Her Itch

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She loves him but...
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RichardGerald
RichardGerald
2,867 Followers

An odd little story about pride and prejudice. Please don't take it too serious. Sorry not much sex, but some violence. You have Vickie to thank once again for fixing my mistakes.

*****

My wife Shantel was at the bar, perusing what was on offer in the way of male companionship. We were in La Pera, a fairly upscale dance club in the county center. Ours is an odd mix of urban and suburban community two steps away from the city. The town is now congested with office parks and shopping malls. La Pera was the trendy new place where the young and not so young gathered to dance and pick up the opposite sex.

I was surprised that my wife picked La Pera for our first night out without children. So much of our marriage had been about the kids. Now we were reaching a point where we would not need to think of the children before deciding on a night out.

Shantel continued to scope out the bar area. If a man smiled at Shantel, she would smile back. She was obviously flirting and on the make. What was holding the men back was that I was seated close to her with my arm firmly around her shoulder.

I'm not a small guy at six foot three and two hundred plus. I have always had a formidable presence. My looks in my younger days were pretty decent, I believe, but time has not been good to me. A lab explosion a few years back left me with an ugly horizontal scar across my right cheek bone. I'm of Irish descent technically, but my ancestors came to Ireland with the Norman Conquest. My blue eyes have the cold, forbidding look of my Norman ancestors. In short, I look like those big mean white guys you see in the movies and on TV who play the villains.

Shantel is my exact opposite. Her mother is in fact a Norwegian immigrant, with lily white skin and platinum blond, arrow-straight hair. The looks she passed to her daughter have an unusual appeal. But my wife's father was part African American. Her skin is a golden shade darker than a Caucasian woman with a deep tan. Shantel's skin tone gives off a warm, friendly, tropical vibe. She is a handsome rather than a pretty woman, her soft African features mixing beautifully with her sharp Norwegian bone structure. She naturally has a black woman's hair, the kind they sell all those straighten-your-hair products to, long black hair with a charmingly loose curl to it. She's a big woman, over six feet tall like her mother.

Ours is a second marriage for both of us. We came to this union with plenty of baggage. We each had a child. My daughter Margaret, or Maggie, was four and Shantel's son Eddy, or Edward, was eight. Eddy's skin coloring is like his very black natural father. It would have been difficult to blend us together if it were just the race issue, but we had the additional problem that Shantel was six months pregnant when we wed.

Neither of us was ready for marriage. Both our divorces were barely finished. Both marriages had terminated in deep bitterness. Mine still hurts even after more than twelve years. I had married the love of my life while still in University. At twenty-two, I was a Ph.D. candidate in biochemistry. My first wife Susan was an MBA working for a large pharmaceutical company as some kind of executive. I never understood what she did other than go to work and look pretty.

Five years into my marriage with Susan, I was served with a restraining order. I was forbidden to go to my own home. I could not see the daughter I loved. Susan was divorcing me and I never found out why. She had been unhappy for a full year preceding the divorce, although all my attempts to find out why proved futile.

Homeless, I moved in with an old friend from the Brooklyn neighborhood where I grew up. Tony McGlen was the head of security for a Fortune five hundred company. Tony was the kid every bully had to try at least once. He was the toughest guy anyone ever knew, but was only average height and always a little overweight. We became friends because I could not keep myself from jumping in when the self-styled tough guys would gang up on Tony in groups of two and three.

Tony welcomed me to his modest Condo and we reminisced about our childhood. I desperately wanted the restraining order lifted. The first hearing was a week after the temporary order was signed, but nothing happened or changed. They hit me with child support for a daughter I was not allowed to see. This went on for two months. I was frustrated with my attorney. He had submitted lots of affidavits proving I was a good parent, better than my wife by far in fact, but there were no signs that anyone had read them.

"Look be reasonable. The situation is simple. Your wife is lying, but no judge will call her on it. If they lift the restraint and something happens, the judge's ass gets burned. However, if they do nothing, there is not a thing you can do about it. Be patient and let the case workers at Social Services report and the physiologists have their say. Then and only then will this judge act," Tony said.

My friend was right. His work around the edges of law enforcement had taught him well about the limitations of the judicial system. I would have been screwed if two events had not hit together. My wife Susan decided to take a promotion. Her new job was in California. She and her man-hating attorney marched right into court sure that the female judge, who had been so good to them so far, would see everything their way. But God must have decided to take a hand. The old bitch that had sat on the bench was a County Court judge sitting by a temporary appointment. We walked into the courtroom to find a new judge sitting.

I thought nothing of it. She was still a female if quite a bit younger, maybe mid-thirties. Susan's attorney did a good job of presenting her as the poor abused wife seeking to relocate to start a new life away from the uncaring husband. When she finished my attorney was up and ready but the judge waved her off and I was ready to kill someone until the judge ordered my wife to the witness stand.

It was the first time in this proceeding that anyone had actually been called to testify about anything. The Judge asked the questions. She deftly demolished by wife's ludicrous charges of abuse and then asked the question that stunted me.

"Mrs. Fitzmaurice, your daughter, is four years old - what inoculations has she had?" the judge asked in a sweet innocent tone.

Susan had no idea and had to admit that she left such things to me. The judge didn't bother to put me on the stand - she just asked me to rise and answer her question. I had no trouble telling her that we had every immunization that could be given to a child age four, running through the litany from whooping cough to measles. Which was everything until just before puberty.

"Yes, that's just as I thought," the judge said.

The Judge left and came back in about thirty minutes. She read a brief handwritten decision that changed custody to me and lifted the restraining order. Then added,

"In conclusion, I will admit that my decision is based in part on my view that women have no naturally superior child-rearing skills. My husband and I have four little girls - the youngest is only two. He is with her right now, providing child care while he pursues his work as an artist. Many view him with derision because he is the caregiver, but I see him as a man who provides for his daughters.

"Like you Mrs. Fitzmaurice I am a career woman who leaves trivial child care duties to her spouse. The problem is they are not trivial to the child. You choose to go to California to pursue your career. By all means go, but leave the child in the care of the parent who would never make that choice," the Judge said.

After that, I don't know what I expected. Maybe I thought that Susan would be very upset, but I was wrong, She went off to California without any further fight. In retrospect I think she was relieved. She didn't want the burden of her daughter and the Judge's decision gave her the excuse to walk away. I have to admire that Judge, she looked at my wife and I guess she just knew what the true situation was. For whatever reason, Susan wished to leave us.

Shantel was a totally different matter. She was the broker who sold the house Susan and I owned together. Susan's lawyer insisted we put it on the multiple listing. Shantel came by with a couple of prospective home buyers. We got to talking. I discovered she was also coming out of a difficult divorce. Her ex was walking away as well leaving her with an eight-year-old boy.

We began casually dating. It was nothing serious. She self-identified as a black woman with a black child. Our relationship was a rest stop on the road of life. We didn't need to be serious. The sex between us was the comfortable kind you have with someone you like and trust. Ours was the sort of easy going relationship that you need coming from a bad marriage.

Maggie and Eddy did not see it that way. My daughter desperately needed a mother. Eddy never actually had a father. Shantel's former husband had trouble parenting and when the marital problem started, he was gone quickly. She always spoke of him as a good man who was, unfortunately, unable to relate well to others. From what I learned he was a handsome man and well educated. He was a history professor at the State University.

The few times Eddy had a visitation with his father, he came back upset. The professor had unreasonable expectations for the behavior of an eight-year-old. Then when dad took up with a young co-ed, it pretty much finished the father-son relationship. It was natural I guess that the boy should turn to the man his mother was dating. On my side, I could not turn away from the boy even knowing that the woman did not see me as husband material.

So there we were, two parents unable to resist the needs of our children. Then fate struck. Shantel and I were careful we thought. When she missed her monthly flow she at first ignored it. The over the counter pregnancy test was supposed to be purely to ease our minds. Several positive results quickly led to medical confirmation. We were six months into a relationship that neither was supposed to take seriously, though I knew by then that I did not want to end it with her.

We were in an awkward situation. The news of the pregnancy changed things. I had not intended to have a serious connection with Shantel, but the fact was, I did. I knew I loved her, but was unsure of her feeling toward me. Eddy was another consideration, as was Maggie. The boy and I had bonded as if we were fated to be father and son. Maggie was attached to Shantel to the point that she was asking if Shan - as she called her - could be her mommy. Susan had called her daughter only four times in the preceding six months, which left my daughter desperate for a mother.

"We need to talk—" I began.

"Wait, don't go there, and please tell me you haven't bought a ring," she said.

"No, I was waiting to hear your reaction, but now I guess I know."

"Listen to me, this will take a bit. I know you love me. It's been obvious the last several months. What you don't know is that I love you. You don't know, because I have been hiding my feelings, but I can't marry you. My husband had every right to divorce me. I cheated...on him. Not once but several times," she said.

She had turned away from me. I could tell she had started to cry. I wrapped my arms around her from behind.

"My love we all do things we regret when we are under pressure. I don't think your former husband was a saint—" I said.

"NO, NO you don't understand. Yes, he cheated, but what I did had nothing to do with that. I can't be faithful, not long term. There are times that I need something different. I get this itch and there is no controlling it. I am sure this baby is yours because I have been ok for the last six months. But it will come again," she said.

"I'm not sure what you are telling me," I said.

"Rob you are a good man. The best man I know and frankly the man I would most like to be a father to my children. I love you and love Margaret like she was my own daughter. I have only myself to blame for getting pregnant. The truth is I want this new child and will not even consider not having it. But I love you too much to hurt you with a marriage."

"Now you are making no sense at all. If we love each other how can we not be faithful," I said.

"Please try to understand. Sometimes I need what you can't give me. You are a sweet, gentle lover and ninety-nine percent of the time that is all I need. But the one percent is my undoing. I can't help myself and I wouldn't go through another painful divorce. And certainly not a hurtful divorce with what I now realize is the only man I have ever actually loved," she said.

The discussion went on like that for an entire evening. I did not understand what she was saying. We had been exclusively together for six months. I had never seen her look elsewhere. True we did not live together. She could have played around if she wanted to, but I firmly believed she had not been doing so. Why she would need to in the future, I did not understand. In fact, I did not believe what she was telling me.

We didn't seem able to resolve the situation. We broke up, but I knew we could not just leave it like that. Something would need to be resolved about the pregnancy.

But I did not expect the reaction from the two existing children. Maggie could not understand why she could not see Shantel. My daughter started acting up. She was in a half-day kindergarten program by this time and I got called into the school because she was acting too aggressive there.

And then, Eddy ran away from home. He was gone a whole day before we found him. In fact, I found him in the park where he and I played ball on the weekends.

We sat the kids down for a long discussion session. Probably should have done that to begin with. They were unable to comprehend why if we loved each other and were going to have a new child, why we weren't going to be together as a family. They had apparently seen this as an inevitable step.

The truth was we didn't have a good explanation, or any explanation. Trying to defend our situation only made me see how absurd it was. I sent the kids to bed. Eddy usually spent as many nights in my home as in Shantel's condo. Then I sat down with Shantel to have it out. She had been very shaken by Eddy's actions and she was missing Maggie far more than she anticipated.

Looking at everything including the needs of the new child, we both knew we needed a solution.

"What if we had an open marriage?" Shantel asked.

"I guess I would need to know what you mean by that," I said.

She sat and thought for a long time and then began

"First we pledge our love to each other. We acknowledge our love and work to make that love without limit or any condition. That love must always come first.

"Second we always put this family and each other ahead of everything else we do.

"Third, we recognize that monogamy is not a prerequisite of the first two. By open I mean that I am free to have sex with other men and I will not stop you from having sex with other women."

"I still don't see how this is to work."

"We set up rules, the first of which is honesty and the second respect," she said.

Ultimately she had a list of twenty rules. They seemed to cover everything but how in hell I was expected to live with her stepping out on me. One part of me said to walk away, but there was no way I could do that to the kids.

I set only one additional condition on my side.

"If this doesn't work out, you agree to let me go in peace. No nasty divorce. No fighting over custody or money," I said.

"I swear. If you want a prenup of some kind," she said.

"No. I trust you with my life. If you promise, I have to believe you."

We were married in an intimate ceremony with our children, her mother, and six good friends. She wore a pretty blue dress.

"I'm not wearing a white dress to my second marriage when I'm six months pregnant ," she said.

She was none the less the most beautiful woman in the world to me and I was the happiest man.

Three months later she had our son Douglas in Mercy General Hospital. I was there for the whole birth process. She never even whimpered. Later I took the kids to the nursery window to see their new brother. He was a big boy, eleven pounds eight ounces. He was the whitest, most Nordic looking child in the nursery.

I was worried about Eddy's reaction to having a fair-skinned brother. I needn't have worried. My eldest son was so taken with being a big brother the baby could have come out green. As the years proved, Eddy was a great big brother to both our other children. I tried not to show him too much favoritism. But it can be hard for a stepfather who has such a wonderful stepson. You find yourself spending that extra time playing ball and helping with his first car. Then all too soon he is off to college and you have lost him and a big part of your soul.

Three weeks after the baby was born, Shantel handed me a medical report.

"What's this?" I asked.

"It's a DNA report shows that Douglas Fitzmaurice is the natural son of Robert Fitzmaurice," she said.

"You didn't need to do that," I said.

"I didn't do it for you. I did it for our son so there would never be any question."

_________________________________________

As we sat in the La Pera, Edward was at University in a pre-med program. Maggie - now Margret - was in California in a summer film school at UCLA. She was actually staying with Susan, and I was happy the two were attempting to have some kind of relationship. Our youngest, Douglas, had been dropped off that morning at summer camp. We had a week to ourselves. I was hoping for some quality time with my wife, but Shantel's itch was making itself felt.

The first time had been a year after Douglas was born. We had been married all of fifteen months when I came home on a Friday night to find my wife dressed to go out.

"Sorry but I have a date and it's not with my husband," she said.

I just looked at her. Whoever he was he must be tall - she had heels on high enough to look down on my six foot two inches. She was dressed sexy and elegant. Neither too formal nor too slutty, but she was making a statement about how far she would be going.

"Look please don't wait up. I believe I will be very late. I have a pizza coming for dinner for you and the kids."

I looked at her - what could I say? Some words came to mind, but I bit my tongue. She pressed her cheek against mine and whispered, "I love you," in my ear.

Then she was gone. I never saw the guy. I had an image of a tall black man in my mind, but that was probably just my racist tendencies. I had the kids to take care of. They occupied most of the evening, but still it was a long night. She did not get home till well after 2 am. I pretended to be asleep. She spent a long time in the bathroom. When she came to bed, she did not cuddle, just laid down on her side of the bed.

In the morning, she woke me with kisses to my manhood. She had already been up and had settled the kids into breakfast in front of the TV. She had given Eddy strict instructions to keep everyone downstairs while she had time with Daddy.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Making up for last night. I needed that and I want to show you it made no difference. You are and will always be my man."

I tried to put it out of my mind, pretend that it did not happen. For three months everything was fine. And then she called me at work.

"Rob, I will be late. I'm seeing someone tonight. Can you pick up the baby from daycare and the kids from school? I wouldn't ask, but I'm leaving right from work to meet him," she said.

I picked up the kids, but I was steamed. I have a bad habit of burying my anger. She got home after midnight. I said nothing then and pretended to be asleep. The next day I left for work early. When I got home late, nothing was said. After the kids had gone to bed, she let me know she was available for some loving in the bedroom. She didn't push things when I showed no interest.

RichardGerald
RichardGerald
2,867 Followers