Her Itch

The first thing, however, was the neatly typed resignation to be dropped on Ms. Stilman's desk. The corporate reorganization had been announced to be effective after the annual meeting in December. Everyone in the company was excited and looking forward to the changes except the researchers and scientists. The lab rats knew when they were being mistreated. They looked to me for leadership and while I'd said nothing until now, the resignation letter that would be published later that evening said it all. It was a scathing analysis of how the company had once again put short-term profits ahead of long-term science.

It was a harsh letter and while literally accurate was significantly unjustified. The company was, after all, a profiting making enterprise. It did not exist for the sake of scientific discovery. The problem with the current minor reorganization was only the one appointment. Had they bothered to consider the concerns of the workers they could have avoided the problem. Had they not underestimated my reaction they could have toughed it through with a peeved professional workforce—unhappy but working. But two women had blundered badly, which made all the difference.

Becky and Shantel had both assumed that I was locked in. The cuckold husband would once again place the family interest above his own. He would continue to run like a rat in a maze. After all, what else could he do?

The meeting was at Frank's Tavern. It was a good size place near the interstate. I had hope for perhaps half the staff, which would create a good size crowd I could get lost in. By 7:00 p.m. there were nearly one hundred crowding the tavern's main room and overflowing into the bar area. Almost the entire staff had turned out, and they had come angry. My letter had been designed to stir old grievances and fire up the new problem.

In it, I had come down hard on sexism. I had expected this to resonate with the male staff. All the new appointments were female including the disliked new director of research. But the meeting had hardly started when several women made their feelings known about whoring MBA's who sleep their way to the top. Apparently, some women still existed who had morals about such activities.

I was called upon to speak but modestly pointed out that I was there primarily to listen, and, also, this was no longer my fight. I pointed out that I had resigned and had probably seen my last days in the lab. This was met with shouts of 'No' and 'No way,' but I was allowed to withdraw to a corner to listen.

One thing I had learned over the years was that when you get a group of Research Scientists together you would always have a significant number of individuals who are in love with the sound of their own voices. The crowd in Frank's Tavern proved the point.

At 8:20 I headed for the restrooms at the back. I was out the back door and into a panel van without being noticed. With Tony at the wheel, it took only twenty minutes to reach the parking lot in front of the apartment Sam lived in. My prey normally returned home between 9:00 and 9:30 on Thursdays nights. He was relatively consistent. Shantel never visited on Thursday and was home tonight with the kids, as I was out at my meeting.

Shantel was unaware of the resignation. The meeting I had instigated a few days before was allegedly only to voice concerns. I had made it sound very low key, and had I not resigned and nailed my list of frustrations to the boardroom door it would have seemed no more than a quiet round or two of drinks.

Sam was more than cooperative, showing up a few minutes before 9:00. I was out of the van and calling to him as he exited his well-used Chevy Blazer. Seeing me he smiled and held out his hand. He never saw the bat. The dim lighting and my quick movement sealed his fate. My first blow connected to his left knee. The second hit his right arm as he held it up to protect himself.

My principle concern after assuring my dominance in the altercation was to avoid inflicting any permanent damage. Once I had him immobilized on the ground, I went after his face with my steel encased fists. Blood spurted from his nose, but I only intended to batter, not maim him. He must have passed out because his screaming stopped.

Catching my breath, I could hear people coming. I ended the altercation with two hard kicks to his genitals. I wanted to send a message, but I had no intention of inflicting permanent damage. I was back in the van and speeding away as several good Samaritans reached Sam's bleeding body.

On the way back I changed out of the clothing I wore. I had prepared a duplicate outfit to change into. After another stop in the restroom at Frank's, you could not have guessed I had just assaulted a six foot five body builder. As far as I could tell no one had missed me. The talking and arguing was still going on. At ten o'clock I rose and addressed the crowd, thanking them for their insights, concerns, and support. I was home by 11:00 p.m., where Shantel met me with questions about the meeting but nothing about Sam. I was half expecting the police to show, but they never did.

Friday morning bright and early I got a call from Becky. "You Bastard. A whore am I?" .

"I never said anything like that," I responded.

"No, but you sure never denied it. You know how much trouble you have caused, and for the life of me I can't see why. It makes no sense. If you wanted out, you could just leave. Why blow the place up on the way out the door?"

"I'm sorry if this wimp caused you trouble," I said.

"What are you saying? Is Shantel there let me speak to her?"

I handed the phone to Shantel and walked away. I don't know what they discussed, but Shantel told me to put my best suit on. Apparently I was due for a meeting at the lab with the company CEO, Lester Marks. The man who had been CEO as long as I had been with the company and who I had never actually spoken to. I had seen him. Been at functions with him, but we had never said a word to each other.

Shantel drove me to the lab. It was a quiet ride. I could tell she was upset and that she was thinking.

"I don't understand. This lab has been your whole life. How could you just quit and not even discuss the problem with me. I would support any decision you made, but I have assumed that you would confide in me, let me help you in your decision. What's happened to us?" she finally said.

I could tell she was more hurt than angry. She saw our marriage as a loving partnership of which she was the benevolent senior partner. If I was ever unhappy with my job, she wouldsupport my resignation or helped me fight management. Whatever happened, we would stand together. But I had clearly walked away from her. Never given her the chance to bring her superior people skills to the fight. She could have worked out some compromise with Becky that would have kept my job and kept me happy.

"Things have changed," I said cryptically as she pulled up in front of the lab.

She parked her Mercedes and opened her door to come in with me.

"No, Shantel, I'm doing this on my own. Go home. I'll catch a cab if I need a ride back," I said.

Now I could see her anger flare.

"Why are you pushing me away?"

"I'm not you haven't realized yet that we are no longer together, but you will," I said and exited her car.

The lab had a large amphitheater-like conference center, but my meeting was in the VP's office around a small oval conference table. The CEO sat at one end flanked by his aides. Becky greeted me at her office door.

"Where's Shantel?" Becky asked.

"I left her in the car. This is none of her business," I said.

Becky gave me a worried look.

"Please be reasonable," she said, leading me to a seat at the far end of the table.

Becky sat in the middle and made the polite introductions. I could tell the CEO had no clear recollection of the head of his laboratory. My appearance, I could see, was not what he expected or was prepared for.

"Dr. Fitzmaurice, I asked you here to see if we could work out the problems that you referred to in your resignation letter," said Lester Marks.

"Don't really see how that would be possible. This company's only product is the discoveries and work performed in the laboratory I use to run. We hold thousands of patents, nearly all of which I made a significant contribution to in the last sixteen years. In that same time, you have been CEO and been paid nearly fifteen times what I make and over thirty times the staff average in the lab. Yet as far as I can see you contribute nothing," I said.

I could see Becky and the assistants flinch, but I had not even got a rise out of Marks.

"Is that what this is about? An argument about who contributes the most and what each should get paid," Marks said.

"No, I'm a realist, that's just the way the world is. Those who make the greatest contributions receive the least rewards. The managers, bankers and bureaucrats skim all the rewards and the builders, inventors and discoverers get what's left over. But we don't need to be insulted in the process. Seems to me that we here in the lab were entitled to be treated with some respect."

"So you're telling me you blew up the place because you felt insulted? Just a matter of your ego?"

"Hmm, I think you give me too much credit. I could have done nothing without you. You built the bomb. I just set it off."

"Enough of this - what do you want?"

"Nothing, because you still don't see the problem. It's not me you need to satisfy. It's the hundred and seven individuals that work in the lab. The women who are upset that spreading your legs is worth more than developing a new drug. The men who see themselves working for someone whose chief qualification is her relationship to the company CEO. No, I am your history, not the solution to your current problem," I said, standing up to make my exit.

It was Becky who took the last shot. "Nothing you said here makes you any less a cuckold," she said.

I smiled and said, "You are wrong I believe, but only time will tell."

It was late afternoon before I reached home, or at least the house I had lived in. I was there only for the confrontation I expected from Shantel.

She wasn't there so I began to pack a few things. I was moving in with Tony again for a while. Douglas was at home. I had no idea where my daughter was. She had reached that age where she loved her father but confided only in her mother. Douglas was in his room as I arrived, but was standing in the doorway of the master bedroom as I closed the suitcase.

"Dad, are you leaving because of that man Sam?" he asked. Children know more than you realize about their parents' actions.

"No, the problem your mother and I have is bigger than that, but it is definitely not your problem," I said.

"Will you be back?" he said.

"Often," I said and opened my arms to give him a hug. He came to me and we embraced.

When I looked up, Shantel was in the doorway. "Doug, leave your father and me alone," she said.

She could see our son was crying and she wiped his tears with her hands as he exited. When Doug was gone, she closed the door and came to sit on the bed next to my suitcase. "You have sure surprised me and I guess I'm not the only one. But can I ask why?"

"Why what?"

She shrugged and said, "First, why hurt poor Sam so bad? He's in the hospital, though they say he will be released tomorrow morning."

"Well, if I hurt him, and I am not admitting that I did, it would only be as a sample of what might happen in the future. A message to someone else you might say. A strong hint that they should keep their word," I said.

"I see, and destroying the company you worked so hard to help build."

"A bit of payback for years of abuse. They can fix the problem, but it will cost them and that is what will really hurt them," I said.

"I guess there is no hope for us?" she said.

I didn't reply. The answer was obvious - things had gone too far. No one's fault really.

She got up and walked to the door. Opening it, she lingered a moment.

"Sorry," she said.

"Sorry," I replied. But she had already closed the door behind her.

________________________________________________

Epilogue

Almost a year had passed since I walked out on Shantel. On the job front, I landed on my feet. The old firm's main competitor came knocking on my door the moment they heard I was free. They also tried to pick up the best of the other lab people, but as I predicted my old company threw money at the problem. It cost them, and oddly it was rather embarrassing for management too. They became quite a joke for a while. But none of this was my concern.

My personal life was a bigger problem. Shantel did keep her promise - the separation was without recriminations on her part. She made it easy for Doug and me. She never interfered with our getting together. The problem was the older children. Margret stopped speaking to me at all, and Edward became very distant. I didn't blame Shantel for this - they were old enough to choose and they did.

The legal side of things was a bit different. I had not filed for divorce. As far as I was concerned the marriage was over when I left. Shantel had not filed either, but a week ago she called to say she wanted a meeting to work out some details. She chose the place, Valentine's, but at 2:00 p.m.

"It will be quiet and we can discuss where we go from here," she said.

So I was once again sitting in a comfortable seat in a good restaurant, this time at an off hour on a weekday afternoon. She was late. It was almost 2:30 when she arrived.

"Sorry, I got held up at a house showing. I would have called, but I don't have your new number," she said.

"Sorry, I should give it to you," I said as she seated herself.

"Only if you feel comfortable with that," she said.

The waiter appeared, and we ordered.

"Let me say again how sorry I am, the way things worked out," she said.

"Not your fault. What happened ... happened," I replied.

"You have not sought a divorce. Can I ask why?"

"Haven't seen the point. The marriage is over as far as I'm concerned. I don't need a piece of paper to prove it. "

"Well my attorney says that we are at the point where I can move for divorce on grounds of desertion. The problem I have is a moral one and a personal one. I feel I am the guilty party. It is not right for me to divorce you. Moreover, I have told the kids that I would not be the one to end this marriage. I love you and I will love you till the day I die. It just would not be right for me to stand up in court and say things that are not true. So I am here to tell you that as far as I am concerned we are still married," she said, with tears beginning to wet her cheeks.

Shantel did not cry often and she was not a woman to use tears to get her way. Still, as much as I hated to hurt her I could not see myself going backward.

"Well, I guess that leaves us stuck with the status quo," I said.

As I said that the food arrived, and I was amazed at how fast the service had suddenly become at Valentines. Shantel picked at her food. Knowing her I knew this meeting had a purpose and something was coming.

"I wanted to thank you for paying Eddy's tuition.

"He's still my son."

"You're a good father, considering the way he's treated you since our separation. You had every right to decline that bill," she said.

"You're his mother, I understand."

"I have tried to get Maggie to speak to you, but she is just so angry. She seems to believe this is all your fault. She believes that we had an open marriage and you reneged on it out of spite. I have tried to explain how things got out of hand and I hurt you, but she will not listen."

"I hope eventually she will understand," I said.

She went back to eating for a while. I kept quiet and waited.

"My attorney had an idea that might resolve our problems," she said.

"Oh, and what would that be?"

"Family counseling. All of us together, not for us to get back together, but to work out our separation as a group—"

"Not sure—"

"Hear me out. I'm not seeing anyone. You took care of that with what you did to Samuel. No one will come near me. I know you don't have anyone because I checked. So maybe we get together not as a couple but as a family, say one session a week to talk with a counselor. Eddy can be there by phone. Don't make a decision now - think on it and give me an answer. Say, next week."

Eventually, I agreed to the counseling not to get us back together, but to work our problems through as a family. The kids still hurt. I guess that is inevitable, but they are coming to understand the problem. Maybe some day they too will learn to live with it.

*****

© 2015 --Sorry, no romantic end. But by all means let me know your feelings. All comments welcome and appreciated.