The Goddess

It was such a beautiful morning. The sun was shining. Birds were chirping. A lazy old buzzard was circling something not far away; probably a dead deer. Bright white clouds, like winged zephyrs floated across the late winter sky. Winter, not my favorite time of year, but there seemed something mystical about the morning, like something was dying and yet no one knew or cared. It was like the world was still moving, all the pieces in place, but I was trapped. Frieda always said she liked the fall the best, sunny but not so hot and humid. All around everything was so clear and clean, big beautiful trees, mostly oaks, but a smattering of Maples, Ash, Willows, and a few Dog Woods. We had a big Maple in our back yard, still had the swing I'd fashioned for the girls. I used to push them... Now... I wondered...

I started shaking. I was sweating. I was so weak; like somebody'd just drained all the blood out of my body. What was Frieda doing? Why would she being seeing some other man? That was a big house, half a mill at least. He had to rich. What had I done wrong? I couldn't help it; I started blubbering. My wife... my dream... my life... my heart... our life... the kids... our home. I never felt so bad, not ever, not even when my mom died. What was I going to do? I had to get going, keep moving. It was hard to breathe. I stopped at a local breakfast nook and got some eggs and sausage but couldn't eat anything. Didn't even touch the coffee. It wasn't till after 1:00 p.m. that I got home. Frieda was there. I walked by her car and looked it over. I wanted to put my fist through the side window.

When I went inside she was in the laundry room separating her things. My stomach started roiling around again. I felt so dizzy, like maybe I had a brain tumor. Was I dying? I had to keep it together. I asked, "When did you get home?"

Frieda replied, "About an hour ago. Why aren't you working?"

I was so wobbly I pressed my hands on the dryer. I was covered in sweat. I leaned toward her. She leaned away. I lied, "I had to drive down to our supplier. They had a problem with the trusses for our next job. I cleared it up so I thought I'd check in before going back to work. How was your trip?"

She was busily stuffing things in the washer. She wasn't looking at me. Didn't she want to look at me? In my mind, my heart, I was crying out, 'Look at me! See me! Tell me I'm wrong! Tell me you haven't done anything!'

Shaking out a blouse, she replied, "Uneventful. Mom left a message. Jerry's bringing Mary and the kids in from San Diego for Easter. They want us to join them."

I walked past her, "Sure, I guess so." I caught a glimpse of what she was washing, it was her underwear. "That new?" I asked.

She threw the panties she had in her hands in the washer, "No, just the usual," then she turned, "that was stupid this morning."

"What me calling you. I had a bad dream. It woke me up. It was about you. I was worried."

Still not looking at me she kept fiddling with her clothes, "Nothing too serious I hope."

"Frieda," I asked, "do you love me?"

She stopped just a second, looked at her laundry, and then gave me a dirty look, "All right, what's your problem?"

"Just asking is all. Do you love me?"

She didn't look at me, "I married you didn't I?"

I shrugged, "Yeah, but you know... well Lauren."

She threw something else in the washer; she threw it hard, "Go back to work Garrett."

I walked off and went upstairs, 'I had to think about something else. So Jerry and his brood were coming in from San Diego. Jerry and Mary were nice enough. Jerry was Frieda's older brother; he'd gone to University of Pennsylvania as an undergraduate and then the same place for his MBA. He married his college sweetheart and moved to California where he'd succeeded in everything he tried, especially the health care industry. They were rich. He'd sent me the plans for his house before they signed any contracts. I had looked it over. Man, state of the art; ocean front, pool with pumped in seawater, hot tub, putting green, indoor theater, two lane bowling alley, the works. I'd made a few suggestions, and he'd taken them. He offered to pay me, but of course I declined, thought it was kind of tacky of him actually.

They had two girls, Monica and Leslie, both a lot younger than ours. They'd planned ahead; saved their money and waited before jumping into kids. Frieda and I of course... We had three kids. There was Lauren, our oldest, the high school surprise, currently fourteen and in high school. Then there was number two, Katie. Katie's a seventh grader, and last, Jessie our fourth grade boy.

Jerry was a good guy, lots of money, friendly, generous to a fault. A couple years ago he invited us all out. Frieda and the kids went, but I needed to stay back. Jerry even offered to pay my fare, but I couldn't see it. The local housing market was weak and we were too heavily leveraged. Mom and dad were dead, Forrest had moved in with us and needed to finish high school, and my brother and I were taking anything we could get just stay above water. Frieda and the kids went out and had a great time, the kids emailed pictures.

Upstairs I showered and changed clothes, had to get to work. I'd stopped sweating, but was red and hot, and dry. I felt so weak and fragile. As I walked back down and out to the kitchen Frieda was at the table reading some text or something on her cell. I wondered what it might be. I thought about going in and telling her what I saw, but I didn't. I was too afraid. What if she was leaving me? I almost broke down at that. I almost cried right then. If she left me. I didn't know. I was so sacred.

All day I tried to keep my wife out of my mind by working my ass off. Around 3:00 I told my brother I had to leave. He suspected something so he just waved me off. Back home I found Frieda on her laptop. Between sneezing and coughing I tried to be cheerful. I asked, "Anything interesting?"

She closed it up, "Just the usual crap."

Still trying to smile I wheezed, "Where are the kids?"

She looked irritated. I just knew I was on the losing end. My legs felt like tree trunks. My arms felt so heavy; it was like I couldn't lift them. She growled at me, "The girls are in their room's texting their girlfriends I imagine. I haven't seen Jessie."

I felt like running away, but I went upstairs to shower again; insulation was itchy. Upstairs I called Forrest, "Where are you?"

"Out," was all he said.

"When you coming home?"

"Never if I don't have to."

I asked, "Have you seen Jessie?"

"He's out with some of his friends." He hung up.

What we'd seen was bothering Forrest. Had he told any of my kids? God I hoped not. I grabbed my cellular and punched up Forrest again. I knew he needed me. I got him the second tone, "Forrest where are you?"

"Out with friends."

"When are you coming home?"

"Not now. Maybe not tonight. Maybe never. I don't know."

This was exasperating, "Look Forrest that's no way to behave. Come on home."

"Why," he answered, "So I can watch you pretend you're happily married?"

"No, because this is your home," Frieda came in the bedroom and went to our bathroom. I lowered my voice, "Come home. We'll talk."

"Why so you can show me how a cuckold acts around a cheating whore?" He was yelling.

"Just come home," He didn't answer, but I knew he'd be home soon, and a few minutes later he did pull up.

I met him at the door, "Let's go out to the porch."

He skulked on by me while I went to the refrigerator and got out two PBRs. As bad as I felt I thought, 'Just what I needed.' I met him on the porch, but not before Frieda intercepted me, "I don't like you giving him beer like that."

I didn't know where that came from, I said, "I'm going to have a beer with my brother OK?" Then I just looked at her and walked on out letting the back door slam behind me. It felt good.

Together Forrest and I sat down, "Forrest until I get this straightened out I want you to show some self-control."

He was angry, "What're you going to do; eat her out every time she comes home late?"

This I could handle. I glared at him, "How would you like me to knock you on your ass?"

He backed off, "OK, OK. I just don't like what she's doing."

I looked back. The kitchen window was open, "Come on. Let's walk down to the shed."

Together we walked the forty paces or so that separated the house from where we kept the lawn tractor, "Forrest I'm worried about my daughters and Jessie so I want you to act like nothing's wrong. Can you do that?"

"She's cheating on you Garrett."

"I know that, but I'm not going off halfcocked. You just stay calm until I tell you to stop staying calm."

"How long's that going to be? I'm not waiting forever."

Forrest was a lot like me. He sees a problem he goes right after it. I told him, "I need to find out who the other cheater is first. I saw him this morning, but don't know anything. After I take care of him then I'll deal with your aunt."

"You going to dump her?"

That was the worst question. I replied, "Hard to say. I need to check our finances. It might be a good idea if instead of you finishing community college you went straight ahead to Virginia Tech. You'd be out of the house then."

"What about Jessie and the girls?"

"I don't know. She's their mom."

"Want me to tell them."

I turned on him, "I don't want you to do a fucking thing!"

He held up his hands, "OK, sorry."

"Come on," I took his arm and we walked back up to the house. Frieda was watching from the kitchen window so I left Forrest short of the house and started down to the field behind the barn where the horses were. It was Katy's job to see to their feed. I'd use that as an excuse to stay away for a while.

~~~V~~~

I needed to think.

Frieda had been a nice girl, and when we were younger I thought she'd been a pretty good wife and mother. But the last few years I thought she'd showed signs of discontent, then lately... I didn't know. I thought she'd always seen me as this lovable lug, kind of a 'Hay Seed' or 'Cracker' she needed to manage. It made life easier so I'd let her. I might not have finished college, but I wasn't stupid. I knew her parents had a low opinion of me. I knew her mom was terribly disappointed that she'd married me, but I knew a lot of things. In fact in a lot of ways Frieda was clueless.

She had a cell phone, her personal laptop, and her desktop computer for her charities, plus she had a Jeep and another pretty new car with a built in GPS, in short all the tools. I needed to find out who my enemy was. If I even had one. I'd kind of made up my mind. I needed my family's respect. I was going to do something.

Frieda had a small office I built for her just off from the main house. She does her charities in there undisturbed. That's where she kept a lot of her personal things. She had a lot of her clothes and personal files there. One thing she didn't have was an extension for the land-line. Of course she had her cell.

I felt so bad! I slogged my way into my tiny office that was just off the living room and plopped down on an old second hand lazy boy I'd bought years back. I left the door open. I could see the kitchen and the breakfast room from where I was seated. Then something happened.

Like I asserted earlier, Frieda lacked a land-line extension in her office. While she was preparing dinner, something spicy I knew I wouldn't be able to eat, the kitchen phone rang. Frieda picked it up. For several seconds she was filled with the usual levity talking and yammering on about something or other, but then the person on the other end must have said something she didn't like because her demeanor changed abruptly. Almost immediately she started glancing in my direction. I wondered, 'Had Barney said something to his wife Mildred, and had Mildred called Frieda?'

I pretended to be dozing, but I watched. When Frieda got upset about something she'd start to shake her right foot. That right foot was shaking. She kept putting her right hand to the top of her blouse. Playing with those top buttons she kept looking from the phone, to the kitchen clock, and then to me. I pretended to keep my eyes closed.

Shortly, I heard, or thought I heard Frieda put the phone back in its cradle. I heard some more rustling around in the kitchen. Dimly I got a glimpse Frieda as she walked from the kitchen through the breakfast room. She had to be at my office door, "Garrett? Garrett?"

Was this it? Was this when she told me we were through? I opened my eyes, "Yes?"

She looked nervous, scared, "You, um... you think you can eat something? I've made a pasta dish, but I have some frozen vegetable soup I can heat up," she was really fidgeting. Worse, she was looking at me like she had something she wanted to say.

I was praying, 'No don't say it. Don't tell me we're through.' I replied, "The soup would be nice."

She came into my office, "Why don't you go to bed. I'll bring it up when it's ready."

I answered, "You sure?"

She walked over to where I was sitting. She reached out and almost touched me, but in typical Frieda fashion she backed away at the last minute, "Yes, you go to bed. I'll bring it up."

I started out of the chair. I was so groggy and achy I almost fell forward. Frieda stepped back. I said, "OK honey."

She turned and walked back to the kitchen, and I lumbered my way up the steps to our bedroom. I knew other men were treated differently. Barney's wife Mildred did everything but put on a nurse's uniform when he got sick. Barney worked at the big saw mill just outside of town. His wife watched over him like a mother hen. Then there was Rankin, Rankin Loudermilk; his wife Patty was really special. Rankin had a heart problem, and she wouldn't let him lift a quart of milk. That Patty was a real doter. Not Frieda though; Frieda was a cool one. I never thought she was mean, just indifferent. In fact she treated the kids pretty much like she treated me.

Unlike Frieda, I'd always been a reader of fiction. Frieda didn't think much of it. She read a lot too, but her stuff was more about other people's suffering. I guessed that had to do with her charities as much as anything. Me I liked literature. By the time I got out of high school I'd covered almost all the Dickens I could find, and later, since we've been married I'd plowed my way through almost all of Steinbeck and Hemingway. Lately I'd gotten all five of Fitzgerald's novels. Frieda laughed; she said I'd never read any of them. Of course she was wrong.

I loved my wife. I can't remember not loving her, but if I were to put her in the Greek pantheon I guess she's be Minerva, Diana for the Romans. She was the one they called the huntress; beautiful, graceful, and elegant, but cold. Frieda had been my Minerva; always near, but distant too. Hell, I hunt, we all hunt. Believe it or not Frieda hunts deer with a bow! Jesus, watching her practice in the backyard is truly like seeing Minerva. Excepting for a short time during our honeymoon and maybe a little after she'd been what I'd say a part of me and in the family, but always someplace else too. It's like she's always been yearning for something. I guess in the years before Jessie was born it bothered me; since Jessie, not so much. I think that's when I started noticing... I can't go there, and I can't cry. I'm sick enough as it is.

~~~V~~~

About Frieda...

I'd thought about it, about her a lot. Frieda even looked like a Minerva. She's tall, 5' 8". She's thin with long legs, long graceful arms, and long but delicately slender hands and fingers. When she does her nails she only uses the clear polish; no bright garish reds for her. No sir!

She has long blond hair; it's thin and straight, and stunning. Her eyes are blue, ice blue, almost translucent they're so light, and wide apart, and with thin but unbelievably sexy eyebrows. Why did she ever agree to marry me? She could've had anybody.

Yeah, she has Nordic features like her mom and dad, high but well-chiseled cheeks bones, and a pale ultra-pale complexion. She never tans, she only burns, and yet when she gets excited or stays outside in cooler weather she'll get so rosy cheeked I just want to smother her in kisses. Her lips are tiny and heart shaped.

When she dresses to go out she always looks beautiful, beautiful but untouchable. Believe me she's unbelievable! Not a Tee-shirt girl; only blouses, crisp tailored blouses, yellow and white and blue that all cost a fortune. And slacks! And minis! Minis that swish and swirl when she walks! And dresses, long almost knee length dark dresses, blue or black.

There were other things too. She's small breasted, not flat, but small, no smallish, and yes they've always been almost perfectly pear shaped. I mean she's past thirty and no sign of sag. Why am I putting myself through this? I love her so. I know, I just know she's leaving me, but oh my God her cleft! I can't imagine anyone more beautiful down there. She's a blond, a natural blond, and down below it's just as apparent. Better, or worse I guess for me... now, her vaginal hair is wispy, light, and thin. She does occasionally trim, but only when she wears a bathing suit, and she only wears bikinis.

I love making love to her. I've always loved that, but there's never been any fellatio. Cunnilingus yes; she loves it when I kiss and caress and lick and suck on her labia or nibble on her clitoris, but no oral for me, never for me. Honestly, I've never asked. She's always asked me, but not me her. I think sometimes for her to go down on me would be somehow degrading. She's too perfect. I don't feel degraded doing her. I love it.

~~~V~~~

Shortly after I got in bed Frieda came up with some soup. She placed it on my bedside table with a spoon and a napkin and left. She never checked me for a fever. She never said anything. The soup was only lukewarm. I was used to it. I know she loves me, or at least she loved me once.

Later that night I got up. I found her cell phone and activated an application that would allow me to see her texts. I fixed it so they'd all filter in to my desk top and my lap top. The GPS on her Lexus automatically activates every time she turns on the ignition so there was never going to be a problem there with me locating her.

~~V~~

The next morning I went to work as usual, or tried anyway. I still had a fever, and it felt like a high one. Just the same by lunch time I was ready to look things over. Wow! She'd been a busy bee. Though it was tricky trying to decipher their messages, the whole thing was turning out to be too easy.

Presumably Frieda called herself, 'F' and her paramour referred to himself as 'L'. So it was "Frieda" and "L" somebody, a somebody who lived in a big Macmansion out off of Frederick's Schoolhouse Road.

She'd sent something I didn't quite get that went "Thkin o U F", and he sent back "M2U". Was that code for I'm thinking of you and then I am too? At any rate her second message "Cmetday." To which he responded W&W. Could it be "see me today", and then "when and where"?

'Uh oh,' I thought, 'could this be it'?

Then she sent, "Important. Saying good bye."

'Wow,' was my reaction, 'was she telling him they were through'? Then it dawned on me. Mildred or somebody had called the night before, and they had told her I'd seen her car. This could mean Frieda was afraid I knew something so she was giving "L" the brush off.

He replied, "No!"

She sent right back, "Denny's, Dual Highway, Hagerstown, 2PM."

His response, "See you, ILU."

The outlook seemed obvious. She wanted to end what they'd been doing. He didn't, and the 'ILU' meant "I love you". Well I knew where the Denny's was, and I had plenty of time to get there. I closed up my lap top, stepped out of my truck, found my brother, and told him I needed to leave for the rest of the day. He told me I looked like shit, and not to take any shit off of anybody. I was sure then that Forrest had told him something.