The Wrong Man

"I don't know, sir - I mean - Jack. Logically, what's happened doesn't seem her fault, she's been manipulated by her mother. And it helps that she hasn't gone to bed with Martin, at least I don't think she has. But emotionally, that's the tough part.

"I'm not like you. I just showed you evidence of your wife's adultery and duplicity and you haven't shed a tear. You got a little angry, but stayed under control. Me - when Emma walked out the door that second weekend, I cried for the first time in my adult life. I don't know how you do it."

Jonathan Taylor looked at me and made a decision. "Because I started to bottle up my emotions over forty years ago. Let me tell you a story not many people have heard.

"When I was fresh out of college I signed up for Naval Flight School; it was tough, but I passed OCS. I so proud of myself on the day those bars were placed on my uniform in front of my parents. I was in flight training when my life went to hell.

"I fucked up and crashed. Broke both legs and my back, but my radar intercept officer, Ted Andrews, was killed. I spent six weeks in the hospital. When I could walk without crutches I went to visit Ted's parents to apologize. I'll never forget their faces as they looked at the man responsible for their son's death. I went back to base a broken man, I cried for days. I was useless to the Navy, they gave me an Honorable Discharge and sent me home.

"My parents were kind; they didn't place any additional guilt on me. They sent me to Harvard so I could get an MBA and put it all in the past. But there isn't a week that goes by that I don't think about what I should have done that day to prevent that crash. I wasn't drunk or hung over or anything like that - it was just a mistake that cost a man's life and it was my mistake.

"Ted's parents never wanted to hear from me again, but I dedicated a part of my life to his memory. Besides some volunteer work, every year there's a ten-thousand-dollar donation made to both the USO and one of the Gary Sinise Foundations for wounded soldiers.

"So, in the grand scheme of things, a whore for a wife seems like a small thing."

I listened quietly and when he finished I looked at my father-in-law; seeing a man with a great weight on his shoulders which he'd carried for far too long. I knew there was something I could do to lessen that weight and I realized right then what I was going to do.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A Final Look Back - Meeting Emma

As I navigated the current circumstances it's important to keep in mind how out of character Emma's recent behavior was compared to who she is. It could only be explained by her need to finally connect to a mother who never exhibited the normal love between a mother and a child. My mind wandered back to the first time I actually conversed with Emma that summer eight years ago.

I was taking a break from my duties at the NGO, walking past Columbus Square when I spotted a familiar face sitting on a bench; the young lady who I recognized from the office looked as if she could use a friend. I took a chance by walking up to her and introduced myself.

"Excuse me, I've seen you before at the office; I'm Jeff Parker, I work in the IT department."

I held out my hand; the young woman looked up into my eyes, there was a sign of recognition, but also it was apparent she was crying. I started to feel bad for disturbing what might be a private moment; instead, a hint of a smile crossed her lips.

"Yes, I've seen you there. I'm Emma Taylor." She took my hand.

"Can I sit, or do you want to be alone?"

"No, please have a seat."

I took another chance. "It's obvious you've been crying; want to share?"

Emma paused for a second. "Did you hear the news today about the two girls in Sudan?"

One of the charities supported by the NGO ran schools for young girls in Sudan and other African and Middle Eastern countries; teaching girls how to read and write, as well as domestic skills and health education. Teaching these skills to females was not always appreciated by the local population.

"No, I've had my head in a bank of servers all day, this is the first I've been out of the server room all day."

"Two sisters were pulled out of the classroom in Juba yesterday by the girls' grandparents. They were upset the girls' parents were allowing them to read and write. Claimed it was a Western plot to turn the girls against Allah. This morning we received word the sisters were mutilated, their clitoris removed. All this was done with the approval of the local Iman."

I didn't say a word in response; I had heard of this barbaric practice among certain Moslem tribes, but until today never heard of its actual practice on a female. Emma started to cry again before continuing.

"What I can't understand is how people who claim to follow a god could consider it all right to destroy something that same god created." She paused. "Do you think we're doing any good over there? Or are we just making a bigger mess?"

"I won't pretend to know the answer to your questions, Emma. But my grandmother taught me something growing up; I was visiting my grandparents on their farm when a huge storm came in, we could see a large funnel cloud and the three of us were trying to get all their chickens into the barn. We probably had twenty of their twenty-five chickens in the barn when Gramps shut the barndoor and told me to get in the basement. I started to protest, couldn't fathom why we were giving up on the strays. Grandma set me straight, "Whenever you try to save everyone," she said, "you'll probably end up saving no one.""

Emma looked at me with those beautiful eyes of hers, she was actually listening to me with interest.

"I guess you could apply Grandma's philosophy to what your organization does; try to save as many of these young women from a life without hope. You'll never save them all, but you can't lose sight of the positives as long as you're saving as many as you do."

"Your grandmother sounds like a wise woman. But, what do you mean by "you", don't you work for the NGO?"

"Not really; I'm on loan from KPMG. When I finish converting the systems, I'll head off to another assignment at another company. That's the life of a consultant. I could be in California or Virginia in two months."

"It must be tough developing friendships. I can't imagine that sort of nomadic life. I've only lived in two places in my life; here in Manhattan and where I go to school in Princeton. Even my prep school was five miles from the university."

"You used the present tense; are you still in school?"

"Yes, I have one more year left at Princeton; I'm here as a summer intern."

"Does that mean you're working here without pay?"

"It does, but that's not a problem. One thing Father believes in is community service. He gives me a decent allowance, besides paying for school. Money's not much of an issue. When I graduate next spring, I'll have a chance to try living independently; until then it's concentrate on school and help out here as an intern."

"It must be nice." As soon as I said it, I realized how sarcastic it could have sounded to her, but Emma didn't bat an eye.

"It is; I won't deny it. I have friends at school who need to watch every penny or are borrowing money to pay their tuition and rent. Having disposable income takes one worry out of being a student."

As Emma spoke I realized how different this woman was from so many of the wealthy people I met at Wharton and since then. Within the course of our thirty-minute conversation, Emma had verbalized empathy with two strangers in Sudan and her fellow students at school. (I later found out that on the same day as our conversation in the park, Emma had been struck by a taxi on her way to work - she had a great big bruise on her thigh from the incident - but this didn't even come up until some days later.) Here was a woman worth knowing, but before I could say a word, she surprised me one more time.

"Jeff, since you said it's difficult to make friends while roaming the planet, would you like to have dinner with me sometime soon?"

Of course, I said "yes" and that was how Emma and I started our friendship. A friendship that became a relationship now challenged by her mother's malicious interference.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After leaving my father-in-law's office I took the train back home. Emma walked in the door an hour later to find dinner on the stove, a bottle of Merlot breathing and a dozen red roses on the table. It took her a few moments to notice the three place-settings on the table.

"We're expecting company, I see. Who?"

"Your father."

"My father, what about my mother? Has something happened to Mother? Please tell me."

"No, nothing has happened to your mother; your Father and I just want to talk to you about some things. Go get washed up, he'll be here any minute."

Thank goodness Jack rang the buzzer right then. I don't think I could have held Emma at bay for long.

Maybe my plans for a quiet meal were naïve; the wine was poured, the pasta on the plates, but as soon as we sat down, Emma wanted to know why her father was here without her mother. Jack fell on his sword and became the one to tell Emma what her mother had been up to for the past few months. Emma became hysterical, crying, "no, no, no" until Jack removed her from the table and sat with her on the sofa, Emma crying into his chest. I cleaned the kitchen and let them have some privacy.

I took Sampson for a walk; when I returned a half-hour later, Emma met me at the door, her eyes still red.

"Jeff, I'm so sorry. Please tell me you want to stay together. Please, Jeff."

"I do, Emma. I never stopped loving you or wanting to be your husband. My greatest fear was you changed your mind and planned to leave me."

"I was so stupid, but I told you how important it was for me to connect with Mother. That's all over now."

"What about your father?"

"Father wants to develop a relationship, but he's afraid I'll be leery of his motives, given what happened with Mother. We're going to take it slow, but he first wants me to work on the damage I've done to our marriage.

"Father is going to take a long vacation soon. He'd like to take the both of us to an island in the Bahamas for as long as we can get off from work; he wants to get to know us both better."

"That's great, babe. We'll work out the details later, but for now - that's just great. Let's go try to eat, I kept the dinner warm in the oven.; the pasta is no longer al dente, but I bet it will taste great."

The three of us sat back down at the table and took the first step on the long road to healing.

Old habits die hard and it was no different for my father-in-law. Despite his best intentions to take a full two weeks off and spend them with us on an island it took nearly a year to make that happen. In the meantime, he did spend almost every other weekend with us, getting closer to the daughter he regretted never really knowing. Like me when Emma and I first met, he was pleasantly surprised to find she was such a fine, unselfish young lady. It helped Emma recover from her mother's betrayal to have Jack become involved in our lives.

Emma and I spent these months putting the pieces of our marriage together. It was made easier by the fact Emma never cheated on me, she never lost her moral compass. The evening of the play with Grant was chaste, not that Grant hadn't tried his damnest to make something happen, he just ran into the wrong woman, something he wasn't used to with all the skanks he typically tried to bed.

Emma and I eventually spent a week on Cat Island in the Bahamas with Jack. Emma spent an extra four days after I left, an opportunity for little time alone with her father; I needed to get back to work due to my new responsibilities. My project completed on time and under budget; my reward was the coveted CIO title, along with a nice bonus and bump in pay.

Speaking of bumps, Emma had to be convinced she could still wear a bikini on the island, even with that beautiful baby bump. Paul Jonathan Parker (named after both grandfathers) was born just over a year after that warmed-over pasta dinner. Claire Emma Parker (Claire is my mother's name) two years after PJ.

Jack retired when he turned sixty-three and is doing his best to spoil his grandkids, he even bought a small condo nearby that he uses as a second home.

Lois didn't fare as well. Jack divorced her soon after our meeting that Thursday afternoon. It may have cost him a fortune in attorney fees, but due to the evidence of her attempt to destroy her daughter's marriage with the participation of her lover, and due to the fact Lois had millions in trust funds, Jack was able walk away from Lois without paying her alimony and keeping enough assets that his retirement would be comfortable.

When news of Lois' duplicity became the grist of the society matrons, she became a pariah; everyone knew she was a snake, they just didn't know how low she could crawl. Lois first moved down to Palm Beach, but her reputation followed her. She was denied membership in the local tennis clubs and never made a friend, or anyone pretending to be a friend, during her nine months in Florida.

Palm Springs was next, nothing like a few thousand miles to shake a bad smell. Although Lois was permitted to join the 'beautiful' people, her millions may have swayed them, she couldn't compete with the young wives for the attention of any men suitable for fucking. Lois made the mistake of so many aging women with low self-esteem - she went to a plastic surgeon. Unfortunately, she came out looking like one of those demented clowns with a weird smile and crazy eyes.

I only know about the horror of her facelift because two years after Claire's birth, Lois came to our door. It took me a few moments to recognize the person standing on the other side of the screen when I opened the front door.

I didn't even open the screen door, just spoke through the screen. "Lois, what are you doing here?" The lack of any friendliness in my voice couldn't be any more apparent.

"I'd like to see my daughter and my grandchildren."

"Lois, you're not welcome here. No one in this house wants to see you or ever acknowledge your miserable existence. Now - go away." It took every ounce of self-control to avoid shouting.

"You have no right to prevent me from seeing Emma and the children; open this door."

"Lois, you don't get it; I'm not preventing them from seeing you, Emma doesn't want to see you and she'll do everything in her power to prevent you from infecting our children with your vitriol." I started to close the door, just as Lois was opening the screen door. I momentarily paused. "My God! What did you do to your face?" It just came out of my mouth.

Lois was stunned by my comment, long enough for me to shut the door.

She didn't give up easily. The next day was Monday; Lois assumed I'd be at work and called the house. Emma later told me their exchange was short and to the point. Emma confirmed that Lois was persona-non-grata at our home and anywhere near the children. Lois offered Emma a carrot; if she could visit with the grandchildren, they would receive ten-thousand dollars into their college fund for each of the first ten visits. Emma refused the bribe.

Lois turned up at the kids' pre-school. That was enough for us to obtain a restraining order. Lois tried calling Jack to ask for his help, playing the "we were married for thirty years, blah, blah blah..." That got Jack laughing and hanging up on her. The last we heard, Lois headed back to Palm Springs and took up with some gigolo who took her for quite a bit of her money. How sad.

Sometimes bad things happen to bad people.

Which reminds me of my one last action against Grant Martin. Using a phony name, I sent Martin a letter. It was a short poem, just eight sentences; it read:

"He's innocent," your lawyer said
But that's not what the jury found
For the crime that sent you down
There are forces which come 'round

"I'm innocent," again you pled
But Karma and Justice walked hand in hand
And by now - asshole - you understand
That you just fucked with - The Wrong Man.