Losing Trust
How do you begin to trust again after being burned?
I was in love. She was my wife and I thought she was my best friend. Debbie and I were married for six years when I found out it was all an illusion.
We were living in Portland at the time, Debbie had recently taken a job as an internal auditor with the largest real estate firm in the city, I was in sales for a national machine tools manufacturer. Given my product line, it was rare for me to be downtown; most of my clients were in the burbs or outlying areas in Western Oregon, but this day found me in the city with an extra two hours on my hands.
I called Debbie, asked her to lunch and was disappointed when she told me that she had to finish a spreadsheet before an important meeting that afternoon. I didn't want to waste the opportunity so I went over to Jake's for a bowl of their crawfish Etouffée. I was enjoying the nut brown sauce over rice listening to the table of ladies behind me and wondering how they do it. All four women seemed to be talking at the same time. It wasn't the first time I'd witnessed this phenomenon and it always puzzled me, men can't do that.
I sat there smiling to myself while trying to understand how anyone could comprehend the gibberish when something one of the ladies said registered in my head; I wasn't the only person intrigued by the lady's question because the other three women at the table stopped talking at once.
"So is Deborah Miller doing the dirty with Simon Walker?"
This question got my instant attention because my wife's given name is Deborah; she uses that name in her professional life, only family and friends call her Debbie; and Miller is the name she shares with me since we married (I'm Mark Miller, by the way).
One of the ladies asked, "Why, what do you know?"
The first answered, "I was sitting in Deborah's office when she took a call from her husband. She refused his invitation by making some excuse about working through her lunch hour. Five minutes later Simon sticks his head in her office and asks if she's ready to head out. She nodded her head to Simon then turned red as she looked back at me; obviously embarrassed I had heard her lie to her husband."
My heart sank at her words, but my ears stayed tuned as the other ladies continued this stream of gossip.
"It didn't take Simon long to sink his fangs into another married woman did it? Deborah's only been in the office for a month."
"And it's only been two months since Heidi Johnson quit. I heard her husband forced her to quit after he learned about her affair with Simon. Can you imagine a mother with two preschoolers falling for Simon's bag of lies? What's his secret?"
"You mean besides those big blue eyes, the Ryan Gosling face and from what I heard, the rather large package down below?"
All four women started to laugh. I'd heard enough so I paid my bill with cash and walked out to my car. The rest of the day was kind of a blur; trying to figure out how I was going to confirm my worst fears. If Debbie was screwing this asshole, we were finished. So now, do I hire a PI to have her followed or were there other means to this end?
For the hell of it I called Debbie's office and pretended to be a vendor. The receptionist kindly told me that Ms. Miller was out and would return at 2:00. So much for keeping my fingers crossed that the gossip was groundless.
When Debbie came home that evening I did my best to act normal, although I almost lost it when she apologized for not being able to have lunch with me. She even had the nerve to kiss my cheek as she made her apologies. She asked if I would mind fixing dinner because she wanted to soak in the tub for a while before we sat down for dinner. She poured herself a glass of wine and headed to the master bath.
This was probably her way of removing the evidence, coming home and taking a shower would be too obvious; Debbie was smart enough to use the soaking tub as her camouflage. How many other nights had she used this subterfuge?
I quickly fixed a salad and tray of cheese and crackers, then headed up to the bath. I stripped my clothes in the bedroom and walked into the bathroom buck naked. Debbie nearly jumped out of her skin when I walked into the bathroom and started to enter the tub.
"Mark, what are you doing, trying to scare me to death?"
"Well, if you remember Deb, I live here too. Just thought we could share the hot water."
Debbie has a 'tell' when she lies or needs a moment to answer a question. She doesn't know she has it and I've never mentioned it to her. I've seen it from time to time, just last week I saw her 'tell' when a good friend of ours asked Debbie if she liked her new hair style. Debbie blinked twice, then told her friend she "absolutely" adored it.
Debbie gave her 'tell' before answering me. "I was just getting out because I'm absolutely starving. Is dinner ready?" (You may have guessed, Debbie's other tell is using words such as 'absolutely'.)
Before Debbie could wrap the towel around her I did my best to look her over. No tell-tale bite marks, etc. and I couldn't get a good look at her shaved crotch without being obvious. As the water was draining out of the tub I thought about taking a sample of the water and having it analyzed for sperm, but didn't have a clue how to do that.
Catching Debbie turned out to be incredibly simple. That night I downloaded a self-publicated book titled, "The Amateur Detective - Catching the Cheating Spouse" on my Kindle. It only took me a couple hours to read the broad strokes and the next morning I finished two tasks while Debbie was in the shower. I first checked Debbie's calendar on her smart phone. Yesterday at noon Debbie had blocked out two hours with a note "Work thru lunch." I noticed the previous Thursday had the same two hours blocked out with the same notation. How tricky of her.
The second task was to download a tracking app on her phone. This was way too easy and after I thought about it, I checked my phone. Son-of-a-bitch; my phone had a similar app on it. I quickly removed the app from Debbie's phone; no sense tipping my hand too soon. I kept the app on my phone, this could prove useful later on.
You read stories about guys acting normal while waiting to get the evidence of a cheating wife, but you can't believe how difficult this is until you try it. For the next five days I did my best to be the loving husband, even screwing her a few times over the weekend; although I didn't get near her cunt with my mouth, no way was that ever happening again after some other guy's cock has been in there.
Every morning I checked her calendar; Tuesday morning proved to be the day. There was a note between noon and two, "work thru lunch." After breakfast I drove to my office and did my best to get something done. On the way to work I picked up a drop phone from Walmart. At 11:00 am I forwarded my regular phone to my new drop phone and left the regular phone on my desk. If Debbie checked the tracking app she installed on my phone, it would show me sitting twenty miles away from her office. If she called me, I could answer on the drop phone.
I got downtown with fifteen minutes to spare and settled in at the Starbucks across from her office building. Right at noon she walked out of the front doors with a man - damn, he did look like Ryan Gosling. I left the Starbucks to follow them. It may sound hokey, but following the advice from the book I was wearing a baseball cap, sunglasses and had a small stone in my right shoe to change my stride. None of this mattered because the two love birds were only paying attention to each other as they walked hand in hand one block into the lobby of the Hotel Vintage.
I figured I had almost two hours so I went across the street to the bank and started to move some money, close our mutual credit card accounts and the home equity account. Debbie and I also had credit cards in each of our own names; she wouldn't know about the closed accounts until later when it wouldn't matter.
I also called my company's law firm and got a reference for a divorce attorney. Called her office and had an appointment for the next afternoon. With a half hour to spare I was back in the hotel lobby.
I was waiting in the lobby, trying to act inconspicuous while pretending to read the Wall Street Journal but actually watching the elevator doors when the two of them came down. I stood up.
"Debbie!"
Debbie stared at me with a shocked look on her face.
"Mark, God no!"
Simon was ready to act the hero because he stepped between me and Debbie and started to say something about being careful as he put his hand out like some damn traffic cop. I guess Debbie forgot to tell him about the boxing classes I take because he didn't seem to be ready when my fist entered his gut just below his solar plexus. He went down and actually pissed his pants.
Debbie just stood there, still moving her mouth like some damn fish. Before she could get any words out of it, I told her, "Might as well keep the room for the night, because I don't want you coming home tonight and probably ever again."
Unfortunately, right after I arrived home that afternoon a squad car pulled up and when I answered the door, I was cuffed and taken down to the Multnomah County jail and booked for assault. Simon had pressed charges. I ended up spending the night in jail before I was released the next day on my own reconnaissance. When I went back home it was apparent that Debbie had been at the house because most everything small and of any value, including the watch my father left me when he died, had been removed. I checked the closet and Debbie's clothes were gone as well - good riddance. I still had time to take a shower and make it to my appointment with the attorney.
Over the next three months the following occurred, not in any particular order.
The charges against me were dropped because I was lucky that the clerk behind the registration desk told the police Simon had advanced on me and she saw him raise his hand. To her it looked like he was ready to attack me. I think she was one of those people who are happy to see any skunk screwing a married woman get his just reward. She didn't actually lie, just interpreted Simon's actions to my benefit.
I only communicated with Debbie through our attorneys; she tried the "can't we make this work?" routine. I held firm with "no" and the divorce papers went through the system. When I refused to agree to counselling Debbie went nuclear and tried to get over half our community property, alimony, etc. My post-Debbie luck was holding out because my attorney argued that even though we lived in a no-fault state that I shouldn't have to suffer the consequences of her actions. The judge was swayed.
My attorney used a unique approach; she brought up that although Debbie had the opportunity to write her own vows, she had agreed to the traditional vows which included "forsaking all others," therefore I had an expectation of fidelity. Second, we had the deposition from Debbie's coworker of the conversation in Debbie's office when she refused my invitation to lunch to have "lunch" with Simon. Third, and you could have heard a pin drop when it came up in court; Debbie's removal of my father's watch while I was in jail. The judge tried her best to keep a neutral face when she heard this testimony, but it obviously made an impact on her. Even Debbie's attorney cringed when the statement was read in court.
I got my divorce and my watch back. Debbie and I split everything we had accumulated during the marriage and she didn't receive any alimony. Debbie did ask for one more thing and it was granted. She asked for a sit down with me before the final papers were signed, sealed and delivered. What the hell, I agreed if only out of curiosity.
So we sat down at her attorney's office and she started the crap about how much she loved me, how sorry she was that she fell into Simon's trap and how she thought we were a great couple with a wonderful future.
When I had heard enough, I decided to bluff. "Debbie, tell me about the others."
Debbie blinked twice before answering, "Mark, I've absolutely never been with any other man since we've been together."
I shook my head, "Goodbye Debbie."
That must have really pissed off Debbie because three weeks later I received a CD in the mail. It's hard to believe, I always thought Debbie was a fairly intelligent woman, but the CD contained a sex tape of Debbie and Simon. It started with a fully dressed Debbie looking straight into the camera.
"Mark, this one's for you; eat your heart out."
The next scene was a naked Debbie giving Simon a very sloppy blow job. I must admit Simon did have a rather large cock, so maybe that was her reason for getting something on the side. Anyway, Debbie was always good at giving head and this was probably taped after our divorce so I decided to watch two good looking people have sex.
Debbie worked for five minutes or more trying to get the whole cock down her throat; like so many amateur pornos this one was just starting to get boring when she eased off the thing. The resolution was excellent, I could even see the string of saliva and pre-cum from the head of his cock to her lips as they repositioned on the end of the bed to sit on his lap with both of them facing the camera. Simon was obviously an active participant in the filming, but I'm guessing he didn't know she was planning to send the finished results to me even though she addressed the camera every once and a while. Some guys can't help but think with the wrong head.
Debbie's a rather slight woman, she can't weigh more than 115 pounds on a 5'8" frame and a good deal of her weight has to be in those gorgeous C cup breasts. She was sitting in Simon's lap with his cock in front of her, it reached up to her belly button.
"Now watch this."
She raised up a put the mushroom head between the lips of her cunt and started a slow descent onto his shaft. Damn - this was good stuff. Somebody is going to enjoy this show.
Once she got three-quarters of that cock stuffed inside she stopped and bit her lower lip. She raised back up and began pumping up and down. Meantime, Simon's hands were on Debbie's breasts and his fingers were pinching her nipples. Debbie is looking at the camera, her lower lip in between her teeth and it didn't take her more than a couple of minutes before she came. The orgasm was anything but subtle, her body was shaking, she rose up one last time and Simon's cock was now glistening with Debbie's cum and when Debbie collapsed the entire thing entered her. You could hear Simon on the audio grunting. Damn - this was great stuff.
It took Debbie a minute to recover and when she lifted herself off Simon's cock a shitload of their combined cum ran out of her cunt. Debbie looked at the camera and blew me a kiss.
The entire video only lasted fifteen minutes but it was one of the hottest fifteen minutes of porn I'd seen so I thought it should be shared. I opened an account on Tumblr titled "Debbie Does Simon" and posted the video on the site. The site was getting a couple hundred hits every day and a great deal of "Likes" before I took it down.
I seriously considered sending links to the site to Debbie's parents, friends and employer, but in the end I decided to de-escalate the war. I never told Debbie about the Tumblr account, but I did send her an email warning that any more such videos would find their way to her father's computer screen. Debbie actually replied with an apology and the lame explanation that she was still hurt how it all ended and was trying to make me jealous. She promised to stop.
I'm a pretty stoic guy; I'm certain most people who know me even consider me a bit cold. After the divorce and even after watching the video I didn't cry, spend a week drunk or consider eating my gun. I was sad, after all Debbie was my best friend for the six years we'd been married.
Her betrayal did remove any trust I had in other people. If you start to think people are untrustworthy, you start to see it in your everyday dealings with people. In my college psychology class I'm fairly certain they called it a self-fulfilling prophecy. Now when a bartender or sales clerk gave me change for a ten instead of my twenty, I figured they were trying to cheat me. Little things like that turned me into a cynic. My job in sales didn't help either because it's such a dog-eat-dog environment.
As for women, I went through the normal routine of chasing skirts and hanging out at bars. Kind of a lonely existence.
Until I met Becky.
A year after my divorce I met Becky at a dinner party given by some clients. Becky was beautiful; with green eyes, blond hair, a body that belonged on the cover of a Victoria's Secret catalog and best of all, the personality of a woman you're proud to take home to meet your family. Her smile and laugh could light up a room, they certainly lit me up. I did everything I could at that dinner party to be the most charming and the most interesting man in the world, I could have sold Mexican beer that evening. Now if I could only sell myself to this lady.
As we were getting ready to call it a night I approached Becky and asked if I could take her to dinner the following weekend.
"How can I say no?" she asked, "You worked so hard tonight to make me want to say yes, that effort should be rewarded."
"That obvious?"
"Yes, but I think it's cute. I also asked our hostess what she thought of you and she said you had potential, so let's go out next Friday and find out."
After two months of dating we decided to become exclusive, but didn't rush things, we kept our separate residences although we were together four or five nights a week. Every one of my friends fell in love with her. Best of all, I was starting to fall in love with Becky and felt she might be falling in love with me.
The sex started just after pledging exclusivity. A gentleman shouldn't kiss and tell, but without going into detail let me say that it was the best sex in my life up to that point. Nothing was off limits for her, as long as it was limited to what two people could do with one another.
I will share one thing and only because this is more embarrassing to me than it is to her. Becky absolutely loved getting oral sex. If you've ever seen the Japanese movie, "In the Realm of the Senses" you have some idea; there's a scene in the movie where the guy eats a hard-boiled egg out of the geisha's vagina. I never ate an egg, but we did experiment with cherries, chocolate, whipped cream and a variety of desserts.
Now the embarrassing part; one night Becky asked me to eat her after I came in her. I was hesitant, but given some of the things she did for me, thought I should at least give it a try. I swirled some bourbon in my mouth before, during and after, that might have had something to do with Becky having an incredible series of orgasms. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be because it was my own sperm, but I drew the line one night when she offered me a snowball after I came in her mouth.
In and out of bed, we had fun. Yes, I was starting to think this could be my ticket to happiness and then the bottom dropped out.
My clue that something may be wrong occurred one day when Becky and I took an early afternoon off from our respective jobs and were hanging out having a beer. Becky's phone rang, she looked at the read out and ignored the call. This wasn't like her, she usually would answer calls and tell whomever she would call them back later. After my cluelessness with Debbie, I was now more observant and suspicious. I wasn't going to play the part of the happy cuckold again.
Later that evening I had the opportunity to grab her phone and look at the call listings. At 3:30 she missed a call from someone listed on her contacts as "JR." Looking through the call log I found a few calls between the two of them. I next accessed Becky's calendar and found she was scheduled to meet a JR at 1:00 the following day. Time to find my baseball cap, sunglasses and shoe stone again.
Thursday afternoon I was in the sandwich shop across the street from Becky's office building. She walked out the building alone and headed north on Broadway before entering the Marriott. Just as I entered the lobby Becky and a man were walking up to the reception desk and talking to the front desk clerk. I could not believe my eyes. How could this be happening to me again? I was nearly sick to my stomach as I walked up to the two of them.
"You cheating, lying bitch!"
Becky turned around and looked at me. I don't think the expression on her face would have been different if I had shot her with a gun. The man she was with looked at me and asked, "Who is this?"
Before Becky could answer his question a second man approached wearing a Marriott name badge. He stared, confused, at the three of us, but before anyone could say another word, Becky ran out of the lobby. Things were happening too fast, but I read the name badge of the second man. "Greg Huston, Catering Manager" and then looked back at the first man.
The first man broke the silence, "I understand, you're Mark. I'm Jon Riley, the person Becky hired to coordinate your surprise 30th birthday party here at the Marriott. I think you just really fucked it all up."
Becky never returned my calls after that day. A week later I woke up and found a box of the things I left at her apartment on the stoop in front of my townhouse. There was a note inside that simply read, "I don't want anything I left in your home, give it all to charity. Becky"
For the next six months I went into a funk. I ate, slept and went to work. One afternoon I decided to go out and attend Portland's annual craft beer festival on the riverfront. Just my luck to run into Becky there, she was with a guy and they were obviously a couple. After introducing us Becky asked him if she could have a word with me. To his credit her boyfriend said yes.
"Mark, sorry I never talked to you again, but at the time I was so hurt and so angry. I called my mother that night and she told me you were damaged goods and to run for my life. I listened to my mother's advice and left you alone."
"Becky, I wish I could get mad at you for how it ended, but unfortunately I think your mother's right. I am more damaged by Debbie's betrayal than I imagined. I'm sorry I called you names in that hotel lobby, you didn't deserve that and I was an ass."
"Mark, get help. You're too good a person to live the rest of your life alone because one person broke your trust. Find someone who can help you, whether it's a counsellor or priest or whomever. I'm sorry I wasn't the person to make you whole again, we almost had something."
"Thanks for the advice, I think you're right, I need to get my act together. Thank your boyfriend for giving us the opportunity to speak. You deserve a guy that trusts you enough to do that. Say hello to your mom for me and tell her what I said. She raised a beautiful woman and her instincts were correct."
We walked away from each other and I saw moisture in her eyes, I had to turn around quickly before she saw my tears.
So where do you go when you need to resynch and get your life back on track? Where I should have gone when my marriage fell apart. I took three weeks of vacation and headed home to Chicago. Time to play the prodigal son.
Mom still lived in the house we grew up in on the north side of the city. I was the only one of her children to move out of the area, so she wasn't lonely; my older sister had two kids and my younger brother had three, I used to tease him that his wife was a regular baby machine, three kids before his 30th birthday. With five grandkids nearby mom stayed busy, but I knew she missed having me around; although I can't imagine why since she always claimed I was the reason for her gray hair.
The second day in town mom invited my siblings and their families for a big sit down feast. She served my favorite meal, her homemade lasagna and my favorite dessert, her chocolate cheese cake. Like I said, prodigal son stuff. I played the long lost uncle and gave each of my nieces and nephews some expensive electronic gift that most of them were too young to use. You could see their parents' eyes rolling at my stupidity, but I think they appreciated the sentiment.
After everyone left mom and I did the dishes together and had a chance to chat. Mom wasn't one to dispense advice, that was always dad's job, but mom always knew what to do.
"Your buddy Hank Taylor still stops by from time to time. He asks how you are. When's the last time you two talked?"
"Not as often as we should and before you say it - yes, it's probably my fault we don't communicate more often."
"Give him a call."
Hank was my best friend from the time we met in kindergarten until the time I left for college. From K-12 we were inseparable, in little league he was the pitcher and I was the catcher, for six years of football, he was the quarterback and I was his wide receiver.
I quit baseball our freshman year since I was at best a mediocre hitter and the track coach noticed during PE class my aptitude for the pole vault and high jump. I quit football after our junior year because my father was concerned I'd get hurt and ruin my chances at a college track scholarship. I was one of the top high school pole vaulters in the nation as a junior and the University of Oregon was set to recruit me.
My father's decision to keep me out of football had a negative effect on Hank's life. Our football team just missed going to state our junior year. Much of our success was due to the Taylor-Miller combination; I was Hank's #1 target. His senior year was a bust, most of the receivers had glass hands and his statistics weren't good enough to get a college football scholarship, his first love. He did get a baseball scholarship to Southern Illinois and did well for himself. Hank knew my father and his influence on my decision, he never held it against me that I had dropped out of football.
I ended up at UO and was on the fast track to the Olympics when a freak accident ended my pole vaulting career. During warm ups at the NCAA finals my pole snapped in two, a one in a million occurrence. I fell at an awkward angle and shattered my knee so bad it took two years of therapy to get back to 90%. By that time the Olympics were over and I had my Bachelor's degree. I also had a quarter million in the bank after the pole manufacturer settled. (In case you're wondering, Debbie couldn't touch the quarter mil, dad had insisted on a pre-nup.)
With me at Oregon and Hank at SIU we started to drift apart. I was one of his groomsman when he married Janice and was last back home after Janice gave birth to their second son. It was now just over two years since I last saw Hank and if he was pissed at my negligence he didn't show it. Within thirty minutes of my call to his house we were sitting in his back yard having a beer.
First I caught up on what was happening in Hank's life: his job (Chicago firefighter), his wife (Janice) and his two boys (Mark and Hank). Then it was my turn. Hank heard about my divorce from mom, but she hadn't shared any particulars. He was less surprised by these events than I anticipated; he was surprised when I told him how my relationship with Becky ended and how I was having trust issues.
"Since Debbie's cheating I've had a hard time trusting anyone. It just seems everyone is out for themselves."
Hank stared at me before responding. "That's because for the last twelve years you've been hanging out with all the wrong people.
"Let me tell you a story you don't know. For all three years you and Ginny dated throughout high school I was in love with Ginny. Yea, I can see by the look on your face you didn't have a clue; and that's the way it should be. A friend never messes with a friend's lady, no matter what. Remember that trip to my uncle's lodge up in Door County? You had to work on Friday and so did the girl I was going with at the time, Stacy.
"Ginny and I went up to the lodge Friday morning to get things ready, you and Stacy were coming up Friday night after work. Your car broke down and you didn't get up there until late Saturday afternoon.
"So Ginny and I are going to be by ourselves all night because we get your call that you're stuck in Milwaukee, we're drinking some cheap wine, Ginny is still wearing one of her bikinis from the swim in the lake, and to top it off the power goes out at the cabin so now we're sitting by candlelight.
"And you want to know what happened that night between Ginny and me? Nothing! Because a friend never crosses that line. And if I wasn't a friend and I tried to make a move on Ginny, you know what would have happened? Nothing! Because Ginny was the kind of girlfriend that would never cheat on her man.
"You went to Oregon and left the people you could count on to follow your Olympic dream. That's OK, but you shouldn't have replaced your friends with self-centered grabbers out for themselves.
"I feel sorry for you Mark."
It took me a few moments to register what Hank had said. Then I thought about Ginny.
"Do you have any idea where Ginny is or what's she's up to? I haven't seen her since the first Christmas when I came home during my freshman year at Oregon. We pretty much broke up that week. One more long distance romance bites the dust. It didn't help I pledged Delta and the sorority girls were easy."
"Ginny was here a couple months ago; she's a widow now with a five-year-old son."
"A widow? What happened?"
"Her husband's last tour in Afghanistan. He got shot up, she didn't go into details but I understand he won some important medals for bravery, posthumously unfortunately. Ginny's trying to hang in there for the sake of their son, but you can tell she's barely keeping it together. She's still living down in San Diego County near the base and his fellow officers keep an eye on her. She'd probably enjoy hearing from you if you'd like her email."
"Is she still hot? Did anything happen between you two while she was in town?" I glanced over my shoulder when I asked this to make certain Janice couldn't overhear our conversation, but the storm door was closed.
"You haven't been listening Mark. What the fuck happened to you? For one thing, I would never cheat on Janice. For another, Ginny would never have sex with a married man. It's just not who either of us are. You need to get your head out of your ass."
Only Hank Taylor could talk to me that way.
That evening I sent an email to Ginny.
"Ginny
Hank Taylor gave me your email address, I hope it's not inappropriate for me to contact you but I will be in the San Diego area this weekend and wondered if I could take you and your son to lunch or dinner either Friday or Saturday. Just to catch up.
Warm regards,
Mark"
Early Tuesday morning I received a pleasant surprise reply to my email.
"Mark
How nice to hear from you after all these years; lunch on Friday will work for me and my son Kevin. My address is xxxx.
I'll expect you at noon unless I hear differently from you.
Your friend,
Ginny"
Hank was on duty starting Tuesday, which meant he'd be in the fire station until I was scheduled to leave town. But he invited me to tour the station and have a meal with his crew. I took him up on the offer and later that day was sitting at a table with a cast of characters. Black, White, Hispanic, men and women; it's still hard for me to explain the feelings I was getting as I sat between two of Hank's fellow firefighters. They were both open to answering my questions; they were probably used to civilians in awe of what they considered routine. What became apparent is the necessity of trust required to perform their tasks while fighting a fire. The only way each firefighter dared to enter a burning building was with the knowledge that their teammates would watch each other's back and do their job.
It's probably then that I began to realize when my life started to go off its rails. Back in high school I replaced baseball and football, two team sports with individual events in track and field. Although the overall score for the track team was dependent on others, my contribution was solely based upon my efforts alone. Even my chosen profession, sales, was similar to this. Whether I made a sale or not was dependent almost entirely upon my efforts. The only team effort I could point to since l turned fifteen was my marriage to Debbie. Could my failed marriage be partially blamed by my selfishness, or the fact that I married a woman with traits of selfishness similar to my own?
Semper fidelis
Thursday I flew into San Diego, rented a car and checked into the Coronado. Friday I drove north to Ginny's home; one of four units of a quad townhome. I rang the bell and waited, trying to hide the bouquet of flowers from the sight of a nosey neighbor.
I almost dropped the flowers when the door opened. My god; Ginny was more beautiful than she was when she was nineteen. She was dressed in a bright blue sundress and there was a small boy wrapped around one of her legs.
"Mark, welcome." She put her hands behind my head and kissed me on the cheek. "Are those for me?" she said pointing to the flowers.
It was a silly question but I think she was trying to get me to say something because I was still just standing there frozen. I answered by handing her the bouquet.
"Thanks Mark; come in please while I put these in water."
"Mark, this is my son Kevin. Kevin, this is Mr. Miller, an old friend I went to school with before I met your daddy."
Kevin put his tiny hand out and said, "Hello, Mr. Miller."
I finally found my voice and said, "Hello Kevin" while shaking his hand.
While Ginny was putting the flowers in a vase I looked around the apartment. The first thing that caught my attention was the folded flag in the center of the bookcase. On one side of the flag was a photo of a Marine; attached to the frame were two medals, the Purple Heart and the Navy Cross.
"That's my dad."
I looked at the photo on the other side of the flag. Ginny with her husband and an infant Kevin at the beach. Just then Ginny walked into the room.
"Ginny, I'm sorry if this doesn't come out right, but this is a beautiful photo, you three look very much in love. You must miss him."
"No need to apologize, that's a nice thing to say and yes, we were madly in love. I met him at Northwestern, he was in the ROTC program while I was studying journalism. My classmates questioned why I would fall in love with a military man, most of my classmates had little regard for the military. But besides being a strong confident man, Chuck was the kind of man you could put your trust in, he had a heart of gold."
There's that word again - trust. Ginny's eyes were tearing slightly while she stared at the photo, so I broke the silence.
"Are you still up for lunch?"
"Yes, we need to get caught up. C'mon Kevin, Mr. Miller is taking us out to the Red Robin."
Kevin was pretty excited about that and we hopped into Ginny's car rather than move the car seat to my rental. The conversation was more upbeat during the drive and by the time we entered the restaurant the three of us were laughing at some silly joke Kevin told us.
Lunch was wonderful; although Ginny had gone through so many life changes since we last spoke: marriage, child, widow; she was still the same - kind, smart, funny and charming. At one point Ginny asked me why I was in San Diego. I was embarrassed, but decided to tell the truth.
"I told you about the scolding both my mom and Hank gave me. So the truth is, I came here to apologize to you for how I ended things back then. You deserved better and quite honestly, listening to you tell me about your marriage to Chuck, you did much better."
"What are you going to do now? Are you heading back to Portland?"
"My flight's not until Sunday evening. I think I'll spend the next couple days on the beach running some and trying to get my head straight. I have a lot to think about."
Kevin relieved his boredom by coloring with the crayons the restaurant gives the kids as the two adults got caught up. But we were pressing it after two hours so we drove back to Ginny's.
"Mark, would you like to attend a barbeque at my friends' house tomorrow?
"What, and miss a day by myself contemplating my navel? You're asking a lot."
Ginny laughed. "Well, if you change your mind and decide to go with us to the barbeque, pick me up at eleven tomorrow. Dress casual, shorts and a polo shirt. Oh yea - bring some beer."
I told Ginny I'd see her then, gave her a kiss on the cheek and shook Kevin's hand. As I drove back to my hotel all the reasons why I loved Ginny for those three years in high school came flooding back to me.
The next day Ginny, Kevin and I went to the picnic. Ginny was wearing a pair of white cutoffs and some kind of bra-top t-shirt. The shorts weren't too short for a family picnic, but they did show how toned she kept her athletic legs. The top just hinted at cleavage, sexy but understated. She wore her blonde hair in a ponytail. Aviator sunglasses hid her brown eyes.
After we parked the car Ginny took my hand to introduce me to her friends. As we approached a small group of men, apparently all Marines, I could feel their eyes inspecting me, I had the feeling this picnic was partially a test to see if I was good enough to date Ginny. The introductions were made and Ginny left me to make certain Kevin was situated with the other children; at least that's the reason she gave me.
I addressed the group, "I hope it's not a cliché, but thank you for your service."
Captain John Clayton answered for the group. "Whether it's a cliché or not, it's always welcome to hear. My father served in Vietnam and I can see the pleasure in his eyes whenever we're out together, I'm in uniform, and someone thanks me. Far different from his experience after returning from Nam."
From there the conversation turned to more pleasant topics; including the manly icebreaker - sports. The day passed quickly; I would spend a little time with Ginny, some time with the men and even spent an hour in the kitchen with the ladies swapping cooking tips. At the end of the day I was invited to join the men at a local tavern after I brought Ginny home.
Kevin was asleep in his car seat.
"Well, did I pass?"
"I think so. But I'll probably get a call from Doreen after you leave for the tavern. Then I'll get another call tomorrow after the men report back to their wives tonight. I hope you don't mind too much; they are a tight group that take care of their own. I'll always be a part of them because of Chuck, he and John Clayton were very close in Afghanistan."
I held my breath and decided to ask the question that was swirling through my brain. "So the fact that I'm being vetted means you want to continue seeing me?"
"Yes Mark. We've both changed since high school, but there's still something in my heart for you. If you want to keep seeing me, I'd like that very much."
"I'd like that too Ginny. Let the vetting begin." We laughed and I remembered how much I used to enjoy the sound of her laughter.
"It will probably be late when I leave the bar. Can we see each other tomorrow, that is if I passed the tests?"
Ginny laughed again. "I usually go to mass at ten. You can join me for mass or come over afterwards." She looked in my eyes, "When's the last time you were at mass Mark?"
"Besides funerals and weddings? It's been at least ten years. I slowly left the church when I moved to Oregon; I didn't stop believing, just stopped going to church."
We were pulling up to her house. I carefully pulled Kevin from his car seat and carried him to his bed. I turned to see Ginny at the doorway, looking at us with a smile on her face. I walked over to her, gave her a hug and a kiss; she kissed me back.
"See you tomorrow, I'll be here at nine-thirty. Wish me luck."
I entered the bar and was greeted by five men, including John Clayton.
"What'ya have Mark?"
I quickly looked at the taps, "A Stone would be nice."
"Rodriguez, one Stone for our friend."
The bartender poured my pint and the six of us grabbed a table.
John was obviously the leader here, so he started it rolling. "Mark, we're not trying to give you a hard time, but you have to understand, three of us at this table, including me, and Roddy, the bartender, all owe our lives to Chuck Turner. Did Ginny tell you anything about that?"
"No, I saw the Navy Cross, so I knew it had to be something special, but I didn't want to intrude so I kept quiet."
"Good for you, shows respect. I'll tell you though. We were on patrol in the mountains near Pakistan when we were ambushed by forty or so Taliban. We couldn't call in an airstrike because it would have caused an avalanche. We couldn't retreat because they would have held the high ground and picked us off. Chuck ordered us to flank them while he and Rodriguez stayed in position to draw them closer. It took us three hours in that rugged terrain to move behind the Taliban. For three hours Chuck and Roddy kept them occupied.
"We succeeded in the flanking and with the high ground we were able to wipe them out. But, by the time we reached Chuck and Roddy, both had been hit. Chuck had four wounds and he was still fighting. He died in my arms. Roddy was unconscious with head and leg wounds. Roddy has a prosthetic leg and that's why he's a bartender instead of on active duty.
"So that's why Ginny is our responsibility. At least until someone comes along and removes the responsibility from us. Someone worthy."
"I understand John. Let me answer you this way. Ask Ginny if I ever did anything during the three years we were together that was disrespectful. My worse sin was ever letting her go, but I think that worked out better for her because she met Chuck and had their son. I didn't have the maturity back then to be a good husband or father.
"I've never touched a woman in anger, even when I caught my first wife with another man. I may not have what you have, the guts to charge men shooting back at you, but I'm not a coward either. I wouldn't back down if it meant protecting the person I love from harm.
"I recently figured out I'm a bit self-centered, but I'll be working on that. So, now that I know how things stand, let me ask you all." I stopped to look around the table. "Do I have your permission to continue seeing Ginny?"
People may think this was a little overboard, asking permission to date an adult, but I saw it as a way to show respect for their obvious caretaking of a comrade's widow. I wasn't being a phony, but I am a good salesman because I know how to read people pretty well. And it was the right thing to ask because the answer was a broad smile from John and the others.
"Roddy, can you bring us a round of the good stuff? Make it the Knob Creek."
Rodriguez brought seven shot glasses half filled with the amber liquid. John held up his glass for a toast. "To Captain Chuck Turner" Rodriguez joined us and we all touched glasses and drank.
We stayed for another couple hours, drank slow to avoid a DUI, but covered a variety of topics. At one point I was told why Ginny wasn't currently dating anyone. John gave me the lowdown.
"Ginny and another Marine were starting to get serious last year. The trouble was, Ginny couldn't get serious with another Marine, not after losing her first husband. And Tom lived his whole life wanting to be a Marine. Tom told Ginny that he would quit the Marines and Ginny told Tom that if he did she would never talk to him again. Tom transferred to Lejeune right after that, Ginny hasn't been serious since then until she received your email. Doreen said she called that day fairly excited about your visit. Don't tell I said anything."
"Won't say a thing, but thanks for sharing."
The next day began my romancing of Ginny. I racked up serious Alaska Air frequent flier miles flying between Portland and San Diego; every other weekend spent with Ginny and Kevin. The hotel rooms were getting expensive on top of the airfare and Ginny wasn't ready for us to consummate the relationship, John and Doreen were kind enough to put me up in their guest room.
At home I did my best to work on my interpersonal skills; even my boss noticed a difference in my behavior. I joined the company softball team, in San Diego I played doubles tennis at the base courts, Ginny was my partner and we did pretty good for new partners.
It was my fifth trip down to San Diego, three months since my first visit, I stepped out of the terminal and into Ginny's car; when I looked back, Kevin's car seat was empty. "Where's Kevin?"
"Doreen and John have him this weekend. I have a surprise for you; I hope you like it." was Ginny's reply as she pulled from the curb, left the airport and drove north on I-5.
Ginny wouldn't tell me any more regarding our destination so we caught up on other things. She told me Kevin was disappointed he wouldn't see me until Sunday; he was really growing attached to me. I could tell that pleased Ginny just by the tone of her voice. As we drove I took the time to notice Ginny was wearing the same blue sundress she wore for our first lunch, but this time she didn't have a bra under the dress.
We pulled into the La Jolla Beach & Tennis Resort. She gave me a big smile. "I think it's time, don't you?" My answer to her question was a broad shit-eating grin. As soon as she parked the car I grabbed her and gave her a kiss.
"You know I've fallen in love with you again, don't you Mark?"
"Well thank god, because I was hoping you would ever since that first weekend. I love you Ginny."
What a weekend! Ginny and I ordered room service and made love all Friday night. It's funny, we had sex two of the three years when we were dating in high school, so you have some expectations of what's it's going to be like. But the intervening years taught both of us some things - thank goodness - because what we did that night was nothing like the fumbling awkwardness of those two teenagers over twelve years ago. Let me just say that by the time I passed out after 2:00 am that there was a giant smile on my face.
We played tennis Saturday afternoon and made love Saturday night. Sunday morning she surprised the hell out of me by taking us to the nude beach below the cliffs at Torrey Pines. Ginny kept her bikini bottoms on, but did remove her top. I got brave and removed my trunks for a half hour before worrying about sun burn and putting them back on.
"How did you know about this beach? Don't tell me you've done this before."
"Don't say anything, but Doreen and John come down here once and a while. Doreen told me and swore me to secrecy. Now you're sworn in, too."
We people-watched for a bit and even thought about joining the volleyball game, but decided maybe next time. I thought playing volleyball with a group of naked co-eds would be an excellent way to improve my interpersonal, team-building skills.
It was early afternoon and time to pick up Kevin, so we headed back up the cliffs and over to the Clayton's home. John greeted me with a big handshake and a bottle of beer, Doreen gave me a hug and a big smile, Kevin wrapped his arms around my legs. We had dinner with the Claytons, the entire evening Kevin spent by my side. He seemed sad when Ginny dropped me off at the airport. On the flight home I made a decision.
Two weeks later we were back at the Clayton's for Friday evening drinks. When John and I were alone I filled him in. "I'm going to ask Ginny to marry me; unless you have a reason I shouldn't."
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't. She madly in love with you and I can't think of a nicer guy or anything that could make her any happier. Does this mean she'll be moving to Portland?"
If she says 'yes' and if she agrees I'm working on getting us back to the Chicagoland area. She misses her folks and siblings."
"That's great Mark. I know she's talked about her family with Doreen. How are you going to handle this with Kevin?"
"I'm going to take him to lunch tomorrow and have a chat. Keep your fingers crossed for me."
"You may be surprised by his response; that kid likes you."
The next day Ginny looked at me funny when I told her Kevin and I had to run some errands together, but I got away with it by excusing it as guy bonding time. We headed straight to Red Robin and grabbed a table. Over two milkshakes I popped the question.
"Kevin, what would you say if I asked your mother to marry me, would that be OK?" I held my breath waiting for his answer.
"That would be nice Mr. Miller. My mom really likes you."
"And you Kevin; do you like me enough for me to live with your mom and you?"
"Yea. Does this make you my dad?"
"Kinda. Nobody could take the place of your real dad. What did you call him?"
"I called him 'dad'."
"Then how about if your mom and I get married that you call me 'pop'? Would that be OK?"
Kevin had a nice sweet smile on his face and answered with a short, "Sure." We headed back to his house. Two down, one to go.
I figured Kevin would have a hard time keeping our conversation a secret; as soon as we walked in the door I had the ring in my hand, Kevin carried a bouquet of red roses. Ginny smiled when she saw the roses, then looked confused when I dropped to my knees.
"Ginny, will you marry me?" Not very original, but straight to the point.
Ginny dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around me.
"Yes, I love you Mark." That's all I needed to hear. Kevin wrapped his arms around us. Unfortunately, he forgot to drop the roses first and the thorns scratched my neck. Fortunately, that was probably the worst thing that happened in our years together.
Epilogue
I won't draw it out. My life with Ginny is blessed in so many ways. We married three months after I proposed. By then I found a great sales job for a start-up north of Chicago; close enough to our families and our old friends. Kevin now has a brother and a sister; they all call me 'pop' since that's what Kevin calls me. Ginny still looks amazing after three kids, we still play doubles tennis and please don't tell anyone, but we learned to play volleyball and get a game in down at Black's Beach whenever we visit the Claytons.
Last May our family met the Clayton clan in Washington DC. We did the usual tours and on Memorial Day we visited Chuck's gravesite at Arlington to pay our respects. It was ten years since Captain Turner was taken from his wife and son; it was a sad, somber and proud day. I was glad John and Doreen were there to help me comfort Kevin and Ginny. It took a full day for any smiles to return and for days afterwards you could see the hurt from time to time. But it was the right thing to do; to pay our respects to any person - whether in the military, police or fire department - that voluntarily lives his or her life knowing someday they may be required to sacrifice everything in performance of their duties. We returned from our trip and it took a few weeks, but things returned to normal; even with Captain Charles Turner's flag, medals and photo on the bookcase. It's humbling for me that Ginny and Kevin allowed me in their lives after having such a brave man as their husband and father.
As for me, well I'm glad I opened my eyes and ears to learn what trust is really all about. Even Hank stopped threatening to kick my sorry butt. Although he still gets mad at me any time I miss the cut off man during our softball league games. My excuse is I'm distracted by the beautiful blonde with the three cheering kids in the stands. My life is good.
How do you begin to trust again after being burned?
I was in love. She was my wife and I thought she was my best friend. Debbie and I were married for six years when I found out it was all an illusion.
We were living in Portland at the time, Debbie had recently taken a job as an internal auditor with the largest real estate firm in the city, I was in sales for a national machine tools manufacturer. Given my product line, it was rare for me to be downtown; most of my clients were in the burbs or outlying areas in Western Oregon, but this day found me in the city with an extra two hours on my hands.
I called Debbie, asked her to lunch and was disappointed when she told me that she had to finish a spreadsheet before an important meeting that afternoon. I didn't want to waste the opportunity so I went over to Jake's for a bowl of their crawfish Etouffée. I was enjoying the nut brown sauce over rice listening to the table of ladies behind me and wondering how they do it. All four women seemed to be talking at the same time. It wasn't the first time I'd witnessed this phenomenon and it always puzzled me, men can't do that.
I sat there smiling to myself while trying to understand how anyone could comprehend the gibberish when something one of the ladies said registered in my head; I wasn't the only person intrigued by the lady's question because the other three women at the table stopped talking at once.
"So is Deborah Miller doing the dirty with Simon Walker?"
This question got my instant attention because my wife's given name is Deborah; she uses that name in her professional life, only family and friends call her Debbie; and Miller is the name she shares with me since we married (I'm Mark Miller, by the way).
One of the ladies asked, "Why, what do you know?"
The first answered, "I was sitting in Deborah's office when she took a call from her husband. She refused his invitation by making some excuse about working through her lunch hour. Five minutes later Simon sticks his head in her office and asks if she's ready to head out. She nodded her head to Simon then turned red as she looked back at me; obviously embarrassed I had heard her lie to her husband."
My heart sank at her words, but my ears stayed tuned as the other ladies continued this stream of gossip.
"It didn't take Simon long to sink his fangs into another married woman did it? Deborah's only been in the office for a month."
"And it's only been two months since Heidi Johnson quit. I heard her husband forced her to quit after he learned about her affair with Simon. Can you imagine a mother with two preschoolers falling for Simon's bag of lies? What's his secret?"
"You mean besides those big blue eyes, the Ryan Gosling face and from what I heard, the rather large package down below?"
All four women started to laugh. I'd heard enough so I paid my bill with cash and walked out to my car. The rest of the day was kind of a blur; trying to figure out how I was going to confirm my worst fears. If Debbie was screwing this asshole, we were finished. So now, do I hire a PI to have her followed or were there other means to this end?
For the hell of it I called Debbie's office and pretended to be a vendor. The receptionist kindly told me that Ms. Miller was out and would return at 2:00. So much for keeping my fingers crossed that the gossip was groundless.
When Debbie came home that evening I did my best to act normal, although I almost lost it when she apologized for not being able to have lunch with me. She even had the nerve to kiss my cheek as she made her apologies. She asked if I would mind fixing dinner because she wanted to soak in the tub for a while before we sat down for dinner. She poured herself a glass of wine and headed to the master bath.
This was probably her way of removing the evidence, coming home and taking a shower would be too obvious; Debbie was smart enough to use the soaking tub as her camouflage. How many other nights had she used this subterfuge?
I quickly fixed a salad and tray of cheese and crackers, then headed up to the bath. I stripped my clothes in the bedroom and walked into the bathroom buck naked. Debbie nearly jumped out of her skin when I walked into the bathroom and started to enter the tub.
"Mark, what are you doing, trying to scare me to death?"
"Well, if you remember Deb, I live here too. Just thought we could share the hot water."
Debbie has a 'tell' when she lies or needs a moment to answer a question. She doesn't know she has it and I've never mentioned it to her. I've seen it from time to time, just last week I saw her 'tell' when a good friend of ours asked Debbie if she liked her new hair style. Debbie blinked twice, then told her friend she "absolutely" adored it.
Debbie gave her 'tell' before answering me. "I was just getting out because I'm absolutely starving. Is dinner ready?" (You may have guessed, Debbie's other tell is using words such as 'absolutely'.)
Before Debbie could wrap the towel around her I did my best to look her over. No tell-tale bite marks, etc. and I couldn't get a good look at her shaved crotch without being obvious. As the water was draining out of the tub I thought about taking a sample of the water and having it analyzed for sperm, but didn't have a clue how to do that.
Catching Debbie turned out to be incredibly simple. That night I downloaded a self-publicated book titled, "The Amateur Detective - Catching the Cheating Spouse" on my Kindle. It only took me a couple hours to read the broad strokes and the next morning I finished two tasks while Debbie was in the shower. I first checked Debbie's calendar on her smart phone. Yesterday at noon Debbie had blocked out two hours with a note "Work thru lunch." I noticed the previous Thursday had the same two hours blocked out with the same notation. How tricky of her.
The second task was to download a tracking app on her phone. This was way too easy and after I thought about it, I checked my phone. Son-of-a-bitch; my phone had a similar app on it. I quickly removed the app from Debbie's phone; no sense tipping my hand too soon. I kept the app on my phone, this could prove useful later on.
You read stories about guys acting normal while waiting to get the evidence of a cheating wife, but you can't believe how difficult this is until you try it. For the next five days I did my best to be the loving husband, even screwing her a few times over the weekend; although I didn't get near her cunt with my mouth, no way was that ever happening again after some other guy's cock has been in there.
Every morning I checked her calendar; Tuesday morning proved to be the day. There was a note between noon and two, "work thru lunch." After breakfast I drove to my office and did my best to get something done. On the way to work I picked up a drop phone from Walmart. At 11:00 am I forwarded my regular phone to my new drop phone and left the regular phone on my desk. If Debbie checked the tracking app she installed on my phone, it would show me sitting twenty miles away from her office. If she called me, I could answer on the drop phone.
I got downtown with fifteen minutes to spare and settled in at the Starbucks across from her office building. Right at noon she walked out of the front doors with a man - damn, he did look like Ryan Gosling. I left the Starbucks to follow them. It may sound hokey, but following the advice from the book I was wearing a baseball cap, sunglasses and had a small stone in my right shoe to change my stride. None of this mattered because the two love birds were only paying attention to each other as they walked hand in hand one block into the lobby of the Hotel Vintage.
I figured I had almost two hours so I went across the street to the bank and started to move some money, close our mutual credit card accounts and the home equity account. Debbie and I also had credit cards in each of our own names; she wouldn't know about the closed accounts until later when it wouldn't matter.
I also called my company's law firm and got a reference for a divorce attorney. Called her office and had an appointment for the next afternoon. With a half hour to spare I was back in the hotel lobby.
I was waiting in the lobby, trying to act inconspicuous while pretending to read the Wall Street Journal but actually watching the elevator doors when the two of them came down. I stood up.
"Debbie!"
Debbie stared at me with a shocked look on her face.
"Mark, God no!"
Simon was ready to act the hero because he stepped between me and Debbie and started to say something about being careful as he put his hand out like some damn traffic cop. I guess Debbie forgot to tell him about the boxing classes I take because he didn't seem to be ready when my fist entered his gut just below his solar plexus. He went down and actually pissed his pants.
Debbie just stood there, still moving her mouth like some damn fish. Before she could get any words out of it, I told her, "Might as well keep the room for the night, because I don't want you coming home tonight and probably ever again."
Unfortunately, right after I arrived home that afternoon a squad car pulled up and when I answered the door, I was cuffed and taken down to the Multnomah County jail and booked for assault. Simon had pressed charges. I ended up spending the night in jail before I was released the next day on my own reconnaissance. When I went back home it was apparent that Debbie had been at the house because most everything small and of any value, including the watch my father left me when he died, had been removed. I checked the closet and Debbie's clothes were gone as well - good riddance. I still had time to take a shower and make it to my appointment with the attorney.
Over the next three months the following occurred, not in any particular order.
The charges against me were dropped because I was lucky that the clerk behind the registration desk told the police Simon had advanced on me and she saw him raise his hand. To her it looked like he was ready to attack me. I think she was one of those people who are happy to see any skunk screwing a married woman get his just reward. She didn't actually lie, just interpreted Simon's actions to my benefit.
I only communicated with Debbie through our attorneys; she tried the "can't we make this work?" routine. I held firm with "no" and the divorce papers went through the system. When I refused to agree to counselling Debbie went nuclear and tried to get over half our community property, alimony, etc. My post-Debbie luck was holding out because my attorney argued that even though we lived in a no-fault state that I shouldn't have to suffer the consequences of her actions. The judge was swayed.
My attorney used a unique approach; she brought up that although Debbie had the opportunity to write her own vows, she had agreed to the traditional vows which included "forsaking all others," therefore I had an expectation of fidelity. Second, we had the deposition from Debbie's coworker of the conversation in Debbie's office when she refused my invitation to lunch to have "lunch" with Simon. Third, and you could have heard a pin drop when it came up in court; Debbie's removal of my father's watch while I was in jail. The judge tried her best to keep a neutral face when she heard this testimony, but it obviously made an impact on her. Even Debbie's attorney cringed when the statement was read in court.
I got my divorce and my watch back. Debbie and I split everything we had accumulated during the marriage and she didn't receive any alimony. Debbie did ask for one more thing and it was granted. She asked for a sit down with me before the final papers were signed, sealed and delivered. What the hell, I agreed if only out of curiosity.
So we sat down at her attorney's office and she started the crap about how much she loved me, how sorry she was that she fell into Simon's trap and how she thought we were a great couple with a wonderful future.
When I had heard enough, I decided to bluff. "Debbie, tell me about the others."
Debbie blinked twice before answering, "Mark, I've absolutely never been with any other man since we've been together."
I shook my head, "Goodbye Debbie."
That must have really pissed off Debbie because three weeks later I received a CD in the mail. It's hard to believe, I always thought Debbie was a fairly intelligent woman, but the CD contained a sex tape of Debbie and Simon. It started with a fully dressed Debbie looking straight into the camera.
"Mark, this one's for you; eat your heart out."
The next scene was a naked Debbie giving Simon a very sloppy blow job. I must admit Simon did have a rather large cock, so maybe that was her reason for getting something on the side. Anyway, Debbie was always good at giving head and this was probably taped after our divorce so I decided to watch two good looking people have sex.
Debbie worked for five minutes or more trying to get the whole cock down her throat; like so many amateur pornos this one was just starting to get boring when she eased off the thing. The resolution was excellent, I could even see the string of saliva and pre-cum from the head of his cock to her lips as they repositioned on the end of the bed to sit on his lap with both of them facing the camera. Simon was obviously an active participant in the filming, but I'm guessing he didn't know she was planning to send the finished results to me even though she addressed the camera every once and a while. Some guys can't help but think with the wrong head.
Debbie's a rather slight woman, she can't weigh more than 115 pounds on a 5'8" frame and a good deal of her weight has to be in those gorgeous C cup breasts. She was sitting in Simon's lap with his cock in front of her, it reached up to her belly button.
"Now watch this."
She raised up a put the mushroom head between the lips of her cunt and started a slow descent onto his shaft. Damn - this was good stuff. Somebody is going to enjoy this show.
Once she got three-quarters of that cock stuffed inside she stopped and bit her lower lip. She raised back up and began pumping up and down. Meantime, Simon's hands were on Debbie's breasts and his fingers were pinching her nipples. Debbie is looking at the camera, her lower lip in between her teeth and it didn't take her more than a couple of minutes before she came. The orgasm was anything but subtle, her body was shaking, she rose up one last time and Simon's cock was now glistening with Debbie's cum and when Debbie collapsed the entire thing entered her. You could hear Simon on the audio grunting. Damn - this was great stuff.
It took Debbie a minute to recover and when she lifted herself off Simon's cock a shitload of their combined cum ran out of her cunt. Debbie looked at the camera and blew me a kiss.
The entire video only lasted fifteen minutes but it was one of the hottest fifteen minutes of porn I'd seen so I thought it should be shared. I opened an account on Tumblr titled "Debbie Does Simon" and posted the video on the site. The site was getting a couple hundred hits every day and a great deal of "Likes" before I took it down.
I seriously considered sending links to the site to Debbie's parents, friends and employer, but in the end I decided to de-escalate the war. I never told Debbie about the Tumblr account, but I did send her an email warning that any more such videos would find their way to her father's computer screen. Debbie actually replied with an apology and the lame explanation that she was still hurt how it all ended and was trying to make me jealous. She promised to stop.
I'm a pretty stoic guy; I'm certain most people who know me even consider me a bit cold. After the divorce and even after watching the video I didn't cry, spend a week drunk or consider eating my gun. I was sad, after all Debbie was my best friend for the six years we'd been married.
Her betrayal did remove any trust I had in other people. If you start to think people are untrustworthy, you start to see it in your everyday dealings with people. In my college psychology class I'm fairly certain they called it a self-fulfilling prophecy. Now when a bartender or sales clerk gave me change for a ten instead of my twenty, I figured they were trying to cheat me. Little things like that turned me into a cynic. My job in sales didn't help either because it's such a dog-eat-dog environment.
As for women, I went through the normal routine of chasing skirts and hanging out at bars. Kind of a lonely existence.
Until I met Becky.
A year after my divorce I met Becky at a dinner party given by some clients. Becky was beautiful; with green eyes, blond hair, a body that belonged on the cover of a Victoria's Secret catalog and best of all, the personality of a woman you're proud to take home to meet your family. Her smile and laugh could light up a room, they certainly lit me up. I did everything I could at that dinner party to be the most charming and the most interesting man in the world, I could have sold Mexican beer that evening. Now if I could only sell myself to this lady.
As we were getting ready to call it a night I approached Becky and asked if I could take her to dinner the following weekend.
"How can I say no?" she asked, "You worked so hard tonight to make me want to say yes, that effort should be rewarded."
"That obvious?"
"Yes, but I think it's cute. I also asked our hostess what she thought of you and she said you had potential, so let's go out next Friday and find out."
After two months of dating we decided to become exclusive, but didn't rush things, we kept our separate residences although we were together four or five nights a week. Every one of my friends fell in love with her. Best of all, I was starting to fall in love with Becky and felt she might be falling in love with me.
The sex started just after pledging exclusivity. A gentleman shouldn't kiss and tell, but without going into detail let me say that it was the best sex in my life up to that point. Nothing was off limits for her, as long as it was limited to what two people could do with one another.
I will share one thing and only because this is more embarrassing to me than it is to her. Becky absolutely loved getting oral sex. If you've ever seen the Japanese movie, "In the Realm of the Senses" you have some idea; there's a scene in the movie where the guy eats a hard-boiled egg out of the geisha's vagina. I never ate an egg, but we did experiment with cherries, chocolate, whipped cream and a variety of desserts.
Now the embarrassing part; one night Becky asked me to eat her after I came in her. I was hesitant, but given some of the things she did for me, thought I should at least give it a try. I swirled some bourbon in my mouth before, during and after, that might have had something to do with Becky having an incredible series of orgasms. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be because it was my own sperm, but I drew the line one night when she offered me a snowball after I came in her mouth.
In and out of bed, we had fun. Yes, I was starting to think this could be my ticket to happiness and then the bottom dropped out.
My clue that something may be wrong occurred one day when Becky and I took an early afternoon off from our respective jobs and were hanging out having a beer. Becky's phone rang, she looked at the read out and ignored the call. This wasn't like her, she usually would answer calls and tell whomever she would call them back later. After my cluelessness with Debbie, I was now more observant and suspicious. I wasn't going to play the part of the happy cuckold again.
Later that evening I had the opportunity to grab her phone and look at the call listings. At 3:30 she missed a call from someone listed on her contacts as "JR." Looking through the call log I found a few calls between the two of them. I next accessed Becky's calendar and found she was scheduled to meet a JR at 1:00 the following day. Time to find my baseball cap, sunglasses and shoe stone again.
Thursday afternoon I was in the sandwich shop across the street from Becky's office building. She walked out the building alone and headed north on Broadway before entering the Marriott. Just as I entered the lobby Becky and a man were walking up to the reception desk and talking to the front desk clerk. I could not believe my eyes. How could this be happening to me again? I was nearly sick to my stomach as I walked up to the two of them.
"You cheating, lying bitch!"
Becky turned around and looked at me. I don't think the expression on her face would have been different if I had shot her with a gun. The man she was with looked at me and asked, "Who is this?"
Before Becky could answer his question a second man approached wearing a Marriott name badge. He stared, confused, at the three of us, but before anyone could say another word, Becky ran out of the lobby. Things were happening too fast, but I read the name badge of the second man. "Greg Huston, Catering Manager" and then looked back at the first man.
The first man broke the silence, "I understand, you're Mark. I'm Jon Riley, the person Becky hired to coordinate your surprise 30th birthday party here at the Marriott. I think you just really fucked it all up."
Becky never returned my calls after that day. A week later I woke up and found a box of the things I left at her apartment on the stoop in front of my townhouse. There was a note inside that simply read, "I don't want anything I left in your home, give it all to charity. Becky"
For the next six months I went into a funk. I ate, slept and went to work. One afternoon I decided to go out and attend Portland's annual craft beer festival on the riverfront. Just my luck to run into Becky there, she was with a guy and they were obviously a couple. After introducing us Becky asked him if she could have a word with me. To his credit her boyfriend said yes.
"Mark, sorry I never talked to you again, but at the time I was so hurt and so angry. I called my mother that night and she told me you were damaged goods and to run for my life. I listened to my mother's advice and left you alone."
"Becky, I wish I could get mad at you for how it ended, but unfortunately I think your mother's right. I am more damaged by Debbie's betrayal than I imagined. I'm sorry I called you names in that hotel lobby, you didn't deserve that and I was an ass."
"Mark, get help. You're too good a person to live the rest of your life alone because one person broke your trust. Find someone who can help you, whether it's a counsellor or priest or whomever. I'm sorry I wasn't the person to make you whole again, we almost had something."
"Thanks for the advice, I think you're right, I need to get my act together. Thank your boyfriend for giving us the opportunity to speak. You deserve a guy that trusts you enough to do that. Say hello to your mom for me and tell her what I said. She raised a beautiful woman and her instincts were correct."
We walked away from each other and I saw moisture in her eyes, I had to turn around quickly before she saw my tears.
So where do you go when you need to resynch and get your life back on track? Where I should have gone when my marriage fell apart. I took three weeks of vacation and headed home to Chicago. Time to play the prodigal son.
Mom still lived in the house we grew up in on the north side of the city. I was the only one of her children to move out of the area, so she wasn't lonely; my older sister had two kids and my younger brother had three, I used to tease him that his wife was a regular baby machine, three kids before his 30th birthday. With five grandkids nearby mom stayed busy, but I knew she missed having me around; although I can't imagine why since she always claimed I was the reason for her gray hair.
The second day in town mom invited my siblings and their families for a big sit down feast. She served my favorite meal, her homemade lasagna and my favorite dessert, her chocolate cheese cake. Like I said, prodigal son stuff. I played the long lost uncle and gave each of my nieces and nephews some expensive electronic gift that most of them were too young to use. You could see their parents' eyes rolling at my stupidity, but I think they appreciated the sentiment.
After everyone left mom and I did the dishes together and had a chance to chat. Mom wasn't one to dispense advice, that was always dad's job, but mom always knew what to do.
"Your buddy Hank Taylor still stops by from time to time. He asks how you are. When's the last time you two talked?"
"Not as often as we should and before you say it - yes, it's probably my fault we don't communicate more often."
"Give him a call."
Hank was my best friend from the time we met in kindergarten until the time I left for college. From K-12 we were inseparable, in little league he was the pitcher and I was the catcher, for six years of football, he was the quarterback and I was his wide receiver.
I quit baseball our freshman year since I was at best a mediocre hitter and the track coach noticed during PE class my aptitude for the pole vault and high jump. I quit football after our junior year because my father was concerned I'd get hurt and ruin my chances at a college track scholarship. I was one of the top high school pole vaulters in the nation as a junior and the University of Oregon was set to recruit me.
My father's decision to keep me out of football had a negative effect on Hank's life. Our football team just missed going to state our junior year. Much of our success was due to the Taylor-Miller combination; I was Hank's #1 target. His senior year was a bust, most of the receivers had glass hands and his statistics weren't good enough to get a college football scholarship, his first love. He did get a baseball scholarship to Southern Illinois and did well for himself. Hank knew my father and his influence on my decision, he never held it against me that I had dropped out of football.
I ended up at UO and was on the fast track to the Olympics when a freak accident ended my pole vaulting career. During warm ups at the NCAA finals my pole snapped in two, a one in a million occurrence. I fell at an awkward angle and shattered my knee so bad it took two years of therapy to get back to 90%. By that time the Olympics were over and I had my Bachelor's degree. I also had a quarter million in the bank after the pole manufacturer settled. (In case you're wondering, Debbie couldn't touch the quarter mil, dad had insisted on a pre-nup.)
With me at Oregon and Hank at SIU we started to drift apart. I was one of his groomsman when he married Janice and was last back home after Janice gave birth to their second son. It was now just over two years since I last saw Hank and if he was pissed at my negligence he didn't show it. Within thirty minutes of my call to his house we were sitting in his back yard having a beer.
First I caught up on what was happening in Hank's life: his job (Chicago firefighter), his wife (Janice) and his two boys (Mark and Hank). Then it was my turn. Hank heard about my divorce from mom, but she hadn't shared any particulars. He was less surprised by these events than I anticipated; he was surprised when I told him how my relationship with Becky ended and how I was having trust issues.
"Since Debbie's cheating I've had a hard time trusting anyone. It just seems everyone is out for themselves."
Hank stared at me before responding. "That's because for the last twelve years you've been hanging out with all the wrong people.
"Let me tell you a story you don't know. For all three years you and Ginny dated throughout high school I was in love with Ginny. Yea, I can see by the look on your face you didn't have a clue; and that's the way it should be. A friend never messes with a friend's lady, no matter what. Remember that trip to my uncle's lodge up in Door County? You had to work on Friday and so did the girl I was going with at the time, Stacy.
"Ginny and I went up to the lodge Friday morning to get things ready, you and Stacy were coming up Friday night after work. Your car broke down and you didn't get up there until late Saturday afternoon.
"So Ginny and I are going to be by ourselves all night because we get your call that you're stuck in Milwaukee, we're drinking some cheap wine, Ginny is still wearing one of her bikinis from the swim in the lake, and to top it off the power goes out at the cabin so now we're sitting by candlelight.
"And you want to know what happened that night between Ginny and me? Nothing! Because a friend never crosses that line. And if I wasn't a friend and I tried to make a move on Ginny, you know what would have happened? Nothing! Because Ginny was the kind of girlfriend that would never cheat on her man.
"You went to Oregon and left the people you could count on to follow your Olympic dream. That's OK, but you shouldn't have replaced your friends with self-centered grabbers out for themselves.
"I feel sorry for you Mark."
It took me a few moments to register what Hank had said. Then I thought about Ginny.
"Do you have any idea where Ginny is or what's she's up to? I haven't seen her since the first Christmas when I came home during my freshman year at Oregon. We pretty much broke up that week. One more long distance romance bites the dust. It didn't help I pledged Delta and the sorority girls were easy."
"Ginny was here a couple months ago; she's a widow now with a five-year-old son."
"A widow? What happened?"
"Her husband's last tour in Afghanistan. He got shot up, she didn't go into details but I understand he won some important medals for bravery, posthumously unfortunately. Ginny's trying to hang in there for the sake of their son, but you can tell she's barely keeping it together. She's still living down in San Diego County near the base and his fellow officers keep an eye on her. She'd probably enjoy hearing from you if you'd like her email."
"Is she still hot? Did anything happen between you two while she was in town?" I glanced over my shoulder when I asked this to make certain Janice couldn't overhear our conversation, but the storm door was closed.
"You haven't been listening Mark. What the fuck happened to you? For one thing, I would never cheat on Janice. For another, Ginny would never have sex with a married man. It's just not who either of us are. You need to get your head out of your ass."
Only Hank Taylor could talk to me that way.
That evening I sent an email to Ginny.
"Ginny
Hank Taylor gave me your email address, I hope it's not inappropriate for me to contact you but I will be in the San Diego area this weekend and wondered if I could take you and your son to lunch or dinner either Friday or Saturday. Just to catch up.
Warm regards,
Mark"
Early Tuesday morning I received a pleasant surprise reply to my email.
"Mark
How nice to hear from you after all these years; lunch on Friday will work for me and my son Kevin. My address is xxxx.
I'll expect you at noon unless I hear differently from you.
Your friend,
Ginny"
Hank was on duty starting Tuesday, which meant he'd be in the fire station until I was scheduled to leave town. But he invited me to tour the station and have a meal with his crew. I took him up on the offer and later that day was sitting at a table with a cast of characters. Black, White, Hispanic, men and women; it's still hard for me to explain the feelings I was getting as I sat between two of Hank's fellow firefighters. They were both open to answering my questions; they were probably used to civilians in awe of what they considered routine. What became apparent is the necessity of trust required to perform their tasks while fighting a fire. The only way each firefighter dared to enter a burning building was with the knowledge that their teammates would watch each other's back and do their job.
It's probably then that I began to realize when my life started to go off its rails. Back in high school I replaced baseball and football, two team sports with individual events in track and field. Although the overall score for the track team was dependent on others, my contribution was solely based upon my efforts alone. Even my chosen profession, sales, was similar to this. Whether I made a sale or not was dependent almost entirely upon my efforts. The only team effort I could point to since l turned fifteen was my marriage to Debbie. Could my failed marriage be partially blamed by my selfishness, or the fact that I married a woman with traits of selfishness similar to my own?
Semper fidelis
Thursday I flew into San Diego, rented a car and checked into the Coronado. Friday I drove north to Ginny's home; one of four units of a quad townhome. I rang the bell and waited, trying to hide the bouquet of flowers from the sight of a nosey neighbor.
I almost dropped the flowers when the door opened. My god; Ginny was more beautiful than she was when she was nineteen. She was dressed in a bright blue sundress and there was a small boy wrapped around one of her legs.
"Mark, welcome." She put her hands behind my head and kissed me on the cheek. "Are those for me?" she said pointing to the flowers.
It was a silly question but I think she was trying to get me to say something because I was still just standing there frozen. I answered by handing her the bouquet.
"Thanks Mark; come in please while I put these in water."
"Mark, this is my son Kevin. Kevin, this is Mr. Miller, an old friend I went to school with before I met your daddy."
Kevin put his tiny hand out and said, "Hello, Mr. Miller."
I finally found my voice and said, "Hello Kevin" while shaking his hand.
While Ginny was putting the flowers in a vase I looked around the apartment. The first thing that caught my attention was the folded flag in the center of the bookcase. On one side of the flag was a photo of a Marine; attached to the frame were two medals, the Purple Heart and the Navy Cross.
"That's my dad."
I looked at the photo on the other side of the flag. Ginny with her husband and an infant Kevin at the beach. Just then Ginny walked into the room.
"Ginny, I'm sorry if this doesn't come out right, but this is a beautiful photo, you three look very much in love. You must miss him."
"No need to apologize, that's a nice thing to say and yes, we were madly in love. I met him at Northwestern, he was in the ROTC program while I was studying journalism. My classmates questioned why I would fall in love with a military man, most of my classmates had little regard for the military. But besides being a strong confident man, Chuck was the kind of man you could put your trust in, he had a heart of gold."
There's that word again - trust. Ginny's eyes were tearing slightly while she stared at the photo, so I broke the silence.
"Are you still up for lunch?"
"Yes, we need to get caught up. C'mon Kevin, Mr. Miller is taking us out to the Red Robin."
Kevin was pretty excited about that and we hopped into Ginny's car rather than move the car seat to my rental. The conversation was more upbeat during the drive and by the time we entered the restaurant the three of us were laughing at some silly joke Kevin told us.
Lunch was wonderful; although Ginny had gone through so many life changes since we last spoke: marriage, child, widow; she was still the same - kind, smart, funny and charming. At one point Ginny asked me why I was in San Diego. I was embarrassed, but decided to tell the truth.
"I told you about the scolding both my mom and Hank gave me. So the truth is, I came here to apologize to you for how I ended things back then. You deserved better and quite honestly, listening to you tell me about your marriage to Chuck, you did much better."
"What are you going to do now? Are you heading back to Portland?"
"My flight's not until Sunday evening. I think I'll spend the next couple days on the beach running some and trying to get my head straight. I have a lot to think about."
Kevin relieved his boredom by coloring with the crayons the restaurant gives the kids as the two adults got caught up. But we were pressing it after two hours so we drove back to Ginny's.
"Mark, would you like to attend a barbeque at my friends' house tomorrow?
"What, and miss a day by myself contemplating my navel? You're asking a lot."
Ginny laughed. "Well, if you change your mind and decide to go with us to the barbeque, pick me up at eleven tomorrow. Dress casual, shorts and a polo shirt. Oh yea - bring some beer."
I told Ginny I'd see her then, gave her a kiss on the cheek and shook Kevin's hand. As I drove back to my hotel all the reasons why I loved Ginny for those three years in high school came flooding back to me.
The next day Ginny, Kevin and I went to the picnic. Ginny was wearing a pair of white cutoffs and some kind of bra-top t-shirt. The shorts weren't too short for a family picnic, but they did show how toned she kept her athletic legs. The top just hinted at cleavage, sexy but understated. She wore her blonde hair in a ponytail. Aviator sunglasses hid her brown eyes.
After we parked the car Ginny took my hand to introduce me to her friends. As we approached a small group of men, apparently all Marines, I could feel their eyes inspecting me, I had the feeling this picnic was partially a test to see if I was good enough to date Ginny. The introductions were made and Ginny left me to make certain Kevin was situated with the other children; at least that's the reason she gave me.
I addressed the group, "I hope it's not a cliché, but thank you for your service."
Captain John Clayton answered for the group. "Whether it's a cliché or not, it's always welcome to hear. My father served in Vietnam and I can see the pleasure in his eyes whenever we're out together, I'm in uniform, and someone thanks me. Far different from his experience after returning from Nam."
From there the conversation turned to more pleasant topics; including the manly icebreaker - sports. The day passed quickly; I would spend a little time with Ginny, some time with the men and even spent an hour in the kitchen with the ladies swapping cooking tips. At the end of the day I was invited to join the men at a local tavern after I brought Ginny home.
Kevin was asleep in his car seat.
"Well, did I pass?"
"I think so. But I'll probably get a call from Doreen after you leave for the tavern. Then I'll get another call tomorrow after the men report back to their wives tonight. I hope you don't mind too much; they are a tight group that take care of their own. I'll always be a part of them because of Chuck, he and John Clayton were very close in Afghanistan."
I held my breath and decided to ask the question that was swirling through my brain. "So the fact that I'm being vetted means you want to continue seeing me?"
"Yes Mark. We've both changed since high school, but there's still something in my heart for you. If you want to keep seeing me, I'd like that very much."
"I'd like that too Ginny. Let the vetting begin." We laughed and I remembered how much I used to enjoy the sound of her laughter.
"It will probably be late when I leave the bar. Can we see each other tomorrow, that is if I passed the tests?"
Ginny laughed again. "I usually go to mass at ten. You can join me for mass or come over afterwards." She looked in my eyes, "When's the last time you were at mass Mark?"
"Besides funerals and weddings? It's been at least ten years. I slowly left the church when I moved to Oregon; I didn't stop believing, just stopped going to church."
We were pulling up to her house. I carefully pulled Kevin from his car seat and carried him to his bed. I turned to see Ginny at the doorway, looking at us with a smile on her face. I walked over to her, gave her a hug and a kiss; she kissed me back.
"See you tomorrow, I'll be here at nine-thirty. Wish me luck."
I entered the bar and was greeted by five men, including John Clayton.
"What'ya have Mark?"
I quickly looked at the taps, "A Stone would be nice."
"Rodriguez, one Stone for our friend."
The bartender poured my pint and the six of us grabbed a table.
John was obviously the leader here, so he started it rolling. "Mark, we're not trying to give you a hard time, but you have to understand, three of us at this table, including me, and Roddy, the bartender, all owe our lives to Chuck Turner. Did Ginny tell you anything about that?"
"No, I saw the Navy Cross, so I knew it had to be something special, but I didn't want to intrude so I kept quiet."
"Good for you, shows respect. I'll tell you though. We were on patrol in the mountains near Pakistan when we were ambushed by forty or so Taliban. We couldn't call in an airstrike because it would have caused an avalanche. We couldn't retreat because they would have held the high ground and picked us off. Chuck ordered us to flank them while he and Rodriguez stayed in position to draw them closer. It took us three hours in that rugged terrain to move behind the Taliban. For three hours Chuck and Roddy kept them occupied.
"We succeeded in the flanking and with the high ground we were able to wipe them out. But, by the time we reached Chuck and Roddy, both had been hit. Chuck had four wounds and he was still fighting. He died in my arms. Roddy was unconscious with head and leg wounds. Roddy has a prosthetic leg and that's why he's a bartender instead of on active duty.
"So that's why Ginny is our responsibility. At least until someone comes along and removes the responsibility from us. Someone worthy."
"I understand John. Let me answer you this way. Ask Ginny if I ever did anything during the three years we were together that was disrespectful. My worse sin was ever letting her go, but I think that worked out better for her because she met Chuck and had their son. I didn't have the maturity back then to be a good husband or father.
"I've never touched a woman in anger, even when I caught my first wife with another man. I may not have what you have, the guts to charge men shooting back at you, but I'm not a coward either. I wouldn't back down if it meant protecting the person I love from harm.
"I recently figured out I'm a bit self-centered, but I'll be working on that. So, now that I know how things stand, let me ask you all." I stopped to look around the table. "Do I have your permission to continue seeing Ginny?"
People may think this was a little overboard, asking permission to date an adult, but I saw it as a way to show respect for their obvious caretaking of a comrade's widow. I wasn't being a phony, but I am a good salesman because I know how to read people pretty well. And it was the right thing to ask because the answer was a broad smile from John and the others.
"Roddy, can you bring us a round of the good stuff? Make it the Knob Creek."
Rodriguez brought seven shot glasses half filled with the amber liquid. John held up his glass for a toast. "To Captain Chuck Turner" Rodriguez joined us and we all touched glasses and drank.
We stayed for another couple hours, drank slow to avoid a DUI, but covered a variety of topics. At one point I was told why Ginny wasn't currently dating anyone. John gave me the lowdown.
"Ginny and another Marine were starting to get serious last year. The trouble was, Ginny couldn't get serious with another Marine, not after losing her first husband. And Tom lived his whole life wanting to be a Marine. Tom told Ginny that he would quit the Marines and Ginny told Tom that if he did she would never talk to him again. Tom transferred to Lejeune right after that, Ginny hasn't been serious since then until she received your email. Doreen said she called that day fairly excited about your visit. Don't tell I said anything."
"Won't say a thing, but thanks for sharing."
The next day began my romancing of Ginny. I racked up serious Alaska Air frequent flier miles flying between Portland and San Diego; every other weekend spent with Ginny and Kevin. The hotel rooms were getting expensive on top of the airfare and Ginny wasn't ready for us to consummate the relationship, John and Doreen were kind enough to put me up in their guest room.
At home I did my best to work on my interpersonal skills; even my boss noticed a difference in my behavior. I joined the company softball team, in San Diego I played doubles tennis at the base courts, Ginny was my partner and we did pretty good for new partners.
It was my fifth trip down to San Diego, three months since my first visit, I stepped out of the terminal and into Ginny's car; when I looked back, Kevin's car seat was empty. "Where's Kevin?"
"Doreen and John have him this weekend. I have a surprise for you; I hope you like it." was Ginny's reply as she pulled from the curb, left the airport and drove north on I-5.
Ginny wouldn't tell me any more regarding our destination so we caught up on other things. She told me Kevin was disappointed he wouldn't see me until Sunday; he was really growing attached to me. I could tell that pleased Ginny just by the tone of her voice. As we drove I took the time to notice Ginny was wearing the same blue sundress she wore for our first lunch, but this time she didn't have a bra under the dress.
We pulled into the La Jolla Beach & Tennis Resort. She gave me a big smile. "I think it's time, don't you?" My answer to her question was a broad shit-eating grin. As soon as she parked the car I grabbed her and gave her a kiss.
"You know I've fallen in love with you again, don't you Mark?"
"Well thank god, because I was hoping you would ever since that first weekend. I love you Ginny."
What a weekend! Ginny and I ordered room service and made love all Friday night. It's funny, we had sex two of the three years when we were dating in high school, so you have some expectations of what's it's going to be like. But the intervening years taught both of us some things - thank goodness - because what we did that night was nothing like the fumbling awkwardness of those two teenagers over twelve years ago. Let me just say that by the time I passed out after 2:00 am that there was a giant smile on my face.
We played tennis Saturday afternoon and made love Saturday night. Sunday morning she surprised the hell out of me by taking us to the nude beach below the cliffs at Torrey Pines. Ginny kept her bikini bottoms on, but did remove her top. I got brave and removed my trunks for a half hour before worrying about sun burn and putting them back on.
"How did you know about this beach? Don't tell me you've done this before."
"Don't say anything, but Doreen and John come down here once and a while. Doreen told me and swore me to secrecy. Now you're sworn in, too."
We people-watched for a bit and even thought about joining the volleyball game, but decided maybe next time. I thought playing volleyball with a group of naked co-eds would be an excellent way to improve my interpersonal, team-building skills.
It was early afternoon and time to pick up Kevin, so we headed back up the cliffs and over to the Clayton's home. John greeted me with a big handshake and a bottle of beer, Doreen gave me a hug and a big smile, Kevin wrapped his arms around my legs. We had dinner with the Claytons, the entire evening Kevin spent by my side. He seemed sad when Ginny dropped me off at the airport. On the flight home I made a decision.
Two weeks later we were back at the Clayton's for Friday evening drinks. When John and I were alone I filled him in. "I'm going to ask Ginny to marry me; unless you have a reason I shouldn't."
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't. She madly in love with you and I can't think of a nicer guy or anything that could make her any happier. Does this mean she'll be moving to Portland?"
If she says 'yes' and if she agrees I'm working on getting us back to the Chicagoland area. She misses her folks and siblings."
"That's great Mark. I know she's talked about her family with Doreen. How are you going to handle this with Kevin?"
"I'm going to take him to lunch tomorrow and have a chat. Keep your fingers crossed for me."
"You may be surprised by his response; that kid likes you."
The next day Ginny looked at me funny when I told her Kevin and I had to run some errands together, but I got away with it by excusing it as guy bonding time. We headed straight to Red Robin and grabbed a table. Over two milkshakes I popped the question.
"Kevin, what would you say if I asked your mother to marry me, would that be OK?" I held my breath waiting for his answer.
"That would be nice Mr. Miller. My mom really likes you."
"And you Kevin; do you like me enough for me to live with your mom and you?"
"Yea. Does this make you my dad?"
"Kinda. Nobody could take the place of your real dad. What did you call him?"
"I called him 'dad'."
"Then how about if your mom and I get married that you call me 'pop'? Would that be OK?"
Kevin had a nice sweet smile on his face and answered with a short, "Sure." We headed back to his house. Two down, one to go.
I figured Kevin would have a hard time keeping our conversation a secret; as soon as we walked in the door I had the ring in my hand, Kevin carried a bouquet of red roses. Ginny smiled when she saw the roses, then looked confused when I dropped to my knees.
"Ginny, will you marry me?" Not very original, but straight to the point.
Ginny dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around me.
"Yes, I love you Mark." That's all I needed to hear. Kevin wrapped his arms around us. Unfortunately, he forgot to drop the roses first and the thorns scratched my neck. Fortunately, that was probably the worst thing that happened in our years together.
Epilogue
I won't draw it out. My life with Ginny is blessed in so many ways. We married three months after I proposed. By then I found a great sales job for a start-up north of Chicago; close enough to our families and our old friends. Kevin now has a brother and a sister; they all call me 'pop' since that's what Kevin calls me. Ginny still looks amazing after three kids, we still play doubles tennis and please don't tell anyone, but we learned to play volleyball and get a game in down at Black's Beach whenever we visit the Claytons.
Last May our family met the Clayton clan in Washington DC. We did the usual tours and on Memorial Day we visited Chuck's gravesite at Arlington to pay our respects. It was ten years since Captain Turner was taken from his wife and son; it was a sad, somber and proud day. I was glad John and Doreen were there to help me comfort Kevin and Ginny. It took a full day for any smiles to return and for days afterwards you could see the hurt from time to time. But it was the right thing to do; to pay our respects to any person - whether in the military, police or fire department - that voluntarily lives his or her life knowing someday they may be required to sacrifice everything in performance of their duties. We returned from our trip and it took a few weeks, but things returned to normal; even with Captain Charles Turner's flag, medals and photo on the bookcase. It's humbling for me that Ginny and Kevin allowed me in their lives after having such a brave man as their husband and father.
As for me, well I'm glad I opened my eyes and ears to learn what trust is really all about. Even Hank stopped threatening to kick my sorry butt. Although he still gets mad at me any time I miss the cut off man during our softball league games. My excuse is I'm distracted by the beautiful blonde with the three cheering kids in the stands. My life is good.