Mature

Keywords: Different, A, Divorce,

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Life is but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

MacBeth, act V, scene V.

"Yes, it is I. Back from the long period of helping family members, looking for stories to write and fighting my worse ever case of Writer's Block. This story is different but I like the way it sounded when it occurred to me. There is no sex in the story just a man trying very hard to raise his children. I post under Loving Wives because I like the comments and there is always a wife in every story somewhere.

The editor for this story is Techsan, always teaching, always tactful, and often ignored. I add material after he has worked his magic. All errors are mine. "

*****

It was a bitch of a day. I had a fever and my stomach was threatening to erupt. I stayed at work until 5 PM but I did not accomplish a damn thing. The drive home was scary and I was very glad to see the driveway to my house. I parked in middle of the drive. I did not want to open the garage. I crept into the house. Ellen was sitting at the kitchen table. My head was throbbing and I wanted to vomit. I sat and tried to look at her with eyes that just would not focus. I knew I was sick but I suddenly got sicker.

"I want a divorce."

I am Rok, she is Ellen. I am 37, she is 35, and we have been married for 13 years.

I tried to stare at her, but she was a blur. My mind simply stopped working. Not mad, not hurt. Shock. What did she say? Something about her wanting something. I could see her lips forming words but I did not hear them. Something about James, who was James? She seemed so far away, like I was on one side of a chasm and she on the other. Yet I could almost see her face not more than four feet away.

"James will let me move in with him until the divorce is final."

Move? Who is James? I am not hearing this. I will wake up and find that I am dreaming. Is this a nightmare? Will I wake up?

"The children will be fine. James has a large house with a huge yard and a very nice pool."

The children. The children, Amanda at twelve was the spitting image of her mother. I remember when she was born; it was raining as I drove the car in the darkness to Mumfort Jones Hospital. We both expected a long labor, since it was Ellen's first baby, but the labor was less than 90 minutes and I was tying off and cutting the cord that would forever physically separate mother and daughter. I could see the tiny life as she lay on her mother's abdomen. It was even clearer as if I was back there in the delivery room again.

The children. The children. Matthew at age ten trying to catch the football as he ran as fast as he could across the backyard. He favored my father. He already had good hands, he could catch most of the passes I threw at him or near him for that matter. Matthew at ten was a beautiful child. Already tall for his age and physically strong. He loved sports and he loved his mother. He too was a straight A student.

The children loved their mother. Who is James? Move where? Huge yard? Nice pool? What was Ellen saying to me?

"Rok, listen to me. I want a divorce. I want to live with James. Do you understand me?"

Understand? What? She wanted a divorce? Why? Who is James? She has been unfaithful?

Finally I spoke, "I… Ellen…" I faded out.

"Rok, here, drink this."

There was a glass in her hand. Where did it come from? When did she move to get a glass? What was in the glass? I lifted the drink; it smelled of cognac, it tasted of burned potatoes. It tried to flee from my mouth but I managed to get it down. Why was she giving me cognac that costs $100 a bottle? James WHO? My eyes shut.

She was washing my face with a cloth. The dampness felt good and cooling but my mind was slow to clear. I recognized a rising anger that made my stomach bile rise even harder in my throat. She wanted a divorce so she could be with James. Ellen, my wife of 13 years, wanted to live with another man, James. James Fowler, her boss in the Toyota plant. She was his personal assistant. He had a huge yard. I had been there at a Fourth of July Party. It was a huge yard for a man with children or a wife. But James had no wife and no children. He lived with his mother. I rested my head on the table. Everything became very quiet.

I woke up in our bedroom, in the bed where both of the children were conceived. I had no idea how I got there but Ellen's side had not been disturbed. The sun was blinding me but it did not really register. I had my own burning rage. I tried to sit up. I was naked. When did I get undressed? My fever was still blazing and I could not see well. I faded back into the world of sleep.

There was a voice, "Are you ready to get out of bed and clean up for breakfast?"

I looked for a face. Della was looking at me with concern on her face. Della, the housekeeper, cook, babysitter, and general all round best helper in the world. I paid her extremely well.

"Della, I was so sick. What day is this?"

"Saturday. I called your office on Thursday morning and told them you were sick. The fever broke late yesterday afternoon."

"I feel much better. Where are the children, Della?"

This seemed to ease her troubled look, "They are with your mother. They left this morning at seven for the museums and the zoo in Jackson. They will spend the night and return late tomorrow, that will be Sunday." I think she was trying to keep me up to date on the days of the week.

I remembered some of what I thought Ellen had told me, "Where is she?"

"At the country club, she and Joyce will play 18 holes with a couple of pick ups. She will have lunch at the Club and will be home after lunch."

"How long, Della, how long?"

Della was a black woman that had applied for the open position in our house just after Amanda was born. Limited education but unlimited love for the children. Chesty had recommended her and she was a perfect fit for the four of us, Ellen, me, Amanda and later Matthew. She was close to forty years of age. I had no idea how close. She worked for us for almost 12 years. She was there for the children. They loved her, I respected her.

(Chesty has a story on this site called "A Lucky Man" by H20wader. Look it up it is a fine read. He told me to write this and post it.)

"It is her place to tell you that. She will be back after lunch. You and her can talk about what as been going on when she gets here."

The rage boiled up again. Della had just told me that James and Ellen had a history, most likely a long history. I also knew that Della would not say more about Ellen.

"Della, I do not remember that much about Wednesday after I got home. How did I get naked and into the bed?"

"We helped you, Ms. Ellen and me. You were not really able to do much. You were in and out mostly out. I had my brother, Paul, come over and he got you to the bathroom whenever you asked. When he was not here, Ms. Ellen or I helped you. You could not walk that good, but once you were in the bathroom, you were fine. Mr. Kilgore, no one had to help you once you were in the bathroom, we just help you to get to the bathroom. Now then, you get up, clean up and come down. Breakfast will be ready when you are." Se turned to leave the room. "Be cool, Mr. Kilgore, The Good Lord don't give people troubles that they cannot overcome or accept."

I was angry but that anger was not a weapon to point at Della. She was not the cause of my anger. She may have covered for Ellen but that would have been her need to protect the children. I still felt very weak. The clean up took a long time. The hot shower, the shave and dressing in jeans with moccasins and a flannel shirt over a vacation T-shirt. This one had a "Swim with the Dolphins' logo from one of the Florida Keys took me 45 minutes. I was weak but steady getting back strength. Breakfast was no different from any other day except that a ate a lot of it. I drank coffee from my Grog cup, Grog as in BC in the funny papers, had lot of grits and scrambled eggs with ham and biscuits. I was very hungry and I ate a lot.

Della started talking without looking at me about half way through the eating part, "Mr. Kilgore." Why she called me Mr. Kilgore I never knew. I ordered her to call me Rok. I had yelled at her about calling me Rok. I even threatened to fire her. She just kept on referring to me as Mr. Kilgore. After the first three years, I just kinda gave up. She could call me whatever she wanted as long as it was not late for meals. But why did she call me Mr. Kilgore and my wife Ms. Ellen?

"Mr. Kilgore, you just remember that those babies are now the most important things in this family. They are the only ones who really matter. Don't you dare go hurting those babies. They did not do anything. They just innocent babies. You keep that in mind when you talk to Ms. Ellen."

"I see. After I talk to Ellen, I need to talk to you. You will stay with the babies, right?"

"I will not leave the babies until you make me. I will go where they go."

Fine, I knew I didn't know much but I was sure that Ellen had made some plans and had asked Della to go to James' house and continue her job, with a new man handing out the money. I finished the meal and slowly walked to the barn. Well, large storage area really. I hate a cluttered garage. Therefore, I had a 40' X 60' concrete pad and metal building for toys and lawn equipment. It was divided so there was a clubhouse thing of 10' X 20' for the children and any visiting friends.

There was an indoor/outdoor carpet and lots of stuff that the younger set would play with, different stuff than they had in their rooms. The play items were updated every year on the children's birthday. They had the same birthday. I know, weird but Amanda was born at 10 PM and Mathew was born at 1 AM on the 15th of May. My mother said Ellen planned it that way to avoid pregnancy during the long hot summer in central Mississippi.

Ellen would not be back from the Country Club until well after she had lunch there.

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Keywords: Different, A, Divorce,