But wait…there’s more.

The car, it held a multitude of clues. We kept our car in the garage so one might think that leaving the car windows open over night wouldn’t be any big deal. But, if you know Dick like I do then you would understand why this was such a red flag for me. He is so anal about such things. Everything is always closed up tight. In all the time we were together he never once left them open, especially over night, until now, and it happened more than once. I had to assume that he was airing out the car from the smell of cigarette smoke. I came to that conclusion because of: 1. The spots of ashes by the passenger side window, 2. The fact that the cigarette lighter in the car, which in 11 years had never been used, now had signs of obvious use, and 3. The burnt piece of cigarette paper that I found on the back seat one morning. Every morning I after he left for work, I would go into the car with a flashlight and a lint roller, you know, the ones made out of tape. What I found were long, reddish hairs with a slight curl to them…not mine. These hairs were also not from any of my friends and they certainly did not belong to Harry. Also, what appeared to be cat fur of a similar red tone. Later I was to find out that the fur was actually from her coat. Last but not least….glitter. It was on the passenger seat and on the back seat. At first I thought it was possible the glitter could have come from one of my shirts, but I hadn’t worn the only shirt I had with any glitter on it since last Christmas. Not to mention, I make it a habit of not sitting in the back seat while driving. When it showed up again and again, after I had cleaned all the seats, I knew it wasn’t mine. Then we have the moving blanket. Out of the blue there appeared a moving blanket in the trunk. It was brand new, still sealed in its plastic wrapper. “What is this for?” I asked him when I saw it. “Oh that…umm…its, aah…in case the car breaks down and I have to get down on the ground to look underneath it. That way I won’t get dirty.” Yea, sure, I thought, so that’s what they‘re calling it now?. So, I of course started keeping tabs on the blanket. Now, I don’t know what the hell it was used for and where, but it was used…for something, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what that “something“ might be. When the plastic wrapper it was originally in had been replaced by a bag, I asked him “Did the car break down?“ “Huh?…Why?“ he answered. “Well, the blanket is in a different bag, so I thought maybe you had to use it. Is there something you need to tell me?“ I said. The color drained from his face and he fidgeted nervously with his keys as he responded with “No…What?…Why?…What do you mean?” “About the car.” I said, “Is there something wrong with the car that you need to tell me?“ I could see the relief wash over him. “Oh…No…everything is fine. I, um, just put it into a bag so I wouldn’t have to fumble around in the dark trying to get it out.“ Yes, that is what he said…fumble around in the dark trying to get it out. I’m sure you can imagine what I was thinking when those words came out of his mouth, but I am trying to keep this PG rated so I will say no more. Occasionally it was obvious that the blanket had been taken out of the bag because it was put back in a different way. I would make sure that it was all the way in and the next day it would be half way out. But, the real kicker was the glitter I found on it. I opened it up a few times and inspected it with my trusty flashlight and my how it sparkled. It also had the same types of hair on it here and there. So, I guessed the blanket wasn’t the only thing he was fumbling around in the dark with.

CLUES FROM THE CLULESS

Its amazing how much evidence Dick left in his wake. I suppose if it hadn’t been for the fact that I was actually looking for clues, I might not have noticed all the little tell tale signs. But even before I knew he was cheating there were things that I noticed that were different. Most if them were just simple little things, subtle differences that made me pause for just a moment. Things like his underwear. Yes, that’s correct, his underwear made me suspect something was up. Dick had been “a tighty-whitey” guy since he was out of training pants. Now, suddenly he was wearing boxer-briefs, in black and charcoal gray, and he only wore them when he went out…never to work during the day. He seemed to be clothes shopping a lot too. Dick does not shop. But now he seemed to come home with a new shirt quite often. He would even use “going to the mall” as a reason for going out. Once I said I would go with him because I didn’t feel like sitting at home all night. Guess what…he didn’t go. He farted around for a while and then landed on the couch, deciding that he was too tired. Something else that was not the norm for Dick…he was now carrying two cell phones. Dick didn’t really like carrying one. It was a necessary evil, so he did. Now he also had a cell phone from work with him 24-7. I often saw him talking on it outside, but never in my presence. That phone was always kept out of sight. I could see it in his pocket, but he never left it out anywhere, until one night. He had come home, not six, but more like twelve sheets to the wind and passed out on the bed. I went downstairs to get my nightgowns out of the dryer and there on the workbench sat the other cell phone. He apparently didn’t realize he had left it there when he went up to bed. The call log showed 2 calls that afternoon to the same cell phone number I found on our bill that the Intellus report listed “owner Charlot” . He also had it programmed in his contacts as Charlie. There were lots of calls to and from Charlie, many of them late in the evening into the A.M. hours, so I knew this Charlie had nothing to do with work. As far as I knew, he didn’t know anyone named Charlie. The more I think of it now he was practically leaving me a trail of bread crumbs. That trail had many more twists and turns, but it eventually led me to the truth.

Love is a Many Splendor Thing

I have been thinking about all the negative things I've said about Dick. You're probably wondering why I married him, and stayed married so long. It's simple, I was in love. I loved him, and I trusted him. I felt safe with him. In the beginning the drinking was not a problem. Sometimes when he drank it was a problem, but that was only on the weekends at a party or social gathering. It wasn't an everyday occurrence. Normal everyday life did not include me shuttering with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach at the sound of a beer can being popped open. He used to call it a happy sound. I hated hearing it. It wasn't until the last year or so that he was drinking almost everyday, and many times way passed the point of just 'gettin' a buzz on'. It is truly amazing the things you are able to overlook when you love someone. You keep hoping that it will get better, but it doesn't. You keep telling yourself that you are going to speak up and lay down the law, but you don't. Why? Because sometimes it's just easier to ride out the storm. You know it will pass and the sun will shine again. After a bad session with him, the next day it would be like it never happened. I was never really sure if he was just ignoring the elephant in the room, or if he suffered from black outs and really didn't remember. At that point things were calm and because I so didn't want to churn up the storm I wouldn't say anything. I, like him, would act like everything was fine. It took me a long time to be able to say the word 'alcoholic'. In my book that was the reason for a lot our difficulties. It was the catalyst for all the mistakes and bad decisions he made. The problem I had with doing something about it was...guilt. I couldn't leave him because he was an alcoholic. They say alcoholism is a disease. To me, leaving because of that would be like abandoning a sick child because you're too tired to care for it anymore. If he had cancer, or some other disease, I wouldn't leave him, so how could leave because he drank too much? I couldn't. But, when I discovered he was having an affair that guilt melted away in seconds, and I was free. It took me another 7 months to finally pack up and leave partly because I was willing to give him a second chance and also because I needed to gather more information about what he was up to exactly. There was a small part of me that thought we might be able to find our way back, but mostly I knew it was over, I just had to be sure. The bottom line was, I didn't trust him anymore. It didn't matter what else I felt for him. If there wasn't trust, there was nothing.

People Let Me Tell Ya 'bout my Best Friend

Dick has a friend named Harry. You have heard me mention him earlier on. He is his best friend from way back. Harry walks on water you know, and knows everything there is to know about...well...everything. Just ask him. Harry also like to have his way. When they go out, they always go where Harry wants to go even if Dick doesn't particularly care for the place. When Harry has a project he needs help with...like putting in an air conditioner, ripping out cabinets or moving to a third floor apartment with no elevator, all he has to do is snap his fingers and Dick comes running. He also gets him to help shovel snow to clear walkways at various properties he owns because he is too cheap to pay someone to do it. Its not that he can't afford to pay people, because he can. Harry has money...lots of it...unfortunately its all tied up in real estate. But why pay someone to do all these things when Dick will do it for nothing. Basically, Dick is Harry's bitch. He's like a loyal little dog. What ever Harry tells Dick he should do, Dick does. For instance, Harry had always told him that if he had been drinking and got a flat to just leave the car. If he tried to change it and the police stopped to help, he could get arrested for drunk driving. Harry knew this because he is member of the auxiliary police in one of the surrounding towns. He said the best thing to do was to walk away from the car. Which was not a problem for Dick. Over the years he had a habit of walking home from bars at all hours of the night. Once his friends accidentally left him at some dive in the city. He didn’t have a cell phone at the time or enough change for the pay phone. He had only one quarter and it cost more than that to call our house from in town. So, he started walking. Every time he came across a pay phone he would try to call, but until he reached one close enough to be able to use his quarter, he had to keep walking. The good thing was that by the time he was able to afford the call home, he had sobered up and I didn’t have to deal with a drunk Dick when I went to pick him up. Usually that was the case. I would get a call at 1 or 2am from him, slobbering drunk, telling me that he was walking home because he and Harry had a fight, or Harry wasn’t ready to leave and he wanted to go home. He would never ask me to come pick him up, he would just tell me he was walking. I always wanted to say, “That’s nice dear, see you in the morning.” and hang up. But, if course I never did. I wouldn’t do that because in spite of all his faults, I loved him and he loved me. He needed me, so instead of leaving him to wander the streets alone in the middle of the night, I would get dressed, get in the car and go fetch him, which is what I did once again that night. When he got in the car that night I asked a question that had been on my mind since he called…“Why didn’t you take a cab?” “Huh?” he said. “You know, a taxi?” He answered me with that condescending tone in his voice that would make me want to bitch slap him…”Ah…I didn’t have enough cash on me.” That’s what he said, but I knew he was additionally thinking…”stupid”. So I said, “You could have paid when you got to the house.”, additionally thinking….f$*#@ng MORON!” With that he just shrugged and said he hadn’t thought of that, closed his eyes and spoke no more. No, “I’m sorry”, no “Thank you”…nothing, just snoring. I of course did what I always did…nothing. The next day life went on as usual. We never spoke of it again. That was our usual. Don’t talk about it, just bury it with everything else we never talked about. That burial ground was getting very full, too full for any marriage to survive.

Joy Sucker

The GPS is a wonderful little invention. The type that most people have gives directions. It can help you find your way to where ever you need to go. It sits on your dashboard or suctioned to your window, speaking in a voice of your choosing, telling you where and when to turn and announcing when you have arrived at your destination. What could be more awesome? Well, I will tell you. The one that I bought online. It is called The Snitch. It doesn’t sit out in plain sight, it hides in a vehicle. It doesn’t tell you where to go, in fact it doesn’t speak at all. It is silent and stealthy and reports the position of the vehicle its hidden in by way of satellite signals to the computer of the person who hid it, and that would be me. The Snitch is about the size of a large cell phone and it fit very nicely strapped to the jack in the trunk. It was the ideal place for it. The jack was secured in the wheel well under a piece of press board that was under the carpet in the trunk. The only way he would happened to come across it is if he got a flat tire. Chances where that if he did, he would be too drunk to change the tire anyway. So that is where I decided to hide The Snitch. I had a holder for my MP3 player that was the perfect size for my new toy. It had an elastic strap with velcro so you could put it around your arm while exercising. Since that hadn’t been an activity of mine for quite some time the holder was not being used. I blew the dust off it and slipped the Snitch in. The only problem was that the front of it was clear vinyl so you could see right in to it. Big orange and black letters spelling out its name. This would not do. I was afraid I might forget to put it away sometime and he might see it and then the jig would be up. I forgot how blissfully unaware he was of what and how much I knew, and that he probably wasn’t bright enough to put two and two together anyway. So, in a moment of extreme overkill, I actually scanned my MP3 player, printed a picture of it and inserted it in the holder, thus disguising The Snitch. Like I said, overkill, but it was this type of attention to detail that aided me in my search for the facts. Everyday after Dick left for work I would plug it in and charge it up. Then, after dinner while he was in the shower I would sneak down to the garage and secure it to the jack. Quickly, but quietly I would close the trunk and return to the kitchen to finish cleaning up the dishes. After he left for the evening I would sit, at the computer and watch his every move. I kept a journal of where he went and how long he stayed. One night he had a big old story of where he was going and who he would be seeing. He usually just said he was going out, nothing more, just out. But this night he was being too specific. I knew something was up. There I was, for hours, with my laptop beside me yelling at the screen….”LIER!!!” “YOU LYING SACK OF S#!T!!” The worst part of it was that I only knew where he was, but not what he was doing or who he was with, doing whatever it was he was doing. My imagination ran wild. Not a good thing. Sometimes I would cry, sobbing hysterically, “Why? Why don’t you love me anymore?” Other times I would get so angry I would scream, just stand there and scream until my throat was raw. I think I was trying to purge myself of what I was feeling. After a time I noticed that I was pretty much feeling nothing. And this was not only when I was tracking Dick. It was all the time. There was no anger, no sadness, certainly no shock, but also, no happiness, peace, or love. I had shut down. He had sucked the joy and right out of my life. I was just going through the motions, trying to survive emotionally, until I was ready to do something to change my situation and that wouldn’t be for another six months

My Darling Dick

Just to give you a better idea of where Dick and I were as a couple, I need to go back to ground zero, the day I came home from the hospital. As I mentioned before, the instructions I received from my doctor were to stay in a reclined position and not to get up except for trips to the bathroom and meals. I was to do this for a week, then I could start getting up and walking around for 10 minutes at a time a few times a day. One point that was stressed about the first day was that I was not to be left alone. I guess knowing that most people have a habit of not following the "Don't get up" rule to the letter makes it important to have someone around to enforce it. Its just that it feels so good to be home you think you have more stamina than you actually do, and that leads to taking on more than you should. So, just in case I got woozy from the meds and passed out, or fell, I needed to have someone there. Not a problem. I had a husband. He cared about me. He would be there to tend to my every need. Even though he was a cheating son-of-a-bitch, he still cared about my well being...or so I thought. It was somewhere around nine o'clock when I heard the sound of keys jingling. No...I said to myself...it couldn't be...could it? He wouldn't...would he? Was he going out? You bet ya! I got up and went to the top of the stairs and there he was by the door, putting his coat on. "What are you doing?" I asked. "Going out with Harry." He said. I reminded him that I wasn't supposed to be left alone. He told me that he had plans, he promised Harry he'd meet up with him. I started to cry..."Please don't go out. Not tonight! What if something happens to me?" "I have my phone, just call me." Oh, yea, right. Now there's a good idea I thought...when I finally come to after passing out, I'll crawl to my phone and call a drunk to come help me!!! That is if he even bothers to answer it. "Please," I said again, "Stay home. Don't leave me alone." "Sorry but I promised Harry. You weren't supposed to be home until tomorrow, so we made plans. Its not my fault you came home a day early." Aside from the little sniffles and hiccups one gets when crying, no other sounds came out of me. I stood there quietly sobbing in disbelief as I watched him walk out the front door. His parting words to me were "I won't be late." I don't know about you, but I consider anything after midnight as being late. So, when 2:20am rolled around and he stumbled in I knew that he may have seen Harry that night at some point, but he must have been with her. I had no way to prove it, it was just a gut feeling, that and the fact that he never came upstairs to go to bed. He slept on the couch in the family room. He always did that as a way of avioding me incase I happened to be awake. He probably had a date and didn't want to cancel. If he was really going out with Harry, he would have canceled...well, he would have at least considered cancelling. I didn't like all the wondering. Where was he going? Who was he with? Was he telling me the truth? So, I did the only thing I could do...I went online and ordered a GPS tracking device to put in the car...best investment I ever made! I had it shipped to my friend Claire's house to avoid Dick accidentally coming across it. And, I put a rush on it. Now the real fun was about to begin.

The Early Daze

I thought that I should comment on how Dick and I began. Dick was my first real boyfriend. He was the one I gave myself to, body and soul. Yes, he was my first in every sense of the word. Hopefully he won't be my last! We met at his Senior Prom. I was there with a friend of his that I worked with. We sat across form each other and I found myself staring at him quite a bit. I wasn't staring because he was gorgeous or anything, I thought he was cute, but nothing to write home about. I was drawn to him for some reason. At one point I found myself thinking..."I wonder what it would be like to go out with him?" Then he did something or said something that escapes me right now and I thought..."Never mind...he's probably an asshole." That was not the only time I thought that or something similar in the months leading up to when we finally became "us", a couple. I remember how my best friend at the time, Tina, took an instant dislike to him the first time she met him. Dick and I weren't going out yet, but we happened to be at the same party one night and he just made the hair on the back of Tina's neck stand up. He was half in the wrapper and kept trying to throw bottle caps and peanuts down my shirt. I know, real mature. What a catch!! This type of behavior in a drunk, 19 year old boy is not something that usually sends up warning signals, but for some reason all Tina could see were red flags. I on the other hand kind of enjoyed the attention...after all what drunk 18 year old girl wouldn't? Tina told me on the way home that she didn't trust him and hoped that I wasn't interested in him. I distinctly remember saying to her "Oh, please!! Don't worry, I wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole!!!" Yup, a ten foot pole. Those were my words and I meant them. That was in July, by the end of August Dick and I were dating, you know, going steady. What changed? He told me he loved me. With those three words he became my Prince Charming. He rode up on his white horse and swept me off my feet. Thirty one years later, he dropped me...right on my ass. And Prince Charming turned out to be nothing more than a figment of my imagination.