Storm Warnings

Monday of Labor Day 2008 was a foggy day. The sun was shining, but I was in a fog. I really couldn't think straight after Dick had finally admitted to having slept with his "friend" Charlot. I had to regroup. I couldn't be near him for another minute, so I went to work. It was not a work day, but Gabby, my co-worker/neighbor/friend, and I had planned on using the day to get a few things organized for the new school year. We ran the food service at a local private school. I must have looked like hell, because when I came through the loading dock door into the kitchen, Gabby took one look at me and said, "What's wrong...are you all right?" Because of the 'what if we stayed together then everyone would be uncomfortable' factor, I really wasn't planning on telling her. But, when she asked, I answered. I told her everything. She was horrified by my news. She had that 'Deer in the headlights' look and I could see her eyes fill with tears as she choked out "How could he do that to you?" "I don't know...because he's an as$#@le?" I answered. So there the two of us were, getting nothing done, sitting in the kitchen, sobbing. The day wasn't a total loss, we eventually got some things done. then it was time to go back to the devastation that was my life. I went home. Luckily, Dick was not there. He left a note. "Out with Harry...Love Dick". LOVE DICK? Was he freakin' serious? Was he not here this morning when the s#it hit the fan? What the hell is the matter with that man? This was ridiculous...LOVE DICK...the nerve. What was he thinking....just act normal and everything will be fine? I could feel the anger starting to churn at the core of my being and it spread through me like wild fire. This was a good thing because it blanketed the hurt I was feeling, but it was also pretty scary. I now know what is meant when someone 'sees red'...because you actually do...I did. Thank God Dick wasn't there because I would be in jail now. Crimes of passion...I get it now. I started screaming..."LOVE, DICK? I'LL SHOW YOU SOME LOVE...DICK!!" I kicked his lunch cooler across the kitchen. That felt good, I thought, so I knocked over one of the stools sending it crashing into the wall leaving a bit of a gouge in the plaster. The next item that fell victim to my rage was the trash barrel in the kitchen. I picked it up and hurled it through the opening over the sink into the family room...screaming as it went airborne. I wasn't screaming anything in particular at this point, I was just screaming, blood curdling screams. Thank God we had central air. If the windows had been open somebody would have thought I was being murdered. Then I headed for the living room where I removed a picture of the two of us from its frame. It was a picture from happier times. We were smiling and holding hands, leaning into each other. It made me more angry. "LIAR!...YOU F'ING LIAR! WHAT ARE YOU REALLY SMILING ABOUT!" I began to tear it up. "HOW THIS FOR LOVE...DICK!" As I tore his head off, "YOU SON OF A BITCH!", followed by a few other expletives as the rest of him fell to the floor in little ragged pieces. Hurricane Betty then moved onto the bedroom. There wasn't much damage to do in there except rip apart the plastic frame that held the laundry bags...which I did. Then I saw a pair of those black boxer briefs. I didn't even bother going for the scissors. I tore them apart with my bare hands. It was easy. I started with the 'easy access' flap in the front. Once I tore that sucker open, the rest was a piece of cake. When the destruction was over I laid down on the bed, curled up into the fetal position and began to cry. I don't know how long I stayed like that before I fell asleep, exhausted from my tirade. When I woke up, I was mortified by what I had done. The anger I had felt was so intense, and it was all triggered by two little words, Love, Dick. I had no idea I was capable of feeling such rage and that scared the hell out of me. I did not like losing control, not for any reason, not like that. I had to put everything back the way it was. Not because I didn't want Dick to see what I had done, but because I couldn't look at it. Everything went back the way it was. You would never have know a crazy woman trashed the place hours earlier. The only real casualties were the picture and Dick's underwear...no great loss there. The picture was a lie, and the underwear, well, no need to explain I think. So, I put them in a bag and hid them in my closet where they stayed until trash day. By the time Dick returned home I was very calm. I didn't have the energy to be anything else. He greeted me with "Hi". I had no response. I had nothing to say to him. I was waiting for him to say something, anything to give me a clue as to where he was at with everything that had happened, but he said nothing. He just walked away as he always did when he didn't want to deal with something. We didn't speak at all for the rest of the night and the next day. When we finally did talk about it, it was me who had to initiate the conversation. As usual he was making me do all the work when it came to 'us'.