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Modern life, choices from a mans perspective, while finding you're between a rock and a -. |
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Moving On Life is hard and then it shits on you. I'm a real pessimist aren't I? Some would say I grew up in the wrong time period and it was all just circumstances that I was unlucky to live in. I have felt unlucky for a long time! Graduating from high school I was facing Vietnam. I was smart enough to get a college deferment and spent the next four years keeping my grades up hoping the War would end before I got out of college. No such luck! I had joined ROTC in college hoping if I was going to be drafted I could become an officer. I got a degree in psychology and signed up for a four year stint as an officer. As a Second Lieutenant, and psychiatrist, I listened to all the horror stories coming out of Vietnam and tried not to get post traumatic syndrome myself. What a waste! After four years in the military I decided if I went this far as a therapist I might as well go the whole route. The hours spent as a military therapist counted for experience and all I needed was to get my masters. By the time I opened my office in Minneapolis I was almost thirty years old with a fifty thousand dollar debt. I sarcastically thought to myself, 'Just so I could live in the United States. Being a two year drafty might have been better, or better yet a draft dodger and moved to Canada.' Ya I know, choices! I kept making them. What choice does one have but keep making them. Any huw, I found work in our legal system, analyzing criminals for their mental fitness and ability to stand trial. The other part of my practice was analyzing and helping cheaters in the divorce courts, discovering why they would disrespect their spouses and if there was a chance of saving the marriage. After eight years of college I felt inadequate in helping people straiten their lives out. One of the first things I needed when I started my practice was a good receptionist. The gal I chose after a week of interviews was a young divorcee that had a very engaging personality. She was excellent at setting up my appointments and talking to people. She was a tall, lanky knockout with red hair and green eyes. You couldn't help but like her. I not only liked her, but I fell for her like a fish on a line. She was the bait and I was the fish! Within a month we were in front of the justice of the peace. I was supposed to be a psychiatrist with rational thoughts. I had no thoughts, but was promising her whatever it took to make her mine. She was my Mary Beth Rigsbee for five years until she became my Jezebel. Within the first year we had a baby daughter and Mary Beth became a stay at home Mom. In the second year we had a baby boy and she needed a maid and a mansion. In the third year we had another daughter and she needed a cook. After our third child I convinced her I couldn't sleep with her unless we used protection. By the end of the fourth year we had another baby boy. In order to keep up with the bills I was taking in clients on Saturday and in the evenings during the week. At the end of the Fifth year she presented me with divorce papers and the real Jezebel kicked in and the fun began. I had raised the rates I could charge for marriage counseling, about as high as I could go and still get referrals. An acceptable wage scale for white collar administrators in the early '80's was twenty to thirty thousand. I was making eighty thousand, after all expenses were deducted, but had a two hundred thousand dollar debt at the bank over any equity that I had. For every eighty thousand dollar year I had, we had spent one hundred and twenty thousand dollars. When the dust settled on our divorce and the Judge handed down his decree I was smiling. My Lawyer and I had settled for a house maintenance of forty thousand a year and child and alimony of twenty thousand dollars, leaving me with twenty thousand to live on. Part of her house maintenance was paid towards house payments and taxes leaving me responsible for only one hundred thousand dollars. I could pay the interest on that debt and still have twelve thousand left for my living expenses. Hallelujah! It was a victory for me. I knew Jezebel wouldn't live on thirty thousand a year and would have to make concessions to make ends meet. The maid and cook were the first to go and then her mother moved in. Good! Then four college girls moved in. Great, I thought. They are helping with expenses. But then my children, Catherine, Charles Junior C.J., Chanel and Nicolas were being sent to a babysitter on Tuesday nights and I was told I could have the children from Friday night to Sunday evening. Fine by me! Until the children and I stopped back in one Friday night to pick up the dippers we had forgotten to take with us. As a hillbilly would say, 'There was a party going on!' There were college girls parading around with old men drinking and playing cards. Jezebel handed me the diaper bag as soon as she saw me and rushed me out to close the door. I had a sneaking suspicion that my redhead was up to no good. Was I to be a part of her downfall? I knew what hell was like in its unvarnished reality. I saw it and heard about it in Vietnam. I've seen it in prisons. In the eyes of tortured men and women, lamenting their shortcomings because of desires they hadn't known they'd had. My Mary Beth was already living in hell. Jezebel was going down the slippery slope towards her demise and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. Those old fools didn't become men of wealth because they had scruples. Far from it! Jezebel was going to be sold a bill of goods. If I approached our friendly protectors in blue uniforms, someone would know about it. I would need to blackmail someone if I even had a ghost of a chance of saving anybody. I went back to my car and my little five year old girl, Cathy, asked me. “What's the matter Daddy?” Oh, my precious little girl, how could you even begin to understand! How can you tell a five year old that we live in a society that pays lip service to the golden rules of the Bible and pays homage to the economics of the almighty dollar. If you don't live within your station in life, your willful desires will lead you to breaking every rule that has ever been created, to protect you from falling into hell here on earth. And if you can shear your soul to the point were you're proud of what you've become, old age will point out how stupid you really were. Jezebel was going to experience hell, if not now, in the near future. “Don't worry Cathy, Mommy's got some friends over tonight that are keeping her company while you're spending time with me. You wouldn't be happy if I was all by myself and lonely, would you?” “No Daddy. I like keeping you company!” “Thank you honey. I like having you four with me.” I decided right then and there, I had to be here to pick up the pieces when their world came crashing down around them, once again. I was living in my own hell, in that I was being a front man for a rich lady, Margery, that was fighting her own battles with her situation and her conscience. She was a trophy wife that had a rich husband that was too old for her and she was just waiting for him to die. She paid me an exorbitant amount of money to soothe her conscience in my therapy chair. I rented a three bedroom apartment that she had a key for, so she could entertain friends while I worked. She was another reason why I wouldn't say anything about Jezebel's party. One of her male friends was sitting in a chair at Jezebels when I had walked into Jezebel's mansion. Oh, what tangled webs we weave. Time passed on and by hook or crook I had my debt back down to zero. Margery's hubby had gone on to the great beyond. (Died) I was back to paying for my own apartment while Margery was playing in her mansion. Jezebel was doing well I thought. She had hired a cook and maid once again. Six years had gone by and Jezebel still hadn't fallen on her face. I had thought one of her college girls would have been dissatisfied with some of the extreme demands of their job and blew the whistle or died trying to blow a whistle. One evening while I was sitting at home reading a philosophical mumble rumble about cheaters, (Romance novel) my phone rang. Picking it up I heard the slow southern drawl of my cousin down in Houston. “Hey good buddy. How's my favorite Yankee doing?” “Hanging in there. If we want to stay in this world, what other choice do we have?” “Got that right! How's the kids? How's your ex doing? She hasn't fallen on her face yet, has she?' “Kids are good. Cathy's eleven already. Can you believe that? If something had happened to Jezebel, you'd ah heard about it.” One thing about Bubba, he held nothing back so we had no secrets between us. In fact we tried to shock each other if we could. But that was hard to do. “When are you coming to see us? It's been ten years since we've been up to see you and the redhead. Man that was a trip. Sorry about that. For a second I was reminiscing. Any hu, (That seems to run in the family) airlines are having a bunch of wars right now and airplane tickets are cheap. I bet for two hundred bucks you could fly both ways. Hell, that's just two hours of your time sitting in a chair and listening to someone talk about their problems. I bet if you put a dummy in a chair in another room you could collect two fees at the same time. Be like spearmint gum. Double your pleasure, double your fun. Hell man, take a vacation and have your secretary fill in for you!” “OK, OK! You convinced me. Labor day weekend. We'll fly down on a Friday and come back on a Tuesday. That gives us three days with you. And you know what they say about relatives and fish after the third day.” Ya, ya. After the third day they both start stinking. What the H is this WEE stuff. You get hitched without me knowing?” “No, no. Nothing like that. It's just that the kids would be very disappointed if they didn't come along. Nick will be eight and it would be four against one, if I even suggested they stay home without me. Plus I'm sure that's one of Jezebel's big weekends.” “Man, are you still kowtowing to her? What else has she got on you besides her red hair?” “No, it's not that. I want to keep the kids away from knowing what their mother does for the almighty dollar. She's been keeping it down to when the kids aren't there. I'd hate to have her start keeping the children in the basement when she's in full swing with her parties.” “Whatever man. It is just that my digs aren't big enough to put you all up.” “Don't worry about that Bubba. For three days we'll meet at the parks and let the kids run unless it gets too hot, in which case we'll sit around the pool at the hotel. Sound like a plan?” “Sounds like a great plan. Can't wait to see you. Call me when you get into town.” “Will do Bubba. Catch you later.” Hanging up the phone I thought for a minute and picked up the phone again to call a new acquaintance. “Hello Larry. Charles here. Sorry for calling you at home but I've got some information you might want to hear about.” Mary Beth sat at her dining room table sipping coffee and nibbling on a piece of toast while thinking to herself. 'Where did I go wrong? Within a month after starting to work for Charles we were married. He had been so enamored with her. Right away she knew he was the best catch she would ever have a chance at. Charles was going to fulfill her every dream. A big house, children, and all the help with them she would ever need. Charles was a money maker, but more than that, he was attentive to her every need. No, strike that! To her every want! Mary Beth had not realized how deep in debt they were until the divorce. All she knew was Charles had quit spending time with her and the only time he looked at her was when he had a frown on his face. When he told her they had to stop having children, to her it meant he had stopped loving her. When he was willing to give her seventy five percent of the family income and the house to her, was it just to get rid of her? Mary Beth wondered who he was sleeping with. When the bills started coming in and the bank was calling, reality finally became obvious. She was saddled with a debt she couldn't afford and a lifestyle that was beyond her means. Mary Beth ran to her mother, Janice. Her mother was a man hater from way back. Janice perceived that her daughter was setting on a gold mine. First thing was to move in and fire the help. She also knew which college girls to contact. Next Mary Beth furnished the names of who had money and who were lonesome men or had a perversion. The money started rolling in. At first Mary Beth tried to hide the parties from Charles, but then she thought if he knew, he would step in and demand she change. It didn't happen. Then she thought if she got the house paid off he would ask her to get out of the business of being a Madame. That didn't happen either. Now the children were gone for the next four days and it was time to make the money she no longer needed. Where had she gone wrong? She couldn't quit. One of the old men was part of a mafia group. He was demanding his cut of the profits for protection and did not want his cash cow to dry up. Hearing a commotion with loud voices, she looked around the corner. What she saw made her blood run cold. There were men in blue uniforms handcuffing people, with the old man from the mafia was running up the stairs. She knew right away where he was heading. There was a back stairway to the house and he was trying to slip away. 'Oh no you don't old man.' she whispered to herself while grabbing the derringer out of the inside pocket of her jacket. Stepping into the hallway, pointing the gun, she asked, “Are you going somewhere bozo?” “Ya, let's get out of here Mary Beth.” “You set me up didn't you shithead!” “No, I swear!” “Good bye shithead. You should never mess with a redhead.” And she pulled the trigger. The morning after Labor Day I woke up to the phone ringing. Picking it up I heard, “Mary Beth is dead!” It was Janice sobbing. “Slow up Janice. Tell me what happened.” “There was this mobster that was taking money from us for police protection. The cops busted us Friday night. Mary Beth shot the jerk and then shot herself. Why would she do such a thing?” “Why did she want what no one could give her? I'm sure she wanted peace of mind and only Mary Beth could give her that! Maybe she saw a way to even the score and didn't want to go to jail. You know if only one of your girls is convicted of a crime when the cops arrested everyone, all of you could face manslaughter charges. Something to think about.” It was time to cut this conversation off and get the kids up. And then head for the airport. “Call me this evening and we'll talk more. My children and I will be spending some time tonight at my apartment. Goodbye! Cathy spoke up. “Who was that Daddy?” “That was your Grandmother.” “What does she want?” “She told me something that I will share with you tonight. I need you to wake up your sister and brothers and get your showers taken so we can go to the airport and get home. OK?” With a deep sigh Cathy said. “OK.” By ten o'clock they were at the terminal heading for the Twin Cities. Charles was coping, but just barely. The realization that Mary Beth was dead and gone forever, was just now hitting home. He had always thought that Mary Beth would start working with him again instead of either fighting or ignoring him, they would settle their differences. Knowing about Jezebel, or what he thought he knew bothered him, but not in the way most men would think of it. Her Mother deserved half the blame, But the other part was that he subconsciously blamed himself. He should have found another way when she hit him with divorce papers. Of course he knew that was wistful thinking. He had been between a rock and becoming an alcoholic. He had to choose the rock. Alcohol would have killed him. Dying wasn't an option! When they got on the plane he hardly recognized that the plane wasn't full. He strapped the two younger children into their seats and watched as the two older one's did their own. “What well behaved children you have Sir. Are they yours?” A tall woman of about thirty five was standing behind me. “ Yes they are. That's Cathy, Catherine to be exact. The older boy is C.J or Charles Junior. And this is Chanel. She hates that name. She thinks her name sounds like perfume. This little boy is Nicolas. He likes his name just the way it is. I'm Charles Rigsbee.” Taking her hand I said. “And your name is?” “Glad to meet you. I'm Ann. Ann __ Drexler” “Oh? Did I hear a pause there?” “I'm afraid you did. It's embarrassing to say the least. Let's not talk about it.” “OK. We should be getting seated. I'm sure we'll be taking off soon.” The kids had been through this five days ago and acted like seasoned travelers. When the seat belt lights went off I heard a, “Pis, Charles.” Turning around I saw Ann four seats back waving at me to come back and towards the empty seat by her. I got up and reminded the children that they could unbuckle now and pointed where I'd be. Going back to Ann I sat down and vegetated for a few minutes. “What's wrong?” Ann asked. “You don't want to hear my story?” “No, it's not that. This morning I got a call from my ex's mother. She said my ex is dead. I haven't told the kids yet. I'll have to do that tonight when we get to my apartment in Minneapolis. How do you tell children their mother is dead? For six years now I knew my ex was on a suicide course and I couldn't help her. She shot a man Friday night and then herself. She's gone, she's gone! I'll never again enjoy her flaming red hair or her twinkling blue eyes or her laugh. She's gone!” “You still loved her, didn't you? “Ya, she was easy to love and easy to hate! Talk about a conundrum. I'm sorry. I'm a basket case today! What with your name. Tell me the story. Today I need a story!” “I did a really stupid thing. After two years of being divorced, I changed my name back to my maiden name. Now my daughter and I will have different last names. Is that stupid or what?” “No. It's your prerogative. Do you feel like you have space and closure from your ex now?” “How did you know? Are you a mind reader? Wow!” “No. In my line of work you run into feeling a lot. This feeling has been expressed several times in the past. I'm a therapist and have an office in Minneapolis. What do you do, if I may ask?” A nd I had to ask myself, when did I get comfortable with sitting here talking to Ann? “I'm a nurse and work at Children's Minnesota hospital in Minneapolis. I'd like to give you my phone numbers. OK?” “OK.” “If you need to talk, call, anytime day or night. This number is the phone number on my floor at the Hospital. This number is my phone number in my apartment.” “Wow! I wish I could have called you six years ago!” “We weren't ready for each other six years ago. I was fighting for a marriage six years ago and you were still hanging on and hoping. Do you need help tonight?” “No. I'd better do this by myself. Thank you Ann. I can't express how much you helped me. Well I'd better get back to my seat. Fasten seat belt signs are back on. I'll call you tonight. I hope I won't be smothering you. Goodbye.” “You won't be! Until we see each other again. That's better than a Goodbye.” The End |
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