The Long Fall

by Daniel Quentin Steele

  So I just shrugged and said, "You got your homework done?"

  He was going to turn around and ignore me when I said, "Walk up those stairs without answering that question and you're under house arrest for two weeks."

  He stopped and turned in mid-step and looked at me as if I were some grotesque bug that had crawled out from under a rock.

  "You're not going to-"

  "Try me," I said, using the tone I wield when informing an opposing attorney that the deal I was offering was going to be off the table in 30 seconds.

  "Mom won't-"

  "What Mom says doesn't count for shit, and you can tell her I said that. You answer my question or forget about running with your friends for two weeks. And if I have to come home early for two weeks, I will."

  He took a deep breath. "I got 20 pages to read in English and two pages of problems in Algebra."

  "Alright, get upstairs and start on it."

  He turned around but he said just loudly enough that I could hear but he could plausibly deny, "God, what a dick. No wonder Mom stays out so much."

  He turned around to look at me slyly and I just grinned at him. I think that's what really pissed him off.

  The next time I heard a car in the driveway I heaved myself out of my chair and glanced at the clock on the Wall. 11 p.m. I walked out to the front of the house and looked out through the window into the driveway. A sporty Audi model, a two seater, had pulled up into the circular drive. The car idled for a moment. I could make out two figures inside.

  Then the one with long hair leaned over and it might have been, probably was, a kiss, brief but a kiss, and the passenger side door opened. As I expected, my blonde wife slid her long legs out and then got up. She bent over to wave goodbye to the driver and in that instant I saw a youngish dark haired guy at the wheel. I wasn't sure, but I thought he was another Associate or maybe Assistant professor in the business department.

  As Debbie walked to the house I was pretty sure she hadn't gone to work teaching in that outfit. The blouse was low cut and tight, drawing attention to the globes of her breasts, and the dress itself was cut at above the knee. Not quite a mini-skirt, but it would ride high enough when sitting in a car. Not a teacher's outfit. So she had come home and changed, assuming she had gone to work, and then gone out for a long evening.

  Doing what, I wondered, and with whom. But I decided I was going to try to be civil.

  I went back into the den and sat down in front of the television with a few sips of liquor in my glass and switched between Fox and MSNBC to watch the arguing talking heads. I heard the front door open and then her steps came through the house. The steps stopped as she approached the door to the den. I knew without looking back that she had stopped and seen me sitting there.

  I wondered if she was going to say anything. As I'd halfway expected, she didn't say a word, just continued up the stairs obviously heading for our bedroom. After awhile I heard the shower going. Then nothing.

  At midnight Kelly came in, gave me a glance in the den and wandered upstairs as well. I sat watching nothing in particular until 12:30 when I realized I had to go to bed. I had been putting it off as long as possible. I turned off the TV and went up the stairs. When I got to the bedroom, all the lights were off. Only the light from the outside hallway showed me a shape on Debbie's side of the bed.

  She didn't say anything as I walked in. I had planned to say something, but then thought the hell with it. Let her start the conversation if there was anything she had to say. She was the one who had told me she didn't want to see or hear anything from me that morning.

  I took a quick shower, dressed in the walk-in closet, again with pajamas and walked silently to my side of the bed. I slipped under the covers and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. Beside me I heard Debbie breathing slowly and rhythmically. She was pretending to be asleep but I could tell she was awake. Her breathing was too slow and rhythmical. I wasn't going to look over at her to see if her eyes were open.

  Finally I rolled on my side away from her and somehow I fell asleep. The next morning I was up early again, dressed and out of the house without saying a word to her. I grabbed an egg bacon biscuit at Hardy's on the way to work. I dived into my world of murder, deceit and mayhem and actually enjoyed the work, probably a little more than usual. I never heard from Debbie, cell phone, office phone, nothing. It was as if I didn't have a wife.

  The only thing that brought her to my mind was when Cheryl stopped in my office for a moment and said, "How did things go, Bill?"

  "They didn't."

  "What did she say?"

  "Not a word."

  "How-?"

  "When I came home she was out. She rolled in about 11 o'clock in a car belonging to good looking young professor that works with her at UNF. I think she kissed him goodnight. Then she walked in, took a shower and went to bed. Not a word."

  "God, Bill, I'm sorry. But why didn't you-"

  "Didn't feel like it, I guess, Cheryl. I'm starting to think there's not much doubt about what's going on here. And she's the one who needs to start clearing the air."

  Cheryl just gave me a look then said, "I know it's going to be hard, Bill, but you guys have to talk. Hell, you're an attorney. You know things have to be talked out."

  "I'll take it under advisement."

  I knew I should have gone home, but I couldn't make myself do it. I was looking around for a bar and on the way home to my Mandarin home I saw one that had just opened up a few weeks before. "The Last Call." It was a fairly big bar near a small strip mall. On an impulse I stopped and went in.

  The inside was modernistic, all dark wood and mirrors, chairs set at small tables, a long bar, greenery in the corner. There was a slightly raised area at one side with a piano so there would obviously be entertainment at some times. Fortunately there was nobody there right now because I wasn't in the mood for music.

  A medium height Hispanic guy with a big head of black hair came to my seat at the bar, introduced himself as the owner and offered me a free drink on the house as part of a first week celebration. I told him to bring me a beer. I could afford maybe two, and then I was heading home. I couldn't, as a high ranking SA, afford a DUI arrest.

  I nursed the first beer as long as I could watching the customers come in. The place had gotten fairly full in the two hours between 6 and 8 p.m. Then I ordered that second beer and nursed it until nearly 10.

  My cell phone hadn't rung the first time. Debbie was used to my running late, but usually by 8 she had checked in with me to find out when I'd be home. I wondered if she hadn't called because she was out of the house with her young professor.

  I couldn't put it off any longer and got back on the road and was home in 20 minutes. The lights were on in the kitchen and in the den. I used my key to enter the house and checked in the kitchen first. There was a pork chop and some rice and vegetables on a plate in the microwave. As before, I didn't have an appetite. I was tempted to dump it in the trash but I put it back in the fridge. Maybe the kids might eat it tomorrow.

  As I walked by the den I glanced in and saw her sitting in the chair in front of a large glass coffee table. It looked like she had papers out grading them. She had a glass filled with what looked like white wine and she had a favorite album compilation of Cranberries and Human League songs on the stereo. She didn't look back at me as I walked by and I didn't say anything to her.

  I went upstairs, took a shower, and hit the bed. I don't know why, but I was suddenly exhausted. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. When I woke up in the morning, I was alone in bed and it didn't look like she'd been in it all night long. I looked in the den as I prepared to leave the house and saw she had curled up on the couch. She was still wearing a blouse and skirt combination that looked like what she'd worn to work. It was wrinkled as hell.

  As I stood there, she suddenly raised her head, shook it a little and opened her eyes staring into mine. I think we were both equally surprised. After a moment I wal
ked out with my briefcase and got into my Escalade and drove to work.

  It was a Friday and we were just preparing for a round of trials that were going to kick off with jury selection the next Monday. There are always ten million little details that have to be ironed out on that kind of Friday so I worked my ass off and I didn't even turn the lights off in my office until 10:30 p.m.

  It was 11:30 p.m. before I got home. As usual the house was dark and silent. I looked on the fridge and saw notes from Bill Jr. saying he was spending the night with a friend and one from Kelly saying she was going with friends to a concert and would be spending the night with a friend's parents. Both kids had left contact numbers and I quickly called both numbers. Their stories checked out and I knew both sets of parents so I rested easy about them.

  Where was Debbie? Her Nissan was gone. I went by the den and up to the bedroom. She was nowhere to be seen. I began to wonder why that surprised me. And for the very first time, I started to wonder who I might contact to handle a divorce if that was the way it turned.

  I shook my head as I realized what I was thinking. A divorce, a few days after one argument? What the hell had happened?

  I almost reached for my cell phone to call her. And then stopped myself. I knew it was stupid, but I couldn't make myself dial her number. I hadn't done anything wrong. She was the one who sparked everything and then made it worse by her goddamn unbelievably suspicious reactions. Maybe I shouldn't have accused her of cheating, but dammit, you'd have to be a complete moron not to wonder what was going on after the way she had acted.

  She was wrong. She had frozen me out. She was out with people I didn't know, riding home with strange young men, kissing them. She was being friendly and wonderful with everyone except the poor slob who had spent 17 years working his ass off to make a good life for her and the kids. It shouldn't be me making the first move.

  Tonight I didn't even have to think about what to do. I barely had energy to get into the shower, wash off the grime and sweat (and yes, even attorneys get sweaty during a long day) and hit the bed. And again I was unconscious instantly.

  I had one of those moments where you don't know quite where you are when you first wake up. A few seconds later I realized I was in my own bed. But something was strange. And then it hit me. I was alone in bed. I looked over at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was 10 a.m. I glanced over the bed. She had never been in it.

  I rolled out of bed and headed downstairs. Maybe she had come in late and slept in the den. Maybe she had gotten up and was cooking breakfast. Not that she did that much anymore, but it was possible.

  The house was bigger, and quieter, and emptier than seemed possible. Her Nissan was still gone. There was no sign she had ever come home the previous night. I toured the house three times, but it didn't change the facts. I tried to remember if anything like this had ever happened in our 17 years of marriage. I knew it hadn't.

  One fight, four little words, and it seemed like our marriage was crashing down like a sand castle as the tide washed in. Was it possible to be so damned blind that I had completely missed all the signs for months, or years?

  I could have started calling around. But, I was the prematurely old, sexually unattractive, clueless husband whose wife was spending the night out without any word on where or what she was doing. Fuck her.

  I got dressed and headed for a nearby Waffle House. Al l their food items were cardiac health hazards, but I loved their fluffy omelets and right now I didn't give a damn about watching my waist line. It looked like it was too late for that anyway.

  It was nearly noon and I was washing the last of the omelet and crisp bacon down with a fourth cup of coffee when my cell phone range. I automatically answered it, figuring it was one of the kids.

  "Bill."

  I swallowed the last of the coffee and answered, "Hello Roy."

  Roy Bascomb was my father-in-law. We'd always gotten along pretty good. He owned a tire store on the Northside and had a few rental properties as well.

  "Hi, Bill. I...uh...I tried to call you at your house, but I didn't get an answer."

  "I'm not there."

  "Yeah, I figured. Uh, Bill, I just wanted to call and let you know...Debbie is at our house right now."

  "Debbie, that's interesting. I used to know a girl named Debbie. We talking the same person?"

  There was a pretty good silence and then, "She told us that you guys were....having some problems and that you might be....upset...when I called you. But I didn't want you to worry about where she was."

  "Now why would I be worried, Roy? Just because she doesn't come home one night, all night, and doesn't leave me a word to let me know if she's dead or alive or fucking a dozen guys somewhere? You're acting like I actually have a wife, or something, instead of a woman who spends my paycheck and then goes off with other men."

  "Bill, stop talking like that. You're talking about Debbie. Your wife. Our daughter. The mother of your children. You know she's not...running around on you."

  "I do, Roy? How do I know? She's off a lot of nights and I only have her word about what she's doing. And night before last I see a young guy she works with drop her off at 11 p.m. and she kisses him goodnight. She tell you about that? By the way, what time did she get to your house last night?"

  "God, I think I'm seeing what she's worried about. She said you guys had a fight about something stupid and you accused her of cheating and haven't been willing to say a word to her since then.

  "And you're mistaken about seeing her kiss anybody. She told us about that meeting. It was a college meeting, and the guy who dropped her off was a friend. A lady she works with picked her up but had an emergency and had to leave early so the guy you saw volunteered to take her home. There was no kissing.

  "As to when she came here, Bill, she came over straight from the school, at 5:30 p.m. and she was here all night. Unless you think we're lying for her. Is that how far around the bend you've gone?"

  "Roy, she's your daughter and I know you're going to support her. Although, I would think after 19 years of knowing me and seeing that I've been a good husband and good father to your grandchildren, you might give me a little benefit of the doubt.

  "And if she was going to see you, why didn't she leave a note. Or call. Or do any damn thing so I wouldn't wake up this morning and believe she spent the night out with somebody else, and start thinking seriously about how we're going to divide up our assets."

  I felt the anger start to rise inside me, a black rising tide, and fought to keep my voice calm.

  "And come to think of it, if she's so concerned, why the hell isn't she talking to me right now? Why does she have to get her father to call me?"

  After a moment he said apologetically, "I know she was wrong not to let you know where she was, Bill. I told her she should have. And she's not on the phone because she doesn't want to talk to you.

  "I have to tell you, I've known you guys since before you were married, and I've never her seen her like this before. She is so pissed with you. I think you really hurt her when you...accused her of being unfaithful. I don't know...I don't know if those are words you can take back."

  I took a last swig of my coffee.

  “Well let me see if I follow this. She said a few words that upset me, but I'm supposed to get over it, and I said a few words that upset her and she's acting like the marriage is over because I said them. Is that right?"

  When he didn't answer, I said, "Well, if you would, pass on a message from me to your daughter. Tell her if that's the way she feels, I don't give a damn if she ever comes back. Oh, and be sure and tell her this, word for word: Fuck you!"

  I clicked off before he could respond, although I doubted he would. I sat back and thought about the call. In one sense I was relieved. She hadn't been out screwing her UNF buddy last night. But hell, she could have done that at any time if she'd been inclined. And staying out all night and deliberately leaving me in the dark was not the kind of thing a loving wife was supposed
to do.

  I sat back for a moment and thought about what I'd do today and Sunday. Normally I'd hang around the house, watch some TV, maybe do a few honey-do list items, go out to eat or do a little shopping with Debbie. I could go back into the office, but...

  Suddenly I knew what I wanted to do. And it had the added benefit of keeping me in the house if Bill or Kelly came back. I drove home and sat down at the big desktop computer I used in the little office adjacent to our bedroom. I started the slave spy program I'd installed on all the computers and laptops in the house. Since we were on DSL, any signals sent or received on any computer were copied onto the slave program.

  I knew my passwords and those of Bill Jr. and Kelly, so I simply eliminated them and any left, even without knowing Debbie's passwords, were automatically hers.

  I had all day so I dropped back six months and started scrolling through messages to and from her. Because she was a professor, there were tons from students, other professionals, the university, and a few from friends from our college days. But nothing too unusual.

  I didn't notice them at first. I was routinely flipping through messages when it occurred to me that the name on a message to her sounded familiar. I looked at it a little more closely. LanceAlot4U. The one I was looking at was from three months ago and it simply talked about a meeting that had been cancelled for a Tuesday evening. Lancelot said he knew she had left early and the Chair had asked him to contact her so she wouldn't make a useless trip. Nothing personal.

  But I started scrolling backwards and I found more, from him to her and from her to him.

  Messages about lesson plans, meetings that were called or cancelled, office politics, just saying hello. Once in awhile she teased him about a hot date he was going to be going on over the weekend and telling him to be careful if he couldn't be good. The closest I could get to anything personal was a quick quip on one from him to her that he wouldn't have to be careful if she'd go out with him because he knew she was a good, Christian homemaker. But in her very next response she wrote him back: