Dishonor Thy Wife

by Belinda Austin

  I must be allergic to leeches and resemble an actor in a horror film, soaking wet with my legs covered in bites. Red blotches have erupted on my skin. My face has a rash, and my legs wobble like a drunkard.

  My breathing is raspy. An antihistamine might save my life.

  Someone has stolen my car!

  Luckily, my cell phone is still at the top of the cliff but there is no one I can call for help.

  I stick out my thumb and hitchhike.

  Even I would not pick me up.

  Yet, there is always a Good Samaritan, usually a bubbly nerdy type with glasses and potholes on his face, and red hair sticking up from his head like an ice cream cone. He swerves his car onto the shoulder; pops open his door and yells at me. “Climb in.”

  The nerd jabbers as if I am his best friend. Coincidentally, he carries a pharmacy in the console of his car. He offers me an antihistamine and a bottle of water. “The pill will make you drowsy,” he advises in a sinister way. The good Sam-aritan may actually be a Son of Sam type and a serial killer who drugs his victims with cough syrup and allergy pills. He is driving around Pace Bend Park at like five in the morning. He does not even ask me where my pants are but glances occasionally at my Superman undershorts that have a couple of dead leeches clinging to the crotch.

  My wallet is in my stolen car, but I found a wallet fished at the bottom of Lake Travis belonging to a man who the news had broadcast killed himself. His twenty-dollar bills will pay for a cab home after Samaritan Herman reaches his destination. He smiles like Opie Taylor from The Andy Griffith Show and turns down a twenty for his drugs.

  Ah shucks, Pa, I was half-hoping he would kill me since the leeches have failed to suck all my blood out.

  The weirdest thing about the nerd giving me a ride is when he asks if I have any live leeches on me to add to his pharmacy. “A dead leech won’t do me any good,” he says and shifts his eyes to my crotch again.

  I nod off to sleep while Opie lectures me on maintaining a clean lifestyle.

  Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony wakes me. Yellow goo on my lashes have glued my eyelids and I rub until the sun shines through the front car window. Through the fuzz in my brain creeps the night before in Technicolor. I groan slamming my fists against the dash. Too much booze mixed with sniffing drugs makes me crazy.

  My cell phone keeps playing Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony with persistence, going into the fourth movement. Barbie must be ringing to apologize. Surely, we can make it through this burp in our relationship. A man knows he is nuts about a woman when he thinks about her as She. She. She, as if she is the only woman owns the pronoun. I will let her speak first and then apologize. We will make up. I will offer to go back to the motel and fix her up. Damn! I should have brought a medical bag with me. Opie’s Drugs and his pair of first-grade scissors would not even help a scratch.

  I flop open the passenger mirror, one of those vanity types that lights up, and straighten my hair. Clothed in just my underwear, I feel undignified. “Give me your pants and another antihistamine,” I whisper to Opie. “Make that two allergy pills.” Only half my rash is gone and my skin appears freckly or like an alien spawned me.

  Quick, I pick up before the call transfers to voicemail. I hit the answer button and clear my throat. My mouth tastes like fish feces. My vocal cords wobble like a pussy.

  A voice sounding like me barks into the telephone, “You owe me $49,321 Brad! I want that money transferred to an account I have set up. Got that?”

  “O-kay.” My voice sounds as blistery as my face. My brother does not even tell me good morning. He just bitches as usual.

  “I want that money today. I’ll check this afternoon and see if you’ve transferred the money and if you haven’t, Brad...”

  “What are you going to do? Huh?” I stick my chest out, spoiling for a fight.

  “You son of a bitching liar! You did sign the marriage certificate! Well I do not want a wife! Get your butt back to Canada, Brad, tonight, and tell Vanessa the truth and annul your marriage.”

  My voice sounds cooler than I feel, as if I am in control even though the cell phone shakes in my hand. “What about you messing with my woman, huh? I warned you not to touch Barbie!”

  “I never touched your mistress.”

  Pharmacy drugs fuddle my brain. Last night at the hotel, Jayden was with Barbie. Stay calm. Be nice for now until your head is clear.

  “Disclosure, Brad. You never told me you have a gambling problem when you vomited your life to me in Philly.”

  “Not a problem really, a vice, a little vice. I have been trying to abstain ever since my mother rescued me financially from my last scrape. I might have lost my house if not for good old Viola. I fell off the wagon, big deal! There is nothing wrong with having fun now and then.”

  “You do have a problem if you’re gambling with my money. Is cocaine a vice too or are you an addict?”

  “I only take antihistamines now.” I keep the sulkiness from my voice and smile in a groveling manner. “Fly over and take my place in Austin while I straighten out your boring life in Canada. I have patients, too, you know. Besides, you and I shouldn’t be seen in the same town together.”

  “Agreed. We shouldn’t be seen in the same town.” He says this as if any town would be too small for the two of us.

  “My last appointment today is at one. I will catch the first plane out. I’ll e-mail you my travel plans,” I say.

  “Bring plenty of cash. I’m not exchanging credit cards this time.”

  “I’m subtracting from that $49,321 the good times you charged on my credit card,” I say mockingly to my goody-goody two shoes brother, holier-than-thou Jayden. “The amount is what, a dollar for bubblegum?”

  “You charged a lot of vice on my card, Brad. Casino charges. Prostitutes. Massage parlors. Tattoo parlor. Porn DVDs not rented but bought. An escort service. Dirty on-line subscriptions. Credit card charges that might be drug-related...”

  “Cut the laundry list, mother. Don’t judge a brother until you’ve walked in his shoes.”

  “I have walked in your shoes, Brad, and you have a sweet daughter and a nice wife in Austin.”

  “Okay, stop right there. You really have no idea how a wife and kid can tie you down. Ronni is a low-class slut who screws every man she sees except her husband.”

  Jayden hangs up on me without even saying good-bye.

  I riled you up brother, by putting down Ronni. Interesting.

  Opie drops me off at the office.

  As bad luck would have it, my staff has all come in early today. My rash appears as if an alien spawned me, and I strut past them in my undershorts, dried mud stuck to my rear and a dead leech clinging to my crotch.

  I keep an extra pair of pants in my office but unfortunately, there is no extra pair of Comfyballs so I work with my boys hanging loose and flopping about, even more liberating.

  Barbie mentioned stirrups and Jayden with the same breath.

  There is a landscaper outside the office and I borrow his tree saw and hack the examining table with the stirrups to pieces.

  I then carry the splinters out to the parking light and light a bonfire.

  Really, this is all therapy, part of Anger Management for Dummies, a downloaded ebook.

  To the bonfire, I add the picture of Jayden and me taken together at a Philly bar, both of us holding up our AMFs in a toast.

  Adios Mother Fucker!

  Up in smoke!

  Chapter 52

  JAYDEN

  Brad was quick to pay off my credit card bill and restore my credit.

  I had the urge to tell Ronni about Brad, the drugs, the other women, and his bride Vanessa. Instead, I retrieved the wedding picture of Brad and Vanessa from my office wastebasket and shredded the photo.

  Ronni will think Brad and I are two peas in a pod, I thought with disgust.

  The thought of Ronni hearing from Brad about our switch caused my stomach to somersault. I ran into the bathroom and threw up.

&n
bsp; I have been vomiting a lot lately from a nervous stomach. Oh, the tangled stomachs we weave when we practice to deceive, or some such Shakespearean quote. Our trading places were both comedy and tragedy. I wiped the bile from my mouth and spit dramatically into the sink.

  Maggie, the woman who handled insurance claims, stuck her head in the bathroom door and said in a cold voice, “Your wife is on line two, Dr. Tremblay.”

  “I told you that I don’t want to speak to Vanessa, ever.”

  Maggie gave me a dirty look and left the office door open. “There, there now. Don’t cry, sweetie,” she said loudly into the telephone.

  I walked into the reception room to get the files on some patients and the women in the office all raised their eyebrows at each other. Maggie shook her head as if to say, the honeymoon is over and our boss acts just like my ex-husband.

  I gave the women a dirty look right back and slammed the door to my office.

  I brooded as I so often did lately. There must be a way I could soften the blow when confessing to Ronni.

  I dropped my forehead on the desk. My father was right and I deserved the pains in my stomach. It was my duty to my brother to make sure no harm came to his wife and yet I screwed her big time. I could not help myself because she enticed me with her sensuality, personality, and sense of humor, not to mention her looks. Almost from the very first, she attracted me like a moth to a flame. “It’s your fault,” I planned on telling her. Ronni would probably hate me forever, but I promised my father to come clean and tell her the truth. I ruthlessly rescheduled my patients to meet Brad’s schedule, determined to face Ronni.

  My laptop pinged with an email from Brad and the travel arrangements to meet up in San Francisco, the airport of our first meeting point. Our masquerade had come full circle.

  I practiced several speeches and in each scenario, Ronni runs from me.

  I chase her until she has nowhere else to run, and corner her at a deck of the Oasis Restaurant overlooking Lake Travis.

  My sister-in-law turns and smiles at me, beckoning with a finger.

  I walk over to her with open arms and a loving smile on my lips.

  Ronni falls into my arms and kisses me forgivingly.

  She spins and shoves my back against the railing, and then hurls me into the depths of Travis Lake.

  I groaned, pounding my head against my desk. If I’m going to feel so damned guilty about my sister-in-law, maybe I should just bang her again before confessing and she kicks me in the balls for deceiving her.

  Anyway, I am damned if I do screw her again and damned if I don’t.

  Oh, God! What will she think of me when she learns the truth?

  Chapter 53

  BRAD

  At the San Francisco Airport, I greet Jayden especially nice, even though he bumps into me on purpose.

  My brother steps back, clenching his fists.

  I laugh at his childish antics. “You look like you want to hit me. Chill out, brother, and admit that the Elvis wedding was a riot. I must have watched the DVD like nine times.”

  “If the wedding ceremony was so funny, why did you hit your bride, Brad? Did you give Vanessa a black eye before or after the honeymoon?”

  “Give me a break. You know how irritating your wife can be singing in that scratchy voice of hers.” I slap an envelope into his hand. “Proof I deposited the money just like you asked. I always pay my debts.”

  Jayden slips the envelope into his pocket without opening it to confirm the deposit.

  “Ah, you already checked with your bank. Money shouldn’t come between us, Dr. Tremblay.” Disappointment resonates in my voice because deep down inside I always wanted a brother and had longed for this to work out between us.

  “You proved to be untrustworthy, Dr. O’Boyle.”

  Now he is going to deliver a boring lecture about me firing Irene and hiring a teenager barely out of high school. I grin, ready with a retort about juicing up his boring life.

  “Vanessa is pregnant with your baby,” he hisses.

  I clutch my chest and stagger. I am about to have a heart attack and Jayden does not come to my aide! He is going to let me die at the San Francisco airport!

  “What do you plan to do about Vanessa? Divorce Ronni and make your marriage to Vanessa legal?”

  “The kid’s not mine,” I snarl and snatch my brother’s travel documents from his hand. “Don’t worry about Vanessa, dude. Brad is here to fix everything so you can come back to your humdrum life in Canada.”

  Jayden slaps me between the shoulder blades so hard that my chest caves in. “Call me when the deed is done. Take my advice, tell her the truth. Get an annulment or you just might be charged with bigamy.”

  Did my brother just threaten me?

  “Vanessa’s father is a hot shot in Vancouver who would slap your butt in jail if he found out what you did to his little girl,” he adds. Jayden spins and marches towards his gate.

  I flip a finger at his back and give a diabolical laugh. Okay, so I am a drama king and like special effects. Ka-pow! I was going to warn him but ha-ha, let my brother deal with whoever is trying to murder me in Austin. If Jayden dies, I have a life mapped out in Canada and an assumed name, Dr. Jayden Tremblay, only, what to do about Vanessa? She is like one of those bobbleheads you stick to a car dash. Like Jayden, the thought of being married to her makes me want to scream.

  The problem of Vanessa is still unsolved when I unlock the door to Jayden’s apartment. Thankfully, she has moved out, giving me time to think.

  On Jayden’s nightstand is a picture of my daughter Traci.

  Someone has left a nightstand drawer open and thrown a couple of other photos on the wood floor.

  One picture is of Ronni and Jayden at the Texas Doctors’ Ball, making me wonder if my wife is the reason Vanessa has left Jayden. She must have found the picture hidden in the drawer.

  Another picture confirms my theory that Ronni and Traci have somehow come between Jayden and Vanessa. The picture is of my brother, wife, and daughter at Sea World in San Antonio. Jayden is holding Traci in his arms and grinning at Ronni who smiles shyly back at him.

  Okay, so now my brother has taken over my family. Creep wants what I have instead of being happy with what I have given him, a wife of his own, and a baby on the way.

  I punch in Vanessa’s phone number and conjure my kindest Jayden voice. “I want you back, sweetheart. The pictures you found, well I discovered a twin brother. Brad is the one in the photo posing with his family.”

  “Oh, I thought the child was yours,” she says in a gullible voice.

  “There is only you, Vanessa.”

  I hold the phone away from my ear. “I’m coming right over so we can celebrate!” she sings.

  Two wives I can juggle with the experience of a man with a wife and mistress for six years, but two screaming brats?

  Think! Think! An annulment would have been easy but not to a pregnant woman.

  What to do? What to do?

  Vanessa’s car drives up and I run into the kitchen and hide.

  Chapter 54

  JAYDEN

  At Brad’s office, I was nervous about confessing to Ronni this evening.

  Just blurt the truth out about how you duped her, made a fool of her, and violated her person and trust in the worst way possible.

  I had picked a public place for my mea culpa. She would not kill me in front of witnesses, especially if she was drunk, wined, and dined.

  I cancelled the late afternoon appointments because my stomach twisted in knots, my old phobia about confrontation. I went to the gym and pumped especially hard, hoping to wring the anxiety from my tense muscles.

  I paused the treadmill and rubbed my eyes, sighing deeply. Last night I confessed that I was not the man she thought. When Ronni asked me who I was, instead of telling her the truth, I concocted the oldest lie known to man—if at a loss for words, say you love her so she’ll go easy on you when she learns you are a fraud. I had no idea what love m
eant. The only certainty was that if we showed up at the restaurant in two different cars, then we could leave separately if things did not go well.

  Brad’s cell phone rang and I answered, “Dr. O’Boyle.”

  “Cut the Dr. O’Boyle bullshit, Dr. Tremblay. It’s me, brother.” Brad sounded in a happier mood than yesterday. “Just wanted you to know that I got rid of Vanessa for you. You can come home now, Jayden.”

  “How did you ever manage so soon?” I squeaked.

  “Just be happy for small favors, old man. Vanessa is out of your life for good.” Brad laughed. “I should add, your annulled wife,” and he made a karate chopping sound, “will never bother you again. You can thank me later. By the way, I am waiting for my plane right now and booked a flight for you, even paid for the ticket myself. I owe you after all the trouble I put you through, marrying Vanessa and all. You better get going to the airport so Ronni doesn’t see us together in Austin.”

  “Ronni?” I screeched.

  “I’ll text your itinerary. We will rendezvous in San Francisco for our finale. See you tonight.” Click.

  With one phone call, Brad spoiled my intimate dinner with his wife where I planned to fess up. I did not have a good feeling about leaving. A vision of Brad slipping his wedding ring from his finger, dropping the gold band on a plate and showing Ronni how our masquerade began, sent ripples of anxiety up my spine.

  Then I panicked and decided to drive to Brad’s house and confess the truth to Ronni this instant.

  I dialed the house but no one answered, ditto for her cell phone.

  I thought of wandering around the university in the hopes of bumping into her.

  And where exactly is her class, you moron? The logical voice in my head pissed me off.

  What should my next step be? Allow Brad the opportunity to patch things up with Ronni? Try to break up my brother’s happy home? Confess to Ronni before Brad made up with her?

  Think. Think. Think. How do I handle this? Just fly back while Brad is home, ring his doorbell and say, “Hi, Bro. I have some unfinished business with your wife.”