And the light bulb went on

And then the light bulb went on above my head, like it does in cartoons when a character gets an idea or the answer to a question.

Holy shit -- my third child really wasn't mine -- she was the biological daughter of another man!

I was on the phone with a representative from Genealogy gurus.com, inquiring as to why my daughter's DNA test had not been processed after 10 weeks. I had given her the test as an extra Christmas present, and I had given the rep the pertinent numbers so they could track it down. After about a five-minute hold, he came back on the line and assured me the test had been processed. Beyond that, it was a matter of privacy between the company and the person who had actually submitted the test, and he couldn't give me any more information.

"But if you've processed it, then how come she is not showing up in my DNA matches?" I asked in an agitated manner.

"Sir, there are several reasons why your daughter might not be showing up in your DNA matches, but I am not at liberty to discuss that particular test with you," he answered in a somewhat exasperated tone.

And that's when the light bulb went on. Obviously, the number one reason for her not showing up in my matches is because she is not a match.

I ended the call in a daze. I remember hitting the red "end call" button, then I remember starting to cry. I woke up a few minutes later curled up in a fetal position on the family room sofa.

I still had 15 minutes left of my lunch break, so I called my daughter, who was probably also on her lunch break as she worked in the same time zone as I did. I know she usually curled up with a book at her desk for lunch, so I wasn't worried I was interrupting anything. She picked up on the first ring.

"Hey, Dad, what's up?" she said somewhat guardedly.

"Pumpkin, you know I love and trust you completely, but I know what's going on with the DNA test," I bluffed. "I called Genealogy Gurus, and they told me it had been processed about two weeks ago."

There was a sound of air being sucked in on her end, then silence for at least 10 seconds.

"I know, Dad, We need to talk, but I can't do this here and now. Call me tonight, and don't be in the room with Mom when you call."

I was in a fog as I drove back to my office, and I have to admit, I didn't give my boss a productive afternoon at the engineering firm where I worked. There were so many things going through my mind, so many questions. And the thought that my little girl wasn't MY little girl.

Being the analytical sort that I am, I knew I had to prioritize my thoughts, and then work through the problems one at a time. I wasn't a vice president of engineering at Sickafoose Electronics for nothing, and at this point I knew the best thing for me was to treat my personal problems like they were project problems, and take them down in an orderly fashion. The "Old Man" -- Dwayne Sickafoose -- had taught me that himself when he hired me directly out of Purdue University to work for his then fledgling company. With Dwayne at the helm and me never too far away from his right hand, Sickafoose had grown into an industry leader, and we both profited handsomely.

I made great money, had great benefits, and worked with excellent, sharp people. And then it got even better when I went home at night, where I had a beautiful, sexy wife and three wonderful children. Eventually, the children grew up, left home, got married and started having kids of their own. It was a little lonely at first around the house as empty-nesters, but we found plenty to keep us busy, and, it seemed to me that being alone again revitalized us as a couple.

But thinking back over the last month of my life, several small incidents now stood out to me, including a phone call Marissa made to my wife about two weeks ago. We were both sitting in the family room watching TV on a Tuesday evening, when Traci's phone rang. She looked at it and told me it was Marissa, and then answered. The conversation went on for about five minutes, with Traci giving yes and no answers almost exclusively, and I could see tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

When she hung up, I asked if everything was all right, and she told me that Marissa's cat was having some health problems. Nothing to worry about, she said, although I noticed she seemed a little jumpy around me. I thought it was a little strange that she was taking the health of Marissa's cat so personally.

That phone call must have been when Marissa found out. Traci didn't know about me sending Marissa the test. I didn't think it was even noteworthy. Marissa was the only one of the three kids who had any curiosity about genealogy, so I bought a kit online and had it sent to her. I have been researching my family roots for years off and on, and I really liked the DNA testing portion of it. I though Marissa getting a test was going to be great. Apparently I couldn't have been more wrong about that.

When I got home I tried my best not to act any different toward Traci, although I was boiling on the inside.

"Work one problem at a time; one problem at a time," I kept repeating to myself.

I met Traci at Purdue in my sophomore year. We didn't date until our senior year, but we've been inseparable since then -- or so I thought. We got married a year out of college, 31 years ago, and up until today I would have told anyone it was the best decision I ever made. She is still beautiful at 54, and despite having had three kids, she works out regularly and has the body of a woman in her mid-30s. She is both fun and funny, and up until today I had looked forward to spending the rest of my life with this woman.

At about 8 I told Traci I needed to call the "Old Man" about a project we were working on, and excused myself from the room. In fact, I grabbed a jacket and went outside to the porch swing to I could talk without worrying about Traci hearing, then I called Marissa.

Marissa answered on the first ring, and sounded absolutely distraught.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I know I should have told you earlier, but Mom asked that I not say anything until she had a chance to talk to you first," she blurted out before I could even say hello.

"I'm not mad at you. Calm down," I said as soothingly as I could. "I'm not accusing you of anything. You're just as much a victim as me."

I could hear her breathing heavily over the phone. I knew this was killing her.

"Ris, I want you to know that this doesn't change anything at all between us. I'm still your father and you're still my Pumpkin. I have always given you kids every ounce of love that I have, and after all this time I'm not about to stop now -- assuming you don't want me to stop."

She fell to pieces at that point, blubbering almost incoherently into the phone.

"I love you, Daddy. I don't want anyone else but you."

"That's my Pumpkin. Look, I don't want to put you in the middle, but you are my best source of information on the DNA thing. We won't discuss the other thing so you aren't in the middle, but I need to know, did you have any DNA matches?"

"Yeah, Dad, I did," she sighed. "Amanda Anderson came up as my half-sister."

"Mandy? Uncle George and Aunt Jeannie's Mandy? Ah, holy shit!"

"I'm sorry, Daddy," she said quietly.

"Not your fault, Pumpkin. You don't need to apologize to me, ever," I said as calmly as possible.

That meant that George Anderson, Uncle George to my kids, Appellate Court Judge George Anderson to most of the rest of the world, was Marissa's biological father. Shit fuck! That meant my wife was fucking her boss when he was an attorney in the law firm Gooey Howe and Associates. That meant at least 25 years ago, considering Marissa was 24 years old. Traci would have been his admin at that time. He left the firm to become a state judge a few years later, moving to the state capital, before his career really took off.

For her part, Traci didn't move on with George, choosing instead to stay with Gooey Howe and eventually winding up as office manager. But for the few years George and Traci worked together, he and his wife, Jeannie, became good enough friends that our kids still call them "uncle" and "aunt," and their kids call me and Traci the same. And several times when I had been gone on a business trip, Traci and the kids would visit with George and Jeannie for a few days at their lake house ... oh shit! The kids had even talked several times about Aunt Jeannie taking them here or there ... no mention of Uncle George or Mom being with them, and I didn't even think twice about it. God damn!

I must have spaced off at that point, because I heard Marissa calling me, "Daddy? Daddy?"

"I'm sorry, Pumpkin. I was lost in my thoughts. Thanks for your help, Kid. Give my best to Drew."

"Wait, Daddy. What are you going to do?"

It was a legitimate question, but I didn't have a good answer, so I just told her the truth.

"Not sure, Kid." "Well, don't go off and do something incredibly stupid, Dad. A little stupid's okay, but don't get yourself arrested or anything."

I hadn't thought about shooting Traci until that point, but I promised Marissa I wouldn't get arrested, so I guess that took shooting out of the equation. I don't break promises to my kids, ever.

Getting Marissa reassured about our relationship was my number one task, and finding out who Traci's partner in crime was became the second task. Task number three would be getting the ball rolling on my divorce after finding a new attorney, because my current one belongs to the firm Traci works at. That certainly wasn't going to work. Once I had a good sit-down with an attorney, I would deal with the future ex-Mrs. Clark Walters.

Things at home were chilly. Whenever we were together, Traci was chattering like a magpie; I'm guessing out of sheer nerves. She seemed to be trying real hard to keep me happy, figuring that might lessen the impact when I found out. I don't know. But there was definitely a distance between us, and she wasn't going to be the one to break the ice.

I met with an attorney about a week later, and when he found out my wife was office manager at Gooey Howe, he got this real nervous look on his face. So I moved on to the next attorney on my list, a 20-something woman, who just smiled when I mentioned that Traci was the Gooey Howe office manager. That's what I was looking for, someone who wasn't going to be intimidated when one of Gooey's big attorneys stepped up to the plate to represent my wife.

I laid out what little I knew about the cheating scenario, starting, of course, with finding out that my youngest child wasn't mine biologically, and finding out that she was Judge Anderson's kid.

"Appellate court Judge Anderson?" asked my attorney, one Marie Robinette.

"The very same," I replied, watching her face to see if I needed to find another lawyer.

"This should be good," was all she said back, and then we started discussion of breaking down the financials.

As we both had good jobs with pensions and good benefits, Marie suggested we should just split the joint assets down the middle, keep our own pensions, and sell the house. That would leave both of us well off, although I would be in a little better position because I had a bigger income and better pension.

"Unless you really want to squash her, due to the infidelity thing, the kid thing, or just the general lack of respect thing," she added in quickly, looking for a brief moment like she might just jump up on the conference table to try to right the wrongs done to me.

"We'll have our reckoning, of that I'm sure, but I don't want to hurt her financially," I replied.

"What about the judge? Are we going after him for anything? Because if we are, that's going to get a lot more dicey, and going to run up your bill quite a bit."

"The judge is my problem, and I'll take care of that as I see fit," I snapped, perhaps a little too curtly.

"Got it," she replied.

"If she doesn't fight it, this could take six months," Marie noted. "If she does fight it, we could be talking more than a year."

"I don't have any dates lined up just yet, so take your time and get it right," I told her.

With task three out of the way, it was now time for task four: the showdown.

I waited another week, just to see if Traci's head would explode in the meantime. Saturday night was our usual date night, then we would come home, watch a movie, and make love. But Saturday sex was always special, because we would go to bed early so we had plenty of time for what usually was a night of screaming orgasms for my wife as I usually brought her to about 10 orgasms with my hands and mouth before I entered her. We were both usually exhausted when we were done, and would just cuddle together for a good while before getting up to clean up.

We hadn't done date night in two weeks, though, and hadn't had sex in the same amount of time, because I just couldn't bring myself to do it after finding out about the affair and Marissa. Traci never even questioned it, another sign that she knew I knew, but she was really good at the coy act.

That was about to end, however. I took her out to a nice French restaurant, we split a bottle of wine, and even had great desserts. She was happier than I'd seen her look in recent weeks. Then when we got home, I gently removed her coat from her body, led her over to the kitchen table, pulled out a chair for her and said those famous words, "We need to talk."

Traci sort of half-smiled at me as I poured myself a Jack Daniels over ice and offered her something from the liquor cabinet, which she gently turned down. I set my drink on the table, looked her square in the eyes and said, "The floor is yours."

"It was a long time ago, Clark. George and I haven't slept together in about 20 years. Can't we just leave it as a mistake from the long-ago past, and let it go at that?"

Well, I have to admit I was glad she didn't try to say the DNA test was faulty, but to try to ease out of it by saying it was so long ago it shouldn't matter anymore? Really?

"Okay, you last had sex together about 20 years ago. When did you start having sex, how often, and why did you finally stop? I want all of it. But first off, I need to know if child number one and child number two are his, too."

"No, Clark. Barry and Katie are yours. I didn't even sleep with George until about a year after Katie was born. The affair lasted about three years at the start, then we stopped when George decided to leave the firm and move up the judicial ranks. He waited about a year after we stopped to go for his first judge position, because he wanted to make sure a background check would show he was 'clean.' And then after that we only made love a few times at the lake house, when Jeannie would innocently take all the kids for an afternoon of fun. Jeannie didn't know either at the time, although George eventually told her, and the three of us later had a peace pow-wow, at which both George and I promised her there would be no more sex.

"How come you never told me and tried a peace pow-wow with me? What am I, fucking chopped liver?" I asked harshly.

Traci wiped her hands on her sleeves and answered, "I knew I could never tell you. You'd divorce me in a heartbeat, and I certainly didn't want that. I loved you; still love you."

"You just apparently loved George more," I said. "To start and stop at his command, without giving me a thought. I was your fallback."

"No, Clark, I love you with all my heart!" she pleaded.

"No, you loved him with all your heart. You loved him so much that you gave him up so he could pursue his career dream, all the while knowing I was your back-up plan. You might have loved me somewhat at that point, but you knew I absolutely fucking worshiped the ground you walked on, and you counted on that and our family to get you over losing him."

Traci dropped her eyes to her lap. The truth hurt, and I knew I nailed it.

"But what about Marissa? Obviously, he was doing you bareback, and you had to know where that could lead -- and did lead."

"I just figured that since both of you had brown hair, brown eyes, and light skin, nobody would ever be the wiser as to whose child she was. And I knew you wouldn't have any reason to think she wasn't yours, so when she came out looking like me anyway, I didn't need to ever worry about that -- until you went and sent her that damn DNA test. I honestly never knew before that."

"So this is my fault?" I asked incredulously.

"No. George and I had discussed the possibility, but I told him he didn't have to worry since you two had similar physical characteristics. Last I knew, he didn't know either, but I'm sure by now Mandy has filled him in. I haven't heard from him in at least a couple of years, since we had them at Marissa's wedding to Drew two years ago.

"Well, regardless of who knows what, Marissa is still mine as far as I'm concerned, and that's what I told her. I'm on the birth certificate, I raised her, I love her, she's mine. George better not be getting any ideas on that, and if he calls, you better tell him that.

"And, by the way, I'm having the other two kids DNA tested as soon as possible. I need to know for my own peace of mind."

"Clark!" Traci hissed. "I told you they were yours."

"And you expect me to trust you ... why?" I snapped back.

As much as anything, Traci was completely taken aback by my newfound lack of trust. What the fuck did she expect. But I know it also bothered her greatly that I would be telling the other two kids about her infidelity. No one wants to look like a slut in front of your own children.

"So how often were you two going at it, and where? Finish the narrative for me, at least," I chided.

"We didn't plan this, Clark. It just sort of happened. We spent so much time together working, and then we became friends, and it sort of grew from there. He was kind, considerate, witty, funny, passionate ... you know the man ... and we connected on a deeper level. But since we had spouses we both loved, we kept it to a relative minimum, and moved our meeting locations around, usually just outside of the city. No, we never met up here, or at his home. That would have been wrong on several levels."

"But that didn't stop you two from fucking around a few times at the lake house, after the affair was supposedly over, while Jeannie was out for an afternoon with the kids," I mused out loud.

"No, it didn't," she practically whispered to me. "But I swear to you, we haven't been intimate since then."

"And Jeannie knows all of this, and has forgiven both of you?" I asked, shaking my head in disbelief.

"Yes, I told you."

"I don't think I can," I blurted out, the sound of my voice being rasp with raw emotion.

"We know what we did was wrong, Clark, but it's been over for 20 years already, and you were never hurt by this while it was going on, so can't we just go back to the way things were a few weeks ago? You were my loving husband, I'm your loving wife. Nothing has to change."

"But it already has changed, Traci," I said. "I've spent the better part of three weeks wondering what I did wrong that you fell in love with another man, and wondering if I would ever trust you completely again, let alone trust you enough to stay married to you.

"I gave you my heart completely, and you put it in your pocket and took it out when it was convenient for you. This wasn't supposed to be a marriage of convenience. It was supposed to be a marriage of full-time, all-out love."

Traci started to cry at that point. I hate it when she does that, and I usually will try to comfort her, but this time was different. I went into the family room and flipped on the TV, leaving her at the kitchen table.

We slept in the same bed that night, but for the first time in recent memory, we didn't sleep up against each other. I moved as far away from her as I could get in the queen-size bed, and stopped her from sliding over to me when she got in. The look on her face was both shock and pain. I didn't care.

Traci cooked us a nice breakfast Sunday morning, and while we were eating, I brought up the subject of divorce.

"The affair was over 20 years ago! You didn't even know about it, for Christ's sake. It's done, now let's just move on with our lives," she practically screamed at me.

"Wrong is still wrong, no matter how long ago it was," I yelled back at her. "You deceived me, you lied to me, you cheated on me, and you broke my trust. Those are not time-sensitive issues!"

I got up from the table, leaving half my plate of food, and went outside to mow the lawn. That was the last I spoke to Traci until dinnertime Wednesday, when she told me that Jeannie Anderson would be joining us this coming weekend. Needless to say, I was not happy, but Jeannie was an old, dear friend and endured the same cheating I did, so I figured I owed her the courtesy of a chat.

Jeannie showed up Friday night at 6 after a two-hour drive from her house. She did not bring George with her. Traci had made stuffed flank steak with mashed potatoes, and I had picked up a couple of bottles of Merlot to go with that. The conversation was light and friendly during dinner, then we retired to the family room with our wine glasses for what I presumed was the main event.

Jeannie started out by talking about the affair as if it were a history subject, very sterile and quiet, but as she talked further she got more emotional, and she and Traci both got tears in their eyes.

"When George told me about the affair, I guess it had already been over for a couple of years, and he promised me that it would never happen again," Jeannie said. "I have to admit, though, I was devastated at first, but the more I got to thinking about it, the more I realized that since it was over before I even knew about it, I guess I wasn't hurt too badly. And since I knew Jeannie wasn't some kind of gold-digger, I guess I could see how it could happen. George's personality is kind of magnetic, isn't it?

"Although I didn't know about Marissa until a few weeks ago, when everybody found out about it, I guess. I really am sorry about that, Clark."

Jeannie never mentioned the few times Traci and George hooked up after the main affair ended, at the Anderson's lake house. I wondered to myself if they even told her about that. I didn't bother to go there. But I did think to myself that George must be a great lawyer, because Jeannie was almost apologetic for George having the affair, instead of being upset at him.

Unfortunately for Traci, I am not wired the way Jeannie is, nor am I that taken by her oratory, because I wasn't ready to give Traci and George the pass that Jeannie had, even if the affair had been over for 20 years.

"I just think back to what my life would have been like had I left him, and how things would be so different for me and the girls," she continued. "They say you should always consider whether your life would be better or worse if you leave your spouse, and I just know mine would have been worse."

"Thanks for sharing that with me, Jeannie. It's certainly food for thought. I'm definitely going to have to consider that, although there are several factors for me to consider -- including the fact that unlike you, I wasn't told about the affair -- I found out about it quite by accident.

"Traci knew it was wrong when she did it, and she knew what my reaction was going to be. So she figured it was apparently best for all concerned if I never knew, and just lived in ignorant bliss. And that's what it would have been except for the test.

"So now, 20 years later, I find out that the center of my world loved another man and was intimate with him, and then was a saint and gave him up for his career, falling back to me by default. That about right, Traci?"

My wife hadn't said anything during Jeannie's discourse. She just sat there calmly while Jeannie spun her tale. She was sneaking peeks my way the whole time, trying to judge my reaction. She didn't know that I knew she was watching, so I sat impassively while Jeannie talked, just to drive Traci a little nuts.

My reaction to Jeannie's story was not what Traci wanted, nor Jeannie for that matter. They looked at each other with pain in their eyes. I just shook my head and went into the kitchen, poured myself another glass of wine, went back to the family room, and flipped on the big screen, indicating to both that I was done talking for the night. The women took the hint and moved into the living room, where I could hear them talking softly. When whatever it was that I was watching was finished, I shut the TV, poked my head into the living, said my good-nights, and headed up the stairs to our bedroom.

Jeannie cornered me alone in the family room on Saturday and said we needed to talk. I had no idea where Traci was, but I said OK, and we retired to the formal living room and sat down on two chairs in a corner.

"Clark, I do understand your pain, I really do, but not forgiving Traci and divorcing her would be a terrible mistake for both of you," Jeannie began. "You love her and she loves you. That should be all that matters. The rest is history, and for you two to spend the rest of your lives apart for what happened 20 years ago would be terrible.

"If I can forgive George, surely you can forgive Traci."

"I honestly don't know if I can, Jeannie. Like I said yesterday, I wasn't told about the affair, you were. I wasn't told because she knew it was wrong, and I wouldn't have forgiven her then. Why should I forgive her now? She deceived me for 20 years. She had an affair for several years, and deceived me for 20 more years. How can I ever forgive her? How can I ever trust her again?"

I shook my head, got up and left the room, passing Traci in the hallway. She was well aware of the discussion I just had with Jeannie, and she could see by the look on my face that I wasn't budging an inch.

Dinner Saturday night was a very quiet event. The women tried to make small talk. I wasn't having any of it. I didn't say three words throughout the course of the meal. After a quick thank you, I grabbed a jacket and headed out, telling the pair I'd be at Malone's, my favorite place for a quiet drink.

When I got to Malone's, Ronnie, the woman who owned the bar, was schmoozing with some other customers over in a far corner. Instead of taking a spot at the bar as I usually do when I go in, I sat at a table by myself, feeling miserable and, apparently, looking even worse. Marnie, the bartender, walked over with my usual Crown Black on ice, and made a comment to the effect that I looked like my dog just died.

"Sort of, but nothing quite as important as my dog. Just my marriage," I chuckled lamely.

Marnie went over to Ronnie and whispered something in her ear. Ronnie excused herself from the customers at the far end and came over to me, sitting opposite me at my table.

"OK, Superman, spill," she said.

Ronnie was about my age, a somewhat large woman of Irish descent with freckles and red hair, which she wore like a badge. She didn't take shit from anyone, but just in case anyone did give her shit, her husband, Moose, was cooking in the back. Moose stood about 6-3 and weighed 280, and was a former Marine drill sergeant. Malone's wasn't a rough place, but, well, in a bar things could occasionally get out of hand, but I only saw that happen once. The offender gave Ronnie lip, and when she lipped back, he wasn't smart enough to shut his mouth. Moose clocked him with one punch, then held the dumbass on the floor with his foot until the cops arrived to clean him up.

Ronnie called me Superman because of my name. Said it reminded her of Clark Kent, and she swore to everyone that while I was nice guy with a good job, she wouldn't want to see me get mad. We always had a good laugh over that. I'd been coming into Malone's for 20 years, sometimes with Traci, sometimes without, sometimes to eat, sometimes just to drink. Ronnie and Moose got to know both Traci and I well, and she could read people -- including me -- pretty good. She was like the sister I never had.

"Traci and I are done," I started.

I hadn't told anybody to that point, and I've got to admit, it felt good to finally get it off my chest.

"I found out she cheated on me with her boss about 20 years ago. Not just once, not just several times, but for four fucking years. Any my youngest, Marissa, is his!

"And she thinks that because it was so long ago and I didn't know it when it was happening, I should just accept it and move on. She says she loves me, always has, and doesn't want to get divorced."

"That little cheating bitch!" Ronnie exclaimed. "How dare she!

"You're not going to just puss out on that and let her stay, are you? If that happened with me and Moose, he'd have my ass strapped to the wall, and the guy's skin would be hoisted up alongside."

It was good to hear that Ronnie agreed with me. I very much valued her common sense, no-nonsense way of looking at things, and had she thought differently, it would definitely have made me rethink my position.

"Look, Superman, it's as much a matter of respect as anything. I love Traci, no I loved Traci, but her deception was certainly not done out of love -- and certainly not done out of respect. How could she let you think another man's child was yours for all these years!"

I explained the Marissa thing to Ronnie, pointing out that she didn't really know for sure, but Ronnie wanted none of that, pointing out that not getting the child tested was a convenient way of saying she didn't want to know.

"Has she ever apologized for the affair, or has she just said she's sorry for hurting you?"

Damn. This woman was good.

"She's never apologized for the affair. I don't even think she's really ever apologized for hurting me. I think the only thing's she's really every apologized for was me finding out," I said.

"I can't tell you what to do, Superman, but I think she's already told you what you need to do. I'm sorry, Clark. The Crown's on me and Moose tonight. The rest of the bottle is yours, and we'll call you a cab at the end of the night. Hand me your keys."

I did as I was instructed.

The cab driver poured me into my house at about 2 a.m. Traci met us at the door, and helped guide me up the stairs to our bedroom. I fell into bed fully clothed. Traci took off my shoes and socks, and that's how I slept.

Late Wednesday afternoon I got a call from my son at the office. He wanted to talk to me about the situation with Traci. He didn't say it, but apparently Traci figured she needed to call in the heavy hitters -- the kids -- to dissuade me from the divorce. My son and I are usually on the same wavelength on most things, but I could tell from talking to him that Traci did a lot of leaning, and it paid dividends, because he was most definitely seeing her side of this divorce thing.

"Dad, divorcing Mom would be the stupidest thing you've done since you wore a leisure suit in the '70s," he tried to joke with me. "Seriously, Dad. A divorce. For something she did 20 years ago, which you didn't even find out about until a few weeks ago.

"This is the woman you said you loved and wanted to spend the rest of your life with, just a few weeks ago. And now you're ready to throw that all away, and probably live the rest of your life by yourself, for a mistake. Seriously, Dad?"

"First off, Barry, a mistake would be what she made the first several times she had sex with him. After a few months, it's a decision, not a mistake.

"And what would you do if you found out Linda was cheating on you? Rip her head off, probably."

"But you didn't catch her. It's been over for 20 years."

"The physical act has been over. The deception, the lack of respect continued," I coolly replied.

"Barry, I thought you were smart enough to stay out of this, and not take sides. But you've apparently jumped in where no kid should -- get in between his or her parents. And for what, Barry? I'm not going to change my mind. I'm the injured party here, and you're just pissing me off. I put that woman up on a pedestal. I worshiped the ground she walked on, and she knew it. She never intended telling me, and if it wasn't for an accident, I would have gone to my grave worshiping her, while she just used me as a second choice when the man she loved the most wouldn't marry her. Do I feel used, Sonny. You bet I do."

"Dad, aren't you being a little dramatic here?"

I think he was still talking as I hung up the phone.

Traci had what smelled like a good meal just about ready when I walked in the door at about 6 p.m. She didn't look happy when I told her I wasn't hungry, poured some Jack into a glass, flipped on the TV and sat down in my favorite recliner. She came in and asked me what was wrong.

"Same shit, different day. Wife cheats on me for four years, has a kid by the other guy, and now my children are telling me that I'm the bad guy here. Do me a favor. Call Katie tonight and tell her not to call me tomorrow, unless she wants to get hung up on like Barry."

Traci put her eyes down. You would think after 31 years, she would know not to have other people piss me off on her behalf.

"What on God's green earth makes you think this divorce isn't going to happen?" I said, raising my voice. "Not only did you cheat on me for four years with another man and bear his child, but you replaced me in your heart with him! Can you sit here and tell me your weren't in love with him, and that if he would have asked you to divorce me and marry him, you wouldn't have done it? And there's the thing. You might love me, but you're not in love with me. You're in love with him. I'm just a safe back-up plan, because you've always known that you owned my heart, and I would do anything for you as long as I thought you were mine. You cheated on me, you deceived me, you disrespected me, and now you have the nerve to try to turn our kids against me. That was the last straw, Trace.

"But, no, I won't be cruel to you, and especially to Jeannie, and ruin George's wonderful career as a squeaky clean judge. I will file for irreconcilable differences, and we can each keep our own retirement accounts, and split the house and everything else down the middle.

The tears were rolling down Traci's cheeks fast and furious, and as she got up from her chair, I threw one more thing at her.

"You've still never told me you were sorry for cheating ... probably because you're not sorry, which at least is honest. The only thing you are sorry about is that I found out, isn't that right?"

I spent the rest of the night hugging my bottle of Jack.

I called my attorney the next day and told her she needed to get the divorce papers ready as soon as possible. She told me I could view them the next Tuesday, she could get them ready to go on Wednesday and Traci could be served on Thursday. I told her to get her server over to my house on that Friday evening. I wanted to be there when she was served.

Then I called over to Judge George Anderson's office, and told his admin I needed him to call me back on an important matter. He would know exactly why I was calling, and I knew he would call me back as soon as possible.

George seemed a little anxious when he returned my call about two hours later. Yes, he knew exactly why I was calling, although he didn't think he wanted to do this at his office. I totally agreed, and told him I would drive down to meet him at his and Jeannie's home on the following Saturday at 10 a.m. He didn't know that Traci wasn't going to be served the night before, although I'm sure he would certainly know it by the time I made the two-hour drive to his palatial home.

Over dinner at Malone's on Saturday night Traci admitted that Jeannie had called her and told her about my meeting with George the next Saturday. She wanted to know if I'd like some company on the drive.

"This is not a social call, Traci," I said. "George and I have some things to talk about, and you don't need to be there."

"You might want to remember he's an appellate court judge with an excellent reputation, who might even be on a short list for Supreme Court justice some day. Doing some macho-shit thing with him might get you arrested, and besides, you promised me you wouldn't do anything to hurt his career."

"That's right, choose him over me once again. But don't worry, I intend to keep my promise. I won't do anything that might get him taken off the short list of potential Supreme Court justices. God forbid. The show must go on."

After filling in the Old Man at the office about what was going on in my life, I took a couple of personal hours and met with my lawyer to check over the divorce papers. I gave her the go-ahead. As I turned to leave, she asked me if I had any plans for Judge George.

"Now why would you worry about that?" I asked, giving her a wink.

"Because I also still handle some criminal cases, and I figure you just might need a good attorney. You engineers don't seem to get too emotional about a lot of things, but I know you're wound pretty tight, and your methodical approach to things scares me."

She handed me her card, and I left the office.

Time went quickly the next three days. We were on a big project at the office, and that enabled me to concentrate on something other than my life. The Old Man even told me he was amazed at how focused I was despite the turmoil in my life. I told him I was pleased at least something was going right. But on Friday night before I left, I told him about Traci being served and me facing George, and I warned him that if things went sideways, I might be in jail on Monday. He assured me he had my back ... and my bail money. We left on a handshake.

I came home to yet another wonderful-smelling meal being prepared by Traci. She had been out-doing herself recently trying to get me to focus on her many skills. She was indeed a great cook. I almost felt guilty because I knew what was coming after dinner.

We ate our meal mostly in silence, as we had been doing for the last few weeks, although I made sure to tell her just how wonderful the meal was. I'm not an ungrateful bastard, after all. I then helped her clear the dishes, but as we were getting ready to head into the family room for that evening's TV viewing, the doorbell rang. It was almost straight up 7.

I knew it wasn't for me, so I didn't move to get it. Traci gave me a funny look, then went to the door and answered it. A well-dressed young man was on the porch, and he asked Traci if she was Traci Walters. When she answered affirmatively, he handed her a manila envelope, said, "You have been served," turned on his heel, and left. Traci never moved from the spot she was standing in, but I could see by the shake of her shoulders she was crying. I walked past her, closed the front door, and guided her by her shoulders back to the kitchen table. She looked completely stricken, despite the fact that I had told her this was going to happen.

We sat there in silence for what seemed like an eternity, but was in reality probably only five minutes. She finally muttered, "You bastard," and ran upstairs to our bedroom. I didn't follow her. The toughest part was done.

For one of the few times since we were married, I didn't sleep in the same bed as Traci that night. I went into the bedroom we had fixed up as a guest room and slept there, although calling it sleep was generous. I had made the break from the woman that up until a few weeks ago I considered the light of my life, my soul mate, my everything. Despite everything that had gone on, we had still slept in the same bed, I guess neither of us wanting to be the one to make the move. But now it was over, at least in my mind.

I got up and showered, and when it was time to get dressed I very quietly went into the bedroom and got what I needed, trying very hard not to wake Traci and maybe start something. I didn't look to see if she was asleep; I just got my clothes and left. I went casual -- collared sheet, decent pair of Levi's, and my custom metal-tipped cowboy boots that I had made for me when we had visited our son at his home in Dallas.

I left a little earlier than I really needed to. I didn't want to be late for this meeting. If I got there early, I could always kill some time at a coffee shop, which is what I wound up doing. I was standing on George and Jeannie's porch at straight-up 10, ringing the bell.

Jeannie, looking beautiful as usual but extremely nervous, answered the door.

"I'm sorry it has to end like this," was all I could say as she leaned in for a hello hug. She didn't reply back. She took my hand and led me to the den, where George had all his mementos and photos arranged around the room. George was sitting in his favorite recliner, but as we entered he stood up in front of the chair.

"Hello, Clark."

"Hello, George."

Jeannie looked downright scared as she left the room.

We stood about six feet apart, looking at each other. This was a man I considered almost an older brother at one time, we were that close. George was two years older than me, about the same size, but soft living these past 20 years had given him about 30 more pounds, about 20 in his round stomach. We had shared our hopes and our dreams with each other, we had partied together, fished together, hunted together. I was proud to call him my friend, proud of where his judicial career had taken him.

Now, standing in front of me, sizing me up with his eyes, he was no longer a friend, but a foe: the man who had stolen my wife's love, impregnated her with his child, and ruined my life. Suddenly, I was enraged.

"You get to keep my wife's heart, you fucker!" I yelled at him. "You get to keep your squeaky clean image, too, because I promised Traci I'd never tell anyone about this, and I don't break my promises to that woman. But you don't get to keep your balls!"

I took a long, quick stride forward with my left leg at that point, then I planted and drove my right leg forward and up, going for that 50-yard field goal with my target being his aforementioned testicles. George reacted even slower than I anticipated, and my metal-tipped boot hit the target square and solid. I felt his balls crush as I drove my leg up as high as I could, then I heard him shriek like a wounded animal. He collapsed onto the floor holding his gonads with his hands, screaming like a stuck pig.

Jeannie came running into the room at that point, saw her husband on the floor, and ran to him. He continued to scream in agony, and there really wasn't anything she could do to comfort him. She looked over at me in anguish. I took my cellphone out of my pocket and dialed 911.

"There's been an accident at Judge George Anderson's house," I said. "We need an ambulance at this location."

I turned on my heel and headed toward the door, but before I could get there, Jeannie had grabbed my right arm. I thought I might have to hit a woman, but instead of being hysterical and angry, she had a calm look on her face. She hugged me tightly, and whispered, "Thank you. We know what we have to do."

I hugged her back, left the house, got into my car and drove home, knowing that the cops weren't going to come for me. Jeannie completely got it, and would explain it to her husband some day in the future when he could think straight.

The drive home was cathartic; or maybe it was the kick to his nuts. I really don't know, but after several months of having my heart ripped out on a daily basis, I now felt free. It's funny, but once I finally came to grips with Traci's cheating, her grip on my heart lessened, and then I was able to think clear enough to do what was the right thing for me. It might not have been the right thing for everybody concerned, but sometimes you just have to take care of yourself. That's what everybody else had done for the last 20 years, so why not me now.

Yes, I knew a part of me would always love Traci, but I wasn't going to spend any more time examining the affair. It was not of my making, nor of my choosing. It was time to move forward.

When I got home, I went down to the basement, got a couple of suitcases and headed up to our bedroom. I passed Traci sitting in the family room, and she followed me up to the bedroom.

"So this is it then?" she asked. "Just like that. Thirty-one years and out the door?"

"Traci, I'm sorry that you're so wrapped up in yourself that you can't see how YOU HAVE WRONGED ME. How you STOLE 24 years of my love with your deceit. You can't see it and you probably never will.

"I've made my peace with it, though, and I don't hate you. I don't even hate George, although right now the poor bastard probably thinks so. I'll make my peace with Barry and Katie sometime in the future. You might consider making YOUR peace with Marissa as soon as possible. The poor girl is a mess.

"Sign the paperwork, Traci, and let's get this thing done. I'll get the rest of my stuff out of here in the next few days.

"I don't think we really need to talk anymore. If you have anything else to say to me, I've put my lawyer's card on the kitchen table."

She stood there in shock, tears in her eyes but no words forthcoming. I picked up my suitcases, went downstairs, and put them in the truck of my car. I went back into the house, grabbed a few odds and ends and left. Thirty-one years, just like that.

Epilogue:

I lied. Apparently, George did get to keep one of his balls. It took some major surgery and months of pain, but they were able to save one of his testicles. I found that out from Marissa, who had been contacted by Jeannie looking for me. Jeannie didn't have my phone number, and nobody else in the family wanted to tell me that. Actually, nobody else in the family is still speaking to me, eight months later. I'm OK with it though.

The official word is that Judge George fell hard up against the corner of his ornate desk in his den, racked himself hard, then did it again when he fell to the floor. The press called it a "home accident" to be delicate about it, and did not report it was to his genital area. He received a lot of sympathetic press. I guess that won't hurt his placing on the Supreme Court short list.

Traci signed the divorce papers within a week, and the divorce was granted last week. The house will be sold at auction.

Traci hasn't tried to call me since I left. Barry and Katie haven't called either. I guess I won't be invited for the family Christmas dinner, wherever that is going to be.

The Old Man is turning the company over to me effective with the New Year as he retires. The deal is I have to run the company for seven years before I can retire a rich man with a very golden parachute. He'll find somebody to buy the company then, and I will get 10 percent of that deal as well.

I've started to venture out socially as well; I guess, I mean date. After being married forever, it's going to take a while for me to remember how it's done exactly. The word about the divorce traveled fast, though, and several of our divorced women friends have called inquiring about my interest. In fact, two or three of Traci's divorced friends have called, too, pointing out their surprise that she could ever let me get away. I have to admit, that felt good for my ego.

I've got a good life ahead of me, with challenges both professionally and personally. I'm working on getting some new hobbies going with the extra time I've got on my hands from the personal side of things. One hobby I've given up, though, is genealogy. Been there, done that.