Butter Pecan

“No. I guess I’ve mellowed. I still love the stupid bitch. And yeah, she probably loves me.”

I could barely hear Bobbie whisper “She does” before I continued.

“But marriage is about trust, and loyalty, too. She hurt me, and she broke that trust. She wasn’t loyal. I can’t stay married to her.” I was tearing up a bit. It was the pain, I swear.

“Ok, bro. I’ll get your shark in here on Monday. You put the female shark under retainer, right?”

“Yeah.” The conversation pretty much petered out with that, and after a little longer, Bobbie left me to the not-so-tender mercies of the Marquise de Sade, Nurse Maggie. Man, she was an evil harpy, torturing me for no reason. The tales of naughty nurses are not true, at least not around Maggie.

Late the next day the police returned to visit me in the hospital. It was the same pair, but this time there was something different in their look, a thoughtfulness that hadn’t been there the last time.

“Mr. Preston, I want to apologize to you. The last time we talked, you were a far-fetched suspect in a car theft.” Officer Lawrence started. I just nodded, for him to go on. “Earlier today, the 1969 Plymouth Barracuda in question was recovered, after a tip caused by a newspaper article about your attack. The owner of the storage unit realized that the car in question was in storage, and we’ve recovered a tape that seems to show it was ‘stolen’ by it’s owner, probably for insurance purposes.”

“That asshole stole his own car? Then why did he attack me over it?” I questioned; if I didn’t come off as totally fluid in my questions, I knew it would be blamed on the pain and being injured.

“Mr. Williams had a… relationship with your wife. We believe he was trying to get you arrested for the theft, so that he would have a clearer field to deepen the relationship. His attack on you was partially jealousy, and partially designed to focus more attention on you. Unfortunately for him, we have recovered the key to the storage unit from his car, and there is a video tape of him storing the car in the unit.”

“So it’s true. Marie was cheating on me with him. Did she know he was going to attack me?”

“Ah.. yes, she was having an affair with him. But we do not believe she was aware that he intended to attack you. The attack actually has backfired, because the news of it was what alerted the owner of the storage place, a Thomas Warner, someone who vouched for your whereabouts during the theft, in fact, to notify the police of the location of the car, when he discovered it had been reported stolen.”

“So, insurance fraud and framing me, then? That’s what he was trying to do, besides hurt me physically?”

“That’s what we believe to be the case. The DA is indicting him for assault with a deadly weapon, simple assault, insurance fraud, lying to the police, and every other charge they think can stick. Not sure how well all of that will go,” he chuckled “especially since most criminals lie to the police, but they’re throwing the book at him. He’s looking at a minimum of 8 years, and they’re trying for more everyday. Because he represents a clear danger to you, and a possible flight risk, they were able to deny bail for him on the assault charges. The additional charges will make it easier.”

We talked a few more minutes, and then they left. A few hours later, Marie showed up. She looked scared, and like she had been crying. I saw her, and just looked angry. I could let the anger and hurt I had felt out now, I could give voice to my pain. Yet I could see pain in her eyes, too, which surprised me at first. How could she be feeling pain over my pain, my hurt, my anger?

Eventually I realized she felt the pain because she knew she had caused it. Her actions had hurt me, had destroyed us, Hank and Marie, the golden couple (at least in our eyes) who would always be together, always in love, and who had been so in sync for so long.

“Bobbie asked me to give you space before I came to talk with you. I’m sorry, Hank. I don’t know why I did it. It wasn’t you. It was never your fault. And I never would have believed he would hurt you like that, or try to get you put in prison. I’m so sorry.”

What do you say to that? “The pain he put me in is nothing compared to the pain you’ve put me in, Marie. I wasn’t enough. I gave you my heart, my soul, and it wasn’t enough. I gave you my love, my faith, my trust, my fidelity. And it wasn’t enough. You’ve killed me, Marie. You’ve taken one of only two things that I have unshakable faith in and destroyed it. The only thing that you could have done to hurt me more was if it had been Bobbie. I need you to leave now, Marie. I love you too much to look at you knowing what you did to me.”

“I love you too, Hank. I know that you don’t believe it, but it’s true. I love you with all my heart, and all my soul. I’ll do whatever you ask; I made this hell I’ve put you and I into, and I’m going to accept that only you can ever get us out of it.” She left with a look of devastation on her face.

“And I still love you too, Marie.” I whispered after she was gone, the tears again falling on my face.

As Scarlett O’Hara said in ‘Gone with the Wind’, “Tomorrow is another day.” The next day was indeed another day; my new lawyers came in. That’s right, lawyers, plural. The female male advocate shark, Tamara Hughes, and another man, who she introduced as a Civil Suit lawyer, Mike Bass, that she worked with. She ran the discussion and instantly wanted to go nuclear on Marie. I had originally wanted that myself, but Marie’s brief appearance the day before muted that a bit, and coupled with my earlier conversation with Bobbie guaranteed a more mellow approach.

I decided that I wanted instead to just get an easy split, except she would get the house, and I would get a bigger portion of our savings. I didn’t want the house, not after he had defiled it, but I couldn’t find it in me to hurt her in revenge. I had loved her too much, too long, to want to hurt her more than I needed. I guess my anger and hurt was draining. Anger, hatred… it takes energy to keep that heat and fire going, and I just couldn’t keep that energy up enough.

My shark was a little disappointed that I wanted to be fair to her. I got the impression that some woman had hurt someone she cared about greatly, and she wanted others of her sex to suffer when they had wronged an innocent man, but I also think she understood.

And then the smile went wide when the subject of Jonathan Williams finally came up in the conversation. Bass spoke up on this one.

“We need to sue him for the injuries he caused. In fact, we should probably get an oar in the water fast so we can freeze assets before his trial, which will put a damper on how much he has for his defense, too. At a conservative side, I think we can get $300-$500K from him for your pain and suffering, his interference in your marriage, his attempt to frame you for the theft of his car, and the defamation and humiliation you suffered at your place of employment. If we get the right judge, it could go higher.”

“The car, too. I want his car. He took from me my most precious belonging, my wife, so I want his.”

And that’s when I heard Ms. Hughes started laughing. “Oh, yes, I like that idea. If I can’t go after the wife, the least I can do is help you crucify him.”

Marie was told she should go see Ms. Hughes a few days later, that there were papers to sign. Bobbie went in my stead, and told me later that she broke down and cried for ten minutes before picking up the pen. When she tried to sign, her tears had soaked so much into the papers that they needed to be reprinted for her to sign. It was rough hearing that. But Marie didn’t protest anything, didn’t object to anything, didn’t ask for anything. She had trusted me enough to sign the papers. Ninety days after signing, we would become single again. It was depressing.

19 days after the attack, the hospital finally sent me to a step down rehabilitation center, where I was expected to spend the next few weeks. The day I arrived there, a flower arrangement came with a single blue Hyacinth and a single daffodil; there was no card, in fact there was never a card, as identical arrangements came every three days after that. I don’t know what the symbolism was, and I actually can’t guarantee I know who sent them, though I suspect it was Marie.

After step-down, I went to live at Bobbie and Sue’s home, until I was fully able to function, and had a place of my own. Bobbie, Evan, and a few of my other friends had moved my stuff out of the house, and either taken it over to Bobbie’s or to a storage unit.

The lawsuit went quickly; I was surprised, as I had only been out of step down care for two weeks when the court date came up. When Sue told me that Bass had left papers about what to wear, when to be there, etc., I became nervous. I had not told either Ms. Hughes or Mr. Bass that I had, in fact, been involved, at least as a conspirator before the fact, in the theft of the car. I also knew that I really, really didn’t want to lie under oath, so I was very careful in what I signed in the paperwork; I really didn’t want to switch places with Asshole on which side of the court I was sitting on.

I didn’t need to fear too much, though. I was never called to testify; others were, since I was considered too injured by the traumatic events to be reliable. I expected Williams’ lawyer would have subpoenaed me, but he didn’t. That meant I never committed perjury, or had to say any “I don’t remember” things.

Of course, it really didn’t matter too much. The DA had denied Williams bail, due to his danger to me. While normally, that would mean that the lawyer would arrange a suit for the defendant, this one didn’t. So Williams was forced to sit there in blaze orange prison garb during the suit. I later found out the reason the attorney was making bad choices was because he had been the cheapest that Williams could find; he had assumed that the whole thing would get tossed out, or at least be done cheaply, so that he could husband his money for a good defense lawyer. Big mistake.

The whole suit took two days, much longer than I would have originally thought, because Bass insisted on getting a great deal of tertiary testimony and evidence put into the record. I didn’t understand why he was wasting the courts time by putting so many of my coworkers on the stand from the attack, or why so many of the folks from the Car Show tent were brought in, either, at least not until later.

It was a nasty trick my lawyers played on Williams. They had much of the damaging testimonials and evidence in the official record, where it could be used by the DA to help the criminal prosecution. The court rendered a verdict quickly as well, with the net result being a smashing win for me, more than I actually had asked for. It did not hurt that Williams was caught trying to hide assets, either.

I got, after the lawyers took their slice, $483K after taxes. And a brown 1969 Plymouth Barracuda. The car brought me more joy than the money, even though the money was nice and enough to have bought a couple cars as nice, including both the Mach 1 and the 63 split rear window Vette. I got nearly as much enjoyment, though, eight months later when the verdict was read on the criminal charges; Asshole ended up getting 11 years, way more than the 6-7 that Bobbie had first told me about.

I decided to actually go to the final court session of the divorce; by that point, I was walking, although still needing a cane, and was able to drive; I had driven the Barracuda that day, simply because I wanted a pick me up from the depression I was feeling at the dissolution of my marriage.

I’d never thought it would be possible that Marie and I weren’t together forever, not prior to the Butter Pecan incident. But here I was.

I walked into the court room with Ms. Hughes. She was attractive, I suppose, medium height, smaller bust, but a mini-Jenifer Lopez butt. Nice face, medium length hair (up, in what they call a “loose bun”). Yeah, I checked her out a bit. I’m a male. It’s what we do.

But she wasn’t what my heart wished for.

I looked across the court room, and saw Marie. She was wearing a light blue dress, pale tan pantyhose or stockings, and her black kitten heel shoes. She looked, as she always had, beautiful to me. Oh, she may not have been Hollywood beautiful. She may not have been Marilyn Monroe, but she might just be Mary Anne from Gilligan’s Island sexy. The only things marring her beauty were the hunched shoulders, no longer proudly projecting her breasts forward, the lines of worry and sorrow on her face, and the dull eyes, that no longer twinkled with the bright light that had shown in them when she looked at me before.

I wasn’t looking at my Marie; that woman didn’t exist anymore. I was looking at a different woman, one who didn’t have that fire I had loved. I was looking at a woman in mourning.

The judge brought the court to order, and started on our case. Tamara said a few words, little of which I heard. Marie’s lawyer said a few words, also little of which I heard, and then he said that Marie wanted say something to me, and to the court. I was surprised at that.

She stood up and looked at the judge. She smiled a weak smile, and then she turned and looked at me. Turning back to the judge, she started.

“Your honor, I was the luckiest woman in the world. I had a man who loved me, and who I loved. I had dreams, dreams of us starting our family soon. I dreamed of our children, and the love we would have. And then I destroyed those dreams. I made a mistake, and in a moment of weakness, I betrayed my husband to remind myself of a ‘what if’ from my past. Sometimes, the past should stay the past. It was my fault, not my husbands. I had a brief affair with an old boyfriend, and something changed, almost instantly, between my husband and I. I don’t know, even now, why he knew something was off, but he did. It really doesn’t matter, in the end. I set whatever it was to wrong. And it is my greatest shame, and my greatest regret.”

She looked at me then, turning away from the judge. “Hank, I want to let you know that I will never forgive myself for betraying you. I was weak, I was stupid, and I was wrong. I cannot undo it, and I know that you can never fully forgive me for what I did. I don’t want you to set me free, but I understand that you need to be free to heal and make yourself whole again. I will give you all that you ask for, willingly, like I once gave all of myself only to you. I know that if that was still true, you would still be mine, and I yours. But I messed it up. I hope, one day, you can find the forgiveness in your heart, the love you once had for me, to let me back into your life again. Know that if you do, I will always love you, and I will never hurt you again. And know that if you don’t, I will still always love you.”

Turning back to the judge, she added “Your honor, my husband has been more than fair, more than even, in treating me. The man I betrayed him with is in jail, on trial for a vicious attack on my husband, designed to free me to be with him. He tried to frame my husband for a crime. I cannot, I will not, allow Hank to be hurt that way, and I will not allow him to hurt any more for me. I beg you to sign the divorce petition and grant it for him, on whatever terms he offers. Please just don’t allow me to be the cause of anymore pain for him.” I could see the tears flowing down her cheeks. I know my own eyes were giving me trouble as well.

The judge pondered her request for a moment, and then questioned me. “So, Mr. Preston, are you sure that you wish this divorce? I could order counseling.”

“Your honor, I love Marie. I will always love Marie. I just can’t be her husband any longer. I need… I need to be a man, your honor. Marie knew my past, my history. Her own has similar incidents, in fact with the very man she che… committed adultery on me with, where she was the victim of betrayal. That’s in fact the ‘what if’ she mentioned, I think. I love her, your honor. But I can’t be her husband. The pain is just too much for that.”

The judge nodded sadly, and then picked up his gavel. He looked at Marie for a moment, then at me, then at his gavel. Bringing it down in a swift strike, he said “Petition for divorce in the case Preston vs. Preston granted.”

Words I had once thought I would never hear. Words that took with them a piece of my soul. The words that announced the official moment of the end of my marriage to the woman who was likely still the love of my life.

We filed out of the courtroom, me with my lawyer, Marie with hers. Tamara held me up for a moment to discuss the upcoming criminal trial against Williams, mostly advice on how to behave; she knew that part of her services to me in this case as a men’s advocate included revenge on the asshole. As we were nearing the end of our discussion, I felt a light touch on my shoulder, and a familiar fragrance in my nose. I half turned towards her.

“I hope this helps you find the happiness I stole from you, my love.” And then she was gone, and even in a crowded room, I was alone.

Life continued. By this point, I had started back to work again. Bobbie and I went fishing, adding Evan to our regular outings, and occasionally meeting up with Tom, who was becoming a better friend over time. I found a house, bigger than the old one, but empty, and moved out of Bobbie and Sue’s spare room. I needed to anyway, somewhere along the line I found out I was going to be an uncle, and they were going to need the space. It was a bittersweet moment for all three of us, a dark chocolate kind of feel, where it’s both incredibly happy news and yet still leaves a bitter taste behind.

The new place had a large, two car garage, so the Barracuda was once again a garage queen, though she did get the occasional use, and at least once a week a trip to the DQ. I was sitting at one of the picnic tables and staring at the stone cow, one of the ‘unique’ features of the DQ, and contemplating my life, when I felt a strong hand on my shoulder, pressing down on me.

“Stop looking so glum, Hank. Hell, you’ve got one of your Oreo Blizzards, the least you can do is smile while you eat it.” Bobbie started.

“Hey bro, I guess Sue couldn’t waddle fast enough to stop you from coming to the DQ tonight, eh?” I riposted, turning to my right to see him

“How the hell did you just describe me, Mr. Preston?” I heard from behind to my left, as Sue walked into view.

“Uh. Open mouth, insert foot, chew to ankle. You look glowing tonight, Sue.”

“Better. But I’m watching you!” I could see the twinkle in her eyes, and the soft, but still understated, bump from my future nephew.

“Watching. Always watching” I did in my best Roz from Monsters, Inc. voice.

“Hey, honey, go get your brother a peanut butter milkshake, on me, would you?” was her quick rejoinder to Bobbie. We all laughed at that. A moment or two later, after the laughter, Sue became more serious. “Bobbie finally told me how you knew. He also, on pain of suffering from severe nookie deprivation, told me the rest. I should smack you both for putting yourselves at such risk. But I love you both too much to do it. Don’t ever do it again. Oh, and if I ever get tempted” and then she muttered “not likely” before starting again “I’ll remember you and Marie and I promise that it’ll never happen to Bobbie and Me.” And of course, that’s when she started started giggling, before she started humming the old Janis Joplin song, ‘Bobby Mcgee’. “After all, ‘Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose’ but ‘feeling good is good enough for me. Good enough for me and my Bobbie P.'” and with that, she smiled, took Bobbie’s spoon full of caramel and wet walnuts, and took a big bite.

“Just don’t ever mistreat me, and you’ll never need to worry about being free, babe.” Bobbie told her, with eyes only on his bride.