Alan let out a choice curse word. "What the hell's wrong with me?" he muttered to the empty interior of the old car. He had turned the wrong way. This was the way to his house. Scratch that, his wife's house. Scratch that too, his ex-wife's house.
How had it come to this? He still couldn't believe Lindsey went through with the divorce. He thought they'd separate for a while until she cooled down and eventually she'd take him back. Problem was she never did cool down. She was still blazing mad even with all his coaxing, expensive gifts and sincere apologies. He didn't get it. She never had been fussed much about the other women so why this time? Why was Melissa Spencer the last straw? The excuse Lindsey gave him made no sense. So what if Melissa was married? What difference did that make?
Lindsey knew all along he liked the ladies but she also should know it didn't mean anything. He only loved her after all. It was just sex, barely more than exercise and often less than that when the gals did all the work. Why couldn't she see that? He just couldn't figure it out.
"Oh, well, since I'm here..." he mumbled, hope firing up his insides. He might get to see the kids. Even just a glimpse was better than nothing. He continued down the same road he'd traveled for ten solid years. Ten years minus the last eleven months, that is. He noticed the county had finally paved the road. Good thing. It had really needed it. Someone must have complained enough.
He slowed down to get a good look at the house. The paint was peeling a bit. He should get some paint and come over on the weekend. Maybe then he could sneak his way into Lindsey's good graces again. He thought about pulling into the drive but what if it caused a scene? They weren't expecting him. The kids had been through hell. He really didn't want to do any further damage though he heard they had adjusted well. What that meant he didn't really know nor did he think he wanted to.
That's his car in the driveway. He gave it to Lindsey as an I'm-sorry-I-screwed-up-please-forgive-me present. Hadn't worked but at least she had something reliable to run the kids around in.
Alan suddenly smiled. He spotted his silly, drooling dog laying just under the shade of the massive Silver Maple he planted by the fence not long after they moved in. The baby swing still hung from it. He recalled pushing the kids on it when they were tiny. A lump formed in his throat and his eyes stung. He had been such a fool taking it all for granted.
"The less things change the more they never seem the same,"he muttered quietly as he held back the tears with a determined smile. He stared at the window to Lindsey's room, the one he had shared with her for almost his entire adult life. He could clearly picture her pretty head on her pillow next to his. How he missed that. He could barely sleep anymore without her next to him. He was so used to her stealing the covers he often threw them away from him to pretend she was there with him. Of course, when he awoke cold, alone and shivering she wasn't there to snuggle up to.
Damn it! Why was she punishing him so long? She should be over it by now. He had even promised never to do it again. You'd think that would be enough. He had learned his lesson. He missed his kids. He missed his home. He mostly missed his Lindsey. He wanted his old life back but she still needed space. So, he gave them space. But this was getting ridiculous. All this space was killing him.
He turned around in the neighbor's driveway. He'd be hard to recognize in this old car. He passed the house once more and stopped across the street. He'd had enough of this. He would ask them out to get pizza or something, both the kids and Lindsey. It had been so long since he'd seen them and even longer since they all went out together. Just as he turned the car off he saw someone come around the side yard with the lawn mower. It wasn't the usual high school kid they used to cut the grass but he did look familiar.
Alan watched in fascination as the man mowed only a small section in the shape of a rectangle long the fence. What the hell was that about? The man then set aside the mower and went to the garage. He came back out carrying what looked like a huge hockey net. But Jordan didn't play field hockey. That was for girls and there was no way his prissy little Nancy would have anything to do with sports. He had to drag her kicking and screaming to baseball practice. Jordan too for that matter. What kids didn't like baseball?
The man was now pounding stakes into the ground securing the net firmly into place. Alan's heart skipped merrily as he saw Jordan running around the side yard dribbling a soccer ball. Without warning he sent the ball soaring at the man who turned just in time to stop it with his chest. He then did a few fancy maneuvers kicking the ball around using his feet, ankles and knees. David Beckham couldn't have done better. He then circled Jordan and allowed him to steal the ball from him. Jordan sent the ball right into the far corner of the net and the man yelled out a long, "GOAL!" just like those over-excitable soccer commentators on the sports channel.
Alan looked on in horror. He now knew who the man was. Mick Spencer, Melissa's husband and the vice president of the youth soccer league in town. He had seen him at the park while Alan had been flirting with his wife during Jordan's little league games.
"What the hell?" Alan muttered incredulously, his heart pounding dangerously hard against his ribs. He stared at Mick coaching his son. Jordan was good at soccer, really good. How did that happen? His boy never wanted to do sports. He had tried to get him interested but Jordan hated football, baseball and even basketball. How had this happened? Oh, but he knew and his blood boiled as he watched Jordan hug Mick around the middle.
The bastard was stealing his son. Revenge for Alan sleeping with Melissa. Oh, but this was low. Sex was nothing compared to a child's love and devotion. Well, he wasn't about to let that happen. He just reached for the door handle when he saw Nancy come out of the house. He stared in shock. She wasn't wearing her usual frilly dress but instead was dressed in soccer shorts. To further mesmerize her father she stole the ball from the other two and dribbled it around them then sent it around Jordan and shot it straight into the net with Mick pretending to dive for it in an attempt to save the goal. He landed sprawled out on the grass and the kids jumped on top of him laughing delightedly.
"My God, he's stole my kids," Alan mumbled weakly. Just as he thought nothing could get worse Lindsey came out of the house with bottles of apple juice for all of them. Alan's heart skipped a beat as he stared at her beaming smile. She never looked more lovely.
Mick whispered something to the kids then got up and swept her right off her feet twirling her around until she shrieked for him to stop.
"Yeah, put her down, you..." Alan growled angrily but stopped mid-sentence, his jaw dropping. She wrapped her silky arms around Mick's neck and kissed him. It was no friendly, thanks-for- cutting-the-grass kiss. She liked him, a lot. Alan thought he might pass out. He closed his eyes tightly and opened them again hoping against hope he had dreamed it all. But, no, it was all too real.
Mick slowly lowered Lindsey to the ground with his hands encircling her tiny waist pulling her closer to him. He put his fingers through her tousled hair and kissed her slowly but surely. That was bad enough but right in front of the kids? But they weren't even watching. They were playing with the stupid ball as if their mother kissing their soccer coach was common, normal and something they were used to.
"God, no, please, no. Don't let it be so," Alan muttered quietly. He shut his eyes and leaned his head against the steering wheel. Surely, she was just getting back at him, he rationalized. That was it. It was just revenge. But that wasn't like Lindsey. She was all virtue, pure and sweet, angelic even. She didn't have a mean bone in her body. Worse she ever did to him was give him the silent treatment. But then there was the divorce. That had been the absolute worst thing.
He had really screwed up. He had lost Lindsey for good and to Mick Spencer of all people, Mr. Wonderful.
He suddenly banged the dashboard hard with his fist and the CD player which hadn't worked since he got the stupid second-hand car suddenly sprung to life with the Toby Keith CD that was stuck in it since the divorce.
"That's my house, that's my car, that's my dog in my backyard, there's the window to her room where she lays her pretty head, I planted that tree out by the fence not long after we moved in...." Toby Keith sang.
Alan sat in silence listening to the mellow voice speak his life. A chill ran down his spine.
"....That's my kids and that's my wife but who's that man running my life...." Toby sang.
"Mick Spencer, that's who," Alan answered wearily. He finally knew why married men, men married to the sweetest, most wonderful, perfect angel in the entire world shouldn't have casual sex with married woman. At least not with women married to nice guys who never cheat on their wives. That was the difference. That was the perfect revenge.