February Sucks: The Podcast

When I read George Anderson's classic, I couldn't get it out of my mind. It provoked such a reaction that, like so many others, I had to try my hand at my own version.

All characters engaged in sexual activity are eighteen or older.

Jim Hardison felt like he was in a fog as he stumbled around his house that morning. He'd tossed and turned all night on the couch, frequently awakened by dreams of losing his wife Linda. Sometimes she was kidnapped; sometimes she was lost, but always a large, menacing figure lurked in the background. Sadly, when he finally got up he realized that the dreams were real. On the twenty-ninth of February while the couple was celebrating Leap Day, Marc LaValliere, the star tight end of the city's pro football team, had stolen her away.

Now, Jim was beset by a tidal wave of emotions. Disbelief, anxiety, sorrow, bitterness, anger, resentment and more filled his mind, making rational thought difficult. Unable to think of anything else to do, he went to the kitchen to brew some coffee and eat some breakfast cereal.

The food helped; the caffeine helped more. Now he could start to consider all the questions plaguing him. Would she come back? If so, when? What excuses would she make? What questions did he want answered? And, of course, the biggest one of all: did he even want her back after her betrayal?

He knew the answer to that last one.I'm going to file for divorce!he thought angrily. So even though it was early on Sunday, he made an urgent call to L.W., their long-time friend and family lawyer. What he learned made Jim hesitate The attorney had gently reminded Jim that they lived in a no-fault state. If he and Linda divorced, she'd get the kids and the house, plus half their savings and his retirement. Added to that would be alimony and monthly child support payments.That would ruin me! Dammit, she's the one who cheated, and I'm the one who has to pay for it.

He held his head in his hands in misery.So my only option is to stay with her? She gets to fuck anyone she likes and I get stuck being a cuckold?The thought was unbearable.

He glanced up at the clock -- it was a little after 11:00 a.m.God, they're probably still having morning sex in that fucker's bed.Then he remembered his children, Emma and Tommy. Jim and Linda had committed to pick them up from Mrs. Porter, the babysitter, before 1:00 p.m.If Linda's not back by then, I have no idea what I'll tell them about their Mom.

To try to distract himself, he began to putter around the house, straightening up the kids' toys, putting his breakfast dishes in the dishwasher, doing anything to keep himself occupied. Suddenly he heard the crunch of tires in their gravel driveway, accompanied by the thrum of a high-powered engine.

Hurrying to the front window, Jim saw a cherry-red sports car brake to a halt. The driver's door swung open, and out stepped the football hero himself. The man was tall -- six foot four, Jim remembered -- and athletically built. Even Jim had to admit the guy was handsome.How do I compete with that?

LaValliere nonchalantly strolled around to the passenger side and opened the door for Linda, gallantly offering his hand to help her extricate herself from the low-slung vehicle. Once she was standing, he pulled her into a full-bodied embrace, kissing her passionately. When he finally released her, he remained by his car, watching her totter down the driveway in her high heels. When she reached the front door, the big man revved the engine and backed out of the driveway. Then, with a jaunty beep of the horn, he waved as he drove off down the street.

Before he turned away from the window, Jim noticed Mrs. Carter working in her front yard across the street.The neighborhood gossip -- wouldn't you know it!Jim thought.The story will be all over the neighborhood before dark.

He turned to face his wife. Linda was still wearing the blue party dress she'd bought for last night's occasion. When she spotted him, her face took on a nervous smile. "I'm home, honey, just like I promised." She held her hands out and started toward him. "I'm ready to start showing my appreciation for the wonderful..."

"Stop!" Jim shouted, and she flinched. "I don't want you anywhere near me until you've taken a hot shower."

"But Jim," she whined, "I've already had one. I wouldn't come home to you..."

"I don't care," he cut her off again. "Go take another one. And change your clothes while you're at it. I don't ever want to see that dress again."

The anger in his voice convinced her not to argue. Instead she turned and headed down the hall toward their bathroom. "Wash your hair too," he shouted after her. "There might be cum in it."

When she reappeared, she had changed into regular clothes. Now her eyes were red.Why is she crying?he wondered.She's the one who slept with another man last night.

"Jim, I wore that dress because you liked it so much. I wanted to start making memories in it with you, and to start paying you back for being so understanding about last night."

He looked at her as though she had lost her mind. "In the first place, that damned dress will always remind me of the man who took it off of you. Second, I don't even want to touch you until you've passed a full battery of STI tests."

She was shocked. "Oh, honey, you don't have to worry about that. Marc is a pro athlete. I'm sure the team makes certain he's tested and healthy."

It took Jim only a moment to digest the implications of her reply. "So I take it from your answer that you had unprotected sex last night?"

She blushed. "But there's nothing to worry about: I'm on the pill."

"I'm not worried about you getting pregnant, Linda," he snarled, "I'm worried about you getting gonorrhea! That man was in a nightclub trying to pick up strangers. Who knows how often he does that and how healthy his other whores are? So until you can prove that you don't have a social disease, you're in quarantine as far as I'm concerned."

Before she could reply, he went on. "And here's another thing you haven't thought of: our children. We're due to pick them up in 15 minutes. I'm going to go get them. You can spend the rest of the day writing out a description of everything that happened while you were with him."

"Oh, honey, you don't want that. Why can't we just talk about it after you get the kids?"

"Because I don't want them to hear me yelling at you about something you might say. If you write it all out, I can read it in private. Besides, I'll probably be a little calmer than I am now, which will be good for both of us. Got it?"

"Alright, Jim, if that's what you want."

"It is. And there's one more thing: make sure you tell me everything. I want to know what you did, what you said, how you felt, everything from the time you left the nightclub till you walked in that front door. If I have to go around with a lot of unanswered questions, I'll never be able to deal with it. So don't leave anything out."

She nodded reluctantly, and he left to get their children.

When he got to Mrs. Porter's house, Emma and Tommy swarmed him, and he felt a glow of happiness for the first time since last night. Mrs. Porter watched the two youngsters fondly as they struggled into their winter coats. Turning to Jim, she asked, "So, how was the big celebration last night?"

Caught off guard, Jim's smile vanished and he couldn't look at her. After an awkward silence, he finally managed, "I'll let Linda tell you all about it."

The old widow watched them leave, a quizzical expression on her face. Then she picked up her phone and called her friend Betty Carter. "Hey, Betty, is anything going on with Bill and Linda across the street from you? I just had the strangest conversation when Bill came to pick up his kids."

While Jim was getting their children, Linda was on the phone with her best friend Dee, who pumped her for details of her night with LaValliere. Linda went into raptures about the night, and when she finished, Dee burst out, "I am so jealous!"

Then Dee's tone changed. "So how is it going with Jim? Are you two going to be alright?"

"It's pretty rough right now. He won't even talk about it -- he wants me to write everything down for him."

"Hmm. Girl, you need to be very careful about what you tell him. You know how fragile men's egos are. I'd definitely soft-pedal the number of times you two made love. Jim would never be able to match that, and it will drive him crazy."

"You're right, Dee. I think I can get away with avoiding any numbers. Though just between you and me, that 'white powder' we took definitely upped the temperature, if you know what I mean."

Dee gasped. "Linda, you definitely can't say anything about the coke. Jim would have a fit if he knew you'd tried that."

"You're right, you're right. I'll definitely leave out that little detail." Just then, she heard the garage door open. "Jim's back home, Dee. We can talk more another time."

When the kids came in, they greeted their mother eagerly, then hurried to their rooms to deposit their overnight clothes. Minutes later they were back, and when Jim asked them what they wanted to do, they both shouted "Frozen." He stifled a sigh; they'd watched the Disney movie dozens of times already, but still couldn't seem to get enough. Ordinarily, he would have tried to get them to do something else, but today he was happy knowing they'd be distracted for the next two hours.

Once Emma and Tommy were settled in front of the television, Jim took Linda's arm and led her into the kitchen. In response to her questioning look, he hissed, "I want to keep things as normal as possible in front of the kids. Don't say or do anything to upset them, got it?"

She nodded in agreement, then stepped back. "I guess I'll go back to the bedroom -- I've got a lot of writing to do."

The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully. Linda did not reappear, and Jim had no energy for cooking, so the family shared pizza for dinner. Afterwards, the parents got their children into bed, reminding them that tomorrow was a school day. When Emma and Tommy finally appeared to be sleeping, Jim and Linda returned to the living room.

Jim flopped down on the sofa, but Linda remained standing, and Jim noticed that she was clutching a sheaf of papers in her hand. "I did what you asked, Jim, but are you absolutely sure you want this in writing? Do you really want to read it over and over again? Can't we just talk about it and then try to move forward?"

He shook his head. "If we try to talk about it, I know I'll get side-tracked by my emotions. Then something will get left out or I won't understand, and we'll be in a worse place than before. This way I can go through the whole thing, then go back and reread things I have questions about. What I don't want is to hear bits and pieces of the story. That would be like Chinese water torture. I know this is going to be painful, but I have to deal with the whole thing all once. Can you understand that?"

She nodded sadly. "Okay, Jim, I tried to answer all your questions and to be as honest as I can, but I'm afraid this is going to hurt you. But if that's the way you want it, so be it. And maybe getting this out all at once is the best way to put it behind us and let me prove to you how much I love you."

With that she handed him her composition. "I'll let you read this alone. When you've finished, we can talk about it and I can answer any questions." She started to leave but then turned back. "Please believe me, Jim. I love you now more than ever." She turned and walked back to the bedroom.

He held her account as though it was a terrorist's IED waiting to explode. She'd written it on her stationery in long-hand, like a letter. The light violet paper seemed so out of place for what it contained. Apprehensively, he began reading.

When he finished, he took a deep breath, then slumped back on the couch.What's that old saying: be careful what you ask for. Well, she gave me what I asked for alright. I guess I knew pretty much what happened, but having to go through it like this was sheer torture. It has too much and too little at the same time. She answered some questions and raised even more.With a sigh he began to reread the letter, looking for points he might have missed. This time he underlined passages he wanted to ask about, and made notes in the margin about things he felt were especially important.

After his second reading, Jim suddenly realized how tired he was. The lack of sleep last night was really catching up with him. Learning the details about his wife's headlong dive into infidelity was emotionally exhausting. Not only did he have to read what a wonderful lover Mark LaValliere was, but her narrative drove home how little thought she'd given to Jim or their children while she was with Marc. He'd "overwhelmed" her, she'd written.I doubt she ever felt that way about me,he thought morosely.

Worn down and heart-sick, he stretched out on the sofa and was asleep in moments.

The next morning he woke up before the kids, which was good because he didn't want them to find him asleep in the living room. Linda, of course, wanted to know why he hadn't come to bed, but was not overly surprised by his explanation.

It was his day to take Emma and Tommy to school, and everything seemed to go normally when he dropped them off. Likewise, his day at the office went smoothly enough, although he found it hard to concentrate. Nevertheless, he made it through without incident.

When he got home, Linda had picked up the kids from aftercare and was preparing dinner in the kitchen. He walked in and pulled her letter out of his jacket. "Let's talk about this after dinner," he said quietly, and she nodded.

When they sat down for dinner, Jim noticed that Linda had fixed his favorite dishes.How very subtle,he thought, but decided not to say anything in front of the kids. The food was just as good as he remembered, and he found himself enjoying the meal in spite of himself.

After dinner, Emma and Tommy again wanted to watch "Frozen." Jim was about to veto that when Linda tugged on his arm. "Let them watch," she whispered. "It will keep them distracted, and we can talk in the kitchen." He nodded his agreement.

Once the kids were deep in the adventures of Elsa and Anna, Jim came to the kitchen table with Linda's letter in hand. "I've read this several times now," he told her, "and I hardly know what to think. How is it that this stranger comes out of nowhere, asks you to dance, and suddenly you're ready to drop your panties for him? How does that even happen?"

She blushed, but then leaned forward. "Marc LaValliere is hardly a stranger in this city. And I think almost anyone, male or female, would feel his charisma if he spoke to them."

"But that's a far cry from..." Jim protested, but Linda stopped him.

"Look at this from my perspective, Jim. The most desirable celebrity in our city appears out of nowhere, like you said, and wants to spend time with me. That's a dream come true for any woman, a memory to last a lifetime."

"Yeah, and a good way to get you into his bed," Jim added bitterly.

"Of course sexual desire was a part of it, but only a part. It was the fact that it was me he chose. After all, he could have had any woman in that nightclub." She leaned forward eagerly. "But here's what made it even more special. I knew at that moment that you would want me to have that experience, to make that memory. Sure, I knew that it would be difficult to swallow initially, and that's why I slipped away to the restroom. But I knew that after the weekend was over, I'd spend the rest of my life finding ways to express my gratitude to you. And I also knew that you are the kind of man who could get past the moment and focus on building a whole future of wonderful moments just for us. Don't you see, Jim, this was not only a precious gift to me, it was proof of how strong our love is for each other."

Jim stared at her in disbelief. "A gift? You take something from me I want to keep and call it a gift? I call it theft."

"Not a theft, Jim, a loan. And now I'm back with you and ready to show how much I love you. A year from now our relationship will be stronger than ever, and this weekend will be just a blip on the radar."

"So you think that abandoning your husband to go off with a lover is fine if he's a big celebrity? And I'm just supposed to accept that?"

"I do, Jim, and I'm not the only one. Dee agrees and so do the other girls in the group. Any one of them would have leapt on the opportunity if Marc had asked them to go with him."

"So you've already talked with them, told them all about your adventure, I suppose."

"Yes, Jim. And they're all green with envy. But you know why? It's not just because Marc chose me, it's also because they know what kind of husband I have. They know that our love is so strong that you'd give me this gift. They know that you're a better man, one who'll get past his hurt feelings and not make a bigger deal out of this than it is."

"Dammit, Linda, if I have to listen..."

"Jim, Jim," she shushed urgently, "hold it down, the kids will hear you."

He took a deep breath, knowing Linda was right and not wanting to alarm Emma and Tommy. As he sat there trying to control himself, Linda spoke up.

"I know we have lots more to talk about Jim, but I have to ask: where are you going to sleep tonight? If you keep sleeping on the couch, the kids are going to ask questions."

He ground his teeth, knowing Linda was right but not liking the solution. "Alright," he said finally, "I'll sleep in our bed -- but for their sakes, not yours. If you even try to take advantage of the situation, you'll be sleeping on the air mattress so quick it will make your head spin."

"Of course, Jim. I understand. Not till you're ready."

With that, they agreed to table any further discussion until Tuesday night. Jim was glad to be back in his own bed, but was wary of sleeping next to Linda. Every time she rolled over, he tensed up. Finally, he dropped off.

The next morning was Linda's time to take the kids to school, so Jim's commute was uneventful. But when he walked into the office, he got the eerie feeling that people were eyeing him. Did the conversation drop off when he walked by? He wasn't sure.

When he stepped into his cubicle, however, he found the answer. Someone had taped a large poster of Marc LaValliere onto the wall that faced his computer. "My Hero" was written on it in large letters.Shit,he thought,I was afraid something like this might happen.Taking a deep breath, he decided not to make a scene; instead, he took down the poster, carefully tore it into strips and threw it away.If I don't react, maybe they'll lose interest.

His strategy seemed to work: there were no further incidents that day. The stares, however, were now obvious, and several times he heard snickering outside his cubicle. By the time he left for home, his blood pressure was definitely elevated.

After the hazing at work, Jim was not eager for another discussion with Linda, but she seemed so anxious to resume that he reluctantly gave in. After they'd gotten the kids in bed, she sat down across from him in the living room. "What else do you want to know about my letter?" she inquired.

"I don't know, Linda. I'm still pretty overwhelmed by it all, to be honest."

"I understand: you're having a hard time getting past the sex and how good it was for me. But try to understand, Jim, this is a man who's probably had sex with hundreds of women. It's no wonder he's good at it, he's had so much practice. If you went to a prostitute, you'd expect her to be skilled at sex. It's just the same with Marc."