“How’s Your Wife and my Kids?” – Loving Wives

It has been over a year. For all of the people out there that have started following me, I apologize.

Life has happened, and I kind of lost my muse. I will make a point to try to rectify that in the future.

This story has no explicit sex, I could have put some in, but it would not have advanced the story, so if that is what you’re looking for then you should probably look elsewhere.

There is only a little of the Burn the Bastard, and no real Burn the Bitch. The character cared more for his kids and the affect it would have on them.

If you’re still interested in reading this I would appreciate any feedback, both positive and negative. It helps me to strive to be a better writer.

“How’s your wife and my kids?”

It was almost unnoticeable, but I noticed. My wife’s eyes grew wider for just a second, not even a full second, a split second, and I noticed. I barely chuckled at the joke. My best friend and I had grown up together and we used that line many times.

I think the first time I used it was at Cedar Point, an amusement park in Sandusky, Ohio. I don’t know where it came from, I just said it.

We were riding in one of the gondolas that travel high above the park, going from one end to the other and back again. Me and Jeff, my best friend, were alone in one of the cars traveling one way and a family, mom, dad, and 2 kids, were traveling in one going the opposite direction. As we passed by each other, approximately 20 feet apart, I shouted out, “How’s your wife and my kids?” They all looked at us and we started cracking up laughing.

That was the start of a running joke with Jeff and I. We used it over and over that day.

When we went back to school in the fall we used it, and got reprimanded for it. I guess, Mr. Tate, the math teacher, didn’t find it funny. After a few months the novelty of it wore off and we only used it on rare occasions. Every summer though, when we went back to Cedar Point, it would start up all over again.

You’d think that by the time I was in college I would have put that juvenile joke behind me, but I guess, even at 21, I hadn’t really matured. I was out with some college buddies, having a few beers and playing pool, when I saw a guy, maybe 30 years old or so, sitting in a booth. He was conversing with a woman probably less than 25 years old. You could tell it was a first date. I made a tremendous 2 bumper bank shot to win the game and I yelled out, “Yeah boys, that’s how it’s done.” This made the guy look over in my direction. Me, being in a cocky mood, said, “Hey buddy, how’s your wife and my kids?”

My friends laughed and I said, “I’m going to hit the head. Rack ’em and I’ll be right back.”

Looking back now I was kind of a dick when I was that age. I wasn’t the only one though, we all thought we were invincible.

As I was standing at the urinal someone came into the bathroom. I don’t remember much after that, except the guy that hit me, and slammed my head against the wall, was wearing a blue shirt.

When I hadn’t come back from the bathroom for a while one of my buddies came looking for me and found me bloody and unconscious on the bathroom floor. They called an ambulance and I spent the night in the hospital. I told the police and my friends that the only thing I remembered was a blue shirt. There were no cameras so the police had nothing to go on.

I ended up getting stitches to close up a wound that ran from above my left eyebrow to the top of my cheekbone. It was a scar that I will carry with me for the rest of my life, both physically and emotionally.

The hospital kept me overnight just in case of concussion. It made me think about my boisterous cocky behavior. Typically people don’t change, except when there is a big event to force the change. Many people get in bar fights and never change, but this one changed me. I became introspective, keeping quiet until I had something worthwhile to say.

That next summer, when I was back from college, my best friend and I met up for a beer. Of course the first thing he noticed was my scar.

“Holy shit, Kurt, what happened?”

“I opened my big fat mouth one too many times.” I confessed.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

We sat down in a booth and I told him the whole story.

“So you think it was the guy you said that to? Fuck him if he can’t take a joke.”

I let it drop. I felt sorry for myself for two reasons. One because I had a scar that I was going to have to live with, the other because I had obviously angered someone so bad that he had to sucker punch me while I was taking a piss. I didn’t think of myself as an asshole. I was, for the most part, a happy-go-lucky guy. I guess he saw me as just another punk asshole kid.

As the summer went along Jeff and I hung out, but he kept giving me grief. “Come on man, lighten up. Why can’t you just be yourself.” The thing is, I was being myself. I just wasn’t that same guy with the ‘Devil-may-care’ attitude. I started looking at the potential consequences of my actions.

Needless to say, even though he was my best friend, we didn’t spend as much time together as we used to. This being the last summer before our Senior year, we would probably never spend as much time together in the future. We would both be graduated and on to our careers next summer.

Senior year was my ‘buckle down and get serious’ year. I started looking at where I wanted to be hired after graduation. I liked living in Carmel, Indiana, my home town. It would be great if I could get a job in Indianapolis. My major was in Chemical Engineering, it just made sense that I look at working at Eli Lilly Pharmaceuticals. Their home office was in Indianapolis. I had to insure that my grades and extra-curricular activities painted me as the best candidate for whatever job would be available.

Looking back, my new introspective attitude helped me to focus on that goal. I was only an okay student, however my buckling down got me a 3.9 grade point average for my last year. I actually graduated Cum Laude. I obtained a job at Eli Lilly. I was on top of the world.

The first couple of years I was nose to the grindstone. I spent many hours learning and practicing all of the ins and outs of the company. By my third year I was a project manager. I felt pretty proud of myself, but I didn’t let myself get cocky. Cockiness got me a scarred face. Instead I treated everyone with respect and praised them for their accomplishments. Even when co-workers irritated me (we all have them) I didn’t say anything, just kept it to myself.

One day a co-worker Jenny came and sat next to me in the lunchroom. She was on my team. I considered her a friend, just a friend, she was married. I would never do anything with a married woman. My religious Midwestern upbringing kept me from even thinking that way. As we ate we talked, me sparingly. She said, “Kurt, I know someone in Sales and Marketing that thinks you are cute.”

I hadn’t dated much, especially with co-workers. You know the old saying, ‘Don’t shit where you eat.’ I told her, “Workplace romances are tricky Jenny. If it doesn’t work out you still have to see them on occasion. If it does work out you’re working at the same place, driving to and from work together. That’s a lot of time together. That could get old.”

“Oh Kurt, it’s just a date. I think you should meet her.”

“Who is it?” I questioned.

“Gwen Winters, do you know her?”

“No, but then again I don’t really travel in those circles.”

“Well, I’m going to introduce you. Are you free Friday night?”

“Hmmm, let me check my social calendar.” I tapped the side of my head by my scar. “I don’t see anything on my schedule. I think I can do that. Where and when would I meet her?”

“How about 7:00 at Doc B’s Restaurant?”

“That sounds good. It’s been a while since I’ve been there.”

“I’ll be there to introduce you two, then I’ll leave. Got to get back to the hubby.”

“Jenny, you said she thinks I’m cute. Did she see my scar?”

“Yes, she thinks it is intriguing and would like to know how you got it.”

“Okay, I’ll be there.”

As I went back to my work center I thought to myself, “Intriguing is not how I would describe my scar.” It was quite obvious and has garnered a lot of stares over the last few years.

Well, we met, had a great time and by the end of the night she felt comfortable enough to ask about my scar.

“That will have to wait until our second date. That is, if your willing. There’s a bit of a story behind it.”

“Well, if that is your way of forcing me to go out with you again, then I guess I’ll just have to. I’ve got to hear the story.”

So, we made plans for a second date. I didn’t want to assume she had no plans for Saturday, the next night, so I said, “How about next Friday?”

“Sure, that works.” She said.

“Should I pick you up or should we meet somewhere?”

“Can I interest you in a home cooked meal?” She offered.

“Sounds great.”

We exchanged phone numbers, she gave me her address, and we set a time. Needless to say we hit it off and 2 years later we were married. Of course Jenny was her maid of honor, after all it was all her fault. Jeff was my best man.

Now after 6 years we had a home, 2 kids (Susie 2 years old and Jeremy 4 years old), and of course a dog to round out the picture. My parents were ecstatic. We lived about 35 minutes from them and they spoiled our children terribly.

About a year ago Jeff came back to the Indianapolis area. He had married, but divorced after just 3 years, ‘Irreconcilable Differences’ was the reason. He didn’t go into a lot of details and I didn’t push it. We spent time together and also had him over for dinner. He adored my children and they called him “Unca Ef”. It was so cute.

That leads us to where we began. Jeff knows that I have bad memories about the last time that I had said the phrase, “How’s your wife and my kids?” Yet he would still say it from time to time. I guess old habits die hard. Gwen usually rolled her eyes or gave him a stern look when he said it. Today’s look was completely different.

I didn’t say anything or let on that I noticed a difference in how Gwen reacted. It did make me wonder though. I was a little quieter than usual that evening. No one noticed so I just kept watching the interactions between the two. There was nothing overt, but I did catch some sideways glances between them from time to time. Also, it appeared to me that Jeff gazed at Gwen just a tad bit too long.

Jeff had come back into my life after the kids were born, so I really wasn’t thinking that his “Joke” was true, but what if they were now having an affair? Maybe I was just being paranoid. They wouldn’t betray me like that, not my wife and my best friend. Still, I did see something.

That night Gwen and I made love, but my heart wasn’t into it, she however was trying to kill me with her enthusiasm. Guilt, I thought?

I didn’t sleep well that night, my mind was racing. How was I going to find proof without anyone knowing? I couldn’t hire a PI, Gwen regularly reviewed our accounts. I couldn’t ask her, if it was all in my head it could cause great damage to our trusting relationship. If she was having an affair she would just deny it, and it would still cause issues in our relationship. I had to think of a plan.

On Tuesday at work it came to me. I usually go golfing with friends on Saturday mornings. Jeff hated the game so he never went,. That would be the perfect time for them to do it. I called my Mom, “Hey Mom, how are you?”

“Oh hi honey, how are you?”

“Good. I was just wondering if I could pawn my kids off on you for a couple days this weekend?”

“Oh, I suppose.” She joked. They loved watching the kids.

“Okay, I’ll drop them off Saturday morning around 8:00 if that works.”

“That would be great. I’ll have breakfast waiting for them.”

“Thanks Mom, love you. Bye now.”

“Love you too honey.”

That night when I got home I said, “Oh Gwen, my parents would like to have the kids over for the weekend. I told them I would drop them off on my way to golf on Saturday.”

“Oh, that’s nice of them. You know though, they will be spoiled rotten when we get them back on Sunday,” She joked.

“It’s the price we pay for having such great kids that everybody loves.” I quipped back.

So, the stage was set. She would have the morning free to do whatever she liked.

Friday night Gwen was “too tired” for any intimacy, but she promised to make it up to me Saturday night.

After I dropped the kids off I headed to the golf course, just in case she checked my phone location with the app. About a quarter mile from the course I stopped in a parking lot and checked her location. She was still at home, or at least her phone was. She always had her phone with her, so I was sure she was still there.

Then I called Bob, one of my golf buddies. “Hey Bob, you guys are going to have to start without me. I had a little fender bender. I’ll try to catch you at the turn.”

“Sorry to hear that, Kurt. I told you, you drive like an old woman, especially a blind one.” He laughed. “We’ll look for you in a couple hours.”

It had now been about an hour and a half since I had left the house. That should be plenty of time for Jeff to get over there and they start to get things going. I shut my phone off and headed to my house. Sure enough, Jeff’s car was parked in the driveway, so I pulled in front of the house.

“That son of a bitch!” I said out loud.

As I quietly entered the house I saw no one in either the livingroom or the kitchen, and they weren’t out back either. I knew where they would be. I quietly crept up the stairs, my blood pressure rising with each step. I went down the hall toward the Master Bedroom. The door was ajar. I could hear the bed moving. Then I heard her say, “Fuck me Jeff.” I was now outraged. As I walked up to the door I heard her moaning, “Oh, Oh, Oh” as he was pumping into her. I lost it. I slammed through the door and went straight to the bed, yelling, “YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!!”

He turned and saw me as my first hit him square in the nose. Blood was gushing from his face but I kept hitting him as he fell to the floor. Now I was on top of him, pummeling his face. Gwen was screaming for me to stop, but I just kept hitting him. Then I felt her pull on one of my arms. I turned to her. She saw a look on my face so full of rage and hatred for her that her eyes went wide and she ran to the bathroom.

I stood up and went to the bathroom door, trying the doorknob. It was locked. “YOU FUCKING CUNT!!’ I yelled through the door.

Then I turned back to Jeff and screamed, “YOU SON OF A BITCH. I don’t ever want to see you again!!” Then I took one last shot, his cock was glistening with my wife’s juices, so I kicked him with everything I had. He screamed in pain and then went silent, unconscious.

I turned back to the bathroom door and tried the knob again, it was still locked, of course. I yelled through the door, “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU CHEATING WHORE!!”

I was so mad I just had to get out of there before I did kill one of them. As I opened my front door I was met by 2 cops with guns drawn, yelling at me to, “GET ON THE GROUND!!” I guess at some time after I hit Jeff in the nose and me yelling at her through the bathroom door she must have dialed 911.

I had never had a gun pointed at me before. Let me tell you, my rage immediately turned to being scared for my life.

I was arrested and charged with Felonious Assault. I would have to wait until Monday morning for a judge to hear the charges and determine a bail amount.

As I sat in my jail cell I thought about my life. I really fucked it up now. Why couldn’t I have just taken video with my phone and filed for divorce? That is what I had initially planned, but when I saw his car in my driveway my rage started getting to me.

Why had they done it? I thought Gwen and I had it all. I thought we were happy.

Why would Jeff do this to me? He was my best friend.

I didn’t know which hurt more, betrayal by my wife or by my best friend?

As I sat there I thought to myself. I will never forgive either of them! This wasn’t some drunken mistake, it was planned. I also thought that, for my own peace of mind, I needed to get DNA tests done on my kids.

I didn’t call anyone that day and Gwen didn’t come to see me. That was okay, I didn’t want to see her anyway. I would probably make it worse by screaming at her in front of the guards.

At one point I thought of Jeff. I’m sure he was brought to the hospital, he was in pretty bad shape when I left him. I smiled at that. That bastard deserved it, and more.

On Sunday at about 12:00 I used my one phone call to call my parents, they would get home from church about 11:30, why call them earlier and mess up their morning. There was nothing much that could be done until tomorrow anyways.

“Hello honey,” my mom answered. “How is your weekend?”

“It could be better, may I speak with Dad?”

“Sure… is something wrong?”

“Yeah, but I’d like to speak to Dad before I go into it.”

She handed the phone to my Dad and I could hear her say, “It’s Kurt, something’s wrong.”

“Hey Kurt, what’s going on?”

“Dad, do you know any good lawyers?”

“What… what happened?”

“I’m in jail, Dad. I beat up on Jeff pretty bad.”

“Jeff? Why?”

“I found him and Gwen in our bed.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah”

“Let me get a pad of paper and write everything down. I think I might have a friend that can help you out.”

Then I heard my mother saying, “What’s wrong, help him out, how?

“Sonja, I’ll explain everything, just let me talk to Kurt for a few minutes.”

Well, I told my Dad the Cliff Notes version of what had transpired. He asked me where I was and I gave him all the pertinent information. I also told him that I would need to wait until tomorrow to go before a judge for setting of bail.

“Don’t worry Kurt, I’ll have someone meet you before your hearing to discuss your case. Of course, we’ll be there too.”

“Dad, please don’t tell the kids anything. They wouldn’t understand and I don’t want to upset them. Has Gwen called about them?”

“No Kurt, but when she does I will be giving her a piece of my mind.”

Monday morning at about 9:00 I got a visit from a lawyer that my father had contacted. We discussed a little about what happened, but he said, “Let’s get you out of here, then we can discuss what we want to do going forwad.”

Bail was set at $150,000. My lawyer asked the judge, “Isn’t that a little steep for a first time offense?”

“Mr. Reed, your client put a man in intensive care. No, I don’t think that it is

a little steep.”

I was a little surprised. I knew I had done some damage, but I didn’t know it was that much.

The guard came to escort me back to my cell, but was interrupted by another lawyer. “Kurt Smith, this is a restraining order. You are to stay at least 500 yards from Gwen Smith, your children, Susie and Jeremy Smith, and your residence. You are to have no contact with them except through your lawyer.”

Well fuck, she sure did act fast. It must be nice to have a best friend that is a lawyer, and her husband a judge. I turned to my parents. They said, “She came and picked them up last night. It was not a goods scene. The kids could tell something was wrong, even at their young ages. They started crying as she took them to the car.”

“Damn that bitch!” I said, then “Oops, sorry Mom, sorry Dad.”

“Son, under the circumstances I think your forgiven.”

Back in the cell I sat down on my bed. This was a lot to take in. She wanted a divorce, like I was the one that wronged her. Well, she could have it. I didn’t plan on forgiving her, so divorce was the only option in my book. I did want to fight for my kids though. I would need a different lawyer for that battle.

Then I thought about what the judge said that, “I had put a man in intensive care.” Truthfully, that made me smile. He deserved it, the fucker.

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