Hey Bill… Is That You?

In our early years of marriage, Bill and I lived in a converted two car garage to the right and behind our landlord’s house. It consisted of two bedrooms, a living room and eat in kitchen. What can I say, it was cheap and since Bill was still helping his mom out financially, it was all we could afford. Our landlord’s son was in high school, and his old red swing set was just outside our kitchen door, to the side of the house, and our landlord said our kids were to consider it their own. Since my girls were quite young, they both played on it constantly so there was a always a metallic jangling sound heard around our house throughout the daytime. To make ends meet, Bill worked weekend nights as assistant manager at a nearby drive-in theater. This was actually great because I could watch all the movies I wanted for free. I would put a pillow in the backseat for my oldest, Toni, and another in the front seat beside me for Sandi, the baby. Bill would come out and visit us when he could get a break and bring me free popcorn and cokes. Bill had to close up each night, so he always got home well after the movies ended.

One Saturday afternoon, he had told me he’d be even later getting home that night because the manager was having a party for his employees to celebrate the birth of his first child. Free booze, whoopee. I had put the kids down for the night and had gotten into bed myself with a book. Let me say here, while I was always paranoid about locking up at night, I wasn’t afraid to be alone in an empty house. And since this was in the early 60s, it was a different time for us all. I have no idea what time it was, but something woke me up; a sound that was a bit familiar, but curious all the same. I immediately called out Bill’s name. No answer. His pillow looked indented, like he had laid down, and after I got out of bed, I noticed his clothes piled up on the little chair on his side of the bed. I called out to him again, but still no answer. Then I heard that sound again and recognized it as the metal jangling on the swing set. Getting a flashlight, I turned it on and immediately went to open the kitchen door. I waved the light over the swing set and called Bill’s name again. Something was up because one of the swing’s was, well, swinging gently. Since there was no heavy winds, I knew something or someone had made the swing move and I felt pretty sure it was Bill.

So, I took my trusty flashlight and proceeded around to the front of the house and there I found him, in all his glory. Naked behind the hedges, hands clasped around his more intimate area. It seems that Bill had had too much to drink and, after the bed wouldn’t stop spinning, he knew he’d have to upchuck. He didn’t want to wake me or the girls, so he went outside via the kitchen and was in the process of giving his stomach some relief when he heard me calling. When he saw that I had a flashlight and that I was determined to come outside looking for him, he dashed around the corner so that he wouldn’t be in the spotlight. Once we stopped laughing, he slept like a baby. I don’t think there was anyone of my family or friends that I didn’t relate that story to over the next few days, and we all had a good laugh at Bill’s expense. To give him credit, he always had a good sense of humor so he laughed right along with us and would reenact how I had followed him around the house and into the yard, until he was exposed. Fortunately, our landlord, the neighbors and the kids all remained in their beds, and never heard a thing.


Gosh, that last post sure was negative! Sometimes it almost feels like I need to let out the negativity and then I feel better. That's certainly what happened over the last 24 hours. Nothing else changed, but I feel better. Perhaps its recognition that I am not crazy for feeling that my wife and I just aren't meant to be together long-term. Maybe its having some idea of a time frame for the upcoming major events in my life, Job in 12 months after my youngest goes to Middle School. Divorce when she graduates high school in 8 years, damn, that's too long! And of course there is another side to the whole affair; my wife's. Perhaps she would blame more of our difficulties on me not being in touch with my emotions. Or being borderline depressed. Or who knows what else. These are the ones I can think of based on things from the history of our relationship. And some of them have an element of truth to them. But mostly we get along ok, and I hope to continue to get along ok with her for as long as possible. For even though I think the world of my ex-lover, I never thought we had a long-term future together, and I still don't. So there's nobody for me to run off with into the sunset...