BETRAYAL Dale Day

BETRAYAL
Dale Day

You sit on the curb, your feet atop the thick bed of ice plant. A light mist rises from the sea and the foghorn echoes back from the towering hills on the other side of the inlet to San Francisco Bay. The giant stair steps of units housing four two-story apartments covers the hillside behind you. You stare at the spot not for away where you buried Chloe, the adventurous Siamese cat whose nightly hunting foray was cut short by a monster on four wheels.
What would it be like to join her? To share her peace?
You do not want to turn around, as you will only see a place of betrayal. Another of many.
It would be so easy to stand and walk forward to the edge. A steep drop of a hundred feet or so to the rocks. Nobody would find you until morning. The pain of bleeding out would be terrible. But, could it be more so than the pain you’ve frequently felt these past few years?
If only she … .
Or, is it really, if only you had been a man? A man who could remove whatever evil inhabits her to make her do the things she does?
C’mon now. You knew it from the beginning. The way you met. The way she wrung the promise out of you when you knew it was wrong. Your own lack of common sense. And then … .
You went to her home and saw the little girl lying in her crib. She looked up at you and put a lock on your heart. You picked her up and held her, feeling something you’d dreamed all your life. Could you turn your back on the child? Or her mother? Could you walk away from this little girl who looked at you with wonder?
You married Lizabeth as much as you married her mother.
Life was good - at first.
Her parents, or her foster parents, were old-fashioned Bible Belt farmers. You met her birth parents and they too were seemingly decent people. And, her brother was a common sense kinda guy with a good job. You heard the problems but none of it seemed out of the ordinary.
The alarms should’ve sounded the first time you asked about the possibility of doing what filled your heart, adopting Lizabeth as your own. The father was somewhere and Wilma was certain he wouldn’t approve of you adopting his daughter.
Yeah. What would he care if he wasn’t in her life and hadn’t been since her birth?
The closure of the company and assignment to a school on the West Coast brought smiles to your faces. A far change from being in the middle of the country with all the storms and tornadoes. The little girl sat in the front seat of the car between you and her mother, delighted with the passing miles. The company was efficient and your things arrived soon after you did. You had a furnished duplex to live in. The school hours were long but you found every possible chance to be with your family. The wages weren’t great but, to you, things seemed far better than before.
But, there were some signs of dissatisfaction you either didn’t see or simply ignored.
There were lots of things to do when you weren’t in class. For most of them, you took your daughter along. That left Wilma at home but she didn’t seem to mind. She actually came along a lot of the times. There was lots of sightseeing to do.
The school ended and you were sent to the far side of the country. The idea was to send you through another school but that got short-circuited. You were given a job you didn’t want. But, you were close to the nation’s capitol and often took your wife and daughter there.
However, the coldness of your marriage bed filled your thoughts. What did you do or fail to do to bring it about? Had it not really been there from the start? Did you not provide enough warmth to thaw her heart? Did you fail to show the proper manners to help her understand she was no longer in the past? You learned her foster parents had treated her and her brother most cruelly in their effort to bring the little half-breeds to the civilized, Christian world. Could you not show her that world was behind her?
You found ways to divert yourself when you weren’t at work. Some of them involved Lizabeth. She clearly loved you and gave you something her mother didn’t. You also found ways to keep your mind away from your problems at home by playing Tournament Bridge. Those you met were nothing more than others seeking to win at a very difficult game.
Not once did you seek another to share a bed with. You had vowed to be faithful. You had seen those you thought to be your parents separate and divorce. You were not going to let that happen to you.
It soon became clear the additional school was to be denied. The demands of a conflict far away in the land of rice paddies increased daily and your number came. There was little choice but to take your family back to where their family lived. The parting with your daughter was sorrowful, that with your wife a bit on the cool side. “I will write to you, Daddy. Mommy says she’ll help me.”
That put some warmth into your soul.
The trip passed endlessly. Stops to refuel before your descent into the war-torn land so far away. The heat hit you in the face. Then, as you passed poor huts pressed together, the smell of too many people living in unsanitary conditions filled your nostrils. Another, shorter flight, took you to your new place and you settled in. The letters already written went into the mailbox and were followed daily by more.
A month passed with no response. Then another. The letters you wrote dwindled from daily to twice weekly and finally monthly, if at all. A move came about and you hoped the lack of mail came from going to a new place. Even letters to her foster parents and brother went unanswered. At last, when you got a chance, you found a way to phone, hearing her foster father’s voice on the other end saying he didn’t know where she was or how to reach her. At least her brother answered and in a terse manner repeated what you’d already heard.
The sadness and sense of loss finally got to you and you found yourself seated in a bar next to a girl who seemed more than willing to take your mind from your problems.
Another betrayal followed. A betrayal of your marital vows. Everything was as you dreamed of in the lonely hours when you’d eased the ache down below by yourself. Even more so. A willingness to eagerly do whatever pleased you.
But, it was hollow. A guilt-filled pastime. The time came when you could no longer live that way and you turned your back.
A little over ten months later, you receive a notice that your wife was in a hospital in serious condition, struggling to give birth to a child. Would you please fine a way to come home? Your employer complied, relieving you early of your compromise and arranging to get you back there.
You sat in a window seat and glanced out as the aircraft rushed down the runway, fighting to gain altitude. You saw blossoms of fire and smoke and understood the airport was under attack. When you reached the first refueling stop, television accounts indicated a major rebel attack against government forces. The news was even direr when you reached the second refueling point. What had happened to your buddies and co-workers? Were they okay?
You later learned two of them were killed and dozens injured. Another reason to fill you with guilt. You abandoned them to respond to a woman who, in spite of the lame stories you’d been given, had clearly betrayed you once again. The brightest part of your arrival was the young girl rushing into your arms, screaming your name. Her mother smiled but only gave a light peck, immediately launching into a contrived story you couldn’t believe.
The baby was surgically delivered and, after some intense medical care, declared healthy. There was no doubt of her being given up for adoption so you only saw her red, wrinkled face through a glass window.
Your vacation time gave out and, with a newly purchased car, you set out for your next assignment, this time on the old Spanish presidio of San Francisco. Your wife stayed in the back seat, resting and napping while your daughter sat up front, chattering and watching the world go by. While she never said anything directly, you learned she’d spent most of her time living with her real grandparents and didn’t see her mother all that often.
You reached the new place and moved into temporary quarters in a secluded valley across the bay. It was rough but kind nice, close to a deserted beach where you and Lizabeth could take long walks on the beach and explore the tide pools.
While the marital bed was as cold as ever, at least she had the excuse of healing from surgery. You moved into a lovely old house surrounded by towering pines, sharing half with another family. Your work was okay and, as you’d received a promotion for your efforts far across the sea, you no longer had to jump at everything someone else told you to do. In many ways, you were your own boss.
A horrible analogy. You earned success and commendations in your work and had none at home.
You stopped slumping in the sofa, relieved that she seemed to have stopped her acts of betrayal. You found diversions such as bowling, playing golf with Lizabeth coming along, going to watch Roller Derby that they very much enjoyed and even professional Wrestling.
Then, came the time to move again. An opening existed for someone of your expertise who spoke German and you were selected. Your family would be able to go with you due to your rank. But, they would have to wait until you got settled in and had suitable housing. Once again you packed up and took them home, this time to stay with her natural parents as her foster parents had turned their backs on her. You arrived overseas to find the job you thought you had changed for another. As it turned out, housing became available sooner than expected.
The biggest surprise was that she returned your letters. And, when you gave her the information on how to ship things to where you were and how to get there, she did it! The reunion at the airport was great.
You settled in quickly and everything seemed fine - except for the same chill in the bedroom. Not that she didn’t comply. Only that, afterwards, you heard the question, “Was it good for you?” A clear hint that, if it was, you were the only one.
Within six months, things deteriorated. Constant trips to the hospital emergency room for real or imagined problems. Always seeking stronger pain medications. You were called away for a two week period and, when you returned, you heard remarks you weren’t supposed to hear - or perhaps were - about what a fun person your wife was. She supposedly went to a bar and restaurant where she was seen with different men. Often leaving with them.
This time, you sought the advice of a shrink. He reviewed her records and told you there was not much you were ever going to be able to do about it. He felt she had a serious disorder, giving it some big name, and would never get better unless she wanted to be treated for it. Things got worse on the medical front and doctors suspected she was using drugs other than those prescribed for her. After one particularly difficult episode, it was decided to medically return all of you back to the States.
You all flew back together on a medical flight, changing in New Jersey to continue on to San Francisco where she was checked into the hospital on the Presidio. As it turned out, there was a job for you there and, as you were on a list for yet another promotion, a place to live. You and Lizabeth quickly settled in, you got her enrolled in school and had the home ready when your wife was released.
What could you do? You’d made vows that you too had broken. You no longer had the right to be righteous and just walk away. And, what about your daughter? What would happen to her. You once again sought some way to become her legal guardian but were told that, if her mother was determined to be unfit, Lizabeth would be sent to live with either her foster or natural grandparents. If you wanted to give her a chance, what choice was there?
Things reach a horrid peak. You came home from work one day and asked Lizabeth where her mother was. She told you and you went up to the street to the neighbor’s house. She opened the door for you wearing a bathrobe. When you asked where your wife was, she invited you in and pointed to the living room.
You gasped in horror! Then rage. There on the sofa was your unclad wife doing to the woman’s husband what she had never done to you. Ever! Before you could react, the woman took your hand and pulled you away. You stared in disbelief as her robe lay on the floor showing she wore nothing underneath. She led you to the bedroom, quickly helped you out of your clothes and did to you what your wife did to her husband.
And, you reacted. In spite of the anger, the shame, the guilt, long burning needs swept over you and you responded. All the while, you could not erase what you’d seen. The confirmation of all the asides and whispers.
When it was over - most unsatisfactorily - you dressed and went to the front door. Your wife was gone and the man sat on the sofa in a robe, smoking a cigarette and cheerfully waving at you.
She was in the kitchen, cooking dinner as if nothing had happened. As Lizabeth was present, doing her homework, there was nothing you could say. Or do. You’d calmed down by then and struggled to find an answer to what your future held. She said absolutely nothing about any of it. And, as she had for some time, slept on the sofa once you’d gone to bed.
But, more was to come.
Loud pounding at the front door awakened you from a deep sleep. Sliding you feet into your slippers and putting on your robe, you went downstairs, noting a light on in Elizabeth’s room. You opened the door to find two policemen standing there. “Get dressed! You’re coming with us.”
They wouldn’t tell you why. One officer went upstairs while you dressed, the other staying downstairs. The neighbor showed up and got Lizabeth dressed, taking her to her place. It was only in the patrol car - they didn’t handcuff you at least - that you were told your wife was in the hospital emergency room, suffering severe cuts and bruises.
“She said you did it.”
You tried to protest that you’d been sound asleep in bed but that did no good. You were booked in, photographed, told the charges, given jail clothes and informed you had one phone call. Who else could you call but your direct boss? He listened, said he’d look into it and get back to you in the morning.
You picked at breakfast when he arrived. He arranged for your release and listened to your side of the story. He promised to look into it and took you home, No one was there. You quickly dressed for work and left.
“Someone called me and told me that you did not beat your wife as she accused you. She told me where and how it happened but I’ll leave that up to you to discuss with your wife.” Your boss then told you he thought you should be very careful about the situation. “Do not let this destroy a most promising career. You can go far if you take care of this. I suggest you find a lawyer and look into a divorce.”
You had no doubt that he was right.
But, what about Lizabeth?
Fate stepped in. You’d done such a good job at a program nobody thought could work that you were going to be moved up to headquarters in Washington. Your wife just shrugged and accepted that you would take her home and not on with you. You didn’t tell Lizabeth.
The girl sensed this would be your last trip together. Although she sat up front with you, you were quiet, her mother in the back seat. Your farewell to her mother was cold and unemotional. You held your daughter tight and cried, knowing you’d probably never see one another again.
You drove away, trying not to stare into the rearview mirror.

****

Was that the end? Not quite.
The divorce paperwork was easy and within a couple of months, you learned it was just a matter of a judge completing the paperwork. You had found a girlfriend who provided what you had lacked for almost ten years. You had a convenient relationship.
And then a letter came. It was from Lizabeth. She had a two-week school vacation coming up and wanted to visit you. It was okay with her mother. You bought bus tickets so she could pick them out there. The day and time came and you waited at the bus depot for hours.
She stepped off the bus and something clutched your heart. You never saw anybody as beautiful. She ran into your arms and chattered all the way as you drove to your sparse apartment. You arranged for her to sleep in the bedroom while you slept on the sofa.
She met your girlfriend and seemed okay with her. Your girlfriend wasn’t that okay with her but you expected that.
A few days before she was due to depart, your final divorce decree arrived in the mail. Your girlfriend held a small party and, like a fool, you drank too much. You left the house in a daze to stumble through several patched of brambles and rose bushes. Lizabeth helped your girlfriend clean you up.
You watched her step on the bus knowing that this time would truly be the final time you would see her. You watched as she waved from the window, your vision blurred with tears.
It was the final betrayal. Your failure to find some way to give her a happy, stable life. Something you’ve carried deep in your heart every day since.

Dale Day is a retired US Army Master Sergeant. He enlisted in 1957 to become a veterinary assistant. But, "for the needs of the service" he was sent to the US Army Engineer School and then to southern France where he became the company clerk. After a less than thrilling year as a civilian, he re-enlisted to become a heavy truck driver. The first person who saw him at his new assignment was the Personnel Officer who saw his previous service and put him to work in Base Finance. That set the tone for the remainder of his military career as he ended up as a Personnel Staff NCO and Administrative Supervisor. Dale retired to Las Vegas where he's lived for more than 30 years. Dale is married to Alejandrina, who has taught him fluent Spanish. After having been a city bus driver, tour guide, pizza delivery, taxi driver and professional slot machine player, Dale was forced to retire due to Agent Orange disabilities. He is currently a full-time writer with a number of books self-published on Kindle and Nook. In addition, he has an ebook due to be published by XOXO Publishing titled Sonora Symphony - about an Afghan vet suffering from PTSD who is cured by American Indian methods - as well as meeting his future wife. Another publisher, Bluewood LLD, has a manuscript for the first of a fiction trilogy about the founding of the California mission. The Sailor and The Carpenter should be coming out later this year or early in 2012.
And many more.....