This is Texas

So what happened is Bruce Story, who had been my wife’s stand partner in the civic symphony for fifteen years, suddenly seems to be around a lot, seems to be spending extra time with Connie, seems to be the frequent subject of her conversations. Suddenly she is serving on the symphony board as secretary to his president, suddenly she is in a string quartet with him, and suddenly she has extra rehearsals and performances. Suddenly she is real interested in doing gym time, real interested in dyeing the grey out of her hair, facial creams, wrinkle creams.

I notice Connie's growing concern over unimportant and secondary signs of ageing. I tell her I love her and care more about her than about wrinkles and gray hair. Her reaction is startling. She displays anger in response to my assurances of love. I'm startled and puzzled, but I love her give her space on the issue.

Suddenly the poor, lonely, divorced Bruce is invited over to have dinner with our family. Later, he goes on a business trip to Japan and returns with presents for the family. It is a tea set, Japanese teas, candy. . . other gifts. Connie places the tea set on display in our living room.

Suddenly in November she stops telling me she loves me. My “I love you’s.” receive an “I know.” rather than an “I love you” response. That same month Bruce’s daughter tells a room full of my students within my hearing that, “Mr. White’s wife is my Daddy’s girlfriend.” I’m thick. I’m clueless. I cannot imagine what is happening, but something is happening.

So in December one evening Connie seems to be sneaking around the house, acting odd. She is taking stationary into the bathroom and locking the door. She comes out with a note card in a sealed envelope. I ask her what is going on. She says, “nothing.” I say she is “acting strangely.” She says I am “not allowing her any privacy.” I ask, “what is the note card.” She says she has written a note to her “special friend.” She says it’s “for Bruce.” I ask to read it. She says, “no.” I ask her, “what kind of note could she be writing to another man that her husband can’t read.”

She says nothing. The truth is out. I'm thick, but I'm not igneous.

So now I think: This is Texas, at the very least I owe Bruce a punch in the mouth.

Because this is Texas, I think he should be happy to take the punch in the mouth in lieu of shotgun pellets in the butt.

After all, this is Texas.