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Description
My dad's hands were tight behind his back. His left hand held his right wrist, and his right hand was a ball. I couldn't see his expression, but his frightening voice had already built up the tension.
"Let's skip right past the part where I found you at a bar," he growled.
"You followed me?" my mom shuddered.
"I've worked two jobs for three years so you don't have to work. I've split my earnings down the middle at your request and gave you half of what I had. I have provided a decent living for your fatherless children, and for what?! So you can gallivant around with your boyfriends?"
"I wasn't getting any attention from you! You're never home! You barely look at me, much less touch me. What was I supposed to do? Live without affection for the rest of my life?"
My dad stayed still and silent. He didn't respond to stupidity. He believed that idiots deserved nothing to talk to but a wall, and that's what he became. He stood there, like a wall, waiting for her to say something worth saying. At least, that's what my mother saw. What I saw was shocking. My dad's hands shook with rage, like tiger on a very frail leash.
"I'll admit, I asked that we go through marriage counseling and you gave it to me. But, I think we're just comfortable with different things. You're not comfortable in a polyandrous relationship. I am. You're not comfortable with penis inside you. I am. See? We're just too different."
His left hand opened wide. His right hand was free. But instead of swinging, they just went further up his back. His impulses were under such control, and at the same time, they were all over the place. I'll admit, I might not have even pulled a punch at her. For that remark, my hand would have flown freely at her.
"Was that a serious statement?" he asked with the calmest tone he could manage.
"Yes! We just have a lot to work through. Especially your sexuality."
He took a deep breath and let it all out at a moderate pace. "I'm going to have the divorce papers on our bed in the morning, and I'll be out of the house by the end of this week. You have until then to get your prospects together."
My mom really started to cry. "What about the children?"
"I suggest you find the sons of a bitch their real fathers, and hope you can get child support out of them."
Mom stood up to meet him. "I'll make a court case out of this! You won't get away with this!"
I could hear the smirk on my dads face when he spoke. "I have pictures of you with your boyfriend at the bar, on my phone, which I can easily connect to adultery, voiding all contracts I have to your children. And for you, I have two words: prenuptial agreement."
Mom cupped her hands around her mouth in defeat.
"You must have forgotten signing that. I would never be so stupid as to enter a marriage without my affairs in order. Every check I ever gave you has been documented. Every receipt has been logged. You will owe me over five hundred thousand dollars in borrowed money. And when I rip you to shreds in the court room, the state of Florida will be owning me a refund on all the court costs. You, my disgusting, loathsome, wretched, STD ridden, slutty, waste of a wife of three years, will get exactly what you've been asking for. You'll be spending a lot more time with me, seeing me, listening to me, feeling every scrap and crumb of affection I have for you. And when the dust settles and you look back on all this-" finally, my dads hands left his back to present the three story house with wide flat screen television sets in every room, fabulous wardrobes with racks for moms shoes, king sized beds with state of the art adjustable mattresses, and an SUV to boot. "everything you have, everything I've given you, everything you could have thanked me for just by remaining faithful to me, I will look down at you, smiling, waving, turning my back on you forever! Then! And only then, will you be free to have your ass rubbed by Dr. Dolittle." He tossed the file of hard-copy photos at her.
"I'm begging you, please don't do this," she cried.
His right hand balled up again, but he turned his whole body away from her and held his wrist to his chest. Now I saw his expression. Now I saw the truth. He would hit her. He would lash out. He would probably kill her if his court case wasn't riding on his every move from here on in. If he took one swing at her, even if he pulled the punch, it would still be a threat on her life, and that would lose him his case. His hands spoke louder than his mouth or his wallet. He wanted to kill her. He wanted to beat her to a pulp and just not stop.
He massaged his wrist and his fist relaxed. It hurt him that he couldn't wail on her. It hurt him that he couldn't physically show her the platonic pain. It hurt him, more than the affair itself, that he couldn't have his revenge; he would have to settle for justice. His hands said it all.

Description
My dad's hands were tight behind his back. His left hand held his right wrist, and his right hand was a ball. I couldn't see his expression, but his frightening voice had already built up the tension.
"Let's skip right past the part where I found you at a bar," he growled.
"You followed me?" my mom shuddered.
"I've worked two jobs for three years so you don't have to work. I've split my earnings down the middle at your request and gave you half of what I had. I have provided a decent living for your fatherless children, and for what?! So you can gallivant around with your boyfriends?"
"I wasn't getting any attention from you! You're never home! You barely look at me, much less touch me. What was I supposed to do? Live without affection for the rest of my life?"
My dad stayed still and silent. He didn't respond to stupidity. He believed that idiots deserved nothing to talk to but a wall, and that's what he became. He stood there, like a wall, waiting for her to say something worth saying. At least, that's what my mother saw. What I saw was shocking. My dad's hands shook with rage, like tiger on a very frail leash.
"I'll admit, I asked that we go through marriage counseling and you gave it to me. But, I think we're just comfortable with different things. You're not comfortable in a polyandrous relationship. I am. You're not comfortable with penis inside you. I am. See? We're just too different."
His left hand opened wide. His right hand was free. But instead of swinging, they just went further up his back. His impulses were under such control, and at the same time, they were all over the place. I'll admit, I might not have even pulled a punch at her. For that remark, my hand would have flown freely at her.
"Was that a serious statement?" he asked with the calmest tone he could manage.
"Yes! We just have a lot to work through. Especially your sexuality."
He took a deep breath and let it all out at a moderate pace. "I'm going to have the divorce papers on our bed in the morning, and I'll be out of the house by the end of this week. You have until then to get your prospects together."
My mom really started to cry. "What about the children?"
"I suggest you find the sons of a bitch their real fathers, and hope you can get child support out of them."
Mom stood up to meet him. "I'll make a court case out of this! You won't get away with this!"
I could hear the smirk on my dads face when he spoke. "I have pictures of you with your boyfriend at the bar, on my phone, which I can easily connect to adultery, voiding all contracts I have to your children. And for you, I have two words: prenuptial agreement."
Mom cupped her hands around her mouth in defeat.
"You must have forgotten signing that. I would never be so stupid as to enter a marriage without my affairs in order. Every check I ever gave you has been documented. Every receipt has been logged. You will owe me over five hundred thousand dollars in borrowed money. And when I rip you to shreds in the court room, the state of Florida will be owning me a refund on all the court costs. You, my disgusting, loathsome, wretched, STD ridden, slutty, waste of a wife of three years, will get exactly what you've been asking for. You'll be spending a lot more time with me, seeing me, listening to me, feeling every scrap and crumb of affection I have for you. And when the dust settles and you look back on all this-" finally, my dads hands left his back to present the three story house with wide flat screen television sets in every room, fabulous wardrobes with racks for moms shoes, king sized beds with state of the art adjustable mattresses, and an SUV to boot. "everything you have, everything I've given you, everything you could have thanked me for just by remaining faithful to me, I will look down at you, smiling, waving, turning my back on you forever! Then! And only then, will you be free to have your ass rubbed by Dr. Dolittle." He tossed the file of hard-copy photos at her.
"I'm begging you, please don't do this," she cried.
His right hand balled up again, but he turned his whole body away from her and held his wrist to his chest. Now I saw his expression. Now I saw the truth. He would hit her. He would lash out. He would probably kill her if his court case wasn't riding on his every move from here on in. If he took one swing at her, even if he pulled the punch, it would still be a threat on her life, and that would lose him his case. His hands spoke louder than his mouth or his wallet. He wanted to kill her. He wanted to beat her to a pulp and just not stop.
He massaged his wrist and his fist relaxed. It hurt him that he couldn't wail on her. It hurt him that he couldn't physically show her the platonic pain. It hurt him, more than the affair itself, that he couldn't have his revenge; he would have to settle for justice. His hands said it all.