Week of the Big Four-Oh

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

*.*

Working on hands and knees, laying the four by four inch ceramic tile in the ten by twelve kitchen was hard, back-breaking work. Ronnie Jackson meticulously applied the bead of glue to the next tile, then matched it with the spacer. The grout bubbled up and he nodded with satisfaction.

A couple of millimeters off here, a couple of millimeters off there could throw the project off. And since Eckles Renovation & Remodeling had a 100% satisfaction guaranteed policy, Ronnie made sure each tile was precise in its placement before moving on.

As if she could sense that he'd reached the end of the row, Charlotte, Ronnie's wife called.

"Eckles Renovation and remodeling, Ronnie speaking," Ronnie answered his cell phone.

"Ronnie, it's me," Charlotte snapped, irritated.

"Uh huh," Ronnie said, already reaching for the box of spacers to begin the next row of tile.

There was a time that Ronnie would have answered the phone and his wife would have giggled and said "Hi Honey, it's me."

Ronnie couldn't remember the last time she'd said "Hi Honey."

"When are you going be finished?" Charlotte snapped.

"I'm on the Pritchard kitchen," Ronnie mused, looking at the nearly eight feet he'd completed. "Hmm, take me about three hours, give or take I guess."

"Fine," Charlotte snapped and ended the call.

Ronnie had an urge to hurry. He had an urge to cut this job short, but forced himself to move slowly, methodically.

But even as his hands did the work, his mind thought about his wife of twenty one, almost twenty two years.

Ronnie had met Charlotte Eckles on his second day with Eckles Renovation & Remodeling. Charlotte had come into John Eckles's office, excuses and apologies dripping from her lips over her latest bad report card from John W. Dawson High School.

She had been a portly brunette with long wavy hair and splotches of severe acne. Ronnie had looked at the two basketball sized buttocks bursting out of her jean cutoffs, then had returned his attention to the selection of hand tools in John's tool shed.

"My daughter," John had growled at Ronnie. "Got me? My daughter."

"Yes sir," Ronnie had said, fighting against shrugging in disinterest.

Somehow sensing that her father did not want her associating with the newest of his employees, Charlotte made a habit of smiling coquettishly and greeting Ronnie whenever their paths crossed. For his part, Ronnie was always polite to the girl, but did not encourage the attention.

"What'd I tell you, huh?" John snarled at Ronnie. "Don't need be chasing after my daughter, all right?"

"Sir, I am not chasing after your daughter," Ronnie said truthfully.

The truth was, twenty one year old Ronnie found the seventeen year old Charlotte Rayner Eckles little more than an annoyance. She was at least fifty pounds overweight, had horrible acne, and had an air of entitlement about her. Ronnie also found Charlotte to be quite immature.

"Hey, Ronnie," Charlotte simpered one day as Ronnie and another Eckles employee were unloading their equipment after a long day.

"Uh huh," Ronnie said, struggling with the unopened bag of quick drying cement.

"Listen, I'm going be eighteen on Saturday," Charlotte leaned forward, giving Ronnie an unobstructed view down the front of her blouse.

"That's nice," Ronnie said.

"Well, happy birthday," the other employee smiled.

"So, Ronnie, what you giving me for my birthday?" Charlotte cooed.

"Hmm, close your eyes," Ronnie suggested, managing to pull the bag to the tailgate of the pickup truck.

"Okay," Charlotte giggled.

"What do you see?" Ronnie asked as he slid the bag into the wheelbarrow.

"Uh, nothing," Charlotte said.

"There you go. Happy birthday," Ronnie said and wheeled the bag of cement toward the shed.

But Lois Eckles made John Eckles invite Ronnie Jackson to their home for Charlotte's birthday party. A drugstore in Dolenz, Utah sold Ronnie a nice birthday card and a Cash for Gold pawnshop in Fairway, Utah sold Ronnie a nice silver bracelet for twenty dollars.

Lois made John ask Ronnie to escort Charlotte to her senior year prom. Ronnie did escort Charlotte, wincing at the sight of her in a snug fitting sleeveless gown. Ronnie was very accommodating, though. He pose for pictures, danced with Charlotte, then took her home and kissed her good night.

A few days later, John snarled at Ronnie that Charlotte was broken-hearted; Ronnie had not called her. Ronnie pursed his lips, but did call Charlotte and asked her for a date. That date led to another date. On the fifth date, Charlotte gave Ronnie her virginity.

Tracy Lois Jackson was born five months after their wedding. And for the next ten years, Ronnie Jackson was given the shittiest of jobs that Eckles Renovations & Remodeling secured. Ronnie was sure that some of these jobs, John Eckles went out of his way to make sure Eckles Renovation & Remodeling got the jobs, just so that he could turn around and foist these back breaking jobs onto his son in law.

For the first sixteen years of their marriage, Charlotte Jackson was a good wife. She did make the effort to learn her husband's likes and dislikes. She did learn to cook his favorite meals. On Sundays, she did learn to be quiet when the Denver Broncos were on television.

Charlotte Jackson also did manage to whittle off thirty pounds. Then she gained them back. Then she'd lose ten, twenty pounds, only to pack them on again, plus an additional thirty to forty pounds.

Charlotte's skin did clear up somewhat, but she would always bear acne scars on her cheeks. Cosmetics did lessen the severity of the appearance of the scarring, but they were always visible.

When Tracy started school at Grover Cleveland Elementary school, Charlotte was hired by Garland County Public Library. The pay was minimal at best, but the benefits were tremendous. The health insurance, dental insurance was well worth the low salary.

Then, just after they'd celebrated their sixteenth year of marriage, Charlotte's cousin Darlene returned to Dolenz, Utah, from parts unknown. Darlene had husband number three or four in tow.

Darlene was loud, brash, profane, and Gary, her husband was not much better. Worse than that, Gary was a Dallas Cowboys fan.

Darlene was not a good influence on her cousin. Charlotte became loud, brash, and complaining. She became neglectful in household duties, including cooking.

Ronnie didn't mind picking up the slack. He was a sufficient cook; he wasn't a stranger to scrubbing a bot or pan or two. But picking up the slack once in a while suddenly became nearly every single night as Charlotte and Darlene and Gary found things to do outside of the Jackson home.

Tracy also learned to clean and cook and sew buttons onto her school uniforms. But somehow, it seemed that Tracy resented her father, rather than her mother for her mother's neglectful behavior.

Ronnie had timed his job nearly perfectly. Three hours after Charlotte's phone call, he was finishing the border at the entrance from kitchen to living room. Slowly, he stood, slowly he straightened his back.

"Good God, I am getting too old for this," Ronnie thought as he gathered his tools and the few tiles left over.

Leaving the Pritchard house, Ronnie called John Eckles. He still winced whenever he heard the man's slurred speech. The stroke had nearly killed the large man, and his recovery was slow.

John had suffered his massive stroke moments after his wife, Lois had confessed to having breast cancer. So, even after having a double mastectomy, while undergoing radiation, Lois was saddled with caring for her husband. Dennis Eckles, Brian Eckles, and Paul Eckles did what they could to help. Ronnie Jackson also assisted with the care of John Eckles when called upon to do so.

Charlotte Eckles, the only girl of the family, and the baby of the family was a constant companion to her mother. It was Charlotte that drove her mother to the hospital in Fairway, Utah, held her mother's hand while her mother weakly sobbed in pain.

Lois lost the fight, succumbing to the disease. John also seemed to lose the will to live, but Death did not seem to want to take Jonathon Dennis Eckles just yet.

So, John was wheeled into the office, day after day. Day after day, John sat behind his desk, and cursed his useless left arm as he attempted to type on the computer keyboard. Then, at the end of the day, Dennis, Brian, or Paul would drive John home.

"Yes sir, leaving the Pritchard job now; it's finished up," Ronnie said as John grunted, barked and wheezed into the phone.

At home, Ronnie sniffed the air appreciatively. Pork chops, mashed potatoes and French cut green beans was one of his favorite meals. After John's debilitating stroke, Charlotte had switched the Jackson household to a heart healthy diet. The diet had helped Charlotte whittle forty pounds off, but she was still quite rotund.

Ronnie had accused Tracy of leaving home, going to Brigham Young University just to get out of eating the cardboard meals Charlotte was feeding them. And Tracy had not denied this fact.

Ronnie moved to kiss his wife as she puttered at the stove. She waved him off and pinched her nostrils.

After dumping his clothes into his hamper, Ronnie washed that day's sweat from his stiff, sore body. This work had been grueling enough when he had been a young man of twenty one years. Now, at forty three years old, it was nearly impossible, certainly impractical to do. But Dennis, Brian, and Paul weren't going to subject their bodies to the demands. And with the mounting medical bills from John Eckles's rehabilitation, Dennis, Brian and Paul declared there was no money in the budget to hire anyone new.

Toweling off, Ronnie ignored the handsome, muscled man in the steamed up mirror. Ronnie dressed in pull over shirt and shorts. Then he came downstairs just as Charlotte was placing his plate in front of his chair.

"And, there's a hot apple pie for dessert," Charlotte announced as she put a frosted mug and a can of beer in front of him.

"Oh boy," Ronnie said, even as a ball of bile was forming in his stomach.

Ronnie remembered the last time Charlotte had poured him a frosted mug of beer. At that time, he had smiled, happy for the refreshing beverage.

On her thirty fifth birthday, a few months before their seventeenth anniversary, while Tracy was out with friends, Charlotte poured Ronnie a beer into a frosted mug. Ronnie sipped the ice cold beverage, relishing the crisp taste.

Then Charlotte came out with, "Honey, there's something, I need to talk to you..."

Much hemming and hawing followed. Ronnie continued to stare at his wife, not saying a word.

Finally, Ronnie said, "Sure wish you'd just get to the point; this beer's just about gone."

Charlotte glared at Ronnie, then said that Darlene and Gary were swingers. They had an open marriage. Then Charlotte asked Ronnie if he had ever thought about sex with other women.

"Of course. I'm a man. Of course I've looked at that Shelley girl down at the gas station," Ronnie admitted.

"Shelley? At the gas... Yeah right, like you'd ever have a chance with that," Charlotte snorted.

"But I'm married," Ronnie continued. "So, yeah, I look, yeah I think about it, and then it stops right there."

"But uh, supposed it didn't have stop right there?" Charlotte suggested. "Supposed you could go ahead and do what you wanted? You could do it, then come home, no worries."

"But I couldn't, Charlotte," Ronnie said. "We're married. We took vows. In front of everyone, we took vows."

He drained his mug and got to his feet. He took the mug to the sink and hand washed it.

"Swore to be faithful to one another, swore to forsake all others, even that Shelley girl down at the gas station," Ronnie said.

"But we could take new vows," Charlotte bargained.

"No Charlotte," Ronnie said forcefully, putting the wet glass into the freezer. "Them old vows are working just fine. And Darlene and Gary might be in an open marriage, but we are not. We are not, nor will we ever be in an open marriage."

"But..." Charlotte said.

"No. No buts. End of discussion," Ronnie said, leaving the kitchen.

Ronnie had hoped that would be the end of it, but it wasn't. Twice more, Charlotte brought up the idea of an open marriage, twice more Ronnie said no.

"But Honey," Charlotte whined. "It would just be an affirmation of our love for each other. We love each other enough to let each other do this because we trust each other."

"Holy Mother, do you even hear the complete and utter bullshit you're trying to spout?" Ronnie said. "No Charlotte. If it takes me letting you spread your legs like that whore cousin of yours to show you that I love you, then I guess I don't love you."

The fourth time Charlotte brought up the discussion of opening their marriage, Ronnie called her father. Charlotte sat, watching as the cell phone rang.

"Hey John, how's it going?" Ronnie said.

Charlotte's face paled when she realized Ronnie was talking with her father. Then, worse still, Ronnie asked to talk with Lois.

"Hi Lois, listen, Charlotte wants run something by you," Ronnie said. "Here, Charlotte, tell your mother what horse crap Darlene's been feeding you."

Charlotte took the cell phone from Ronnie's outstretched hand. Then she tried to get up from the kitchen table. Ronnie had anticipated this move and kept Charlotte in her seat, a beefy paw holding her in place. Trapped, Charlotte chattered about utter nonsense and finally ended the call.

"You son of a bitch," Charlotte snarled hatefully at Ronnie.

"Listen, Charlotte, and listen good," Ronnie hissed. "Bring this 'open marriage' bullshit up one more time? You won't have a marriage to open up; we'll just get a divorce."

And Charlotte had not brought it up again. Ronnie was relieved; his putting his foot down also seemed to cool Darlene and Gary's attempts at friendship. The toxic twins, as Ronnie had dubbed them quit coming around the house so often.

Now, five years later, Ronnie watched as his wife poured him a mug of beer. He watched the foam nearly cresting the top of the mug; Charlotte couldn't pour a beer very well.

"You know, this coming Tuesday, I'm turning forty," Charlotte started as Ronnie chewed the first mouthful of pork chop.

"Yep," Ronnie said, swallowing.

"And, I was a virgin when you and I met," Charlotte continued.

"Not sure how those two facts match up, but okay. You're turning forty, and you were a virgin," Ronnie said, tearing off a second chunk of pork chop.

"I mean, forty. The big four oh," Charlotte said. "And in all that time? I've only had one man."

"Lucky for you, that man was me," Ronnie said. "Man! Used bacon with the string beans? Mm-mm!"

"But you, you had what? At least ten women?" Charlotte said. "I mean, how is that fair?"

"Life's not always fair," Ronnie said, sipping his beer.

"So, I was thinking, since it's my birthday, I mean, the big four oh, and after taking care of my momma and dad all that time, I deserve to you know let my hair down, get a little wild. So, next week, Darlene and I, we're going to Las Vegas; she got us a great deal for a week at one of the casinos," Charlene said.

Ronnie continued to eat. He swallowed his mouthful, then washed it down with another swig of his beer.

"And while we're there, we uh, we might, you know, meet a couple of guys," Charlotte pressed on. "I mean, not necessarily for sex, but just a date, just you know, just a date. Just let me experience what another man is like; make me appreciate what I have at home all the more, you know?"

"Mm, gravy's just about perfect," Ronnie said.

"So, what do you think?" Charlotte asked.

"Told you, gravy's just about perfect," Ronnie said.

"No, Ronnie, about me, you know, spreading my wings, getting some experience," Charlotte snapped.

"Spreading your legs, you mean," Ronnie said.

"Listen, I've already set it up," Charlotte snapped. "So, you can either let me do this, or you can get a divorce."

"Okay, I'll get a divorce," Ronnie agreed. "There any ice cream go with that pie?"

"Wait, what? Ronnie, you know how expensive a divorce, you're not even willing talk about this?" Charlotte gasped, stunned.

"What is there to talk about? You just sat there, sat right there and told me you've already set it all up. You and that skank cousin of yours are going to Vegas, no asking me about it, just decided you're going to Vegas. The hell with the mountain of bills we've got here; you're turning the big four oh, and you're going to Las Vegas. Oh. And while you're there, you might have a date. Even though you're a married woman, you might have a date. Then, you tell me I can either go along with this plan of yours, or I can get a divorce," Ronnie said, pushing his empty plate away. "That pie? There any ice cream go with it?"

"But it's just for this one week," Charlotte said.

"One week, one day, one minute, doesn't matter, Charlotte," Ronnie said, cutting himself a wedge of the pie. "Cheating is cheating and I refuse to be married to a cheating whore. No, no ice cream, damn it."

"You, you can have Darlene," Charlotte bartered.

"Oh my God no," Ronnie laughed. "Good God. That skank? Charlotte, I wouldn't fuck Darlene with Samson's dick."

As if he knew he'd been summoned, their gray tabby let out a meow. Ronnie blew on the forkful of pie, then put it into his mouth. He screwed up his face in disgust.

"Aw, great. Just great. You used that Aspartame crap, didn't you," Ronnie said, pushing the plate away.

Ronnie got to his feet, wiping at his tongue with his hand. He left the kitchen.

"Don't worry, I'll meet with a lawyer tomorrow; get this divorce started," Ronnie said, heading up the stairs. "Pritchard job's finished and Dennis didn't schedule anything else until he can pull the permit on the savings and loan job."

"But Ronnie," Charlotte cried out. "You're not even listening to me!"

"Seems fitting," Ronnie called down the stairs. "You're not listening to me. I told you, bring this shit up again? We'll get a divorce. Well, you brought it up again. So, we're divorcing."

In the third bedroom, which they had designated as their home office, Ronnie turned on the computer. The behemoth was seven years old, was antiquated, but it still worked, it still connected to the Internet.

Typing in his search, Ronnie looked up lawyers. He saw that there was a Penny Barnes in Cutler's Field that had an on-line form and he filled it out. A ding a moment later alerted him that he had a ten am appointment with Penny Barnes for the following morning.

After cleaning the kitchen, Charlotte climbed the stairs. She disrobed and crawled into their bed, nude. Ronnie was almost amused as Charlotte pressed her flabby body against him, rubbed her profusion of pubic hair against him.

"No thanks," Ronnie said and rolled away from Charlotte. "Good night."

Ronnie woke up at the usual time; five thirty in the morning. He did not have a remodeling job to go to, but he still woke up at his usual time. Quietly, he slipped out of bed and softly shut their bedroom door.

Downstairs, he made a pot of coffee, then used his cell phone to check his emails. The office of Penny Barnes had sent him a follow up email, outlining what he was to bring with him for his meeting with Penny Barnes.

At seven o'clock, Ronnie was debating with himself about whether or not to make a second pot of coffee. He heard Charlotte lumbering around upstairs and decided against a second pot of coffee. If she wanted a cup, she could make her own pot of coffee.

"No, no, I told him, let me have this or..." Charlotte was talking into her cell phone as she plodded down the stairs.