All’s fair in love & war

Chapter 5

I hurried back home with my tools in tow. I typically come in through the front door, which triggers our doorbell camera and all of that “Internet of Things” bullshit. Today, I came in through the garage though. I wanted to grab my multi-meter to throw in the toolbox. I had a hunch I’d be able to use it to measure the effects of the screwdrivers on objects. If not, I was sure it would do something interesting.

After setting down the enchanted toolbox, I rifled through my box of electrical odds and ends until I found a cheap, old multimeter. I was eager to get inside and see Lillian, so I quickly tossed it in the enchanted box and let it work its magic.

“Universal Meter: Measures any characteristic of any tangible physical object.”

“Pretty self-explanatory,” I said to myself while admiring the sleek and shiny new meter. The aesthetics changed significantly from the cheap plastic multimeter I had thrown in. Most notable was the omission of a selector wheel and the absence of a ground probe. The minimalistic design retained only the screen and a single probe.

With curiosity, I pressed the probe to my chest. The screen immediately sprang to life, and several variables cycled on the screen. With no clear way to select something, I tried visualizing what I wanted to measure. I started simple. I imagined seeing my heart rate in BPM, and as I expected, a big 76 BPM showed up on the screen. I imagined something a bit weirder, and the screen shifted to blood flow rate and showed 1.02 gallons per minute. “Now for something more abstract.” I shifted the probe to my nipple and pictured a sensitivity reading. Surprisingly, data did populate on the screen, though I didn’t recognize the units. I visualized sensitivity as a fractional subjective measurement, with 10 being the maximum sensitivity possible and 0 being the absence of sensitivity. This time, the readout shifted to show 2/10. I moved the probe to my forearm, and it dropped to 1/10.

“I’m going to be measuring EVERYTHING with this bad boy!” I thought with a smile on my face.

Despite my curiosity, I still wanted to get inside and see Lillian. I wondered if the short time under the influence of the sentimental socket and having sex the previous night had helped our relationship any. Sometimes, a little erotic stress relief goes a long way… especially since it had been so long since we were intimate.

In a snap, I let the probe retract and put away my toolbox where it wouldn’t get messed with. Then I opened the door to the house.

The door opened to the sound of exaggerated laughter. About the only time, Lillian laughed like that was when her friend Laura called to gossip. Not wanting to disturb her, I quietly took off my shoes in the mud room and walked into the living room without announcing myself. Lillian’s and Laura’s voices echoed through the house. It sounded like they were FaceTiming each other in the bedroom. I half listened to their conversation while I scrounged the room for the TV remote.

“Ah hah!” I celebrated as I pulled the pesky remote from behind the couch cushions. I was about to turn on the TV when something caught my ear.

Laura: “So, have you told him yet?

Lillian: “No, but I’m going too… last night we kind of made up, though. Call it a lapse of judgment. I guess it just all started looking too real. I got nostalgic, I guess.

Laura: “You didn’t sleep with that loser again, did you?”

*inaudible*

Laura: “Jesus girl! You can’t be doing that anymore. Tell him tonight! If you start feeling nostalgic again, just go see Chase. You and I both know he can solve that little problem for you!”

Lillian: “You’re right, you’re right. Everything Tom said was just… just perfect yesterday. But he’s still Tom. I’m going to do it tonight, Laura… I better give Chase a ring and let him know I’m moving in until I get my house back in the divorce.”

Laura: “That’s the spirit! Dump that loser! Text me after you do it!”

I didn’t hear them tell each other goodbye. My feet had already carried me back to the cool, quiet of the garage before they could hang up. I had known things were bad… but I never would have expected that Lillian was cheating on me. No, not even in a million years.

Sure, I figured a divorce was in our future, but I expected that there would be some discussions, attempts to fix our issues, counseling… or anything else before going full nuclear and voiding our vows.

Shock was the only real emotion that was registering in my mind at first. My instinct was to open the garage door, hop back in my car, and just drive somewhere, anywhere. Just as I was about to trigger my garage door opener, the glowing purple aura of my enchanted toolbox reached out from the corner of my eye.

“What am I doing?” I said while shaking my head. “I’m a mechanic… I fix things… a-and I have the tools to fix this too.”

Denial is the first stage of grief after shock begins to fade. For most people in my shoes, there’s no fixing things, and the denial is just a futile but necessary step to healing. In my case, that wasn’t true, though.

On autopilot, I pulled the will clamps from the enchanted box. My hands were shaking and sweating as I pre-adjusted the jaws to the correct spacing to clamp to my wife’s wrist. With my empty hand, I hefted up the toolbox and barged back into my home.

“Lillian, I’m home!” I yelled with a twinge of anger creeping into my voice.

From the bedroom, I heard quickly, “Sorry, Chase, he’s home; got to go!” Before she replied to me and shouted, “You’re home early!”

I stepped into the bedroom and gazed sternly into her wide, guilty eyes. “Who was that on the phone?” I asked as civil as I could muster.

“O-oh, just Laura… Not that it’s any of your business.” She replied and crossed her arms.

Despite my anger and barely controlled aggression, I couldn’t help but laugh as Lillian’s permanently hard nipples peaked through the fabric of her blouse. When her crossed arms tightened the fabric, that reminder of my handwork showed proud and prominent. “Oh please, that was Chase, wasn’t it?” I asked rhetorically. “Don’t bother lying. I already know about you two.”

Her arms dropped to her side. Several emotions flashed behind her eyes. Surprise. Fury. Disgust. Then, something I couldn’t quite read.

She reached for her phone and furiously typed in the passcode. I didn’t know what the hell she was trying to do, but I didn’t like it. While she was focused on her phone, I snapped the will clamp onto her arm. Her body locked into place, and her phone fell onto the floor with a clattering sound. I looked down to see the digits 9-1-1 on the screen but not dialing.

“What the hell, Lillian?” I asked her frozen form while I cleared the phone app. “I really didn’t mean to scare you this much… I’m sorry.”

I genuinely felt terrible. Sure, I was angry, but I had no intention to harm her… at the worst, I was just going to use the mallet and socket and make her forget Chase and be happy with me again. I would never lay a hand on her or hurt her like she seemed to think I was going to.

With my anger in the backseat for a moment, I grabbed the mallet and said, “You will always tell me the entire truth when I ask you a question.” I tapped her furrowed forehead twice. Then I added, “You won’t try to run or call for help when I let you go.”

Just in case, I went ahead and placed the socked labeled “Lillian” on the sentimental wrench and set it to “N.” Finally, I removed the clamp from her wrist.

“Why were you trying to call 911?” I asked as soon as she began moving again.

“Laura suggested I frame you for domestic ****, so I’ll get more in the divorce. So I’m going to call and claim you were threatening to beat me.”

Just like that, my anger was back. I still wasn’t going to hurt the damn girl, but I sure wished I could have recorded that confession and showed the police… or her mom…

“Seriously Lillian!? You know good and well I would never lay a hand on you… and I would have given you your fair share in a divorce without question. Ruining my life with domestic **** charges is not necessary.”

She maintained a pretty neutral expression thanks to the sentimental socket, but she responded. “I know you wouldn’t… but Chase doesn’t have as much money, and I think I deserve more than half anyway.”

I took a deep breath to control my anger before asking another question. “How long have you been cheating on me?”

“Ever since I quit my job two years ago.” She replied deadpan.

“Two! TWO years?!” I exclaimed incredulously. I didn’t even wait for any further explanation. With a click, the will clamp was back on Lillian’s wrist.

Defeated, I lay on the bed to wallow in self-pity. After a few minutes of brooding, I finally looked up at my perfidious wife. “You really do look fucking great now that your body is 25 again…” I said quietly. “No, I don’t think this is the end of our relationship… things are just going to change a lot.”

The bed frame groaned as I leaped up. My guilt and self-pity were assuaged and replaced with a renewed sense of righteousness and determination. A metallic clang sounded through the air as I flung the toolbox open and prepared to give Lillian one hell of a tune-up.