What are you doing New Year's Eve?

Joanie and I are in a good place. We had three children. All three are on their own now -- and two have families! We both still work. But much more of our time is "our" time now, and much more of our money is "our" money. I'm a middle manager at a telecom company, and Joanie is a clerk in an accounting office. The house is paid off -- so I repeat: we are in a good place.

It had been up and down with our sex life, though. It started to tank about twenty years ago -- and for a while there, I thought we were through. She was irritable all the time, and I couldn't engage her in any meaningful conversation. Sex virtually stopped. When I asked her what's wrong, she would vaguely grab her stomach and say, "I'm not sure."

I suppose this is why I gave the okay for her to go to New York. Joannie said that she, her best friend Natalie and a bunch of girls from their graduating class had vowed to meet in New York on New Year's Eve in 1997. I swear I never heard that story before today... and that's the kind of information I would have remembered.

But this was no time to prove how acute my memory was. Joannie had been sad for the better part of a year by then -- and I was afraid what would happen to her if I dug in. So I okayed the trip. But make no mistake, 1997 was the worst New Years Eve of my life. I didn't go out. I didn't even watch the ball drop on television. I played the martyr ... I played the abandoned husband.

Unfortunately, her return didn't help my mood. She came home, kissed me perfunctorily... and was short on details. I tried to engage her about the trip over the next few days, but she was alternately tired, busy and dismissive. Now, I'm a bit of a grinder in life and in relationships, so I put up with infrequent sex and diminished emotional engagement, hoping that she'd snap out of it.

But that was a long time ago. Today, it was Sunday, and I suggested we go to brunch. She lit right up, and we had a really great time! But on the way home, I decided to swing for the fences. I stopped at a roadside flea market. She knows I hate those things... so I was probably going to score a lot of wife points.

The next thing I knew I was browsing jewelry and hand-made scarves -- living the dream! Joannie said, "You don't have to look at these with me. Is there anything you'd like to look at while we're here?"

"Books!" I said, pointing to a large table full of them. "I'll be over there."

I'm a hobbyist photographer, and one of those "coffee table" books caught my eye: New Years Eve at Times Square -- a Retrospective in Photos.

With a quick perusal I learned that New Years at Times Square has been going on since 1904. The photos in this book were stunning, and it wasn't a book of cliches. Sure... it had the ball dropping again and again. But more so, it seemed to be a book of people... people on the past while embracing the potential of a new year.

When we got home, Joannie went into the living room to watch TV, but I went down into my office where there was good light and plenty of room to spread open the book. Even back in 1904, the black and white photos were everything I hoped they would be. Some images caught the ball dropping, the confetti -- the cliches. But an equal number caught the faces in the crowd. It was the story of New Year's Eve celebrations in a series of candid portraits.

The book was organized in the order of years, and it was fun to see the fashions change with a flip of the page. I wasn't thinking about what years were what in personal terms. But when I landed in 1997, there was a photo of Joannie and Natalie. What are the odds!

But Joannie was snuggled up to a man that wasn't me, and Natalie was with the guy that was not Stephen. So much for a "girls trip" to Manhattan.

The timing explained Joannie's malaise during those years. She had been having an affair! And I -- the world's biggest sucker -- sent her to meet her lover... on what was certainly the loneliest day of my life.

Now, there is no way I was going to share a bed with her -- ever again! So I needed a cover story. Fortunately, my basement office had a couch and a bathroom. If I just stay here, I thought, she will eventually come down to see if I'm okay. I'll duck in the bathroom and say I had food poisoning.

When she came down, however, it was Joannie who said she really wasn't feeling very well. Even though I was in the bathroom, I heard her fall. She had passed out on the carpet, so I called 911.

Joannie had been complaining about "stomach" (read "woman") problems all her life. In 1997, I counted this as part of her general malaise. I can't speak to back then, but today she had complications from endometriosis. She could have gone septic and died! They got to her in time, but she had to undergo an emergency hysterectomy.

A nurse found me after the surgery, and she brought me to the recovery area. She said the surgery went well and that Joan would be awake shortly. I could tell she was starting to regain consciousness... because she was talking nonsense, like when you are waking up from a dream.

"Freddy... Freddy..."... and then she was awake.

After three days of observation, they let her go home. She had been eating small amounts of food and drinking some tea. But make no mistake, she was very much "out of it" for many days... like many people are after surgery.

Now, I should have waited, but I was anxious to find out more about Freddy. So, under the guise of humor, I told her that she was talking in her sleep before she woke up from the anesthesia. She laughed nervously and said, "Oh yeah? What did I say?"

"It was mostly babble... like dreams are... nonsensical. The only thing you said that we could make out was, 'Freddie... Freddie.'... but I knew they were just dream words because we don't have any Freddys in our life."

Now, Joannie was plenty sick, so she was already white. But after hearing what she said in her sleep, she went whiter still. Then she winced, bent over and held her stomach.

"I'm alright. I'm alright. Just a little pain. I need to go lie down in bed."

In retrospect, this was her buying time. But safety first, so I walked up the stairs behind her in case she fell and tucked her in... and double checked that she had everything she needed at her bedside.

She said, "Come to think of it, one of my customers is named Fred. Maybe I cancelled his account during surgery!" she said jokingly.

"But look... I'm really tired, and I'm going to try to get some sleep. I love you, Bill. Thanks for taking care of me."

I said, "It is my pleasure"... but I knew that her tone was off. I suspected the stomach pain was for show, and the "I love you Bill" seemed calculated. Time to check out any and all the Freds in her life.

I know Joannie's section supervisor pretty well. I've met her at work functions through the years, and she's been pretty engaging. So, I thought I'd get to the bottom of this Freddy business.

"Shirley? This is Bill Pratt, Joannie's husband."

"Bill! Great to hear from you! How did the surgery go?"

"They had no complications, and she's on her way to recovery."

"Great news."

"I agree. A funny thing happened in the hospital, though. When she was waking up, she was in distress about one of her accounts. So, I'm trying to be proactive and put her at rest. Is one of her customers named Fred? If not, how about someone at work?"

"That's funny. Talk about dedication... tending to accounts while under anesthesia! Give me a few minutes, and I'll call you back."

She called me back within the hour. None of Joannie's accounts had a Fred associated with them. Furthermore, there were no Freds at the company either. At this point I'm thinking that I have a photo of Fred in my new book... and I think I know how to prove it.

The hysterectomy gave me about six weeks where I didn't have to explain the lack of sexual advances. It was harder to justify me moving into the guest room, though. I told her that sleeping alone will optimize her healing.... that I'd feel guilty tossing and turning and waking her up. Besides, I'd put a monitor beside the bed, and all she had to do was call.

She balked. She said she needed me beside her. That pissed me off... and unfortunately, my resentment found its voice.

"That's not true. You go away more than most wives -- and you even seem to look forward to it! I remember one New Years Eve where I would have loved to have you here with me... but you ran off with your friends instead.

That sucked, Joan -- that just sucked! You've proven you can sleep without me. Just do it now... now that it's for your own good."

"What have I done!" thought Joan. "I risked my marriage by being selfish and stupid with that affair. I know I should tell him. But if I do, he'll leave me... or will he? He wouldn't throw away 30 years of marriage, would he?"

"But I miss you when I'm away."... Joannie said... legitimately tearing up.

"I think your illness might be making you delusional," I said. "It seemed to me like you hated to come home from that New York trip... and a few others around that time.

"But now's not the time for all that. This is the time for sleep -- and where I choose to sleep is not open for discussion. I'll be staying in the guest room until further notice."

Now, I have a professional-grade scanner, a good computer and a top photo processing program. So I scanned the photo with the two cheating whores, cropped them perfectly -- so there was no question who we were looking at -- and let the program optimize those images.

I created a 10 x 8 portrait of the two couples that looked like it was shot yesterday with the best lighting in the best equipment available. There was no question as to who these people were -- and when I added some vignette, the background faded, so it was even more so.

I did "cheat" a little because I lost the photo's title in this process. So I took the original title, shrunk it down and placed it tastefully on the photo. The original said, "New Years Eve at Times Square, 1997." I changed it to, "Two Couples Enjoy New Year's Eve at Times Square, 1997."

I have the original if I ever need to prove anything, but I needed three 10 x 8s where there would be no question what the viewers were looking at -- and what the photographer understood he was looking at... on the last day of 1997... on the last day of my marriage.

But here's the problem. Although I am "sure" that Joanie cheated on me, to make an indictment, I need to be absolutely sure. I need personal testimony and corroboration that matches the physical evidence. Right now I only have a "theory" of the crime. But I need to establish the "facts" of the crime... which will be the tricky part.

The issue is, if I confronted Joanie with the evidence I had now, she would probably try to spin it. She would say or do anything to save our marriage. Plus, she's already been lying for decades, so I doubt I can use her to establish the fact of the crime. I can use Natalie, though -- and I know just how to do it!

Natalie is Joannie's best friend from the old days. She was Joannie's maid of honor. Back then she was just Natalie Birch. But now she's a lawyer -- married to a lawyer... yet it's still Natalie Birch... but Esquire.

She and her husband Steve are both partners at Crompton & Fitch. And although the girls are still "officially" best friends, since we don't live in each other's pockets, our families have grown apart. We see each other at weddings and funerals, but we haven't seen each other purposefully for 10 or so years.

I prepared an official looking 10 x 13 envelope addressed to Stephen Frampton, Esq. (Natalie's husband) at his business address. Then I put about a hundred sheets of blank paper with the photo of his cheating wife on the top.

I sealed the package because I wanted to give the impression that it is full of photos and corroborating evidence that I could deliver to Stephen at my whim. I would keep one of the photos uncovered in my hand. I had one shot at getting what I needed from Natalie.

I made sure I was still in the bathroom when Joannie came to check on me Monday morning. I told her I was calling in sick. She said, "I hope you feel better. I wish there was something I could do for you! I love you."

I wanted to say, "Damn you to hell Joan!" Instead I said, "Goodbye Joan"... except with a gravity that I hoped she felt through the door. She did feel it -- and it did worry her. But rather than insist that a sick man -- who probably did not want to explain himself, explain himself -- she trotted down the stairs and went to work.

I'm glad I ate my Wheaties this morning because I had a lot to do. But if I flip Natalie, I'll have an awful lot to do in the next few days.

I waited in the Law office's parking lot until Natalie drove in. I wanted to get her after she got in but before she got into her day -- and I timed it perfectly. She saw me the same time the office secretary did, and I said, "Can I grab one minute before you get going?" She said, "Sure. Come right in."

I'm glad she didn't go for the hug. Instead, she got behind her desk and sat in her power chair. But when I closed the door, the power in the room shifted to me. So I helped myself to one of the client seats, and without speaking I slid the photo over to her.

She looked confused at first... like she was trying to understand what the image was. But then I got my confirmation. Her face contorted with fear and worry. Then her body started heaving and weeping... and she ran into the bathroom. (She's probably glad I closed her office door when I came in.)

It seemed like she was there forever, but it was only about five minutes... and she looked horrible when she emerged.

It's obvious that she had been crying... and even though I was justifiably pissed off at her, I hope she doesn't have anyone else scheduled until her face gets back to square one.

She picked up the phone and said, "Hold all my calls. No one -- not even Steven -- disturbs me until further notice." I heard, "Yes, Mrs. Birch"... and she hung up.

Natalie said, "On some level, I've been waiting for this conversation for twenty years. It's just that I thought I'd be having it with Steven, not you -- and frankly, I don't know where to begin. So, why don't you begin it for me... I mean... what do you want from me, Bill? Is this blackmail?"

"Yes and no," I said. "It depends on how you look at it. My guess is that you haven't confessed this to your soulmate." (I was sort of proud of myself for choosing the term "soulmate" on the fly.)

"No... I haven't. I've always wanted to, but... well... here we are."

I had placed the thick packet on the desk so she could see it, and I tapped the address label as I spoke.

"As you can see, this is addressed to Steve. The top page is the photo you are holding in your hands. What you have to understand is that the last thing I want to do is give Steve this package. But before we discuss what it will cost you for Steve not to receive this packet, we need a few ground rules for this conversation."

"I'm listening." she said.

"First, I need a guarantee that our discussions in this room are not being recorded."

"Certainly. I only do that with permission, anyway" she said.

"Second, my intention is to depose you. I have certain facts at my disposal that I need verified. If I see that you are lying or holding back from telling the complete truth about you and Joannie, I will hand carry this packet to Steve and our business will be concluded. If, however, I feel you are telling the truth, you will have completed your end of this deal... and I will never speak of this to Steve."

Natalie said, "I'm not happy about doing this to Joannie, but I agree to those terms."

"Now, I realize that as a lawyer, you are an officer of the court... and you are obliged to report misdeeds that come to your attention."

"That's correct."

"So I'm going to speak in hypotheticals... and if these cross the line, please tell me immediately and I will stop."

"Okay."

"Let's say there is a guy who suspects his wife is cheating, and he is also a middle manager at a large communications company. A person in that position has access to a lot of private information.

Now, we all know that it is illegal for him to use it for personal purposes, but he is looking for the actual truth, not the truth that has to be proven in court. Are we good? Can I proceed like this?"

"Yes. We are okay."

"This man would have access to every piece of cell phone data since the cell system was deployed. He could generate reports that tell where people have been, and he could compare that to where they said they have been."

"Oh..." she kind of trailed off... knowing that her cell phone betrayed her.

"He could also sift that data to see what phones used certain of the same towers at the same time his wife's did... and went separate ways afterward. That manager would have the names and addresses of all people involved -- even before he gave it over to a private investigator."

"But remember," said Natalie, "any fruit of that illegal information would not hold up in court."

"I get that. But these huge firms know that too. They know how to use the information invisibly, and create a case legally. In this hypothetical case, the investigator got his hands on automobile GPS records, tolls, hotel billing records, public media photos -- and even videos of the lovers from hotels and private individuals."

She started to tear up... probably reviewing her naïveté and rehearsing her public shame.

"But don't worry. This hypothetical person is not interested in going to court, and he is not interested in going to the cheater's husband. He is interested in establishing the facts of the case... all the facts of the case. Once he is sure he has all of them, then he will uphold his end of the agreement."

I continued, "Before I make my pitch, though, you need to understand that Joannie and I are finished. It doesn't matter what you do. I already have enough evidence to throw her out. So there is nothing or no one for you to "save."

Instead, what you are playing for is me hiding the evidence from Steve -- forever... which I am prepared to do. After this is over, I never want to speak to you again... so it won't be that hard.

"Okay. So you've heard my hypotheticals. Are you going to cooperate?... or am I going to make my hypotheticals Steve's new reality?"

"No! I'll cooperate! Just don't tell Steve. What do you need from me?"

"A simple statement of the facts is all I need for now. I will depose you later, and I will need all the related photos, emails, text messages, etc. between you and Joannie and you and the guys."

"I didn't keep any of that stuff. Considering what I did, that would be crazy!"

I shook my head, grabbed Steve's packet and headed for the door.

"Stop. Where are you going?"

"To give this to Steve."

"Why?"

"I told you. No lying! There is no way a lawyer does not have a packet for mutually assured destruction. If you think I am that stupid, you can duke it out with Steve."

"Okay. Hold on. Hold on. I have a USB in a safety deposit box that has all that stuff. I can get it for you tomorrow."

"Okay. I will depose you tomorrow instead, so schedule a few hours. What I need for today is a mere statement of the facts. This includes the names of the men, the nature of the relationships, the approximate beginning and end date... in the estimate of the frequency of meetings. We will get a lot more detail in the deposition, but I need this statement today -- and your future depends on your next few sentences."

"Shit. This is hard to say. Joannie and I met Fred and Jake at a bar on June 17, 1994. It started with flirting. Joannie paired off with Fred and I paired off with Jake. We got it in our heads that we deserved something on the side... and the relationship turned sexual very quickly.

We continued to meet approximately monthly for the better part of four years. We ended it in September 1998. It just petered out. It got to be more trouble than it was worth... and when I say it all out loud, I really suck!"

"Thank you for your candor. I'll meet you at the bank tomorrow."

Now that I was sure that Joannie had cheated on me, I had to leave my house today. So, I hired two cleaning ladies and their 14 year old son who was home from school to help me move my stuff and clean.

I removed every picture of me from the house and replaced it with a neutral blank sheet. But the picture in our bedroom, the portrait of me and Joannie, I replaced with the picture of her and Fred O'Neil, and Natalie and Jake Burns, enjoying New Year's Eve in New York.

In addition to carrying bags out to the rental truck, I had the ladies clean every room after I moved my stuff out. I also had them make our bed to hotel specifications -- nice and tight with extra pillows. Once that was done, I put the New Year's Eve photo face down on the bed.

Then I placed a small porcelain bowl on my bedside table. It contained two items: my wedding ring and my lawyer's business card with a note stapled to it that said, "My new contact number."

These ladies were kickass workers. They were done in four hours. Since furniture had been moved and some items packed away, it looked a little like the house had been robbed. But it hadn't been this clean and orderly in years... so it also looked surreal.

I had also installed a few cameras so I could watch Joannie as she entered the house. My plan was to have my car in the garage, but me with my laptop around the side of the house watching the live feed.

She'd think I was home and would probably go downstairs first. My office wasn't empty empty... but my desk, chair, files and electronic items were gone.

Joannie came home clueless that her life had changed forever (... although it actually changed the day she decided to cheat. She simply fooled herself into thinking it was the same old life.)

She came into the house calling my name, and when she received no answer, she went down stairs to my office.

"Bill. We've been robbed! Bill, where are you?"

She looked for me in the office bathroom, even though the door was open and the light was off.

The living room and den only had subtle changes because I didn't have a lot of personal gear in there. All I did was remove my photos and replace them with blank, tone appropriate paper. But the rooms were also cleaned to the nines, and all the pillows neatened and fluffed.

"Bill. What's going on? What's wrong with the house?"

She went up stairs. That's when she started to notice that the photos were different. She passed a lot of them on the stairs and in the hall. I was careful to match the tone of the photos with the replacement papers, so nothing really screamed at her. She was just confused.

But when she got to the bed -- that carefully made hotel bed (very much like the one she cheated with Fred on New Year's Day 1998) and picked up the photo -- like Natalie, it took a minute. When she realized what it was, she said, "No! Bill! That was twenty years ago! You can't leave me!"... and she passed out on the floor.

I called the kids and warned them that their mother would be calling them... and that I'd be "going dark" for a few days. I also told them that I was leaving her... and would be filing for a divorce ASAP.

I told them that their mother had an affair... but that those weren't my details to tell. The girls argued quickly for reconciliation, but my son understood that no such thing would be possible.

Joan wanted to buy my half of the house. But I had a talk with her dad (who would be picking up the maintenance load in my absence) and he convinced her to sell it and buy a small condo. She lobbied the kids to try and convince me not to divorce her... and I did them the courtesy of not filing immediately.

Instead, I waited sixty days and had her served while she was eating dinner with her folks at a local restaurant. I had a friend record this event secretly, and I texted a copy to Natalie. She received it but did not respond.

The kids understand that I have no interest in seeing their mother again. Nevertheless, I let them tell me about what she's up to in the normal course of conversations. She's had dinner with a guy at work a few times... but they say she seems depressed... and is going through the motions of life rather than living it.

I, however, have really leaned into this new life. First, I cancelled my old mobile service and got a brand new number. I also bought a new condo -- the zero-maintenance type that comes with a cleaning service.

I've also been seeing a divorcee named Glenda. We both understand how much work a committed relationship takes. So, even though we dig each other, we're not making permanent plans... but we are making some plans.

"Glenda."

"Yes?"

"What are you doing on New Year's Eve?"