PRELUDE TO THE AFFAIR

OR A.K.A…

"How A Peacoat Was Exchanged For A Pair Of Cowboy Boots"…

Disclaimer time: Okay folks this isn't a "FRINGE" story but I had to use my imagination to put this in the relevant section since an "AFFAIR" one doesn't exist. A bit like a re-written timeline….oops…wrong genre there!. Anyway Sarah Treem and the rest of the people currently working on filming this series…I'm no steppin' on anyone's toes by writin' this and I don't wanna steal your ideas but you really do need to contemplate a wee bit of shirtless fencing here and there!…This one's for the avidly waiting "Cole" fans and for Mr Jackson…hope you enjoy it..

Peter Bishop lay dreaming one night…somewhere in another universe, another life and another existence, there was troubling lying in store…life was about to get very complicated indeed..

"I am just a simple man

Working on the land,

Oh, it ain't easy…

I am just a simple man,

Working with my hands..

Oh believe me..

Freedom is the only thing, that means a damn to me..

Oh you can't fake it.."

Bad Company: "Simple Man".

The words came back to him in a flood which he couldn't hold back. It was his father's favourite song and one considering that his father had been a rancher and before that his grandfather had been one too, it seemed that this song could've been written for any one of his family.

Both his father and grandfather were tough men, it seemed that was the way that things were, men were tough and had to be considering the nature of ranching. There were long hours to work and a multitude of tasks to be completed from the first light to the inevitable sunset by the day's end and even then the next day would throw up a multitude of problems left over from the day before that needed to be dealt with.

Being able to share some of those worries was a good thing and sure he thought he was doing fine but this was where things were going wrong in his life and there was nagging doubts in the back of his mind regarding his domestic situation.

Maybe it was the past, maybe he hadn't talked or opened up to his wife Allison enough and had just kept his emotions bottled up and now it was coming back armed to the teeth and shouting "Payback Time!", like a deranged Jack Nicholson in the "Shining" waving his axe and threatening, no demanding that all hell on earth be let loose.

"Okay," he admitted to himself, "If you suspect that your nearest and dearest are playing "away from home" to coin a phrase, that's the first reaction that an aggrieved partner feels and rightly so..", however, at least he had a good way to get rid of his feelings and privately he thanked whatever god was around that today was a great day to take out his frustration on this line of fencing which was in badly need of repair.

Fencing in fact was one of his favourite past times and was a great way to get rid of seething and festering frustrations that bothered him. There was nothing like taking a mell in hand and driving in stobs into the earth and letting the more "primitive" emotions take over, ones which were never aired but always lingering in the background…whispering from time to time in your ear, begging to be recognised and acted upon…forbidden voices….dark and dangerous..

These were more "reasoned" times though and whereas in perhaps his grandfather's day or further back even, the urge to take up arms and prove that justice was seen to be done regardless of whether a man worked for or against the law was now largely consigned to a bygone era. Still, there was something to be said for that "quick" solution but nowadays there was the more "therapeutic" way to discuss your emotions and that was something that made him feel uncomfortable, emasculation by a therapist's couch was not his style. Maybe for some men it was, but he came from a long line of men for whom that was just not seen to be the done thing.

His father and grandfather before him were men who just gritted their teeth and got on with things and he had learned to do the same. Hide it away and just smile, don't let them see how affected by it you really are…"Plan and live to fight another day" was his motto and instead of letting his temper run riot like he should, he went off to do some fencing instead.

Walking up and down the fence line, he could see that some posts had rotted away, some had fallen due to the passage of time and a couple looked as if they had been knocked loose, probably by some stray cattle no doubt. Whatever the reason, it was time to get this stretch of fence back up to standard as the longer it got left the more damage it would incur for the future. He didn't need to go back home until the sun went down, besides, Allison would probably be working the late shift in the diner anyway…

He hadn't told her where he was going as he was away by dawn, the day before he'd brought up all the posts he needed to start this job and had this all planned out.

"Funny how we're trying to act normal after everything that's happened in the past, and the last thing we are is "NORMAL!". There's nothing "normal" about this situation at all!. Your wife is under suspicion of having an affair and all you can do is just slink out of the house and pretend you can continue to ignore the facts that are staring you in the face!", it seemed one of his "unacknowledged voices" was trying to provoke him further.

"Love is based on illusion and love needs illusion to thrive and prosper. How blind can one man possibly be?!. You can't pretend it's okay!", the voice nagged at him, "Sooner or later the truth has to come out!".

Taking up a new post in one hand and a mell in the other, he decided that the sooner he started the better…alcohol couldn't drown this particular voice out even if he drank himself into utter oblivion, no, this voice had to be deafened into submission with a loud crack of wood being driven into the ground. A few taps and it was sticking up unaided into the ground and ready to be driven in.

"It's the fact you can't face…the fact that you're losing your identity, not just as a husband but as a man!", the voice taunted him, "After all don't they say that our identity is shaped by those around us and those we love?. The most important thing a family reinforces is the positive illusions about one another. Take that away and what are you really?!. You're surplus to requirement buddy…get used to it!"…

WHACK!. The mell hit the fence post squarely on top and was driven steadily into the earth, the sound drowning out the voice that continued to taunt him. Now it was a case of getting "into the zone" and finding that rhythm and getting this job done. Rolling up the sleeves on his blue checked shirt, it was time to get serious about the job at hand.

"Why don't you just ask her?. I mean you can't keep trying to deny what's in front of you. Ever heard of the term "wilful blindness"?. HEY!. Go and look that one up…YOU happen to be it's poster boy!", another barrage of insults came into his head as he continued to hit the first post into place and he could feel the sweat starting to form on his brow.

The first post went in with a minimum of effort, after all, his body was used to hard work and working a ranch over the years had toned his body and had given him quite a strong, physical presence, one which of course hadn't gone unnoticed by the ladies in the nearby town. As well as this there was also the fact that he indulged in surfing which had contributed to his growing physical stature and had taught him the art of balance. Still the ever appreciative looks were thrown his way but he chose only to have eyes on the one woman that he cared about and that was the woman who was his wife.

He stopped to catch his breath for a minute and wipe his brow. The sun was strong in the sky and there was a cooling light breeze that he welcomed and he could detect a salty tang in the air. A breeze that came all the way from the ocean. Quickly he cast off his shirt which was getting in the way of his swing as the cool air circulated around his skin, cooling it down and a trickle of sweat rolled down the curve of his spine as he swung the mell once more.

WHACK!. Post after post went in as he had finally found his rhythm and had silenced that gnawing voice that reared its head every so often to taunt him mercilessly as he made his way down the fence line, replacing new posts and tossing aside the old posts.

Dust and earth were thrown up by the effort of his work and coated his shirtless physique along with trickles of sweat that ran down both his back and chest and the occasional tuft of grass caught in his thick, curled hair. Questions arose in the back of his mind that he could no longer ignore.

"WHY?!", this voice was his own as he struggled to keep his anger from boiling over as he kept hitting post after post in without a break. Why had she done this to him?. Was it the old male insecurity that scared him the most, the one which stemmed from a deep sense of male competition that was inbred culturally?. The one that said that you can't keep a woman happy as she's always on the lookout for someone richer, better looking or physically more well-endowed?. Which one was it?!. What did he lack that she had to go off and find in another man?!.

THAT was the one that hurt the most as the mell hit the squared head of the most a little too forcefully and cracked the post all the way from top to bottom, ruining it and destroying that careful rhythm that he had been slowly and patiently working to.

A curse fell from his lips as he threw the mell carelessly to one side and forcefully tore the ruined wooden post from the embrace of mother earth. Small specks off treated pine wood nestled in his beard, chest hair and another curse fell from his lips as wooden splinters stuck into his bare skin which he pinched out and threw away.

Reaching for another post he placed it just outside of the indent of where the ruined one had been and began the process once more.

He recalled reading an article from somewhere that according to some psychologist, women had sex for at least 237 different reasons. Was that why they were so complicated and never easy to understand?. Typically enough the research hadn't included why MEN had their reasons for wanting sex but it was probably for the same reasons as women if it came down to the wire.

Boredom, experimentation, to get back at someone, boost their confidence…it made for some interesting discussions of conversations down at the local bar for sure.

The age old question of "What women really want" was always being discussed in sometimes not oh so glorious terms of endearment and admittedly he had joined in with his friends with such so called "banter".

"Guilty as charged!", a wry smile came to his lips as he lifted the mell once more and continued to hit in fence posts and take his frustration out on something, blow by blow.

Partners were often described as some form of trophy or prize to be won in some gaudy contest of sexual prowess and winning a chosen partner was not just a way to show off but to proclaim and bask in everlasting glory…"LOOK AT ME…I MADE IT HAPPEN..HERE I AM!", the social climber reaching the peak of his or her so called "Everest" or "K2". Was that or any of the reasons he recalled why his wife was choosing this path of destruction for them both?. Was it revenge or boredom that was driving her into the arms of another man?.

Hell of a way down though, that's if you even dared to look!. The climb to get there was one thing, the effort of reaching that hallowed pinnacle…and then what?!. After you make it to the top, where else is there to go?!.

That's where he was right here and now, staring all the way down from the top of that peak and looking at an uncertain future

"Son," he heard the words of his father come back to haunt him as he drew air in and out of his lungs, "You gotta a hell of a lot to learn about women…"

Cole picked up the mell and let it rest on his broad muscled shoulders. The phone calls which mysteriously and abruptly ended whenever he came into the room. The expression on his wife's face when she said she was working a late shift…

Maybe it was time to lay his cards on the table and find out exactly what was going on, after all he was his father's son and his father wouldn't have stood for this happening to him.

Turning his head to the direction of the house, he made up his mind to end this uncertainty and find out what exactly was going on here and if his suspicions were correct.

If his wife was having an affair then first and foremost he had to have confirmation and then secondly evidence.

Whoever this guy was that she was seeing, it was time to get to the heart of the matter and expose it for what it was.

Determination etched his features as he gripped the handle of the mell and raised it, focussing his emotions into one powerful swing, the fence post vibrated with the shock and was driven into the ground with one powerful smack as the metal head made contact with the top.

Cole smiled broadly.

There were plans to be made.

This one came to me when I was washing my hair and refused to go away!. Yes, that's my secret to writing folks…HAIR WASHING…strange as it seems I get all manner of ideas when engaged in that activity and this one had to get written.

Hope you enjoyed it and I had to get this one written down as I read up on what "The Affair" was to be about and thought that even though it's currently filming and there's no "meat to the script bones" as such that we know about, I had an idea of where it should go.

Before I go any further, I have to admit that the fencing idea came from my old days working on teams for the "Scottish Wildlife Trust" and it happened to be one of my favourite activities and before a debate springs up…yes WOMEN can build and construct fences from scratch and it's not just a male preserve ( all of my father's side bar him were all farmers or Scottish version being Crofters and fencing is a part of working the land.) We women might take a wee bit longer to do things "our way" but it gets done at the end of the day and no-one has the right to look at us weirdly or gives us that "Blurred lines" crap or laugh at the idea of women working in forestry or conservation believe me, I've had my share of it.

Anyone that does, just mind that I have my "Chainsaw" ticket and I know how to use one…although I do prefer a bow-saw for taking trees down but that's another matter entirely and one I would've used in the narrative bar all the "P.P.E" involved!. (That's personal protective equipment folks and we can't get too technical here!).

The song by "Bad Company" is a good wee tune and also ran through my head whilst putting this together, check it out.

All the psychological stats and facts and figures are taken from two inspirational books by Margaret Heffernan namely "Wilful Blindness" and "A Bigger Prize". Please take the time to look at these books as they are amazingly presented and well written.

Right, I'd better get back to the "Fringeverse" now and "Sea Of Fringe: Farrago's Legacy" if you haven't been reading my other stories then you're welcome to have a gander. They're a million miles away from this one…

Any comments or reviews are welcome on any of my ramblings…CHEERS…