His feminist mother had imbedded so deep in Ed the belief that women were to be respected that he couldn't shake it. “Respecting women builds character,” she told him.

All through school, the deities that were his female peers stunted his sexual and social development with no effort. He couldn't look them in the eye; he was not worthy.

Any woman that he dated sought him out and later dumped him when the time was right. Even his wife, Katie, had plucked him from a table in a bar where he sat with his friends. That night was a favorite of Ed's, and he replayed it in his memory often.

He and three guys he worked with hit a small bar near the office after work a couple Fridays a month. Ed no longer remembers who else was in the group that night, but he knows for sure that Scott Welsley was one of them.

“Her ass was so fine and so fuckin' tight. Mmm…” Scott threw back his beer for emphasis. “My dick just tore that shit up; you know what I'm saying?”

Grunts and groans of approval circulated the table. Being a man, Ed had to tolerate this kind of talk. He'd smile and nod, but never added a grunt to the conversation. To him, people like Scott Welsley may as well be shitting in a graveyard.

Beer bottles clanked and grunts and laughter intensified as every inch of the woman's body was described. “Titties so firm you could bounce a quarter off ‘em. Her nipples popped right up and I barely even touched her. She was dying for it, I'm telling you—just aching.”

Ed sipped his beer, smiling on cue and wondering why he just didn't go home this evening.

“Where'd you meet this chick again?” someone asked.

“She's that one new bitch in accounting,” Scott said. “She's the one always wearing shit with her tits hanging right out for you. She's wilder than her mini-skirts would have you think. And don't even get me started on those fucking legs.”

That's when a tap on his shoulder distracted Ed. He looked up and saw the most beautiful set of eyes he'd ever look into. His glance diverted quickly, but then she spoke. “Would you like to dance?”

“Really?” Ed said.

She took a half step back.

“I mean,” Ed stammered, “Me?”

Her lips, painted by one of the Renaissance masters Ed would argue, curled and glistened into a smile. “Yes, you.”

“If he don't want to, baby, I sure will,” Scott said. Katie didn't even look his way, so Scott invented the nickname “Coldy” for her and called her that behind her back forever.

The only two on the floor, Ed and Katie had their first dance to the pulse of the jukebox that until that moment had just been noise for Scott to brag over. Katie left the bar after a couple songs, but Ed had her business card tucked into his shirt pocket and a sample of her lipstick on his cheek. “Call me,” she told him.

He nodded.

Scott caught up with him a couple days later at the water cooler. He had his shoes well shined and a dress shirt starched to the point of cardboard. “You know,” he said to Ed, “I have a sense for these kinds of things. And that one chick, Coldy, you met at the bar the other night.”

“Yeah?” Ed said. He glanced to the left and right both for a way out and to make sure no one was listening.

“You could totally nail that chick if you play your cards right.”

“Ya think?” Ed said.

“Oh yeah, she looks prime for…” Scott looked around this time. Being in the office, he held back a little, trading the words for a pumping motion with his hips. “You know what I'm saying?”

“I just hope she likes me. I just hope she's nice.”

“Yeah,” Scott said, “Yeah, that's good too.”

Eight good years of marriage and two kids later, Katie and Ed often laughed about Scott's feeling that he could probably “nail” her. Katie and Ed often laughed about a lot of things. But year nine did weird things to them.

“Daddy…Daddy…” The call came from upstairs while Ed moved the wet clothes from the washer to the dryer. It sounded like Catherine, the older of the two. Turning his head away from the laundry, he could see that Missy was on the couch, mesmerized with Dora the Explorer, so the yell was Catherine for sure.

“Jesus Christ,” Ed muttered, adding a Bounce sheet to the load in the dryer and starting it up. “I'm in the laundry room,” he said.

“C'mere Daddy.”

“I'll be right there.”

Halfway up the stairs, his mother's voice called to him from the past. “You need to respect women, Eddie. You need to go the extra mile for the women in your life. That's how you build character.”

With three women in the house, Ed built character every few minutes, and most of the character building was accomplished running up and down the stairs.

“Daddy. Come here!”

“On my way, baby.” He rounded the banister at the top of the stairs and bolted for Catherine's room. “What is it, sweetie?”

“I can't find my other slipper.” She pointed to her feet where one fuzzy slipper covered one foot and the other foot sat white against the fuchsia carpet.

“Did you look under the bed?”

Catherine shook her head no.

Ed waited for her to get on her knees and look under the bed, but he knew that the world's time clock would expire before Catherine would do that, so he did it himself. The slipper was right there. “Here you go, honey.”

“Thanks.” She slid it on her foot and left her father standing in her room with his character building.

Around 10:30, Katie woke up and called for Ed. The clothes in the laundry basket could wait, and he took the stairs two at a time at the sound of his wife's voice. “Morning, honey.”

“Babe, can you make me some coffee?”

“No problem.” Back down the stairs he went to grind the beans. He returned to the laundry until he heard the loud grumbling from the coffee maker that indicated the pot was ready. Dropping the pair of socks he was rolling together, he grabbed a cup from the cabinet, filled it ¼ with cream, filled the rest with coffee, and carried it up the stairs. “Here you go, my love.”

“Thanks babe. Can you just put it on my night stand?” Katie propped herself up a little on the pillow. “Can you find me the remote?”

“I'm not sure where it is, babe.”

Katie sighed and lay her head back on the pillow.

Ed knew that the clothes waiting to be folded downstairs would be wrinkled by the time he got to them. Katie hated wrinkled clothes. He hoped that Missy didn't get to the clothes before he did. “I'm sure that remote must be around here somewhere.”

Later, when the remote had been found, and the laundry had been folded, and the downstairs had been dusted and vacuumed, and Missy had had her lunch, and the tub had been rinsed for Katie's bath, and the bath had been drawn, and the candles around the tub had been lit, burned a while, and blown out, Katie called Ed to the room again.

“I've been thinking.”

Ed listened, knowing that those are the most expensive words that his wife ever used. He sat on the bed by her.

“You have to hear me out before you say anything, okay?”

Ed shrugged and nodded.

“Okay. I want you to know first of all, that I've been thinking about this for a long time, and I know this is what I need to do.”

Ed turned to Katie, who met his eyes for a second and then looked away. “What is it, babe?”

“I don't want you to be closed to this until you really think about it because this is what I really want.” Katie sat with her legs under the sheets and her knees under her chin.

Was she leaving him? Ed couldn't imagine. What would he do? How could he go on without her and the girls? “Okay,” Ed said.

Katie looked to the ceiling and exhaled long and hard. “I want breast augmentation.”

“A boob job?”

“Don't make it sound so trashy.”

Ed took the sting of her words, and she let him.

“Why do you want to do that, honey? You know I think you're perfect just how you are.”

“This is something I want for me,” she said, “Not for you. For me. I look in the mirror and I feel like some things could be better. Why shouldn't I be allowed to be happy with me?”

“Why shouldn't you just be happy with you?”

“I knew you wouldn't get this. I don't know why I tell you anything. You never support me in the things that I want, and I always have to support you in every little thing or you fall apart.”

Ed didn't know what she was talking about, but with the tone she took, he knew not to argue. “You know how I feel about surgery, honey. What if...” Ed swallowed, “What if something happens?”

“If it's my time to go, then I'm gonna go. Surgery has nothing to do with it.”

He had one card left, so he played it. “What about money?”

“I have a consultation in a couple days. I'll have a better idea then how much it's going to cost. We can get a loan to pay for this.”

Ed swallowed it all. He nodded and said, “Okay.”

Six months later, Katie had the surgery, recovered, and shopped for all new clothes to package wrap her new double D's. Credit card bills soared. Katie spent lots of time in front of the mirror, and to Ed, things felt good at last. He loved how happy she was with her new look. The whole thing was a good idea, it turned out, in retrospect.

“Don't you love them?” Katie asked him, standing naked in front of the shower. “Aren't they the best?”

“You look really great, babe.” But she always had.

Scott Welsley caught up with Ed for a lunch. He came to pick up Ed in his new Mercedes, and they headed out to Arby's for a sandwich. “So what's been goin' on my man?”

“Nothing much. The wife and kids are all good. Catherine's having some trouble in math, but I don't think it's anything to worry about too much. Probably fix itself.” Ed said, scraping a few fries through his ketchup and popping them into his mouth. “What about you?”

“Same old shit, man, mostly. I can't complain. How did you like the car?”

“It's great, man. Good for you.”

“Thanks.” Scott looked around as if checking the tables to see if anyone was close enough to hear them.

“So…Fuck, man I don't even know how to tell you this, and I'm thinking the best way would be to just out and tell you, but there's no good way.”

“What are you talking about?” Ed's soda became too thick to swallow.

“I was at a club the other night. Palladium. You know the one?”

“That's the place Katie and her friends go dancing.”

Scott twisted his tongue and trapped it between his teeth. “Yeah. That's the one. Any reason you don't go with her, by the way?”

“I just stay home with the kids. Dancing isn't really my thing.”

“Yeah. Well you know, the place is kind of a meat market.”

“Huh?”

“You know…People go there mainly to hook up.”

“Oh.” Ed sipped his Coke and wondered what any of this had to do with him.

“So yeah…So I saw Coldy there. And she…She wasn't acting too…” Scott twisted his mouth around and looked everywhere but at Ed. “…Too married.”

“Not acting too married how?”

“She was throwing herself all over this guy. Freaking on him. Holding his hand. Grabbing him while they danced and sitting on his lap at the table she had with her friends.” Scott combed his fingers through his hair and glanced at Ed, hoping Ed wasn't the kill-the-messenger type.

“You must be mistaken. That's not how Katie is.”

“She got new boobs, right?”

Ed nodded.

“That's her, man. I'm sorry. I feel like I gotta tell you as friends and as a man.”

“Okay. Well…Thanks for letting me know, I guess.”

Ed didn't talk much on the drive back to work. Scott, he figured, couldn't wait to get together with him to tell him this—to rub it in his face. That's the kind of guy Scott was. He couldn't stand for anyone to have a good marriage because he couldn't hold on to a girlfriend for more than a few weeks. Ed stewed in the passenger seat until it was finally time to get out.

Work and friendly chatter from the people in nearby cubicles kept his mind off Scott for the rest of the day. By the time he was driving home, it was like lunch never happened. That night, Ed took control and showed who owned those double Ds. “For me, not for you,” he thought to himself in the afterglow's mild journey back to reality.

An e-mail arrived a few days later from Katie's friend, Rachel. Ed liked Rachel and her husband, and he saw that there were pictures, so he clicked on the message, and clicked on the link to the photosharing site that was there.

The Internet browser opened to a slideshow of pictures that Rachel took on various girls' nights at Palladium. Loving the chance to be a fly on the wall, and enjoying the pictures of his wife smiling with fun, Ed clicked through the virtual album. There she was on the dance floor before the new boobs. There she was posing with Rachel and holding a sunburst colored drink with a skinny straw. Another shot on the dance floor followed, this time in a different outfit with the new chest.

“I wish this was fun for me. It would be great to be able to do that with her,” Ed said to himself as the pictures faded into one another.

About picture number 70, things turned. Ed paused the automatic progression of the slide show. The room got hot, and a strange floating sensation replaced his awareness of his body. Ed leaned close to the screen.

The picture showed Katie wrapped in an embrace with a tight-muscled guy. They beamed for the camera like a couple. Clicking to the next picture was no better. She sprawled on his lap, one of his hands resting on $2,500 worth of boobs. “He could at least help out with the payments,” Ed said, pressing a tear from his eye. He had seen enough, but he kept clicking anyway.

A different night, a different outfit, and she draped herself on a different guy. Ed started remembering the different outfits leaving the house. The black top with the glittering pink butterflies left the night he and the kids played Candy Land and watched Monsters Inc. About the time he tucked the kids in and settled down to read, that top had been groped by various hands.

The slide show ended, and Ed stared at the computer monitor until the screen saver featuring pictures from his wedding day came on. He huffed and tightened his lips.

“Daddy!”

He shook his head and dabbed his eyes. “Yeah, baby?”

“Can I have a snack?”

“I'll be right there.”

She pinned her hair back to wash the makeup off her face. One of her older sheer nightgowns wrestled to contain her new assets. Ed lay on the bed across the master bedroom from her. When she turned the water off and reached for a towel, Ed said, “Why do you go to the club, honey?”

“You know why,” she said, “I go to dance.”

“So you just dance with all the girls and whatever?”

“There's a couple guys that go there that we know. But they all know Rachel and I are married. They more hang out for some of the other girls.”

“They're cool guys?”

“Yeah, I like them all right. I don't really know them all that well, like I said.”

Ed crossed his arms.

Katie smoothed moisturizer on her face.

“Can I come with you sometime, you think?”

“You'd hate it, honey. It's not your kind of music. It's not your kind of crowd. Dancing is my thing. It's what I do for me.”

They climbed into bed together and lay separate. Ed stared into the dark for a long time.

“I'm going out for a bit,” Ed said. It was Saturday morning, and the kids lounged in front of the TV with oversized bowls of Lucky Charms.

Katie lay in bed but rolled over at the sound of Ed's voice. “What?”

“I said I'm going out for just a little bit.”

“Where are the girls?”

“In front of the TV.”

“How long will you be gone?”

Ed shrugged.

“Did you tell me you had plans this morning?”

“No. I just remembered last night that I just need to take care of one little thing. It shouldn't take long.”

“All right. Can you bring the girls and me home some lunch?”

“Probably.”

Ed started up the car, backed out of the garage, and took a good hard look at his house. The blue and gray paint he spent the better part of a week applying last summer should still be good for 10 years or so.

He drove in no hurry. Daydreaming at red lights, it took a honk or two from the driver behind him to get him going again. He loved this town, and it was a beautiful day.

Rachel and Scott—he obsessed on both of them most of the night. Scott brought him the bad news first, and what was his motivation for that really? They weren't that good of friends. No…It felt more like Scott just wanted to lay a turd in the fountain that was Ed's life.

Another car honk at a green light, but this time Ed flipped off his rearview mirror.

Rachel was another story. She allowed Katie to do what she did. She claimed to be Ed's friend too, but stood by and not only didn't remind Katie of her marriage, but documented the whole damn thing on film. Then, she sent the pictures around to everyone she knew so that the world could see how much of a slut his wife was and how much of a naïve fool he was. Or was Rachel trying to tell him what he needed to know?

“Men have ulterior motives—they can't help it,” his mother used to say, “You won't be able to help it in yourself. Women are wired different. Men could learn a lot from women if they kept their thinking above the belt. Trust and honor women, Eddie. It builds character.”

He had to do something though, something for him. He turned down the radio as he pulled into Scott's driveway. Killing the engine, he sat in the car and stared at the walkway to Scott's door. Both hands gripped the steering wheel, and his heart raced. Ed sighed, shook his head, and stepped from the car.

It took so long for Scott to answer that Ed thought he wasn't home. When the door opened, Scott leaned shirtless in some blue sweats, looking like last night had been fun. “Hey, man,” he said, “What's goin' on?”

Ed crashed his fist into Scott's jaw and watched him hit the floor. He shook his hand from the sting of the contact and inspected his split knuckle.

“What the fuck?”

Scott started to stand. He wiped his finger on his lip and studied the red streak it left.

Ed entered the house and shut the door. The thick aroma of eggs, bacon, and butter filled the house. Scott lunged for him, but Ed dodged and pushed Scott's back as he flew past. Scott cracked his skull on the doorknob on his way down.

“Dude, have you lost your mind?” Scott held his palm against his forehead where blood leaked from between his fingers.

In the kitchen, Ed grabbed the frying pan from the stove. Smoke still rose from the burned grease of Scott's breakfast. Back in the entryway, Ed raised the pan above his head. Scott charged again, but with the timing of a pro ball player, Ed swung the pan around and connected with Scott's temple. Scott flopped to the ground and quivered.

Ed caught his breath and watched Scott for signs of consciousness, still gripping the handle of the pan. Returning to the kitchen, he placed the pan in the sink and found the phone.

“911 what is your emergency?” The dispatcher asked.

“I beat a friend of mine up pretty bad,” Ed said, sampling the uneaten eggs that Scott left on the counter.

“How bad sir?”

“Bad. He needs an ambulance, and you may as well send the police too.”

“Is he breathing sir?”

“I don't know.”

“Can you check?”

“No. This is something I did for me.” Ed took a bite of the bacon Scott would have had with his eggs. It was crispier than he liked, but it would do.

“Pardon me, sir?”

“Just send help.” Ed hung up.

Ed sat and finished Scott's breakfast and waited for the sound of the sirens. He remembered that Katie asked him to bring home lunch, so he picked up the phone again, dialed Mountain Mike's Pizza, and had two large pepperonis sent to his house. He swelled with pride that he remembered to be good to his woman. Ed finally had built enough character to where he himself had become a work of fiction.