A Boilerplate Rendering Ch. 03

She continued. "Do you know what's funny? It just...ended. As simple as that. I looked over at him, and it was all gone. I felt nothing, I wanted nothing. I just wanted him to have never been there at all. He saw me watching him, mistook my expression for affection, and tried to hold my hand. The touch of it..." she rubbed her hands together, "...made me sick. Physically ill. HE made me physically sick. I made me sick." Another bitter laugh. "He...didn't take it very well, when I told him." She rolled up her sleeve to reveal a fading bruise that wrapped all the way around her upper arm. "Somehow, I don't expect you to be surprised. Somehow, I can't understand why I am. I threw my whole life away for a man who felt absolutely no shame in physically hurting me.

"Hell, maybe you saw those things in him all along. Maybe that's why you pushed me to continue." She studied my face, but I offered nothing. "Anyway," she sighed, rolling the sleeve back down, "that's the kind of idiot that I've been. That's the kind of idiot I AM. So it's time to find out what kind of idiot you are. Are you the kind that gives up on the only thing he has left to fight for, because the fight just got a little harder? Or are you the kind of idiot who stays at the table, even after his last bluff has been called?" She swallowed hard, a single tear sliding down her cheek. "I have to be honest with you, John: I'm really hoping that you'll turn out to be the kind of idiot who stays. I just wish that I'd..." she shook her head again, a small sob escaping, and stood up. "I'll leave you alone for a while. I...I am sorry for what I've done. More sorry than I could ever say."

But she stopped in the threshold, gathered herself together, and turned long enough to say, "And you really do need to eat more, John. For your own sake. You're skin and bone."

I looked away, and she left.

For a long time after I just sat there, the shadows slowly crawling across the room, not knowing what to think or what to do.

Sometime past midnight, I stood up and rubbed my eyes.

"I'm not hungry," I said to no one in particular.

-

November passed like an illness. It lingered too long, distorting the passage of time, and when it left us we were more exhausted and weaker than we'd ever been before.

Karen was home all the time, now. She still claimed the affair was over. I might have hoped that it wasn't, except that I was so busy praying that it was.

She was attentive and concerned, but also distant. I could see that there was a lot going on internally, and very little of it was being shared with the rest of us. She struck me as looking like a widow, or a person just now coming to terms with how little they like themselves. Either way, she was quiet. We both still managed to put on the show when the girls were around, but there wasn't much else to do.

December wasn't any better, and soon even I was hoping she'd come out of it. I don't know why, exactly, except that I worried it might start to impact the girls.

As it was, it wasn't until the week before Christmas that she asked me to stay up late and talk to her, a hint of anxiety in her eyes. And she must have shared, because I felt it creep into mine, as well.

We sat down at the kitchen table, a glass of wine in front of each of us, and she took a long time frowning down at her glass before she looked up at me and said, "I don't know what to do, and I need your help."

"With what?"

"With us. With you. With me most of all, I suppose." She started to pick up her wine glass, but her hands were shaking and she set it back down. "I just...I keep trying to think of a way that I can help you heal, or undo some of the damage that I've done, and I can't find a thing. I know...I know that I've ruined everything, and I know that you owe me nothing for that. All I'm asking for is a chance to atone, somehow. To perhaps make whatever happens next a little bit easier for all of us."

"I don't understand what you're asking me," I admitted slowly.

"Yes you do," she insisted. "And I know you do. Just give me some understanding of where we are, John. Give me some understanding of WHO we are. You don't have to do any more, or make any promises...but just give me that little bit. Please."

It's not so little as you think, dear. In fact, you're stepping into a very dark place.

I leaned back, and poured the entire glass of wine down my throat. "You're not going to like it," I warned her quietly.

"I didn't ask you to make me like it."

Clever retort. Okay. Who am I to fight you on this?

I studied her for a moment, measured the resolve in her eyes. Let's see how long it lasts.

"You're nothing to me," I admitted flatly. "That's what you are. Nothing at all."

The resolve remained. "Explain."

"What needs explaining?" I held out my hands. "I don't even know who this person sitting across from me is, to be honest. She's a foreigner, an unfamiliar. Oh, I guess she has my wife's name, or the name that she used to go by. But if I can say anything for certain, it's that you are not her.

"My wife had just a hint of weight around her middle, and she was comfortable with that. You don't have it. You aren't her. My wife had long beautiful hair that reached down past her shoulders, and framed her smile in a way that she knew I adored, and that was special to me. You don't have that. You aren't her. My wife drove a van, you have an SUV. My wife put her family first, you put yourself before all else. And I'll apologize for knowing this much about your personal life, but I've seen very clear evidence that you enjoy doing things in bed...or elsewhere...that my wife had never even tried, and was certainly unwilling to consider attempting. So you. Are. Not. Her." I leaned forward. "Do you understand what I'm saying? You are not my wife. You're not her! You ARE! NOT! MY! WIFE!!"

I took a deep breath, calming myself down. "My wife was a wonderful person. I can't even begin to describe her in words that you'll understand. In a world full of women, she was THE woman. In a lifetime of questions, she was the answer. And I don't know if you will ever be capable of understanding just how much I miss her." My voice cracked at the end of that, and I looked away.

She seemed to have shrunk a little bit in her chair, but the determination was still there on her face. I suppose she prepared herself for this to be a hard conversation.

"I understand what you're saying, John. Or..." she looked away from my warning look, "...I understand what it means. But honestly, hair and fitness are just appearance. A car is a car. They're just...inconsequential changes. You can't honestly tell me that you'd rather have me be a little on the fat side than-"

"She wasn't fat. Don't you dare."

This got me a patient look. "A LITTLE on the FAT side," she repeated, "than like THIS. I'm in the best shape of my life. People...women...compliment me on it all the time. I've got a self-confidence that I've never gotten to experience before. I'm happier looking like this. Isn't that a good thing?"

"Sure. Okay. So just don't change, and those women can have you. I don't mind. I mean, it's not like I want you."

"And my hair," she reached up, ignoring the jab, and shook her bangs with her hand. "It's just hair, John. And I know you liked it long, but it was such a pain to care for. Anyway, this is what women do in their 30's now. They get shorter haircuts. More mature haircuts. And you can't tell me you don't think that it's cute..."

I burst into laughter. "Do you think you're going to out-argue my feelings? Is that what this is? If you just explain to me why I should like the haircut your boyfriend picked out for you, suddenly it will just happen? Is that how you think feelings work?"

"I'm just saying that I'm sorry for what my motivation was in making these changes...and no, by the way, he did not pick out this haircut for me...but that it doesn't have to mean that they aren't good changes. They are independent of my crimes. I had simply gotten a little lazy about my appearance, and needed to start thinking about my hair and my body like an adult...as a woman in her 30's who needs to be aging gracefully and thinking about middle-age, and how that's going to look. For crying out loud, I had changed my diet and started exercising and looking for haircut ideas weeks before the affair even started! You can't possibly blame my haircut for-"

"That hardly makes the two independent of one another. Do you really believe that it's a coincidence that you felt the need to completely reimagine yourself just before you decided to give yourself a little something 'extra' on the side? Or that you cut your hair short just after Carl told you he liked short haircuts on women?"

"That doesn't have to mean that these changes are all because of him!"

I gave up, waving her off. "You're still doing it," I observed.

An exasperated sigh, and a bitter, "What?"

"Trying to change the way I feel using arguments and persuasion. It's not going to happen. It doesn't need to happen. You DO get that, right? As much as I miss my wife, I have to tell you...I'm actually glad you aren't her. I'm glad that the memories I have of the person sitting in front of me are so totally separate from the memories I have of the woman I loved. It's made things a lot easier for me."

"Well, I don't want to go back to being the frumpy little thing with an embarrassing pant size and ratty hair."

"Then don't. If you think so little of that person, then never become her again. Why do you think that I'm suggesting you should? Anyway, I don't know who put it in your head that that's what you looked like before, but you were..." I stopped, and barked a laugh. "Now you got me arguing against feelings, too. Just forget it, okay Karen? Just forget it."

She glared at me for a minute in heated frustration, then visibly relaxed and tapped her finger on her wine glass. "How about if I ask you a different question, instead?"

How about not. "I'm listening."

"If you could..." A big deep breath. "If you could answer this question without sarcasm, or bitterness, or without just laughing at me, I'd really appreciate it. But, if you have to do those things...I guess I understand."

Interesting. "Ask away."

"If you were me..." She glanced up at me, perhaps expecting the derisive laughter to interrupt as early as that, but I just waited. "If you were me, what would you do? If you had failed, and had fallen as far as I have, and were trying to make things right somehow, how would you go about it? What would you do to start that process?"

"Things will never be right."

"Please, John. Words aside, you know what it is that I'm asking."

I did, and I considered it for a minute. "I'd leave. I'd leave, and give everybody the distance they needed to start healing without me. If it took forever, then I guess I'd never come back."

"No you wouldn't. You wouldn't walk out on your family. Not for anything."

"You're right. I wouldn't." But it was worth a shot. "I suppose I would do everything in my power to try and get back to the person I used to be...to the person and the beliefs and the dreams that had prevented me from being so selfish for so much of my history. I'd throw away everything that wasn't a part of who that person used to be. And I'd say some proverbial "Hail Marys"...out myself to people I would never want to out myself to, in the hope that the shame of those moments would provide a lesson of some kind. Things like that." I took a deep breath. "And I guess an affair is a selfish thing, so I'd make a point not to do anything selfish for a very long time. I'd try to...I don't know...excise that tendency from myself."

She was quiet for a long moment. "Well, that's a lot to think about."

"And I would have to hurt the person that I had cheated on you with. Even if they didn't deserve it, or if I didn't think they did, I would have to hurt them very badly."

She flinched, not liking that part. "Why?"

I considered for a moment. "Well, I suppose because for a time I had put them before you. I had had an active part in their happiness, coming at your expense...at your eternal expense. And sharing that happiness with them during that time must have been far more important to me than anything you might feel as a result...than your very life...or I never would have done it." I wiped my eyes. "I would need to show you that, while I might have placed this other person so far above you for that short time, their long-term meaning to me was less than nothing. I would need to take it to the extreme opposite, to show you...I don't know what. I don't know what it would show. But I would do it. I would do it, and I would never look back."

She stared at me, her eyes wide and her lips parted. "I believe you would," she said quietly.

We sat there for a time.

"There's...there is just one other thing, John."

"If you're about to tell me that you're pregnant..."

"Oh god, NO! I..." she caught my wry smile. "Very funny."

"No it isn't." But I was still smiling at the terror that had crossed her face.

She took a moment to collect her thoughts, then pushed onwards. "I don't really know how to bring this up, but..." her eyes flickered to my face nervously, then away. "I mean, I know it's been a long time since you've had sex, an-"

"We are done here." I stood up and walked out of the room.

To her credit, she didn't call after or chase me, or anything like that.

It wouldn't have gone well, if she had.

--==--
CHAPTER EIGHT
--==--

"Daddy?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Can I ask you something?"

We were just coming in from a Friday night movie, and I was surprised by how tired I was. I was looking forward to getting the girls into bed and then passing right out. "Go ahead, sweetie," I said wearily.

"In the...um..." she pulled on my coat sleeve, "in the movie?"

"Yeah?"

"That daddy got to save the family 'cause he was strong, right?"

I kicked my shoes off. "Sure, honey."

"How come YOU'RE not strong like that?"

I froze, and closed my eyes.

What a question to be asked.

"I'm...pretty strong, honey."

"No, you're not!" She insisted. "You're skinny!"

I turned without thinking to look at Karen. Her expression was somewhere between pity and "I told you so."

Thanks for the help, bitch.

I turned away from them all. "I'm stronger than you think," I said to the room. "I'm stronger than any of you."

"But you are pretty skinny..." the other little voice behind me insisted.

--==--
CHAPTER NINE
--==--

I don't know how she did it, exactly, but everybody was there.

I came home from work to find a house full of people. Every single person from our social circle, everybody who I would usually see or hope to see at one of the Baileys' neighborhood parties, was there. Even a few of those who rarely attend were sitting around here and there, sipping their drinks and laughing.

There were people I didn't want to see there, too, but I didn't notice them at first.

In fact, as soon as I came to the door, Karen jumped up and started shouting around the house for attention.

"I need everybody together in the living room," she called out. "I have a surprise announcement to make, and I need everybody to hear it." I caught her eye with a questioning look, but she ignored it, turning away and waving people into the living room.

I came around the corner, nervously curious, and felt my blood pressure spike.

There, in the corner of the room, was Carl.

She'd invited him into my house? The fucking bitch brought him to my HOUSE? After everything that she'd said the last few months? After he'd HURT her, she'd brought him to the place where our children lived?

Before I could react, Karen was talking to the group.

"I need to tell you all something," she announced, "and it's not going to be very easy for me to say, so I'd appreciate it if you'd all be just a little bit patient." She glanced over at me, and who knows what she saw, but she took a deep breath and then continued. "I need everybody here to know what my husband has been doing for his family, during the last year. I...I did something very selfish. Something awful. And he responded by putting every last bit of strength he had to worrying about someone other than himself. He put it to protecting our children. I owe him for that, more than I could ever tell you."

Some of the people in the crowd were glancing over at me, not sure where this was going. I wasn't sure, either.

I mean...she wasn't really doing this, was she?

It didn't take very long to find out. "I had an affair." The sentence dropped right down into the middle of everyone like a live grenade, and all the air left the room.

Suddenly no one was looking at me at all.

"There wasn't anything wrong with my marriage, or my husband, or my life, or anything. I just...let myself get coaxed into something that I had no business even considering doing. What's worse, I disrespected all of you in the process."

Carl was glancing around the room, now, looking nervous. All his friends were about to find out exactly how safe it was to have him around them. Our eyes met, and he actually had the nerve to look a little pleading.

You're on your own, now. Welcome to the club.

"I had my affair," Karen continued, "and I stole time from my husband and children to be with another man. I risked everything I had, for nothing at all. I didn't try to prevent it from happening. I thought it was something that life owed me.

"And what's worse, the man who seduced me away from the people whose lives I should've been protecting with my own was none other than my husband's supposed friend, Carl Jensen." There was a gasp from somewhere, and some low murmuring. "He pursued me, he seduced me, and I let him. Worse, I wanted him to do it. I encouraged it."

People were looking around the room, finding Carl, and whispering to their spouses. He was suddenly very interested in finding his shoes.

"Some of you have complimented me on the changes to my appearance over the last year. Well, those changes came about in part because of my affair. They were my way of distancing myself from the woman I'd been, and from the people I loved." She held her arms out in presentation. "They don't look so nice in that light, do they?

"Some of you remember my husband becoming ill at one of the parties last summer, even though he didn't seem to be drinking very much. That was because he discovered that Carl and I were using all of you to play a little game with each other...to see how much we could act like a couple in front of you and still pull the wool over your eyes. We were selfish, stupid, and we were mean. And maybe some of you won't want to be my friend anymore, after hearing that, but I hope that you continue to be there for John. He's fighting for his family, for his daughter's well-being, and it's destroying him.

"You've all seen it happening. It can't have escaped any of you how much weight he's lost, or how quiet he's become. He's lost everything, and instead of fixating on that fact he's doing everything he can to make sure others don't lose, as well."

She glanced over at me again, and gave me a weary smile before continuing. "You should also know that Carl was very practiced, and very effective in his seduction. I won't pretend that I was as hard to get as I should've been, but without going into the details I promise you that it was a determined pursuit, almost clinically professional. I'm only telling you this as a warning, so you can all be more careful than I was." She glanced around the room, like a teacher waiting for questions, then said, "I'm sorry for luring you all here under false pretenses. I'm sorry for having abused your trust in me, in the past. I know the party probably seems like it's over right now, but I'd ask you to stay and drink and chat and have fun. Gossip about me, ask John how he's doing, let your children play downstairs. I'm going to leave, so I'll be out of your hair.