Falling Leaves

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Retired couple finds the good in forgiveness & change.
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ChaseQ
ChaseQ
89 Followers

Bob and Sandra White sat quietly in their living room. It was a comfortable place in the house that they could be found when the things of the day were caught up and they wished to only relax until going to bed. Bob would read the paper or a book; Sandra would do needlepoint or continue an unfinished novel, dog-eared somewhere in the middle long ago and then forgotten.

The forgotten novels were a good distraction for Mrs. White because they were always there and never ending. One always had to refresh themselves with a book only partially read to continue the story, but in Mrs. White's case, she would read past the marked section and mark the new page before putting it down again to be forgotten. The books were always there.

Mr. White on the other hand had his news. He had maintained his subscriptions to the local and state papers for three decades and probably read every one. Bob's newspapers would come year after year until the day his lifeless body lie in his very own bed and the paper is never retrieved from the porch. Only then will the papers cease to appear.

Bob and Sandra White's living room was a train station of sorts. They quietly busied themselves while they waited. Death comes like a train in the night and sweeps you away to your final destination. Night after night Bob and Sandra quietly waited.

Sometimes, although seldom one would speak to the other. Maybe a question would be asked or new information about the family or current events would be offered. Talking in the White house had become a laborious task. Neither one would ever admit to seeing it quite that way but might reflect on it and wonder when their lives did become so quiet.

Mr. White would laugh as he professed proudly that him and the Mrs. knew each other so well that they didn't have to talk any more; they could 'read each other like a book'. Neither of the White's would ever make the connection but Mr. White would never know how right he was. The dog-eared novels that lay in their places and yellowing with age were representatives of the White marriage. What was once new and exciting had been discarded after folding a page corner to remind the reader where to pick back up should he ever choose to.

Folding that page might represent the readers' good intentions to continue but just like Mrs. Whites novels, her marriage was littered with folded page corners that she just couldn't seem to get past. It was just too much work. Mrs. White would occasionally bring home a new book to read and toss out an old one. The new book wasn't full of creased reminders. She would even hold her new book differently. As she read, her hands gracefully cradled it until she was finished for the night and was ready to go to bed. She would carefully take the corner of the page in-between her fingers and pause to scold herself for not buying that bookmark that she liked so well before folding the page over and closing the book.

Mr. White was a proud man. He might say that unlike his wife's stacks of unread books, he reads the paper from 'front to back every damn day'. 'A mans gotta know what's going on the world he lives in.' he might say as he deposits the paper into his recycling bin. If a person asked him, could he tell what those news papers contained over the past thirty years. 'It's always somebody screwing someone else in one way or another, classifieds are always full of stuff for sale and you can never tell which teams are going to be the on top the way the sports writers are always stirring the pot. Always the same damn thing.'

Mr. White sees the paper cover to cover every day but it too is much like his life. It's the same damn thing. 'I wonder what they'll have tomorrow...' He thinks as he rolls it back up. '...maybe something good.' He fails to see the newness among the drudgery because it is easier. If nothing else changes, he doesn't have to either.

The mantle clock ticks by the minutes with a soft 'tock...tock...tock' of the swaying pendulum behind its glass cover. The sound is relaxing; it mesmerizes the mind and lets a person forget that each sound of the swaying pendulum actually represents their very life. Train stations have nice clocks.

Bob stopped reading his paper one evening at the metro section. Page B-9 to be exact. He lifted his head in thought, not looking at anything in particular and stayed that way for several seconds before placing his reading glasses next to his chair and folding his paper into his lap.

"Sandra..." He began in a matter-of-fact voice. "...why don't we ever have sex?"

Mrs. White looked up from her book and pulled the glasses from her eyes. She looked squarely at her husband with a blank look on her face. To a person watching, they could see that she was rewinding and playing this question over and over in her mind in an effort to find some solid ground to get her bearings. Mrs. White finally stalled.

"What?" She said, changing her expression from one of confusion to determination and challenge.

Mr. White repeated the question exactly as she had heard it the first time and the look of confusion tried to overtake her face once again but she was able to overcome it and maintain her composure.

Mr. White illuminated his thoughts, allowing his wife to continue to sit quietly. "I don't know that I would need it, but they have drugs now that help when things don't work as well as they used to. I just never really thought about it."

"Where in the world did you get such a notion?" Mrs. White said, hoping that a belittling comment would divert him.

"I don't see it as a notion dear. It seems to me it's a perfectly normal thing. So why don't we?" Her husband pressed.

Mrs. White answered in the same tone as before. "Well Bob, we're not exactly young anymore." She said shaking her head. "We're getting older, we've settled down. That's what people do."

The air stood silent for a moment except for the 'tock...tock...tock' over the empty fireplace.

Mr. White shook his head in a slow confident style. "I don't think so dear. We are getting older but we're not that old. We've only had sex a few times in the last fifteen or so years. The last time was almost ten years ago. Why is that?"

Mrs. White bit at him with her response. "We were busy Bob. We raised two kids and worked. We've had busy lives. We had things to do, remember?"

"Sex isn't a vacation that you have to plan and arrange for." Bob retorted. "It's less time than a person spends drinking a cup of coffee in the morning. You've had time to do that seven days a week for as long as I've known you. Schedules and sports and kids never interfered with that."

Mrs. White bit back her rising anger. "What are you getting at Bob? Where is this coming from?"

"What am I getting at?" Bob repeated back to her. "As I think about it Sandra,; I'm damn well amazed that we have kids at all. It wasn't a matter of time or schedule or anything else. It was the same as the discussion we're having right now. You always had some excuse, some good sounding excuse like a headache or cramps or a hard day or not the right time. Now you have an excuse that will last to the end of our days, we are now too damn old to have sex."

Bob began nodding his head slowly and looked straight through his wife deep in thought. "Too damn old." He mumbled to himself before continuing. "You've always done your best to be a hard person hoping that you would be respected more. The problem was that you felt like you had to be that way with everyone including me. I'm beginning to believe what I thought years ago. You have no attraction for me whatsoever. I was never the right guy. Now I can add to being unattractive, I'm also too old now."

Bob shook his head slowly with a realization that left him empty and cold."

Sandra sat motionless with a cold face that exposed her feelings. Initially she wanted to lash out at him but didn't. She was deflated and too tired in life to strike back.

"I have always been attracted to you Bob. I just never cared much for sex, that's all."

Bob slowly nodded his head with a far away look in his eyes. "Yep." He said quietly. "I just can't understand why in the hell you stayed with me Sandra. It doesn't make sense. Why didn't you just leave and have the life you wanted?"

"I had the life I wanted Bob. Right here with you. Sex was just not something I cared about. Everything else has been perfect."

Bob took a deep breath and refocused on Sandra. "It's you. It's been perfect for you. You are content to sit there and watch me die an old man as long as you have the freedom to do as you choose. It's always been that way. Since you care so deeply about me it's hard to imagine why you came up with so many excuses to keep me away from you physically." Bob was shaking his head in disbelief. "All this time you've been lying to me for whatever reason. You are sitting right there now still expecting me to buy into your lies." Bob looked distant again and added. "I hoped that one day you would let me in but you're never going to."

"I can't believe this! You bastard! By the way you talk you'd think the world revolves around your dick! Well I'm here to tell you that it's not the case. I was never her for you to use as a whore. I am your wife! I would think that I have some say over what I do and don't do with my body." Sandra was nearly breathless from the oncoming anger when she finished.

"I have never done anything to you to deserve this Sandra." Bob said calmly.

"And neither have I!" Sandra spat back.

Bob composed himself and took the paper from his lap and sat it on the table next to him. He leaned back in his chair and sat silent. His words formed in his mind before he spoke.

"I knew a guy once that went to surprise his wife with a gift because she had been feeling bad for a reason he didn't know but he loved and cared for her When he finally located her he found that she was with another man. It was awful. They thought they were alone but her husband actually saw the whole thing. He heard every word. She was begging the guy for it like a hungry animal. Can you believe that a woman would be so cruel and heartless? She would make excuses not to sleep with her husband but then fucks not only that guy but others when she would go on business trips. She slept with so many guys...and did all kinds of things with them. The life of the party she was."

Sandra just looked coldly at Bob. He continued.

"Yea, that was a pretty awful thing. I would know, I saw it." Bob said it with amazing calm. "I saw you on your knees sucking his dick. I saw you bending over the table so he could fuck you like a dog and I heard you begging him to go harder and harder. I even have glossy 5X8's of you. Envelopes stuffed full of as many pictures as you've had dicks stuffed into you. I was on a first name basis with quite a few private investigators across the country, each one taking pictures of you as soon as you stepped foot into their city."

Bob calmly took a breath and shook his head. "Don't care for sex much huh?"

Sandra was white as a sheet and couldn't speak.

"You were never as tough or as smart as you wanted me to think. I was never as dumb."

Sandra stammered for words. "Why didn't you..."

"A man doesn't make president at a large bank when he's been married to a whore and divorced in a scandalous affair because his wife was fucking the banks biggest clients now does he?" Bob's eyes narrowed and he became serious. "Your lucky Jeffrey turned out to be my son..." Bob saw her react. "...You were sweating it weren't you? Yea, I knew that too." He said calmly. "They picked up that you told Rodgers you were worried that he may have gotten you pregnant. That bastard cut and ran didn't he? Not much of a man you were fucking. You fucked him though and not your supposed 'perfect man'".

"I had a blood test done when Jeffrey was born. I would have put a gun to your head and blown your brains out had he not been mine. Sandra was shaking and starting to cry. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." She said over and over trembling more and beginning to cry more.

"Now I want to hear the truth Sandra. Do not lie to me." Bob's eyes narrowed in a way that scared her even more. Bob opened the drawer to his side table and took out a manila envelope. He pulled out a stack of pictures that were both color and black and white and tossed them into her lap. Sandra didn't even look at them. She knew what they all showed.

"Truth." Bob said coolly.

Sandra cried and looked at the pictures. She couldn't look Bob in the eyes.

"I want it all the time. I can't get enough. I was seeing Dr. Vullen about it, he was treating me for it. I had to be a good banker's wife. Good banker's wives don't want sex all the time. I couldn't control it. I couldn't let you know what was going on in my head." Sandra was spouting out the words as though they were choking her.

"I haven't done it in a long time. I haven't. I stopped. I have wanted to but I didn't."

"Do you have any diseases?" Bob asked wryly.

"No. I have been checked and rechecked. I never caught anything."

Bob went to her and gathered the pictures from her lap and put them away.

"You had everything you ever needed right here. I haven't had sex in years" He said standing next to her. "You had all of the sex you needed and wanted and have made me feel bad for wanting any at all."

"I'm sorry Bob" She said cowering in her seat. "Aren't we too old now? Haven't I wasted it all?"

"Do you still want it? Do you ever want it now?" Bob asked hopefully.

Sandra choked back an overload of emotions rising out of her. "I always do Bob, I'm sorry, I still always want it. I'm just old enough and mature enough to deal with it."

"For once just tell me what is in your head." Bob said.

Sandra bit at her lip nervously as she looked up at him. Bob reached out and stroked her breast through her shirt. "I love you Sandra but I want to know all of you."

Sandra dropped her novel onto the floor as she moved forward and pulled at the front of Bob's pants

Two weeks later Mrs. White finished one of her books and bought another. She also bought a bookmark to go with it. Mr. White only perused a single paper a day. The Wall Street Journal. Most went into the bin unread. Suddenly life was about more than falling leaves and changing seasons. Mr. and Mrs. White often found themselves leaving their old train station in search of their new adventures together.

ChaseQ
ChaseQ
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