I Hate Surprises Ch. 03

Our talks also confirmed to me that she loved me very much, and that she wanted our marriage to continue; but she didn't have much hope that it would. She seemed even more convinced than I was that I could never get over what she had done a second time.

I saw Barbara McDonald twice more, talking through the idea I had in mind, until I was confident I had thought it all out and it made sense.

Neither Jennie nor I wanted to subject Diana to a cheerless Christmas with both of us, so they shared Christmas Day and Diana spent Christmas eve with me in my hotel suite—I'd put off finding an apartment until after the holidays. Diana asked a few more questions about our marriage, but I was determined not to draw her into it—and certainly not to mention her mother's cheating.

Between Christmas and New Year's Day, Diana and I went off for a few days of skiing together, and that really cheered me up. The being away, the physical activity, and the delight of my daughter's company were all what I needed.

When we got back I called Jennie and asked if we could talk on January 4th, after Diana had gone back to school. She asked if she could make dinner for us, and I said that would be great.

********

CAN THIS MARRIAGE BE SAVED?

Dinner with Jennie was harder than I thought it would be. We had lots to say to one another about Diana, how well she was doing, what she was planning for after graduation and so on. But when we were done with that topic, a new one was hard to find.

So we found ourselves eating mostly in silence, though the dinner was delicious. Jennie had obviously gone to a lot of trouble. She had also planned her outfit carefully, and she looked fantastic.

After dinner, I suggested we take our coffees into the living room. Without waiting any longer, I plunged right in.

"Jennie, it seems like it's time to talk about our situation. Can you tell me: what would you like to see happen now?"

She looked at me, very surprised. "Do you really have to ask me, Brad?"

"Humor me," I said. "As if I didn't know—just tell me what you want."

Slowly and thoughtfully, she responded. "I ... would like our marriage to continue, Brad. I would like you to ... be able to forgive me ... somehow, and live with me again. And love me." Suddenly there were tears in her eyes. "All I want is for you to love me, Brad—the way you have loved me, so wonderfully, for so long. And the way I love you." She stopped for a moment as crying overtook her.

"But how can that happen?" she cried. "How can you possibly ... get past what I've done a second time? And in our own bed? Honestly, Brad—I don't see how I could ever live with you if you had done such a thing!

"I've been thinking of how I could possibly make this up to you—and I can't! I just can't—I can never make it right!"

She cried, her face in her hands, and I watched her. If remorse was part of what I needed to see, to help me heal, I was certainly getting a full dose of it!

I moved over to the couch and gave her a handkerchief, waiting while she calmed down a bit and dried her eyes.

"Jennie—if we both want the same thing, there ought to be a way to make it happen."

She looked up at me. "But how? Even if you ... take me back, how can you ever trust me again? Or look at me without thinking ... of what I've done?"

"I actually have been thinking a lot about this, and I have an idea. Do you think you want me back enough to work for it—to prove to me that I really matter to you?"

"Of course, Brad!"

"Jennie, don't say 'of course' too quickly. What if I asked you to do something very difficult? What if I said, Do this difficult thing and I will believe in you again, believe that you love me enough to be faithful? The thing is, it IS something very difficult."

She was past her tears now, calm and very serious. She looked straight into my face. "I can't imagine what you're talking about, Brad. But I know that I owe you, and that I have something terrible to make up to you. Please just tell me what you're talking about."

I took a deep breath. "Jennie, I think we should separate for a year. And in that year, I don't want you to go to parties or date at all. I also don't want you to see any men alone—ANY. If you have to have lunch with a client, let him bring his wife, or else you bring a co-worker.

"I know how much the attention and admiration of men means to you. It's certainly what got you into trouble with Anderson, and it seems with Atherton as well. So I'm asking you to live without that admiration for a whole year. If you can pass that test, I'll be able to believe that you can be faithful to me."

I sat silent then, watching her face as she thought about it.

"So—I could go out with women friends, but not men friends, no matter how innocent?" I nodded. "And no parties either?" I nodded again, and said, "and none of those big charity dinners or dances, with lots of men and women around."

She thought some more.

"Brad," she said, a bit hesitantly. "What about ... well, what would you be doing for that year?"

"I'd be living my life," I answered. "Working, traveling ... probably dating, if I met someone who interested me. I promise you that I won't let anything get serious—if at the end of this year you've lived up to your side of the bargain, I'll be ready and waiting for you. But I'm not going to live the same life of social deprivation that I'm asking you to live—because I'm not the one who cheated on our marriage."

Her lip quivered as she looked at me. "I don't know what scares me more—being so cut off from ... from social life, or the idea of you ... dating someone else."

She started to cry again. "I betrayed you twice, Brad—and I'm so jealous of you with another woman that I just can't stand it!"

I put my arms around her, but said nothing, letting her crying subside.

Finally she got up, out of my arms, and paced around the room. "I'll do it, Brad. It seems terribly hard—but that's obviously the point.

"And you need to know: I am scared, scared to death. I don't know what it will feel like without men around to flirt with, to tell me I'm lovely, to let me see that they desire me.

"But I'm even more scared of you with someone ... younger, sexier—someone who will excite you, and make you forget me."

She was trying hard not to cry again. "Listen," she said. "Can we stay in touch? See each other, maybe every few weeks? It would be so much easier for me if I could see with my own eyes that you were still in my life."

"Of course," I said. "And in any case, we'll be together in North Carolina for Diana's graduation in a few months. We can even fly down there together if you like."

She smiled at me, looking like a little girl trying to be brave. "I would like that, Brad."

********

With Terri's help, I went looking at apartments in downtown St Louis, and settled on one within a week or so. It was nice having a lot of money—I could simply choose what I liked without worrying about the cost.

The place I picked was nothing like our suburban home. It was up on the 28th floor, new and modern-looking, full of light, with floor-to-ceiling windows in several of the rooms. There were three bedrooms (I intended one as a study, and one as a guest room for Diana's visits). The master bedroom had room for a king-sized bed, it had an enormous walk-in closet, and the bathroom had the largest Jacuzzi I'd ever seen. It was clearly meant for two, but it looked like a family of five could fit!

It also had a beautiful modern kitchen, not that I did very much cooking. And it was just a 6-minute walk to my office. It felt perfect—and since I had no desire to

see my old bedroom again, having witnessed Jennie and George Atherton fucking in it, it was nice to have a new place that I felt good about.

I went back to the house a couple of times to pack my things, and Jennie helped me. I told her about the apartment, but we didn't say too much besides that. She was looking better than when we had our "big talk"—I think having something difficult she had to do had gotten her determined side fired-up. She was back at her real estate work with a vengeance, and she mentioned to me that she'd already had to turn down three social invitations because of her commitment to me.

********

One of the things I least wanted to do was check up on Jennie, but I wasn't comfortable not doing it. I called Sam Abbott, whose detective agency I had used once in a difficult case involving an employee I thought had been stealing from me. Sam's people had handled it quietly and effectively, and I trusted him.

Sam and I met in a diner for lunch, and I explained that I had a private job for him—I wanted discreet surveillance on my wife. "I'm sorry to say she cheated on me, Sam. Now we're separated, and she's promised me she won't see any other men for a year."

He said nothing, just raised his eyebrows at me.

"So I'd like her watched, but not continuously. Maybe two weeks out of every month for the first few months. And above all, very discreetly. I absolutely don't want her ever to know that she's being watched. If your guys lose her while tailing her, that's better than letting her know. They can always get her again the next day or something."

"OK," he said. "What would you like exactly?"

"Above all, photos and video of her with men, if there are any. If there aren't, then a weekly phone message to me at my apartment." I gave him the number.

"And I'd like the phone at our house tapped, unless that's illegal."

"Technically, you're still the homeowner, right Brad?" I nodded. "Then technically you're asking me to put a tap on your own phone—perfectly legal."

We arranged a time for me to let his men into my house to put in the tap, while Jennie was at work, and I thanked him.

"I'm sorry you're going through this, Brad. You don't need me to tell you, but that is one beautiful lady. I hope things work out."

********

I buried myself in hard work, trying not to think too much about Jennie, and before I knew it spring was coming. She and I talked about once a week on the phone, and we'd had a couple of lunches together. The stiffness we'd had back in January had eased a lot, and I think we both enjoyed one another's company. We managed to stay away from sore subjects, and got great pleasure talking about our daughter. Diana was due to graduate in a couple of months, and had lined up a terrific job in an art gallery in New York.

In March I went out on my first date in 28 years with anyone other than Jennie. I'd gotten to know Kate while bidding on a job for a hotel chain that had a branch in St Louis; she was the purchasing manager for the hotel. They ended up not hiring us, but a few months later I ran into Kate at a charity fundraiser I went to each year.

Kate was a beautiful brunette of about 35—I say "beautiful" advisedly, because neither she nor anyone else is the equal of Jennie. But she was tall and very striking, with dark eyes and a curvy, rounded figure. She also was single, and she liked me. We shared several dances at the fundraiser, and a few days later I called and asked her to dinner.

Over steaks and baked potatoes and some really good red wine, we told each other our stories. Kate had grown up on the West Coast, in a very difficult family situation—alcoholic mother, emotionally distant father—and had moved away for college and stayed away. Perhaps because of her parents' bad marriage, she had shied away from marriage herself. There had been a few serious boyfriends, but she'd found it safer to be primarily committed to work than to another person.

I gave her the short version of my situation. In a few words I said that my wife had cheated on me, and that she and I were separated. I made clear that Jennie and I still talked, and that we might get back together, but that it wouldn't be right away.

"So I'm not very good date material," I concluded. "Or perhaps, if you're not interested in marriage, I'm perfect date material!" I laughed. "In any case, Kate, I needed you to know what my situation was. I'm really enjoying your company, but I'm not 'fully unattached', whatever that means."

"Thank you, Brad. During our business discussions together I got the feeling you are an honest person, and you have just been very honest with me.

"So let me do the same. I like you, and I have to admit I'm attracted to you. But it sounds as though we ought to take it slow for a while—though I hope we'll be having another date soon!"

I laughed again, and said that it sounded like a good plan to me.

********

As May approached, I spoke to Jennie about travel plans and then booked tickets for us down to North Carolina, along with two hotel rooms. We had a wonderful weekend, enjoying being together with the focus on Diana. Because the weekend was all about our daughter, there wasn't any pressure on Jennie and me to do more than bask in our love and pride for her.

Diana was in her element. It pleased us that she was proud of us, as she introduced us to everyone in sight: her golf teammates, her coach, her major advisor, several of her good friends. When Commencement Day came, both Jennie and I had happy tears in our eyes, watching our little girl stride confidently across the platform to receive her diploma.

Sadly, it was just two weeks later that our 25th Wedding Anniversary came and went, unobserved and undiscussed. I didn't want to talk to Jennie about it, or even be with anyone. I spent the day alone, driving around in the countryside for a while, then back in the apartment watching bad movies on TV. Hardly the happy anniversary I thought I would be having!

It was about three weeks later, in early June, when I was greeted by a very unwelcome call from Sam Abbott. I'd been hearing from him regularly, always with a brief report that Jennie had not been seeing any men—nor had the phone tap turned up anything at all disturbing.

But this time he said, "Brad, I'm sorry to have to tell you this. But Jennie had a long lunch last week with a tall guy, maybe a little younger than she—early 40s, probably. They ate at one of those outside cafes downtown, and sat there for a long time. It didn't look at all romantic, though. And earlier this week she had a couple of phone conversations with a guy named Art, who told her he was coming to St Louis for a business meeting. They clearly know each other very well."

"Is the guy dark-haired, a little bit of a pot-belly, and he wears horn-rimmed glasses?"

Sam said yes, and I sighed with relief.

"Sorry, Sam, it never occurred to me to let you know. That's Jennie's brother. He's in town for a couple of days. Jennie called and told me he was visiting, and I should have called you."

"No problem," Sam replied. "I'm glad to know it's nothing. I'd be delighted if all this money you're paying me turns out to be wasted!"

"Me too, Sam, believe me."

********

When Jennie and I met for lunch the next week, something within me had changed. The "man" who turned out not to be a man, but her brother, had calmed me down a bit. I felt less on my guard, a little less worried that any day now Jennie would be seeing someone else. It had been six months, after all.

Whether or not she sensed the change in me, we had a particularly nice time. After lunch I proposed a drive along the river before we both went back to work, and she enthusiastically agreed.

We didn't speak much, just breezed along, enjoying the warm air and the sunshine. A couple of times I felt the urge to say something encouraging about our situation, but I resisted. Instead I glanced at her whenever I could, marveling as I often did at her beauty. I knew her so well—and yet looking at her sometimes could be utterly thrilling.

When I drove Jennie back to her office, she hesitated before getting out of the car.

"Brad, I haven't asked you anything about this—but I worry about it all the time. Are you ... seeing anybody?"

I wanted to answer her carefully. "Yes, Jennie, I have been dating somebody. But it isn't serious, and it isn't sexual."

She looked at her hands. "Do you think ... do you think it will be?"

Again I thought a moment before answering. "It might, Jennie. But even if it does get sexual, I think it will still be a casual relationship. I still love you—very much. And I'm committed to you for the course of this year, as I promised."

She sat in silence, still not looking at me. Finally she said, "OK, Brad. That's fair. You know that I just hate the idea of you ..." Then she shook her head.

"No, sorry," she said. "I know the deal. Thank you for answering my questions."

I leaned over to kiss her cheek. She surprised me by throwing her arms around me and hugging me tightly, almost desperately. When she let go, she managed a brave smile, then got out of the car and went swiftly up the path to her office.

********

Perhaps it was the memory of that passionate, desperate hug that prompted me to surprise myself the next week. Kate and I had another dinner date, our fifth or sixth evening out together. A couple of those had ended with some very intense necking in my car, but we hadn't gone further than that.

This time, though, Kate pulled back from our kissing and said, "I'd love it if you'd come inside for a while, Brad."

While I hadn't been pushing her, I'd been looking forward to this moment. Kate was very attractive and exciting. I hadn't had sex with anyone in more than six months, and I'd had a couple of fabulous erotic dreams about her. I was separated from my wife, who had cheated on me twice. So why hesitate?

But I did. I sort of froze for a moment, and Kate saw it instantly. She smiled ruefully, then stuck out her tongue at me.

"Jesus, Kate," I said in some embarrassment. "I've been looking forward to that invitation, even dreaming about it! But ... I think we shouldn't. I still feel ... attached to my wife, and you deserve better than just a part of me."

She grinned at me. "Even this part?" she teased, caressing my erect cock through my pants.

"It's all right, Brad, really. I do want you, and I think we could be really great together. But to be honest with you, I'm a little afraid that if we started having sex, it might start getting way more serious with you than I want it to—especially since your wife is in the picture."

"To be honest, Kate, now that we've decided to do the smart thing I'm incredibly disappointed! You are so beautiful, and so sexy!"

She kissed me again, then got out of the car. Coming around to my side, she leaned in and said, "let's make this a rain-check then. I can't bring myself to hope you and your wife don't stay together—that wouldn't be very kind.

"But let's just say if that if it doesn't work out, your first call damn well better be to me."

I laughed, thanked her for the kind words, and promised that it would be. In a few more sentences, we agreed that it would be best to stop seeing one another for the time being.

Someone once told me that the way you can tell you've done the right thing is that it feels terrible! Judging by that axiom, my refusing to go to bed with Kate may have been the rightest thing I've ever done.

********

By the end of the summer I was antsy and restless. Work didn't hold my interest, but nothing else did either. Even playing golf was less fun than usual, in part because I enjoyed it most when Jennie and I played together.

My get-togethers with Jennie had become a bit more frequent, and more relaxed. We were able to enjoy one another's company without stressing out too much about, or even really talking about, our odd situation. But I don't think I acknowledged to myself how much I was missing her.

My wise friend Terri came into my office one day and said, "OK, boss, I'm dragging you out to lunch. Let's go."

When we were sitting, eating our sandwiches, she said, "what's the problem, Brad? I haven't seen you so distracted in a long time."