Plain Gold Ring Pt. 01

"What's with you?"

There are so many things he could do right now. Ask her flat out. Play a game with her until he yanks some semblance of the truth from her. If he were another kind of man, maybe he'd hit her. He doesn't know which option to choose. They're all tempting.

So he just goes with it.

"Who is he?"

She has a grocery bag and has a jug of milk in her hand. She peers over at John and then goes about pulling out the rest of groceries.

"Who do you mean?"

"The guy you were fucking."

Her back is to him. She takes a big breath and slowly lets it out. Then she turns around and walks over to him, catlike. He knows the drill and stands, arms crossed.

"How long, Melissa?"

She stops a few feet away. "I don't know who or what you're talking about."

"I know you've been fucking someone."

"Why? Because June Silva told you?" Melissa lets out a brittle laugh. "She misunderstood."

He groans and drops his head back to stare at the ceiling. Or God. Or for some fucking help by a greater power. "Just admit it, Melissa. Please."

She approaches him. He meets her gaze and the admission is in her eyes. She doesn't have to say it out loud, but she's going to. At least she knows she owes him that.

"I'm sorry."

It's like every bone has fallen out of John's body. He puts his hand against the wall and leans all his weight into it.

"John..."

"Why?"

She stops short. Fiddles with her necklace. That was always her tell. "I don't know."

"You must know. You don't just start fucking someone other than your husband one day for no reason. It's not like 'oh, hmm, I'm bored today, let me go fuck some asshole!'"

Her cheeks are flushed with anger. "Don't yell at me!"

"I want you out of my house."

"John."

"Out. Tonight. I don't give a shit. You're not allowed to take anything until we get the cops involved. If you want the cops involved now, fine. Call them. I'm not letting you—"

"John, please. We need to talk." She burst into tears. "There were extenuating circumstances. I haven't... been right. It's not you. Not at all. I had a miscarriage."

That calms his down, perks his ears up. His muscles relax. All anger drains from him. He's left with confusion and fatigue. "What?"

"I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want to upset you. So I just held onto it myself, you know, thinking I could handle it alone. But it does something to you, John." He finally brings his eyes up to her wet ones. "It does something to you."

He takes her in his arms, a bit awkwardly. "You should have told me."

"I know," she sobbed. "I've done so many things wrong. I messed up, John! I didn't even like him. I didn't even... I don't know what you want to know. Just know that it was more a self-destructive thing than—"

"Shush. Is it over?"

"Yes. I'll stop seeing him."

John can feel her heart beating against his. His wife's heart.

"Can we go to therapy, John? Can we try one more time? Try to forgive me?"

He kisses her hair. He fell in love with her at first because of her hair.

"I'll try."

_______________________________

JUNE

It's a bright Saturday afternoon.The bees are buzzing, the kids are playing and the cars are passing by slowly. It's perfect.

She's going across town to see Tom's new apartment. They still text one another. She guesses he's her boyfriend. They scratch the other's itch. It suits them fine for now.

It's been a week since June told John that Melissa is cheating, but she still lives there. June sees them both outside sometimes, watering her garden, sharing a little kiss.

One time June parked her car to go inside and Melissa was just pulling into her driveway. Her eyes met June's and she laughed. Swear to God, she laughed. June doesn't know what Melissa did to keep John with her, and she doesn't want to know anymore. He's ridiculous if he can't see that she manipulates him, manipulates everyone around her.

She hears someone call her name. It's John, all sweaty. He's been running.

"Hi," he pants. "Been meaning to talk to you."

"Really?" she asks, but it's not truly a question.

Something clicks between them. John becomes uncomfortable.

It really isn't any of her business. She shouldn't be mean to him, or mad at him. She shouldn't even judge him. It's his life, his wife, his marriage. Just because she still has this hopeless crush on him doesn't mean he should say "fuck off" to his wife and run off into the sunset with her (though that would be magical).

He stares down and shuffles his feet. "Being an adult is complicated, June."

"I'm an adult, too," June reminds him.

He looks up at her with wide eyes, as if he'd forgotten. "Being an adult, adult."

June's eyebrows lift. "An 'adult, adult'? What the hell does that mean?"

He looks a bit mortified but presses on. "I don't know, when you're through with your partying stage and you have a mortgage and a lawn to water and... I don't know. Responsibilities."

She silently scoffs and presses her tongue into her cheek. He catches it and frowns.

"Look, I've gotta run and—"

"There were extenuating circumstances, June. She didn't just— she wouldn't just cheat on me, okay? You don't do that to someone you love. It was something you just can't understand, and I'm sorry that you must be confused and maybe even a little angry with me over it."

"More than anything, I feel sorry for you."

He pulls back a bit. "Excuse me?"

"Everyone. Everyone can see who and what your wife is, but you. And you're the one that's stuck with her forever."

He breathes harder, rubs at his shiny forehead. "You don't—y-you're way out of line. I mean, who the hell are you to make such... What is wrong with you?"

June shrugs, unrepentant. "Lots of things, I guess, but I wouldn't believe one of those woman's lies."

"She had a miscarriage, if you must know." He says it and then looks around him, like he hadn't meant to say it.

June shakes her head. "John. I saw her."

"Yes, yes, people do all kinds of things when they experience loss, okay, and—"

"John, she didn't look like she'd been experiencing any kind of loss. And she keeps giving me these smiles, these smug smirks that...Ugh." June trails off, wondering what the point is of continuing this.

Maggie and Sam were right. Nothing good comes of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong.

"Look, forget I said anything, okay? I wish the both of you nothing but the best. And I hope she stays away from Mr. Tall Tan guy with the mustache."

She stalks away but John calls her name.

Rolling her eyes, she sniffs away even the hint of a tear and turns.

He looks bemused. "What theater was it?"

"Are you serious?"

"What theater?" he presses.

"The one by the new Target."

She wants to know what's changed, why he looks a little sick, but she reminds herself that ignorance is bliss. Mr. John Carver isn't worth this. She thought he was. She thought he was this great, kind man who deserved only the best, who had a tremendous amount of self-worth. Not this...guy who stood in front of her, hardly recognizable.

"Goodbye, John." She hops in her car and speeds off.

JOHN

Melissa comes home at around 10pm. Late, but still earlier than usual. Her good behavior is slipping.

She gives him a little smile and then shuffles through mail. He stays in his recliner.

"I was thinking," John starts, "about the miscarriage today." Melissa stiffens. "Had you gone to the doc and found out you were pregnant, and then lost it, or had you taken a home test or...what?"

She spins slowly. "What difference does it make?"

He shrugs.

"Are you interrogating me about this now?"

"I was just curious. Did you go to the doctor after? It's worrisome. Wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

Her eyes narrow. "I feel like you're being sarcastic." He doesn't say anything to dispute that. "How could be so cruel to me right now?"

"And the therapist? Did you call the therapist?"

"Jesus Christ, John! You can call the therapist just as well as I can!"

"Yes, but you said you were going to do it. You were going to take care of all of it."

Melissa laughs and it's a laugh he's never quite heard before. It sends a chill down his spine. "God, you're still blaming me for everything! You think it's all my fault! That is so like you!"

"I was at the theater tonight. I watched you."

Melissa freezes. Her smile wobbles. Her breathing hitches.

"Why movie theaters, Melissa? Why not motel rooms? Or do you do that, too, on the weekends, when you're supposedly comatose on Carrie's couch?" He gets out of his recliner and crosses the room. "Or...or is it the illicitness? The filthiness? You liked that in the beginning of our marriage. I remember."

"What do you want me to say?" Melissa asks, her voice small. Weak.

"Nothing," he sighs. "Nothing. There's absolutely nothing you can say. Go upstairs and pack yourself a bag. Get yourself a lawyer. Maybe the veterinarian can help you out. Mr. Tall Tan guy."

Her teary eyes study his face. "Tall and tan?"

"I know what Ray looks like. That was his description."

"Ah." In spite of everything, Melissa smiles. "From June."

"This has nothing to do with her. Get your shit, and get the fuck out."

She reaches for her purse. Puts her shawl on. Gives him a tired smile.

"I am sorry."

John shakes his head over and over again. "No, you're not. You're a sociopath. You don't even understand what sorry means."

She shrugs. "I'm telling you what you want to hear. Would you rather I just go?"

"Yes. I just said that." He looks away from her because he might vomit all over the Persian rug she just had to have. "Get out of my sight, you piece of shit."

"I can do that for you."

Melissa goes upstairs, tinkers around. Comes down with a bag. She's going out without another word, but there's one last thing he wants to know. He probably won't even get an honest answer, but he has to ask.

"Did you even have a miscarriage?"

Melissa's heels stop clicking. She rests against the front door and stares at him for what feels like forever. The light catches her eyes as they study his face. He can see her weighing her options, and he knows then that no matter what she says now, she was never pregnant.

"You should be disgusted with yourself."

She doesn't look it.

"And just so you know, I have every intention of telling Ray's wife about the two of you. Who do you think he'll choose? The heiress, or the slut?"

For the first time during a fight—ever—Melissa pales. "You wouldn't tell her."

"Oh, I would." John gets a grim sense of satisfaction when she twirls her necklace around her finger. "Why not? Don't you think she should know?"

He plans on telling her anyway, once everything clears with his divorce. Because she should know. He's met her before. She's very pretty and nice. She can do a lot better.

"Are you planning on blackmailing me?"

John shrugs and heads over to one of the coffee tables. An old antique elephant Melissa loves is on that table. He picks it up and examines it.

"I've always hated this thing," he says, before throwing it on the floor. It breaks and there's absolutely no way it can be fixed.

Melissa swallows. Her eyes are wide. "What do you want from me?"

"I want the things I deserve. I want everything I ask for in the divorce. Or I'll tell Ray's wife everything. I'll tell your friends everything. Everything."

"Maybe I don't care about that," she says, pushing through with her false bravado. He'd always admired that. Now it just seems sad. "It's going to come out, anyway."

"Yes, but it can come out my way or just come out. Do you understand the difference, Melissa?"

__________________________

A few nights later, John sits outside with his beer and wonders how everything got so fucked. The beer is warm but he doesn't have the energy to get up for a new one. The warm beer'll do. He feels low enough that anything will do.

June pulls up in his car and he rolls his eyes. He doesn't want to deal with her judgmental eyes. He has half a mind to run up to her and say "There! I did it! Happy now, Ms. Nosey?" but he's not in the mood to talk to anyone, and that would be immature. He's not even sure if he should be mad at her. It was a fucked up situation.

But she crosses the street over to him. He keeps his head down and finally sees her delicate feet encased in pale pink ballet flats. Slowly his gaze moves up, over her thighs, her trim waist...her breasts.

"I saw Mrs. Carver moving out the other day. I—I feel horrible for how I spoke to you. How I treated you. I had no right, John. I'm sorry."

Without thinking, John gets up and hugs her. Tightly. He thinks he might be hurting her because she lets out a little squeak, so he lessens the hold a bit. But he can't let go.

And when he does let her go, he kisses her. It shocks them both. It wasn't planned. Now their lips are fused together, working against one another. Their tongues fuck each other's mouths as their hands slither around their bodies. He doesn't have time to think, to ask himself what the fuck he's doing. She's so young. She deserves better.

But he doesn't care. He takes more of her kisses, clutches her ass and presses his hard-on against her hip. She moans loudly against his mouth.

June tears herself away from him. Her eyes are bright, and her lips are red and swollen. She covers them with her hand and whips her head around. Eventually John catches on; they've just been making out on his front lawn, beneath his porch light

Thank God it's night, and a bit late. No one is out except for the occasional person walking their dog.

John takes her hand and drags her closer to him with the intention of bringing her into the house.

"No," June whispers. "No, not the house. Seems too...soon."

John nods, agreeing. She's right. Some of Melissa's shit is still in there. But he has to have her. She looks so young and beautiful beneath the moonlight. Her hair is loose and she's wearing just a little lip gloss—that tastes delicious, by the way—and her skin is all damp and salty from the humidity. This strange urge to lick her from head to toe and back again comes over him, and he nearly starts kissing her again. She pulls back with a smile.

She looks down at something and frowns. She picks up his left hand and removes the gold ring. "Off."

"Throw it behind your shoulder. Wards off bad luck."

June snorts, and it's a lovely sound. "You could sell it."

"Throw it behind your shoulder!" he says again, laughing with her. So she does.

He leads her around to the side of the house, presses his hand between her legs. She knocks her head back against the house and curses.

"Are you okay?" John asks while he licks a line up her collarbone.

"Yes."

He lifts her skirt. This feels so dirty, so wanton. He can't remember having sex like this in a long time. A mosquito buzzes by his ear, and he can hear crickets nearby.

She's wearing frilly pink panties. He never suspected she is the type. If he allows himself to admit he's fantasized about what's under her clothes, he knows he's always thought she'd wear dependable, sensible underwear. But these are pink and lacy. Nearly see-through and really meant to entice.

When he touches June there, she jumps. He can feel the wetness through the material.

"John," she whispers.

It kills him when she says his name. He kisses her, slow and steady. There are many things in that kiss, many things neither of them are ready for. It doesn't scare him, though. He's solely fixated on her body.

John slides her panties down and then rubs his thick fingers against her. She's so wet. It never occurred to him she could want him like this. They've had their moments but he thought that was all they were to her. He's underestimated her.

He doesn't know her that well at all, he decides. He kinda likes that. He can't wait to peel back each layer...by layer...by layer.

His thoughts cut off. His fingers are swimming through her cum. She's begging as loudly as she dares. A finger has the audacity to push inside her.

"Oh, yes." June runs her hands through his hair. The finger moves in and out. Another joins it. Then another. He fucks her like this for a while, enjoying the sounds she makes, the way she looks at him—all big eyes with a puckered brow, like she's worried he'll stop. Or that she'll come.

But he wants her to come with him. That's the ultimate fantasy—her coming around his cock.

He takes his fingers away and she makes a murmur of disgruntlement, which brings a smile to his face.

He pulls a condom out of his wallet as smoothly as he can but she's laughing at him.

"I'm sorry. Is this what you want? I've just been pawing at you and—"

She takes the condom and unzips his pants. They fall around his ankles, but before he can feel ridiculous she's sliding the condom on. She's touching his cock, jacking it off slowly. Years of fantasies are becoming reality.

"June, I don't think... I can't go slow."

"Neither can I." She pulls him closer by his shoulders, and then reaches down, helping him move inside her.

There's tightness. Resistance. He almost asks if she's a virgin, but he knows she's not. She's moaning slightly in his ear, making little squeaks. The sounds make him harder.

John's pace picks up. He wasn't kidding when he said he couldn't go slow. This has gone on too long, her Bambi eyes and her little hips and that one little freckle on her shoulder... He sucks on her neck and she lets out a guttural moan.

"John, you're making me crazy," she pants.

He hikes her up higher on the wall and lifts both of her legs so they wrap around him. The position is different and she starts involuntarily fucking him back.

They thump against the house, harder and faster until June's nails dig into John's arms and she's nearly crying.

"I'm coming," she whispers.

"Yes," he grunts. He releases in a cathartic flood; the orgasm is so unbelievably good that when he comes down from it, he can't believe the earth is still spinning. June's face is all red. She stares back at him while he shakes against her, his cock still inside her.

When they can finally part, June pulls up her panties. John sets himself straight and watches her as she stretches with a big smile on her face.

"Man, I'm going to be so sore tomorrow." She walks over and kisses him. "I'm gonna love it."