The Ghost of Red River Falls

I got up early the next morning and decided it was as good a day as any to get back into my distance running. I was gone for almost two hours, which was probably a lot longer than I should have run, considering how long it had been since I last ran in spring time. But being out and about with nothing to do but run gave me a chance to clear my head a bit.

By the time I got back it was only 7:30. But to my dismay, Wendy had already been up and left for work. Worse, she had written a note and left it on the table.

Babe,

Left for work early for a meeting. We need to talk and get some things settled. I'll be home mid-afternoon.

W.

Shit. As the day went on, I started to steel myself to the fact that she was going to insist on the man cave disappearing. The one area of the house I could sort of call my own, it was also the one area of the house where I didn't feel like I was constantly being watched by a ghost.

True to her word, Wendy came home right at 2:30. She changed out of her teaching attire and into a light sun dress. I have to say she looked absolutely amazing in it. If it hadn't been for the fact that she was pissed at me, I would have taken her right then and there.

She immediately started in on me about the man cave and how we had agreed that decisions regarding decorating of the house were to be made by both of us and not just arbitrarily by one of us.

"What about all the furniture in the bedrooms, living room and kitchen?"

"What about them, Jack?"

"Wendy, I never got any say in whether I wanted to keep that stuff or how any of the rooms should be decorated. You just wanted everything to stay exactly the way it was."

"What would be the point in throwing out perfectly good furniture that matches the décor of the house so well?"

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with any of my stuff, either, honey. I bought good stuff for my apartment."

"Yes, but it was all stuff that screamed 'bachelor pad'. Everything in this house is stuff that was picked out by a loving couple, Jack. It gives off the impression that two mature, loving and successful people live here."

I wasn't getting anywhere with her. "Look, this is difficult for me to say. It would kill me if I offended you, Wendy. But I'm going to have to trust that as a married couple we can share with each other what is on our mind."

"Of course we can, Jack."

"Okay, then. Here goes. This whole house is exactly the way it was when you and Kevin lived here. It still holds the essence of who you were as a couple. Now that I'm living here, there is nothing here that says anything about me. I can't help but feel like a stranger here. There is nothing here that has any of my personality to it. That's why I felt like I needed to create a space in the basement. I could leave everything on the upstairs the way it was for you and Kevin and carve out a little niche for myself that wouldn't impact that at all."

"This place is your place, Jack. I know it probably seems a little foreign to you because it is more familiar for me. This place will grow on you the way it did for me. It is the two people living in the house that make it a home, not the furnishings, Kevin."

My heart sank and my stomach filled with acid. "What did you just call me?"

A look of realization came over Wendy's face. "I'm sorry, Jack. We were just talking about Kevin a second ago. It was just a slip of the tongue."

"Kind of like our wedding night," I reminded her.

"Jack, that's not fair. I totally don't remember saying that." I just looked away in disbelief. Wendy made a peace offering by reaching out and putting her hands on my arm. "Look, we haven't even been married a full two weeks. I don't want us to start our life together by arguing like this. I'm willing to let the man cave stay for now. Fair enough?"

I was still stinging from being called Kevin. But I accepted the olive branch because I, too, was tired of fighting already. Maybe things would get better and I would just eventually get used to everything. After all, it was just stuff, right?

We decided to take a walk around the neighborhood and it felt good to hold hands and engage in some idle chit-chat that didn't involve furniture or her previous life.

I surprised her again by making beef stroganoff for supper that night. Being a career firefighter makes you a cook out of necessity. And if you are a bad cook, it will teach you to become a good cook, lest you face the wrath of your hungry brothers.

Wendy led me to bed after I had fallen asleep during Letterman's Top-10 list. There was no sex that night but it felt good to at least share the same bed with my wife again.

I ended up working my regular shift the next day at the fire station, which was fairly uneventful. When I came home the following morning, Wendy had left me a note letting me know where she was and what she would be doing during the day. She also said she planned to host a family get-together this Sunday at our home. She planned on inviting her parents and my parents, along with my sister Jane.

Much to my chagrin, Wendy also invited the entire Parmelly clan. I knew immediately that I was in for a repeat of last week's debacle. Thank God I still had my man cave intact. At least I could escape there if I had to.

One nice gesture, however, was that Wendy had gone to the furniture store while I was working at the fire department and had bought me a recliner that was nearly identical to my favorite one, only it was styled quite similarly to the rest of the furniture in the living room. It even included the built-in remote and beverage holders. Wendy temporarily moved Kevin's recliner from the living room to our spare bedroom for the time being.

Everyone started showing up Sunday right around noon and I played host and welcomed everyone as soon as they came in. My parents, Jim and Sandra, were among the first to show up and I gave them the nickel tour, while Wendy's family let themselves in. I had just finished showing my parents the upstairs of the house when the entire Parmelly clan showed up.

Ed and Joanne gave the living room a once-over and immediately spotted the fact that Kevin's chair was missing.

"That's not Kevin's recliner," Ed blustered. "What happened to his chair?"

"Uh, Wendy bought me that a few days ago," I explained. "The other recliner was moved to the spare bedroom that Wendy also uses as an office." I refused to refer to the chair as Kevin's chair.

"Jesus! There wasn't a damned thing wrong with that chair. No need to go and hide it, for Christ's sake," he mumbled.

"Uh, Ed and Joanne, you remember my parents Jim and Sandra?"

"Oh, yeah," Ed said, half-assed. "Nice to see you all again. Dear," he said to Joanne, "why don't we make our way to the kitchen and see Wendy."

As they left my Dad just gave me a look of 'what-the-fuck-is-his-problem'. I tried not to make a big deal of the slight. What did bother me, however, is that Ed and Joanne sat down at the kitchen table. Our home is set up with a fairly open kitchen that includes the main dining area and only has a small breakfast bar in the kitchen itself. Ed promptly sat down at the head of the table and took ownership of the space, irritating me to no end.

The rest of the Parmelly's - Greg, Bobby and Melinda and their significant others - all herded into the house and began strolling about and checking out the house to see what else was different, now that I had moved in. Nate was the last one to show up and greeted me with his typical smirk and a ridiculously strong handshake.

It didn't take everyone long to discover that I had made some changes to the basement and people started gravitating downstairs. All four of the Parmelly grandkids were immediately smitten with the pool table and foosball table and began to play raucous games of both. Apparently, they had neither knowledge of nor interest in the rules to either game, but I wasn't about to interrupt their fun.

I'm also a bit of a gamer and have both an Xbox and a Nintendo WiiU system and picked out some age-appropriate games that the kids could play on the big screen TV. Greg, Bobby and Nate all spent most of their time down there, as well as my parents and Wendy's parents.

The only major source of irritation through the whole day was that, yet again, there weren't enough seats at the dining table, so I simply chose to eat downstairs with the kids. It wasn't too big of a deal as my own parents ate there with me and we had a good time watching the kids play. They had found a fun spot and weren't about to give it up.

Eventually, after dinner, Ed Parmelly got up from his spot and made his way down to the basement. It was just me and the kids down there as Greg's kids insisted that I play a game of foosball with them, two against one. Ed looked quite disapprovingly at what I had done and just grunted.

"You know, this isn't what Kevin and Wendy had in mind for this part of the house," he said. God, I couldn't get over the arrogance of the man. I knew that he was just trying to goad me into an argument or pray that I would make some kind of disparaging remark about Kevin so he could immediately report my transgression to Wendy.

"Well, I kind of decided to make a gathering space that was a little less formal than the upstairs...a place where people could let their hair down a bit. Seems to be a bit of a hit. I know Greg, Bobby and the kids are all having fun."

And they were. It was noisy down there with the kids playing and getting a little rowdy at times, but I don't mind the sound of people having fun.

Ed gave the space a final once-over, noticing that some of Kevin's other personal things were placed in one of the two basement bedrooms and stood there just shaking his head. He finally retreated back upstairs and I didn't say a word to him again that afternoon.

Everyone left the house by seven o'clock that night. Wendy's parents were the last to leave. Even Mike, Wendy's father, complimented me for my work in the basement and that he had a lot of fun today.

"I have to admit," Wendy said, "that your man cave was big hit. The kids had a blast and I can't remember the last time everyone was here and had such a good time. I missed that. Thank you, Jack." And then she took me in her arms and gave me a very passionate kiss.

She silently led me to the bedroom and shut the door. Then, she proceeded to peel off all of her clothing piece by piece. Wendy stood there in front of me completely nude in all of her amazing glory. I paused and simply took in the sight of her flowing and burning red hair, her amazing eyes, and her smile. I lowered my gaze downward, memorizing the look of each of her creamy white breasts - her nipples fully erect. I passed my gaze over her flat tummy, curiously amused by the unique pattern of freckles that outlined her navel. And finally, I nearly gasped as I took in the sight of her perfectly trimmed bush that was as equally bright as the mane of fire red hair on her head.

Wendy led me by the hand over to the bed and slowly stripped me down as well. I felt somewhat awkward standing there nude with a raging erection that was hard as steel. Wendy just closed her eyes and took my member in her hand and slowly caressed it, feeling the heat absorbed into the palm of her hand.

She gasped as I reached forward and palmed both of her breasts in my hands, delicately squeezing the nipples. With my left hand, I reached own and ran my fingers through her thick little red bush, cupping and rubbing her labia at the same time. After a few strokes, I felt the first rush of fluid seep forth from her pussy and I could tell her passion was rising dramatically.

Wendy reached over and turned out the bed lamp again, to my disappointment. I knew as long as I lived, that I would never get tired of the sight of her perfect form.

We ended up having sex for nearly an hour. Somehow, I managed to keep my composure the whole time, never wavered. I guess my body needed the physical act more than the emotional bonding that the physical act is supposed to create.

You see, I wish I could say that Wendy and I made mad, passionate love that night. But the truth is, only one of us did. Wendy cried out in ecstasy four or five times that night and mentioned both God and her lover's name each time. The only problem? My name was never mentioned.

Like I said, somehow I was able to finish the act only because I believe that my body needed the release. When it was over with, and the rush of hormones and serotonin subsided, the dark reality of my marriage set in once again.

Wendy quickly fell asleep, having been completely sated. She had completely let herself go tonight, probably because I never stopped her even when she was screaming Kevin's name at the height of her orgasm instead of mine.

When I knew she was asleep, I simply put on a pair of boxers, grabbed a pillow and made my way to the sofa in the living room. Sleep didn't come easy for me that night as I was emotionally torn in a way that I had never experienced. How could I be so in love with someone who appeared more and more as though she could never fully reciprocate that love to me? How do you deal with a wife who is so wrapped up in the fantasy of making love to her dead husband while she's making love to me?

The thought of Susan Sarandon from the movie "Bull Durham" kept running through my mind. 'Would you rather that I was screaming his name while making love to you? Or would you rather that I was screaming your name while making love to him?' The thought elicited a brief chuckle but was quickly replaced by the blanket of despair. It was beginning to feel more and more that I would never completely have Wendy's mind, body and soul all to myself. Lying there in that living room, I felt even more of a stranger than I ever had before.

I have no idea when I fell asleep but I was awakened around 4:30 by Wendy. She was dressed in a silky robe and obviously still in a fog from waking up and discovering my absence.

"Jack? What in God's name are you doing out on the sofa?"

"I couldn't get to sleep."

"After the session we had earlier, I figured you'd have passed out as quick as me, if not faster," she joked.

"We? The session we had?"

Wendy was puzzled. "Who else would I be talking about?"

"You have absolutely no idea, do you?"

Wendy just stared at me.

"You weren't making love to me tonight," I explained. "You were making love to Kevin. You called out his name tonight at least three times. You were so into the physical act tonight because, in your mind, you were having sex with Kevin and not me. Even though our bodies were joined, I was the furthest thing from your mind."

"That's not funny, Jack. I don't remember saying Kevin's name at all."

"Yeah, well I do. And it was pretty damned obvious."

"Why are you so obsessed with this? Why do you keep saying these things?"

"Because they keep happening, Wendy. And I have absolutely no idea what to do about it. Look at it from my perspective. How do I compete with that? I love you more than life itself but I feel like I'm never going to have all of you. I feel like you're still tied to your old life and are still trying to hang on to Kevin no matter what it takes. I mean, you're screaming HIS name while you're making love to me! How the hell am I supposed to compete with that?"

Wendy was silent as she groped for something to say. Finally, all she could manage to spit out was, "I gotta work in a few hours. I'm going back to bed. If you're comfortable on the couch then stay there. But I am not going to discuss this idiotic bullshit anymore! When you finally start making sense, Jack, I'll be waiting for your apology!"

She stomped off back to the bedroom and slammed the door shut. All I could do was just flop back on the sofa in frustration. Sleep, of course, did not come for the remainder of the night. Despite the incredible sex just a few hours ago, Wendy and I were drifting farther and farther apart.

I retreated to the basement and flipped on the TV to catch Sportscenter reruns and the early morning news shows. I gave Wendy a wide berth as she got ready to head to work, anxious to avoid another tense standoff.

I worked a 24-hour shift on Tuesday and then spent a couple of tense days at home on Wednesday and Thursday of that week. I tried to keep the peace as much as possible and had dinner ready for Wendy when she came home from teaching her classes. When we weren't eating lunch or supper, she kept busy preparing for school or spent most of her time in the bedroom reading a book. I ended up spending most of my time hanging out in the basement watching TV or playing Call of Duty. There were a number of projects around the house that I could have worked on but still felt like too much of a guest in the house to even offer a suggestion of remodeling, decorating or fixing something. There was a light fixture on the front porch that needed to be replaced. Wendy refused to allow me to fix it as she wanted to find the exact same style of fixture to replace it with. Why? Because she and Kevin had picked out that fixture themselves shortly after they moved in.

I was walking on egg shells daily and it was literally driving me nuts. The only time I didn't have acid pouring into my stomach was when I was either at work or when I was going out for a daily run. My daily runs were the only time I could divert my attention away from my crumbling home life and marriage. I was seriously getting tired of being the third wheel in this union. Sooner or later, we were going to hit a breaking point.

Friday, I was in the midst of a 24-hour shift when we got paged out to a house fire on the northwest side of Red River Falls. It was a fairly manageable room-and-contents fire that was contained primarily to the living room of a single-story bungalow. However, as we were making our egress from the home after knocking down the fire, the wooden front steps leading to the small porch gave way under my weight and collapsed. I didn't fall far but it was just enough to severely sprain my left ankle.

I was embarrassed more than anything. As an officer, I'm supposed to lead my firefighters by example. Even though it was beyond my control, no respectable firefighter likes to admit they're hurt and can't continue. I did my best to hobble on the foot as long as I could. But soon, I noticed that my ankle and foot were swelling to the point that it was going to be difficult to get my boot off.

Sure enough, I waited too long and a couple of our medics on scene had to cut the boot off, which ruined a $300 set of fire boots. I got a courtesy ride in one of our own department ambulances to Holy Family Medical Center. An X-ray revealed the sprain and no fractures, thank goodness. But I was ordered of work for at least a week, if not longer.

Once I made it back to fire headquarters, I was able to get in my truck and limp my way home. Thankfully, it was my left ankle that was injured so I could still use my right foot to help drive home. It was about one o'clock in the afternoon when I pulled my truck into the driveway. I entered the garage through the side door and was surprised to see Wendy's car in the garage. I normally wouldn't expect her home until 3:30 or 4:00. I did my best to hobble my way into the house without too much of a racket, even though I was on crutches. Having been banged up on the job once or twice before, I was actually used to using crutches.

I made my way into the kitchen and didn't initially see any sign of Wendy, other than her car keys and purse lying on the kitchen counter. Walking towards the main hallway leading to our bedroom, I could hear sounds coming from the bedroom. I did my best to creep towards our room, which was no easy task with the crutches.