The Ghost of Red River Falls

The door to the bedroom was barely cracked open. To my horror, I now realized that the sounds I was hearing coming from the bedroom was the unmistakable sound of a man and woman engaged in some really hot and passionate sex. There was a lot of oohing, aahing, moaning and other sounds of raw animalistic pleasure.

My heart was beating a million times a minute and a lump was quickly forming in my throat as I knew the only possible explanation was that Wendy was fucking someone in our own bed! How the hell could she do that? As bad as things were for us, how could she try and fix it by bringing another man home while I was at work? It was bad enough that she cried out for her dead husband while we were having sex. But how could she do this with another man?

I wanted to catch a glimpse of the bastard that was fucking my wife in our bed. I crept ever so close to the door, as silently as I could. The pain in my ankle was making me grimace and I had to desperately fight the urge to cry out. I leaned in toward the door and tried to glimpse through the thin opening. The sounds of sex were louder but there was something odd about it.

It didn't sound real. They sounded almost - recorded? When I was finally in position, I could see Wendy fully sprawled out on our bed spread eagle, her eyes clenched shut and a look of both pleasure and pain contorting her beautiful face. A medium-sized penis was sliding in and out of her sopping wet pussy - only it wasn't attached to a man. It was a dildo that Wendy was fucking herself into orgasmic bliss with. In Wendy's left arm, she was obviously clutching a large photo frame tightly to her chest.

The audio I was hearing was coming from the TV in our bedroom. Unmistakably, I was hearing the voice of Wendy and her late husband quite clearly.

"Oooooh, fuck me, Kevin! It feels so good when your cock is in my pussy!"

"Yeah? You like it when my cock is buried in your pussy?"

"Oh, yes, Kevin! My pussy aches for your cock! Ooooh, yeah! That's it! Give me that hard cock, my love!"

"Oh, God, your pussy feels amazing! My cock can't get enough of this amazing pussy!"

I was completely mesmerized by what I saw. I was overcome with lust on one hand, as evidenced by the growing erection in my pants, despite the pain in my left ankle. On the other hand, I almost felt like I was on the verge of tears. It was obvious that Wendy was clutching a photo of Kevin in her arms while she made love to him in her imagination and fucked herself stupid with the dildo - all while watching a private video that she and Kevin had made of themselves having sex.

Unconsciously, I had quietly opened the door further to give myself a better view of the macabre sex scene taking place in front of me. I had a ring-side seat to what I felt was yet another nail in the coffin of what I had once thought was going to be a marriage that dreams were made of. I had to be the only man on the face of the planet who was actually being cuckolded by a dead man. The thought only added to my increasing humiliation and embarrassment. Even in death, it appeared that Kevin was more capable of sexually satisfying my wife than I was.

I was deep in thought when Wendy apparently came down from her orgasmic peak long enough to open her eyes to get another glimpse of the action on the TV screen of her hot fuck session with Kevin. As she did, she instinctively cast a glance toward the door and saw me standing there. A gasp of horror followed by a brief shriek sent her scrambling from the bed and into the bathroom where she quickly slammed the door shut.

I felt stupid just standing there and so I turned and limped my way back toward the kitchen and living room. Alcohol suddenly seemed like an overwhelming necessity and I strained to get myself to the fridge and retrieve a tall bottle of Budweiser. The hospital had also given me a two-week supply of Percodan and I was suddenly hit with the urge to swallow the entire bottle and wash them down with a dozen bottles of beer. Or wine. Or booze. Or whatever type of quaff we had in the house. I didn't even know. And I cared even less.

It was over an hour later before I heard the bedroom door open. Blissfully, the home movie had ended just shortly after my discovery of Wendy. I was fully laid out in the new recliner that Wendy had bought me last week. By that time, I was into my fourth or fifth beer and the Percodan had finally begun to take its effect, along with a gigantic bag of ice I had on my left ankle to keep the swelling and pain down.

Wendy was dressed in her usual silk robe, clutching it shut with her hands to shield her body from me in shame. It seemed overly dramatic and a bit unnecessary, compared to what I had already seen earlier and the fact that we'd had sex several times. It wasn't like I didn't' know what she looked like naked.

"How...I mean,...what are you doing home?" she asked, fighting to hold back the tears.

"We had a house fire this morning," I said, slurring a bit from the beer and the pain meds. "A porch gave way and I fell about four or five feet through it. Twisted my ankle bad, sprained the hell out of it." I took another long pull from my Bud heavy.

"I'm sorry. I'm...so sorry. But...why didn't you call me?"

"Wasn't that big of a deal. They just took me in and got me an x-ray. I'm off work for a week or two and they gave me some pain pills."

"You...should have called me, Jack. You should have friggin' called me!"

"What, and not get to see the show back there?" I said, gesturing towards the bedroom. "Hell, I wouldn't have missed that for the world."

My stinging comment had Wendy's tears flowing. Even when she was crying, I couldn't help but think how beautiful she looked. Suddenly, I felt like an asshole for saying it. I was just about to apologize when Wendy gave me ample reason not to.

"It's your fault," she sobbed.

"What? Are you kidding me? How is it my fault that I came home from my dangerous-as-hell job, and walk into what is supposed to be OUR bedroom, only to find my beautiful wife fucking herself stupid with a dildo, holding a picture of her dead husband to her tits, while getting herself off watching a homemade porno of her and said dead husband? How that fuck is ANY of that MY fault?"

She thought for a few moments. "Because it is! Every time we make love you're always saying that I'm lusting after Kevin and crying out his name! That's all you've been talking about since we got married! You even said it on our wedding night, Jack!"

"Well, that's because it's true! You have been doing exactly that! I can't help it if you're so wrapped up in the fantasy of having sex with your deceased husband that you don't even realize what you're saying! But that doesn't make it untrue! That doesn't change the fact that I know what I heard and I know what you said!"

Wendy was sobbing uncontrollably now and had no answer.

"Why in the hell did you marry me, Wendy? It's obvious that you are nowhere near to being over what happened to Kevin. What in the hell possessed you to marry me?"

"Because I loved you, Jack. And I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you," she sobbed.

"I can't help but notice how you used past-tense to say that. The question is, how do you feel about me now? Especially after what I saw today? Does that finally help it dawn on you what I've been saying the past few weeks?"

She was crying so hard now that she couldn't even muster an answer. I wanted to get up and console her on one hand but I also wanted to slap some sense in her with the other hand. But the beer and pain meds were having their effect and my grapefruit-sized ankle was preventing me further.

All I could do was just watch in my dazed and confused state as Wendy stood up and ran back to the bedroom. I must have fallen asleep after a while but I had to listen to Wendy crying in our bedroom for over an hour, helpless to be able to do anything about it.

I wasn't too far gone from the beer and the pain meds because I was at least able to get up and hobble to the bathroom a couple of times that night to take a wicked piss. Or two. Or five. I don't remember but the beer and the pain meds went right through me.

I was still able to manage not to piss myself though and spent a very disturbing night on the recliner, continually icing down my ankle and drifting off to sleep with the help of my only friend in the world, Mister Budweiser.

There were nearly a dozen dead soldiers on the coffee table the next morning when I finally awoke. And my left ankle was cold and wet from continually being iced down all night. I was actually able to stand and bear a little weight on it, though, which was good news.

Wendy came into the kitchen about ten o'clock all dressed and ready to go. She looked good, complete with makeup, although her face still wore the battle scars from what happened yesterday.

"I made up some stuff for you to have for lunch, Jack, and also some leftovers for you to heat up for supper if you want," she said, very reserved.

"Where are you going? I thought maybe we could spend some time together today and just talk things out."

"Ed and Joanne invited me over. I'm going to be spending the day with them."

I was crestfallen. "I really think we need to spend some time together and trying to really communicate, Wendy. Won't you please stay with me today?"

She let out a long sigh. "I need some time with people I trust, Jack."

"What, suddenly you don't trust me anymore? What have I done to deserve that?"

"It's not that, Jack. I just need some space today to get my head cleared up. I think you and I just need a day apart to just...sort this out for ourselves before we bring it up with each other."

"Running away from this isn't going to make it better."

"I'm not running away," she said, gathering her purse and keys. "I'm just giving us some time to sort out how we feel for each other."

"I already know how I feel about you, Wendy. I love you and want to be with you. I just need to know that you're in this for better or for worse, just like me."

"I know, Jack. That's what I need to figure out. Look, I'll be home after supper. I gotta get going." And she headed out the door and into the garage. I watched her drive away and the house suddenly felt like more of a prison than it had before. I was pretty much stuck there, couldn't really leave and had no one to spend the day with. It was pretty much emotional solitary confinement.

The only thing I had in my favor that day was a mini-fridge in the basement that was fully stocked with beer. I had my favorite recliner in the world down there along with my giant-assed flat screen TV. After a lengthy shower, I decided to spend my recovery in the basement and treat myself to a long day of baseball games, guy-type movies and a steady supply of beer and Percodan. With my fucked up ankle, I had to scoot down the basement stairs on my ass.

After an hour or two of Wendy being gone, I actually started to feel marginally better and was quickly becoming more comfortably having some alone time. I still had a hard time wrapping my head round the events of the last two days but the beer and pain pills made the processing easier.

In addition to being a firefighter, I'm also a certified paramedic and spent a lot of my earlier career at RRFFD running ambulance calls. I always told my patients that pain meds do one of two things - they either take away your pain or they make you not give a shit that you're in pain. And, sometimes, not giving a shit about pain is just as good as not being in pain! Alcohol in generous amounts can, at times, have the same desired effect.

Wendy didn't get home that night until almost nine o'clock. I was still barricaded in my man cave watching the Minnesota Twins getting their clocks cleaned by Oakland, much to my dismay. But sports are still sports and I was at least enjoying the game.

Wendy didn't say much when she got home. We just stared at each other more or less and engaged in the perfunctory 'hi, how are you/how ya been' type of conversation. She then announced that she was tired from spending the day at Ed and Joanne's and that she was going to turn in. It was an obvious ploy to avoid the elephant in the room and I could tell that she was hiding something. But it was after nine and I wasn't in the mood for another knock-down drag-out fight, either.

She walked over, gave me a quick kiss and asked if I needed anything before she went upstairs. I said no and she left and I was once again alone with my ballgame and my own thoughts.

I wasn't too keen on spending yet another night in a recliner but I also couldn't stomach the thought of spending a night in bed with Wendy - not because I didn't want to sleep with or next to her - but because I still couldn't get the images out of my head of what I had seen take place in that bed a little over 24 hours earlier. And, so, it was in my favorite recliner that I spent yet another night. Oh, well. At least the beer was close and very cold.

I hobbled my way upstairs the next morning and cleaned up with a long shower, a fresh shave, and a clean set of clothes. I found Wendy in the kitchen, sitting at the table and eating a bowl of fresh fruit.

We exchanged the usual morning pleasantries, regarding each other, it seemed, more as formal acquaintances rather than as man and wife. I helped myself to a large bowl of Frosted Flakes and sat down at the table with her. As soon as I did, Wendy got very serious.

"Jack, I want to talk about something with you," she started, avoiding eye contact.

"Good. It's about time."

"Look, I know this probably isn't going to be easy for you," she said, my stomach sinking. "But Ed and Joanne are leaving this coming Wednesday for vacation. They're talking Greg, Bobby, Melinda, Nate and their families with them."

"Wow. Sounds like quite a trip. Where are they going?"

"They're going to Hawaii for ten days. And," she said, hesitating, "they invited me to go along with them."

I immediately put my spoon down as I absorbed her words. "Hawaii? For ten days?"

"Yes, Jack. Ed's mother was supposed to go along with them initially, but she just had a pacemaker put in last week and they're concerned about her flying so soon afterwards. So Geraldine is going to stay home and they asked me if I wanted to take her place."

First of all, I knew full well that having a pacemaker is a fairly routine and innocuous procedure. Sure, anything can happen, but it isn't very damned likely. The truth is that Ed and Joanne probably told that line of bullshit to Wendy and she believed it. Their plan was almost certainly to bring Wendy all along - probably to get her away from me.

"I take it there is only room for one. And I'm not invited," I replied coldly.

"You guys at the fire department have to pick your vacation so far in advance. You'd never be able to get the time off in such short notice, Jack."

"Yeah, I know that, Wendy."

"Look, I know you're probably upset, Jack, but this could turn out to be a good thing." Pssht. I could tell that even she didn't believe those words.

"So let me get this straight. After everything that happened on the day I got hurt, your way of dealing with it is to NOT deal with it and spend the day at Ed and Joanne's yesterday. And now, when we really need to communicate, spend some time together, and get our collective shit in a pile, you're gonna run off with Ed and Joanne and their family to Hawaii for ten days, leaving me here all alone and trying to get this mess figured out on my own!"

"I just think we need some time apart, Jack. We need to get our own heads straight before we can talk about us as a couple and work on our marriage."

"And you think this can best be accomplished on the beaches at Waikiki with Kevin's family?"

"Look, Jack. They're still my family, too! Just because Kevin is gone doesn't mean that my relationship with his family comes to an end!"

"No, it doesn't. And I would never expect it to. I just wish you were as focused on the family I was hoping we were starting when we got married as much as you focus on the family you had with Kevin."

"And we will, Jack. I promise! Just as soon as I get home. I know you're probably hurt by this and feel excluded but trust me. This could be good for both of us to have this time apart. You need to trust me, Jack."

"Jesus," I said, shaking my head. "We haven't even gotten to take a honeymoon yet and you're off to the tropics with Kevin's family."

"We still can, Jack. When we have our time off together in late August, I'll let you take me anywhere you want to. By that time, hopefully we will have gotten all our problems sorted out."

I just stared at her in disbelief. It was like talking to a brick wall. Nothing I was saying was getting through.

"I don't want you to go, Wendy. I really don't."

She was taken aback. "Are you trying to tell me I can't go?"

"No, I'm not. I don't own you, Wendy, and I can't tell you what you can and cannot do. I would never treat you that way. But you and I are at an early and critical time in our marriage. And we're on extremely thin ice. As I said yesterday, running away from me won't make this any easier. You're gonna go on a ten day vacation from your problems. I get to stay here and have to deal with them every day while you're gone."

"I have to deal with this situation the best way I know how, Jack."

"That's fine," I said, standing up from the table. "Just remember that any decisions you make might have a consequence you didn't intend. This situation is telling me a lot about your commitment to our marriage, Wendy."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Jack? Is that some kind of a threat?"

"No, it isn't a threat at all, Wendy. You are making a decision to get away from me and our problems for a while. But you don't get to determine how I will react to your decision." I put my bowl in the sink and retreated downstairs.

We said little to each other the remainder of the day. I got a couple of buddies from the fire department to help me grab my old bed out of my storage rental and set it up in one of the spare bedrooms in the basement. I didn't feel like spending another night in a recliner or a sofa. I also grabbed my old bedroom dresser and essentially moved all of my stuff out of the master bedroom and into the basement spare room.

Wendy observed it all and said nothing. The next two days were extremely cool and icy. She taught her two remaining classes on Monday and Tuesday of that week and had a fellow Spanish instructor and teaching assistant fill in for her for the remaining classes of the summer. Since it was nearly the end of the term, her teaching assistant was more than capable of proctoring the final exam for her students. She spent the remainder of her time either packing for her trip with the Parmellys or shopping for things she would need on her trip. She told her superiors that she needed it for personal and mental health reasons. Surprisingly, they agreed.

My despair and loneliness grew minute by minute as she got closer to leaving. Greg and Bobby would drive their own families to the Minneapolis airport while Nate rode with Melinda and her fiancé. Wendy was going to be riding with Ed and Joanne.

I got out of bed at six on Wednesday morning and caught Wendy just as she was getting ready to head out the front door.

"What, you weren't even going to say goodbye?"

"Look, Jack, this isn't easy and I didn't want to make it harder than it is for you."

"Once again, you take the easy way out and just avoid me. Thanks. Thanks a lot," I said, sarcastically.