Too Close for Comfort B

She stood there with a shocked look on her face as I headed for the living room and the sofa.

Over the next few days, we stayed away from each other. I often caught her staring at me, but she gave me my space. There were a few times when I knew she wanted to say something, but she held her tongue.

Finally, a little over a month since she'd been home, she came to talk to me just before I went to bed.

"Grant, I need to talk to you," she said. "The girls have been asking me what's going on with us. They've noticed that we don't even talk any more. I know that you said you needed time, but the longer this takes, the more it's tearing our family apart." She hesitated for a moment. And then threw in. "Grant, I miss you. I feel like my life is falling apart. We don't do anything together anymore."

I tried to compose myself, every time I saw her, all I felt was anger. I felt as if I had been betrayed in the worst possible way. I no longer trusted her or anyone else, except my girls. I felt like Dahlia betraying me, as close as we had been, meant that anyone could do the same.

"Grant; we've both been cleared of any STDs. I have one more doctor's visit tonight. I think you should start sleeping in our bed again. I also think that we should look into getting some counseling," she said.

"There you go thinking that everything should be the way you want it," I said.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who was angry. "At least I'm trying to do something to fix things between us," she hissed. "You aren't doing anything at all. You're just sitting there licking your wounds and whining. God damn it Grant. I'm human. I made a mistake. I had sex with some other men. It isn't the end of the world. Get over it."

"Did you say SOME OTHER MEN?" I asked calmly. Her eyes got huge as she realized what she had just said. I could see her face change. I could almost hear the wheels in her head turning.

"Grant, it really isn't what you think," she said. "Can you just be a fucking adult about this? Instead of sulking like a little kid, be a man about this."

"You seem to know much more about men than I ever expected," I said. "How would a man handle this?"

"A man would reclaim his woman," she said. "He'd do whatever he had to. He'd beat my ass to make sure I never even thought about it again. And then he'd take me upstairs and fuck the shit out of me, to show me that he was better than the other guys were. It was only sex, Grant. I didn't even like it. It wouldn't take much effort on your part to..."

That was when I exploded. "So that's what you think I should do, huh?" I yelled. "The first thing that's wrong with your solution is that no real man would ever hit a woman; no matter what she did. So your ass beating which was really only to make you feel less guilty about cheating on me isn't going to happen." I was screaming so loudly and so out of control that spittle covered my lips as I spoke.

Dahlia actually shrank back against my anger.

"Then there's the fact that you betrayed me, not once but multiple times. There's a name for women who go out and fuck lots of men," I said. "I think they call them sluts." Her eyes filled with tears, and she started crying, but I wasn't finished.

"As far as taking you upstairs ... you've already given me one STD. I don't see me ever getting between your diseased thighs again in life." I looked her straight in the eye and tried to calm down. I took several deep breaths and began again in a calmer tone.

"Dahlia, since the day that we met, you and I have had an extremely strong connection. I've always thought of it as a strength; however, in this case, it's become a weakness. I loved you so much that this just cuts me too deeply. I don't think I can get over this. I don't think counseling can help us. I don't see a future for us together."

"Of course we have a future," she cried. "Grant you're the only man I've ever loved. You just have to let me help you get over this. I'll do whatever it takes."

* * * * * *

Dahlia

My life was rapidly spiraling out of control. I was apparently a terrible manager. My boss had spoken to me once already, and I discovered that they had made a mistake. My promotion had been mostly based on work that Grant, and I had done together. His contribution was the bones of the reports. He had supplied the facts, the details, the data crunching, and the numbers. My contribution had been more along the lines of brightening up the reports to make them colorful and more artistic. I made the reports easier to read, but without Grant, there really were no reports.

There was also the fact that my easy-breezy way of handling people led to them being less productive. I felt as if I was beset from all sides. The employees, who were formerly my friends, now resented me because they thought they could do a better job of managing the department than I could. With our department ratings slipping at a rapid pace, the chance for bonuses was dwindling, and they blamed me.

On the other hand, my boss was putting more pressure on me too. "When I first spoke to Grant about this promotion, I was unsure about it," he said. "I was actually going to think about bringing another manager over to your department when Grant asked for his transfer and..."

"Grant ASKED to be transferred?" I said.

"Yes he did," he said. "Anyway, Dahlia, you need to step up your game, or I'll be forced to bring in someone else."

So my job was falling apart. My husband wanted nothing to do with me, and I had just found out the worst news of my life. Under previous circumstances, it had been the best thing that had ever happened to me. However, this time it meant the end of everything. I went to the doctor's office the other day as I'd told Grant to get my clearance from the STDs I'd brought back from Jamaica and found out that I was pregnant. From the doctor's estimated conception date, it had been during the time that I was in Jamaica. There was no way possible for Grant to be the father.

I headed for home that evening with more emotions than I could hope to conquer all running around in my head. In the very brief and extremely heated conversation that Grant and I had; he had pointed out a lot of things that I had never thought about. I had viewed what had happened to me just as that, as something that had happened to ME. I had never considered how Grant would feel about it. I guess a lot of that had been because I had been so determined to do anything possible to make sure that he didn't find out.

Now that it was all over, and I saw things with a clearer head, I realize that more than anything, I should have gone back to the hotel with Glenda. Barring that, when I first woke up after getting drunk and getting taken advantage of by Dennis on the beach, I should have gone home then.

I'm pretty sure that if I explained how things had happened up to that point; Grant, would have been very angry with me, but he would have realized that it wasn't my fault and he could have forgiven me. It wouldn't have been easy, but we'd have made it through.

There was no way that I could tell him that the second time when Dennis came to my room, there was no coercion involved. There was only curiosity. My body just wanted to know what it felt like to have sex with someone other than Grant. I guess I figured that it had already happened once, and I had been so out of it that I didn't remember any of it, so a second round couldn't make things any worse. I never thought that any of it would ever come out.

The result of that was that I got none of the excitement, the love, and closeness that I got from sex with Grant. Dennis was bigger, and I felt fuller. I felt as if he was about to split me open, but the overwhelming pleasure of being slowly and lovingly moved towards an orgasm was ... missing. And the emotional component was not only lacking; it was vacant.

And for me, one of the best parts of sex wasn't the drive for an orgasm; it was the cuddling and kissing afterwards. I lived for those moments when we were both spent that Grant wrapped his arms around me and refused to let me go. It was as if he was declaring that I was his property and nothing, and no one would ever take me from him.

I started crying when I thought about that. How could I have ever done anything to risk that? I missed the bond that Grant and I had always shared more than anything else. How could I screw up this badly with a man who could almost feel my thoughts?

Then suddenly I realized that I was in more trouble than I had ever imagined. Grant knew me more intimately than anyone else in my life. He knew me better than my own mother. Grant actually knew me well enough to know when my periods were starting. He had known me so well that the first night when I got back and tried to have sex with him, he'd been able to tell that there was something different. My lies hadn't convinced him. So when he discovered the STD, he had pulled away from me totally.

I think that he began pulling away from me that first night. He didn't even try to wake me up to go out and run with him that initial morning back. As I've mentioned I never liked running. I hate it. Nevertheless, I missed the time with Grant. It was so beautiful, especially in the spring or the fall, jogging along the nearby river or through the woods. It was always a great time for just the two of us to be together. He hadn't taken me or even asked about me going with him even once since I got back.

Grant always told me that regular exercise kept you healthy and extended your quality of life. He couldn't actually prove that it made you live longer, but he believed it. I wondered if his not asking me to go anymore meant that he no longer cared about my health.

The one thing I did know was that I needed to do something that I never thought I would ever consider. I pulled over to the side of the road and pulled out my phone. I made two calls. The first was to order a pizza for dinner that evening. The second was to set up an appointment at the local clinic.

When I walked into the house, with the two pizza boxes, my daughter ... let's face it, she was more her daddy's daughter than anything else, Lilly, practically attacked me. She took the boxes and ran through the house screaming, "Dad, pizza!"

I suppose I expected for Grant to come back, with Lilly in tow and take me in his arms, the way he always did. Who was I kidding; Grant hadn't once come out to greet me or welcome me home since this all started. I sat down at the kitchen table to compose my face and try to get my mood straight.

Surprisingly enough, I heard them coming towards me. "Daddy," whined Lilly. "Why can't we just eat the pizza while we do my Math?"

"Lill, Honey, you do that," he said. "You can start without me. Do all the problems that you can do without help and I'll come and help you do the others when your mom and I are done talking, okay?"

"Daddy you and Mom spend too much time together," whined Lilly. She obviously hadn't noticed that her dad and I barely have spoken lately. "You do understand that I'm fourteen, right?" she asked. "You know that in only four short years, I'll be off to college and heading out to start my life after that. You'll have the rest of your life to spend with Mom. But you only have four years with me."

"Okay, Lill, you're right," he said. He leaned over and hugged her. He squeezed her so tightly that she could barely breathe. Her smile only broadened until he let her go. I was immediately jealous of my own daughter.

"I'll be waiting for you, Daddy," she said as she turned and grabbed one of the pizza boxes and disappeared up the stairs.

"Grant," I began.

"I already know," he said. "You want to talk ... again; even after the argument we ended up having yesterday." As he said it, he was looking me over. The look on his face said it all. He knew there was something going on with me. The confusion on his face said that he didn't know what was wrong, but he knew there was something. I forced myself to keep my mind blank, and my face composed.

"Grant, Honey..." I began. He winced when I called him Honey. "I know this is going to be painful for both of us, but we need to talk." He just nodded and sat down at the table.

I took the Pizza box that Lilly had left and put it on the table between us. I got plates out, and poured a glass of wine for myself and got a Dos Equis Amber for Grant. Then I proceeded to tear my husband's heart apart.

I told him the whole story. I didn't leave out anything. I even told him about how the second time I had been curious about the way it would feel, but there had been no alcohol or force used. I simply gave myself to another man. I told him about how I had been blackmailed into what had happened over the next few nights. I told him the truth that there had been nine or ten different men, and I had sex a total of fourteen times.

I told him how much I regretted all of it and how I would never do anything like that again. I told him how much I treasured every moment we were together, and how I knew that I had ruined what we had, but that I loved him enough to take whatever he needed to make him feel better about what had happened. I was willing to do whatever it took to rebuild his trust and start over again. I would do anything it took to put us back together once more. I was about to say something else when I noticed that Grant was crying.

He wasn't sobbing or whining the way a woman does, but there were tears on the corners of his eyes and on his cheeks. He opened the pizza box. I think he did it more as a play for time than any hunger he might have had. He looked at the pizza and noticed that as usual I had bought two different types. Lilly had taken the pizza that Grant and she preferred. The two of them loved their pizza with nothing but cheese, tomato sauce and a lot of different meats. Rose and I liked our pizza in a unusual way. We were very experimental and wanted to try something different every time. We loved large varieties of peppers and even fruit on our pizza.

Grant took one look at the pizza and closed the box. He took a big swig of his beer and looked away from me.

"I guess I should have said something," he said. "I guess this is as much my fault as yours. So now we both have to live with the fallout." He got up and walked away from the table.

I smiled for the first time in days, although I was confused.

As he returned, I was brimming with questions. However, I was so happy I didn't, know what to do.

"Grant, Sweetheart, what did you mean this was your fault too?" I asked. In my mind, I saw myself trying to seduce him again that evening but getting a very different result. I decided against it. I needed to give him a little bit more time because I was sure that Grant would somehow sense my pregnancy if we got close enough. He had known before I told him when I was pregnant with Lilly.

I also had no idea how long I would have to abstain after the procedure the next morning. I had tons of questions for him. I wanted to know why he had transferred out of my department. I would have had no problem with him being named the manager. Didn't he realize that no matter which one of us got the promotion and the raise that the money would still be there for our family? As I thought about it, it made much more sense for him to be the manager and for me to work for him. Grant had known though that I had wanted that position and as usual had let me have it.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't call me that," he said. His voice was devoid of any emotion. "What I meant was that I never wanted you to go on that stupid trip. It felt to me as if my heart was being torn out. I never wanted us to be apart. However, I didn't say anything, because I knew that you wanted it so much."

His words echoed in my mind. Both Glenda and Mary expressed the same thought to me on the plane and in Jamaica. They had both told me that Grant looked awful before we left. They had wondered how I could have left someone who clearly loved me that much. I now wondered the same thing myself. Even so, at least we were back on the trail to making things better.

Grant's next move both surprised and shocked me. It wasn't a very flashy or flamboyant move, but it was devastating just the same. It wasn't a powerful or rapid-fire move, and it wasn't violent, but it hurt me even more than physical pain would have. In fact, I would have preferred for Grant to slap the shit out of me and tell me not to ever do anything like that again.

All he did was to pull out a stack of papers and place them softly and quietly on the table in front of me. He placed them down so carefully and gently that there was no sound made by them hitting the table.

Even without reading the title of the thin stack of papers I knew what they were and what they meant.

"Dahlia," he began. It was then that I noticed that he hadn't called me "Dahl," his nickname for me, ever since I got back. He hadn't used my full name, unless he was angry at me since we got together.

"I think we need to re-evaluate things between us," he said softly. "Maybe we've grown apart."

I stared at the neatly stack of papers in front of me as if it was a loaded gun. In some ways, it was very similar. A gun might've snuffed out my life, but these papers would be the end my marriage. It was pretty much the same thing.

I began to sweat and at the same time; I felt as if someone had kicked me in the stomach. I was having difficulty breathing, and my vision blurred.

At the same time, I was sure that Grant was on the verge of tears. He looked shaky on his feet, and he grabbed the edge of the table for support. He sat back down in his chair. Neither of us really knew what to say.

After what seemed like forever, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Grant, I won't do this," I said. "I will not allow you to end my marriage. I will not allow you to ruin our family. I will not even allow you to move out of this house. We are going to fix this. No matter what it..."

"I'm not moving out," he said. "You are; I'm not the one who threw our marriage on the scrap heap. That was you. I'm not the one who cheated and brought home a disease, so why should I move out?"

"You shouldn't," I said. "And I'm not leaving, either."

"Get a lawyer, Dahlia,' he said. "We'll work our differences out in court."

"We don't have any God damned differences," I said angrily.

"I can think of one," he said. "One of us thinks that their marriage vows don't mean anything. One of us thinks that breaking those vows is something that can be glossed over and forgotten about."

"Well there's another one," I spat. "One of us doesn't love the other one enough to forgive her when she makes a mistake."

"One of us doesn't know the difference between a mistake and a choice," he spat. "A mistake is something that happens inadvertently, or because you weren't careful. Letting multiple men fuck you on separate occasions was a choice. Maybe ... I'm not even sure myself; but we might have been able to get past the first one because you were drunk, Dahlia. That one, although you shouldn't have allowed yourself to be in that position, wasn't your fault. But all the others were; you made an informed choice. So now you have to live with the consequences of that choice."

"Thank you so much for clarifying what a God damned choice is, Grant," I screamed. "I've always been pro choice. I choose not to give up my husband. I choose ... not to break up my family. I choose not to end my marriage. I choose not to break my daughters' hearts. I choose not to ruin my life. I choose to work things out."

"Unfortunately, unlike the choice of what to do with your body that you recently exercised, some choices are not yours to make alone," he said quietly. Then he left me sitting there and went up to help Lilly with her math.