When We Were Married Ch. 05D

She smiled for the first time since Debbie had seen her lying on the floor of O'Briens.

"Wasn't that a night, Baby? You remember the fat guy. He crapped in his pants when I put a bullet into his thigh."

"And you said, 'Sorry my aim was off. Next one leaves you peeing out of a tube for the rest of your life'."

Clarice slumped back against the seat, tears starting to run down her face.

"That was a long time ago, Baby. When I had a life. And a husband."

Debbie reached over and took her aunt's hand. It was cold and clammy.

"You're still a beautiful woman, Clarice. You don't need to be going into bathrooms with creeps like that. There are a ton of guys that would trip over their tongues to get at you if you'd clean up and wear something low cut. Show a little boob. You always had great breasts."

"Fat old guys that can't get it up and can't keep it up when they do. And they won't lick your pussy but get pissed if you won't spend hours sucking their lollypop, and they act like they're doing you a favor by letting you suck on their limp linguini."

She opened her eyes and wiped the tears away with the back of her hands.

"You don't know, Baby. You don't know. You're young and your boobs still are firm. They're sagging cause they're so big, but guys go crazy for big ones that sag like that. They know they're getting the real thing. Wait till your boobs start heading for your belly button.

"Wait till the wrinkles get so deep even botox won't get them out. And your skin starts to sag and you get those first blemishes.

"Wait till young guys approach you cause they like the view from the rear, but once they see how old you are they look like they found a rat turd in their soup and can't get away from you fast enough."

She took a deep breath and let it out.

"I want to be you so fucking bad. I want young men with big hard dicks to try to get their hands on my boobs, to be rubbing my ass and creaming in their jeans when I accidentally touch them.

"I want to be young again, baby. And for a little while in that bathroom, before they got mean, I felt young. They were so damned big and hard and they wanted me."

And then she was at Clarice's Southside home and so damned grateful that BJ was spending the night with a friend and Kelly was on a trip to Atlanta with a friend and her family so she didn't have to be home with them. When Bill called, she'd make up some lie about spending the night over with Clarice -- a girls' night out.

Debbie helped Clarice out of the car. She was drunk and hard to hold up, but it made Debbie's skin crawl. She moved like an old woman. And she wasn't that old. Only 20 years older than she was. She wasn't old. Not yet.

She got her to the shower and then stripped her off. Clarice still smelled of piss and cum and it was still in her hair. She propped the older woman in a corner and let her slide down, then turned hot water on and went to a bedroom to strip off. She came back and knelt down beside the older woman and started shampooing her hair to get the smell and stickiness out.

Clarice turned her face toward her under the cascading hot water and kissed her on the forehead. She didn't know why, but Debbie felt like crying herself.

"You know I love you, Baby, don't you. You're the daughter I never had. That I could never give Frank."

"I love you too, Clarice."

"It's too late for me, Baby, but it's not too late for you."

"It's not too late. You've got a lot of years ahead of you. There'll be another man. Frank is a stupid asshole and he doesn't know what he's thrown away."

"He's a stupid asshole, but I still love him and I always will. I loved the man, as much as a woman can love a man. I would have done anything for him. I did. I let him have me every way a woman could. I did three ways because it excited him."

"He didn't deserve you," and now Debbie was crying.

"No, he didn't. But it doesn't matter. My life is over. It will never be good again. But you still have time."

"Time for what?"

"Frank is a dog. A fucking cunt sniffing dog. Like all men. They will all turn on you. They don't love the way we do. You get old, and they start sniffing around for new stuff.

"My own brother, as much as I love him, is no better. I know you've never heard of it, but when he and your mother were going around, he dumped her and started screwing every piece of ass he could find. She chased him for a year before he finally took her back."

Debbie just stared at her, disbelieving.

"It's okay. He's your father. You don't have to believe it, but it's true. And Bill will do the same thing to you if he isn't doing it already."

"No. Maybe he's let himself go and he's not the man he was, but he's a good man. He wouldn't-"

"I said the same thing about Frank. He was special because he was mine but he let himself get a belly and he started losing his hair. But he still found that bitch who spread her legs for him because he's got money and power. Bill's not the man he was in bed because somebody else is getting what he used to give to you."

"Clarice, you're wrong. Bill's not that kind of man. I'd know, I'd sense it if he was-"

"Just like I would have known what Frank was up to.

"You're wrong, Clarice. You're just wrong."

Clarice took her face in her hands and stared into hers with dead eyes.

"He will hurt you, Baby. He will hurt you. I hope I'm not around when your world falls apart like mine did. But it's coming. Please, don't let him. Protect yourself. Find someone. Don't be like me...not like me..."

Lying on her too-big bed, Debbie stared at the ceiling in the darkness and whispered, "You were right, Clarice. But... I protected myself and see what it got me."

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THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 2005 -- 4:30 p.m.

I picked up the phone after Cheryl buzzed me. I was trying to get out of the place by 5 p.m. for a change. The internal clock of the time I had left with Aline was running and it felt like something was chasing me and it was gaining on me.

"Ms. Martinez is down here. Can you talk to her?"

I wondered if Edwards had a message for me or if he was sending her down in another attempt to change my mind. Or if he had told her what was going on and she had her own reasons.

"Send her in."

A minute later she jiggled in. I had to smile. She was almost like a cartoon caricature of the female earth mother figure. But nobody was going to laugh at this cartoon.

She wasn't smiling. That in itself was unusual.

"Ms. Martinez. To what do I owe this pleasure? Did Mr. Edwards have a message for me?"

"Austin told me what's going on. You're going to do it, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"It wouldn't do any good to ask you to back off, would it?"

"Did Edwards send you down, Myra? Actually, I have to tell you, I had a higher opinion of you. I didn't think you'd use that face and body as a bargaining chip."

It was the first time I'd ever seen her really angry. I was glad the desk was between me and her. If she couldn't get her hands on me, she could probably beat me to death with those 50 pound tits.

"You can be such a stupid bastard sometimes, Bill. I should tell you to go fuck yourself because you're never going to get any of this now."

As she said "now" she placed her hands under those huge orbs and lifted them toward me as if offering them on a silver platter. I wouldn't have done it, not really, but I could have fantasized for a moment about cheating on Aline -- just for the pure physical joy of sex with this fantastic creature.

She let them sink and said, "But unfortunately, you and I both know I'd be lying. I am hurt, though. You really think I'd prostitute myself to help Austin get his way?"

"Myra, I've never asked, but I know you have a 'special relationship' with Austin And that's okay. You're both adults. But I know you work 'closely' with him, and I know how bad he wants me to change my mind about Smith. So it's a question I had to ask."

She gave me a strange look.

"I do have a special relationship with Austin. He's a wonderful man. Although it may not be the relationship everyone thinks it is. But he's never asked me to use my body to help him out. I know him. He never would."

"Okay, I apologize.Why are you here, Myra?"

"I did ask Austin what was going on between you two and he told me. You are really prepared to give up ten years in this office, eleven now I guess, to prosecute one case where even you admit there might be some room for reasonable people to disagree.

"I've always admired you for being a pit bull when you thought you were right. But there's stubborness, and there's obsession."

"Sometimes it's a hard area to draw a line. Maybe I'm just holding fast to what I think is right. Maybe I'm persecuting the poor bastard. But I have to do what I think is right and I can't let this one slide."

"You really don't think he'll fire you if you go ahead, do you? I know you probably think you're the only person in the world who'll walk through fire to do the right thing, but he's the same kind of guy.

"I think he will fire you if you push it, even if it kills any future political hopes he might have."

I tried by force of will to make the erection that was threatening to turn my zipper into shrapnel go away, but watching her breath, those red lips and those emerald eyes sparkling with anger or lust, and who the hell cared which, made me realize that while love is said to be the strongest force in the universe, sheer rampant physical lust runs it a close second.

"He might fire me, Myra. I know that. But, really, so what? The world will go on turning. I'll go work somewhere else.

"Maybe I've been here too long anyway. Maybe moving on is what I need. Being somewhere away from...memories...might be a good thing. And the office will go on. Whoever comes after me will do their best. No one is indispensable."

"No, nobody's indispensable, Bill. But you're very good at what you do because you care about the people who get hurt by the bad guys. It's never been a job for you.

"That's one of the things that has attracted me to you. You're not just another lawyer. It's never been a game to you. You're not one of those guys who can lose a case, go out and have a few drinks and leave it at the office."

"It's not that great a quality, Myra. It cost me my wife. And almost cost me my kids. I'd have been better off if I could leave it at the office."

She reached across the desk and laid her hand over mine. I thought, this is it, my zipper is going to explode. But it didn't.

"I'm being selfish, Bill. I don't want you to leave Jacksonville. I still want my shot if ....this thing with the French woman doesn't work out. But, I know that the chance for the hottest sex you'll ever have in this world isn't going to be enough to change your mind.

"So just think about this. Whoever comes after you isn't going to be you. People that you would have helped, would have championed, are going to suffer. A lot of them. Is prosecuting one man worth depriving all those other people of the chance for justice?"

I didn't even bother to answer her. What would have been the use. After a long moment she took her hand back. She shook her head and stood up.

"You are an infuriating bastard," she said. "I don't know if I want to slap your stupid face, or drop down and give you the greatest blow job you've ever had."

She walked out and left me barely breathing.

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SATURDAY SEPTEMBER 10, 2005 -- 9 p.m.

We stood on the Riverwalk watching the big yacht gently roll on the waves lapping against the river bulwark. The lights of restaurants and stores lit up the darkness behind us, but here there were only a few isolated lights on poles casting shadows onto the water of the St. Johns.

"It's beautiful," Aline said. It was cool enough that she shivered a little in her off-the-shoulder red dress.

We had had dinner at Benny's, arguably the best steak house in Jacksonville, then walked along the St. Johns looking at the private yachts anchored at berths along the river. Their owners boated in to eat at restaurants and hit the few night clubs worthy of the name in Jacksonville.

The yacht was all gleaming gold and polished metal outlining polished wood, nearly a hundred feet long. I stole a glance at her eyes.

"There was a hunger and a hurt in them so raw that it was almost sexual. I knew in that instant that she'd never stay, even if she left Philippe. She loved the sea and that life more than she could ever love me. Or Philippe.

She looked up to meet my eyes and saw that I had seen. She leaned into me, her arm snaking around my waist and leaning over to kiss me on the side of my face.

"I love you more than you will ever know," she said softly. "More than I should, more than I would ever have believed I could love another man."

"It's owned by a member of the Saudi royal family. It has been priced at more than $50 million. It's a floating home that can stay at sea for six months without having to come into port. There's a spa, gym, every luxury you could possibly imagine. The owner, they say, has four wives that sail with him and about a dozen kids."

She searched my face as I talked about the yacht rather than her words. I didn't know exactly what she wanted me to say. Or maybe I was afraid to put my feelings into words.

Since that call from Philippe at the beach, I felt like a man walking across a rotting bridge, gingerly feeling each plank as I stepped from one to the other, not sure when one would give way and leave me falling forever. He had been a name and a memory. Now he was real and standing between us.

"You don't have to say anything, Bill. I know how you feel. I have since the Bonne Chance. I hope you know how I feel."

"I do. And I know you love Philippe, or was that 'Je Taime' a lie?"

"No, but I wish it was. It would make it so much easier if it was."

I pulled her to me and smelled the fragrance of her hair.

"This is a mess."

"You're sorry now that I came?"

"I will never be sorry that you came back. I might be hurting later, but right now, I'm glad you came back."

I pushed her away from me and despite the feelings running through me grinned as I said, "This is like some1950s Hank Williams song -- 'I'll Be Alright...'Til The Hurting Starts.' We're living in a sad country western song."

She nestled against me and said, "Don't you believe in fate? Destiny, Bill? What are the odds against the two of us meeting? Of my being ordered, in effect, to meet you? Of you're insulting me and breaking down my anger and resistance and then seducing me with that damned, wonderful Fleur-de-Lis. And your lawyer words.

"Those can't be accidents. No matter what happens afterward. They were meant to happen."

"I don't know that I believe in God. Or destiny. I believe in coincidence, because I'd rather believe that than believe God is a crazed monster who enjoys setting us up for pain, heartbreak, destruction and death."

She pulled away from me and led me by the hand down the Riverwalk away from the yachts. We were alone for a moment, no one walking nearby, under a streetlight. The St. Johns River's black water gleamed in the light and somewhere close something leaped out of the water and plopped back in.

She leaned back against the wooden railing and touched the Fleur-de-Lis pin, moving it so the light of the streetlight glanced off it.

"You and I both know what this means, what it represents. You won my heart with this."

Debbie and my mom and everyone I've ever known have told me that at times I can be a smartass. They're right. I'm not sure where it comes from.

"You are so easy, lady. One pin and-"

She slapped me not too hard on the side of my face and then leaned in to kiss the pain away.

"It's not the pin. It's what it represents, and that is you."

After we tongue wrestled for a minute she broke the lock and took my left hand in hers. She held it up to the light. My wedding ring gleamed so bright it could have been a spotlight.

"Why do you still wear her ring, Bill?"

"It's not her ring. It's my wedding ring. And I don't know why. I...just got used to having it on. Habit."

"It's her ring, Bill and everyone knows it. It's why I know there's still a part of you in love with her. You can't make yourself take it off because as long as it's on there at least a part of her is still with you. And, Bill, don't fool yourself, she knows it too."

"Maybe it looks that way, Aline. But it's not."

"Then take it off. Take it off, Bill, and put it in your pocket or on another finger where it will just be another ring. If you don't still love her."

I reached out with my right and gripped that circle of gold that represented a half of my life and the best times and the worst pain I'd ever known. Then I tugged until it slid off. Losing weight had ended the ordeal it once would have taken to get it off.

I had a gold nugget ring on the next to little finger on my right hand. The little finger wasn't wide enough to hold it. I tried the middle finger. It was a job, but again the weight loss made it possible to slide it on.

I held my left hand up to the light and there was only the groove of pale skin where the ring had been.

"Convinced?"

She reached into her purse and pulled out a gleaming circle. She held it up to the light. It was a silver ring with a square head. On the head was a Fleur-de-Lis inlay of white gold and there was a small, gleaming diamond in the center. It was the sister-ring to the pin she wore.

"You're not the only person who can give presents, Mr. Maitland."

I shook my head for a second.

"If that's real, it's too expensive. You could explain away the pin, but how do you-"

"I have my own money, Bill. Philippe does not pry into my personal spending. And it's real. And it didn't take a fortune to have it made. Will you wear it for me?"

"I will, but why?"

"You remember you said that you hoped I'd think of you when I wore the pin? Well....no matter what happens...I want to think that you will not forget me. And if you're wearing my ring, I know that you won't."

She kissed the naked finger and handed me the Fleur-de-Lis ring. It felt oddly formal as I slipped it on. It went on as if it had been made to go on that finger. It was a moment that meant everything, and yet nothing.

And I took her home and we re-christened the kitchen table, the rug in the living room, the bathtub and finally my bed.

Lying next to her trying to catch my breath, my dick so sore I thought I was going to have to put some vaseline on just to get my pants later in the morning, I said, "Well, that's got to be some kind of personal best for me. I'd have thought what I just did was medically impossible for a 42-year-old male."

With my semen gleaming on her lips and nipples and the reddened vagina that lay between her splayed legs, she looked like a poster child for Porno movies. She smiled and reached out to touch the Fleur-de-Lis ring.

"It's magic, Bill. It's magic."

How the hell do you argue with reality.

But I tried.

"You're the magic."

Of course it wasn't magic. She couldn't get me up a fifth time. But she tried. God damn, but she tried.

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MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 2005 -- 7 p.m.

We sat at a table in The Top Floor restaurant located on the 15th floor of the Barnett Bank Building looking out into the gathering darkness and over the city of Jacksonville. I had promised Aline this view until we were hijacked by my family on our birthday. Now she was going to have it, just before she left, probably forever.

I'd ordered grilled Tilapia, the first step I'd have to take in the penance for the over eating and lack of gym time while Aline had been in town. Aline ordered the restaurant's version of Chicken Breast Coq Au Vin. Probably not what she'd find in a true Parisian eatery, but close enough for Jacksonville.