Alana and Blake

"Alana's smart in some ways, but not in others. When it comes to sex, she's a moron," said Gary, with finality.

"Yeah, well that's the problem, ain't it?" I said. "My problem is, how do I fix it? And, do I even want to now she's fucked me over?" I said.

"Anyway, I think it's time for a drink. Whaddya say," I said. "There's a bar next door."

******

The two men were seated at the bar. When they came in.

"Jesus," said Gary.

"Huh?" I said.

"Blake, buddy," said Gary, holding his friends gaze. "I want you to look me right in the eyes. What do you see there?"

"Huh? What are you talking about," I said.

"Blake, take a deep breath and be cool. Your wife just walked in with her boyfriend," Said Gary. He grabbed my arm making it difficult for me to swivel around. But straining, I looked over my shoulder and saw her. Her and her lover boy. She didn't see me right away, and then she did.

Alana's hand shot up and covered her mouth. Even so, I could make out the words she was mouthing behind it: "Oh my God, no!" she silently cried.

The asshole looked where she was looking and a smile crept over his face. My face, on the other hand, darkened. I stared with dead eyes at them. Alana reached out toward me with her arm. I sneered.

"Fuck you," I said so softly that she had to read my lips to understand me. Then I looked over at him and pointed at him. He just spread his feet and crossed his arms in an I dare you' pose that almost got him killed; he just didn't know it.

Gary was looking down at the floor. I was a mix of emotions. I was humiliated. The boyfriend was may six-foot and I was five six; my wife was considerably taller than me especially in high heels; she was wearing heels now. The picture was not flattering to me. The one thing I was sure of was, that after his legs were broken, mister Gordon Ten Inch was going to be a lot closer to the ground than was the case at the moment.

Gary saw it coming and grabbed me hard and tight. "No," he said. "The motherfucker is going to jail. Bide your time," said Gary. I looked at him. The wisdom of his words finally registering. I nodded. I pointed to the asshole again. He just smirked. Oh, how I wanted him right then. Instead I had to slink out like a cur dog with my tail between my legs. God it was embarrassing, humiliating.

Alana had watched the tableau and I thought she might have been crying. But, at that moment, I hated the mother of my children, and that scared me. I was very close to killing them both. And while the asshole didn't realize it, I think my wife did.

I walked out of the bar without looking back. Getting to my car, I fumbled with my keys; I dropped them. Leaning down to pick them up, I heard her.

"Blake, my God I'm sorry," she said. "I am so sorry. But, Blake were weren't doing anything, nor were we going to. He was just buying me a drink because I was so upset and sad about you leaving."

I turned and looked at her. "You kicked my ass out," I said. "So what's your problem."

"I did not," she said. "Well, I did, but I took it back. I apologized for being too—too—something."

"Try cruel and unyielding," I said.

"Blake! I want to make it up to you. I owe you," she said.

Her words filled me with so much anger I could barely contain myself. "You let me fuck you. Consider the debt paid," I said. "And, hell, I would have saved you even without payment. So just go fuck yourself, or let your fuck buddy do it for you," I said.

I was breaking down. My voice was cracking. Then the worst moment of my life occurred; I started sobbing without restraint. My chest heaved, my heart broke, the dam burst. All of it gushed forth wordless and wet. She came to me and put her arms around me. For a moment I felt safe and loved. Then, what and who was happening to me came back to me. I shrugged her off, violently. She stumbled backwards. "Get away from me," I said, between sobs. If I had not been humiliated before, I was now.

I heard her cry out as I got into the car and drove off, "Blake, I love you. Come home to me."

Gary as it turned out had kept lover boy pinned down inside while Alana and I played out our scene. Just as my car pulled out of the lot lover boy made his appearance. Gary was right on his heels.

"Get the fuck out of my way butthead," said Gordon to Gary.

Now, Gary is not a small man like me. He's maybe five-ten and one-seventy-five. Again, not small, but not as big as lover boy. But he held his temper. "You have no idea how close you came to leaving this veil of tears fuckwad. You really ought to memorize the Act of Contrition for future reference," said Gary.

Alana had a thought. She knew Gary well. He was always at our family do's and so was his wife. She came over to him.

"Gary, please, I fucked up. Tell him I love him. He won't listen to me. Tell him at the very least he must come home to see his babies," she said.

"I'll tell him," said Gary. "But you better get asshole there out of town. Blake is real angry. And, thanks to you, he's also hurt, Alana. Hurt real bad."

"You tell that wimp..." Gordon started to say. Gary reached back and slapped him so hard that Gordon spun around and nearly fell to the ground, barely righting himself at the last second.

"Say anything about my bud again, and you're going to make me disappoint him," said Gary.

"Huh?" said the asshole.

"Yeah, because I'm going to kill you myself." Gary turned and left to call a cab for himself since his ride had cut country.

******

I got a visit from a slightly miffed Gary that very afternoon. I'd forgotten that he had no car. I'd abandoned him there to face the "adultery is us" club by his lonesome. I apologized; I wasn't thinking, not good anyway. I chuckled at the story of him handling good 'ole Gordon. But, on the more serious side, Alana had made her point too. I did have to see the babies. If it meant showing up like some wimp cuck boy without choices, then so be it. Sooner or later I knew I'd have to come to terms with my wife. It looked like it was going to be sooner.

I arrived at the house the next day at five o'clock.

******

"Daddy daddy daddy!" screamed the kids. We hugged, and I cried, and they smiled, and then we talked. We talked about school and their friends and everything. And then they pinned me.

"Daddy come home to us," said Shelby. "Momma wants you too; she said so." I started to cry again, but I choked it off. Jesus I was becoming such a pussy.

"Uhhuh," said Miranda, "it's true, daddy."

Alana came into the room for the first time. She'd left us alone to that point, but whether she'd planned it or not, this was the point at which she made her entrance, and I had to believe she'd thought it out and engineered it to be to her best advantage and purpose.

"Daddy is coming home to us, kids, starting tonight," she pronounced. "We all want you back, Blake. The kids and especially me."

I looked at her. She could read my thoughts of that there was no doubt. "Blake, I'm sorry for everything. Please don't disappoint us. We need and love you. We do," she said. Her tone was sincere; her actions the previous day and before were however not indicative of sincerity, not the right kind at any rate.

I bit the bullet and nodded. The babies were my reason. How long I'd stay was iffy. Probably till the next mistake on my wife's part. Okay, I wimped out. But any daddy in the situation I was in knows what I was feeling even if they wouldn't agree with my actions.

Alana and I would be talking it over in less than two hours.

******

"I talked to the kids before you came, Blake. I want you to know that. We kinda sandbagged you, but in a good way. I made sure they let you know how much they wanted you back and in their lives. I mean actively in their lives," she said.

"As for me, it's all I've been thinking about since you left," she said.

"Hmm, and that little scene at the lounge. You weren't out with your fuck buddy to—well fuck?" I said.

"No, I wasn't and he knew it. I'd been depressed since you left. I needed a drink, a lot of them truth told. He came by and invited me out for that reason. Then, of all of the places we might have ended up—well you can imagine my surprise. It was doubtless not a lot unlike yours," she said.

I smirked, "I guess not," I said finally. "So here we are, and where exactly is that. I still can't get my head around what you're doing. I still am not going to tolerate it. I can't. I know what I said when we first got engaged, but that was then and this is now. So, is good 'ole Gordon your man or I am; you can't have me and him too, not at all. Are you getting that?"

"I'm getting it. But I have a question for you, if I may," she said. "What is sex to you? Does it define us? Does it define our marriage?"

I thought for a second. "For me it is the sharing of the most intimate and secret of things that are us. It is a means by which we create our babies. It is a very important way that I show my love for you, my wife." I rested my case.

She nodded. "It is those things for me too, Blake," she said. "But those things all of them are part of the commitment that I give to you and only to you. Take away that commitment and its permanence, and sex becomes that thing we did when we were teenagers and a million miles from anything really important. It becomes merely a game that kids play, a little more intimate and serious, but still only a game. The boys have a name for the game, it's called 'Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am.' You've played it Blake; you've told me you have."

"Yes, that's true. All you say is true. But there is one little thing you left out, Alana. You forgot to mention anything about the sanctity of wedding vows. Keeping those for me ends the games. It initiates a relationship of trust and true love—not puppy love or any games or any of it. It comes with something else that teenagers don't have much of—responsibility," I said.

"So, I have a question for you, now. Is that okay?" I said.

"Yes. Ask away?" she said.

"Where does my coming home now leave Gordon? Is he or any other man going to be screwing my woman?" I said.

The question came at an inopportune time in the conversation. She wasn't ready for it. "He's—I guess he's history," she said.

"Does he know that? Am I going to be walking in on phone calls? Am I going to be driving by a motel sometime and notice your car parked next to his? Do not lie to me, Alana, and tell me now," I said.

"Honestly, we haven't talked since yesterday at the Pine Tree, so no he doesn't know that. I told him then that we'd have to cool it for a while. I knew you were hurt, and I knew my job would be to salve that hurt.

"And, yes I know what you're going to say. Cooling it for a while is not making him history. Well, that was then and this is now as you say. I am not giving you up. So as of this moment he's history," she said.

She surprised me. She got up and went into the kitchen. She came back with the carry-phone. She dialed.

"Yeah, it's me," she said. Whoever was on the other end was speaking. "No, and never again. My man is home. He's sitting across the room from me right now...no not ever...umhuh...you'll have to find yourself a wife...he does not understand our relationship and no he's not going to try...no don't call anymore...please...please...respect my wishes in this...it's over...Yeah you too," she hung up.

"Another question. Given that good 'ole Gordon is history, what about other men? One night stands? Quickies in a bar, any of it?" I said.

"I'm gonna say never again, Blake. And, I'm gonna try. But, you have to help me. I'm a habitual, a born slut. You are really going to have to help me..." She had more to say but she was finding it hard. In my heart of hearts I knew she couldn't keep her resolve. Oh, I was sure she meant to, but I was almost certain it was beyond her. Well, for now it was going to be one for the kids.

******

I was at work the day after our sit down and my move back into the house. On the weekend, Saturday, Mark and Gary both came by with their wives and kids and we had a barbecue. It was a good time.

Nothing more was heard from good 'ole Gordon. Alana quit her job at the art shop and took a full time job at an art supply house. The hourly pay was better too. I was feeling pretty good, safer. Every once in a while I thought I detected a wistful look from Alana, but I was also willing to admit to a certain touch of paranoia, so maybe not.

I was having lunch about a mile from work at the behest of my pard at the shop, Roger Cord. The restaurant was one of those that had almost black windows the kind you usually see on cars. You can see out, but not in. We were seated next to the window. We were about half done eating when a beautiful woman walked down the sidewalk and was met by a man immediately outside the window from our booth. Had the window not been there we could have reached out and touched them. They embraced and kissed.

The woman was tall and athletic, maybe mid-thirties. The man was very tall, I'd guess six-six and maybe two-eighty. Looked like he could have been a defensive end for somebody. I smiled.

"She sure is a looker," said. Roger. "I wouldn't mind getting a piece of that."

I smiled. "Want me to fix you up," I said.

He laughed. "You know her?"

"Yeah, I do," I said. "She's my wife. She'll do anybody. We'll be divorced soon, so if you want I'll ask her for you."

Roger spewed a swallow of coke all over the table. "Jesus, Blake! That's not funny."

"Maybe not, but it is my wife," I said. I was facing the entrance when the couple entered. They were halfway to our table when she saw me. She also saw that I'd had a clear view of what had happened on the sidewalk outside.

"Oh my God! Blake!"

"Yeah, it's me," I said. "You and I have to stop meeting this way." The man gave me a menacing look. He was twice my size--literally, and his contempt for me was palpable.

"You know this shrimp?" he said turning to Alana. She just looked horror stricken. I got up from the booth. Threw a twenty down and started to walk out. The big guy grabbed me by the arm. I guess he wanted to impress his date.

I turned and rolled his arm under my arm and snapped it. I broke it at the elbow. He dropped screaming to the floor. I turned to Alana.

"You always date these big guys. Ain't I big enough for you? Hell, I guess not," I said, answering my own question.

"Blake, we've got to talk. It's not what you think..." We could hear sirens in the distance. The place was crawling with cops before I could even get out the door.

They cuffed me, but after interviewing a few witnesses, including Roger, they let me go. A paramedic unit attended to son of Kong, and we left. Alana shadowed me all the way to my truck.

"Blake, we have to talk. It's not what you're thinking," she said. I couldn't believe she'd actually said that. For the moment I was amused. Later I would undoubtedly break down, but for the moment the humor of the situation was dominant.

"And the scene of the sidewalk?" I said. She just stared and said nothing. Roger and I left.

******

I moved out as soon as I got home that evening. Alana didn't fight me. I guess she knew that the jig was up. She couldn't or wouldn't end her habits, and I definitely would not put up with it anymore.

I was amused when she told me that the guy I'd dropped had been coming on to her at the supermarket off and on for weeks. But she had always put him off. Finally, on the one day that I'd decided to have lunch away from work; she had decided to let him fuck her. They were heading for a motel right after lunch. That they'd decided to have lunch where I was having lunch was a fluke. Some god was either looking after me or mad at her; neither of us was sure which, but the marriage was over.

"You hurt him pretty bad," said Alana.

"He was too big to play with. I had to drop him," I said. "His bad luck."

"Well, he'll be eating left handed for a while," she said.

"Blake I'm sorry. I am who I am, and I guess I always will be. All I can say is I'm sorry. I won't fight the divorce. And we'll share the kids," she said.

I just nodded. I was mad and relieved and sad and everything. It had been a long road, and we'd reached its end.

I did talk to the children. Said I needed to get a place of my own, and that they would be able to visit anytime and all of the time. They didn't like it, but they gave me tacit approval when I told them I was going to take them to the movies on Saturday and be doing other stuff every week.

This time I met Gary and Mark and Roger, my bud from work, at the Pine Tree. It had become kinda our place to hang out. I kept looking at the door half expecting to see Alana and some new man or maybe even Gordon come through it. But this time it was not happening.

A week after I moved out Gordon was arrested. I'd almost forgotten about good 'ole Gordy. But he ate the weenie big time. If he was shocked, Alana was even more so. She attended his trial and kinda held his spear as he went down for a nickel.

I learned later that she visited him in jail. It was a maudlin scene. I think that they were actually falling in love with each other. All of that stuff she'd handed me about him not meaning anything to her went by the boards, I guess. Maybe she needed someone who understood her—special—needs. Someone like her. I suppose the good news was that she didn't blame me. She knew I'd engineered it, but I wasn't the one who was selling stolen goods. They'd actually caught him putting goods in the back of some guy's pickup.

******

Our divorce was peaceful and final in six months: irreconcilable differences. The kids stayed at the house with Alana. I did get her absolute promise that no man would ever cross that threshold. And I was there every Saturday to see my babies.

"Alana, I will keep to this divorce agreement honorably. You will get the child support you need, and when you need to be out you can count on me to babysit. But no man who is not your husband may ever come into the house. Agreed?"

"I'd already made that same decision," said Alana. "You don't have to worry about that."

"You saw what happened to Gordon, and to that guy at the restaurant. Keep it in mind," I said. "I'll know if you get squirrely on me."

******

Well it was inevitable. Even an idiot like me can get lucky once in a blue moon. And I did, about a year after the divorce. Her name was Kelly Halverson. She worked at the novelty shop next to the Pine Tree, I'd gone in to get a gift for Mark's wife; it was her birthday.

"Will that be all sir?" said the saleslady.

"Your phone number would be nice," I said, rolling closed the top of the bag with my gift in it.

She looked at me strangely, "555 1296," she said. "But, you'd have thought you'd want my name first." She said.

"Got that," I said, "it's on your name plate: Kelly Halverson."

"Oh, I forgot that," she said. "Yours?"

"Blake," I said. "Blake Ritter."

I called her that night. I had reservations in calling her. I was still connected in some pretty serious ways to Alana; divorced but I still had feelings for her, and there were our mutual children. Problem was Alana was connected in a lot of places with a lot of guys, and I couldn't deal with that, so Kelly would get her shot, as I told myself.

I picked her up after her workday and we went to eat. It was supposed to be a get to know you feed. And it was. Maybe I should tell you a little about Kelly.

She was thirty-two; about my height, maybe five-six or seven; a tad overweight for her slim frame; shoulder length brown hair; and a somewhat homely face. All in all, if there is such a thing as an average woman, Kelly was it. But, what she didn't have in terms of classic beauty, she more than made up for in personality. God this woman was interesting. Working her way through nursing school, carrying a full time job, and dating rarely; this was my kind of woman.