Also-Ran

"When I saw him, I realized the mistake I'd made. All of the feelings came back. All the love. The longing. I'd missed him. I thought my anger had become hate, but I was wrong. I loved him, and the saying is right: absence had made the heart grow fonder. I--"

I spat out, "Fuck sake, Jeanne! Stop trying to be cute and just tell me why you-- Fuck, if you knew you loved him, why did you marry me?"

Her sigh was deep and filled with regret. "Because I loved you, too! I did want to marry you, I really did. I'm still-- it's still the smartest thing I've ever done; other than bearing our children, the best thing, too. Please believe that, please, please never think that I didn't love you. I do, and I'm so grateful to be your wife.

"As for how I felt about him, I convinced myself that it was a matter of time. I told myself that my love for you would grow. I'd had fifteen years to build a love for him and only three with you. I knew he wouldn't stay, that he had his own life, and--"

There was an angry, dangerous edge to my voice. "So you would have just left me at the altar if he'd snapped his fingers?"

Jeanne sat silently for a time. "I don't know if I would have then. I don't. I'd like to think I wouldn't, but that's with the hindsight of nearly a decade. But... I'm sorry, Scott, I probably would have. If he'd said he was done with his travels and wanted to settle down..." She spread her hands. "I'm sorry. I have no excuse for that. Or for..."

Her eyes closed. "Those next three years were some of the happiest of my life. James had headed off to parts unknown, and you and I settled into married life. There were times I'd think about what could have been, but I tried to not dwell on them. I wanted to be happy in the life I had, with the man, the wonderful man I had."

She shook her head as she looked at me once more. "No. No, I WAS happy. But then he visited. And I knew that it wasn't enough. We weren't enough. That if he-- like you said, if he'd snapped his fingers, I was afraid I'd go with him. It wasn't even lust. I told you, and I was honest, that there was never anything physical between James and I. Not in the whole time you and I have been together. But there was a- a feeling of completeness there. I can't explain it.

"When we sat together, I told him that I wished things could be different. His face was... eager, sort of. But also... I'd known him for a long time, and I knew he was about to tell me he wasn't done traveling yet. But he'd realized he had me, and he was trying to keep me on the hook."

Jeanne's expression turned grim. "That's when you walked in. And I saw your face, and the hurt and jealousy on it. And I compared it with his, the face of a man that saw he could twist me around his finger and reveled in it, and I knew-- I knew what a mistake I was making. I couldn't-- I wouldn't throw away what I had with you over a fantasy."

I snorted. "And yet."

Her voice sounded so subdued when she spoke next. "I wish I'd met you first. Wish I'd grown up with you. You're--" She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "You're so good. I wish... You're everything I should want. I want to want you so much. And I love you. I do."

Coldness filled my voice. "Just never as much as I've deserved." Jeanne's gaze avoided mine, her expression undeniably guilty. "Why did you-- God, why couldn't you have just let me go? Why did you-- If you're telling the truth, if Rachel isn't his and--"

Her eyes locked on mine now, anger burning in them. "She's yours! Both of them are! I have never been unfaithful to you! Not once! I've never--"

"Never been faithful."

"What?"

I regarded her with disdain. "You've never been faithful to me, Jeanne. Not really. 'Forsaking all others.' It doesn't say 'not fucking all others.' When you were staring into the distance, were you forsaking him or me? When you were thinking about how much you wish he could have been the man you wanted, what about then? Do you think you were honoring me? Honoring our vows?

"I'm not even going to ask if you fantasized about him when we were in bed together. We both know the answer now; the question is if you ever didn't fantasize about him. Is that being faithful? Cherishing me?" She didn't answer. I saw in her eyes that she couldn't, not if she had any hope of keeping her husband.

"Why did you trap me in this marriage, Jeanne? Why didn't you just let me go and find someone who could love me like I deserved? I know that this is your fantasy, this domestic goddess thing, just like his was that stupid world traveling author one that got him killed." I chuckled. "How did the bastard go anyways?"

She looked away, tears in her eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, was that indelicate of me? Asking how the love of your life died? How cruel. How thoughtless." A malicious laugh escaped my lips. "God, I hope it was agonizing. I hope he died screaming, and I hope it took a long, long time."

Jeanne couldn't hide her shock, but she didn't lash out. Instead, she pushed through to the original question, the one that hurt less to answer. "I wasn't trying to trap you. I knew that you loved me. I knew that--"

She closed her eyes once more. "I knew you were as devoted to me as I was to him. Maybe moreso. I couldn't have my dream, not all of it. He'd never love me the way I wanted, but I could still have a family with you. With you, specifically you. I wanted to be the wife you deserved, or at least to try to give you that. To be-- even if I couldn't love you the way that I should have, I wanted to try."

"Oh, well that's just fucking great. I've heard of a pity fuck, but a pity marriage? Pity kids? Really?"

She shouted, "What would you have done if I left? Would you have just picked up and moved on? Tried to find someone else? Because let me tell you, no matter how great someone is, no matter how handsome or loving or kind, no matter what a great dad or a great provider or a great fuck they are, it isn't that easy! I couldn't just turn it off! Do you think you could? Honestly?"

"I should have had the option! I'd rather--!" My hands balled into fists. I thought of my children, hoped they'd be the oasis I needed. "You fucking cunt, you did to me what he did to you! You had your goddamned dream, wanting a husband and kids and a home, and when he couldn't be the husband, you found the next best thing you could and strung me along!"

She stood then, palms flat on the table. "It wasn't like that! I thought I could-- I love you! I really do, and I wanted you to be happy, and I knew that you looked at me the way I looked at him! Do you really think that if I'd left you, you'd ever have been that happy again? That you could trust anyone else, really trust them? I'd broken you, because I was weak and stupid and selfish! I'd broken the best fucking man I've ever met, and I couldn't fix him! So I tried to--"

Jeanne lowered her gaze. "I tried to give you a happy life. A lie that was still mostly true. All the love I could give you, even if it wasn't as much as you deserved." She sniffled. "It could never be as much as you deserved, even if I loved you like I'd loved James. But I could give you a happy home. Kids that- that I thought would make us both happy. I had you convinced that you were the only--"

"No. You didn't."

"What?" Her head snapped up.

"I saw you... I suspected, when you'd look off in the distance that..." I sagged in my chair, just so tired. "You've never been as good an actor as you thought. I always suspected. But once we had the kids, what was I going to do? I wasn't going to leave them, and it was just suspicion. Not proof. Not until I came home, and you were sobbing over that worthless shithead that broke your heart."

"No. No, you're just saying that. You're mad and I get that, but if... No. No, please no." She covered her face with her hands. "Oh God, Scott. Oh God!"

I stood. "I wish I'd never fucking met you, Jeanne. Because now I have two kids that I love with you, with a woman that I shouldn't have married. And I'm stuck with you, no matter what I do. I do love you; you're right about that. And maybe you had broken me by the time we had them. Maybe I never would have been able to love or trust again. But now? Now there's no fucking chance of it. So I get to either be alone by myself or alone with you."

As I turned to leave, she said, "Please, Scott, I love you, I really do, I--" But I'd already walked away from the table and to our bedroom. I packed, unwilling to be under the same roof as her, at least not while the kids were away. There was no point; they were the reason I'd stay, if I did.

I weighed my options as I angrily shoved clothes in my suitcase. Rachel and Nate were going to get DNA tests. That was without question. And I was sure there was more to the story, but I was in no mood to hear it then. I had almost flipped the table when she told me about our goddamned sham of a marriage and her purported motives, and I couldn't stand to hear more crushing truths from my "love."

When I came out with my bag, Jeanne begged me to stay, but I couldn't. I had almost a whole week without the kids, and I was going to go somewhere else to get my head clear. It was a Saturday, so I didn't have to worry about work for a couple more days; even then, I had plenty of PTO banked.

But for the moment, I needed someone I could use as a sounding board. Someone who I knew would give me good, mostly unbiased advice, even if I hated it. My brother and his girlfriend were on an archaeological dig for three months, so they were out. I had a couple of college friends still living nearby that might fit the bill, but I already knew where they'd come down and why. Warren was too flighty; adult responsibilities rolled off his back like water off a duck's. Bobby, while a pretty cool, solid guy overall, was so hapless when it came to his love life it hurt. That left one choice.

"Scott!" Henry's jovial voice lifted my spirits, as did the huge bearhug he pulled me into. He was a big beast of a man, barrel chested with hands the size of catcher's mitts, but he also possessed one of the keenest minds I'd ever known. Of all my friends, he was easily the best bet for good, well-reasoned advice. Plus, he had a spare room.

We sat in his living room and had a couple of beers, just catching up at first. He was a professor, never married, but popular with the ladies. Henry had been in love before--even almost married once--but his heart belonged to academia. He had chased tenure and been unwilling to move when his long-time girlfriend's career took her elsewhere. At first, he seemed confused as to why I'd want his advice on a marital dispute, but as I explained the situation, that of conflicting loves and missed opportunities, he nodded with understanding.

Henry smoked a pipe, because of course he did. He loved the affectations of professorship almost as much as the job itself. Puffing on it thoughtfully, he asked, "So, do you believe her assertion that she's never been physically unfaithful?"

"I don't know. I suppose... in some ways, if she had just fucked him, that would be easier. If it was a long-standing affair, I'd kick her to the curb. If it was a stupid one-off where she was drunk or angry or just made a bad choice... well, maybe we'd still have a chance. But this..."

I shrugged. "For now, let's work off the assumption that it's true. If it's not, especially if the kids are his and not mine, I know exactly what I'll do. But if it's just..." The laugh slipped out unintentionally. "'Just.' Oh, it's 'just' that my wife has always wanted to be married to someone else. It's 'just' that my whole marriage has been a lie."

He quirked one furry eyebrow up. "Has it?"

"What? If she loved someone else the whole time, of course it has."

Henry tilted his head to one side. "Let's say the circumstances had been a little different. What if you had married a widow, someone who pined for a person who could never return, but wanted to move forward with her life? What if you knew you were going to be second best to a dead man?"

"Then I would have known that. If I knew that I was always going to be an also-ran to James, or to a dead man, for that matter, I wouldn't have married her."

"And if you didn't know? If she hid it from you until she couldn't, but the man was never actually a threat to your marriage? What then?"

I took a sip and thought. "That's different, though, isn't it? You're talking about a widow, someone who was married to a person that had committed to them, and then they lost that person. This is... she spent our marriage wanting a man who had outright rejected her. And then, failing to get him, she settled for me."

"Hmm." He clicked his tongue. "Admittedly, not the same. But it's not that different, either. If he had married her, then enlisted and gone to war, that would count, don't you think? If he rejected his wife's concerns for his safety and embraced duty instead? Jeanne and James may never have gotten married, but according to you, her family thought that was all but predestined."

"It doesn't matter! He wasn't dead. She wasn't a widow. She was pining for a guy that was still out there, who could have easily taken her away if he wanted to."

Henry raised his hand. "No, no, that was quite terrible of her. I don't disagree at all. She shouldn't have put herself or you in that position, knowing what she knows now. But, if what she said was true, that she loved you and hoped that love could grow to eclipse the love she had for him..." He puffed on his pipe. "If you give Jeanne the benefit of the doubt, that she made bad bets on the future, wagering that she could grow to love you the way you both agree she should have, what then?"

"What do you mean?"

"She bet wrong. It never happened. But she does love you, and the man who was a threat to your marriage is gone. You have children together. Is a love that's not what it should be enough? There have been many happy marriages where the love between two people is not... mmmm, let's say, 'equivalent.' You have shared history, and--"

My simmering fury boiled over. "Shared history that she wished she was sharing with someone else, Hank! This isn't some political marriage where we both went into it for convenience's sake. I loved her with my whole heart! But she..." With a sigh, I slumped back in the chair. "She went in only pretending to do the same. That makes it all..." The words escaped me.

"'Fruit of the poisoned tree?'"

I snapped my fingers. "Yes! That's it exactly. It's... it's tainted everything that's come after."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "Even the kids?"

With a sigh, I admitted, "No. No, not the kids. I love them. But now I'm stuck with her because of them. I wouldn't trade them, but even now, even if I leave her..." Shaking my head, I muttered, "I'm always going to know that she had them with me for her own fucked up reasons, not because she loved me. Even if it's partially because she did love me, it's all mixed in with her guilt over what she'd done to me by marrying me in the first place. Or because she wanted to have kids, and I was the man she married. Not because..." My hand clenched hard around the bottle.

In a quiet, nonjudgmental tone, he asked, "If you didn't have the kids, what would you do? Would you leave her? Or is she right, and you love her too much to let her go?"

"I don't know. I probably would leave, but I don't know if that's pride talking or..." I rubbed my temples. None of this was making things clearer. "She's been a good wife, at least outwardly. I'd suspected she was still infatuated with him, but I didn't know how deep it went until now. And if I'd only ever suspected, and he never returned, I would have had no reason to leave. But now..." I spread my hands. "I just don't know. That's why I needed to talk with you."

"Hrm. Quite." Another puff on the pipe. "Let's approach it from a different point of view. Let's say that you do split up with Jeanne, and you eventually find someone else. They fall for you, and you care for them. Maybe even love them. However, you realize you're never going to love them as much as Jeanne. What do you do?"

"Jesus, Hank, I don't know. I guess... Shit, if she loved me, I'd let her know I was still hung up on my ex, and that I loved her, but I was still going to be for a while and let her decide what she wanted to do."

He gave me a Look. "Is that what you know you should do, or actually what you would do? Or is it what you'd only do now that you know how it feels to be on the wrong end of the equation?"

"Fuck you." I couldn't keep the laugh out of my voice. "You know, you're supposed to be making this easier, not harder."

"I am, at my own pace." His chuckle was a deep bass rumble. "But I like to hear myself talk, too."

"Obviously."

Ignoring the jab, he continued. "Something else to consider is how this will affect Nathan and Rachel. Can you fool them into believing everything is fine? You had no real complaints with Jeanne before this revelation. She's kept up her charade for a long time, at least partially because--according to her--it isn't entirely a charade. Can you do the same? Consider, especially, that Jeanne is likely to be more... affectionate, both emotionally and physically. More wifely, for lack of a better term, than she was before. Between that and your own lingering affection, can you hide the hurt well enough for your kids?"

I mulled that over, then slowly spoke. "Probably. I'm pissed at her right now, and I'll probably stay that way for some time. I'm heartbroken, and I don't know if that's ever going to change. But I can probably keep it up until they're in college at least."

"Then you are presented with a handful of possibilities. You can choose to stay with her and do your best to ignore what you know now. You can divorce her and hope you find someone who can replace her, which I think we both know is unlikely. Or you can break up with her and stay single. Each of those will also affect your children in different ways."

"And what's your suggestion, professor?"

He laughed. "Oh no, you're not putting it on me."

"Okay, if you were in my shoes?"

Henry shrugged, his expression bittersweet. "I made my choice and pursued my passion a long time ago. I've regretted it sometimes, although never so much that I wished I'd done things differently. However, I'm not you."

We talked late into the evening, but not so much about my situation anymore. He and I caught up a bit, watched some football, and gossiped about our old classmates. It felt good, an island of normal human interaction in the midst of the tempest. When I went to bed that night, I actually slept well, which surprised me. I was even more surprised when I woke the next morning with a clear head and a direction in mind.

"Homeward bound?" Hank chuckled from behind me as I packed the next morning. "Or leaving for new horizons?"

"Heading home. Well, home for now, I suppose."

"For good, or just for now?"

I zipped the suitcase up. "It depends on what Jeanne has to say about some things. Probably not 'for good,' regardless. For a while, probably, 'til Nate goes to college in... God, twelve years or so? I can't spend twelve years being a part-time dad." I felt a little lump in my throat. "So much of this is... it's all so hard."

He put one massive paw on my shoulder. "Steady on, Scott. For what it's worth, I think you're making the right decision. You're a good man, and you're raising good kids. You and Jeanne are both great parents, no matter how angry you might be with her."

I nodded, then he wrapped me up in one more of those giant-sized hugs before hefting my suitcase and walking me to my car. I waved as I drove away, but my thoughts turned towards home. Towards home, and towards my wife. Towards the woman I loved.

That was the real bitch of things. I still loved Jeanne. She was right that if I left her, I'd be unlikely to ever find someone I'd love half as much. And after this, I was equally uncertain I'd ever be able to trust her again. Still, I needed to ascertain a few things before I committed to the plan I'd devised after talking with Henry.