Best Gift ... Last Gift

"And it was truly wonderful. He wasn't better than you, and only a little bigger, but he was the first different man that I had sex with since we started going steady 42 years ago. And because I knew it was wrong, that only added to the mix ... and ... afterwards he was a complete gentleman. We did it more forcefully than you and I do, and I enjoyed it. Then a few hours later we did it slow and gentle ... we made love ... and that was wonderful, too. But it was too close friends enjoying each other's bodies. I didn't love him and he didn't love me, but yes, we did have some sort of a connection. And then we cuddled up, like you and I do ..."

"Did!" I interrupted.

"Mr. English!" scolded Dr. Swearingham.

"We're friends, good friends, and I didn't feel guilty like I thought I was going to.

"So when you didn't notice ... I thought that as long as I didn't take anything away from you we could continue to see each other ... as friends and lovers. And if you didn't come home early, you still wouldn't know and would still love me with all of your heart, and we wouldn't be here right now.

"I didn't take anything from you. Can't we just pretend Sunday night never happened and go back to what we had. Is this just about your ego?"

"And there it is!" I exploded. "It's all about me and my fragile ego. Never mind that you've been cheating on me for more than five years!"

"Well, that's close to the end of our time for today anyway, Mr. English," Dr. Swearingham said. "But I will have to report that you weren't exactly cooperative today."

"I didn't shoot her today, did I?" I asked in my best sarcastic tone.

"Sarcasm is not your friend in here, Mr. English," the counselor added.

I was pretty pissed when I left the counselor's office. Traci tried to engage me in conversation as we got to the parking lot, but I needed to be alone ... with a responsive machine around me. I got into my Probe, found some highway and drove east to the Indiana border. A couple of hours later, I hit a rest stop, put some gas in the beast, put my right foot down and drove home. This is what my life had turned into. The only positive stimulation I was getting was from behind the wheel of a 16-year-old piece of metal.

We each had a solo session with the counselor before our next session as a couple. I have no idea what she and Traci talked about because I didn't ask and she probably wouldn't have said, but I was baffled where Dr. Swearingham seemed to be heading with me. I got the feeling she was trying very hard to soften me up into forgiving Traci, and at the same time she kept driving home the point that if I didn't I would spend my old age ... alone.

"That's where I am right now, Doc. Even when she's in the room with me ... I'm alone. I used to look at us as 'we', with me being half of that. But she's cut me adrift. There's no 'we' anymore. It's her and me ... separate entities.

"Somewhere she's lost us and she's the only one that counts. It's all about her. Then she's got me ... and she's got Ralph. I can't live with that scenario," I said.

"But she says she loves only you," Dr. Swearingham noted. "The thing with Ralph was not about love. It's just physical, she says."

"Really, Doc? 'Et tu, Brute?' You're supposed to be a trained therapist and counselor. You can't see through what's going on?"

"Well, Mr. English, why don't you enlighten me with what you think is going on, so I can figure out exactly how you see this," she said.

"Can I speak plain since it's just us, or do I have to talk nice. I'm willing to give you me, if you let me give you me unfiltered."

"By all means, Mr. English, the floor is yours."

"To start with, I do believe Traci loves me, just not as much as she used to, otherwise she could never even have considered jumping into bed with another man. And call me old-fashioned, but I don't go for any of this 'it's just sex bullshit.' She does have some feelings for this guy. She admits to being 'very close friends,' which I think translates into some feelings for him. Again, I don't believe if your totally committed, you have feelings for someone else."

I was watching the doc's eyes as I was talking, so she tried to keep her face as neutral as possible. Still, I saw her flinch a couple of times.

"Tell me, Doc, when your wife has sex with another man in your own bed, how much respect is that showing you?

"And if we're talking about love and respect, how about the fact that she's been sleeping with this guy for more than five years? Once or twice ... even a few times could be a lust-crazed fling. Five years? Does she think I'm a fucking idiot? Even if it is 'just sex,' how do I ignore or forgive five years worth of her fucking around on me? FIVE YEARS!

"But everybody seems hung up on the fact that because we're old, I should forgive her and move on. What a shame it would be for both of us to be alone in our final years. I'm already alone! She left me when she chose to fuck him. It doesn't make one bit of difference to me if I live by myself in an apartment or in a different room in our house. I'M ALONE!

"And one more thing, Doc. She's told me she's sorry she hurt me, and she's definitely sorry I found out, but she's never told me she's sorry she did it. She enjoyed the attention of another man and jumped into bed with him, and she's not even sorry. Did she ever tell you she was sorry?"

I had gotten out of my chair and was pacing while I finished my soliloquy of sorts. I fell back into my chair when I was done. I was suddenly exhausted.

"Those are all good points, Mr. English. We will have to address them when all three of us next meet."

"Yeah, right," I said offhandedly.

I got up from my chair and left.

I like to think I'm a fairly sharp guy, but this whole episode proved to me that I am way too trusting for my own good. I never saw the ambush coming the next week when Traci and I met with Dr. Swearingham.

"So this week I want to talk about ways to resolve this stand-off," Dr. Swearingham began as my head began to swim. "Traci, we'll do ladies first."

"Dr. Swearingham, you know I don't want a divorce. I think Andy and I can work through this and eventually get back to where we were, and ride off into the sunset together. I know I hurt him, and I just now realized that while I apologized for hurting him, I never expressed remorse for cheating on him, and I think that's hurt him as well. Andy, please ... please ... I'm sorry for what I did. Let's not end it like this after all these years. You're a better man that that."

I took a sideways look at the doc as Traci was apologizing. She definitely had a smirk on her face which left the minute I turned my head in her direction.

The silence was deafening in my head. It was a good thing my parents taught me to never hit a girl, or I would have slapped both of them ... hard.

"The fact that you were fucking him for more than five years tells me you're not sorry," I said as Dr. Swearingham started to protest my language. "Sorry I fucked him once or twice, maybe. Sorry I was a drunken idiot and forget my vows like a slut maybe. But not I've been fucking this guy for more than five years and now I'm finally sorry. Doesn't work for me."

Traci looked more than dismayed at my answer. The doc looked shocked, and was scribbling furiously. I was probably going to get a "time-out" for my attitude, but the beast was unleashed.

"We've been apart for what, two months now," I asked Traci without expecting and waiting for an answer. "How many times have you fucked him since I left?"

Traci's face flamed bright red. Her lips were moving, but no sound was coming out of her mouth. The doc's face was bright red as well. I wasn't sure if that was because she was embarrassed by the non-answer, or the fact that I was perceptive enough to ask the question. For a brief moment I was actually proud of myself.

"At least have you been sorry enough not to have done it anymore in what used to be our bed?"

Traci didn't answer as she suddenly became interested in the texture of the carpet.

I stood up and looked the doc square in the face. She squirmed in her chair.

"I'm not smart enough to know if what you did today is some sort of ethical violation, but I'm betting it was not exactly kosher. I'm thinking I'm done with these sessions, and you're going to inform the judge that you don't think additional counseling will make a difference. Am I clear?"

She sat there with her mouth wide open as I stood up to leave.

"So that's it!" Traci yelled at me. "Thirty-nine years thrown away just like that? I never took you for a mean, spiteful man. I guess I was holding you up on too high a pedestal!"

"And I never took you for a common, lying slut. Imagine that. My mistake," I said quietly as I left.

It had been six years or so since I had been back in Normal when I pulled into the parking lot of the funeral home. Calling wouldn't begin for another hour, but my daughter had asked me to come early so we could meet alone in private before other people started showing up. She and my son-in-law, Ron, had the unenviable task of doing the planning, as requested by my ex-wife. They had gotten into Normal two days ago from DC.

Allison had asked me if I wanted to help with the arrangements, or if I wanted to say anything at the service or the meal after the funeral. Despite what happened, Traci and I were happily married for more than 30 years, Allison pointed out, and I probably knew her better than anyone. While that might have been true, I hadn't spoken more than a few dozen sentences to her in the eight years since the divorce ... on one of the few occasions when she had been at the kids' house visiting and I happened to call, and she picked up the phone. I hadn't had a real conversation with her since the last meeting with Dr. Swearingham. There was nothing left to say, I felt.

Allison spotted my car pulling up and was out the front door of the funeral home in a flash, with Ron and my grandson trailing behind. It had been a few months since I had last been to their house, but anytime we met Allison always came running with a big hug for me. She didn't disappoint this time either, practically jumping into my arms like a 15-year-old, instead of the 47-year-old she was in reality. I took a step back when she landed on me, not being quite as spry at 71 as I would have liked.

I hugged her back hard, then kissed her cheek and set her back on the ground.

"Allie, meet Kay, my travelling companion," I said as I introduced the attractive woman who was just two years older than my daughter and had gotten out of the passenger side of the car. "Kay was gracious enough to make the 15-hour trek up I-55 with me. We stopped about a half-hour ago to get presentable after being in the car for six hours today up until that point.

My daughter and son-in-law looked at me with shock on their faces.

"You drove eight hours yesterday? At your age?" Allison questioned.

"And he wouldn't let me drive a mile of it," Kay said. "You know your dad as well as anyone, I suppose, so you know that he doesn't let anyone drive his Probe."

"I actually drove it before he did," Ron said, "when I checked it our for Mom ... before she bought it for him ..."

Realizing what he said, Ron's voice just sort of faded off. I knew he felt bad, so I jumped in to make it less awkward.

"Turns out it was the last gift she ever bought me ... and if she hadn't bought if for me I never would have caught her cheating on me. So it was both a blessing and a curse, at least for me. I guess she always looked at it as a curse."

"She maintained up until the end that she loved you, Daddy," Allison said. "But she was bitter that you 'threw her away,' as she put it. I just don't have any clue as to what she was thinking.

"She continued her relationship with the guy for three more years, until he got transferred to Colorado. He didn't ask her to go with him. She was bitter at him, too; blamed him for you two splitting, I think. To the day she died, I don't think it ever occurred to her that she was the instrument that caused this downfall."

I didn't stand with Allison and Ron and the kids at the front of the funeral home for calling. I didn't feel it was my place. What we had together once was a long time ago. Kay and I sat in the back row for the service. The pastor did a very nice job memorializing Traci. There were quite a few tears shed, but none by me. I had done all of my crying for Traci a long time ago.

We headed back to Traci's house -- our old house together -- after we finally left the funeral home. I had seen a lot of old friends that I hadn't seen in years, and they all expressed condolences to me. Kay stayed by my side the entire time, sometimes holding my hand when it looked to her like I might need a little bolstering.

Allison let us in to the house and it was like going into a time warp. It looked exactly the way I remembered it. I don't think Traci had changed anything.

Allison saw the look of surprise that I'm sure was on my face.

"She didn't change a thing after you left, just in case you changed your mind and came back. In fact, she never even changed the locks, hoping someday you'd come back. If you still had your key, I'm sure it would still work," Allison noted.

"Nah, the only key I've still got from those days is for the Probe," I said as I fished the trophy out of my pocket and held it up for all to see.

Allison made coffee and since I knew where everything was, I got out the cups and saucers for the six of us.

While she and I were maneuvering in the kitchen, she leaned in close to me and said in a stage whisper, "You know some people thought you bringing a younger date to Mom's funeral was rude and tacky. I've got to admit, I didn't tell them they were wrong."

I raised my eyebrows and nodded as Allison poured. Everyone sat down at the kitchen table with their cups of coffee. I held the floor.

"As I told you before, Kay is my travelling companion. She is not a date. She has been a friend for several years in Houston, and knowing that I had a long and potentially stressful drive ahead of me, she volunteered to make the drive with me," I explained.

"But ... at the expense of giving too much information, particularly in front of the grandkid, I guess it would be more accurate to call her a 'friend with benefits.' One of several friends of that persuasion."

The grandson snickered. Allison and Ron looked at each other with more than a little surprise on their faces.

"Kay is the president of the Quattro Queens Bridge Club, of which I am an ex-officio member. I met Kay first, about eight years ago, and we became really good friends ... and playmates of a sort. But Kay is a very sharing woman, and gradually introduced me to several of her closest single friends, the other three members of the bridge club. The ladies range in age from 52 to 60, and when one of them needs an escort for an evening ... or just some mail companionship, shall we say, well, they just call and I help out.

I know I was started to blush from embarrassment, and at that point Kay picked up the narrative.

"At our ages, good single guys like your father are hard to come by, so the four of us -- actually the five of us -- came to this agreement. It would just be among ourselves, so we were guaranteed to be disease-free, and there was to be no jealousy. Also, there was to be no more than just two playing at a time. We don't want to kill your dad off."

Allie and Ron still look befuddled.

"Your dad is in remarkable shape for his age, love, and well, nowadays they make little blue pills to help with things. And really, a man's tongue never wears out, does it?"

The light bulb of recognition practically lit up above Allison and Ron. The grandson thought this whole discussion was hysterical.

"Everybody, myself included, figured I was going to be a lonely, bitter man for the rest of my life," I added. "All things considered, I guess things turned out pretty good for this old man."