Buyer's Remorse Pt. 02

I was feeling very smug as I left my wedding ring on top of the Bible and threw my suitcases into the trunk of the car. I was getting away, going towards the life I deserved. Then, as I was getting in to drive away, I took a last look at our house. Our home.

I could see Riley planting the flowers by the front steps. I could see her bringing me iced tea as I mowed the lawn. I began to see, to remember the hundreds of things that she did for me. I started to remember the hundreds of things I did for her because I loved her. I loved her.

How had I forgotten that? How had sexual frustration led me to be the bastard I'd become. I suddenly thought of how I'd left my wife, my vulnerable naked wife. In a frat house. What had I been thinking?

I knew that if I went on to the life I deserved, it would be a life of loneliness and misery, a life without Riley.

It was as if I had awoken in a panic. I'd been so self-satisfied at finally getting my way, getting my revenge against a dear person who had never wanted to hurt me, I'd forgotten everything. I jumped back into the car and peeled out in a cloud of burnt tire smoke, with a horrible anxiety which didn't quell my self-loathing and disgust.

There was no parking available near the SAE house, so I left the car double parked and ran into the house, jostling the revelers out of my way as I rushed up the stairs, leaving a commotion in my wake. The bedroom door was closed; that was a good sign, I thought. I'd had envisioned a line of horny frat boys waiting their turn.

When I flung open the door, the room was crowded with the frat boys I had expected to be in line. They all had out their cell phones, taking pictures of my wife, still laying naked with legs spread on the bed. My mind registered the dried white residue -- was that mine? Or...? My mind wouldn't go there.

I was screaming at the men in the room to stop taking pictures. I was pushing and shoving them and being hit and yelled at in return. Suddenly, a voice that belonged on a quarter deck rang out: "STOP THAT! QUIET!" Three older frat boys walked in, the first one short, maybe 5'5" at most. He was clearly the man in charge.

"Stop taking pictures. YOU WILL DELETE EVERY PICTURE YOU'VE TAKEN!" Looking about the room, his eyes settled on three older looking frat boys. "You three! You're older, you should have stopped this immediately." As he was talking, one of the men who had come in with him quietly pulled a blanket off a shelf and used it to cover my wife's nakedness.

"This is not the SAE that we are! THIS IS NOT THE SAE WE WANT TO BE! I see everyone here; I know who you are. If one picture of this lady appears anywhere, even on your own phone, you will all, ALL, be thrown out of this fraternity. I guarantee it. Delete those pictures now! This is not what Sigma Alpha Epsilon stands for, now or ever!" He glared at the crowd.

He looked around the room again. "Has anyone been in here and left?" he asked.

"Sawyer was here," said one boy in a pledge beanie.

"Better go find him and make sure he doesn't show anyone any pictures. He's in it with the rest of you, and you're in it with him. Now all of you, get the hell out of here!" The room emptied except for me and the three SAE officers. "I'm Tolliver, the chapter president. I'm sorry about this. That's your wife?" I nodded. "I'll find out who left her like this, and we'll deal with it. Unless there's a need to call the authorities. Was she raped? Do you know?"

I hung my head. "I, um, I did this. I left her like this. It's my fault."

He looked at me, truly revolted by my actions. I didn't blame him. Who would do this to their own wife? "I'll send in my girlfriend to help you get her dressed." He shook his head at me, and the three of them left, closing the door behind them. I realized that not all fraternity brothers were the deviants they're portrayed as in movies. Some live up to the mottos and the disciplines fraternities profess in their bylaws and constitutions.

I was sitting on the bed, trying to untangle my wife's clothing when a young black girl opened the door and came in. "Hello, I'm Mazie, Tolliver's girl." Between Mazie and me, we got Riley back into her clothes. I was blubbering and sobbing by then. I had to constantly stop and wipe the dripping snot from my nose. I was so ashamed of myself. Mazie looked at me with a mixture of pity and revulsion. Obviously, Tolliver had told her what was going on.

I wiped my face and eyes, picked up Riley in my arms and carried her out to the car, still double parked out front. The fraternity was quiet as we walked out. I got to the car, sat her in the front seat and belted her in. As I turned, I got belted.

I went down and the Sigma Chi goon grabbed me by my shirt and slammed his fist into my nose, again. Blood ran down my face. "There," he gloated. "I told you I'd catch you later." He walked away, laughing, as his friends padded him on his back.

Another bookend, I thought. My adventure with Riley had begun with the Sigma Chi chasing me, and it will likely have ended with him punching me. I held a handkerchief to my nose and drove us home.

Riley slept through the night. At some point, she got up and took off her clothes. I didn't feel right undressing her, after what I had done. I slept in the living room, on the couch.

I awoke to my wife's kisses. She was kneeling beside me, smiling at me. I sat up and asked her, "Are you okay? Do you hurt?"

She smiled and shook her head. "My head feels a little dull but I'm okay. And I'm not sore anywhere." She smiled again, somewhat shyly when she said that.

Then I burst into tears. I'd been holding in my shame and self-loathing, and here Riley was, smiling at me, lovingly. It was too much. I gulped for breath between sobs.

Anxiety rose in Riley's eyes. She fluttered her hands while repeating "What's wrong?" over and over.

When I gasped out that I had raped her, she stopped fluttering, tilted her head, and smiled at me. "You can't rape me! You're my husband! It's your right to have me. Let me make some coffee and we'll talk."

I'd calmed down when she returned with a mug of coffee for me. I drank some, and then tried to explain that, no, no one, not even her husband, had the right to take her without her consent. She only smiled and said, "Well, I always give my consent so there's no rape." Even as I explained that she was so drunk she couldn't have given consent, she insisted that it was fine.

"I was laying upstairs this morning, thinking about what I remember, before I passed out. I remember what you did to me, how it made me feel, and I wondered how that could be wrong. I was thinking that we should try it, again, without getting me drunk." She laughed and poked me in the ribs.

"Wait," I held her hands, "there's more. After I finished, I left you lying there naked, in the frat house. I came home and packed a bag. I was going to leave you."

"You were going to leave me? What? You were leaving?" She stared at me wide eyed.

"Please forgive me. I forgot that I love you. I forgot what you mean to me. I got tied up with what you wouldn't do and forgot who you are. Please, please forgive me." I was sobbing again.

Distracted, Riley slowly nodded. "Of course, I forgive you...." She turned her head to look into my eyes. "But you left me in the bed, naked? At the SAE house? Naked? What did they do?"

"When I got back, they were taking pictures of you. But Tolliver promised that they would all delete them. He was angry when he found out."

Riley looked at me, tears now welling up in her eyes. "You left me there? I could have been raped, I could have been hurt, and now there's pictures of me out there. How could you do that to me?" She got up and walked back to the bedroom. I heard the door close, and the lock engaged.

I didn't know if anyone had taken advantage of Riley. It was possible that someone had. I'd left the door closed, so someone could have gone in quietly and had their way. Was the dried cum mine? I would probably never know. I cursed myself again, wondering how I could have been so stupid.

If she was pregnant, it was my fault, my responsibility. I resolved if she were pregnant, there would be no DNA test. I was the father, no matter what.

For three weeks, Riley avoided me, speaking to me only when she had to. She had talked to her friend who the party had been for. She assured Riley that all the pictures had been deleted. There was no mention of any sexual liberties being bragged about. I thought that was a good omen.

Riley had her period. There was no pregnancy.

After those three weeks of silence, my wife confronted me at dinner. "I think we should go to counseling. I think we need help. I think we should see a minister."

"I'm not going back to Heuchler. That's crazy." I was welling to do anything for Riley at this point, but Heuchler? No way that would be good.

"No, I agree that would be a mistake. We already know his beliefs, and I not sure either of us agrees with him now." She gave me a tentative smile. My heart perked up.

"My parents have a Catholic priest they like. I could get them to set it up if you like?" She agreed, and my mom got us an appointment.

Father O'Rouke's study was the opposite of Heuchler's. It was bright and sunny, lined with books and pictures of what looked like happy families. And it was clean and spotless. Best of all, I didn't have to breathe through my mouth. It had a fresh, clean smell of a spring day about it.

I'd been raised Catholic, but wandered away as fast as I could, once I was away from home. There's something about having to have someone interpret God for me that I find just wrong. But here I was to see if it would help Riley and me.

The priest had had a session with each of us alone. There was the initial introductory meeting where we both attend, and then Riley had stayed and spent over three hours with the good father for her session. I was supposed to have my meeting after Riley's scheduled hour-long session, but received a call from Riley saying my session would be the following day, and that she would be longer, but had a ride home so not to worry.

When Riley came home, she wouldn't tell me the details of her session with Father O'Rourke. She just said that he smelled nice, unlike her mother's ministers. She made us dinner and left me to the dishes. She said she was tired and went up to bed. It wasn't even 8:00 PM. I didn't think that was a good sign.

I hoped she'd come down, so I sat up watching a Hallmark movie I thought she'd enjoy, but she never came down and I never followed the plot of the movie. I worried about what the morrow would bring.

Riley was quiet in the morning, not quite refusing to talk, but not talking none-the-less. With great trepidation, I went to my 10 o'clock with the priest.

Father O'Rourke waved me into a chair, then sat down behind his desk. He glared at me. I hung my head, in shame. Riley had obviously told him everything. We sat in silence for what seemed like forever. I'm sure it was less than five minutes, but sitting there like that, I choked up, barely able to suppress a shame filled sob.

"How could you do that to that lovely lass? Your wife?" the priest snarled quietly at me. I shook my head. He slammed his palm on his desk, making me jump. "NO! You don't get to shake your head like it was someone else. It was YOU. WHY?"

I wiped my nose with a tissue from his desk, and then vomited words. It all came out in a rush. Our marriage, her beliefs about sex and what was allowed, my frustration, then the backstory of Wanda and the sororities, and back to my growing frustration which led to my decision to leave her. Finally, the story of the spiked punch, the rape and the abandonment in her vulnerable state. At that point I was weeping and sobbing so hard I was incoherent.

The priest watched me for a moment, and then did what I remembered priests doing from my childhood. He leaned across his desk and whacked me in the head. Much harder than when I was I child.

"Stop your weeping and blathering. Stop feeling sorry for little Bobby Price. Grow up. Think about that poor confused young girl, who still loves you despite you being an infantile ass of a man!" O'Rourke glared at me even harder, his eyes filled with loathing and revulsion. "Finish your story. I haven't all day."

I controlled my breathing and related how I had left her at the frat house naked (that elicited an angry growl from the priest), had gone home and packed, ready to leave that life behind. But then I remembered how much I loved my wife, what she meant to me outside the bedroom. I still didn't know how I could have forgotten that, how I became the bastard that I am. I didn't know how to get my Riley back. I knew that I had lost her. I sobbed again.

"Stop that or I'll whack you again." The priest huffed. "You haven't lost her, although I don't know who is stupider, you for what you did or her for staying with you."

He came around the desk and sat in the chair beside mine. He put a heavy hand on my knee and gave it a squeeze. "You've got some heavy work in front of you."

I looked at Father O'Rourke with hope, "Riley still wants me? She still loves me even with what I've done?"

The priest looked at his feet for a moment, seemingly pondering their shine. Then he spoke. "Honestly, I don't know if she loves you. I don't know how she could, given the circumstances. But she honors her marriage vows, obviously more than you're willing to."

He shook his head and glared at me again. "And that poor girl is so twisted up and confused. Between her parents, that 'religion', and your horrible treatment of her, she blames herself for everything." He shook his head again in amazement. "She doesn't forgive you, she says, because it's her fault -- not yours."

I sat dumbfounded for a moment. "No. No. She can't think that. She's done nothing but try to please me. Except for sex, where she did what she'd been taught. And I think she did that for my immortal soul as much as hers."

"Well," the priest actually grinned. "I had some success there with Riley. We both agreed that the Bible was the written word of God. Then I quoted for her the verse from Song of Songs." From memory, he continued:

"Your stature is like that of the palm,

and your breasts like clusters of fruit.

I said, 'I will climb the palm tree;

I will take hold of its fruit.'

May your breasts be like clusters of grapes on the vine,

the fragrance of your breath like apples,

and your mouth like the best wine.

And she replies," the priest said,

"'May the wine go straight to my beloved,

flowing gently over lips and teeth.

I belong to my beloved,

and his desire is for me.'"

He finished the quote with a self-deprecating grin. "The one unfortunate thing about that quote is she thinks it upholds her belief that you didn't, couldn't, rape her, because she 'belongs to her beloved'." He sneered at me. "You don't deserve that girl."

"No," I agreed. "No, I don't."

"She told me somethings about her mother's and her minister's belief in sex being only for procreation. I am amazed that belief just doesn't die off. How people like her parents stay in that kind of marriage, well, even as a celibate priest, I can't fathom how it would work.

"When she told me how she only allowed you to, how did she say you described it? 'Pump and dump'? What a crude way that reduces God's gift to man, and women." He shook his head disapprovingly at me again. "We went over how Proverbs tells us to 'Let her breasts fill you at all times with delight; be intoxicated always in her love.' However this turns out, and whoever Riley ends up with, I don't think she'll resist lovemaking in the future.

"What she remembers of that night, she remembers as being, what she said, 'Beyond pleasant. Almost heavenly.' No, I think Riley will be all right, with time."

He stood and returned to his side of the desk. "But you -- you take pride in having been an adulterer, carousing with a married woman and bragging about it, to your wife...."

I interrupted with protests that all that was before we were married. He waved away my protestations.

"But you bragged about it to your wife, making her feel less because you weren't getting the same enjoyment from your wife that you were getting from that wanton woman." He again began quoting:

"All because of the wanton lust of a prostitute, alluring, the mistress of sorceries,

Who enslaved nations by her prostitution and peoples by her witchcraft."

Then he slammed his hand on the desk again. "And you flung your licentious behavior in college at Riley, again and again, according to her. You made that girl feel less of a woman, less of a wife. And you treated her so poorly, so proud you were of your whores and harlots and your great skill at bringing pleasure to women. Yeah, look at the pleasure you brought your wife."

He looked at the clock. "I don't have any more time, or for that matter, patience for you today. Boy," he glared at me again, "know that you disgust me. If I didn't know how good your parents are and how lovely a person Riley is, I'd wash my hands of you.

"But we'll have weekly counseling sessions, from now on with both you and Riley here. But from now on, you can't touch your wife. I mean no sex, no kissing, no casual caressing. You will not even offer your hand to help her down a step. If she needs help, she'll ask, and you only do what she's asked. You'll keep your damn filthy hands to yourself, understand?"

I was shaken by how vehemently the priest was addressing me. "Yes, Father, I understand."

"Then get out. Riley will schedule our next appointment."

When I got home, Riley asked how it went. "Good, I thought. He said you'd schedule our next session," I said. Riley smiled and nodded and turned away.

It was a strange week. We hardly spoke. We never touched each other, not even by accident. While my back ached from the couch, my being ached for my wife. I missed her. I missed her voice, her touch, her smile. She still smiled occasionally, but not for me and not as fully as she used to. I ached, but not for sex. Strangely, I hadn't lost any desire, but it was not the priority of my being that it used to be. I would have settled for a kiss on the cheek, a pat on the head, anything that showed me I was still part of her world.

The biggest surprise in our first joint session was Riley announcing that she wanted us to take classes, to convert to Catholicism. I was surprised she wanted to convert, but told her that I supported her, but didn't need the classes myself. I was raised Catholic.

Father O'Rourke muttered something about how that hadn't really taken hold, now had it, as Riley insisted that I had to take the classes with her. "Besides, if you already know it all you can help me understand." We started classes the following night.

After three weeks, on our fourth joint session, Riley told Father O'Rourke that she missed my touch, and that she wanted me to return to our bedroom. If he didn't think she was ready to resume her wifely duties, then we would forego sex, but she wanted me next to her at night.

I jumped in before the priest could speak. "Riley, you're not the one who needs counseling, or needs to be ready for anything. It's me. It my soul that needs to be untwisted. It's me that needs to respect you, to recognize you as a person.

"I know you still don't think I raped you, but I know I did, and it tortures me. The one thing you do have to learn from these sessions is that no one has the right to your body but you. You give it as a gift, it's not my right or anyone else's. Please believe me. You're pure and perfect. It's me that must learn." Against instruction, I reached out and held her hand. I held it tightly.

Father O'Rourke pursed his lips, considering the two of us. "I agree. I think it's time to move forward. I still think you should wait to engage in martial relations, but even that, I'll leave it to Riley's discretion." He smiled, "It's in your hands. I'll see you next week."