February Sucks: Same Old Me (4of4)

She turned back to me. "Jim: You do not get to use me to snub the mother of your children. Not on Emma's wedding day. That's not fair to any of us, especially me. The two of you have bad blood between you, that's no secret, it's been festering for twenty years. I will not have it affect us, and I will not let it sully this occasion. Emma deserves better from you."

I felt about three inches tall. Then Grace had mercy on me.

"Jim. I know you're over Linda, and I know she's no threat to our marriage, but the situation still eats at you sometimes, like now. So the two of you are going to sit down, over drinks or coffee or something, this week. No. Tomorrow. Do it tomorrow. After the brunch. You're going to go somewhere, alone, and have it out. Get it over with. I'll take Glen somewhere else and the two of us will bitch about the two of you, for however long it takes. Got it?"

"Grace. I'm sorry," I said. "You're right, I had no business putting you in this position. I should not have used you to bust Linda's chops. That wasn't fair to anyone. And Linda. I'm sorry I set you up for that. Grace is right, you don't deserve it. That was petty of me."

"I feel like I do deserve it," Linda was looking straight at me. Not at the table, not looking away. That was new. "I mean, that night, all those years ago, I set you up with that same promise about not dancing with anyone else, and worse. I spent the whole evening teasing you and stringing you along, and when my chance came, I threw it all right in your face with my betrayal. It ended up being some kind of horrible practical joke, like yanking the chair away when you tried to sit down. Knowing what I do now, the cruelty was the whole point. That was Marc's... that was the Asshole's thing."

"So, he's 'The Asshole' now?"

"He always was."

"Not 'A Perfect Gentleman'?"

"No. God. No. Is that what I said? Is that what I sounded like?"

"You might recall how I stormed out of our first meeting with Susan Manette. You were trying to convince me what a splendid guy he was. You were particularly impressed with his ability to open doors for you and remember your name."

"God." She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "I was such a fool. I can scarcely believe it was that bad... that I was such a crazy bitch. But I was, wasn't I? Jim, I've had a lot of years to think about what I did. What I did to our marriage, what I did to you, and what I did to myself. Your wife is right. We've got a lot to talk about."

I sat back. "Okay," I said. "After the brunch. Tomorrow. We'll go somewhere and talk. You should get back to your husband, now. We'll have that dance later."

She nodded and left to go back to Glen's table without looking back. He was glaring at her. Their subsequent conversation did not look friendly. Linda never did dance with me that day.

***

We hadn't done much more than raise an eyebrow or two at the reception. What might have turned into a scene was mitigated by Grace's diplomacy. The Brunch, a more intimate affair the next morning, was drama-free. Grace reached out to Glen and let him know what was happening, and assured him that she'd keep him company while Linda and I held our long overdue postnuptial postmortem. He wasn't exactly happy about it, but he was persuadable.

With Emma and Bradley off at the airport to leave for their honeymoon, I ordered coffee for Linda and myself. I doubted either one of us would drink any of it, but that's how you pay rent on the table at the cafe. It was a weekday at a relatively quiet hour, so we pretty much had the place to ourselves. Linda arrived minutes after I did and joined me at the high-top.

"Hi. Jim. It's, it's, ah, good to see you. To talk. We haven't done this in..."

"Years, Linda. It's been years. Aside from dealing with the kids here and there, I've pretty much avoided you for the better part of two decades."

"I know. And I understand. I've tried to respect it, to give you space. I know I hurt you."

"You did. And it hurt for a long time. But here's the thing, and it's something I didn't realize until much later. You didn't just 'hurt' me. You injured me. You did actual damage. It wasn't just bruised feelings. It was real harm. To me, to my life, to my confidence and self-image. You broke me. I've had to rebuild myself, and my self-esteem, from pretty much nothing."

"I... understand that now. Jim, you should know I'm a different person than I was back then. I have been seeing therapists, on and off, all this time. I've been in marriage counseling with each of my husbands, and I've had a lot of individual sessions as well, trying to understand why I keep screwing up so much." She sniffed and delicately blew her nose into a napkin. "Things aren't going all that well with Glen, I'm sorry to say. I think we'll make it, I hope we will, but it's been tough lately. This meeting and that thing with the dancing yesterday have irritated him, I know, but I think it's necessary if I can get at least a little bit of closure with you."

"Is that why we're here?"

"In part. I also wanted... no, I NEEDED, to give you the apology I should have given you back then, but never really managed to. I didn't have it in me at the time. I didn't have the tools required, and I lacked the self-awareness. Now I'm better equipped. Jim. You dear, dear, man. I am sorry. I'm sorry I betrayed you. I'm sorry I broke you. I'm sorry I destroyed your trust in me, and I think in women in general, and maybe in the whole human race. You've spent a long time just being hurt and trying to recover, I know, and it's my fault. I'm sorry I ruined our marriage and our relationship. I'm sorry I put our children through that loss. I'm not only sorry because of what it cost me, and what it cost all of us. I'm really sorry because it was wrong. It was selfish, thoughtless, inconsiderate, stupid, and cruel. I should never have done it. I should never have done anything like that. I should never have even wanted to. I wish I never had."

"Wow. I, ah, I never thought I'd hear that from you."

"Yeah. That's because, back then, I was proud of myself. You were right about that. I kept telling myself that I had no regrets, that it was the experience of a lifetime, and that I'd always have that memory and that... validation. I didn't see it as a debasement of myself, but it was. I didn't think it would change our relationship, but it did. Just... the fact that I WOULD do that changed our relationship. I mean, once you saw that's the kind of person I was."

"Up until then, I'd blinded myself to it. That's my own fault."

"And I used that against you. I let you worship me while I was messing around with all that chatter with those women about how great it would be to cheat. God. We were all pretending to be loving wives and partners and friends, but we were just being terrible. Participating in that was a mistake." She shook her head. "I spent years telling myself that if it wasn't for that one slip, you and I had a good, solid relationship. I blamed you for the loss of it, for a long time. I still feel that way sometimes, but that's not right. The truth is that I'd been taking you for granted almost the whole time we were married. Somewhere along the way, I let myself lose respect for you. Enough to... do that. That's what ended our marriage. It was my fault."

"It hit me like a freight train."

"I know. I'm sorry. For all of it." She sniffed. "I told myself that it didn't count as 'cheating,' because I wasn't lying to you. It never occurred to me that I was lying to myself. I was. I was lying to myself about what it meant."

"Lying is wrong."

"Lying is wrong. That's not just a message for the kids, is it?"

"That's right. My mom has this thing about how integrity is power."

"Makes sense. I wish I'd learned that lesson."

"Have you? By now, I mean?"

"Kind of." She shook her head. "Not really. I guess integrity isn't something that I've got a lot of. I never did. I've spent most of my life being selfish and immature. I feed on other people's attention. You were a good source of that for me, but it wasn't enough. It could never be enough. No matter how beautiful you said I was, or how often you said it, or how much you told me or showed me you loved me, it could never have been enough because I was insatiable. I was like this... this vampire, this parasite, feeding off your adoration, and I always had to have more, more, more. That's why I kept belittling myself and putting you off when you did that. I kept telling you that you were wrong, that I was 'plain old me,' because I always needed more. And you kept right on feeding me."

"I guess I did."

"It was a vicious cycle. I've learned that I am basically a narcissist with low self-esteem. I have a voice in the back of my head, an instinct that drives me to find evidence that I'm acceptable. It's a question that's on constant repeat: 'Am I Worthy Of Love?' I gather as much evidence as I can to try to prove that the answer is 'Yes,' but at the same time I internally sabotage myself because I'm convinced that the answer is really 'No.' Everybody does that kind of thing to themselves, to one degree or another. I'm just a severe case."

"You sound like you've got a much better handle on it now."

"Acknowledging the problem is the first step. Even that took years of counseling. It's still there, in my head, but I've got red flags pinned all over it." She smiled sheepishly. "I'm a work in progress."

"As are we all."

"That's kind of you to say."

"Well. I've been avoiding you for a long time. I owe you some courtesy. And I'm sorry I set you up for rejection on the dance floor yesterday."

"It's okay, I get it. You've gotten really good, by the way. You've been taking dance lessons?"

"All this time."

"Really."

"Really. It was a way to get me out of the house, get me out of my funk, and, yes, meet some women. That's how I met Grace. Plus, I really hated how the Asshole showed me up that night. I knew that you, and every other woman in the place, but especially you, were always going to look at me like I was a clumsy idiot. On the dance floor, and, yes, by implication, in the bedroom, too, while Asshole was obviously a Real Man who knew what he was doing. So I needed to take my game up a couple of notches."

"You were never a clumsy idiot."

"I felt like it. I could never stand to think of how you'd compare me."

"There was no comparison."

"Exactly."

"NO. Oh my god, NO. Not like that. Jim. Not like that at all."

"Oh, come on. You made it perfectly clear that I could never hold a candle to him."

"Jim. Look at me. Look me in the eye."

I did. She didn't flinch.

"Jim. I really did love you, with all my heart, even though I handled it so badly. Even though I abused it the way I did, and you were right, it was abuse. As the years have gone by, as I've looked back at everything that happened... no, everything I DID; it didn't 'just happen'... I've had to keep asking the question 'Was It Worth It?' Was it worth throwing a marriage away for illicit sex I don't even remember anymore? For a long, long time, the answer was 'No.' Definitely Not Worth It. But now the question doesn't even make sense! To even ask if it was 'worth it,' it had to have been worth SOMETHING in the first place. But it wasn't. Looking back on it now, it's been completely WORTHLESS. There was no value in that experience AT ALL. Nothing to exchange or compare. None. Zero. It was just the stupidest, most pointless and most destructive thing I ever did. Period."

"That wasn't how you felt at the time."

"I know. I was lying to myself. I counted it as 'good sex,' technically, but even then I knew there was no love. I didn't feel special. I didn't feel like I mattered any more than the sheets that were on the bed. It wasn't even erotic, really. You told me that I was planning to look back on it for the rest of my life, that one shining moment, a peak experience that I'd never have again. You said you'd live the rest of your life in the shadow of it if you tried to stay with me. And you were right, damnit, that was what I intended. But do you know what I remember, now? Do you know what I look back on? You. It's all you. Asshole doesn't even exist. I've blocked him out. I look back at that time in my life and I think only of you. Those are my happy memories."

"I... don't know what to say."

"I never got that shining moment. It was only an illusion. I thought it would be something special, just for me... that it would mean I was a desirable, free, sexy woman, not just another mom-blob facing middle age. And I thought I'd get to have that, forever. But it never happened. Instead, I only revealed myself as a cheap slut who betrayed her husband and family, and for what? I was just a toy, just the... football in his sadistic game. The only thing I was left with is regret."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who's sorry. That's what I've been trying to say. I've had to live with the consequences. It wasn't fair that you did, too." She shook her head "It was totally unfair, to all of us. I'm glad you've got someone now. You deserve someone who'll treat you right, the way I never could. Grace seems like a good person. I hope you've got a good thing going with her."

"She is. I do."

"Do you love her? Do you really, really love her?"

"Yes. I do. It's different." I remembered my conversation with my mother, all those years ago. Funny. Those few days are burned into my memory like they happened last week. "When we're young, we feel things very powerfully. Everything burns so bright. But now that I'm older, my relationship with Grace is less... crisp. But it's heavier, and more substantial. It doesn't taste like a mouthful of champagne, with the intoxicating little bubbles tickling my nose. It's more like a rich, nourishing meal. Better for me, and more satisfying. Enjoyable in a totally different way."

"Good. That's good." She slumped a little. "I would like to be able to say that maybe you and I could have had that, if we'd stayed together. Maybe we could have grown into it. But honestly, knowing how I am and knowing how you are, I kind of doubt it. Turns out I'm not very good at being married. Funny. For somebody who gets married as much as I do, I'm a terrible wife."

"Surely you've gotten better. All that therapy."

"It's made some difference, sure. But... you were smart about it. You took your time finding your next marriage. You let yourself heal, you found out who you were on your own, as a single man and a single parent. You had the good sense to wait. I'm only sorry it took you, what, ten years?"

"Almost eleven. I met her nine years ago. We've only been married for five."

"Well. Getting married to Jeff right away was stupid of me. I only did it because I was terrified of being single. I still am, honestly, I don't think I could do it. And Danny only lasted as long as he did because I was doing penance for you. I felt like maybe I deserved to be cheated on, you know, with the shoe on the other foot. I wanted to see if I could see past that kind of thing, the way that I'd asked you to. Well, I couldn't. You were right to divorce me."

"And what about Glen? You said things weren't going too well."

"Yeah. Well, Glen is a good guy. Nothing wrong with him. He's better to me than I feel like I deserve a lot of the time. He gets jealous. I sometimes feel unappreciated. We get snippy with each other. We just have to keep reminding ourselves about what's important, and sometimes it feels like a chore."

Something was itching at me.

"You said... this meeting, and the thing with the dancing... you said it would be rough on him? Or something like that?"

"Pretty much."

"Then why are you doing it?"

"Because I needed to talk to you. We haven't talked like this in years, not since... well, you know."

"Because it's something you needed to do for yourself. It's got nothing to do with him. Besides, it's Just This Once. And He'll Get Over It. He Has To. And He's A Good Man. Right?"

Linda looked like she'd seen a ghost. Maybe she had, of her old self.

"Shit. Oh, my god. Oh my god. Shit. Shit. Shit."

"Yeah."

"I've... I've got to go. This was wrong. This was inappropriate. I have to get back to my husband."

"I think that would be best, yes."

"Okay." She stood up. "I'm going. Jim. Thank you. Thank you for talking. I needed to say all that." She started to bend down to kiss my cheek, then stopped, then wondered if she should try to hug me, but didn't. Instead, she just awkwardly hovered. "Just... tell me one more thing, okay? I've got to know."

"What is it?" I dearly hoped that she wasn't going to try to ask me to imagine us back together, or play some kind of 'what if' game, or, god help me, ask if we could be friends.

"At the end of your dance with Emma yesterday. You scared me. You scared everybody. What happened?"

"Oh. Yeah. It was her expression. She had her second-best smile. It said "I'm leaving you now, forever, even though I don't want to admit it. Stay put and wait for me, but I won't be back, not really. I love you, and thank you for everything." I was halfway expecting something like that. I mean, it was her wedding. She's starting her new life with her new husband. But I hadn't expected to recognize it as the same smile I'd seen once before, a long time ago, on a face just like hers. That's what got me."

Linda shuddered, then gained her feet again.

"I... oh, god. Oh, Jim. Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry."

"It's okay, Linda. I've dealt with it. For what it's worth, I can finally forgive you. I've let it go. Now Go. Go to your husband. And do a better job of being a wife to him than you did with me."

"Thank you. Thank you, Jim. I'll... we'll be in touch. Thank you."

***

"So, how did that go?" Grace had just parted company with Glen, when Linda arrived and reclaimed him.

"It was good. It went well, I think. I wasn't expecting her to be as apologetic as she was. I think she's done a lot of work and had her eyes opened about herself."

"I'm sure. And you? Did you have much to say to her?"

"A couple of things. I let her know that it wasn't just my feelings that got hurt when she left me, but she already knew that. I also told her that I recognized the goodbye in Emma's smile at the end of our dance. That kind of stunned her. And I forgave her."

"You did?"

"Yes. For real. After twenty years, I could finally put it down."

"Good for you." She snuggled into my embrace. "Good for us."

"Yeah." I snuggled back. "I feel comfortable now. I'm happy. I'm in a good place. I know how good I've got it with you, how rare that is, and how lucky I am." I kissed her and looked into her eyes. I saw warmth and wisdom and acceptance in them. "And I genuinely hope that woman will be okay. She's still got all her old issues and bad instincts. I had to point out that she was being selfish and thoughtless, again, ditching Glen to have that conversation with me."

"God, that's right, isn't it?"

"Same old Linda as always."

"Glad I'm not her."

"Me too."

***
Author's Notes: Well, thanks for sticking with me and finishing this monstrosity. "February Sucks" is what brought me back to writing on Literotica after a twenty-year hiatus. I almost didn't post this, despite having struggled with it for two and a half years. If you'd like to know how and why I'm back, please read my story "Twenty Years Is A Long Time." And of course, I invite you to read the rest of my work as well. It's my ambition to post a variety of things, not to firmly establish myself as a long-winded LW author.
-Cockatoo