Four Times Squared

"Ashley," I responded with a long sigh, "you're gone more than you are here, I..."

"I have to work, Dean!" she interrupted. "You know that."

I studied her face for a moment. I'd never known Ashley to be this delusional. Had I missed it all this time? "I'm not talking about work." I said, daring her to deny it.

She didn't immediately reply so I carried on. "Where are you off to all these evenings? Before you answer, Ash, at least have the decency to be honest, because we both know it's rhetorical."

She looked at her plate again. "I don't have anyone to talk to. I understand you're still upset about the oath, and you made me promise to give you your space, but I need support too."

Finally.

"Ashley, again, be honest. You're going to him for companionship, sure, but that also means sex. How stupid do you think I am? He wants you, and you've been doing it all along. You're not ever going to say 'no,' and we both know that. He's a selfish prick with a dead wife.

"Things didn't go how both of you suspected regarding the oath, and now you don't know what to do. I didn't mean to get in the accident, just so we're clear. That was my condition hitting me on a dangerous stretch of road. But even if I never walk again, I'm glad it happened, because now my eyes are open."

"I just want my marriage back, Dean," she said in a raspy voice. "Wait, what did you just say? Been doing what all along?"

I leaned forward in my wheelchair staring her down. "You know exactly what I mean. All the way back to the bachelor party." I left it there, again daring her to deny it.

Besides the look of shock, Ashley studied my face intently, hoping against hope to find the slightest hint of a bluff. I could almost hear her heart beating.

"How?" she tried to say, but it came out like she'd just spent time in a desert without water.

"How, indeed," I shrugged. "I just figured it out. Starting with the simple fact that no two people who claimed to care for and love another, like the two of you did, could even consider carrying out that stupid blood oath. You filled in the first blank by telling me about your 'fifth' time. After that it was pretty easy." I wasn't about to describe my near-death experience to someone it would be wasted on. Besides, how to you accuse your spouse of cheating, by saying you read her mind and feelings, in a vision when your heart had stopped beating

"I never m..."

I cut her off. "Ashley, please," I admonished her, "let's just not do that. Maybe you didn't mean to, but you did, and you should have at least thought about that a long time ago. Besides, I won't be ready to hear your apology for quite some time, if ever."

Tears streamed down Ashley's face. From the expression she wore, I guessed they were tears of relief. She'd carried the burden far too long, trying to protect herself, placate Steve, and keep me in the dark.

"What now, Dean?" she asked meekly.

"Now, you start packing and go to him for good," I stated with zero emotion.

Temporary insanity overtook her. "No! You need someone to take care..." her emphatic words trailed off, seemingly remembering our new house guest.

"Oh, I get it," she said dejectedly.

"Yes. I suppose you finally do, Ashley. You'll be served some papers, either at work or at Steve's. I'd prefer not to embarrass you at a new job you're going to need. Seems more appropriate for it to be at his place. Get someone to look them over, and sign on that dotted fucking line like there's no tomorrow. I want this done, and if either of you start pissing me off, you won't like the result. I'm nowhere near as stupid as Steve probably tells you I am."

Ashley stared at me briefly. Then she shocked me by standing, touching my forearm, and saying, simply, "I'm truly sorry, Dean. Sorry for all this."

I heard her in the master - sorting her stuff, and packing. I heard her talking on the phone, and heard enough to know who she was talking to. At one point, I heard her say, "No, I can manage, thanks."

So the prick wanted to come rescue her, just so he could rub my face in their twenty year affair, one last time. It was depressing that I hadn't seen him for who he was before. Ashley came back with three suitcases and her overnight bag. She took her keys out of her purse and removed our house key, setting it on the counter.

"Dean, I never stopped loving you," she said with a crack in her voice. "If you don't ever believe anything else about me, know that that's the truth."

"Goodbye Ashley," I said, staring out our kitchen window, giving her my back. It's all that she deserved.

Once she was gone, I called the PI and told him it was done and I'd be sending the email shortly, and would let them know when I got a response from Steve.

To get that Trojan attached, I'd have to send Steve one last email. I'd also have to grovel a bit, to ensure his ego-driven response. It was one of the hardest things, I'd ever done, but well worth it.

"Steve,

I've finally found peace, and I just wanted to say, you've bested me. I guess you were the better man all along. You and Ashley deserve each other, and I mean that in any way you choose to take it. I truly hope to never see you again, but if I do, no hard feelings."

His reply came less than an hour later:

"Buddy,

That's the part you just don't get. I've ALWAYS deserved her, and everything else life has to offer. Because you're so slow on the draw, and were the very last to realize I'm the better man, I'm going to overlook your left-handed comment, and simply say - good luck. Toodles!

Smug bastard. I sure hoped this worked.

Then I called Destiny, and when she told me that Haley was in class, I told them there was something important I needed to share if they could FaceTime me as soon as Haley got back. An hour and a half later, I spilled the whole tawdry story to them. There was lots of crying, and pledges to come home and look after me. That's when I introduced them to Emily, who'd returned earlier. I made sure they knew I was well taken care of and to focus on their studies. Haley obviously became emotional upon hearing her mother's name.

"Haley, listen honey," I started, "when I had my accident, I felt something. I know your mom is in a good place. She's okay, and she's at peace. Don't ask me how I know, I just do."

Later that same afternoon, I got a call from the PI.

"That was fast," I said. "Found something already?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Not exactly what we were looking for, but something better, in my opinion. We found several communications between Steve and another law firm. They were trying to settle a case between their clients: a married woman's husband, and Steve. I found the name of another PI firm in the email, and reached out. Seemed the now ex-husband was having the wife followed and had some pics taken of the pair making out.

"But get this. The pictures are from eight days after Steve's wife was buried. We also found out he's part of an exclusive swingers club locally, and he's the self-proclaimed recruiter of new married couples. I'm guessing through the women. We don't need any more info, or to do anything illegal. This should be enough to ruin him. Do you concur?"

Epilogue:

I did concur. Two days after my attorney said Ashley had signed the paperwork, I took out a full page ad in the local paper. That cost me another chunk on my credit card, but it needed to be done.

I published the picture of the good-looking blonde woman, her face blurred out, sitting cozily next to Steve at a nice restaurant. They were holding hands and looking lovingly into each other's eyes. In the caption, I'd written:

This is Steve Jackson. He's a local attorney and was a friend of mine for twenty years. Some friend he turned out to be. You see, he's been hooking up and having sex with my wife, unbeknownst to me or his wife, for twenty years running. After my recent automobile accident, which left me disabled, he completed his mission by stealing my wife completely. Here, he's with someone else's wife, not mine, only eight days after his own spouse died of cancer. To each their own, I guess, but beware if your wife or significant other knows this guy. He's very good at what he does.

The morning the ad ran, I wrote an email to the swingers club, letting them know that with Steve's recent exposure, my attorney would be looking hard at the club's exploits and Steve's involvement. I implied that lawsuits would follow.

Haley told my daughter that Steve had been 'let go' by his law firm seven days after having his name in lights. I guess the big wigs in Savannah didn't need or want the publicity. Haley said her dad quickly signed on with a firm in Southern California. Steve never came after me, and I never heard another word from him again.

Two months later, our divorce was fast-walked, which surprised me, considering my attorney mentioned a huge backlog of cases. Life with Emily was... soothing, I guess. She doted on me far beyond her medical mandate. I found out early on that the reason she could devote so much time to me was due to her being a trust-fund baby. She eventually transferred to a local hospital, and also a private practice.

I still wasn't there yet. Still feeling alone, and missing many aspects of my life, I slowed in my recovery. That also had to do with the fact that, while all feeling in my hips and pelvis had returned, my left leg saw no progress.

One night as I slept, I encountered my dear friend once again.

"Dean Browning, get off your ass!" she started as we sat in a brightly-lit room. I think it was a room, anyway. I knew we were both sitting, but it was too bright to see any walls or doors.

"You didn't go back so you could feel sorry for yourself, or wallow in self-pity," she scolded. "Neither your parents or I want that. Go live a life that makes you happy, first, but that also provides meaning. Yes, you're an only child. Yes, you had a strange condition, and yes, your leg doesn't work. And still, millions of people have it far worse. You were given a special gift. Don't you dare waste it! You're a good man, with a pure heart. One thing at a time... one day at a time. Until you can handle two things, and then three, and so on. I want to be proud of my best friend. Now go."

And she was gone. That was the last time I ever saw my friend Emily in a dream. But I took her words to heart. She'd been right. Two years after my divorce, I received a prosthetic leg on my left side. Six months after that, Emily and I married.

The girls had spent all their school break time with me and Emily, since their mother had left Steve four days after my ad had come out. I wondered why it had taken that long. She'd moved back to the Chicago area to be close to her parents.

Emily and I didn't fall madly in love. Actually, that was the best part. It was a gradual love, filled with deep mutual understanding and respect. We were 'friends first,' as the saying goes. Destiny and Haley, well, they were another story. She was a lot closer to their age than to me or Ashley.

After getting used to my new leg, I began to tinker with a new electrical node where the connections between nerve and machine took place. After taking early retirement from the State, Emily helped me, and together we created a prototype where the connections were encased in human plasma. This assured a bonding and a faster response time at the point where the electrical responses from human nerve met the hardware. Eventually, the idea was developed in lab, and I was brought onto the project as a consultant. We had earned plenty of money, and we'd earned it by helping other people.

Five years after my life changed so dramatically, Destiny was about to embark on a life-changing adventure of her own. She was getting married to a nice young man named Danny Nelson. I knew Ashley would be there, even though Destiny relied on Emily more for the planning and organization. I'm pretty sure that Emily convinced my daughter to invite her mom. Destiny had mentioned she'd be bringing a date: her new boyfriend - another lawyer. Some people never learn.

As the reception was winding down, and the newlyweds had scurried off to their honeymoon, Ashley approached me.

"Can we talk a minute, Dean?" she asked, gesturing to an empty table near the rear of the hall. I followed her back and sat facing her. After the expected comments about the wedding and how our little girl had grown, she got to the point.

"Dean, I want to tell you some things," she began. "I thought it might help you close the books on us, but as I really thought more about this conversation over the last several weeks, I've come to a conclusion - an epiphany, of sorts. It seems me telling you this is more for me than for you. So if you have questions afterward, I'll gladly answer them, but if you don't, I'll understand that too.

She drew a deep breath. "What happened," she said, "what I did to you, and I suppose to Emily as well, was about the most selfish thing I can imagine. How I ever got to that point is still a mystery to me, and a topic at each week's therapy session. I've forgiven myself for your bachelor party night. As much as I hate Steve now, I've also forgiven him for that one. I can barely remember anything about it, except that I was dead drunk. I'll never even know if he made the first move or if I did. We were young, drunk and pathetic. My mistake was keeping it from you. I had drunken sex with someone you knew I dated, so I should have been able to tell you about it.

"The rest," she said hesitantly, "there's no excuse, but here goes: a year after the girls were born, Steve started flirting with me, like he had when we were in college. It wasn't unfamiliar or off-putting. In fact, it was the opposite. The first time, Em was out on a dive, and you had to go to Tallahassee. We had the girls at his house, and he simply seduced me while they were napping. Before you say anything, I let him. I knew what I was doing, even if I wasn't thinking about the ramifications.

"To my eternal embarrassment," she replied, her voice sounding small now, "every time after that I looked forward to it."

She must have instantly seen my look.

"That didn't come out right, "she stated apologetically. "Not for the sex. The sex was always better with you than with him. That's why we switched in college. But that was the biggest of my mistakes. Yes, we were more sexually compatible, just like Em was with Steve, but I've always wanted more. Outside of the sex, I realized in those first few years with you, that I should have stayed with Steve or someone else more like him. I've always been drawn to that strong, outgoing personality: a man exuding self-confidence, and a certain savoir faire."

I frowned, grappling with her confession. "Okay, Ash, but why not just tell me that early on, so we didn't waste twenty damned years? You could have just asked for a divorce."

"Because," she responded sheepishly, "Steve wouldn't leave her. Said he'd never do it. He started working on me, saying neither of you would be the wiser. We'd be careful. As it was, we only got together like that once or twice a year. Two years we didn't have sex at all, but a few others, we did it four times. He didn't coerce me, Dean. I went along willingly. I wanted to believe what he was selling: That I'd still have my loving husband at home, and could also live out my fantasy with him.

She seemed to want to let that settle. I couldn't hold her eyes anymore and looked away at nothing in particular. I'd spent twenty years with two of the most selfish people alive, and had carried on with them, giving freely of myself, and my heart, blissfully ignorant.

"Four times squared," I spat belligerently.

"No, Dean," she said quietly, reaching for my hand. "Don't think that way. This is all on me. I should have been more aware when Steve started putting Emily down and belittling you. He was carefully making me choose a side, two against two. I didn't pay attention, and then, after Emily died, he came over one day with the scrapbook. He said this was our way to stay together. What he didn't know was that I was already envisioning a new life after Destiny left for college. I couldn't even tell him that. And I lied to you as well when I said that I'd never leave you for him, or anyone else. I was a cat in a cage, and I never told any of you, not even Emily.

"We didn't have sex that final weekend. I was in too much turmoil. His stupid ideas weren't working, and I just wanted out - out of it all. After you placed that ad, I finally realized what a fool I'd been. Here I am, five years down the road, still trying to find myself, but look at you.

"Dean," she said, smiling as she squeezed my hand. "You ended up with both kids, and, dare I say, a replacement Emily, that I can tell loves you very much. You married a selfish, narcissistic bitch the first time out. And, so yes, four times squared. I don't know math, but in a good way."

I sat there, stunned. I wanted to say something - really thought I should say something, anything. But I didn't. She stood, kissed my cheek, and said, "Live a good life Dean. I know that somewhere, Emily is smiling down on you, and she's very proud."

Emily and I did live a good life, if I do say so myself. She didn't want children and I certainly breathed a sigh of relief about that. Quite a few years after Destiny's wedding, I finally understood Ashley's perceived aloofness. It wasn't that at all. She may have been all the things she admitted to, but at least she knew it. I'd finally discovered the things about myself that I needed desperately to know. She simply stated the facts of our lives, and wished me well.