Four Times

With that, she slowly walked out the door, never once looking back.

At ten, I got a text. I expected it to be my wife, maybe checking on me. It was from Steve.

"Hey Dean, Ashley will be home soon. Listen, this was really hard for her. Nothing much happened. Please, for me, for yourself, and especially for her, reclaim your wife when she gets home. She needs you."

Fucking prick. How stupid was he, or was he doing this on purpose?

"Yeah. Sure. I'll bet you'd love me getting sloppy seconds. Won't happen. Fuck off [friend]"

He'd know what the brackets meant. We'd do that when passing possible player's names back and forth for our fantasy football teams. The brackets meant we were unsure.

"Shit, grow up Dean. This isn't only about you."

Ashley came in the door, pep in her step, and came up to give me a kiss, pretending 'nothing significant' had happened. I turned and gave her my cheek. She seemed surprised for some reason. Then I think she either realized or saw my expression, that now I saw her as damaged goods, or at least differently. She turned and fled to our room.

"Are you coming to bed?" she asked in a sweet but fake voice, coming downstairs a half hour later.

"Yes, but not now. Goodnight," I answered warily.

"I know you don't want to reclaim me tonight, but I would like to at least cuddle and fall asleep with you."

The gall of this fucking woman! This was not my Ashley, in more ways than one. She didn't know what 'reclaim' meant, before Steve told her, I couldn't help another dig. I was hurting badly.

"So Steve called you as soon as we stopped texting? What? Get your stories straight? Get old Dean back in the fold? Conspiring with your lover against me, behind my back, the same night you've been together, isn't really helping your position here, Ash. We've been over this. Besides, I've moved most of my stuff to the guest room."

She still didn't quite get it, since there wasn't anything in there but a run-down single bed. She turned and went upstairs, as if not believing me. I guess trust was a two-way street after all. When she came back into the living room, she looked sullen, and hurt.

"You're going to sleep on an air mattress? You know what that will do to your back? Just come to bed, Dean. I understand if you need the space, and I won't pressure you. There's no need for this. And what you're calling conspiracy, I call two friends discussing how to help you."

Ashley was a smart woman, but not nearly smart enough. We'd been together a long time. I wasn't buying her conniving bullshit. Plus she'd just confirmed what I'd predicted the other night. What I 'called' something meant less than nothing anymore.

"I'm not sleeping there for space, and you know that. I just don't want to be around you, Ash. I'm pissed and hurting because of what the two of you are doing; what you did tonight and... what you plan to do. I don't want to say or do something I'll regret later, if there's even a little chance for us. You promised, you'd understand, and let me be. Isn't it about time you abided by one of your promises, at least, just by accident? I won't need your help at least until it's over."

Ashley looked horrified. "What do you mean? A chance? Oh, baby..." she left it hanging and came to me. I put my hands up in front of my chest, and she stopped halfway.

Her sadness was close to overtaking her. "Dean, nothing's over," she claimed very softly. "Nothing's ending. I love you. We're keeping an oath and we're helping a friend, that's all. Yes, he did tell me. It wasn't a call. I was still there... in the shower. He told me when I came out... dressed. He just wanted to say his original idea was probably not as good as he thought. He said you might be having some... uh, guy issues."

That really set me off, and I screamed at her like never before. "Yeah, I'm sure. Fuck you two. What kind of man sends his former best friend's wife home freshly fucked, and wants him to take the sloppy leftovers, unless he's the one with the 'man' issues? That's pretty fucking low Ashley, and I would have thought you knew better - knew me better after all these years. I'm on the outside looking in. All of your promises to 'love the pain right out of me' later are a crock of shit. You're with him. I don't think you're going to be able to salve my feelings, or fix this. I know for sure he won't."

"I didn't have intercourse with him!" She didn't scream it, although she was loud. It just fell out of her mouth. "I just..." She stopped dead. "We didn't have intercourse." I shook my head.

Ashley had more to say, and so did I, even though I wanted to wait until the next day. But she knew after twenty-three years when the horse had been beaten, so she slowly turned and headed up to bed. Through her tears, I heard, "I love you, Dean."

"Right now," I said softly, "I can't even imagine how to respond to that."

Sunday was the worst day I can ever recall with Ashley. We avoided each other like the plague. I could have taken some pride in predicting the outcome, but it was just too sad. If she had thought about it, she'd have seen how wrong she'd been. I guess in her determination, she felt she could focus on me afterwards. Fuck that.

Monday I went to work early and stayed late. That set the tone for the rest of the week. I don't think I spoke even five full sentences to my wife since her first time with Steve. Friday, I was invited out after work with the guys; something I rarely did - because I usually wanted to be with my wife. Not that night.

Saturday I left a note that I was going golfing, and if she and Steve were still on, I'd appreciate it if she went to see him early, so I didn't have to see her when I got home. She didn't answer, but I knew her car would be gone. It was. I turned in early. All my worries and apprehension were starting to turn to a raging hot anger, - predicted in advance, I was sure, by her 'mathemagical' plan

When I came downstairs Sunday morning, Ashley was at the table drinking her coffee. She looked as bad as I felt.

"Can we talk, Dean?" she asked meekly.

I poured a cup and sat down across from her. I couldn't even look at her, but nodded.

"Steve says..." I cut her off immediately.

"I don't want to hear a fucking word about Steve!" I snarled through gritted teeth.

"Stop!" she screamed right back, "I need to talk to you. I'm not talking about him, like you think. Can you just listen to me, please?"

I drank my coffee and leaned back, giving her the floor.

"He asked," she began cautiously, "how things were on the home front. When I told him, he said that's what he figured. We talked a long time. He told me he's extremely worried about us. Steve made some suggestions, and asked me to talk to you about them, see what you thought, and go from there. He said we need to do something before... before it's the end of ussssss."

Ashley broke down sobbing. I hated what she was doing to us, but I still loved her. My abiding, cemented belief that she was completely insane had me swinging wildly between outrage and pity all the time. I came around her side, and held her until she started sniffling, getting herself together. I brought a box of tissue, and beckoned for her to continue.

"He said," she went on, "some men do things like run off. Get a new cell number and won't speak to the wife ever again. Turn their backs completely on their families because the hurt and pain are too much. Is that how you're feeling, Dean?"

"I've told you," I said, shrugging, "both of you over and over, how I felt from the beginning. Neither of you listened to me. Here we are, the morning after the second time. Some of my suspicions have already come to fruition. I can't see myself ever letting either of you, trying to help me get over this thing. Right now, I don't even want to get over it. Since last night was supposed to be 'for me' I laid in bed and thought about going out to a club and trying to pick up a hot woman, and fucking her in our bed. I can't even think straight anymore.

"The vision that's in your head, it isn't going to happen like you want. I'm not going to sit down with you and that fucker when you're done and talk it all out. You'll start out frustrated, he'll give you shit ideas that don't work. Your frustration will turn to anger and then desperation. And he'll be right there to console you. You'll start to believe that I don't love you enough, or, Emily, and that will be that."

I had to stop for a moment. Tunnel vision was starting in the corners of my eyes, so I went to the bathroom and took my meds, and then washed my face. When I came back, Ashley looked even worse after digesting my words.

"Ash," I said breaking the silence, "I don't know what else to say. I don't think there is anything. You know where I stand. Do what you're going to do. It's already been twice... so."

"I know. I get it." She said defeated. "That's what Steve said. He told me we made a big mistake discussing it among ourselves before talking to you. He doesn't want us to split up."

"Yeah, that makes him seem like such a good guy, doesn't it?" I said, my words dripping with sarcasm.

"Dean," she said it a bit strained, and I braced for her big finish. "We talked about it and decided to spend next weekend together. He's very worried about us, but also knows I won't quit halfway through. I'm leaving Friday night and will be home Sunday afternoon. Before you start yelling, we decided we needed to get this over with for everyone's sake - before it's too late. We're combining the third and fourth times. "

"Uh huh." I stated sarcastically. We were back to square one.

"Honey, please," she begged. "We're trying to make this easier on you. I doubt there will be much sex. We spent most of our time talking about Emily and about our relationship."

"Was that before you two did it, or is that the pillow talk afterwards?" A week or two ago, I would've felt bad for being so mean after 'Emily' had just passed her lips, but things had changed. Emily was a weapon, now. Whoever spoke her name was breaking any and all ceasefires. I left the room before she could run.

Later, when I came back in, she started up, and I stopped her.

"Ashley, this conversation isn't getting us anywhere. Just go be with him. I can't stop you anyway. Just go. I'm sure if it's going to be the weekend, then it will be more than just the two times. Go have your fun, but know this: it's going to take me a long time to 'get over it' as you say. I'm not even sure I can get over it. I see things differently now, and that's on the two of you. Don't be surprised if the final result isn't what you hoped for."

"Of course, it's going to only the two times!" she half screamed. "Why don't you trust me anymore? Are you trying to drive me to him, for god's sake?"

She must have seen my look change, as she realized that didn't come out right. She came to me and held my face between her hands.

"This is it. The last time, and then it's over. I come home and we put our lives back together, okay? I know you're hurting. I... both of us, Steve and I are hurting for you and with you."

She was delusional, but I was talked out.

Ashley tried for the rest of the week, I'll give her that. Unlike the week between the first and second times, she started a conversation every night when I came home. Two nights, I stopped at a bar for a drink, and the one became a few. She waited up. Unfortunately, the words were just regurgitated from previous conversations, and I felt the attentiveness was faked. Maybe, she thought, if she just kept hammering away her points, I'd cave in. She was wrong. I'd had the divorce papers drawn up. I'd taken some stuff I'd needed for vacation.

And vacation was how I saw it, because I was still no closer to a decision about how I would either deal with this or end it. I just took the money for our upcoming combined vacation to Grand Teton National Park this year - we certainly wouldn't need it for that purpose anymore - and paid down my credit card to near zero. I had a fifteen thousand dollar limit, and had no intention of spending more than I needed. But I would do some backpacking in the Ozarks, some fly fishing too, and I'd be alone.

Steve took the same approach: silence. I think he knew better. Ashley looked haggard as she prepared to leave for her weekend. There was a period of silence. I knew that I should savor it, even though it was thick and ugly. She did break it right before she was ready to leave.

She came up to me, and held me tightly. "I'll be back on Sunday night, and ready to help us to heal from this. I never expected to hurt you this badly. I want you to know, in my heart, that that was never my aim. I tried everything to guide all of us past it, around it, as much as I could. It will just be the two times, as it says in the oath. That will be four times - still one less than before we were married. Starting the minute I get home, I'll prove it. I won't push you, just love you. We'll talk about anything you want, when you're ready. I love you Dean, and I always will."

She kissed me, and I allowed that too. I guess I wasn't ready to give up on the woman I'd loved for so long, but maybe it was more that I was afraid it might be the last time we ever shared a kiss. She took her overnight bag, and blew me a kiss from the driveway. The only thing missing from her was 'sorry.'

I closed the front door, slid to the floor right there, and cried for half an hour. I bawled like the day after my parent's funeral. When I finished, I understood that I'd done it for my own sanity, just in case we were finished. What she'd just inadvertently admitted to, also left me feeling hopeless, yet resolved. I had to grieve for the fact that I was most likely going to be truly alone again.

It's pretty hard to think about damaged marriages and relationships when the fish are biting. I'd found a fairly secluded spot on the river, about two and a half feet deep in places, on a steady slope from the shore. I caught mostly bass, but a few bullnose trout. The problem was that there were both size restrictions and catch limits. I'd been told all about them when I'd bought my fishing license, and I'd exceeded the in the first twenty minutes of the early dawn hours. Now it truly was just catch and release.

I hadn't heard from Ashley, since Sunday, and it was now Tuesday. I was happy at least, that she was finally respecting one of my wishes. After just a few days on my own, I'd come to a conclusion. After a week or so, I'd go home, pretending to give them a very slim chance to come clean. In the meantime, I'd turn in my notice, clear out my fair share of the money and my 401K.

I'd known of four times Ashley was with him, before we got married. She always said it was four. That fifth time she mistakenly mentioned, on the way out the door, had to have been the night of the bachelor party. I doubted she'd even realized she'd said it. So there was little chance that she'd confess it. I'd leave that as my mic drop on the way out the door.

Before leaving Saturday morning, I'd left Ashley a note on top of a certain page from her scrapbook of promises. The one I'd shared with her that very first night I'd been blindsided. It was torn into little pieces and neatly stacked, with my note placed on it. I also burned that fucking scrapbook. I did not leave my ring. It was mine, and for whatever reason, I didn't wish to part with it. The note said:

Ashley,

We've said a lot of things to each other. I never wanted to hurt you, ever. I never thought you, or Steve for that matter, could hurt me like you have, ever. I'll be gone for a while. I took our vacation money. I don't need or want your help - putting me back together -and certainly not Steve's. He was right. That friendship has sailed. If this all sounds too final, or if you can't 'get over' what I'm doing, then just text me, "We're done." If by some chance you still want me to come back and try to put our lives back together, then I only have these few asks. Put this torn page back together. Separately write down all the promises you made on it, and then broke. Finally, write down and sign how you're going to repair all those broken promises. When I return, we'll talk about them, one at a time, and very specifically. Just so we're clear, being around Steve, ever again, without me right there with you, is a deal breaker for us. So if you decide to see him while I'm gone, even for coffee, don't bother with the paper or the promises. It won't matter past that. Hopeful we might find a way forward,

Dean.

I had my SUV packed up. My feet were thoroughly dry and my sneakers back on. I was having fish for dinner tonight, and if there were any other friendly campers nearby, so were they. I was more resolved in my approach to Ashley and Steve than since this whole mess started. I'd take the rest of the week, see if I still felt resolved and relieved, and then go home to see if there was a tiny chance of salvaging things. That was, unless she texted me "We're done."

Ashley had called me Saturday morning, just before I'd written the note. I hadn't answered, and she'd texted, asking me to call. She'd wanted to make sure I was okay. Of course she'd professed her love, as she always did. I'd texted her I was as good as could be expected, and to leave me alone and go be with Steve. I'd finished the text by saying that I didn't want the constant reminder, and I'd see her Sunday.

My phone started going off Sunday afternoon, as expected. Ashley was worried about my leaving. She didn't mention the note. She literally begged me to call. I didn't, but sent a text, just so I could have some peace. I probably should have turned off the damned phone. I told her, not asked, what part of 'leave me alone' she didn't understand.

The fourth message that night was different. She'd wanted to see if I'd really taken our vacation money, and, while she'd rummaged through our home office, had found the divorce papers in my desk drawer. I fleetingly wondered if Steve was over there, 'consoling' her. Her tone, in the text, was still frantic, but mixed with desperation and a touch of anger. That spoke volumes to me.

Finally, when I got to my hotel for the night, I texted her:

"Another promise broken, right Ash? 'Oh, I'll give you all the space you need.' Isn't that what you said?"

There weren't any more calls or texts that night or Monday.

Then there were Steve's texts from Monday. "Call me NOW"

"What do you want Steve? Is Ashley there with you? Have you been spending the nights at my house, comforting her? Tell me the truth, old buddy."

The next three were sent separately.

"You're a damned fool."

"She's a mess. Don't you care about her? You need to get home so we can fix this."

"I don't care if we remain friends, but you have a family, and a wife who loves you."

I thought for a minute. "But inwardly, you'd prefer that I didn't come back, right Steve-O?"

That was our last communication. There was not a doubt in my mind about how he wanted all of this to shake out. The longer I sulked, the more time he had to convince her I was a cry-baby wimp, and a lost cause. And he would. He was the lawyer. He'd given her exactly what she'd wanted and needed. He'd humored her insanity. That, he'd learned from me. Fuck. Me.

I spoke to Destiny Tuesday morning before heading to the river. It turned out that Haley was with her. I told her I was on a solo vacation, and that her mom and I were having some problems, in case they talked. We all said our heart-felt 'love you's' and then I was off.

The scenery was awe-inspiring. The green on the mountains was the greenest thing I'd ever seen. I half-wondered why we'd always made such a big deal about going so far west on vacation with all this beauty almost in our backyard. Coming down the seven-percent grade, and around a bend, the river I'd earlier fished came into view, but far below the horizon. It was there, across my windshield, at a forty-five degree angle, as the curve continued.