Garfield and Jennifer Kline

"Mister Kline, you have a visitor?" said one of the nurses. I felt my eyes flutter open.

"How long have I..." I started.

"Forty-eight hours," she said. Then she smiled at me and left. My vision was still a little blurry, but there was no doubt that the woman tentatively approaching my bed was Jennifer Kline nee Randolph.

"My god, Garfield, I am so sorry. For the record, I called the police even before the bartender did and preferred charges against the asshole," she said. "He's in county lockup as we speak. God, how sorry I am. All I seem to be able to do is hurt you. Jesus!"

"Whaddya want, Jennifer? Why are you here? I don't pay for sex, so you can forget any liaison between you and me," I said. She frowned.

"I guess I deserved that. But, Garfield, you never paid for it before, so why would you even imagine such a ridiculous thing. You're my husband, even if you don't want to be. So all of my love and my body are yours any time you want me," she said.

"Yeah, just so long as I'm willing to share you with the paying public," I said. "Oh, and why did your asshole john imagine, know, that I had a small cock; and who was it told him I was a wimp, Jennifer? You? I'll pass on your implied invitation, thank you very much. And, I'll ask you again, why are you here?"

"I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. Like I said, you're my husband and I love you," she said. "And, as for the rest, well..."

"Yeah, well, whatever, right? Anyway, your john didn't kill me, so you can feel good again. And, you can leave," I said.

"Okay, Garfield, but there is one other thing. When you're up to it, I mean when you feel a little better, please, I'd like to take you to lunch or dinner if you'd allow. It's been a long time between meals for us. We need to sit down and talk. I mean if you'd be willing."

"What would be the point, Jennifer. I'm still a one-woman man, and you're still not a one-man woman; unless I missed something here?" I said.

"Food and talk, that's all, Garfield; oh, and the food's on me, I mean in case you were worried. Think about it." She placed her business card on the night stand beside the bed: Rosa's Beauty Salon. "Please, Garfield," and then she was gone. Rosa's Beauty Salon: blue hair for the ladies, sweet pussy for their husbands.

My next visitor was in a uniform. "Yes, officer, I'm mister Kline. And, yes, officer, I was assaulted. And, yes officer, I did tell the asshole to fuck off after he insulted me in front of god and everybody. And, no officer, I do not want to press charges. My medical bills are going to be paid by the guy, so my lawyer assures me, so it's okay. I just want to get the heck outta here and get on with my life," I said.

"All right, mister Garfield, it's your choice," he said, "Saves me a ton of paperwork, so who am I to complain. Have a nice day." The name plate on his navy-blues said McCoy. I waved weakly at him as he retreated to the nurse's station, no doubt looking for a day old donut.

I lay there thinking about Jennifer's request. Lunch? Dinner? Talk? Why? So I could feel worse than I already did. Not on your lily-white! I didn't need to talk to Jennifer Kline nee Randolph; I needed to forget her, an enterprise that was proving way more difficult than I'd hoped it would be. Difficult, hell! It was impossible.

I was sitting in my cubicle making a list of clients that I would be seeing the following week. One in particular figured to make my bonus for the year. If it closed by week's end, I was ten grand to the good. I hadn't had much to smile about since breaking up with Jenn, a year gone now; and no, I hadn't had that dinner and sit down with her; what would have been the point. But today I was smiling. Nothing was going to ruin this day for me.

Fred Lytle was CEO and the primary decision maker for Lytle Enterprises Inc. The for sale mall I was the sales agent for was being purchased by LE. It would be their flagship business center if all went according to plan. I waited for the call. No, that's not right. I waited nervously, anxiously, desperately for the call!

"Mister Kline, mister Lytle's on the phone," said Marilee, my assistant. I smiled and I answered it. Hanging up, I buzzed Marilee to come in.

"Make reservations for Antonio's for tonight, Marilee. Mister Lytle and I have a date," I said. I don't think I was too puffed up.

"Mister Kline, that's wonderful," she said.

"Yes, yes, it is," I said. "Marilee, I'm taking off now, I have some things to get ready for tonight."

"Certainly, sir, and I will have the reservations in your name for 7:00PM—as usual?" she said.

"Yes, yes, seven. I don't know what I was thinking. Seven it is."

******

"Yes, mister Kline, your parties are already here," said Ernie, the maître d'.

"Thanks, Ernie. But parties?" I said.

"Yes, mister Lytle and his lady friend.

"Oh, okay. Thank you," I said. He led me into the back where a private room for special occasions was located. I had called Marilee later in the day and instructed her to be sure that we got that room. We needed no interruptions.

He rose when I entered, and I hurried forward, not too obviously, and extended my hand. "Mister Kline, so good to see you," he said, as we shook. But, I didn't really hear him. I glanced past him to the lady, previously half hidden by the large man's body, the woman paled as did I. He noticed.

"I don't blame you for staring, mister Kline. Let me introduce the beautiful miss Randolph," he said.

She smiled mechanically at me, and offered me her hand. I did not smile back.

The shock was purely stunning. "Are you all right, mister Kline?" he said. I turned to face the man who a moment before was going to be the catalyst that made my career. But now..."

"Uh—actually..." I started. Jennifer seemed to be gathering herself.

"Mister Kline, I hope I didn't embarrass you," said Jennifer. Her words shook me. I made an effort to pull myself together. Lytle gave each of us a queer look, but Jennifer's charm brought him back. And the dinner meeting continued.

Jennifer was clearly a consummate professional escort. She had him laughing and me phonying up smiles to keep things on an even keel. The contract signed, the dinner eaten, the cocktails consumed: we parted.

******

I arrived at 7:00AM. The boss was waiting for me. Apart from nearly breaking my back, he hugged me so hard, everything went smoothly. The champagne flowed even though it was early A.M. Bonuses were passed out. I didn't even open mine. I just smiled and joined in the professional banter, by 9:00AM it was over, and we all got the day off.

At home I looked at the two things on the dinette table. I'd been sitting there staring at them for more than three hours. My stomach was awash in butterflies. I just couldn't shake the image of her and Lytle in bed together. He was only the second of her johns that I had ever met, and the first one had put me in the hospital. This one was responsible for getting me a big ass bonus.

The two items held my attention.

I opened the first one: my bonus check. I knew that it should be ten grand. Peeling back the envelope's flap I pulled out the check. It was not the ten thousand that I had expected; it was for twenty-five thousand. Twenty-five thousand dollars to watch my wife make hay with her john; I was sick.

I picked up the other item, my cell. I dialed the number on the business card. She answered on the second ring.

"Hello," she said.

"The IHOP on third in half an hour." I hung up. I knew she'd be there. And, she was.

I stood behind the chair across from her. I was on a mission. "Your john was responsible for getting me a large bonus. Biggest I ever got actually." I still had not taken my seat. I pulled out the check from my blazer's inside pocket. I held it out for her to see.

Her eyes got big. "Jesus, Garfield, that is something," she said.

"Yeah, I guess," I said. I pulled out a lighter and set it on fire, burning it in front of her eyes. Eyes of customers near our table focus on the burning paper as I set the last flaming remnants of it in a utility dish that was on the table; it shriveled and was gone.

"For godssake, Garfield what are you doing," she almost screamed.

"I will not take money from anyone, even indirectly, who is screwing my wife, not ever, Jennifer Randolph, not ever," I said. She was mouthing something, but the words were incoherent to me. I turned and walked out.

******

"You mean he actually burned a twenty-five thousand dollar check right there in the restaurant!" said Diane.

"Yes. I guess holding out hope that he might someday lighten up is kind of a waste, huh," said Jennifer. I mean it's been over a year now—and the check." Diane smirked.

"Actually, there's a chance that you might have turned the corner with him. The way I see it either his love for you or his anger at you is fast flaming out. Like a falling star that glows brightly for a moment than is cold forever. I figure it's fifty-fifty one way or the other.

"Yeah, well you know which one I'm putting my money on," said Jennifer.

"Yeah, not exactly a 'glass-half-fuller' type are you," said Diane. "But the truth is, it really could go either way. If you can get him to sit down with you, you'll get him. If not, well, it is what it is."

"It's gone on too long, Diane. If he was going to knuckle under it would have happened already," said Jennifer. "I don't know why I've waited so long. I should just divorce him and put us both out of our misery."

"No, not even. Do you know he hasn't even had a date since he left you. Reason? Because he can't get you out of his heart," said Diane.

"Maybe true, but I'm a prostitute and he is not going to go along with me remaining one. Not a chance."

"Hmm, I think it's time for me to have another chat with your hubby," said Diane. "He's suffered enough. Time to pull him out of the blue funk that he's in." Jennifer looked her askance. Diane just smiled and it was the smile of a conspirator.

******

I saw her come in. I was on my third out of what figured to be ten manhattans. It was how I was coping anymore with the things my sooner-or-later-to-be-ex had done to me and was continuing to do to me.

Twenty-five fucking thousand dollars down the shitter, and that didn't even begin to compare to the heartache that Jennifer Kline nee Randolph had caused me.

"Hello, mister Kline," said a smiling Diane Kimble. "What did you think of the stuff I gave you a while back?"

"Why do you care? You did your worst, and it destroyed my marriage. But, to answer your question, I never looked at your garbage. Is that plain enough for you. Get lost," I said.

"Now, is that any way to talk to a friend," she said.

"Friend! You've got to be kidding," I said.

"Yes, friend. If I hadn't clued you, you'd still be an unknowing cuckold, and when you did find out, and you would have; it would have been a whole lot worse," she said.

"How do you know? It's plenty bad as it is," I said.

"I know because I'm your wife's friend—her best friend actually. Spoke to her just today," said Diane.

"Really. Best friends are you. With friends like the two of you—well, you get the picture," I said.

"Look, Kline, I outted her because I couldn't stand to see her screw around on you like that. It actually pissed me off. Here she has a good man, and what does she do? She fucks everything in sight and delivers sloppy seconds to him about half the time. No, I am not sorry I outted her, and for the record she understands why I did it and forgives me.

"And, if you have a brain in your head, you'll be doing the same for her. Forgiving her I mean, and getting by your mad. Being a pro is not the bad thing that the religious nuts say it is. It can be a good thing, a healthy thing. And it is, the way Jenn and I do it," she said.

"You're crazy. The both of you are crazy," I said, standing up and getting ready to leave.

"Sit down, sport, I want to talk to you," she said.

"About what," I said.

"Just sit the fuck down. I didn't come all the way over here just to see you run for cover like some high school kid. So, sit your ass down and hear me out," said Diane. I felt like a little boy in the presence of this particular whore for some reason, and I'll be damned if I knew what the reason was. I sat.

"Good. Now, are you ready to believe me when I tell you that your wife loves you?" she said. I looked at her and almost sneered—almost.

"If she loved me would she be a fucking prostitute?" I countered.

"Yes and no," said Diane. "The two things being married to you and being a prostitute are not necessarily mutually exclusive. So, okay, I've answered your question. How about you answering mine." I looked her askance and mouthed my answer.

"Yes, I guess I believe that she does, at least on some level," I said. "Just not enough to be my wife in the true sense of the word. A one-man woman," Diane snickered.

"Au contrar, sir. She is very much a one-man woman, and the one man is you. She just doesn't see that her getting paid to fuck means anything in regards to her love for the one-man she loves. She sure as hell doesn't love any of the men she screws for cash. I am more than sure you can understand and believe that," said Diane. "So, I guess the question is, can you see your way clear to talk to her about the way she sees things. I mean give her a chance to sell her position?"

"To talk to her? Maybe. To go along with her idea of a marriage? Not real likely," I said. "But, I guess, I've cooled off enough over the past year to talk to her. But, look, I have another question."

"And that would be?" said Diane.

"When you outted her, when she laid it on me that she was going to continue whether I approved or not: she had a choice. She could choose between her life as a lady of the evening or keep her marriage. She obviously chose her life of crime. Doesn't that indicate as clear as anything that whatever she feels for me that her life on her back means more to her than I do?" I said.

Diane smirked. "For a smart guy you really are a little bit behind the curve in your reasoning, Garfield. The short answer is no. The way she saw it, she figured that you would either approve of her little career or not, and if not then there was too much history—hers—for you to forgive let alone forget. She told me she actually considered dumping her activities to keep you. But, she knew you'd always have it in the back of your mind what she'd been doing for the past seven years, and never really forgive or trust her again. The way she saw it, she had no choice but to let you go. Her only hope was—is—to get you to be okay with her lifestyle.

"Garfield, she is willing to meet you half way, maybe even more than half way. Kind of adjust what she does to suit your life together. But, for you and her to get back, she needs to get you to appreciate that what she does is not the bad thing you think it is. One thing is for absolutely sure: if you can somehow some way see your way clear to accept her activities, she will more than show her appreciation to you," said Diane.

"I don't know. I just don't know. Talking to you it all seems so nothing. But, to be at home with her, watching her get ready for a date. A date where it is absolutely certain that she will be letting a man, some john, screw her—I just don't know. Could I handle it? Ever? I know I couldn't now, but even ever? Could I get used to it? Tell me, Diane, how does any man get used to something like that!" I said, with a little more vigor than was perhaps necessary. She nodded.

"There would be a learning curve, Garfield. And in the early going it might be a bit steep. It would be up to Jenn to handle things very carefully. She, we, the both of us, understand the male ego. She knows things would be a little hard in the beginning. But, in the long run you definitely would be able to handle it if you just gave it and her the opportunity.

"Look, Garfield, other prostitutes have husbands and do fine. And I mean the husbands do fine. You want a vanilla love life with malaise setting in after a few more years? You wanna be bored to tears for the last half of your life? I don't think so!" she said.

"Yeah well..."

"'Yeah well' nothing. That's what you'll have. Your wife is willing to give you time to wake up and get it. But, she won't wait forever, even though she's told me that she will. It's been a year already. Sooner or later some stud is going to ring her chimes, and being lonely will no longer be an option," she said. I had to admit her words made me squirm.

I looked her in the eyes. "Do it," I said. "Tell her I will meet with her. No promises, I'm not sure about any of this. In these last minutes, I've been mulling something over in my mind. But, that said, I will talk to her, see her. And, her without one of her johns hanging on her arm. Okay?" I said.

"You got it, big boy," said Diane.

******

We were sitting across from each other not quite staring. More a case of being tentative about what we wanted to say—both of us—than anything else.

Jennifer broke the ice. "Shall I start or do you want to," she said, in a voice that seemed almost disinterested, which surprised me. I had thought she'd wanted this sit down.

"Is there something wrong, Jennifer? Are you wasting my time?" I said. My voice was far from being disinterested; it was decidedly irritated. "Because, if you are, we're already done." Now, she was the one that looked surprised.

"No-no," she said. "It's just—I'm—I just don't want to; well, Garfield to be honest, I just don't want to have to defend myself or what I do. I came here because Diane thought it would be a good idea, and because of the distant hope that, well, you and I might mend our fences. But, I also worry that you might be thinking of trying to convince me to live—well—conventionally."

"Interesting. Okay, I'll be honest too, I don't know how this is going to go tonight, or really, what I might be willing to do or not do. But, I do have a question that I'd like to ask. I was afraid to ask you before, but I guess tonight is the night that we get it done, settle things once and for all," I said.

"Okay, I guess I kinda feel the same way," she said. "So what's your question?"

"Why, and—how long? I mean really?" I said. Jennifer sagged back in her seat.

"You want the truth? Actually, I should say, you really do not want the unadorned truth," she said.

"That's what I thought. No, don't tell me," I said. She just looked away. "That bad, huh?" I said. She turned back to face me.

"Yes, knowing the male ego as I do. Yes, that bad." I nodded.

"Jenn, I—I—I don't want to know, but, I have to know. Tell me," I said. She looked undecided, worried.

"Garfield, I really do love you. One of the memories I have of you early on in our marriage was of how confident you were in your manhood. You weren't the kind of man who was easily intimidated," she said.

"Yeah, I remember you saying something like that to me on that first date. It made me feel real good."

"Yeah, well that's why I married you, Garfield. Guys like—well—like I thought you were—well, they're pretty hard to find. That said. You do have some..."

"Some downsides?" I finished for her. She just looked at me.

"You could say that. You are a little on the short side for me, and your dick—well—it's kinda small." My face was flushed; I could feel it.

"Okay," I said. "So what. It's what I got. You knew that going in."

"Yes, and by themselves neither of those things would have been much of an issue, certainly not deal breakers. But well, and don't take this wrong, but Garfield, you aren't real good at love making." I sat stone still and stared at her. "When I married you, I was of the opinion that you were—well—trainable. But, it didn't work out that way," said Jennifer. "You're too darn stubborn."