Heel and Toe

Devon offered quietly yet with conviction, "If you want a pregnancy test you will have it. I will have any sort of test you want. I will undergo any trial; I will provide any evidence you need. Whether I saw it coming or not, I saw the picture you showed me. Yes, I took off my panties and gave them to him. They weren't provocative ones, but the act certainly was. Yes, he rubbed my ass and I was borderline drunk. I was nervous and they fed me drinks. But I also waited for him to open that car door, then I sat down into that back seat. I was the one who grabbed his shirt and pulled him in with me. I have plenty to atone for! I didn't give him my ass, as you put it, but I gave him liberties that he never earned; liberties that weren't mine to grant. I wasn't trying to argue before about a pregnancy test. I didn't understand. I sure do now! I'm in the fight of my life and I'm vowing to you again that I am up for the fight. I won't let you down this time!"

I wasn't sure how to say it so I just did, "I'm sorry babe you've been with another man, you say only so far, except I'm shattered and so is my trust simply because you have been with another man in any capacity. I have to build a new foundation to have confidence in you again."

"Oh shit, Reggie." She reached out and stroked my cheek, "I've really damaged us, haven't I? I hated keeping it from you. I didn't want to be with him, but I was seriously ... twice. I swear I was stopping it before the finish line, and he never put his seed in or on my body. I know you can't believe any of that yet. It's enough I was taking hot laps with him even if he didn't end up in the winner's circle. Lord in heaven, you must be so miserable. I'm SO sorry!"

"And an STD panel, Dev."

"What? I don't understand."

"Sexually Transmitted Disease."

"Oh!" Wait Reg, I didn't have sex with him... but sure, you need reassurance." Her face was full of sorrow when she began to talk. Then anger crossed it. She was mad at herself for needing me explain it. She felt it meant she was not responsive enough to what she'd done to me.

I said it quietly, "Dev, it's not just to rebuild my confidence, you could have something just from kissing him or whatever penetration there was. Sorry honey, he's the sort of guy that picks up women in meat markets. You may have picked up something from your make-out sessions."

Devon shivered for a moment. "Okay. Yes, of course," deflated and crushed she tried to hold back tears.

I added, "I'll have to have one too."

Now she was worried. "Did you... have you been seeing someone?"

"No." I was firm.

"Then why?"

She reasoned it out and hugged me tight. "No, Reg, I haven't been cheating all along. I didn't mean to shut you down. You can tell when I was involved with that guy, I was in turmoil, I was too guilty to touch you, I was sure somehow you would know. I had to stop it first. I was in a clench with him, twice dammit, but I don't think I've had a chance to give you anything," the light bulb went on and she went pale all over again, "but I did kiss him even though there was no sex. And yes, I have kissed you." He words came out in a gasp at the end.

She held her breath putting her hand over her mouth. She saw the misery, frustration, and anger written across my face. This was not a situation anyone expected to be put in by their spouse. Devon was discovering she was in deeper and deeper with each passing minute.

"I-I will do anything not to lose you. I won't screw up this second chance," then she wished she had put that another way. "Oh God, how can you love me enough to grant this?! I-I will never hurt you again. I will never knowingly betray you. I swear."

She looked at her mother, "I don't get what you were doing, but I'm not fighting that battle now. I have to save my marriage and my man from bleeding out from my stabbing him in the back." She gave her mother a rather disgusted look. "It's possible I may have given my husband a venereal disease! What possible good is a wife like that to an honest proud husband? Does it look like I've made him proud? Did you EVER inflict pain like that on Daddy? Of course not! But I've sure done it to my husband - because I helped you!" She put an emphasis on "you" that turned the stomach.

"I've caused my husband to fear I don't love him, at least not enough. He believes that I cheated. There's no grey area, nothing he doesn't understand, it doesn't matter to him that I didn't actually screw the guy. In his eyes, for what I HAVE done, I AM a cheater. There's no way to ever revoke that. We both have to live the rest of our days with that! It's his love and mercy that give my marriage any chance. If I'm a cheater the marriage is already toast. That guy at the club had his hands on me, over my clothes and, oh God, his tongue in my mouth, and... more.

"My husband wants to know the degree of my guilt, but I'm already guilty - that's understood. Your definition of cheating Mom, and mine either, don't count. I cheated by his definition. And he is suffering accordingly! The same way you would have suffered if Dad had screwed some tart right in front of you. My husband loves me enough to grant me a second chance, and you're trying to cover for me to hide your own shame. By staying with me my man is already taking that horrible shame on himself. I'm sorry Mom I'm staying with Reggie. I have to fix what I've broken; I-I can't see you anymore."

Devon turned to me, "Honey, you are crawling through broken glass to give me this chance. Yes, I'll do those things and any other. Anything to reassure you I can be a faithful wife to you!"

* * * * * *

Part Two: Marta

My wife and I worked like hell. We'd both lost confidence in her. That Devon felt the same way about what she'd done and understood that was on her was a huge bridge back for me.

Devon harbored tremendous guilt, more than I thought. It turned out I hadn't lost my trust as much as I feared, I was, however, more wounded than I knew. As bad as that seems, it's still better than the other way around. We were back in the groove pretty quickly; that we loved each other and wanted the other to know it was back almost immediately. The awkwardness lasted a month or two, other issues took months longer, some almost two years.

Ten months after confronting my wife and mother-in-law, a nervous as anything Devon approached me saying though she feared dredging it up, she wanted a headstone for the buried demons, and to make a display of a new commitment. It was simple enough. Devon thought I was finally back to an even keel but didn't want anything taken for granted. She promised she understood the meaning and generosity of her second chance, explaning it was something like alcoholism in that there's never a time where the person is declared cured and can adopt alcohol back into their lives. Receiving her second chance meant she had to prove both her love and devotion every day the rest of her life. That didn't mean wearing an emotional ankle tracking bracelet the rest of her life. She couldn't live a life under probation, at some point for both of us I had to put away my trust issues. We couldn't live normally until I did. I couldn't do that until she'd demonstrated her worthiness. I answered that she no longer needed to from my standpoint. She beamed at my removal of the imaginary "ankle bracelet".

Devon wrapped her arms around my chest pressing her ear against my heart, "Reg, I can't tell you my joy knowing you're over the worst of what I did to you. That you can trust me again at all is a symphony to my heart. I'm not going to stop proving myself though, I will earnestly devote myself to actions that keep you from harm and see to your further healing. I'm going to keep trying to earn your love and demonstrate my love to you. I need to, but not because I'm under sentence, but because I want to! I feel closer to you now than ever. Seeing you work through pain I caused you in order to keep me is humbling. That you're working to help me when I betrayed you, has produced a reverence of sort I feel for you. More than I ever I know what I have: I will never take it for granted!"

To build a better future for ourselves all we really had to do was keep on keeping on.

Devon's mom was pretty meek around me too. We didn't bump into each other much as her contact with my wife had been cut off. Apparently being alone with nothing but how low you're sinking is sobering. If she really needed something, we arranged that she could contact me directly or send a message and we would take care of it.

Earlier, about two months after the confrontation my wife and I had navigated the initial awkwardness to swim past the breakers together. We felt like we were working as a team to defeat a terrible obstacle. Only then did we feel we could speak about side issues, like her mother. My wife said her two siblings were on the phone to their mother a lot, but they lived states away. Her mother was alone now, in a house where she lived for decades with her husband, without so much as his ghost for company.

And so, one of the first things we did to heal our relationship, was develop a plan concerning her mother together. It helped us face together all the issues that put us on the rocks. The plan's basics were almost entirely mine. Devon found them shocking -- in a good way. She was supercharged to help as a result. She refined them and helped tailor them to her mother.

My mother-in-law was shocked when I called her one Thursday almost exactly two months after the confrontation at my kitchen table. Marta more shocked when I told her I was taking her to a vintage sports car race on Saturday. It would be a two-hour trip: we would have to talk. Marta agreed that was good. And it felt that my leaving her alone any longer would cause a bad reaction somehow. She had a son, but he was more like her, as well as a thousand miles away. In both spirit and proximity, I was the closest thing to her husband, James, in her life. As twisted as it was, I felt I owed both Devon and James a shot at more normalized relations with Marta. Devon understood whatever we ended up with was going to be up to Marta.

Marta kept it light expecting me to yell or berate her while on the trip to the race. I told her that wasn't going to happen and that she should relax. That she didn't relax actually seemed like a good thing to me. Realizing I was trying to keep it light; she responded in kind. I caught her smiling at me a couple of times. Her smile was the result of a pleasant shock. Much like my wife's reaction to my fighting for our marriage after she'd blown it up, she couldn't believe her good fortune at our being together amicably.

When we arrived and were looking for the correct parking zone, Marta became subdued.

She reached out and touched my wrist before we could leave the car. As soon as she made contact, she pulled her fingers away as if she feared my striking out like a cobra.

"Reg, Reggie, I want to thank you for a number if things. This trip of course, a-and how you have treated me today. Most especially for staying with my daughter! I've been fearful of what to say on the way here. You were a perfect gentleman and personable companion. I'm not sure I deserve being treated so well. I didn't want you to think I was ducking my responsibilities, I just wanted you to lead, t-to have your say first if you wanted to." She looked at me appreciatively with large helpings of contrition. "We can talk on the way back. I-If you want," She hurriedly added.

"My other kids see things pretty much as you have. I need to make a formal and heartfelt apology. Not just for what I've done, but also for this: for you of all people having to waste your time coming back to help the batshit crazy old broad that almost cost you and my daughter the love of your lives."

Marta was very close to crying. I kept my voice kind and reassuring. It was difficult considering my actual feelings. But my grievances were not the purpose of this trip. I thought I carried out my actual mission admirably.

"Stop that," I said kindly as she teared up. "We're here to have a good time, sort of to reset our relationship. While Devon and I have gotten to the point where we aren't walking on eggshells around each other, we still have some real issues however. That she went to that guys car twice just rips me right in half... I-I thought I meant more to her than that. B-But I'm trying to mean as much to her now as I thought I did then."

That I was struggling to "mean more" to her daughter caused Marta to choke on her gasp. It was a really odd sound. I made sure she was okay and continued.

"We can cover all that on the way home. Devon and I are working together on everything again. We have a real chance to make it."

"Chance?" Marta was stricken.

"Yes, and that's a lot better than being dead already, which is where I thought we were when I surprised you two months ago."

She was quiet. She actually shook a bit before forcing out just above a whisper, "It's all my fault. Devon loves you more than anything. I misused her love of her mother to convince her to do things she didn't want to do, that hurt the two of you. Reg, you must believe in her love again! The world won't be right if you don't."

I nodded, "We'll talk. I'm relieved to see you've had a change of heart. But that's still not why we're here today."

"Reggie, my change of heart started the night you confronted us. I need to thank you for that too. Thank God you didn't see those pictures and throw my daughter away. I know that's what you think she did to you. She never intended that. I was desperate to look at my world in any other way than I had ... when James was alive. That was a mistake. I'm sorry."

I finally had the car parked. I released my seat belt and turned towards her.

"I'm very thankful to still have her and to still be married. Both of us are doing all we can to stay that way. I could go into it, maybe later, not now. I have a pretty good imagination; I know what it felt like when I thought I'd lost my wife. I know that wasn't what you dealt with losing James. This will sound callus, having the man pass away you know loves and honors you sucks. Watching someone you love cease loving you, is pretty terrible too. They aren't the same, but I can imagine how you are feeling. I hope the two of us having felt something similar can use that as bridge to help each other."

Marta gasped again, this time there was no choking, just an open mouth stare until she remembered herself.

"Marta, I AM trying to help you now. I don't want you alone, but I can't have you near my wife for a while yet. You nudged her away from me so easily I still have deep wonders about how much she feels for me. I can't shake thinking that once there was a little separation between us, that Devon was the one who picked up the pace and sprinted away on her own without your prodding."

Marta's expression was hard to categorize until I pegged it: a person who scared they might let the cat out of the bag. Did that mean my fear about my wife was correct?

I continued carefully, "Whether she actually fu... had intercourse or they just mutually masturbated or not, they made out several times and gave access to each other's body. Damn it, she passionately kissed him! That's cheating whether she went the last mile or not. There's no debate, Devon... cheated on me."

Marta saw I was distraught. She was surprised by how quickly I got my emotions under control. Her eyes grew watery knowing the amount of time and energy that must have gone into forging that control. She understood her antics had cost me dearly.

"Marta, I still think you told the guy exactly what to do. If so, then my wife is not as heavily to blame, almost like a scenario where she was drugged, the deck would be very stacked against her. She'd put up a defense only to have him walk right past it."

Marta reached over and touched my arm; she did not pull back this time. She was quiet though determined to tell me, "Reggie, I did not do it to break you up, but I did indeed tell that man what to do. I thought it was the only way he had a chance at spending time with her. I thought that was the only way I had a chance with his friend. I wanted him to have time with her, but I didn't want him to have her! I didn't think there was any harm in making a friend to share a drink, a dance, and a laugh with. I didn't see romance or sex in any degree creeping into it, outside of flirting initially to get the guy's attention. All I wanted was to be with you and Devon more; she's my only family in the area. I thought I needed my own man to change the dynamic. I never wanted to harm the two of you! I cannot tell you how ashamed I am at what I caused."

I let my head hang shaking it back and forth for a moment, "Marta let's build our new road forward with honesty. I don't trust you much, though I'm trying to reach out to you. You need help, and now with the ground back under my feet I can reach out to you. I can't let my wife see you yet, I'm scared she would pull away again and then I would know how little she loves me. That's my failing, but I'm up front about it. So, you're stuck with me for now. I'm not trying to punish. I'm trying to watch and observe in order to figure out a way to help, to honestly help you. Do you believe that?"

"Yes Reggie, you could have destroyed me by remote control, or by simply by cutting me off. I'm astounded you reached back out."

"I'm sorry for the delay, my highest priority was my wife. We aren't fixed by a long shot, although enough I can get you into a lifeboat now too. The race seemed a perfect venue."

Marta made a point of composing herself. She took a long sweeping look out of the car's windows. Vintage sports cars were a hobby of mine and her husband's, it's how we met and bonded. I was a top-third amateur driver. I was good, perhaps good enough to squeak out a hectic living doing it. Except I could make more and be more productive elsewhere and keep racing as my hobby. As a hobbyist I was kick ass. Because I was approachable, I got into a lot of great conversations with folks that loved racing but didn't have the reflexes, wallets, or frankly the guts for actual competition. James had the wallet and the guts, especially as age and a sedentary job were eating at his reflexes; he was never going to be more than an enthusiastic hobbyist. But he got it and we became "fast friends". The most rarified thing is finding someone with the true spirit of a racer.

James introduced me to his wife, Marta, after I finished the race I was competing in. We had wine, then a lovely dinner, with other racers and enthusiasts in the village that night after the Glen was over. We became regular cohorts. James and I actually began racing his Aston in vintage races on occasion. Eventually James and Marta brought their daughter, Devon, to a race to meet me, and the rest is history. I hoped there were still more chapters of that history to be written.

Marta broke my revelry, "This idea is grand, "capitol" as my husband playfully used to say. I'm so happy to see these people again! Thank you, Reg."

"Marta, I want you to know I plan on being quiet. I don't want to mess up the chemistry you have with your buddies. I don't want you to misinterpret my silence; I've told you what I'm doing. I don't plan to bring up my compromised marital situation or your role in it. I'm simply here with my mother-in-law enjoying a common passion, and my wife can't make it for a few weeks, so here we are."

"That's the cover story?" Her expression was hard to decipher.

"You know me better than that. Think about it, it's the truth." I paused, "I just didn't want you to think I would undermine you with your friends. I honestly want you to have a good time today!"

Marta was still quite a beautiful woman, especially when she smiled so intently.