Ides of March Pt. 02

Rob again wanted to know if it was everything I'd ever dreamed of. I was ready this time and replied that he, Rob, was everything I'd ever dreamed of, but I still pissed it all away for the best night of sex I'd probably ever have. He seemed to soften some as I fired back reply after reply to his questions. The conflicting expressions on his face scared me. That wasn't how the plan was supposed to go. I wanted, no, needed to set him free. That, after all, would be the most correct thing I'd done since my night with the Beast. I didn't deserve him anymore, and knew it, even if he was suddenly undecided. It would take a monumental effort just to put our relationship back on solid ground. Then, to tackle some of the real underlying issues between us would take even longer, and that task seemed insurmountable. That's what I had discussed with my father that morning and then again with the kids earlier that afternoon.

It wasn't the best solution. It was just the only one that could possibly lead to a happy ending. The kids had a few years before college or just flying the coop. They'd certainly be happier with separated parents who got along. Rob would find someone who could love him, and whose dreams were better aligned with his own. The quicker I let go, the faster he'd get scooped up. Rob was still very attractive, and in many ways, more so than the Beast. Besides, he was a real hero, especially in this town, and not just a sports hero. He'd literally saved people's lives. He was in charge of a whole station and crew that continued to do the same.

I stood and went into the living room, opened a drawer, and returned with a single sheet of paper. "Rob, this is a breakdown of some of the things I'd like in the divorce. I have an appointment late Tuesday morning. We can go together and negotiate, or you can get your own attorney. It doesn't matter to me which. I've come to realize there's no way back from this for either of us. It's my fault, and I readily admit that. I don't want us hanging on by our fingernails, and I certainly won't spend my days walking on eggshells. Let's move on while we can still be friendly and civil."

Rob sat dumbfounded for a time. When you know someone as well as we knew each other, you can almost read their thoughts. He was reconciling everything. Sorting it and settling it up. That was so Rob.

"Okay Barb, if that's what you want," he said somberly. "I thought I was ready to come back and finally talk about...us. I guess you had other ideas all along."

I almost gave in. Almost. I fought back a sob, and a rather large lump in my esophagus. I cleared my throat and sat stoically. "It is, and I did," I lied.

Even one more word would have betrayed me. He knew me well too, after all. Rob said he was leaving for now, and promised to look over my preliminary proposal. We two stood there, facing each other like a couple of damned fools. Shake hands, hug, shake...smile nervously, hug again briefly. It felt like two terrible actors with stage fright trying to get through a wordless scene.

I cried for over two hours after Rob left, and then I cried myself to sleep. It didn't matter if I'd made the right decision; I had to mourn for the very best friend I'd ever had. The one I'd carelessly tossed away. The one I'd just lied to again, so he could get as far away from me as possible, and go through his grieving process. So that he could get on living a full and happy life.

Some of the women in my circles would have called Rob a wimp. A man ruled by his ego and pride. I knew better, and wouldn't let anyone badmouth my soon-to-be ex-husband. No man, at least not one who interested me, would ever be able to accept what had happened.

Rob had been on his own, trying to decide which of the lesser evils might bedevil his life the least going forward. There were no good options, where the two of us as a couple were concerned - only a glint of future happiness for two people with a broken marriage behind them. That was why I took the ball out of Rob's court. It was, after all, the very least I could do for him.

I'd never been a proponent of the old adage "If you love something, let it go." I actually had to look it up. The rest of the saying claims if it comes back it's yours forever. But the original saying by Richard Bach, the author of Jonathan Livingston Seagull, is more apropos. "If you love someone, set them free. If they come back they're yours; if they don't they never were."

So I released my pain-stricken husband from his obligations. I had no idea if he'd ever appreciate it, but I hoped in time he might. The biggest gamble of my life might pay out. The proposition didn't excite me. I could easily find a new man while discovering what I wanted in life. Rob actually had a far greater chance of finding a better woman. Stability, charm, and maturity were only some of the qualities he possessed that women my age sought.

Would this be the end for Rob and me? Possibly, but not necessarily. We had two children after all, and as time passed, I hoped the bad stuff would fade. I was counting on our love to remain, no matter how faint a flicker. A flicker that might reemerge as a roaring flame if fanned properly, and if we both desired it.

As for Billy, well, that's an interesting tale unto itself.

As I was preparing to leave Billy's hotel room that fateful morning, he'd asked, "Hey, where's your purse?"

It had seemed a strange question, but I'd told him since I'd never expected this, I'd left it with my husband before going backstage. I didn't mention my parting words to Rob. On that particular morning they'd been too painful, even for me.

"Why?"

"I was going to put my number in your phone," he'd stated confidently.

"That's a bad idea, Billy. I'm already in enough trouble, as you know. It was a one-in-a-million experience for me, but we need to leave it there."

He'd given me a half-smirk in reply. "You sure? If you give me your number, I'll just send you mine in a text. Then it will be up to you."

"No. The phone is in my purse, and the purse is with my husband. Like I said, I'm in enough trouble."

Billy had thought a moment. "You don't think he's going to get violent with you, do you?"

With a sigh, I'd said, "I can't see that happening. But I'd prefer it to him just up and leaving me."

"If he did that," Billy had said confidently, "I'd consider him a very foolish man."

I wasn't sure if he'd meant it, or if it had been his idea of flattery. We'd talked plenty the previous night and that morning about my relationship with Rob. Still, Billy wasn't one to take 'no' for an answer. Two days after we'd returned from Las Vegas I'd answered an unrecognized number calling my cell.

"Hey, Barb! Billy here. Hey, I hope you're not mad, but I called the coordinator at the magazine and talked her into giving me your number. I was worried about you. Are you okay? What happened when you went to your room?"

He was just blabbing like a nervous child. I'd cut him off, telling him I never wanted him to call my cell again and to lose the number. I'd told him truthfully what happened with Rob and me, and how I was waiting for him to come home, so we could start working things out.

"What if he doesn't come home, Barb? What then? What if there's nothing to work on?" Billy was half asking and half stating, as if the outcome was obvious.

"Why would you say that? He loves me, that's why." I'd scolded

Billy had come up short for a moment, searching for the right words. "Sometimes love isn't enough, Barb," he'd finally said.

It had been my turn to be silent.

"If it isn't, Barb, you now have my number. I really enjoyed our date. That's no bullshit. I've done this twice before for charity, but I can't say I even remember anything of significance. I remember every minute of my time with you, and I've been thinking about you for two days straight."

I'd thanked Billy for the compliment, and the night together, restated that I needed to try to fix my marriage, and bid him farewell. For some reason, I had saved his contact under "Fred."

I'd had no contact at all with him while waiting for my husband - I guess now, soon-to-be former husband - to make a decision. As I'd considered pushing the button, I'd assumed that a major star athlete would have completely forgotten about me.

I'd done it anyway. As soon as the divorce was finalized, I'd called him. Billy had answered almost immediately. He'd said he was elated to hear my voice. We'd caught up on our lives for several moments. Billy hadn't been surprised at all surprised by Rob's reaction. He'd been a little shocked at my move, though.

"Barb, I should probably confess something in the interest of full disclosure. That night, as I watched you wrestle with the idea of staying the night, I certainly didn't help you and your family, even though I was pretty sure it was going to end this way. See, I only know two kinds of guys. There's the kind that actually wants their wife to do what we did. I think it's called a cuck, or something. They like to fantasize, and that's if they don't get to actually watch the act. The other kind can never get over the fact that something was taken from them. I'm not sure I understand either, but then again, I'm pretty young myself, and not married. For my part in persuading you to stay with me, I'm truly sorry. I can see how that might seem like a hollow apology, but I mean it. I really, really like you."

I'd been a little surprised, but not shocked. "You do?" I'd asked in a teasing voice. "You don't even know me."

Billy's only reply had been, "Yet."

Billy and I had made plans to start seeing each other, whenever he was in the Midwest. He'd get chauffeured into town, or he'd have me picked up in a town car and driven to either Cleveland or Cincinnati. Those visits had been few and far between, and a few times that he'd been nearby, I couldn't work out my schedule with work or with the kids.

They say - whoever 'they' are - that sex like that is always best the first time. Well, our second time had really been the best. I think that's because we'd been on equal footing, and exactly where we'd both wanted to be. The third time was far less satisfying, and in fact there'd never been a fourth. Those last few dates had included dinner, maybe dancing, and lots of talking. For his part, Billy had finally realized that we were from different generations. Plus, he wanted a woman who could provide him children - bunches of children, - apparently.

Speaking of children, mine and Rob's had bounced back and forth, trying to decide whose side to be on. I'd had no idea what to do about that. It was quite contrary to how Rob and I raised them. The day I'd come back to our room in Vegas, they'd acted as if they only wanted to help us solve our problem. Then the way they'd turned on me when we'd come home had been unbearable. But just as quickly, when Rob wouldn't come home, they'd turned on him. I'd finally decided that because Rob and I had never actually had it out, they probably saw us as behaving like children ourselves. I can't say they were wrong. Once the divorce proceedings began, and then when everything was finalized, Rob started communicating better about the kids' schedules, school, sports and camps. He seemed content that our marriage had ended.

The divorce went through quickly and amicably. Rob and I still talked to discuss our children, but as they got older and moved on to college, those talks grew ever the rarer. The apex of my career happened about three years after the divorce, and I spent several more traveling quickly down the other side of the mountain. Rob had hip replacement surgery two years after our split. He became a health nut, and damn but the man looked good. He ran for City Council and won. I admit I was jealous when I saw him out in public with that floozy, Laura Willis. She was on the council as well, and people loved to hate her, and those fake boobs she labored about with. Neither of us remarried, but I felt more and more that we might never make another go of it.

That was the novel I'd been working on - my last greatest hit, as they say. What had started as my therapist's suggestion to write a journal culminated in the work of my life. But what of the ending? Was it to be a classic tragedy? I wracked my brain for weeks trying to turn it into a romance.

That's when my cell rang. It was Rob. It was a week before Desi's wedding and he probably received his invitation, as well. I couldn't blame her for the simple error. Of course we were among the first to know, and why would she consider sending us an invite? We were paying for the whole damned thing! Desi had met a very handsome, polite young man at the University of Michigan. At least she'd brought her parents together a tiny bit, however briefly, by choosing a school that annoyed them both.

After the pleasantries, he asked, "Can we get together on Friday?" He added that he wanted to do it at his home - clear the air before our daughter's wedding so we didn't make fools of ourselves and ruin it for her. He said all that with a chuckle, and seemed at ease talking to me for the first time in a long time.

Part III coming soon. These first two parts are also open for authors to write a different Part III ending.