Long after the Game Ch. 02

Slowly she started to rebuild. She talked about me – about not blaming me for my reactions and what I'd done. Then it got really interesting, once she started examining what I was going through. Wondering where I was, what I was doing, who with, – wondering what my feelings were, did I blame myself, and so on. That's when she decided to make the video for me – the one she'd sent me with her talking to the therapist. She was absolutely despondent that she couldn't talk to me – she understood why, but she just wanted to try and make me feel better, as much as she was able to. To reassure me that it wasn't me who had done this or caused this – it was her and on her alone.

Once she'd done that, the tone settled down even more – she talked about going to the car show and the new opportunity she'd grabbed with both hands. She talked about the blog she'd set up – she had been an interior designer after all, and if she wasn't doing it now, she was at least talking about it. She talked about her life, and she talked about her desire to be reunited with me, and wondering how to make that come about.

Then the divorce decree came through; that was a bad day for her. Or a bad week. It had been for me too. I remember sitting in the bar with Simon, Polly and Jonathan and just getting extremely fucked up. There's really no support or words that can make a day like that better. I don't even remember getting home. I remembered the hangover though.

Deanna had spent the night watching the Joy Luck Club, with two bottles of wine for company. It hadn't been great for her, either.

Over time, she started to reinvigorate herself. And the plans for our eventual reconciliation started to become her focus. She met some group of women on Craigslist, all of whom had done what Deanna had –well at least the cheating part - and they were helping her. I was grateful for that at least. Then I stopped reading and thought about the implications of that thought, and decided I didn't want to think about that very much.

When I finished the journals four days later, I really didn't know what to think. There was nothing particularly shocking in Deanna's journals – it was all as I'd have thought, if I spent anytime wondering about what she was doing. I couldn't tell how I felt once I read it – it confirmed that she was genuinely contrite and really was thinking about what she'd done and why. There were questions I had; you can't read something like that and not have questions – but there was no sudden epiphany that suddenly changed the way I thought about what happened, or about her. I did start to wonder what mindset she had hoped I would be in once I'd read these; I wasn't suddenly ready to forgive or forget – I still remembered sitting in a closet and crying my eyes out, watching a video of her and that fucking prick, and hearing the things she said. That hurt hadn't gone away. And she, presumably, would know that. So I did wonder what was going to follow reading these journals to make me change my mind.

An interesting aspect of the whole thing was that there was no clear resolution as to why she'd initially taken the offer. Why she'd jumped on his bed and spread for him. It was so outside of who I thought she was, and from her journal, she seemed to think the same thing. As much as I could tell from the journals, she'd done it because she could. It wasn't as if there was a large amount of dissatisfaction with her life. She made the point repeatedly that she loved her life with me, the kids and so on. As near as she could tell, she took the opportunity because she saw it to become someone different. To have a different dimension. It wasn't like what she had was not enough, this was just a way to add to who she was. And, of course, she has heard so much from Crystal about how she had cheated on Charlie and it had sounded exciting and fun and interesting and easy to get away with. I'd never know that she'd done it, but she would and she'd become a more rounded person, get some thrills out of it, and that was the extent of it. It was a split second, completely non-considered decision. It was there, she took it. It had nothing to do with her 'normal' life at all – it was not a reflection on it, or a lack in it, it was just an opportunity for her to be someone else for a bit and she took it. I did wonder about that, since the immediate question that came to mind was "why do you need to be someone else, when you've gone on and on about how you love what you are?", but that was a question for another day, when we were together in person.

And then the dangerous sex thing happened and she discovered yet another dimension she never knew she had - and that's when things changed again. There was no way she was going to share that with me – how do you tell your husband that you've discovered that the chance of being discovered makes sex better for you without going into how you discovered that – and so that had perpetuated the affair longer than it should have. I did wryly smile at the "should have" part of the entry she'd written. I did wonder what the officially correct duration of an affair should be.

After having read them, the biggest conclusion I'd come to was that Deanna was absolutely contrite. She understood what she'd done – she still didn't really understand the depth of the impact on me, but what she had understood shook her to her core – as it should have. I got an insight into her life, and the fact that she desperately wanted me back, and had spent a lot of time and effort trying to work out the best way to make that happen.

I had questions about some of the things she'd written, and I also had determined that I needed to tell her about my feelings. About how I felt about the whole thing, both then and now. About how she's ripped my heart out and tossed it away without even giving a shit, or ever thinking about it. As I thought about it, tears started to come – I was right back in Madison, discovering her infidelity, and I spent twenty minutes just trying to control myself.

I knew then that she had an uphill climb ahead of her to get me to give her the chance to be able to do that to me again.

*****

Deanna asked the hostess if "Mr. Morrison was there yet", and was taken directly to his table. He rose as she sat down, asking for some water from the hostess.

Trey sat back down and took a sip of his wine he'd ordered.

"So, how'd it go?" he asked, without preamble, as Deanna ordered a coke from the waitress who was hovering nearby.

Deanna smiled at him. "Well, he's on board, insofar as there is a board to be on. We had dinner, I explained what I wanted to do, I gave him the journals, he read them, and he texted me to say 'ok'. I think I may have a shot here."

Trey forced a smile. "I'm glad for you. What's next in Operation Ryan?"

"Well, dinner twice a week, and in two weeks, a long family weekend. I've got it planned out – we are going to Minneapolis for the weekend. Go check out the Mall of America. I am renting a van, and we are driving. Being forced to be in the car together will be good."

Trey nodded slowly. He picked up his wine and swirled it around, studying it.

"I have an idea... do you...um...work out?"

Deanna gave him that sideways look that women do when asked something they don't think they should be asked.

"Err.. not that it's much of your business, but no," she replied, slightly coldly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it," said Trey, putting the wine down again. "I just had an idea. What if you – and Ryan – took up a sport together? Something with teams, where you have to play together? If you pick the right thing, where you both are starting from scratch, well... it's a chance to grow together. Doing something healthy, and doing it together...?" Trey's voice drifted off. Deanna was staring at him.

"What. A. Terrific. Idea." She said, admiringly. "I wonder what we should do? Racquetball?"

"I don't know enough about Ryan to advise. It's more a concept than an actual idea. But it'll get the two of you doing something together, get you more face time. I mean, it doesn't really matter what the sport is...as long as you start and grow together."

Deanna beamed some more. "It's brilliant. Trey, you are a genius."

She took a drink and then asked, a little timidly, "Did you do this, with your wife?"

"I tried. She wasn't that interested."

"What was the sport?"

Trey shifted uncomfortably in his chair and then looked at Deanna. "Well, my sport is golf. Not half bad, either. But what she chose...well, it was...."

He looked away and mumbled something. Deanna leaned in and said, "What?"

There was a pause where Trey shifted again, and wouldn't look Deanna in the eye.

"Table Tennis. OK? It was Table Tennis. It was a disaster."

Deanna did her best not to laugh, but a strangled snort came out.

"I played Table Tennis at college." She said, once she gained control of herself.

"And I'm sure it was a better experience than I had with my ex," replied Trey, attempting to reassert his dignity.

Deanna smiled again, sympathetically. "I still don't know why you guys didn't work out. You seem like a pretty awesome guy to me."

Trey smiled, gently and looked away again. "It just wasn't meant to be. What she wanted, I didn't, and vice versa. Lets order lunch," he said, changing the subject and picking up his menu, very deliberately ending that topic of conversation.

Deanna continued to look at him for a second, and then picked up her menu too.

*****

I sat, staring at her. I wasn't sure I'd actually heard what she'd just said, and had to ask her to repeat it.

We were out at Giordano's Pizza, sharing a deep dish. It's one of my weaknesses – I love their pizza and usually have one a week. The kids aren't that fussed about it, but as I tease them, they wouldn't know good pizza if they wore it on their clothes. As they pointed out, I often did. Sod them. They are some one else's children, I know it. Spawn of Satan, sent to test me.

Anyway, it was the first of the dinners that Deanna was insisting we have. She knew my favorites and arranged for us to eat here, knowing I would accept, just because it was an excuse to stuff myself.

What I didn't realize was it was a set up.

We'd met, sat down, innocently talked about our week- she was going to be working on some conference for dentists, and it was apparently putting her to sleep – and then, when the pizza arrived, and I smelled it and made appreciative noises, she, oh, so innocently asked me if I was working out at all, and would I like to take up a sport with her?

I stopped dragging the first piece to my plate and looked at her and said, "Do I look like I'm working out? Who has the time? What sport? What are you talking about?"

She put down her knife and fork and said," Look, I just thought, we might take up a sport together. Start out together, so we are both the same level of ability. Do it together. It wouldn't hurt you to do some running around, or me either. We are both at an age where we could use some of that. We could do something team related, so we play together. Be a team. Work together. Perhaps, regain trust or something."

She smiled with that smile that indicates self-satisfaction at being clever. I finished dumping my pizza slice on my plate and realized that the reason we were here had nothing to do with me liking the place and every thing do with her trying to get me to look at myself in a negative fashion and agree.

I started cutting the slice – Giordano's pizza is more like a pie than a pizza and a slice is about two inches thick – and asked, idly, what sport she had in mind.

Her answer was what I had to ask her to repeat. Because I could not have just heard her say "Table Tennis". Could I?

She said it again. I was not mistaken. She was obviously insane and I needed to have her committed.

"Um. No." was my witty and clever response. "There's no way I'm playing Ping Pong with you. That's just Not Going To Happen."

"Ok," she accepted, with a carefully bland face. "What should we do then?"

Goddamit. Out maneuvered. She'd managed to get my tacit acceptance, and the Table Tennis was a feint. Now I had to come up with something. Hmm. Lets go ridiculous, and see what happens.

"How about Frisbee Golf? I've always thought that looked fun?" I hazarded, expecting her to laugh and give me her real thoughts.

Deanna smirked and gave that face when you are contemplating something that's not your favorite, but you'll entertain it anyway. "I could get behind that," she said, after a minute's consideration.

This was getting out of hand. I didn't want to play Frisbee Golf with her. I didn't know if I wanted to play anything with her. In desperation I said, "Is this one of the 'Bunch of things'?", using that despised finger quotation marks thing when I said it.

She took a large mouthful of her pizza, chewed, swallowed and said thoughtfully, "No, it isn't. I was just looking at you and thinking, and someone – a friend – mentioned it was something he'd done with his wife – a way of doing something together. I just thought it might work out for us."

"A friend?" I couldn't stop myself asking, "what friend?"

Deanna looked at me, and took in my slightly belligerent attitude. I realized that I shouldn't have said anything – it made me look like I cared, and she had picked up on that. A very slight smile flitted across her face before she leaned forward and took one of my hands.

"It's fine. It's a male friend, who is...advising me. While I have that group of friends who have helped, they are all women. And I need a...guy's viewpoint. I need help understanding where you are coming from. And, to be honest, I need to know if the things I want to do will work and how I might make them more...effective."

"I see. And he does this for you, does he? Out of the goodness of his heart? Free and gratis?" Yeah, this wasn't going well. I wasn't as in control as I should have been. And that, in itself, was revealing in ways I didn't want to consider right then.

She could see where I was going and she scowled at me. "Ryan, if I wanted to sleep with him, I would. You don't own me."

That was a mistake and she could see it was the instant she said it, as I pulled my hand away from her. I pushed my plate away and got up to leave. "I've lost my appetite." I said, as I grabbed my jacket from the back of the chair.

"No. Stop. Wait Ryan" said Deanna, standing and looking worried. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Please, don't go. Stay and at least finish the pizza. You know it's your favorite. Don't let my thoughtlessness destroy that."

I had my coat in hand and just looked at her, weighing up how I felt. I really wasn't hungry any more, but she did seem like she had things to say, and at least she was being honest with me. Even if I didn't like what she had to say.

I sat down, although I didn't go near the pizza.

"Fine." I said. I wasn't going to say anything else.

"I'm sorry,' she said again. "Look, he's just a friend. He's helping out. He's trying to find ways we can connect more. I'd have thought you'd appreciate that. There's nothing else there. You can meet him if you want."

I didn't like it, but she was right. I didn't own her. We'd both given up those rights in the divorce. I just looked at her.

"Ok, so Table Tennis is out. Frisbee Golf, I can live with that." she said, attempting to return the conversation to its original roots.

I kept looking at her, sucking on my teeth, trying to decide what to do.

What the fuck. I didn't care. She could fuck the entire 82nd airborne as far as I was concerned, and as long as I kept repeating that to myself, I'm pretty sure I'd believe it before long. I'm sure I would.

But she was driving this little adventure, not me. I was ok as I was. What this little event proved was that her chances of getting to me were less than she thought they were, and I was ok in terms of my own personal armor. I could afford to let her have this, because it just reinforced that I didn't care, and that she still hadn't learned some of the lessons she needed to for us to move forward.

So given that, I had another piece of pizza. Waste not, want not and all that. And damn, it was good.

*****

So we did it. We played Frisbee Golf. And man, did I learn a lot.

The kids thought it was hilarious, of course. That there was an actual game around Frisbees. And it's golf. They came along to our first practice session. Deanna had found a local course – that was a surprise to me, that there were actual dedicated courses. Some where just normal golf courses, and some were temporary made around a normal park. But there were some dedicated courses. I was astounded. That there was enough interest to spend the time and money for prime real estate to play Frisbee Golf on just blew me away.

We all learned a lot – how you throw the Frisbees into a metal chain cage at about head height, how the rules are basically golf – you even tee off. That there are different types of Frisbee you use based on distance you are throwing, like using a different club in real golf. Throwing further, you want a heavier disc, with sharper edges, because it supposedly cuts through the air easier.

There's different throwing styles, stuff to learn about wind – wind affects a Frisbee more than it does a golf ball, even though it affects them too. There was a hell of a lot more to learn than I had thought.

We all went to the park to practice – Deanna, me, the kids, the whole shebang. And what was even more weird was how much fun we all had. I got hit about three times by the kids throwing Frisbees at me – deliberately, of course. Everyone laughed, we all gasped when Deanna got a hole in one – bitch. The kids got into it as well, and we held a mini tournament, right there and then. I won, natch. And it had nothing to do with nudging anyone else's arms while they were throwing, or anything like that. I don't care what anyone else says, I don't cheat. Much. Well, no more than the rest of them. Except Deanna, she was the champion at cheating, if you know what I mean.

And what's even weirder was that after the couple of hours we spent, when it got dark, we were all tired! We'd just thrown a Frisbee around, but it's amazing how much it can take it out of you. Well, either that or we all desperately needed some exercise. Probably both.

Predictably, Simon instantly got interested too, when I mentioned it to him and I told him to put away the credit card before he bought a solid gold Frisbee. I know he'd do it, too, and Polly would roll her eyes at me and berate me for not holding him back. I told him it was a family only thing, and that shut him up.

So, that was a thing – in the words of an old friend "Helluva thing!" Unexpected, but fun! And I wasn't blind to the fact that it meant I'd be with Deanna for two more hours a week – two times a week. Four more hours of enforced captivity. Sorry, togetherness. That's what I was told it was. I didn't fight it. I got in a few good shots at her with the Frisbee, and apologized afterwards, of course.

So, then came the weekend event she'd promised, and that's where I started to come a little unglued.