Long after the Game Ch. 05

I got in, wondering what the ride would be like. I've always wanted to drive one those things.

It was like a rocket on silk. I mean, this thing just took off... Deanna always had a heavy right foot, but I could only assume her right foot had been replaced by Thors Hammer, at the speed this thing took off. Silently, too. And smooth. Oh so smooth.

The dashboard was like something you'd get on the Starship Enterprise. I kept expecting her to call down to Scotty, to ask for more power or to warned there were Romulans in the vicinity and to keep the shields up. It was awesome.

She kept up a chatter all the way. It was weird, sitting in the back while my wife acted as chauffer, in a car I desperately wanted to drive myself. But then my life is always disjointed that way.

We headed into the city on I-88, then onto 290, past the toll section. I kept trying to ask her where we were going and she put me off artfully. She kept giving me obvious hints, then when I thought I'd got it, shouting, "No! Guess again!" and giving me completely contradictory clues.

Eventually I noticed we downtown, and heading north, up Clark. Past the Bally's health club, where, when I was young, prior to meeting Deanna, I'd been working out downtown and some guy had exposed himself to me in the shower. He'd turned around, full mast, so to speak, and said, "What do you think of that then?" and I'd left. Immediately. I was still covered in soap, but I was clean. I would do. Anything to get out of that place, right then.

I started to get misgivings when we passed Belmont, and positive palpitations when we went past Roscoe. And there it was, on the corner of Addison and Clark. 1060, West Addison, an address made famous in the Blues Brothers. Because that's where Wrigley field was, home of the Chicago Cubs, named because they were supposed to be the baseball version of the Chicago Bears.

Where it had all started, when I'd been directed to watch a baseball game – the cross-town classic – that had my wife and her lover on the big screen, groping each other. This was not a place I wanted to be, nor memories I wanted to have.

Deanna glanced back at me and saw my face.

"Ryan," she said, in measured tones, "please. This is something I need to finish. I need to complete the tasks. This is the last one. Please, if you ever trusted me, if our years together meant something, please, let me do this one last thing. For my own sanity, and for yours. Please, go with me on this. I categorically state that you won't be harmed here, or insulted, or upset. Just... please. Let me do this."

"Do what specifically, Deanna?"

"Just wait a little longer, and you'll see."

This was so not where I wanted to be. I had a suspicion of what she was up to, and this was not something I wanted. Not at all. But if it was what I thought it was, then I could see she would.

With a huge amount of control, and no small amount of internal mental wrestling, I decided to go with it. She had earned that amount of small trust, I knew.

"Ok. But here's my conditions. The moment I feel like I don't want to be there, I'm gone, ok?"

Deanna flashed a smile into the rearview mirror, as she turned into the official parking lot (Where, I noticed, it was a forty dollar parking fee. FORTY FUCKING DOLLARS. Jesus Christ, I should be staying the night with a hotel room thrown in for that cost! Or at the very least a free blowjob!) and said, "Thanks Honey. Trust me, it's going to be ok. You'll see."

So we parked, taking note of where we parked; this was a Tesla, and I wanted to be sure she'd get it back, and into the park we went. We had great seats, behind the infield on the home side. We got the obligatory beer and hotdog – you cannot go to a ball game in America (and particularly not Wrigley field) and not get a beer and a hotdog. It's against the law, in fact, so I understand. And went and sat down. I couldn't help but notice these seats were no where near where the dick shiner she'd had her affair with had his season tickets, thank god.

So the game went on, they were playing the Cleveland Indians, and it was a slow game. Hell, all baseball games are slow games. I always found them quite tedious. I'm aware that there is a lot of strategy involved in how it's played, but frankly, it's slow, boring and not a lot happens. It's one of the reasons why team sport games are just not my thing.

But it was sunny, there was beer, hotdogs, and I had a pretty woman with me, that I was sure would put out if I asked her to, even if I didn't ask. It was weird, being at the location where we had destroyed each other's lives, her with her cheating and me with exposing it so publicly. I'd actually never been to Wrigley field in years, so it was strange to be there after all that had happened there.

I was pretty sure that one of two things was going to happen. Either she was going to push me into another high-risk sex situation, or...exactly what did happened at the bottom of the 5th inning.

While the teams changed sides, up came the inevitable ads and other little animations on the electronic billboards, and then... came the message.

There was Deanna, in a pre-recorded message, sixty foot high on the electronic jumbotron. The real life Deanna grabbed my hand and held on tightly.

"Hi there," the sixty foot Deanna intoned, as the crowd quieted down. "Some of you may know my face. A couple of years ago, my husband caught me cheating with someone at one of these games. Someone hacked the display systems here, and put up my face and that of my accomplice. So the whole world knew what I'd done. And I'm here to apologize, on the big screen, where my life was shown to the world, to my husband. I disrespected you, and our family, and I was insane to have done so. I have no excuse, I can only ask you to forgive me. I am as repentant as I can be, and just wish I could put this behind me, but only you can do that, Ryan. You are the only man I've ever loved. Please, Forgive me."

There was a roar as the crowd surged up and started clapping. Some even stood up.

I was expecting there to be a camera on us, shown on the screen, but there wasn't, which was a wise move. Because if I'd said no, well, I'd have been ripped limb from limb by this crowd.

As it was, about thirty seconds, someone recognized Deanna, and by extension me, and people started turning round, and filming us with phone cameras.

Deanna looked at me and gave a brave little smile. She was so nervous, I could tell.

"Are you... ok?" she asked. Or yelled, rather, since it was so loud.

I looked at her sympathetically, and nodded, then yelled back, "Can we go somewhere? Just talk, you and I?"

She smiled wider, and nodded, and up we got, dropping our garbage in a bin on the way out.

Since we left early, we got out of the parking lot easily, and traffic was somewhat light.

We ended up at a bar on Lincoln, called Irish Eyes. It had been an old hangout of Deanna's, years ago. She'd dated the bar keep there, but he was a major league asshole, cheating on her incessantly, and she'd kicked him to the curb. It was somewhat ironic for the conversation we were about to have.

So there we were, another beer in front of me, a diet coke for her, since she was driving.

And it was time, for the conversation we'd both been avoiding.

"So, um, yeah. Now you know why you had to trust me. It was...something I had to do."

"I get it, Deanna, I honestly do. I have no idea how you persuaded them though. That GM guy at Wrigley field was pisssssed at me. How did you do it?"

She shrugged. "Well, a five thousand dollar donation to the 'cubs on the move' charity, for a start, plus I had to arrange for some of the models I use for the conventions to show up at a party they are throwing later this year. All standard stuff, really. Throw enough pretty girls at a problem and it usually gets solved."

"Jesus. Five grand? That's a lot."

"Well," she said, taking my hand in hers across the table, "I had to do it. I explained to you about how I had those tasks set, to make you at least want to try and trust me. There were the diaries, our family playing Frisbee golf together, there was me working for you, the trip to Vegas, and finally, this. I had to get at you on all fronts. The last one was about me humiliating myself in front of everyone. It had to be big to be sure you got the point, and well, it seemed fitting."

We both took a drink, and then the question came.

"So. How am I doing? Where do we go from here, Ryan?"

I sucked on my teeth, then took her hands in mine, and said what needed to be said.

"Deanna, I'm grateful for everything you've done. It's been nothing short of amazing. I mean, seriously, all you've done, the strength of character you've shown... I should be amazed and in some ways I am, and in some ways I'm not. This just goes to show that you are the women I thought you were."

Now the hard part.

"But, there is no future for us."

I'd laid it out there. I heard her gasp and clench my hands.

"What? But..."

"Deanna... Deanna... please. Let me explain. There is no future for us. But there is a future for you."

"I...I don't..." she was shaking and gasping and pulled her hands away from me.

"Take a drink Deanna. Let me explain it."

She did so and I launched into it.

"The thing is, I've been holding back, and you know it. You've been very careful to avoid pushing me. Even with that message, you asked me to forgive you, not take you back. That's quite telling. But that's what all this is about Deanna. You think it's about getting me to trust you again, with the end game of our lives returning to some semblance of what they were. But they can't. That life is gone now. It was smashed, beyond repair. I'm not going to labor how or why – we both know that. But it IS gone. There are no white picket fences to come back to."

Deanna looked down and said, in a very small voice, "I know."

Then she looked up, and said, more forcefully, "But the therapist, James, said we could forge a new relationship. Make a new one, not the same as the old one."

"Yes, he said the same to me, when I went to see him the few times I did. But it's not as simple as that Deanna. There's more you need to understand though."

I took a deep breath and plowed on.

"The thing is, I think you've lost sight of 'the why' of what you are doing. You are so focused on trying to get us back together, because that's what you decided you had to do in the height of the emotion, when we...split up." I tried to put it as diplomatically as possible. Saying "When I dumped your cheating ass" wouldn't have helped anyone at that precise moment.

"You are so focused on how to get us back in the same place, with me wanting to trust you, you haven't really considered if that's where I want to be. Or, even if that's where you want to be either. You think you do, because you had a life you loved, even if it wasn't enough to stop you from doing what you did. But the reality is that both of us have moved on in a way. You have you little support group to help, your job, and a life. You've made the best out of what you have, and it's been great. You've expanded your life, become more than you were, and that's great. No, seriously, it is. I'm impressed and proud."

I took another deep breath.

"And then there's Trey."

She looked puzzled. "What about Trey? I told you about him. He's my...secret weapon."

"No, Deanna, he's your secret crush."

"WHAT?" she screeched. "No he ISN'T? How can you think that?"

"How can I think that? Deanna, how many times have you had dinner with him in the past two months?"

I could see her actually trying to work it out, in a desperate attempt to put me in my place and disprove my statement. Eventually she came to a conclusion.

"About...fifteen, I think. Give or take a few."

"Right. Fifteen. How many times have we had dinner?"

She paled when I asked that. I could see that when she was working out the number of dinners with Trey, this had already occurred to her.

"About...ten," she said, in a very small voice.

"Right. Ten. Ok, so one third more with Trey."

"But we didn't do anything Ryan. You HAVE to believe me. It was strictly platonic," she spoke fast, desperately.

"Oh I'm sure it was, sort of. On your side. I had a visit from Trey a few weeks ago. I've been trying to work out what to do about this for a while. Todays event, well, it kinda pushed it all into the fore, you know?"

"What??" she said, astonished yet again.

"Yeah, he came to see me, in my office. Had a nice little rant about me not being grateful enough about what you'd been doing for me. The man is one hundred percent in love with you Deanna. Can't you see that?"

She stared at the table, with that stunned expression people have when a truth they'd never suspected is revealed to them.

"In...love? With me?" she whispered.

"Oh yes. And what's more, I think you are more than a bit sweet on him, too."

She looked sharply at me and said, "No, he's just a friend. He's been very... helpful."

"A friend who you went to dinner at a charity event with, yes? At five hundred dollars a plate. You never even asked me, Deanna."

"I was just trying to be nice. Our first date was at the dinner, the year before."

"Our First date! Listen to you Deanna. If that was your first date, what was the evening you spent with him, all dolled up and dancing all night?" I wasn't trying to be a dick, but I had to get through to her.

"I was... I..." she was starting to get it.

"Deanna," I said, softly. "I'm not pissed. I'm not angry. The thing is, I've held myself back from all this a fair bit. I had no idea why I was doing it, but it's because I'm terrified of being hurt again. I needed my armor, and it turns out I was right to do so. I'm not even that mad at you, to be honest. I don't really think you are even aware of what you've been doing, or your own thinking. I think you've been so focused on this whole set of tasks, you haven't even been thinking about your life beyond it."

I stopped and took a drink. I was parched. Talking too much sucks. As did everything about this situation.

"I honestly believe you thought that you were doing everything you said you were. I don't think anything physical happened with him. I get that you were focused on us. But there are more than just physical affairs. Last time it was all sex, right? No feeling? This time it's all feeling and no sex. This time it's emotional, no sexual. Yet. I dare say you'd have got there in the end. But this time, I also don't think you even realize what you were doing, which is why I'm not pissed off or ripping anyone's lives apart. Been there, done that, got the Tshirt."

But I think you were doing all of this – with me - for different reasons than you thought you were. My armchair psychologist take on this is that what you really need is forgiveness, from me. You can't go forward without it. Look at what's happened. Until today at Wrigley, you hadn't even asked me for forgiveness – you even talked about it in your video and your diaries, and you've mentioned it several times. You said it was because you didn't think you deserved it, but that wasn't it at all, was it? What you needed was to believe that you deserved it and for me to offer it, without you having to ask. Because then it's meant. It's deserved. And that's what you need, and that's what all this has been about, at root. And today, you realized I was ready to give forgiveness and your asking for it as you did was really letting me have the chance to offer it."

I took another drink. Deanna just sat there, staring at me.

"Oh I dare say on some level you'd like our life as it was back. I would too. But it's not there to have back. I would never trust you the way I did before, I'm sorry to say. And that's probably more my problem than yours, because I think you probably are trust worthy now. You've learned the cost of what you did, and I think you'd know that going in now. But...I just can't see it."

There was silence for a moment, and then she said, "All that... stuff, with Trey. How do you know?"

"I met Mae."

She looked up at me, a scowl on her face. "Mae told you all those things?"

"Don't blame her, Deanna. She wants what's best for you. That's one canny old bird. She picks up on way more than you think. She told me how much you talk about me, us, our family. But she also pointed out how much time you are spending with Trey. And when he came to see me and pounded on my desk... well. The thing is Deanna, people don't just fall in love with you by sitting next to you at the movies. They have to have something to fall in love with. And you gave it to him. That denotes closeness... and this was all going on when you were supposed to be giving all your attention to us. But, in reality Trey – not me- became your best male friend. Deanna, maybe our history makes it impossible to really start anew and we know we can't go back. We do love each other. I know that. And we have so much history and we have the kids. And we are so sexually compatible. But we aren't perfect for each other. What happened did happen and neither of us can ever completely forget it. We are better than we were and I am so glad that you tried and that we developed A new relationship. But its not – it can't be – THE new relationship wither of us needs. WE both deserve to have it all, and neither of us can be it ALL for each other any more. And your very close friendship with Trey, that grew as you tried to be it ALL for me, shows that as much as anything.

More silence. She took a drink of diet coke, still looking down at the table, more to have something to do with her hands than anything I think.

"I love you Ryan," she said softly.

"I know Deanna. I love you too. But we are done romantically. And I think you know it too. But like I said, I think you have a future. And I think you need to go and find it. Find out if Trey can be "IT ALL" for you. We will always be here, me and the kids. We aren't going anywhere, and if the past couple of months have proved, we can at least get along now, and be co-parents. We can be friends."

She looked up from the table and met my eyes. She had tears streaming down her face.

"I will always love you. But... I think you may be right. When I look at all you've said...I dunno what to think. But you are right. I'm so sorry for hurting you again Ryan. I would never do that intentionally, please, you have to believe that."

"I know Deanna," I said softly. I was more upset at seeing her cry than I was about my feelings. "I know. And it's ok. You didn't hurt me. You helped me. I am better able to deal with what happened and move on. And if I don't have my wife back, I do have my friend back and our family is in a better place. I'm not in the state where I was the last time. Ok? I'm still around, and so are the kids, and nothing has changed in that regard. You are still welcome for dinner any time, and I hope we are welcome at yours."

I got a slim, tearful smile.

"And Deanna? For what it's worth, you are forgiven. I don't really think you need it, but for what it's worth, I'm not going to hold onto the bitterness and bile. I need to go forward too. So I hope it's what you need. You have the forgiveness you need, for whatever you need it for."

Deanna jumped up, came round the table, and hugged me, hard. I got one last kiss, and she left.

And I drank my beer and realized that, once again, I was in the city, alone, with no ride home. And I cried. Silently. For me, this time.

Oh well, time for Uber I guess.

*****

Trey scowled with annoyance at the insistent ringing of the doorbell. He was at a tricky part with the recipe in front of him. He had to watch the bread mix rise and judge when it was high enough before pushing it into the oven to bake. He'd been experimenting with adding sugars and honey to the mix, to give a slightly sweet bread.