Many Conversations

"It would be nice if my kids at least still had some feelings for me. I wasn't invited to my daughter's wedding, I wasn't even told about it until after the fact, and they call my ex's new wife 'mom' on facebook. They don't call me anything, because we never talk. As if that isn't enough, to cap it all off, while Rittenhouse here destroyed my life, I'd still jump at the chance for another weekend with him."

"So, Jill, that's what could await you if you want your little dalliance with this guy. You probably know your husband well enough know if he would grudgingly accept it, but make sure that's not just you wishfully fantasizing how you would like him to respond to this." She paused, looked at me, then back at Jill. "Now, do you have something you wanted to say to your loving husband?"

There was a long, awkward pause, Jill looked down at the floor, back at Tori, then back at Kyle, and then right at me.

"Jim, ... I don't feel well. Could you take me home?"

I took her elbow and walked straight for the door. As I turned, I saw Kyle's scowl. Since no one else was talking, I could hear Dr. Adams suggest that she'd be happy to keep Kyle's bed warm, followed by a slap and a collective gasp. Jill and I marched to the coat check, collected my plain overcoat and her fine fur, and gave our ticket to the carpark valet in silence.

Once we were en route home, I finally broke the silence.

"Jill, what was going on there? It certainly looked like the two of you were starting to get intimate, and that wasn't the kind of kiss you should be giving a near stranger."

"Jim, I, ... I don't know what to say."

"How about the truth. Would you have left with him, slept with him?"

"Why would you ask me that?"

"You heard Dr. Black's awful little tale. She told me more than that about your seducer. So?"

"I, well, I, ...."

"Spit it out, woman. What were you going to tell me when you walked up to me? Go on, say it."

"Well, I was going to introduce you to Kyle, and then ask if it was all right with you if I spent the weekend with him. I was going to offer you the, ...."

"I'm sorry, but what the ever loving fuck were you thinking? A weekend fling with some Lothario you just met? Do our marriage vows mean that little to you?"

"No, I love you, Jim, I just,..."

"Stop. There's no way you could finish that sentence with any words that wouldn't put the lie to the first part. Is this what you think of me, of us, of ...."

"No, it's not like that. I was going to suggest that you could have a fling too, that we could maybe make this part of our marriage."

"Seriously, do you honestly believe that I would go along with that? Really? Have you actually met me?"

"I realize now that was, well, naive of me to think you might ...."

"Naive? Try idiotic. That charlatan had you so wrapped around his little finger that you couldn't even see what you know to be true. So, suppose you had asked me for your little fling, and I said 'No.' What would you do then? Would you tell Kyle that it was off, or would you have gone with him anyway, if you hadn't heard Tori's horror story. Or would you have left with me, and then hooked up with him on the sly?"

"No, I'm not like that, I ...."

"I thought you were the kind of wife who wouldn't ask her husband for an open marriage, but I guess I was wrong about that. What else don't I know about you?"

"Look, Jim, this has been a shitty night. I don't want to talk about this anymore, I feel awful."

"Well, that's two of us. But I don't know if we'll get through this or not."

"Jesus, Jim. Nothing happened. Let's move on."

"Ummm, no. Something happened. You gave another man a passionate, sexual kiss, in a public place, where many people, including me, could see you. You considered asking me if you could have sex with him. That's not nothing, that's a huge fucking something."

"Jim, stop it. I don't want to talk about it."

"Fine, we won't talk about it. I'll contact a lawyer on Monday."

"Don't you dare."

"Funny, that's what I should have said to you if you had actually asked me if you could spend the weekend with that rat bastard."

"Jim, just shut up and drive. Seriously. I can't do this now."

"If not now, then when?"

"I don't know. Just, please, I'm begging you, stop it now."

I acquiesced to her request to stop talking, and got us home in record time. I slept in the guest bedroom that night, and the next. We didn't speak at all for the rest of the weekend.

Monday morning, I got up and got ready to go to work. She was in the kitchen, and had my breakfast laid out on the table. Usually she was off on her way to work before I finished showering.

"Sit. Eat," Jill ordered me. I did. She sat down across from me.

"Jim, you're right. I fucked up, bigtime, and I'm so very, very sorry. Tell me what you need from me now."

"An apology is a good start. I'll get back to you on the rest."

Marital counseling was critical. I yelled a lot, she cried a lot, she apologized a lot. We dug deeper and tapped into her fears about aging, her business success, her loss of her parents and her sibling and her regrets about not spending more time with them while they were alive. She started individual therapy as well, which was a big help for her, and the marital sessions became much more productive once she got a handle on the baggage she was carrying.

Are we good now? Sure, good, I suppose, but not great. She waltzed up to the precipice of killing our marriage, and but for a few words here or a sentence there, she might have jumped into it willingly. They say that having a near death experience heightens one's appreciation of life. But for our marriage, I think this was an injury that, while it won't kill it, will never heal fully.

- - - - -

So that's how it might play out if Tori had enough spine to step up and share her truth.Of course, maybe she said all that for a slim chance at another weekend with Kyle.Now let's change it up a bit.Rewind, to when Jill asks Jim to meet Kyle.

- - - - -

From behind me came, "Jim, honey, I want you to meet someone." Her voice was cracking as she said it. I guess shitting all over a 25 year marriage is stressful.

Then my blood ran cold as I realized the next words Jill was going to say before she said them.

"And Jim, I'm calling in the marker."

Kyle looked at her oddly, and Tori stared at her for a moment before asking, "The marker?"

"Yes, the marker," Jill continued. "Jim and I always wanted three kids. The first was fairly normal as these things go, but the second was a nightmare pregnancy. Complications from the beginning, all kinds of hormonal issues, water weight gain, some hair loss, I looked like a bag lady, and my lady bits looked like they had been pounded by a hammer. By the second month, the doctors told us no sex, and I was mostly bedridden for the last two trimesters. We both agreed this would be our last, even if we had another girl."

"It was late in the seventh month, I had several hours where I felt somewhat human, Jim was out late that night, and I thought about how hard it must have been for him to support me through all of this. I decided to do something nice for him, to let him know how much I appreciated his support. He walked in the door that night, and I immediately got down on my knees in front of him, unzipped his fly, and started giving him head. He said no, not now, it was too much stress for me, but I would not be denied, I was going to take care of my man.

It took him longer than usual to get hard, to come, and the volume of semen was much less than I was used to. There was also a strange taste to his cock, and just after he came, I put it all together - he tasted like pussy. I glared up at him with hate in my eyes. Seeing my face, he figured out that I knew. I could see the guilt on his face, and then I passed out. I found out he cheated because I literally tasted it on his cheating prick."

"Afterwards, he was apologetic, he cut off the affair immediately, he supported me throughout the rest of the pregnancy, and we worked through it, but as part of my committing to not leave him, we agreed that I could have a marker, that I could use in the future. We raised our kids, built our careers, and here we are. Well, Jim, that future is tonight and I'm calling in the marker. Kyle and I are spending the weekend together. I'll see you Sunday night when I get home, let's say around seven in the evening. Cook something nice for us to eat. And remember, no repercussions, that's what you promised."

With that, Jill and Kyle waltzed out of the event, arm in arm, every eye in the place upon them, well, mostly her. I think some of the women there wanted to give her a 'You go, girl!' shoutout. Me, I wanted to crawl into a hole. Tori finally spoke.

"Well, that's a new one. Sucks to be you."

Sunday night, promptly at seven, Jill returned home to find no Jim, no dinner, just a handwritten letter on the kitchen table.

* * *

Jill,

It seems that the sins of the past have finally caught up to me. I remain sorry for my affair during your time of need, and it remains a deep source of shame for me. You had every right to call in the marker, and have a fling with whomever you wanted. I deserved that.

However, when I was weak, I did all I could to protect you from that. I never wanted to hurt you. I wish I had been stronger, could have resisted the temptation, endured the abstinence, and fully honored my marriage vows. But aside from that weakness, I tried to protect you from harm, to not hurt you.

Then, to my amazement, you forgave me, and we moved forward, raising our kids, building our careers. You were my angel of forgiveness, and every day I considered how lucky I was to have a wife who could put aside my transgression and love me fully, flawed though I was. Every day I strived to be worthy of my angel, to do right by her, to love her as fully as she loved me. And now I see that was all nothing but an illusion.

You forgave me because it was better for the kids -- you've hinted at that many times. You built your awesome career not with me, but to spite me, to be able to stand on your own without me. You never really forgive me, instead you took the pain I caused you, buried it deep inside, hiding it away, all the while knowing that you would eventually even the scales. I had hoped that your marker was just something to scare me, to remind me that two could play that game, but that you had truly forgiven me and would never actually use it. How wrong I was.

I was weak, and tried not to hurt you because of my weakness, but I failed there too. You were strong, and you used that strength to cause me pain, with deliberation and malice, in the most public way you could. It would have been easy to whisper in my ear that you were calling in the marker, and leave with your future lover. Instead you had to lay the whole story bare to everyone, publicly. I tried not to hurt you despite my weakness. You used your strength to hurt me as much as you could.

Knowing that what I thought we had was an illusion, I can no longer be your husband. Have a good life.

* * *

Searching the house, Jill found that while most of Jim's clothes were still in the closet, his passport, car title, important papers, and laptop were all missing. She dialed his phone, to find that the number was no longer in service. She hoped he would relent and contact her, but deep down she knew he would not.

Thirteen months later, I'm sitting in my favorite little cantina on Sugarloaf Key, about as far from the bulk of civilization as I can get. ConCor has let me work remotely for the last year, and I'm alone and, if not content, at least working towards finding a measure of solace. The pain of my wife's betrayal is fading, but the pain of my causing it has not. Juan's shrimp jambalaya is delicious, and the lager with it tames the heat just the right amount. As I finish the last spoonful of rice, from behind me I hear a voice I haven't heard in over a year.

"You're a hard man to find, Jim."

I don't look up, there's no point. "Maybe I don't want to be found." She ignored my words and sat down opposite me. "Juan, check, please," I called out.

As Juan ambled over, she took the bill from his hand, saying "I got this."

"Great. Thanks for the dinner." I started to stand up to leave.

"But only if you stay and talk to me."

"I've nothing to say."

"I know. You said it all in your letter, very eloquently."

"Fine. Now we've talked. Pay the man, I'm leaving." I again started to stand up.

"Jim Michaels, after twenty five years, you at least owe me a conversation. Please sit down."

"Well, as long as you said please." I sit. "So why haven't you signed off on the divorce?"

"Maybe I don't want a divorce."

"My attorney, wait, did he tell you where I am?"

"Nope. It took a lot of legwork and a small army of private detectives."

"A bad investment."

"We'll see about that."

"So, what is it that you need to say, or for me to say, so that you'll sign off on the divorce and leave me in peace. Just say it, and we'll get it over with and go our separate ways."

"Jim, I'm sorry. You were right. You nailed it in your goodbye letter. I was bitter and angry with you, and felt that our marriage was one sided in that I gave you a freebie. Every day it hurt me a little, despite how good you were afterwards. And you were good, so very good. All my friends and colleagues were jealous that I had such an attentive, caring, and supportive husband."

"Then, that fateful night at the gala, Kyle homed in on me, started flirting, suggested a torrid little affair over the weekend, and I dismissed it. He asked me if I was sure that you had never had an affair, and then the dam broke, and the old feelings all boiled out. He drew the story out of me, listened, sympathized with me, and, looking at his conversation in hindsight, steered me right to where he wanted me, to a place where you were a cheating bastard, not the wonderful man you have become. At that point, I was so worked up at you I would have hit you if I thought I could get away with it. Instead I stupidly did what I thought was the next best thing, but in hindsight, was much crueler to you. I'm so sorry. I should have never slept with him, and I should have never humiliated you like that."

"Lovely. Feel better having gotten that off your chest? Am I dismissed now?"

"No, and stop it. I've had over a year to realize what I lost, what we lost, what we had together. It sickens and pains me every day. That's why I left no stone unturned to find you. That's why I came down here, and that's why I'm not leaving here without you."

"And suppose I choose not to leave here with you."

"Then I'm staying here too."

"Aw fucknuts. My own personal stalker. Look, I'm done here. Hope I don't see you around." I started to rise, but Jill grabbed my wrist and pushed me back down into the chair."

"Fine, be that way. But first, look me in the eye and tell me, truthfully, that you don't miss what we had. That you don't wish you could turn back time and rewrite the events of that fateful night so we don't end up here, sweating and arguing in this little crab shack."

I look up at her. "Truthfully, yes. I miss it every day. And I hate you for forcing me to end it."

Jill smiled back at me, beaming. She knew that smile slayed me, and I suspect that she was thinking exactly that as she smiled at me. "So do I, Jim. I miss it every day, and I hate me for forcing you to end it." She paused. She looked down at the table, and then back up at me. "But there is a way out of this, for both of us." Still holding my wrist, she got up, walked around the table, and got down on her knees, in front of me, on the ratty rustic floorboards in the cantina, certainly staining and possibly ruining her white capri pants. I hadn't noticed before, but as I glanced around, it was clear that we now had the attention of everyone in the room. The cantina was silent until she spoke again.

"Jim, I will be eternally sorry that I humiliated you like that. I recognize that for over two decades, you were the best husband a woman could have, and I'm ashamed that I forgot it in that moment. And now, I ask you to please forgive me. I was your angel for twenty years, now it's your turn. Be my forgiving angel, let me prove to you how sorry I am, how much I love you, and how I can be my best self with your support and love."

I stared at her. Well, fuck, I thought. She nailed it. And then the dam broke for me. All the hatred, well, it didn't vanish, but it dissipated a lot, and the love I felt for her came back, as strong as ever. I wasn't sure what to say, how to answer that, but I'm sure something in me let my feelings show, maybe my eyes. I couldn't find words, and then Jill spoke again.

"Jim, we're just two imperfect beings trying to navigate this chaotic world. We can spend the rest of our days doing that together, or doing it alone. Give me the chance and I will be worthy of your forgiveness, so we can be each other's angels, every day and every night."

I looked down at her, a tear welled up in my eye, and I tried to say, 'Okay', but nothing came out. She read my lips, smiled again, and asked me "What?"

"Sure," I replied, finally finding my voice. "Let's try it together."

The whole place erupted in cheers. I helped Jill back to her feet, and she wrapped her arms around me so tightly I struggled to breathe. When she finally let go, I walked over to the bar with her in tow.

"Juan, a bottle of the Concha y Toro Carminere, and a bottle of RRG, please." He looked at me funny, then placed two bottles of wine on the bar, one with a bulbous base and cheap wicker around the bottom. He removed the corks, then took the check from Jill's hand.

"Tonight this is on me, as well as the wine. Now get out of here, you two, or the regulars will want a floor show every night." We left, and she headed towards what I guessed was her rental car, but I stopped her.

"My place isn't far. Let's walk."

"Lead on."

I passed her the bulbous bottle. "This is yours, drink up." I took a swig of my nice Chilean wine, and she took a swig of hers.

"Yag, this stuff is awful!" she exclaimed, making a contorted face. "What is it?"

"RRG, short for red rot gut. It's Juan's absolutely cheapest wine, he passes it off to drunks and kids who want to cop a drink."

"Why am I stuck with it. Can I share yours instead?"

"That's your penance. Drink it all, and I'll consider forgiving you."

She stopped, took a deep breath, put her left hand on my shoulder, put the bottle in her mouth, tilted her head back, and chugged the entire bottle.

"Voila," she replied, "And yecch." Then she burped. "Oops, sorry." I laughed. We walked on in silence for a few minutes, and then she stopped, and said, "Oooh, I ..., I think I'm going to be ...."

As she turned her head to the side and puked in some bushes,, I held her hair back. When she was done, she turned to me, wiped her mouth with her sleeve, and said, "I'm not drinking it again."

"Probably better out than in, I suppose." I don't know why, but that hit a nerve for her. She started giggling, then laughing uncontrollably, hysterically. After a few minutes, she stopped and kissed me deeply. I broke it off almost immediately.

"You taste like puke." She looked at me, grabbed my bottle, took a swig, swished it around in her mouth like mouthwash, then swallowed, and went back in for another kiss. I didn't break it off that time.

- - - - -

Yet another direction, and I again couldn't resist the subtle breaking of the fifth wall, talking about rewriting history.Let's see how it changes up next.

- - - - -

From behind me came, "Jim, honey, I want you to meet someone." Her voice was cracking as she said it. I guess shitting all over a 25 year marriage is stressful.