Rebuilding Harry Ch. 01

At that point, he woke up with a start. The room was dark, and when he finally got his bearings, he looked over at his wife, curled up and facing away from him. He breathed in and out steadily, before closing his eyes and trying desperately to bring back the dream.

He couldn't.

When Saturday came, he pretended to be sleeping as Trish got up and went about her morning routine. She had a shower, went for some breakfast, came back to the bedroom to brush her teeth and then apply some makeup, before Harry sensed her take one last look at the bed to make sure he was still asleep, leaving quickly thereafter. When he heard her car start, he lept into some clothes and ran to the front door, wanting to jump into the car and get going while she was still in his view but he was no longer in hers. While peaking out the front door as she backed out of the driveway in her red sportscar, he quickly threw on a cap and sunglasses, and as she pulled away he slowly opened the door to get ready to dash for the car. When he saw her turn the corner, he ran to his own sedan and got inside, hoping to catch up in time before she reached the main intersection that anybody leaving their part of the suburbs had to drive through. He was a little nervous as he got the car going that he was going to miss his chance, or that maybe she would turn back because she forgot something, but when he reached the corner and could see her car off in the distance going where he thought it would, he felt relieved.

Relieved, that is, until he realized she might have been on her way to a tryst with some stranger. At that point, the quivering feeling in his gut that he'd set aside for the week began to grow, as if taking revenge for having been repressed for all that time. He fought it down as best he could, reminding himself that he didn't have the whole story yet. For all he knew, this might be the first time. She might not even go through with it.

When her car turned a corner again, he marked it and took off to follow her, and when he got to that corner, he found he could predict where she was going next. She did seem to be following the path to the town's tennis courts, but she hadn't dressed for it or taken any of her gear with her. A couple of times he thought he lost her when a red light didn't go his way or when another car took too long at an intersection, but when he resumed the path he thought she was taking, he found her car not too far out of reach. When, after ten minutes of following her, he saw her from a block away stop at the athletic complex where she was a member, he looked around to see if he could stop himself and wait for her next move. As it was, though, she was only there briefly, and the feeling in his gut flared when Harry saw a tall, masculine figure approach her car and enter the driver's side.

It took a second for him to regain his composure, but no sooner did she take off again that he accelerated to keep pace. Now would be the tricky part, since he had no idea where they could be going, and he would have to follow from a closer distance without being so close as to be detected. Part of him felt he couldn't pull it off, and almost went home out of dread of losing them - or worse, keeping pace with them - when the thought reemerged that this man and his wife had thought so little of him, both in his familiar answering machine message and her lack of shame in keeping it there to be found, compelled him to continue on.

It was a tricky negotiation, keeping pace with them, but finally, when the car pulled to a stop on a road in the nicest part of the Hellespont suburbs, where the richest rows of estates were, he realized that the moment of truth was ahead. He waited from a distance to see them leave the car and go into one of the bigger houses, before summoning up the courage to park a few houses down, and after a quick look around, turned off the engine and left the car. He came to a house neighbouring to the one they went into, and looked around to see if he could be detected, and then snuck into the backyard. There were plenty of bushes, and he was able to keep cover, and there were no cars in the driveway, so he was confident that he wouldn't be detected. Still, the dread in his gut remained.

He saw through one of the windows that they were very touchy-feely with each other, and instantly his gut started to grow numb at the confirmation of his worst fears. Still, he couldn't look away, and he was struck by how he was able to notice the details of it. The guy, for instance, was initiating much more contact than her.Perhaps she's already put off by him,Harry thought darkly, before he saw them go towards the rear of the house. He moved to get a better view, kneeling down in the middle of a couple of shrubs that shielded him pretty well from view, and the neighbourhood was so tranquil that as they went around to the far side of the pool and sat in the sun and when the man, Jack, finally spoke, it was as though it were happening five feet away.

"So what are you saying, Patricia? Come on, out with it." His tone of voice seemed disturbed. Harry felt a tiny thrill.

Trish didn't say anything, but sipped on her drink slowly and deliberately.

"Look, Patricia, I'm not that spineless husband of yours," he said. "If you've got something you want to say, I want to hear it. I haven't been taking you for granted like he has, you know. I deserve to know."

"Harold hasn't been taking me for granted," Trish said. "It's just..."

"Just what?" The man stood up and strode over to her, leaving his drink behind. "Stand up."

She glanced up at him with an amused look on her face. Harry felt a little surprised that anybody would dare command Trish to do anything. In all the time he'd known her, she didn't seem like the type to appreciate being bossed around. The few fights that Harry and Trish had were usually centered around him being too pushy, and because of that he'd long ago subdued the desire to control her.

But, to his surprise, she stood up, and as she did, Jack grabbed her around the waist. She leaned away from him, but didn't force his hands off.

"I just don't really want to continue all this, Jack," she said.

"Why not?" Jack asked. "Haven't I been good to you? Haven't we been electric together? I can't have been the only one sensing it when we fuck."

"No, no, that's been great..."

With that, Harry almost collapsed. The idea of Trish being intimate with another man was no longer an idea -- it was a reality. Suddenly he was cold inside, and his head was heavy. He felt tired, totally drained of energy. He felt himself listen to her continue to speak, but suddenly, none of it mattered anymore.

"...I just think that it's over. What we had was something I needed, sure, but I don't really need it anymore."

"How can you say that?" Jack asked angrily. He gripped her tightly.

"Easy, Jack, I know you'll have no trouble replacing me," she laughed, and she brought up one of her hands to his face, stroking his chin with the back of a fingernail.

"You bitch," he said. Harry felt a tiny surge of damaged pride. That was his wife this man had just insulted. Nothing could change that. No man could call a woman he loved a bitch.

And then she laughed. "I'll miss that fire you have, though."

No man could call her a bitch, except, apparently, for this man. And with that, the emptiness within him was complete.

"So that's it," Jack said.

"Yes, I think so," Trish said.

There was a pause, before Jack said, "How about one last romp? For old time's sake?"

She giggled. "It'll be nice to have something to remember you by." Her hands went down to grab his ass, and Jack's came up to begin undoing her blouse. Harry watched for a brief moment, seeing that emotion in her eye, of being flirted with and flirting back, a chemistry that he once knew but no longer did, and now he knew he no longer would. In his more sexually adventurous days, the idea of voyeurism in this fashion had a certain appeal to him, but this time, as they began to kiss, Harry wanted nothing to do with it. He turned and snuck back to the car.