Simple Choices

"No. You know that's not true. She let us all believe that she was 'A Woman of Virtue,' which made the rest of us women feel like a bunch of cheap whores."

I must have been tired or frustrated because in my right mind I would have never said what I did: "Well, in your case it was appropriate. You are a whore. You'd do anything for money."

That pissed her off. She said, "You don't know anything about me!"

I immediately regretted attacking her. I tried to calm her down by saying, "Look, this story is about a woman who kept a promise. That's all. It's not about me, and it's not about you. Any feelings you might have are your own. So, don't blame her."

"You're deluding yourself. She went on TV wearing a white dress and a Cinderella smile. She let us believe she was waiting in celibacy for that guy, and she let you believe that she was in love with you. It was all a big con."

I shook my head. "It was nothing like that."

The reporter laughed. "You believed that she was in love with you, didn't you? But she left you as soon as her hero returned, didn't she? How do you explain that?"

Something in my response must have betrayed my feelings. The reporter continued like a shark that had smelled blood in the water. "I bet she never actually said that she loved you. She just made you believe it was true."

On any other day, I would have just ignored her, but this was not a good day, and she was pushing all the right buttons.

"You think you're important to her, but you're not. You're just another guy that she deceived. Admit it. You're nobody to her. You're not worth mentioning. You're not even an asterisk in her record book."

Had I misread Debbie? Had she deliberately deceived me?

"Don't you want to set the record straight? Don't you want to tell the world what really happened?" She paused with her phone up near my mouth waiting for me to speak. After a moment she continued, "It's time for you to be a man. Stand up for yourself and put her in her place." She held the phone up close to my mouth. "Did she tell you why she left you? Did she tell you that he's better than you? Stronger than you? That he's more of a man than you are? Did she tell you that he makes her feel more like a woman than you do?"

"God damn. You are a fucking bitch."

"Ha! I may be a bitch, but you are a pussy." She poked her phone into my chest and said, "What do you have to say about that, pussy? Anything?" She poked me again and said, "Come on, defend yourself, pussy." After another poke: "Come on pussy, defend yourself."

I grabbed her hand with the phone and then flexed, forcing her to bend down. Her knees buckled and pain registered on her face.

"You're too much of a wimp to hurt me. Admit it, you're a fucking pussy-assed wimp. Your slut girlfriend dumped you, and you did nothing about it."

I was tempted to bitch-slap her senseless, but that wouldn't have played out well in the long run. I imagined the headlines: 'Jilted Boyfriend of #WomanOfVirtue Assaults Reporter.' That headline would be followed by, 'Not Virtuous After All!' My best option was to get the hell away from her. Without saying anything more, I let her go and retreated to my apartment.

She continued shouting at me from the street, "She just used you, like she used everybody else."

I double-bolted the door, grabbed a beer and dropped into thought. Had I completely misread Debbie? Could she possibly have been that manipulative? Was I really that gullible? But one question burned more than all the others: How important could I have possibly been to her if she'd never said she loved me? Not long ago I would have had the self-confidence to weather my storms of self-doubt, but I was no longer that strong.

A couple of days later the story popped up here and there on the Internet. It couldn't have been any less flattering about me; fortunately, it didn't go viral like the stories six months ago had. None of my friends even mentioned it.

***

I had a hard time keeping my self-esteem inflated after that. I turned to Yvonne for support, but she'd gotten involved with someone else. Even though I hadn't thought of her as much more than a friend with benefits, it sent me into a deep blue funk. I tried to rally by hanging out with friends and making sure I wasn't lingering around the house when I could have been doing anything else. I hooked up with a bunch of random women and drank a load of beer.

In the middle of my funk, I received a letter from Debbie. I assumed it was some kind of bullshit apology or feeble explanation of what happened with the Wild Bunch. Why did she insist on explaining everything to me, and why couldn't she just tell me the truth? All she needed to say was that she was moving on. No need to sugar coat it with all of her fancy excuses. She must have thought I was a dope to believe all of that shit anyway. Fuck. What kind of bullshit is 'hardwired to honor her commitments,' anyway? It must be the kind of crap that a sucker like me believes Rather than open the letter and read her contrived explanation, I stowed it with the bills and unfiltered junk mail on my desk.

My gut was still churning with resentment when I went out to lunch with Stan. He'd wanted to talk about something, but I spent the whole time venting. He tried to interrupt me a couple of times. He even tried to defend Debbie by telling me that I was blowing everything out of proportion, but I didn't let him change the subject. I said, "Please spare me your advice. I just need you to listen. Can you do that? Can you be a friend this one time?"

After that he just listened and nodded.

***

A couple of weeks after that Stan called to say, "I've cooked up a big pot of chili. Pick up some beer, come over and help me eat it."

From the way he'd talked I assumed it would just be the two of us, but Michelle answered the door and invited me in. I put the beer in the fridge and apologized, "I would have picked up some wine if I'd known you were here."

Michelle replied, "We've got plenty of wine. Go sit down in the dining room while we finish up here."

Stan was putting the finishing touches on his chili. He looked over his shoulder and said, "Yeah, go talk to Debbie. I'll be done here in a second."

Oh fuck. I wasn't prepared to see Debbie. I consciously collected myself and went into the dining room. Debbie was wearing a blouse that looked like the one I'd ripped off of her months ago. Her hair was freshly styled, and her lips were colored in the shade of red that I liked the most. I hated pretending to be happy when she was with Jeff, doing it when she looked so fucking hot was going to be unbearable.

She stood up, hugged me and said, "Hey stranger!"

"Wow, you look great." I think I sounded like I was holding it together, but my stomach was a tight knot in my throat.

"Thanks. I'm always this beautiful," she said with an impish grin.

I chuckled at her joke and said, "No, today you look particularly beautiful." I looked around for a moment then asked, "Where's Jeff?"

As we took our seats, she asked, "Didn't you get my letter?"

"Yeah, but I haven't read it."

"Why not? Are you too busy to read a letter from me?" She feigned offense.

"I meant to, but I haven't been able to work up the courage."

She looked at me sideways. "You need courage to read a letter?"

I shook my head. "You wouldn't understand."

Her eyes engaged mine. "Try me."

I didn't want to get into this with her, but I couldn't stop myself from saying, "Every time I hear from you I spend the rest of the day thinking about what I should have done differently."

She nodded somberly and said, "I know what you mean."

I scoffed at her. "It seems to me that everything is falling into place for you. You look happy, and you're obviously in love with Jeff."

Debbie laughed awkwardly. "What makes you think that?"

"You do so many things for him that you would never have done for me."

"Like what?"

"For someone who was honor bound to keep her commitments, you sure broke a lot of the promises you made to Kimberly; you would have never done that for me."

"And you think that means I love him?"

"It's obvious, and look at how you're dressed; you never dressed like that for me."

She tilted her head and smiled. "I can remember dressing like this for you."

"Yeah, on that last night, but you never went out with me like that."

"And you think I'm doing this for him?"

I turned to look for Jeff, "Yeah, where is he?"

"You really didn't read the letter, did you?"

Debbie and Stan interrupted us with bowls of chili, grated cheese, and other fixings. We all savored the chili and then sang its praise while Stan soaked up our acclaim.

After a few spoonfuls of chili, Debbie said, "Doug hasn't read the letter."

Stan looked at Michelle and said, "I told you."

Michelle looked to me and said, "Why not?"

Stan answered for me, "Because he's tired of being shit on." He clasped his hands at his cheek, looked up to the sky, batted his eyes and in a feminine voice said, "Oh, I love you so much, but I need to be with this other guy."

I shook my head and said, "You have no idea how funny that isn't."

Debbie looked at me in dead seriousness, "You know I had to do it right?"

"THAT ISN'T THE FUCKING POINT!" yelled Stan. "Just because you proved your virtue to God and the whole damned internet doesn't make it any less painful for Doug. You'll be seriously fucking lucky if he has a kind word for you after this."

Debbie looked from Stan to Michelle to me as we all sat in silence.

I asked, "What happened to Jeff?"

"We broke up a few weeks ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." The words came out before I realized how ridiculous they sounded.

"I think it's for the best. We really didn't know one another when we got engaged, and once Jeff began to work his way through the trauma he realized that I wasn't the right one for him."

Stan interrupted her, "Jesus Christ, Debbie, tell him the truth. If anyone deserves to know what happened, it's Doug."

Debbie exhaled and said, "After that dinner with Yvonne, Jeff found out that you and I had been living together. He was furious. He'd believed all the crap the press had written about me. He was angry that I'd deceived him and that you had, well, you know... We were fighting all the time anyway, but after that he hunted Yvonne down on Facebook and hooked up with her just to spite me, well, to spite both of us. Now he's back in North Carolina."

"And now Debbie thinks she can put on some makeup, squeeze into a sexy outfit and waltz back into your life," said Stan.

"STANLEY!!" Michelle hit him on the shoulder.

Stan was undeterred. He held up a clenched fist and said, "You need to cling to that resentment and bitterness that's burning inside you. Let it fester for a good long time. Let it turn you into a cesspool of ill-will and bad-intentions. That way you can say petty, mean things to Debbie every time you see her and go out of your way to make both of your lives as miserable as possible. Of course, you could just accept what happened as a couple of flawed people doing the best they could and move on, but who would want to do that when you can be miserable for the rest of your life?"

Michelle looked to gauge my reaction, while Debbie gave me a weak smile.

I stirred the chili as I put my thoughts together. I wasn't some dolt in need of a lesson in pop psychology. I said, "Those aren't the only two options. I could also get on with my life. I could find another woman, or I could..."

Stan interrupted, "Oh yeah, cut-and-run, I forgot to mention that one. You could also swear off women for good or join the French Foreign Legion. You've got a lot of good options."

"Well, the point is that I've got options and I don't need to make up my mind now."

"Of course not." He rubbed his clenched fist against his gut and said, "You got time to give those negative thoughts a chance to fester before you decide."

I looked to Stan and asked, "So, you think I should just swallow my pride and forget everything that's happened?"

"Maybe you missed the memo; pride isn't a virtue. You can cling to it if you want, but, if you want to be happy, you have to let it go."

I shook my head. "It's not that easy."

"Nobody said it was going to be easy. Nobody said you'd be happy. Nobody promised you anything. If you want something, you have to fight for it." Stan was on a roll, and he kept going, but his rant left Michelle, Debbie and me shifting in our seats while we gave each other awkward glances.

At a pause in Stan's monolog, Debbie redirected the conversation by saying, "The fresh onions and cheese set the chili off."

I followed her lead and said, "Yeah, and the sourdough's good too. Thanks for having me over, but I should probably be going." I was overwhelmed, uncomfortable and I'd had enough of Stan's advice, so I stood to leave.

"Don't let Stan chase you away," Michelle protested. "We've got key lime pie for dessert."

I looked to Debbie, "Did you make the pie?"

She smiled hopefully and nodded. "Why don't you go in the living room and relax while I get you a piece."

Michelle said, "I'll get the pie. You go sit with him." She turned to her husband and said, "Stanley, come with me."

As Debbie led me from the table, she said, "I'm sorry about the ambush in there, but I didn't have a lot of options. You wouldn't let me call you, you never called me, and you hadn't responded to the letter, so, well, the rest is history."

"Next time I'll read the letter."

She laughed as she led me to the couch and sat me down next to her. "There isn't going to be a next time."

"You're right about that." I probably sounded harsher than I intended, but one way or another she was right.

Michelle brought in two pieces of pie, made a second trip with coffee and then retreated to the kitchen to occupy Stan.

Debbie's key lime pie was my favorite; it was sweet with just the right tartness to balance it out. I ate a couple of bites in silence then said, "I've missed your pie."

"Is that all you missed?"

"Yeah, that's pretty much the only thing. The pie and the sex. Just those two things, the pie, the sex and the companionship. Just those three things."

She smiled at my lame humor. "You didn't miss my dry wit?"

"Nope. I didn't miss that at all."

We both laughed then simultaneously sipped our coffee.

"Did you miss anything?" I asked.

"Oh, yes. I missed waking up next to someone who cared for the real me. I didn't realize how good it made me feel until I'd lost it."

I shook my head. "I have trouble believing that. You seemed happy to me, and you did things for him that you would never have done for me."

"You mean things like breaking promises to Kim? I would never have done that for you because you would have never asked me to. You were never that selfish."

I wasn't convinced. "Well, maybe, but maybe I need to be more selfish. Maybe you were selfish when you left me."

Debbie shifted in her seat. "At the time I thought I was doing the right thing."

I shook my head. "Why did you act like I was nobody? It was like you couldn't erase me from your life fast enough."

Debbie was at a loss for words. After a long pause, she said, "You were never a nobody."

"It didn't feel that way."

"I'm sorry about that."

I didn't want to talk about it anymore. Our pie was gone, and we were nearing the bottom of our coffee cups. We weren't going to resolve this in one evening, so I said, "I should probably get going before I say something I regret."

"Me too," said Debbie as she stood up. She collected the pie plates, while I gathered the coffee cups and saucers, and then we carried them into the kitchen where Michelle and Stan were quietly chatting.

I said, "I'm going to take off."

Michelle looked from me to Debbie who shrugged. Michelle asked, "Would you mind giving Debbie a ride home?"

I laughed, "You don't have your car?"

Debbie shook her head.

"Boy, you guys pulled out all the stops on this forced reconciliation, didn't you?"

I'd intended to be funny, but Debbie didn't take it that way. She said, "Don't worry about it. I can get an Uber."

I said, "No, it's alright. I'll give you a ride."

***

As we drove, she asked, "Are you dating anyone?"

"I don't know if you'd call it dating, it's more like hooking up."

"Is there any woman in particular that I should know about?"

"I can't tell you that. You know, for her safety."

She smiled. "Yeah, that's probably smart. That way I won't be tempted to gouge her eyes out."

I was quiet for a few moments, then said, "Is that what I should have done with Jeff, gouged his eyes out?"

She became serious again. "No, we need to forget about that."

After that, we rode in silence.

Once I'd brought the car to halt she said, "I've got an apology prepared; would you like to come in and hear it?"

"No, I don't think that's necessary. I believe you're sorry."

"So is that it for us? Are we finished?"

"I don't know. I want to move on, and I want to be happy, but there's this thing in my gut that burns for justice. You know, something to reclaim my pride."

"Why don't you to come inside so we can talk about it."

I slowly shook my head.

"Listen to me. You are too smart to cling to that bitterness that's burning inside of you, and you know me too well to doubt my feelings for you. Sooner or later, you are going to accept what happened. You'll forgive me, and we'll be happy together. Once you've done that, we are going to have some great make-up sex. Why don't we skip all of that sad crap and have the sex right now? You can still be sad in the morning if you want."

"We haven't talked in months. How could I possibly know your feelings?"

"You knew exactly how I felt one night not that long ago, and my feelings haven't changed since then."

Rather than reply, I sat silently. I wanted to believe what she'd said, but it didn't fit with all the shit that had happened.

She said, "Just come in for a minute."

I followed her into the apartment that I had once considered my own. The living room had been rearranged. A new leather chair had replaced my favorite worn out recliner. There were a few new knick-knacks on the mantle and recent photo of her at a resort that I didn't recognize on the wall.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked.

"A beer if you have one."

She brought out a couple of beers and asked, "Does the place look the same?"

"Not quite."

She stood close to me, wrapped her arms around my waist and said, "That's not surprising, nothing's the same here."

I assumed she meant that she was a new woman and that I should find her mysterious and alluring, but I couldn't help but think about her picking out the new chair with Jeff and then christening it there in her living room. The thought turned into an image, which morphed into a bitter rage that stuck in my craw. I took a hit off my beer to clear my throat and then a long draft to cloud my mind.

She must have sensed my mood. She said, "Why don't you sit down?"

I looked at the new recliner and then looked back at her. "I think I'd better be going."

It was strange. I'd thought about Debbie every time I'd been with a woman over the last six months, and, now that I had the chance to be with her, I was walking away. I wondered what Philosopher Stan would have to say about that.

She left the front door open as she followed me to my car. "Are we going to be alright?"

"I'll be fine. You don't have to worry about me."

She took my hand and said, "I know you'll be fine. I want to know if WE will be fine."

I put my other hand on hers and said, "I hope so, but I can't do anything while I'm consumed by this bitterness."

She clutched my hands tightly and said, "Okay, but I'm not going to let you go until I know when I'll see you again."