Summer Sunshine

I guess in the end, what destroyed our marriage is the fact that I can no longer trust Clara. I work far too hard to support us. I work long hours, not because I want to, but because the amount of compensation that we get from my job dictates that I am available and accessible around the clock. Clara has no problem accepting the fruits of my labors so she should be ready to accept the pits as well.

As I walked back towards Anton's office, I made a decision. The conference with that woman whose name I don't even remember was the straw that broke the camel's back. I guess for the past year or so, I had been an unwilling partner in Clara's cheating. I guess that made me some kind of cuckold. But I wouldn't be a laughing stock. Clara was definitely becoming careless in her habits. The woman seeing her in that hotel room proved that. It was time to cut my losses and move on. Perhaps not seeing Anton today had been the hand of fate giving me a push. Perhaps going to Paris was the best thing for me. After all, I'd be there for at least a couple of weeks.

That would give me time to cool the fire of my anger so I could make rational decisions. In the meantime, I could still work with my lawyers and arrange the divorce. They would be, after all, only a phone call away and in this age of video conferencing and email and texting, no one was ever really out of communications range anywhere in the world.

* * * * * *

Clara

Three days later, the girls had called a special meeting to decide more details on the Gala and start handing out assignments. I hoped that, as usual, I'd be assigned to head up the marketing team. I really enjoyed working on the advertising of the event and doing radio and television ads and interviews. There was also the internet to consider now. We had to have a twitter account and a Facebook page as well as presence across the net in general.

Strangely enough, I hadn't called Stephen. He'd left me several messages and texts on my phone wondering where I was and declaring his love for me. What that really meant was that he needed either money, pussy or both. Knowing him, it was probably money. On one hand, I quite often, when I went to out of the way places, got the thrill of having a good looking young man on my arm who was apparently very devoted to me. Of course, I knew that while most of those people thought that he was either my son, or a young lover who was attracted to something about me despite our age difference, the reality wasn't far from their thoughts.

Stephen was attracted to certain things about me and it was more than one. The first was the fuzzy triangle between my legs that should have belonged to my husband alone. And the second thing was the money my husband provided me to do with as I pleased.

More and more, my thoughts turned to how ridiculous I was. The problem was, that giving up Stephen and my fantasy was far more difficult than I thought. Even if I gave up Stephen, I'd probably just replace him. And then there was the thought that everything about me that these young men wanted, belonged to or came from Blake. Maybe sooner or later, one of them would just cut out the middle man and try for an affair with my husband himself.

I laughed at the thought and found myself looking into Lisa's glaring eyes. She was obviously pissed about something and trying to direct her fury at me. This bullshit with her had gone far enough and I needed to settle it.

I decided to wait until we took a break. The other thing that occupied a lot of my thoughts lately was Blake. Over the past three days, he'd been noticeably more distant towards me. When our daughter stopped by for her daily visit, he was the same as always to her. The two of them had always been close. But he could barely spare a second for me. And when he did, he was very guarded. I was sure that something was going on.

Carlita, the head of the committee, called for a break and some refreshments. I stood up and walked towards the refreshment table and then grabbed Lisa by the arm and walked her into the hallway.

"Why the hell are you staring at me like I shit in your oatmeal?" I asked. "Okay, you saw me in the hotel room, three days ago. It's not what you think. So what do you think you're going to get out of me?"

She snatched her arm out of my grasp and looked at me with just as much venom in her voice as I'd had. "I already know about your therapy," she snapped. "You are one lucky bitch. I didn't want shit from you. Well okay, I don't think you're good enough for your husband. I'm tired of having to bust my ass just to stay even while the sweet summer sunshine just rains down on you. I figured I'd just let your man know what a cheating skank you are. That way even if he didn't go for me, I'd have put a little hitch in your giddy up."

I was shocked. The woman actually hated me so much that wanted to try to steal my husband away from me.

"Look Lisa, I'll do anything you want," I said. "Just don't tell anyone you saw me."

She looked at me strangely. "Look Clara, I know you're not too quick on the uptake but don't act like I'm stupid too. I already told your husband what I saw and he explained the whole thing about the marriage counseling to me and why you're doing it in a hotel. So just keep the fuck away from me. And if your counseling doesn't work, watch out. I'm younger than you are. I'm prettier than you are. And I'll treat your husband far better." Then she walked away.

For a long time, I simply stood there watching her walk away. I felt like an icy hand was clutching my heart in its cold embrace. My blood was quickly freezing in my veins and pulling all of the life out of me.

For so long, I'd felt that I was ahead of the game. I was the smartest girl in the room. But nothing lasts forever and my nightmare scenario had just come true. I didn't understand a word of the bullshit that Lisa had claimed Blake told her. The one thing I did know was true though, was that Blake knew what Lisa had seen and no matter how he tried to defend me, he'd want some answers. The problem was that I had no idea of what or how much he actually knew.

I couldn't concentrate on anything after that. I had Lisa still glaring at me sitting across the table from me. The watch on my wrist seemed to be moving in slow motion. I swear that the second hand looked like it was moving backwards at one point.

Even when I tried to take notes on what was being said and focus on the topic at hand, my mind worked against me. I kept seeing the image of Blake at home in our bedroom packing his clothes and belongings. I imagined him leaving and never giving me the chance to explain to him that none of the men I'd been with made any difference to us. They were only something to keep the loneliness at bay until I could explain what I needed to him. Blake had to know that he was the only man I had ever or would ever love.

But at the same time, I couldn't just go in with guns blazing and spill my guts to him. What if I ran in and confessed the whole thing and begged his forgiveness, only to find out that he had no idea what the fuck I was talking about? Lisa would do something like that. She was a conniving bitch, but she wasn't stupid. It would be just like her to convince me that she'd told Blake about my fling when she hadn't. She would have in effect made me rat myself out. I'd look and feel like an idiot. I would have wrecked my own marriage just so she could have a few shits and giggles.

She'd already told me that she didn't think I was good enough for Blake. So when the dust settled, she'd just try to move in on him. It would be something she'd do. After all, she'd lost her own philandering husband, so she'd probably want someone who'd be faithful to her next. She'd also want someone who could raise her standard of living significantly. In Blake, she'd accomplish both of her goals and end up with a man who was nicer and better looking as a bonus. I had to tread carefully.

I waited until the meeting was over and declined our usual after meeting chat. I drove home and as I pulled into our circular driveway, I got a shock. Blake's Mustang was already there. The number of times when he'd come home in the middle of the day over the past ten years could be counted on one hand and not even use the thumb.

I ran inside and looked around the house for him. When I got to the living room, I saw our daughter sitting on the sofa watching TV with a dejected look on her face.

I wondered what the hell she was upset about and I also wondered why she wasn't watching TV in her apartment. I didn't have time for her at that moment. So I walked right past her looking for her father. She didn't bother to say anything either. I was relieved, but at the same time, I wondered what was going on with my family.

I finally located Blake. I almost had a heart attack. Just as in my nightmarish visions, he was packing clothes into not one but several suitcases. And I knew that this was reality, because unlike in my daydream where he'd just thrown a few things into a suitcase and stormed off, Blake was using a full complement of luggage. He had clothes carriers and suitcases and even his toiletry case. He had his laptop case with his Mac book and his iPad. Blake wasn't just running out half-cocked; he was carefully planning to leave me. He looked up and saw me standing in the doorway.

"I was going to call you," he said.

"Why call?" I asked. I was trying so hard not cry. "Why not tell me in person. Don't I at least deserve that?"

"What difference does it make?" he asked. "It's not a great thing but it happens all the time. I guess I'm only surprised that it doesn't happen more often. The whole world is going to hell. All anyone thinks about is me...me...me. Everyone has to have things their own way."

"Blake, it was never like that. Can't we talk about this? I hate to sound like a God damned cliché, but it really isn't what you think," I said. I was just hoping that the calm, rational Blake would win out and he'd at least give me the chance to talk about it. "After twenty plus years you can't just leave me like this. What am I supposed to do?"

"I figured you'd go to your club meetings and do all of the things you usually do when I have to travel for business. Like I said, I knew there was the possibility that I'd have to do this but I really thought that if I could go over Anton's books today, I could prevent having to go. But he seems to be as flighty as all of those artistic types are. There's simply no avoiding it. I have to go to Paris and I have no idea how long I'll be gone. It might even be as long as two weeks," he said. "And you know I hate traveling. I'm too used to having my own stuff. I'll miss my car and my spoiled daughter. Shit, I'll have to bring her something back and..."

"This is a business trip?" I sighed with relief even as the words left my mouth. He looked over his shoulder continuing to pack and nodded his head. His expression was neutral, with something else that I couldn't make out thrown in. For the first time in our marriage, I really couldn't read Blake. I wondered how long it had been since I actually looked at him and tried to discern what he was thinking.

"What did you think I was doing?" he asked. He even had a little smile on his face.

"Oh, nothing," I said smiling back at him. At that moment, waves of relief were pouring over me. But I also realized at that moment that I loved this stupid man far more than I'd ever suspected. I would literally do anything to keep him in my life. From that moment on there would be no more summer flings. The risk was simply too great. God has seen fit to give me another chance and I had no intention of wasting it. "Someone just told me a joke that was in poor taste and got me a bit worried." I moved towards him. I just wanted to touch him, to confirm that he was real and that things were still good between us. My amazing husband was still blissfully unaware of my stupidity.

But he moved away from my touch almost casually and then turned to me. "Let me guess," he said. "You spoke to your friend. The uhm... frumpy blond whose name I can never remember. She told you that she'd told me about seeing you in the hotel with your latest boy toy...I think his name is Stephen." My head exploded and my mouth dropped open in horror.

"It's strange isn't it? I've seen that woman lots of times at all of your charity events. I've been acquainted with her for over ten years but I can't even remember her name. But I can remember Stephen's name easily and you've only been fucking him for a couple of months..." he said.

"Blake, I'm so...How long have you known?"

"But then they come and go after only a few months. They're like the human equivalent of may flies aren't they? The one last year wasn't Indian; he was Hispanic wasn't he...?"

"How long have you..." I uttered again.

"I suppose when the summer ended you'd expect to start being temporarily faithful to me again, like you tried to last year," he said. "But I'd had enough by then and I just couldn't bring myself to touch you anymore. That's why we stopped having sex. Or at least I did. But I didn't have to worry about you because as soon as the weather got warmer, you found Stephen." He was closing up his suitcase as he spoke.

"Blake..." I was too shocked at the way things were going to even form words.

"I'd actually intended to address you about this when I got back from Paris, so in a way it's a good thing that we had this conversation. While I'm gone, it will give us both a chance to really figure out what we intend to do. I never do anything rashly and I really need some time to consider my future and whether or not there's a place for you in it," he said. His voice sounded colder than ever.

"Blake, please don't go like this?" I managed to get out.

"How should I go then?" he asked. "What am I supposed to do Clara? Should I kiss you goodbye and tell you that everything is going to be alright? Why lie. Everything is going to be different. One way or another, our lives are going to change, Clara."

He picked up his briefcase and left the room. He made a couple of trips up and down the stairs to get all of his luggage. Our daughter grabbed one of his bags and brought it down for him. I guess I should have helped as well, but I was in too much shock. I didn't want him to leave and go off and think about living his life without me. I wanted him to stay and talk about our marriage and what he wanted me to do. I wasn't even sure he'd heard me when I told him I was sorry.

"Can I drive to the airport with you?" I asked. "Maybe I should get a ticket and go to Paris with you so we can work this out and maybe talk some while you're not working."

He stopped and looked at me. "Clara, you don't need any time to think about anything," he said. "I do. I've been burying my feelings about this for so long that now that it's out in the open, I really have to consider what I want to do."

"What do you mean what you want to do?" I asked. "You mean like whether you'll just forgive me and move on beyond this or whether you want us to go to a marriage counselor. Personally, I'd rather have you just forgive me. I don't need some guy digging around in my head or my emotions. Everyone I knew who went into therapy or counseling came out crazy. They all come out with some kind of syndrome, or hating their parents and blaming them for how shitty their lives turned out. I like my parents."

"That's not what I was talking about," he said.

"Good," I said. "Where you talking about, whether you should just forgive me, or whether I should have to do something in exchange for your forgiveness? Because if that's what you're imagining you're probably going to be disappointed, Blake. I didn't learn any new sex techniques that are going to light you on fire. In fact, you're probably better at sex than he is. The difference is that he's at least interested in taking the time to have sex with me. So if you're expecting me to give you a world class blow job or something, pick something else. I've never given him one. The only person who's ever stuck their dick in my mouth is you." I looked at him and noticed that he was shaking his head.

"I'm sorry if you're disappointed that I haven't become a porno star or a world class slut, Blake," I said. "But there was nothing wrong with our sex life until you stopped participating in it."

"That isn't anywhere near what I need to think about," he said. "But either your mind isn't what it once was or you're just flat out lying. I stopped having sex with you almost a year ago. But you'd already had Mario by that time and there was one before him..." I was even more crushed. Blake knew about everything I'd done. This would probably be far worse than I thought.

"What I'm actually trying to decide," he continued. "Is whether there's anything here to save or if we should just get a divorce?"

I fell backwards and landed in a seated position on the couch. My daughter moved her foot that I'd landed on as if it hurt her to touch me. She jumped up just before Blake closed the door and kissed him on the cheek.

"Bring me something back from Paris, Daddy. Call me," she said as he closed the door. She went back to watching TV. Again, I wondered where our family had gotten to. I was sitting on the couch crying and my own daughter was craning her neck to look around me.

I let out a sob. I don't know what I was hoping for or expecting. I guess I wanted someone to talk to or to tell my problems to.

I sobbed again and her face twisted. "Okay, fuck this," she spat. "I'm going home."

"But why?" I asked.

"Mother, this is the True Blood season finale," she said. "You're ruining it for me with all of your crying. I have to be at work first thing in the morning and everyone will be talking about this. I didn't get to watch it Sunday night because I had a date. I need to watch this."

"It's on the DVR Selena," I said. "You can watch it any time you want. Didn't you hear part of what went on? Your father is thinking about destroying our family. Doesn't that matter to you?"

"Mother, Daddy isn't the one destroying our family," she said. "That would be you. He's just trying to find a way to make peace with what you did. I didn't hear part of what you talked about, I heard all of it. I guess I should probably be disgusted by what you did, but in order to do that I'd have to have had a higher opinion of you. "

Her tone and her delivery were very clipped and very precise. She didn't talk like any twenty-two year old I'd ever heard. In fact, except for the female voice and the higher pitch, I'd swear I was talking to her father.

"I suppose I need to take some time to consider the ramifications of this and how they affect me, both in the short term and the long term but it's really just a problem of logistics isn't it mother?" she asked and I had no idea of what she was talking about.

"I'm an adult," she said. "I've already got my bachelor's degree in finance and accounting. I'm working now to gain some real world experience before going back for my master's degree. I'm not a child. I won't end up being fought over or used as a tool if there is a divorce. The only way this affects me personally, is that if Daddy keeps the house, I can still come here. If you keep the house I'll have to go somewhere else. It's simple logistics, Mother."

She got up and started to put her shoes on. I was pissed. I couldn't believe that any child of mine would be that disrespectful to me. I grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her back down onto the couch.

"Selena, who do you think you're talking to? You have that same way of looking at everything that your father does. You don't seem to have the ability to see the human side of anything. You don't care about the feelings of the people involved. These aren't boxes that you're trying to ship from one place to another. We're not talking about getting yourself or your staff to the site of a meeting or conference, Missy. We're talking about your parents and whether or not they're going to remain married. I am your mother and you will treat me with some degree of respect," I told her.