The Corner Table at Mickey's Pt. 01

When he came back, she was still sitting on her stool, looking uncomfortable. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not making any assumptions, but ..." She trailed off for a moment, then continued, "Jim, I need to make one thing clear just so no one gets upset later. You're married, and I assume more or less happily up until recently."

"Mallory, I—"

She cut him off. "No, listen a minute. You're a friend. I like talking to you, even in circumstances like these. But, if you're looking for a little ... something-something ... to salve your hurt pride, you're barking up the wrong tree."

He took a moment before answering. "Mallory, I was just being flip. I meant nothing by it. I have absolutely no interest in making a pass at you."

She considered his face for a long moment, and then a smile lit her eyes. "I believe you, if only because you'll eventually realize how incredibly rude that was." As he started to flounder again, she laughed outright. "Quit while you're behind, bucko, and sit down. We'll go Dutch."

After they got themselves situated at a table and had given their order, he answered her question about Tuesday. He started his story, "I walked in the door and suddenly I was in the middle of some weird cliché. I barely had time ..."

I barely had time to push the door shut before a distraught Lori flew up and wrapped her arms around me. "Oh, Jim, where have you been? I've been so worried!"

"Yeah, I'm sure my well-being is what has you most concerned at the moment."

"Oh, don't be like that!" she said, taking my arm and smiling brightly at me. "You have to let me explain! It's not what you think!"

"I'm glad to hear that. See, I thought I found you in another man's place when you had told me that morning that you were having lunch with your friends and then going to the mall to look for new boots."

She sputtered a little, "No ... I mean ... that's not what I mean. I ... I mean you're thinking I'm having an affair, but I'm not."

"No, Lori, I'm not thinking you're having an affair."

"You're not?"

I shook my head. "Nope. I'm not thinking about anything as polite as the word affair. I'm standing here thinking my wife was fucking some other man. That's the word I was thinking about: fucking."

"Oh God, no, Jim! I did go to lunch, but it ran late, and we never got to the mall, and then I was about to—"

I interrupted her, "Did you drive?"

Lori wasn't stupid. I wasn't looking at her face, but I'd bet a wary look came into her eyes at the question. "Umm, no. Some of us carpooled with Kevin because of parking at the restaurant. We just got back."

I smiled to myself. She dodged that one—the hood of her car had been stone-cold—but it didn't matter. I continued, "And no one came to the door when I knocked several times because ...?"

"Kevin was in the bathroom, and the rest of us didn't want to answer his door."

"Oh, there were others with you?"

A year ago, I might have believed the look of utter sincerity in those eyes.

"Oh, Jim, yes! Courtney and Kirsten were there."

I finally turned and looked at her. "And now you'll have some story about why their cars were missing since you hadn't gone to pick them up? And how his car was in front of yours in the driveway if he had been driving everyone and you had just gotten home?"

My voice had been growing in pitch and volume as I ticked those questions off, and I was practically shouting now. "Do you think I'm a fucking idiot?"

As I said, she's not stupid: she knew the game was up. The tears began to flow.

I calmed my voice down as the tears came faster. "Besides, wouldn't you expect me to call around to your friends first to try to find you?" I was lying through my teeth by implication; I hadn't done that. But I didn't want to hear any more of this little fable, and I didn't want to mention that I'd stayed and seen her brushing the bed-head when she came out.

The tears became sobs. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. It was an accident."

"You accidentally fucked—" my voice dripped with sarcasm.

"God damn it!" she interrupted my smart-ass response. "You know that's not what I meant. A bunch of us went out for drinks because Kevin is leaving, and I had way too much to drink and he brought me home, and then he started kissing me." She was biting her lip now trying to convince me of her sincerity. "I wasn't clear about what was going on, but I couldn't focus enough to stop it and, well, I just couldn't help it, I was so drunk. I'll never be in that situation again, I promise."

"That might be a comforting thought, Lori, except—"

Jim stopped his story abruptly, looking flustered. Mallory raised an eyebrow. "I didn't quite tell you the truth the other day about not being sure until I caught them," he admitted.

"I know."

"What?"

"You said you didn't know anything until that day. Yet, somehow you knew exactly whose door to knock on."

He couldn't quite meet her eyes. "Sorry."

"Don't be."

"I must look like a wimp to you."

She shook her head. "I don't know anything about your situation, other than what you've told me so far. The only thing I know is that there are parts of the story I don't know."

He tried to read her expression, but she seemed sincere. He continued. "Well, I told her that might be a comforting thought, except ..."

"... a comforting thought, Lori, except that this was already an again," I said.

"What ... what are you talking about, Jim?" If I hadn't already known for sure, her reaction would have told me right then and there. It wasn't confusion that I saw on her face; it was fear.

"Well, your car was there last Monday, and the one before that as well. But, let's not worry about them when we can talk about Kevin's real going-away party three Fridays ago which, somehow," Lori started shaking her head, trying to deny what she could see coming, "for two people maybe a little too drunk to drive, turned into a late-nighter at the Holiday Inn, Room 127. See, my dear little wife, those times make this time an 'again'!"

"No, Jim! No." She was close to frantic now. "He came on to me at his party when I was drunk." I ignored the sudden revisionism that moved the date of her drunken slip to three Fridays ago, and geographically by about seven miles. "And then he had this hold over me because I couldn't bear to hurt you by letting you know." I said she wasn't stupid, so I guess playing the minor care-about-you card was the only thing she had left.

I couldn't take any more of this. "I'll sleep in the guest room."

"No! You have to stay with me. We can work through this. Eight years of marriage, ten together, that's stronger than this. Don't throw it all away over one mistake." Big eyes looking up, hand on my upper arm, heavy sigh.

I guess I was wrong about the only thing she had left: there was still "think what you're giving up." I stepped back from her.

"Oh, God, Jim! Please! I made a bad mistake, but I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I swear!"

Jim shook his head as he finished the story. "You see what I mean about clichés? First, it wasn't what I thought, and I had it all wrong. Then, she was drunk, and he took advantage of her. Finally, it was a mistake, but she'll make it up to me. About the only cliché she didn't hit me with was telling me that it was just sex, but I'm the man she truly loves. I had to get out of there."

Mallory wrinkled her nose in chagrin. "It does sound sort of like a bad soap opera. So, what now?"

"I told her I'd see her tomorrow night. I guess we do have to talk about what comes next. But hey! Enough of that." Jim caught the bartender's eye and pointed to the glasses, making the circling motion for another round of the same. "I should stop crawling into a bottle so much but, in the meantime, let's talk about other stuff."

She heard about the decade it had taken to build the tiny printing shop his father had left him into a solid business that, while it wouldn't make him truly wealthy, had at least made him more than comfortable.

"Though," he said seriously, "I guess I should find a hobby or something now."

In turn, he found out that she had married her boyfriend right out of college, but he had been killed by someone running a red light three years later.

"I was pretty bad for a year or so, but I'm back to living my life. It was a good marriage. We liked each other and cared enough that I think we'd have figured out how to make it work for the long haul."

"Anyone since then?" he asked.

"I'm seeing someone now, but I don't know how serious." She hesitated a moment before saying, "There was—" she broke off, looking over Jim's shoulder.

Jim turned. "What are you doing here, Lori? I thought we agreed to meet tomorrow."

"I couldn't wait. I had to speak to you, to try to work this out." Jim said nothing, just stared at her. Finally, she went on nervously, "You didn't answer your cell, and you weren't at the hotel, so I just started checking the bars in hopes of finding you. Please, can we talk?" She kept glancing at Mallory as she was saying this, obviously wondering who she was.

Finally, Jim said, "Mallory, this is Lori. Lori, meet Mallory, a friend from work."

Lori smiled mechanically at Mallory then turned back to Jim. "Could we maybe talk a bit? Just the two of us? No offense, Mallory," she said.

"None taken," replied Mallory, starting to slide out of the booth.

Jim wasn't as generous. "Mallory's my friend and I asked her to have a drink with me. It would be pretty rude for me to just ditch her. If you have something you have to say now, go ahead and say it."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Jim," Mallory said. She was uncomfortable.

She turned to Lori, "Nice to meet you. I'll go sit at the bar for a while. If it gets too late, I'll just head home." She walked the few steps over to the bar and climbed up on a stool, giving Jim a nod of support before turning around to finish her drink.

Lori slid in across from him. She tried to catch the bartender's eye, but he was busy at the other end. She kneaded her hands for a moment, uncertain of how to start, then dove in.

"Jim, honey, I know I've done something terrible. I know. And you're probably torn up inside, but I want you to know that he was just some excitement. You're still the man I love."

Jim could swear he saw Mallory's shoulders heave as if she had just snorted a nose full of her drink.

When Jim didn't respond to that, Lori started a string of apologies and promises.

After listening for a minute, his patience for the self-serving litany ran out. "Will you answer some questions truthfully? You've lied enough. I'd rather you just said nothing than do it anymore."

"Anything!"

"How long has it been going on with Kevin?" he asked, as non-confrontationally as he could.

"About five months, more or less."

Jim nodded to himself at the answer.

"And was he the first, Lori, or have there been others in my figurative bed, or maybe even my literal bed?"

"Oh, no! Never in our bed. And, yes, Kevin was the only one. You have to believe me!"

"Yeah, well, my belief is in short supply at the moment."

"I deserve that, I guess, but I'm not lying. I haven't slept with anyone else. I promise. Except you, of course."

"Of course," he said sarcastically. He sat thinking a moment. "But I asked the wrong question. Maybe what I want to know is how long has it been since you did something, anything, with another guy that you didn't want me to find out about?"

She just looked at him and the tears started down her cheeks.

His voice was tired. "Just tell me, Lori."

"About a year and a half."

"What happened?"

"You were traveling. I went out to a club and met this guy. He was kind of hot, and we danced a bit. I got pretty tipsy. We made out in the booth, and he talked me into going out to his car. But once I got up to leave, I couldn't go through with it. I was tempted," she looked at Jim as the tears continued to flow, "but I knew it was wrong and I didn't go."

"And where did it go from there?"

"Not too much different. When you were away, I'd go out to the clubs and dance, and maybe fool around a little when I had a few drinks."

"By 'fool around' you mean what?"

"Make out in one of the booths, maybe touch a bit. It didn't go much beyond that until ... until Kevin."

They sat there in silence for a while before he said, "By the way, I didn't miss the word 'much' in that sentence."

She couldn't meet his eyes.

Finally, she said, "What can I do to fix this, Jim?"

He acted like he hadn't heard the question. "What made Kevin different enough that you finally took the plunge?"

"I don't know." She shook her head. "He's good looking. I knew from some of the other girls that he was exciting to be with, aggressive and kinda ..." she looked embarrassed and didn't finish the sentence. "He liked the clubs too, so we'd run into each other. One night we were dancing hard, kind of grinding a bit. I'd had too much to drink and I could feel him pressing into me. Suddenly, I wanted to see what that was all about. The slippery slope became slipperier, and I ended up taking that walk out to the car after all."

Again, she begged, "What can I do to fix this? Please. It meant little to me beyond some excitement. I love you. I never meant you to get hurt even a little bit. I'll do anything to make it up to you."

And, again, he acted like he hadn't heard the question. "The $64,000 question, Lori: why?"

"Like I said, you were gone a lot and tired when you got home. I know," she held up her hand to stop him from objecting, "I knew going in that it was what you had to do for a few years. I understood why, but it didn't change the fact that you weren't around so much."

She hesitated and Jim prompted her, "And?"

She didn't answer at first. He looked at her expectantly. She finally plunged on, "And—I don't want to hurt you, but you said you wanted to know the truth—you started putting on the weight, and I just didn't find myself lusting after you quite so much. It was still good when we made love, but I wasn't craving you all the time. It became all tenderness and no heat, and I missed the heat. It's," she paused, then admitted, "it's what I found in the clubs."

She was barely meeting his eyes. She didn't see the slight tightening of his shoulders that pulled his head back a fraction; she missed the tiny clench that altered the shape of his jawline. Barely noticeable, like the standing ripples in still water that signal a seismic tear far below the surface of the earth.

"I do still love making love with you." She misread the twitch in his expression. He knew it, ignored it. "I do still love you," she insisted.

"Why didn't you say something about the travel or the ..." He struggled a little. "Or about the other?"

"Because I didn't want to hurt you."

"Yeah, this is so much less painful!"

The look on her face was pure frustration but, he thought, at herself, not him.

"Then maybe because I was stupid. I got a little lonely and didn't have enough common sense to just join a club." She paused, then continued, "Or maybe because being bad has kind of an illicit thrill, and any woman who's reasonably good-looking doesn't have to exert much effort to have it."

There was another pause and then she finished, "Maybe because I realized that I didn't want you in that way, but I wasn't smart enough to realize I wanted to want you if that makes sense? Take your pick; I'm not sure what the answer is myself. Probably a bit of everything."

It struck Jim as the most honest thing she had said since the whole mess began.

He saw Mallory stand up. She caught his eye and made a mock salute. Jim started to stand, but she shook her head and mouthed, "Some other time."

Saturday morning, Mallory heard, "Hey, Mal," and turned to see Tom coming up behind her on the jogging path. He slowed to match her pace.

She gave him a half-smile and nod of acknowledgment, then turned back to her run without saying anything. Tom's mental eyebrows went up; that was out of character for their occasional encounters in the park.

He ran alongside in silence until they reached the small bridge that marked the midpoint of the mile circuit. While they jogged in place, waiting for a strolling couple to cross the other way, he asked, "You okay?"

She stopped suddenly. The neutral expression on her face shifted to irritation tinged with a hint of distress.

"It turns out Brandon's plans were to Netflix and chill again. When I pointed out that maybe I wanted to get out and do something for once, it kinda went downhill from there. We both said a few things we shouldn't've, but I bailed when the word 'bitch' came out."

"Brandon being that guy from the gym I've seen you with?"

She nodded.

"If you're going to date mouth-breathers like that, you can't be surprised."

The unsympathetic response sharpened her own. "I thought he might be different, and you were one of those mouth-breathers yourself."

"Oh, bullshit! I was always willing to go out and do things with you. Just because I like to work out doesn't make me one of those guys planting themselves where they can watch the girls on the adductor machine." He started to turn away, then threw in, "Like I know some of your dates have done."

"What! Who?"

He put his hands up. "I'm not getting into that with you. Just don't go laying bullshit on me. You dumped me because I wasn't willing to do happily-ever-after at that point in my life. We both know I wasn't some guy just looking to get laid."

She relented and muttered, "Fair 'nuff."

The look he gave her was a firm "You bet your ass it is" look. Without another word, he headed over the bridge at his normal pace.

She followed behind at her slower speed, a little guilty because he was right. Yeah, once they'd started, there'd been regular sex for the months they were together. But he'd been more than just a bed partner. There'd been nights out listening to bar bands and being dragged to her first hockey game—semi-kicking at first, loving it by the end of the first period—not to mention their long runs out in the hills with a light picnic in their backpacks.

He just wasn't willing to discuss what came after even though he was perfectly willing to be exclusive with her. Insisted on it, in fact. "Look. I'm a one-woman kind of guy; no problem with that," he'd said. "But I'm not even going to start down the path of, 'Are we serious?' We're having fun. That should be good enough for the immediate future."

She didn't judge others, but the way she was wired, long-term dating that had no prospect of getting more serious left her wanting. She wasn't anxious to get married per se, but she wanted that closeness and hoped kids were in the future for her and some guy. Unless you're a cheater, it's hard to find your soulmate while you're in something only for fun, had been the dominant thought when she'd finally said to him, "We need to talk, Tom."

Now, she'd taken out her bad temper on the wrong guy, mostly because the text she got this morning ...

≪ Hey, sorry about last night but look on the bright side: makeup sex FTW

... had done exactly zero to improve her mood. Oh well, not the first time Tom's seen that side of me. And not the first time he's mentioned my choice in men.

She allowed herself to focus momentarily on the butt and legs pulling away from her. Tom was a decent-looking guy overall, but that part of him was a delicious eyeful. Unfortunately, it wasn't a store-that-image-for-me-time-later kind of eyeful anymore. When they'd both realized that they were in different places in their lives, everybody got friend-zoned. Good friends, but nothing more. And, once that happened, the lust faded. Too bad. It's certainly a delicious ass. She giggled and then looked around, hoping no one heard. I'll bet Shannon loves taking a bite.