The Long Fall Ch. 01

Chapter One: Falling Apart

In the den is a group photo from the last family reunion we held before Dad passed away. You can tell in the photo that he's in decline. He's sitting in a lawn chair and smiling with the rest of us, but no one who was there could understand how he made it through the day. If you look closely, it's clear that he's straining to hold himself up and the hands that grasp the chair are far too big for his body. We'd planned this vacation at almost the last minute, to have one last time with Dad at his favorite campsite in the Smokies, and we almost didn't make it.

The photo isn't some sepia-colored print from a long-ago time. It has all the colors and sharpness of a high-quality digital shot, filled with beautiful details of trees and mountains and faces. Our little family group is on one side. I'm kneeling. Kaetlyn is riding on my shoulders, and I'm pointing to the camera so she'll look at it. Ruth is half kneeling beside us. She rests a hand on my arm. Bill is standing behind Ruth, holding William, who was just a baby then, moving Will's hand to make it look like he's waving. I don't know how Bill came to be holding Will, or why he's standing apart from Jolene, but he's our children's favorite uncle.

That evening, once the kids were asleep, Ruth let her feelings out. "It's so sad, John. It's just so sad." I thought she might cry, but Ruth doesn't cry easily. She put her face to my chest and hugged me, and of course I hugged her back. God I loved her. I love that memory of her. We held each other for the longest time in the dark cabin, her face to my chest, my face to her hair. I wanted to take her clothes off her and hold her every way there is. My Ruth. After awhile, without lifting her face, she said, "Don't ever leave me. I couldn't stand it."

"You know I'd never leave my girl."

"I couldn't stand it, John. Really. You have to promise."

"I'll be here forever."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

We did make love that night. It was sweet and warm and sad. While I petted Ruth, I had floating above me thoughts of all the drugs Dad needed in order to sleep. I stroked her breasts and her belly with the backs of my fingers, then moved my fingernails along that skin, to her mound, the insides of her thighs, her puss, and I wondered how long it had been since Dad and Mom had made love. It seemed important. When would our last time be? When I entered Ruth I held myself still, so we could kiss and keep it going, to maintain as much contact as possible, as long as I could. When would the last time be? We probably did it to comfort each other as much as for the pleasure, to hold the emptiness of everything at bay. Then, sometime during the night, Kaetlyn crawled into bed between us. She was there when I awoke the next morning. She made it easy to believe everything would turn out okay.

I look at that photo, sometimes, and think about the reunion. As bad as the day was, we maintained a kind of unity in the face of it. Together we would see things through. Family. Partners. Lovers. I wish we could go back. What I've found is that family can be as fragile as Dad was. It doesn't die exactly like people do, but it can fall apart, which amounts to the same thing.

I found it out tonight.

In our case the cause was Bill. And Ruth. My Ruth. It wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't my brother. It would have been awful no matter what, but he's my brother, so break out the multiplication tables. The destructive energy is equal to the masses of their two bodies together, times the square of the speed of the light that brings their images to the husband.

I know. I'm trying too hard. I just wish the light had never reached me.

*****

I don't want there to be any surprises.

There's been the one, big surprise. I don't know what will happen now. I guess there won't be any particular hurry to how things unfold, because that would be too easy. I've imagined several possibilities, but none seems to lead the pack, so even though things might not progress justso, you can probably predict the options as well as I can. They will be as bland and unimaginative and tawdry as the unfoldings in any other crippled lives. How else could it be?

But: the surprise. How did it happen? We've seen Bill a few times a year. Were there chances before? When would they have been? Of course there were the reunions, though Jolene would have been there and I just can't see Ruth and Bill having had any real time together. Then there were business trips when he'd stop by. It had to be the business trips. Had they done things before? Is there a history?

It doesn't all make sense to me. Ruth didn't seem particularly pleased that Bill was going to visit. She was too tired to play hostess, she said, though it wasn't much of a complaint. When he arrived, the three of us had beers and sat around until it was time for me to grill some burgers, then, when the meat was about half charred, Bill came rushing out, carrying Will on his shoulders, growling and laughing back at Kaetlyn, who was chasing them close behind with a wiffle-ball bat.

Ruth joined in and it was a good evening. "Hah!" you say. But it was. I thought it was wonderful. We got the kids settled and had some adult conversation. Ruth poured cordials. Eventually I had to go to bed, but Bill was on West Coast time. "I'll be a while," said Ruth, warming to the hostess role. Everything was as it should be.

*****

What time did I awake? I remember there was a dream, and I was disoriented and at first thought it must be morning. I'm not used to an empty bed, but I must have crashed. And Ruth wasn't there. 12:34 a.m. Where was she? Not a creature was stirring. Everyone should be asleep.

I thought I should find her. She would in bed with one of the kids. I've done that. One of them wakes and is fussing, so you lie down to give comfort, but you forget to stay awake. I lay there and thought about it for a few minutes.Up you go, John!I staggered down the hall and almost hit a wall because I was still zonked. There's some illumination out there, from the night-light in the bathroom, enough so that when I passed the kids' rooms I could peek in to see who Ruth was sleeping with, but the answer was 'neither.' Kaetlyn and Will were alone except for dolls and stuffed animals.

Ideas can steal over you sometimes, especially at night. Is that when I started going so quietly? Yes, but right away I discovered why I hadn't heard anything. The sliding door to the den was closed. Mystery solved – except that it wasn't. I stopped short. There was a problem.

The problem was that I heard murmurings, but they were far too quiet. They were barely more than whispers, the mutterings of people who were working hard not to be overheard. I couldn't make out what they were actually saying, but their tones were all wrong, and there was no stream of conversation. There were gaps, periods with no voices at all, then a few words in Bill's voice, or in Ruth's.

Ruth said something a little louder, something that stood out only because everything else had been so soft. It was a single word, followed by a sentence. I could tell the word was "no."

Then Bill. His voice was deeper than usual. Huskier. That's how I heard it. Then, still another silence, and by that time I was first beginning to think something I didn't want to believe. Ruth murmured again. This time she didn't use the word "no."

It couldn't be that. It wasn't possible. I can almost laugh at myself, at the myself in my memory. How naïve! Not possible? Improbable? Likely. Done! I'd laugh if there was anything at all worth laughing about. I thought the nighttime was affecting my judgment. So why didn't I just slide the door open and say "hi, guys" and maybe remind Ruth what time she had to get up? I'll tell you why: because of the possibility.

I crept away from the door, to my right, through the living and dining rooms, to the kitchen.Be careful of the furniture, John.Fourteen steps, then left, into the kitchen. Fourteen steps! How do I remember that when, the entire time, this is what was going through my mind:Don't be stupid! This is ridiculous!It didn't seem so ridiculous when I found the sliding door between the kitchen and den was closed, too. Why would it be closed?Think, John, think. For silence.I slid past it, past the oven, to the pass-through, took another breath so I could be still for a moment, then peeked carefully.

What I saw didn't make any sense. Though I had just heard Ruth, she wasn't in the den. It couldn't have been more than a minute, could it? Where was she? The only light was a single torchiere lamp in a corner, so there were shadows, and with the dark paneling the light was rusty and dim, but the shadows couldn't hide a person. Bill was alone on the couch, his back to the kitchen, facing a TV that wasn't on, and he was looking downward. Could Ruth have left while I was sneaking into the kitchen? Was he contemplating something? His shoulders were moving. What was he looking at? He inhaled loudly, and I thought for a minute, only a moment, that he was jerking himself off, but he wasn't moving anything fast enough.

Then Ruth appeared. Her hand rose from somewhere down below, moving up above the top of the couch, to Bill's shoulder, and her head followed, first the back of it, then her face.

It was pretty obvious where she'd been. My Ruth, rising from the depths. She was smiling at Bill, looking into his face, into his eyes. She breathed a sentence, "Did you like that?" As quiet as she said it, I could make out every word.

That's when I began to shake.

Ruth was facing the back of the couch, which means she was facing me, and when she suddenly twisted away I thought she had seen me, so I'd have to do something right away. I wasn't ready to do anything. And what in the world should I have done? Oh, I know the options. Scream at them. Pull out a knife. I opted for curtain number three. In any case I was wrong. Ruth turned her face around toward the hall door and stared at it, motionlessly, until she was apparently satisfied no one was coming.He's already here, Ruth.When she turned back the two of them looked into each others' faces again, and they pressed their mouths together. One of Ruth's arms went around Bill's neck. My hands were quivering against the counter. I was willing myself to be still, but I wasn't sure I could. Something surely would start rattling, maybe something inside me. I was breathing quick, shallow, rattley breaths.

My brother! How? My wife, sucking my brother's penis, and smiling at him, being oh-so-wicked with him. Not just 'my wife' but my Ruth, who would never do something like that. Did the chance of being caught make it especially exciting?

Bill pulled Ruth around so she was leaning against the back of the couch, with her head on his arm. He looked down at her while they kissed, and he moved his free arm down between them. For her part, Ruth grunted out a little puff of air. I thought,he's finger-fucking her.It was like finger-fucking at the drive-in movies, working your hand inside your girl's panties but leaving her clothes on so you can break apart fast if you have to. Ruth grunted again. It could have been a lovely sound. When Bill lifted off from her face, he kept working his arm, and after a moment Ruth began to roll her head from side to side. Resting right beside her head, on its back, was one of her hands. The hand clenched and unclenched rhythmically.

As I remember it, everyone in the scene seemed lost in the moment, in the thrill of the pleasuring, everyone that is except the husband out in the kitchen. He was busy thinking of his history with Ruth.We made love yesterday. Last night! Do you remember, Ruth? Do you care?

I wasn't so lost in them that I missed Ruth's panties, which were lying out in the open, on the carpet, in a shadow right beside the couch.Are you upping the ante, Ruthiekin? If John comes you can't possibly cover up. Let's be brazen and ballsy about the whole thing.

"Okay." Bill pulled further away and watched as her panting subsided. I couldn't see much of her face, but she seemed to be looking toward him again. Had she just re-opened her eyes? Bill's voice became harsher. "Do me some more."

"You bastard." She didn't mean it. When she turned her head I could see she looked pleased, and she breathed the words out again.You're so happy to be cheating with him.

"Yeah. Do the dirty deed to me."

Ruth touched a palm to Bill's face, gave his cheek a caress, then disappeared again, but her palm touching his face told me plenty.

Now Bill was the only one on stage. At first he looked down in his lap, but then he tilted his head back, just like she did. He grunted differently than she had, but really not so different. She was doing it all right. I knew exactly what he felt. I know how she does it. She'd used her mouth on me just last night.Ruth!She had knelt over me, using her lips and tongue to play with me, turning her body around so I could play with her ass. I caressed it and ran my fingers from her anus to her button, back and forth. That sweet ass. Sometimes I can almost lose my concentration on what she's doing to me, because her ass feels so good under my hand, but now the exact sensations of her mouth flooded back to me.

Bill's arms had gone out of sight again, down somewhere below his shoulders, making me certain he was holding Ruth's head down. His breathing was faster, and louder, and I thoughtit's going to happen now.There was Ruth, up again.She's got him high, so now they'll fuck.I couldn't stand anymore of it. I didn't move a finger.

Bill panted, "Finish me!"

"What about me?"

"Later."

"We have to hurry. Someone might wake up." She looked at the hall door again. Which 'someone' did she mean?

Bill stopped for a minute as though he were thinking, then he pushed Ruth around so she leaned back on the couch again, and this time I could see from his shoulder how much he moved his arm. It didn't take long. Ruth began to utter those lovely, high-pitched, almost breathless little sounds, such quiet little things that when the door is closed I never really worry the kids will hear them, but loud enough for Bill that he put his mouth on hers to swallow them whole. Then she was over the top, saying something that I heard as a muffled "O" over and over and over, into his mouth.

How could you do that, Ruth? How could you come for him? How could you kiss him like that? How could you do any of it?

There were enough reminders in the room to help her reconsider what she was doing – the photo from the reunion, and the holiday portrait of Kaetlyn and Will and us, the one that came out so well we decided to frame and hang it.It's right there, damn it!And there are other pictures of each of us in the den. We chose them carefully, selecting our favorites and spending days finding just the right frames. Ruth wasn't seeing those. She wasn't actually looking at anything at all while she came and moaned into Bill's mouth.

*****

We could stop the tape at this point. Everything that happens, whatever it is, will happen because of this event. Effects of causes play out over time. Everything that will be will be, but not because of what I saw. Not just because of that. Yes, because of that, but not because of the actions themselves. It's because of what they told me. Once I accepted that this was real, I knew Ruth wasn't who, or what, I had thought she was, and everything she had ever said or done, and how she had said it or done it, was transformed. It wasn't just that I'd lost my wife, but that the person I thought was my wife, the personality I loved, didn't exist. She'd vanished, leaving this stranger in her place.

What did I think Ruth was? Exactly what? Let me tell you an incident. We once fought over a woman. Call her Gina. It isn't what you're thinking, though. Gina was just someone I worked with, who had a crush on me and didn't hide it very well. I could have had her anytime I wanted, and she was a luscious thing, but I tried to ignore it. Oh, of course I didn't just ignore it. I imagined her naked. I fantasized until I got hard, then I'd play with Ruth to see if I could get her in the mood. I'd think of her while I was sexing Ruth. I'm not perfect, but I wasn't going to do anything.

Ruth had suspicions. I brushed them off. Then almost the worst thing happened. One day Gina was talking about pretty intimate things, skirting the edge of what was appropriate. She'd push the conversation and I'd pull back. Yes. It's true. I tried to be obtuse, to respond to the most innocent meaning of a comment. I could see where Gina was heading, and I didn't want her to be in a spot where she'd lose deniability, where I'd have to turn her down, but I failed.

"John, I have these feelings."

"Gina..."Don't say it! Back off!

"For you."

I didn't say anything at all.

She continued. "I was wondering if you had any feelings like that? For me?" She put it all right out there for me. Poor Gina. Now I had to try to reject her gently. I wish I were better at it. Before she left, she asked, "You won't tell anyone, will you?" I promised.

The next week Ruth and I organized a party. You've planned them. You list potential guests, maybe write them down, adding and subtracting names. Your wife mentions a name, say it's Gina's, and she makes one of those snide little side comments a wife might make if she thinks another woman likes her husband too much: "...unless you'd like to party with heralone."

Ha-ha! Except the husband goes mute.

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure we should invite her."

Everything slowed down from there. Ruth gave me a slow, searching look before she said anything, and then she said it slowly, enunciating her words to make sure I got their full import, the way you'd talk to someone who was both slow and guilty.

"What happened?"

"Nothing happened."

"What happened between you and Gina?"

"Nothing happened."

"John!"

"Damn it! Nothing happened! But shedoeslike me, the way you think she does. So I'm thinking we shouldn't invite her."

"How do you know?"

"She told me."

"She told you she wants you?"

"She told me. In so many words. Yes."

"When?"

"Last week."

"Last week?"

"Friday."

"Friday? John! My God! How could you know that and not tell me?" I'm writing a question mark, but there should be another exclamation point.

"She asked me to keep a confidence!"

"John! How could you?"

"She asked ..."

"How could you do that? I'm your wife! We don't have any secrets! You can't keep something like that from me! It's like before! How can I trust you?"

Trust me? I had slipped once, long ago, early in our marriage, stupidly, thoughtlessly, and almost as stupidly had immediately confessed everything to Ruth. I know what it means to fail, and to regret. It hadn't been as bad as it could be. Within two nights we were making love again. But Ruth never let me forget that I didn't quite meet her standards.

"What could Ido? Sheaskedme."

"What you do is you tell me! John, we're not two people. We're a marriage. Don't you understand? You have to tell her we don't have any secrets!"

It wasn't a big fight. If it hadn't been immediately before the reunion, I might not have brought it up at all, but you can see the point. Ruth made union a requirement. My own Lincoln. Mother Abraham. I had cut off the possibility of doing anything with Gina. I was so proper -- upright, gentle, a family man, a friend to the poor dear -- then Ruth upped the ante. I had to be even better. I had to be like Ruth.

*****

So much for union. Where is the Ruth who demanded it? Now she was busy melding with Bill, who had waited long enough for his pleasure. He pulled off her and gazed down at her as she melted into the port wine couch cover. We bought that cover together. In fact we got everything in the den together, almost everything in the house. Almost anything she'd see besides Bill would tell her she had to stop this. Instead she sank languidly into the couch while he looked down with fornicating eyes.