Unwanted Memories

She looked down and sobbed, her entire body wracked with sorrow. I continued. "It's why you looked through all of those albums and school pictures. You were trying to find the person you were supposed to be with. Why you were so disappointed and angry when you didn't find them there. And then later when you didn't find them at your old work or the coffee shop or gym, why you seemed so... so..." I couldn't say it. Desire and suffering, hope and pain, all dueling in my head.

She choked out, "Re-- relieved. It meant-- it meant I hadn't-- Liz hadn't-- " She shook her head. "He was-- he's so young. I'd hoped that maybe-- maybe it was a college boyfriend. I didn't--" She coughed and took another sip of tea, then looked me square in the eyes. "Until I saw him today and-- and remembered... more, I didn't... They were, the memories were out of time. Impressions. A face, a place I didn't recognize, a-- " She paused, not wanting to say something that would hurt. "Nothing from our life. I hoped-- hoped that since I hadn't seen him anywhere, that they were just..." She laughed ruefully. "That they were like that stupid fast food jingle that played through my head for a week after I woke up. Just a random set of memories that didn't really matter."

She looked away, her voice strained as she continued. "But then I saw him, and I knew that they did. I didn't-- not a lot came back when I saw him, but enough. Enough to put some context to-- to everything."

"Did Liz love him?"

Her lips tightened as she nodded, eyes still not on me. "Not... not in the same way that she loved you, at least not when you were first married. Not as much. He was-- he was exciting. And she was angry at you. He was going to be-- going to be enough."

"Enough?"

She closed her eyes. "Enough for when she left you."

I couldn't find any surprise when I looked inside myself. Of course she was cheating. Everything fit together; she'd given up on us before I had. Her cheating wasn't the reason our marriage was going to end. Our marriage was going to end, so she was getting her ducks in a row. Making sure she had a fallback. Not surprising, in retrospect, but still painful.

I had to ask. "Do... do you love him, Beth?"

She almost dove across the table to grab my hands. "No! No! No, god no! I love you! I only love you! I... I know how Liz felt, but I don't-- it's like reading a story about a character, or watching a movie. I know how she felt, even kind of understand it, but I don't-- her feelings aren't mine."

"What about the sex, then? You-- " I sighed. "You're nothing like Liz in bed."

Beth shook her head. "No. That's not-- I am like Liz in bed. It's just that she-- she lied to you about what she was like. What she wanted. She-- " Her breathing was erratic. "That stupid fucking cunt. She needed to be-- it had to be her goddamned show. She needed to dole out her affection like-- like you were a puppet. A fucking pet. She couldn't control-- she hated that you were getting to see more of life, travel more, a 'better' career, and she-- "

Her face was a mask of rage. "You may have wanted to end your marriage, but knowing what I know now? I fucking hate her." Her tears started to fall again. "Hate-- hate me. She's part of me. And I hate her, so where does that leave me? I wish I'd never remembered anything at all. Wish my world was just-- " She whimpered, "Just one where I woke up and you were there, and that's all it was. No memories but the ones I build with you."

I squeezed her hand. "Beth, I... honey, I still love you. She's-- you aren't Liz. She's, like you said, she's like a character in a book. She's-- "

My wife exploded, "She could come back, John! She could-- she could-- what if she's like a cancer in my brain? What if it metastasizes, takes me over, destroys Beth? What if she-- what if I wake up tomorrow and there's enough of her back that I hate you?" She was shaking with fear. "What if I take-- what if you don't get to have Beth anymore? How can I do that to you? I can't stop it from happening if it-- " The panic in her voice broke my heart.

"Beth. Beth!" She stopped and looked at me. "You'll still remember you, Beth. Still remember you and me. You won't-- you won't hate me like that. I know."

She wailed a single word, "How!?"

Now it was my turn to look away. "Because I do remember. I do know what it was like to... I hated her. I-- things were so bad. I stayed longer than I should have, knew we couldn't pull out of the dive and I-- and I..." I looked back at her. "I was going to cheat, too."

Her hand slackened on mine. "What?"

"The last trip. The one where... where I was on the plane home and knew I needed to end things with Liz. It wasn't-- it wasn't just because of how bad things were. I had..." I took a deep breath to calm myself. "There was a woman from another office. We'd worked together on a couple of projects. She'd-- I'd used her as a sounding board. About my home life. She wasn't part of-- lived in another state--"

I shook my head. The details didn't matter. "The last night there, we were in an elevator together, and we-- we were... If the doors hadn't opened, if one of our co-workers hadn't come in then, it would have continued in one of our rooms. The next day, when we were getting ready to leave, I told her-- told her the next time I saw her that I'd be free. And I headed home, knowing that it was only by chance that I'd stayed faithful."

I looked down. "I remember all of it, the good and the bad. I remember Liz changing her mind about us having kids, how she refused to until she was 'established' in her career. Which was just shorthand for her having the upper hand between us, I realize now. How she pushed me further and further away as she 'lost' in her mind. How--" I sighed. "How, looking back, how obvious it was that she was having an affair, how she was probably laughing about getting one over on me." Beth was very still suddenly, confirming my suspicion.

"But I remember you, too. I remember my-- how much it hurt when you didn't recognize me. When you chose a new name, how bittersweet that was for me. The way we inched closer to each other over time, becoming less strangers and more friends, and then eventually lovers. When..."

I kissed her hand. "When you told me that you wore my shirt to sleep in because it made you feel safe. When you came to my bed and took that shirt off, told me you were my wife." My face was wet. "Everything since, even this-- this painful new, old knowledge. It's all part of us. I hated Liz, and I love you. That's how I know. Because I have all the memories, wanted and unwanted, and I'm still here desperately hoping that-- that-- that you and I will grow old together. That, if you want, we'll be able to watch our children and grandchildren from the comfort of our worn out old recliners. That we-- "

Beth leaned across the table, silencing me with a kiss. It was sweet but passionate, a promise of the future, a silent vow between us that there would be an us. She stood and pulled me along with her to our bedroom.

Once there, my wife undressed me, kissing the exposed skin as she removed each piece of clothing. She led me to the bed once I was naked and bade me lay on it. When she disrobed, it wasn't some overtly sexy striptease, just my wife displaying her body, scars and all. It was all the more intimate for its lack of artifice. Her eyes were on mine as she climbed onto the bed and straddled me.

Her hands pressed flat on my chest as she kissed me. "You're right: Liz is our past. John and Beth are our future. And if she-- if she shows up, we'll face her together. You-- " She kissed me again, softly. Her hand rested over my heart, and she brought my hand to rest over hers "This-- us. We're strong enough to face our past. Together." With a chuckle, she purred, "But that's not what I want right now."

She took me in her hands and placed the head at her entrance. "I want to build a new life with you." She slid down, slowly, a low, soft groan escaping her lips as she accommodated my full length. Her hand slid mine from her heart down to her belly. Beth smiled beatifically down at me, nothing but love on her face. "I want to make a new life with you. I want to feel it grow inside me." She began to move and her eyes fluttered closed as she savored the sensation. "Mmmm, you feel so good, John. So perfect."

I traced along her side, and she giggled, ticklish. The giggle turned to a gasp as my hand moved to her breast and began massaging it. I breathed, "I love you, Beth," as my wife gave me the pleasure only she could. My other hand reached down between us, the thumb teasing her clit.

She moaned her love for me and began to move faster, gliding up and down my shaft. "Oh- ah! Love-- oh god-- John-- Love you!" A tweak of her nipple drew out a little cry and she grabbed the offending hand, whining as her orgasm drew nearer. Bringing it to her lips, she kissed it and held it tightly, a lifeline between us.

My other hand shifted to her hip. The beginnings of a frustrated little whimper started in her throat, but it was quickly replaced by a loud cry of pleasure as I used my new leverage to hold her steady so that I could begin thrusting upwards. Beth released my other hand and began to tug at her own nipples, throwing her head back at the sensations coursing through her. I took the opportunity to grab both hips and start enthusiastically fucking my wife's slick, tight pussy.

"Cu-- cumming! John! Please! P-please! Need you need n-- need--!" Her words became nonsense as she lost control. They were a strange, primal song that possessed me, that drove me as I drove into her. As she started to wail, my voice joined hers, even as my body slammed upwards into her and held there, cock pulsing, sowing the new life she desperately wanted into her fertile womb. We laid together after that for a while, but my wife was far from done with me that night, and I was far from done with her. We finally slept in the early morning, exhausted from our couplings.

The world moved along, and we with it. Little memories would crop up from time to time, mostly about mundane things. Occasionally they were about Liz's infidelity, which drove Beth into a funk until I could take her into my arms and remind her how little I cared about what Liz had done in her body. My "first wife" was like the monster in a slasher movie, and we were never sure if she'd rise up, trying to destroy our lives.

But ten years passed, the same amount of time Liz and I had been married, and she never did. Instead, our household became complete, with the birth first of Ellen and then Duncan. Dr. Taggart was the godmother to our eldest, of course. It was a time of scraped knees and sleepless nights, adjustments on top of adjustments. It was one of the happiest of our lives.

Twenty years passed, and our little ones fled the nest. We cried when we came home the day after we dropped off Duncan at college. That weekend, we reacquainted ourselves with every surface of our home, embracing our empty nest years and each other with gusto. We found new hobbies and friends. We traveled, reconnected with ourselves, and fell more in love than ever.

Thirty years passed, and Liz became barely a shade; no new memories had sparked in years, and we'd long since stopped worrying about her influence. But she gave us one last gift; I'd like to think it was an apology of sorts. We were at Ellen's wedding. Our daughter was beautiful, standing with the man I'd just given her to. The priest said the words, "You may kiss the bride," and Beth stiffened. A broad smile spread across her face, and she leaned her head on my shoulder. Our wedding. She remembered our wedding.

We were together for the rest of our lives, into the years of grandchildren and retirement and all the rest. We never wavered in our loyalty or our love. In the end, I was sorry that Liz and I hadn't made it work, couldn't figure out how to escape the spiral of competition and jealousy. I was sorry for what Beth suffered through, the pain and the loss of her memories. But I was forever grateful that, at the end of her struggles, we each found the love of our life. That we created the memories that mattered together.