What Comes Around, Comes Again

Brad knew my story about Kristy. He became familiar enough to get in a great many digs and I got to the point where I could even laugh at them. My newfound love of country and rhythm and blues brought a ration of ribbing. I'd lost my love for rock and especially cover bands. I also rarely dated, preferring to fill my time with more important activities.

But then he met Julie. Not long after, I met Katherine. She was Kat to everyone, so that's what I called her too. She hit me hard, from the first time I saw her. Her striking beauty was the first to gain my attention in a good while. The little club Julie and Brad had dragged me to was offering a Jack Johnson-type performer who was actually very good. It was my turn to buy a round from the bar because the place was packed and the servers were too busy. As I turned around carrying the three drinks, I ran into her, spilling beer and whiskey on her blouse. She shrieked from the chill and then just stared at me.

"I'm so sorry," I yelled over the music. "Your top is all wet. I'll... I'll pay to have it cleaned."

Something about me must have appealed to her because her anger subsided in an instant.

"You bet your ass you will," she replied smartly. "You're just lucky I drove my friends here and have another top in the car. Where are you sitting because when I get back, you owe me a drink?"

I bought her that drink, too. I couldn't focus on the tunes after that because I could see her where she sat with her girlfriends.

"Go talk to her," Julie said in my ear with a light jab in the ribs. "She already let you buy her a drink and she seemed pretty understanding of your accident."

I felt obligated. No, that's not even close to accurate. Kat was... intoxicating. I couldn't stop watching her - couldn't take my eyes off her - ever since I ran into her forty minutes previous. Kat introduced her friends and with me stammering and stuttering, she quickly went back to chatting with her friends. A slow song started, and I inserted myself for the second time in as many minutes.

"Would you care to dance?" I grumbled trying to deepen my voice. I think she felt annoyed at first, but then she studied my face, and she smiled. Her friends giggled.

The dance was pretty awkward, I'll admit. I was failing miserably and knew it. But I rallied. I slowed way down to the point we were simply turning in tiny circles and started asking her questions about her life.

After we started talking, we found a quiet booth opposite the bar and things turned for the better. Kat was smart, a bit sassy, and she seemed to have the world by the horns. I was so smitten I could have listened to her all night without saying a word about myself. I got her number and left a very happy man. Julie and Brad teased me all the way home.

The next few months were a whirlwind. I had the feeling almost from the start that Kat and I were going to be together for a very long time and, I hoped, forever. The best things about her were also the things that enthralled me. Even when she was moody or snitty, I giggled to myself. The funniest thing about that was, it usually brought her out of that mood.

Kat had a marketing degree from Western Michigan. She had a good-paying and rewarding job with a mid-sized marketing and ad agency that she enjoyed. She lived closer to Detroit while I still lived out in the Boonies. My job with the city had already earned me a promotion and raise.

That wasn't to say that we were without our differences. As business-like as Kat was at work, she was a free bird in her personal life. I couldn't say she was self-centered because I never saw any malicious intent. Most often she took my thoughts and feelings into account.

She liked fine art and she knew quite a bit about it, too. My artistic style was for the sole purpose of wall coverings. Kat bought me all kinds of portraits and sculptures to 'spruce up' my apartment. Kat liked cats - I know, ironic - and I liked dogs. She told me she wanted exactly two children, two years apart. I was hoping for three or four. Her diet and workout programs were far different from mine.

And there were a few things where we disagreed by a good margin. I thought we should have a joint account after we were married. And yes, I did propose at the ten-month mark. Kat accepted. She wanted separate checking accounts. We compromised that we would have two different joint accounts, one for household bills and another for a vacation fund.

The biggest, yet least concerning was her love of rock music. That wasn't to say her choice of music was narrow-minded. She liked classic rock, some metal, and even a few techno-rock bands. Her favorite group was the Green River Band. They were a local Midwestern group who had finally found national fame with two big hits a year ago. Whenever she talked about what they'd overcome in their climb to the top, I reminded her of Bob Seger, Ted Nugent, and even Eminem. That one always ended in a stalemate.

She knew my Kristy story and often would press me about boycotting rock 'n roll just because of one incident. My response was always the same - I didn't know why, and I was open to the idea that my brain would separate the two things eventually.

We were married for two years and life was great. I couldn't imagine it being any better, honestly. We hung out with Brad and Julie several times per week. Julie and Kat became tight and they were always planning something, including fishing trips for us guys. I came home one day to a very happy wife. She was all giddy when she showed me the tickets. Her marketing firm had been hired by the manager of the Green River Band and, in return, she was able to score four tickets. Not just any tickets but rather backstage tickets for the entire concert.

"Why would we want to stand right next to a huge amp and stare at the band's backs while they perform?" She looked at me like I was nuts.

"Because," she said thoughtfully, probably trying not to lose her temper. "We'll actually be right there on stage with them. Oh my God! This is so exciting! I can barely stand it!"

She was overjoyed, no doubt about it. I hinted over the next week about maybe not going. She insisted. It took her three days to remove her rose-colored glasses and to begin to understand I was dead serious about not wanting to go.

"Why?" she'd respond to my question with one of her own. "Because you're my husband and you love me enough to go along." She implied, 'If you love me enough.'

So, I finally gave in, or gave up, whichever. Brad and Julie were just as excited as Kat was. We arrived for the concert a little early. Okay, it was a lot early. Kat was hoping to see some of the band members and possibly get an autograph. We were guaranteed that but on a signed glossy, that everyone else was getting. The concert was at Ford Field and we were directed to a separate parking lot due to the backstage passes.

Kat was in her element, dancing like crazy with Julie just off stage. The girls tried to share the excitement with Brad and I, getting us to dance with them. When the band played their final two songs, the new format of encore that most bands were following, Kat went wild over their hit song, "Pocket Rocket."

Tad Springer was the band's lead singer. I never cared much for him or the band's music, even preceding my event with Kristy. That wasn't true - I loathed him. He was every ego-driven hot mess that was wrong with Rock and Roll. Tad was an arrogant fuck, in my eyes, and the ridiculous tattoo adorning the entire left side of his face pretty much proved it. And then there was that stupid red cape. Springer dressed like some Halloween-twisted version combo of Rod Stewart and David Bowie.

Shortly into their song, he looked over, right at our group of about twenty backstage spectators, and smiled seeing my wife and Julie going at it. He motioned with his head at one of the stagehands and a guy wearing a headset and carrying a clipboard came over right away. He said something into the ears of both Julie and Kat and they almost jumped out of their skin.

Without even a look at me, Kat followed the man right out onto the stage. At least Julie gave Brad a glance over her shoulder as she followed Kat. Tad danced with the women, letting them do most of the work. When the song ended, the crowd went wild.

For the last song, the band had selected another big hit - a ballad - "You Were the Soul of Me." He serenaded our women, even running the back of his hand softly down Kat's cheek. My wife looked like she was in a trance and that's when I first got the bad feeling.

The song ended with a big blinding light show erupting on the final chord. Our wives were whisked off stage. The other side of the stage! I looked at Brad. He had the same uneasy look spread across his face as I knew I did. Applause went on and on. The band exited in the same direction Kat and Julie had. And then the house lights came up. We'd all been behind a little stanchion. I imagined it was there to keep us out of view of the multiple cameras that were recording the event. I stepped forward and one of the security guys noticed me.

"Hey, you can't go out there," he commanded. "One of the concierges will escort you back the way you came in."

"My wife was out there," I told him. "She and my friend's wife were led off that way." I pointed across the stage. "Where are we supposed to go to wait for them?"

The look of pity we both received only fueled my anxiety. "There's a stage exit door, over there," he pointed across the arena on the opposite side of the stage, near what looked like the tunnel our football team used during halftime.

Brad and I made our way around the concourse, fighting the flow of the crowd, like a fish struggling upstream. By the time we were on what we thought was the other side of the stadium, most of the people had exited. I kept stepping into an aisleway to get a reference point. After several failed attempts, we finally ran into a security worker who led us through an aisle, down some stairs toward the field, and past a gate that we'd never have known was there had it not been for his direction.

Half an hour after our wives were whisked offstage, we were in a concrete tunnel, waiting for them and wondering if in the confusion we'd missed them. Neither woman answered her phone, so Brad and I did the only logical thing we could - we stayed right there. We watched the locked double-door exit with uneasiness and suspense. Several people came through those doors, mostly women, and when we asked, they did confirm they had been part of a band entourage or a photo op.

Finally, and another forty-five minutes later, the door swung open again, and this time Julie emerged. Brad seemed both extremely angry and relieved all at once. His feelings were probably what kept him rooted to the place where he was standing instead of moving to embrace his wife. She was the one who initiated that contact.

"Where's Kat?" There was no emotion in my voice. I was too worn out to be emotional. That would come later. Brad looked at Julie, and Julie looked at me. Her expression told me too much without providing any details.

"She's... gone." The pause between those two simple words caused a lump in her throat that almost made her expel a demon or swallow it back down. I thought she might vomit right there.

"She left you a message," Julie said, reaching into her small clutch for a phone - Kat's phone, and handing it to me.

Brad suddenly found his voice. "What do you mean, she's gone?" he asked incredulously. "She was with you."

Julie's face now showed fear. She already knew she'd have to explain this to me and Brad. She was much more concerned about how to say it to her husband.

"I tried," she said to Brad. Then turning to me, "I did."

By that time, I'd opened my wife's phone. "What am I supposed to be looking for?" I asked her with urgency. There might have been time to stop whatever was going on.

Julie told me to look at the last video in her camera roll. I found it and tapped 'play.'

"I'm making this video," she began, "because I don't have time to tell you face-to-face. Sorry, that's only partially true. I'm afraid to do it that way."

She paused but regained her determined look. "I was asked by the band - by Tad - to go along on the rest of the Midwest tour. It's four more shows. Joey, I have to do this! I want to do this. I'll never have another chance like this one. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

"I know how it makes me look. I know we're married and what damage our marriage might suffer. I think I know what you'll be thinking while I'm gone, too. We both know what being a 'groupie' means, and all that goes along with it. Please, don't focus on that. I can't explain all that now but I'll be home in two weeks, give or take a day, and I'll explain it all to you then, I promise. I've given Julie my rings because I love you and I want you to put them back on my finger when I return. I also promise right now, I'll never do anything like this again. I love you. I know you're watching and wondering if that's a lie but it isn't. I'll be prepared to prove it to you."

Someone knocked on a door, presumably to the small closet-like room she was in, and she said louder, "I'll be right there!"

She turned back to the camera. "I love you, Joey. Please don't worry, everything will be all right. I'll see you in a few weeks."

The video stopped. I looked at the screen in total shock. The time stamp said 1:13. One minute and thirteen seconds to destroy everything I thought we had.

>>>>

Brad and Julie got me home safe and sound as promised. During a few beers, they kept at it nonstop about Kat and the concert but that wasn't helpful.

"Can we change the subject, please?" I sourly asked. They tried and so did I, but it only led to silence. The concert and the unbelievable gall of my wife were all we could think about. After that, I told them they could go home and I was going to bed since the next day was a workday.

It was a good thing, too. I needed the distraction and it was a busy day. That night at nearly six, my sister came walking into my apartment. I'd talked to her at lunch and explained what had transpired. Elaina was my big sister and a guiding force in my life. I knew she'd provide perspective and give me plenty to think about. What was unexpected was Stacy, my high school girlfriend, following her into my home. Elaina had become friends with Stacy in high school, when we went out, and they'd remained friends after college. They'd picked up a few gourmet sandwiches from a little shop we often frequented.

"What do you think you want to do?" Elaina asked after I laid out the details of the previous night and showed them her video.

"I honestly don't know," I shrugged. "If I had to make a decision right this minute, it would be divorce."

Elaina and Stacy both nodded slowly. The looks on their faces showed that they agreed with me. But then Elaina surprised me.

"Well, let's break things down," she said like a mother might. "Maybe let's start with Kat not planning it beforehand."

"Hold up," I interrupted. "I don't know that for sure. She plans everything. She's a planner. She got the tickets through work and while that's legit on the surface, I don't know that she didn't plan to go backstage."

"Yeah," she thought it through. "But neither she nor Julie had any idea that Tad Springer was going to drag them onstage."

I had to agree. Then I thought of what likely came after. "My bigger issue is that she could have said no. Instead, she jumped at the chance, forgetting her marriage in the process."

"I don't know about that either, Joey," she said hesitantly. "She was thinking about you and the marriage in the video she made, clearly trying to minimize the damage, but still cognizant."

I thought about how to rebut that and Stacy filled the silence finally saying something.

"If she thought she could salve your hurt feelings," she paused, "Though, by telling you before the fact, well, maybe..." She trailed off.

There was a longer silence, as we all contemplated. Finally, I spoke up. "Yeah, regardless," I began. "She left. She's off on her great adventure, which surely includes fucking that slimy bastard, Tad Springer repeatedly over a two-week period. I don't see any way of getting over that."

Elaina got up and fixed us all a drink. I guess they'd stopped at the liquor store too. She set my whiskey and coke in front of me and asked, "This isn't a dig but can you tell me what goes through a guy's head regarding infidelity? I mean the act of it as it goes through your mind. Is the woman who's supposed to belong to you sullied or dirty somehow?"

"In a way," I said with ease. "I suppose my imagination works much the same as any other guy, or woman for that matter. Then there's the whole anatomy thing and the fact that he's going to be ejaculating into her. But for me, it's more about breaking her vows. She made a promise when we married."

I felt unsettled having the conversation in front of my ex. I guessed she reciprocated because she blushed.

"What if they use condoms?" my sister asked.

"Doesn't matter," I replied immediately followed by a huge sigh. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Okay," Elaina said. "Her having sex with some other man is a deal-breaker for you. That's established."

Stacy seemed anxious to speak. "But it isn't just some other guy, it's Tad fucking Springer, right?"

"Again, doesn't matter," I said. "Some random guy or Springer. In fact, it might be worse."

"Because he's a celebrity?" Stacy was fishing. "I mean, like she said, 'opportunity of a lifetime.'"

"Not for me," I responded. "Let's say he's very good, you know, at sex. And that's likely considering what type of celebrity he is. How could any husband compete with her memories? I don't cherish the idea of spending the rest of my life having sex with only one person who is almost always thinking about what she did with that asshole."

That made Stacy grimace. I think the male perspective gave her plenty to think about.

"That goes to one other thing," Elaina jumped in. "What about getting even? Would it help you to move on if you could have sex with someone else?" For a moment, I thought my sister was offering up Stacy.

"Not at all," I said emphatically. "Two wrongs don't make a right."

The conversation shifted to what I was planning to do while she was gone, how I was going to keep myself sane, and what I might need from both of them. I saw Stacy lean forward in her chair intently awaiting my answer.

The following night, Stacy returned without my sister. We had pizza and reminisced about better times. Stacy told me all about her college experience. I told her how sports had dried up and my decision to leave the university. We talked about our jobs and what we liked about them. When we were talked out and almost nodding off, we called it a night.

"Stacy," I proffered, "If you're as tired as you look, I have a spare room." She looked at me, sizing me up.

"No," she said. "I'm fine. I'll just roll the window down." She smirked at me, seemingly proud to have been able to keep herself at bay.

"Can I come over tomorrow night?" she asked as she gathered her purse. "Or maybe, we can go to the movies?"

We ended up going to the movies. The next night was Friday and I took her to the Italian restaurant where we'd had our first date. After, we strolled hand-in-hand along the river walk. As I dropped her off at home, I leaned in for a kiss and she didn't stop me.

Sunday was the first day I saw no one. Brad and Julie did call just to check on me but we ended up talking about the day's football schedule and the surprise winners, as well as how our fantasy players did. Julie told me she was happy that I wasn't sulking in my alcohol.