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Screaming for Vengence

By: StangStar06



Hi Folks. After the the whacked our craziness of Savannah and last weeks exploration of swinging, I wanted to just do a straight ahead no gimmicks just people story. There will be no explosions or special effects this time. (I can't promise that next week. This is also another shorter one. Unfortunately I can't promise that next week either. So enjoy it. As usual I have to thank the incredible Mikothebaby who also named this story, she's more than just an editor, she's one of my very best friends and I couldn't do this without her. 

* * * * * *

Life has a way of throwing a monkey wrench into your plans. That's probably why I don't plan anymore. Before my divorce I was all about the plan. At work I strategically planned out everything that could go wrong in my department in the event of any and all foreseeable emergencies. I had multiple contingency plans in case for some reason we couldn't do one of the normal emergency plans.

I'd gotten a call this morning that I needed to go and see my ex-wife. I hadn't seen her in a little over a year and didn't really care to. But considering that the request had come from my daughter, I knew I'd have to make the trip.

My daughter Samantha, Sammie as we called her, had been really insistent. So, I'd gotten into my car, a "Gotta have it Green," Mustang Shelby GT 500 and headed back into town. It took me almost an hour to navigate myself through the choked up freeways to make it to the hospital in the city that Sammie had taken her mother to.

I'd parked in the visitor's parking lot hoping that I wouldn't be there for long. When I went to information, I found out that my ex-wife Erica had actually been in the hospital for two days already. A really petty nurse who smiled at me had led me to her room and told me that I could go inside and wait but she was still asleep.

"What's wrong with her?" I asked.

"Your wife..." she began. I interrupted her by holding up my hand.

"Ex-wife," I said. "Very, very ex-wife," I smiled. The nurse smiled back at me. Then her face changed.

"Daddy, seriously, you aren't flirting with the nurse while mom is laid up in the hospital are you?" said my daughter over my shoulder.

"Of course not, Sammie," I said. "If I were flirting seriously, I have at least asked..." I looked at the nurse again.

"Bonnie," she supplied.

"Ooh that name fits. Doesn't it mean pretty or something like that to the Scots or the Irish. Like in, "she's a Bonnie Lass, that one?" I said the last part with my fake Scottish accent, which caused Bonnie's smile to grow even bigger.

"Were you saying that about me?" she asked.

"Oh yeah," I said. "Like I said, that name really fits you." My daughter picked that moment to break up our impromptu smile fest and separate us by pushing me into her mother's room.

There were four beds in the room. It was probably the most depressing room I'd ever been in, whether in a hospital or anywhere else.

"This room is awful, isn't it?" she asked. I shrugged my shoulders.

"How would I know?" I asked. "I have no frame of reference to compare it to."

"Daddy, it's a ward," spat Sammie. "They can put as many beds in here as they can physically squeeze in. It's noisy, sometimes it's smelly and Mom deserves better." I shrugged again.

"Daddy she's only in here because she doesn't have any health insurance. Darren can't get her on our plan. The only person we know who could get her on their health insurance is..." her voice trailed off. I looked around over both shoulders and held my hands out to the sides with the palms up.

"Who?" I asked. "I'm retired. I'm a consultant. I go in occasionally when they need advice on something. And since the company was generous enough to offer me a plan I took it."

"You could have included mom on your health care plan," she said quietly.

"Sammie, honey, I love you more than anyone else on this planet. I'd do almost anything for you. But you have to wrap your head around the fact that your mother and I are divorced. I complied with everything the judge specified. The day that we signed the papers, I took out a loan and wrote her a check. I did it that way so she'd have every cent coming to her," I said. My daughter looked at me like she was sure that I was hiding something.

"Honey, how many people do you know who are divorced who can actually say that they got every penny that was owed to them in a timely basis? You're always hearing that so and so was missing his alimony payments or child support or whatever, right. I never missed a thing. I gave your mother everything she had coming to her."

"But not everything she wanted," said Sammie quietly. We stood at the end of the bed and looked at the sleeping woman lying in front of us.

"You know she never wanted a divorce, don't you?" asked Sammie quietly. "She still loves you now even after all of this."

"You know Sammie that people in hell want ice water," I said coldly. "But they're down there frying because of shit they did while they were alive. Your mother and I are divorced because of shit she did while we were married."

"Daddy, I know what she did," said Sammie. "I was there when it all blew up, remember. And I know that she was wrong, but I can't help thinking that the two of you still belong together. Daddy, she loves you so much, look at her. She's just fallen apart in the last two years. She doesn't look like a fifty year old woman at all. Two years ago mom was forty eight and she could've passed for being in her thirties. Today she looks like she could be in her sixties."

"Some people just don't age well," I said coldly. "But you know, maybe she needs to get out and do something to take care of herself. If she just lets herself go, then what do you expect?"

"Daddy, she needs her husband back in her life," spat Sammie. "She needs to feel loved and cared for. That's why she's wasting away."

"Is that why you called me out of a warm bed?" I asked in mock shock. "You want me to find her husband? Who the hell is he?"

"Daddy, don't you have any compassion in your heart?" asked Samantha. "Is this what you wanted? Is this what your frail little male ego needs to see? Do you really need to see the woman you swore to love, honor and cherish reduced to a shadow of her former self just so you can know that you won?"

"Sammie, you don't know shit about compassion," I snapped right back at her. "Remember what you're talking about and whom you're talking about. I put up with her shit for years and stayed married to her. I gave her plenty of chances, but she just couldn't let go of it. You should also consider that your loyalty to her very damn nearly cost you your own marriage." Samantha closed her eyes and nodded her head then. I could see that she was thinking about it.

"At least three families nearly ruined, all ended up hanging by a thread because of the selfishness of two fucked up people." I said. "Maybe they belong together." I smiled a little as I said that and Sammie's eyes popped open.

"Daddy, you don't mean that?" she said. I shrugged my shoulders. I looked at her and smiled.

"You're getting older too, you know," she said. "Daddy, don't you want something more out of life than driving that car way too fast, traveling, and the bimbo of the week?" Again I gave her the palms up shoulder shrug.

"I love my car. I've always loved Mustangs," I said. "I like traveling too. And as for the bimbo of the week, I've been with Shelly for almost a year. I'm kind of partial to redheads. And besides that, you introduced me to her."

"But Daddy," she whined. "Don't you want someone to settle down with and enjoy life on a more permanent basis?"

"Been there, done that," I spat. "I actually thought I had that person. God damn I loved her. I loved her enough to put my pride aside and try to fix things even after I found out what she was doing. She just couldn't let it go."

"Daddy, some women are capable of loving two men at the same time," said Samantha.

"And some men are capable of putting up with that shit," I said. "The problem is that I'm simply not one of them. Why am I here anyway?"

"Daddy, I've been here ever since we brought her here," said Samantha. I needed a chance to go home and shower and change clothes. It might be nice to see my husband again too. Darren has been great. He sat with her for a couple of hours yesterday to give me a break but I couldn't ask him to do it again. You know that he really doesn't like mom."

"He used to get along with her fine until..." I let it drop. "But now, maybe it's not that he doesn't like her. Maybe he's just afraid that if you spend too much time around her, you'll become her, and he loves you Sammie. Except for me, I can't think of anyone else who loves you as much as he does."

"So you really love me daddy?" she asked.

"Always have, always will Angel," I said.

"Then why can't you be nicer to Mom, for me?" she asked. "Why can't you just find it in your heart to try to just be friendly with her?"

"First of all, because sometimes I can't find my heart," I snapped. "That bitch in the bed tore it out while it was still beating." Sammie's eyes opened in shock at the bitterness and anger in my voice.

"I loved her Sammie. I loved that woman for more years than you've been alive. When we were together everything I did was..." I forced myself to calm down. "No Sammie, I can't be friends with her. I can't let bygones be bygones. There can't be any burying the hatchet, unless I'm burying it in her forehead. I don't even know why I'm here now."

"Daddy, didn't you already get your revenge?" she asked. "You've already crushed her spirit. What more do you need?"

"Sammie, I didn't get any revenge against YOUR MOTHER," I said. "I let HER slide. I just walked away."

"I know Daddy," she said. "I still don't understand it. You've never been the walk away type. In the two years since the divorce there are so many things that don't add up. So many things I can't figure out."

"Like what?" I asked. "We split our assets fifty/fifty except for the house."

"It just didn't make sense," she said. "Mom didn't want any of that stuff. She just wanted you. And it just seemed like you guys should have had way more money than you actually did."

"Your mom's lawyer went over all of our finances," I shrugged.

"So Dad, then why are you driving a customized Mustang that my husband claims cost at least fifty thousand dollars, when mom can't even afford a car?" she asked.

"Maybe my credit is better," I said. "Anyway, I'll sit here and play games on my iPad while she sleeps for a few hours. I'll give you a break honey. Hopefully she won't wake up. If she does I'll call you immediately. What's wrong with her anyway?"

"Daddy, Mom has been diagnosed with severe depression symptoms. She's actually on medication for it. For some reason she took all of her pills at once. We had to have her stomach pumped. She also hasn't been eating the way she should and she's been drinking too much alcohol. She's exhausted and dehydrated and we still don't know whether she took all of the pills by accident or if she was trying something," said Sammie.

"So the chances are she probably won't even wake up, right?" I asked smiling.

"Right," said Sammie. "But Daddy if she does...please be nice to her, for me."

"Okay Sammie," I said. My daughter kissed me on the cheek and left the room. I sat down in the chair next to the bed and got out my iPad.

I started out opening the book I was reading but quickly lost track of the book as my thoughts wandered back to two years ago when this had all started.

We do the strangest things for our children. When Sammie was a little girl she always tried to cook and make these weird concoctions of different types of candy. I love my daughter more than anything so whatever she made, I ate it and told her it was the best things I'd ever tasted.

I remember that she'd called her mother and me to her house for dinner. We'd had a pleasant evening. Samantha still couldn't cook. The roast was as dry as the Sahara Desert. I had a feeling that Darren knew it too because he kept bringing me more to drink any time my glass got less than halfway full. It's a good thing that I'm not really into drinking alcohol because that roast would have turned me into a drunk.

It was a pleasant evening spent with family. It was the kind of evening that you can't have too many of or so I thought at first. I got to spend some time with my namesake, Samantha's two year old son John, whom she and Darren had decided to name after me. He was such a precocious little guy. He could do no wrong in his grandpa's eyes.

The capper on the evening came when Sam and Darren told us that she was pregnant again. "Darren, what are you doing to my daughter that makes this keep happening to her?" I asked jokingly.

We talked about the usual things that one discusses when their kids are having a baby. It just seemed like things were going well. We ended up talking about what to name the new baby. We all agreed on Elizabeth after Darren's mom if it was a girl. I suggested Peter if it was a boy after Darren's dad which he liked a lot and then the bottom dropped out.

"Well you've already gotten to have one named after you, Honey," said my wife Erica. "Why not let someone else name a grandchild."

"What did you have in mind honey?" I asked joking with her. "Let me guess. You want to name her Erica, if it's a girl and Eric if it's a boy, right?"

"Well actually I was thinking about Randall," she said. "We could call him Randy for short. Randall James Dylan sounds like a nice name."

It was as if all of the heat in the room suddenly vanished. Samantha turned and looked at me. "I don't know, if I like that," she said. "I kind of like daddy's suggestion don't you Darren?"

Darren hadn't looked at me yet. He was still smiling and thinking about how happy his dad would be to have a grandchild named after him. He just nodded.

Erica reached over to grab my hand as she usually did and I pulled away from her almost violently.

Samantha hadn't noticed my expression yet. "What do you think of that suggestion Daddy?" she asked.

In the coldest tone I'd ever used on my daughter, I spoke. "I think if you named him that...It would be as big a fucking mistake as the one your mother just made."

Have you ever seen one of those scenes in the movies or on TV where everyone is at a party having a good time? There are people dancing, music playing, people are eating and drinking and laughing everywhere, then someone does something really stupid and everything just stops and every head turns towards them. Usually the music stops and you hear a sound like the needle scratching on an old record at the same time. Well it was that kind of moment.

For what seemed like an hour but was probably no more than a few seconds, no one said anything. Then Darren broke the silence in a diplomatic way. He looked at his watch and said, "Wow, I really have to get to bed. I've got an early meeting tomorrow."

"Thanks for a great evening Darren," I said. "I love you Sammie." Then I got up and headed for the door. As I was opening the door Samantha called me.

"Daddy what is wrong with you?" she asked. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Well come on over here and hug me, Sammie," I said. "I have to get out of here. I can't even breathe."

"I was talking about mom," she smirked. "I thought you didn't drink. Darren just what have you been filling my father's glass with all night?"

"It's Pepsi sweetheart," I said. "Although right now I could use some liquor."

"What is wrong with you, John?" asked Erica, coming over to me. She reached out for me again and this time I moved away from her so obviously that everyone saw it.

"We're going to talk about this when we get home honey," she said.

"WE aren't doing anything," I snapped. "I'm going back to my house. I have no idea what YOU'RE are doing or where YOU'RE going, but it's not with me."

"Wait, wait a minute Daddy," said Samantha. "You're mad at Mom because she didn't like the name you came up with?" Erica's eyes widened then because she suddenly knew that I knew.

"No honey," I said. "I'm not mad or angry at all. I've just finally come to my senses. There are times when the people who love you do things to hurt you and you just let it go. There are times when you suffer in silence because you think that if you just get past this one little thing you can go on and things will be better in the end. But then something happens that lets you know that you've suffered and made allowances for nothing. Sometimes some things just can't be let go of." Everyone in the room was looking at me except Erica. She already knew what I was talking about.

"Daddy, you're not making any sense," said Samantha.

"Sammie, your mother wants you to name my grandson after the man she's been in love with for the past fifteen years or so. The guy she had an affair with. She found out a couple of days ago that he recently died. She's trying to let his fucking memory live on in my grandson."

Both Samantha and Darren looked at Erica who had fallen to the floor and was silently sobbing. "I'm so sorry John," she said. "It's over. It's been over for more than five years. I've been trying to be the best wife possible to you."

"Why did it end Erica?" I asked.

"Because I felt so guilty," she said. "I knew that what I was doing was wrong. So I ended it. Can't we talk about this? In the first place it wasn't an affair, we only got together once a year. And we didn't even always have sex. And after I came home you and I always had the best sex we've ever had. It's been over for a long time. I love you John. We need to talk about this. You don't understand this. It's not as bad as it seems."

"It's worse than you think it is Erica," I snapped. "Maybe when the divorce is over you'll tell someone the truth. But I'm sick of you lying."

"What do you mean?" she said. "I admitted it."

"Erica if it was up to your lying ass, you'd still be seeing him," I said.

"I told you I ended it," she snapped.

"And you're lying again," I said. "I ended it."

""You...what...?" she asked.

"I went to Boston and met him five years ago," I said. "I beat the fuck out of him. He was in the hospital before your pitiful cheating ass was off of the plane. I took his phone and I got all of your texts. I'll probably be using them as evidence. I also told him who I was and let him know that the next time he came anywhere near you would be his last day on the planet. I told him that I'd also let his wife know about the two of you. I told him that if he ever tried to contact you for any reason, even just plain friendship, I'd be back. So you didn't end anything Erica. I did."

"John, I'm sorry," she said. "I was wrong, I was confused. It was a mistake."

"I'm sorry too Erica," I said. "I was wrong too. I was confused too. I made a mistake too. I was wrong to try to save this fucked up marriage. I did it for Sammie though. I didn't want her to have to deal with us splitting up until she was out on her own. I was confused too. You see, I thought that maybe in time since I loved you so God damned much that we could get past this. I made a mistake. Instead of ending this sham then, I really tried to make it work. But at least you were right, Honey. You did end something. From the first second that you uttered his fucking name tonight, you ended our marriage."

I walked right out of the house, got into my car and drove away. I spent a long time that night just driving around. The roar of my Mustang's engine and the thrill of speeding through the darkness of the moonlit night took away some of my pain. I turned off my phone so I wouldn't be disturbed. I really wasn't as upset as it seemed.

I'd known about what she'd done for over five years. And for that whole time I'd been preparing for the divorce in more ways than one. Erica was probably more shocked by tonight than I was. First, because she had no idea that I knew about her affair and secondly, because she really only found out that night why it had ended.


Screaming for Vengence



She'd flown to Boston for a conference. The same one she went to every year. She got a room in the hotel she always stayed in. The conference was a one day seminar that she always told me was two days long. After the conference ended, she had dinner with Randall. They sat there in the restaurant talking to each other until the restaurant closed. She even mentioned me a couple of times. Then when the restaurant closed they exchanged a very nice kiss and she went back to her room. Randall went out to the parking lot and his car to drive home.

As Randy got to his car, I was sitting on the hood.

"Hey that's my car," he said.

"I'm sorry," I said. "It's wrong for people to bother things that don't belong to them isn't it Randy?"

"I agree totally," he said. "Is that one of my hub caps?"

"Yep," I said smiling. "I pried it off myself. But let's not talk about hub caps Randy. Let's talk about Mary, your wife. Who right now is waiting for you at your house on Sycamore street. It's probably too late for me to go over there to talk to her right now. I should probably wait until tomorrow to visit her."

"I'm calling the police," said Randy. I pulled out my phone and tried to hand it to him.

"Randy you can call the police anytime you want. It'll be my word against yours and either way you'll lose because somehow in all of it the fact that you've been spending time with my wife, Erica, while your own faithful little wife was waiting at home for you will come out."

Randy's whole face went pale. "I'm not the sharing type of guy Randy," I said.

"I think you've made a mistake," he said. "I do know Erica, but we haven't spent any time together." He looked at me and saw how serious my face was.

"Okay, we had dinner together tonight. Some of the things we learned at the conference were interesting and we both wanted someone to talk about them with, but that's it. Nothing happened, we just lost track of time."

"Whew," I said. "You had me worried."

He smiled at me like he was glad we cleared everything up. I punched him in the face as hard as I could. He went down like a bowling pin. Then he got on his feet and started running. I threw his hubcap and caught him in the legs. He tripped over it and fell heavily again. I pounced on him and started beating him mercilessly. When I was done both of his eyes were blackened. His nose was broken and his lip was split.

"You really had me worried Randy," I said. "For a moment there I really thought that I wasn't going to get to beat the shit out of you. I know that all you had was dinner tonight. I was there. What about last year or the year before. How long has this shit been going on?"

"Maybe fifteen or twenty years," he sputtered through his busted lips.

"It's over Randy," I said. He nodded quickly. "If you so much as say her name ever again, I'll end your marriage and your life. Are we clear?" he nodded again.

"Don't visit her," I said. "Don't write her or even call her. There will be no further warnings."

"I got it," he said.

"Randy, the next time we talk won't be this pleasant," I said.

Apparently it worked. When I got back home, Erica was her usual after the conference self. She tried to kill me with sex, but I just didn't go for it. Usually, after she came back from the conference we'd go off on vacation somewhere together. That year I pretended to be too busy to get away. As hard as I tried to put the whole thing behind me, I couldn't.

A big part of my brain was in Judas Priest mode. Okay most of you don't know what I'm talking about. There's a heavy metal band called Judas Priest. Arguably their best album was the one called Screaming for Vengeance. And that was how I felt. Try as I might, I couldn't calm down. I wanted blood. I wanted someone to pay for my pain. If misery loves company, God damn it I wanted someone to be miserable with me. And I picked Randy.

Through some business connections I had, I got Randy fired. I didn't go all Snidely Whiplash and let him know that it was me who did it. It was enough that I knew. I felt great about it. I had no regrets about it at all.

It gave me the same warm glow that I once got when I did something nice for Erica to do something evil to Randy. I've spent the last five years of my life ruining his. At the same time I was sure that divorce for Erica and me was inevitable. Why didn't I confront her and file? Because despite what she'd done, I still loved her. In my heart, I really wanted to believe her and give her another chance. But my head, just as in my job, told me to be prepared for anything. I told Erica that we were under a raise freeze at work when I actually got a raise. A few months later the promotion I'd been working for the past ten years was finally mine. I didn't tell Erica. My salary nearly doubled. I diverted most of the new income into accounts that she knew nothing about. Two years later, I got another promotion and another raise. Again I told Erica nothing about what was going on.

The reason behind all of this deception was that in the case of our divorce, she'd have no idea about my actual income. She'd really believe that I was still making forty grand a year. So that's what our divorce would be based on.

And I know that all of the legal geniuses out there are thinking that there's no way that I could get away with something like that. The first thing that any good lawyer would do is go after my tax records and talk to my company's HR people to find out what I made.

The thing about it is that my boss had been absolutely raped in his divorce so he saw no problems in helping me. Officially, on the books I was listed as a mid-level manager. No one outside of the company ever even asked why all the other managers deferred and reported to me. It just seemed like the way our company ran.

Three quarters of my actual salary was regularly paid to another company that on the surface looked like one of our vendors. I was not one of that company's officers nor did I own it. All of the officers of that company were fishing buddies of mine. In exchange for the usage of their names, I took them fishing once or twice a year. They were all listed as volunteers so there were no salary or tax implications for them. The money from that company went directly into my offshore account so there was no tracing it after that.

There were a couple of times that I did withdraw some of the money. Once was after Samantha and Darren got married. I put a large down-payment on their house to start them out in their marriage without a lot of financial stress. I didn't buy the house for them outright but I put enough down that their regular mortgage payments were under a hundred dollars a month. The other time was to buy Sam and Darren a second car since they both worked and their jobs weren't in the same part of town. It just made things easier for them.

Again, even in giving the kids their gifts I had to be careful. The way I managed to give them their house and the second car actually worked in my favor and allowed me to give Erica even less money. The money for their house supposedly came from me pulling it out of my retirement package. That meant that in the case of a divorce, I'd have next to nothing in my retirement account for Erica to get her greedy cheating hands on.

To get the money for the car I ostensibly took out a loan, which even further lowered my disposable income so I'd be able to give Erica even less.

One of the great things about my situation was that Randall worked in manufacturing. He specialized in inspecting castings. My company was also manufacturing based. We owned a lot of direct to factory manufacturing concerns all across the company. I had a PI friend who lived in Boston. I had him regularly check on Randy. Every time he got a job, I'd talk to one of our account execs. If we had an account with the company Randy worked for, one of my friends had lunch with someone who worked there and Randy got fired. If we didn't have an account with Randy's new company, we got one. Then Randy got fired.

I kept a spread sheet on my computer that was dedicated to keeping track of Randy and all of his misfortunes. Some of them I didn't even cause. After a while Randy's reputation in the manufacturing community was so bad that he couldn't even interview for a job. Just before Randy passed his last jobs were in landscaping or day labor.

His misfortune had also taken its toll on Randy's marriage. His wife had gone back to work to help support the family. I never touched her or her career because I had nothing against her. I also did my best to make sure that Randy's kids got everything they deserved. I single-handedly got his daughter into law school. I invented a scholarship just for her and gave it to her.

Of course, the scholarship ended the year that she got her degree. The scholarship also deposited the full amount into an account. She was also never able to find out where the money came from. Her grades were excellent and she received a few bonuses during her time in school, from her mysterious benefactors.

The fact that he wasn't able to support his family and barely contributed to their upkeep was rough on Randy. He was a proud man and wanted to be both self-sufficient and a provider. Finding that he was neither, hurt his pride. He started drinking and over time became obsessive with it. To his credit, he never became violent or abusive towards his wife or his daughter, but towards the end he was only a shadow of the man he once was.

I also looked at the changes my actions brought about in me. I too was no longer the man I'd been when I first discovered my wife's cheating. I had always been a soft spoken, easy going guy. I'd been open and honest for most of my life. But the trauma of discovering that the woman I loved had betrayed me on a regular and continuing basis had unhinged me.

When I looked in the mirror, I didn't see a psychopath who could calmly and with relish, plan and oversee the systematic destruction of a man whose only mistake had been to have sex with the wrong woman. I still saw myself. I still saw John Forrest, all around nice guy and family man. Shouldn't a villain have some kind of recognizable traits? In the old days all of the bad guys wore black hats. Maybe I should trade my Mustang in for a black one.

But even as I'd wondered about those things, I continued. I couldn't stop myself. My shattered heart needed revenge more than healing. My soul screamed for vengeance far more than forgiveness.

Even as I watched Randy's life fall apart, I watched Erica. I found that I simply didn't trust her any more. It's a terrible thing not to have faith in the woman you've pledged to love and cherish forever, but that was one of the things that her affair with Randy did to me. It destroyed not only our marriage but my ability to trust anyone completely.

So for a full five years, while I crushed Randy under my heel, I also watched Erica and prepared for my divorce. Unlike most men who have a few days or maybe a few weeks to try to protect their assets, I had five years to prepare. I'd originally planned for more than that. Erica had been, though fading, still relatively decent looking when we divorced. I'd intended to wait until she was on the full downswing. But Randy hadn't been able to keep going for as long as I thought. For five years I'd hidden and squirreled away as much money as I could. I didn't need to worry about the house that we lived in because it wasn't ours. The home had been in my family for generations. We lived in it because my parents, who were still alive didn't need a place that big. When I went through the divorce, I made sure the lawyers knew my parents owned the house and simply allowed me to live there rent free. 

When Erica came back from the conference, she'd texted Randy about how much she'd enjoyed their dinner together and how wonderful the kiss had been. She'd also told him that she missed the times when they'd made love, but she was glad that it hadn't happened this year. She'd always felt guilty about being unfaithful to me as she was sure that Randy felt the same way about his wife.

She told him that what they had now, their sex-less romance was actually better because they could enjoy their relationship that way until they both died, with no guilt on either side. Maybe they were growing older and their love didn't need to be expressed physically, just being together was enough. That way they'd be together forever. And she ended the text with, "Until next year, my love."

I read that text as I was waiting for my luggage in the airport. I wanted to strangle Erica, and though I still loved her in some ways, my feelings for her changed drastically. Sometimes it was hard for me to hold it all together.

When Erica got home, I was sitting in the den watching a football game. She came in and wrapped her arms around me and tried to kiss me. I moved away from her and told her I had a cold and didn't want to make her sick.

"Just make sure we're better by this weekend," she said smiling.

"Why, what happens this weekend?" I asked.

"You and I are going off on vacation together, remember?" she said. "We always go after my boring conference."

"Well maybe you could do a mother daughter vacation and take Sam this year," I said. "I really can't get away from work this weekend."

"But honey, it's the weekend," she whined. "You'd really only miss two days of work. Think about it four nights and three days in Hawaii. It would be just the two of us. Thinking about it gets me hot. We might never leave the hotel room. I bought all kinds of nasty new things to wear for you."

I wondered how many of those things that Randy would have seen if they'd gotten together earlier.

"Erica, we're under a wage freeze and the company is trying to cut costs every way they can. I have to make sure that they never get the idea that I'm one of the costs they could cut," I said.

"I understand Honey," she said. "I'll go call Sam. I want you in the bedroom ten minutes after I get upstairs though."

She went up the stairs and I heard her talking to my daughter Samantha on the phone. At the same time she texted Randy again wondering whether or not he'd received her previous text. It just disgusted me.

When I didn't come to bed, she came looking for me. I dove on the couch and pretended to be asleep. Over the next few weeks I came to terms with things. It was a big adjustment. I became a far better actor than I ever thought I could be. We still had sex more or less as regularly as we had before. I don't know whether or not Erica enjoyed it as much, but I sure did.

I didn't have to concentrate on pleasing her anymore because I just didn't give a damn whether she got off or not. I had to look at things from a totally different view point. Instead of thinking about Erica as my wife that I loved, I just looked at her as some woman I was fucking.

Our sex was rawer and less loving. But at the same time it was more adventurous. Erica had always been kind of vanilla when it came to sex. During the guilt period just after the conference, when she needed to assure me that she was mine she rarely refused me anything. I started fucking her ass then. It was a first time for us even after all of those years of marriage. Before Erica could protest and tell me that she wasn't the kind of woman who did that...she was.

The next year, when conference time came around, I watched her intently, looking for a sign that she was in contact with Randy. I checked her phone account online to make sure that she hadn't received any calls from the Boston area. She hadn't received any, but she'd sent several texts to Randy's phone.

She'd become more and more frustrated that Randy never answered her. She'd tried calling a few of her friends who also knew Randy and found out that he'd had a run of bad luck. She found out for the first time that he'd been brutally beaten and robbed following the conference the previous year. He'd also been fired and no one knew where exactly he was working.

She'd sent him several texts asking him to simply meet her for dinner at her hotel. None of them were answered. Her final attempt came when she'd got one of her friends who knew Randy to go to his house and tell him that she wanted to hear from him. Randy had told the friend that he didn't remember her and since he no longer worked in the industry, saw no reason to contact her, especially since he wasn't attending the conference.

Erica was heartbroken. She'd told me that she didn't feel up to attending the conference this year after that. I told her that she needed to go. She went every year and suffered through it. This year shouldn't be any different than last year. "What's different?" I asked her point blank, even though I already knew.

My flight landed two hours after hers did. I watched her the whole day and almost blew it. Erica didn't even stay the night. She flew back home at the end of the day. While she was heading for the airport, I called her and told her how much I missed her. I told her that I had to go out of town for the evening but it didn't really matter since she'd be at her conference.

She told me that she couldn't stand us being apart and she was flying home early. I guess I'd expected her to try to hook up with another guy. But she didn't. She just went to the lectures and the expo and as soon as it was over she flew home.

The following year, she tried to get me to go to the conference with her so she could show me how boring it was. After that she simply stopped going. For the last two years Erica has been totally faithful to me. I have from time to time either watched her myself or even hired a PI for a few days. She hasn't done a thing to arouse any suspicion. If I didn't know any better I'd have thought that she was the perfect wife, at least she tried to be.

The problem was that once trust is gone, things will never be the way they were before. So when we sat out on our deck and relaxed in our big swing together, I always wondered if she was thinking about Randy and how their love would last until one of them died.

When she woke me up on a lazy Sunday morning by sucking my dick, I always wondered if she was imagining doing it to Randy. As a result, I was never able to give Erica my heart totally again. No matter how romantic she tried to make things, I always looked for an ulterior motive. For the past five years Erica has been simply a maid with benefits and a God damned expensive one. In the two years before the divorce I looked at her body often. Sometimes I felt like a farmer inspecting his crops. Yep her tits are starting to sag, I'd notice. It won't be long now. Or I'd see a few more lines on her face. We're getting there I'd think.

"Erica honey," I'd say. "Have another piece of cake. Shit, eat a big one."

"I don't want my ass to get any fatter," she'd say.

"I love your ass," I'd tell her. "So it doesn't matter." She'd smile and hug me or give me a peck on the cheek, which was all I'd allow. She was sure that I meant that no matter how fat her ass got that I'd still love her. But I meant that it didn't matter because I was sure that our marriage would be over soon. So she could eat a cow or look like one and it wouldn't matter to me.

Our life was good on the surface. We had friends that we did things with and we spent a lot of time with our daughter and her husband. Things were good for years. I actually believe that Erica had almost forgotten about her affair, or she'd thought that she'd gotten away with it. After all, five years is a long time. If nothing had been discovered after all of that time did it still matter?

A couple of days before the ill-fated dinner, one of my PI friends in Boston had given me the news. Randy had been fired from his latest job. He was working in the fast food industry. Because of his drinking, the manager wouldn't let Randy work inside the restaurant. He was taking care of the landscaping around the restaurant for minimum wage. He shoveled snow and cut grass. On other days he had to wear a costume that made him look like the restaurant's clown mascot and spin a sign that invited passing drivers to eat in the restaurant. Randy had fallen pretty far over the five years. He was now in his late forties, a college graduate who worked for minimum wage, dressed like a clown, hawking burgers.




Screaming for Vengence



All of his coworkers except for the store manager were eighteen years old or younger. They used Randy as an example of why going to college was a waste of time. One kid told his mother right in front of Randy. She'd come to make the kid quit working at the restaurant because his grades in high school had been slipping.

"What's the point Ma?" he asked her. "Even if I graduate and you and pop spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on me going to college like Randy's parents probably did back in the last century, how do we know that I won't end up back here in that damned clown suit? Shit Ma, I'm better off than he is right now and I haven't even been to college. At least I work INSIDE the restaurant and I make more than minimum wage. If I go to college I might make even less."

As I've said before, Randy had once been a proud man. Hearing the kid's sermon on the state of his life drove Randy further into depression. Randy was so distraught that he didn't pay attention to where he was flinging his sign. Some of the observers said it was on purpose others swear it was a freak accident. Randy threw the sign up in the air and it came down on a customer shocking her and knocking her bag of food out of her hands.

She started yelling at Randy and he went berserk. When the police arrived, he was still kicking one of her hamburgers down the street as if it was a street hockey puck and calling her names.

Randy was fired on the spot. He got his last check and used it to buy himself a bottle and a rope. He went home and before he started drinking, he used his college degree one last time. His degree was in manufacturing technology. He manufactured the best noose he could and climbed up onto the edge of chair and started drinking with the noose around his neck. As he drank he thought about all of the joys and mistakes in his life. He thought about his career and its downward spiral. He thought about his daughter and how she no longer respected him. He thought about his wife and how they'd once been a couple that everyone they knew envied. Now she barely tolerated him and they slept in separate bedrooms.

It hadn't been the changes in Randy's career that had doomed his marriage, it had been the way he handled each successive failure. They'd just been pulling further and further apart over the years. Part of it was that Randy was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Randy died never knowing that it had been me all along ruining him. He thought that it was just bad luck. I'd always intended to tell him someday. It would have been my final stroke of vengeance, but I never got the chance. The last thing that Randy thought about before drinking himself into a stupor, losing his balance and dying was Erica. He traced the beginnings of his bad luck to his friendship with her. He was never honest enough to admit that he'd had an affair and slept with a married woman. He blamed all of his bad luck on Erica.

After all, the start of his bad luck had been when Erica's husband had discovered them and beaten Randy's ass so bad he was hospitalized. Everything had gone downhill from there and simply never stopped going. His last thoughts were a wish that he'd never met her. His last words were about her too. "Fucking bitch," he thought as the alcohol in his system caused his brain to shut down his consciousness. When I wake up, I'll figure out some way to get back at her.

Randy's wife came home and discovered the body. It was sad that she couldn't even come up with enough emotion to cry. In a way she felt glad for him because her husband had really suffered in recent years and at least this way he could move on. He was beyond his pain and suffering.

One of Erica's former colleagues who knew her and Randy had emailed her and told her about his death and how it had come about. She'd called her and got all of the details about the last few years of Randy's life. Erica was shocked. I'd heard from my PI before Erica was notified so I knew to expect something.

She was definitely off of her game. I watched her and couldn't tell if it was because she'd lost someone that she loved or if she was just thinking about how fleeting life is. That night she tried to fuck me to death. She held onto me like she was worried about losing me. She even cried a little. When I asked her why, I didn't know what to expect.

I guess I was expecting her to tell me that she'd lost a friend from her past. But what she told me was anything but that. "I just love you so much," she said. "And I'm so glad to have you. I don't know what I'd do if anything ever happened to take you away from me."

Yeah, I know it. I'm a sucker and the bitch got to me one last time. That night the second round was different. We made love like we always used to. I did things to her that I hadn't done in years. Instead of pounding her like a drum and then going to watch the news, I spent a long time just kissing her, holding her and letting her know that I loved her too. I stupidly believed that I was healing and I could trust her again. It was as if over the past five years a scab had finally formed over my wounded heart.

The next night as we had dinner with Sammie and Darren, I held her hand as we ate and we gave each other longing glances. Samantha had even asked us why we were still so much in love after all of the years we'd been together.

Then Erica had to go and open up her big ass, flapping mouth and ruin it all by trying to get Samantha to name my fucking grandson after Randy. Things were never the same. I'd spent years preparing for the moment when all of this came to pass and I knew then why everything I did to Randy had just never been enough. It wasn't as if I hadn't done enough to Randy. What I'd done to Randy over the years had been the equivalent of unloading a full clip into him and then reloading the clip and emptying it into him again.

The problem was that Randy alone hadn't been responsible for my pain. In fact, he'd been the lesser of the two evils. Randy hadn't promised before God and all of our friends to love honor and cherish me all the days of his fucking life. That had been Erica. In fact, before I'd confronted him in Boston and whipped his ass, I hadn't known Randy at all.

What I had done for the past five years had been bad, it had been shameful and more than anything else it had been cowardly.

It was as if I'd been a normal sized high school student and one of the big hulking guys on the football team had pushed me down. So to get revenge I ran across campus and beat the shit out of one of the nerds on the chess team. Most of my revenge had been misdirected. While Randy did deserve a bit of it, Erica deserved more.

In the days following the dinner, Erica tried to come home only to have me give her all of her clothing and personal items that I'd packed for her the first night.

She called me and I wouldn't speak to her other than to tell her that I thought that this coming Saturday would be a good day for her to come over to the house and take any furniture or appliances that she thought she deserved. I suggested that she bring our daughter and son along. One of them could call me to verify that the items that she took were not against my wishes.

I told her that I'd arrange to be gone all day Saturday and I'd come back Saturday evening when she called and told me that she was done.

It didn't quite turn out that way.

When I pulled into my driveway Saturday evening and went into the house, Erica was still there. Samantha was there too and they wanted for us to sit down and have a talk.

"John, I love you," she said. "I love you with all of my heart. I'd never do anything to purposefully hurt you. I'm sorry. I'm so much sorrier than you'd ever believe."

"Oh I believe you're pretty sorry," I said. "You may be about the sorriest excuse for a wife that I've ever seen."

"Can't we talk about this?" she asked. "We've been together for almost thirty years. We can't throw all of that away over something that happened and ended a long time ago."

"John, why didn't you confront me about this when you found out? I can't imagine how much pain you've been carrying around with you for the past five years. I'm beginning to understand a lot of things now. I understand why there's been a wall between us for the past few years. This is the reason isn't it?" I sighed and nodded.

"And that last night was so wonderful," she said. "It was the best sex we've ever had. You must've found out that Randy had died. And you thought that this was all behind us until I opened my mouth." I nodded again.

"John, can you let me talk?" she asked. "I really need to get this out of my system. I know that what I did was wrong, but it's been over for years. And yes I know that you ended it and I have some questions I'd like you to answer when I'm done, okay."

"Erica, I don't have to listen to shit," I said. "I could throw you out of here right now. I am going to let you have your say but only for one reason. I want to get this divorce over with and wrapped up as quickly as possible so I can move on with my life. If I listen to you now, you'll have had your say so you won't be able to go to the courts and tell them that I never gave you a chance to talk about things. So start talking. But first there are a couple of things I'd like you to explain while you talk. When did this shit start with Randy and why?"

"Okay John, this is two thousand and ten. We got married in nineteen eighty, so I guess it started in nineteen eighty two," she said.

"So this shit's been going on for twenty-eight years?" I screamed. "I had no idea it had been that long. I guess you and Randy looked at it differently. Maybe he only counted it from when you guys started fucking," I looked at Samantha. And she looked at her mother.

"John, there's no chance possible that Samantha is anyone's child except yours," she said. "The conference is in July. Samantha was born in January, it's just not possible."

"But you kind of hoped didn't you?" I spat. "Don't tell me that the possibility of it never crossed your mind." Samantha looked at her mother and the expression on her face wasn't good.

"Sammie, angel, I love you more than life itself. For the past five years you've been the only person I could trust completely. Most of my heart is yours baby, but could we do a DNA test? It doesn't matter now in the least. I'll never treat you or my grandkids any different. I just need to verify this," I said.

"John, I already told you..." she began.

"Why should I believe anything you've ever said?" I asked calmly. "From the very start of our marriage you've been lying to me the whole time. Since our marriage is over with it means you did lie to me for the entire marriage."

"No John, it's not like that. I love you," She said. "I've always loved you. You just don't understand."

"Well, start talking," I told her. "I'm giving you time to make me understand, but you need to give it everything you've got. This is the last time we'll be speaking without going through lawyers."

"John, you're not serious," she said. "I only cheated on you once and that was years ago. It isn't worth throwing away thirty years together on. For the past five years I haven't seen or heard from Randy. You're punishing me for something that ended a long time ago. I think that's unfair. You're not thinking straight."

"I know you haven't," I said.

"You know I haven't what?" she asked.

"I know you haven't seen or heard from Randy in five years. You did try to contact him four years ago though. The year after the last conference you spent together. You tried to find out when he'd be arriving at the conference for your yearly get together, but he didn't answer any of your texts. You tried to get in touch with him through friends. The friends told you that he didn't remember you. He did but he was afraid. He knew that if he answered you I'd either beat him completely to death this time, or worse tell his wife and ruin his marriage."

"So you know that it's over," she said smiling.

"How do I know that?" I asked. "The last thing you sent to him five years ago was a text message where you told him that your love would last until one of you died. It's barely been five years. But oh, wait he is dead now isn't he. But then again maybe you weren't lying after all. You did love him enough to try to get Sam to name my grandson after him, even though it cost you our marriage."

"No John, you don't understand," she said. "You and I had only been married for two years when I went to that first conference. I met Randy there and he was the nicest guy. I missed you a lot. It was the first time I'd ever been away from you. I kept leaving the lectures to try to call you but you were working. Randy and I started talking and he just made me feel comfortable. He was so much like you. The next year we met again and we got even closer. We even had dinner together, we talked and we kept talking until they threw us out of the restaurant. I never wanted to stop talking to him, but you have to understand a lot of it was because he was so much like you. We hadn't been together for that long and sometimes I needed to run things by someone to see how you'd react to them."

"It wasn't until the fourth year that we slept together and then it was an accident. We'd both gotten really drunk and we just ended up in bed. We woke up the next morning and we were both consumed with guilt. We could barely even look at each other. We didn't even say goodbye. The next year was the fifth year. We kind of avoided each other, but truthfully I missed my friend. I was, of course, pregnant with Sam that year so unless Samantha took over a year to come to term, there's no way that he was her father."

"We didn't even have dinner or talk that year. The next year he came over and told me how sorry he'd been about everything that had happened two years prior. He blamed it on himself and told me that he thought it was stupid for us to avoid each other because of a mistake. So we had dinner and to tell you the truth for over two years I'd been wondering what sex with him had been like. We'd both been drunk and I wanted to remember what it had been like. So at that point it had been six years and we'd only slept together once. And then it had been a drunken thing."

"That year dinner was all that happened. The following year again nothing happened but there was this weird tension between us. It had started to seem like we only went to the conferences to see each other. Year eight, just to break that tension we had sex. I feel the most guilt about that one. For the past three years I'd been avoiding him and fantasizing about what sex with Randy would be like."

"It was awful. It was worse than awful. And it was boring. You already know that sex isn't really about size but Randy's equipment was not really your equal in terms of dimensions. And worse than that, I guess Randy had been with his wife for a very long time and he knew exactly the kinds of things she liked. However, they weren't the same things that I like. I realized then that I'd made a terrible mistake."

"The next year I avoided Randy again. I don't mean that I didn't have dinner with him or just didn't have sex with him. I didn't even speak to him. I basically hid. I did go over to him towards the end and pretend that I'd just run into him after looking for him for a long time. I asked him a lot of questions about his wife and then left."

"The year after that, John, we'd been going to that conference for ten years. Randy was waiting for me at the airport. He kept telling me about how special that year was. We'd been friends as he called it for ten years. It was like our anniversary or something. I ended up giving him a mercy fuck and suffering through it because I didn't want to hurt his feelings. He really was a nice guy."

"Yeah," I said. "So nice that fucking him was worth more than your own marriage."

"John, you have to understand, he really was a lot like you. And I didn't want to hurt his feelings. Plus it only happened once a year. There was nothing wild or strange about it. It was like old people sex. On the other hand look at what you and I do, there was no comparison. Randy wasn't experimental, it was like romantic sex without the romance. I've never given him a blow job. And he's only been in one place, if you know what I mean."

"Erica, you don't understand this either," I said. "You and I started getting experimental after I found out about you. Think about it. I let you give me blow jobs but I don't do you anymore. I'm not sticking my mouth anywhere that Randy's been. And I started fucking your ass because I wanted to have something that Randy hadn't had. But also because in a way I wanted to hurt you and make you do something that you didn't want to do. Until a few nights ago, the time that you just said was the best sex we ever had; you and I haven't made love either. There hasn't been any romance because on my part I was just fucking you like I'd do a whore. You were just pussy and you were available." Her face fell a little bit then.

"So for the next few years I just survived it. I knew that every year I'd look forward to being with Randy at the conference. He was a great friend. And though I dreaded it, I knew that I'd have to endure having sex with him at the end. A few years after that, I started making up excuses. One year I was on my period. The next year I put up with it. The following year I claimed that I had a yeast infection. The year after that I was on the rag again so I went about three years without having to fuck him. Then we'd do it and I'd skip a few years. The year that it ended we hadn't slept together in four or five years. He always talked about it like he really loved having sex with me, but it was like pulling teeth for me. But he was my friend. He liked hearing how much I cared for him. We often told each other we loved each other. I never really felt or meant any of that. I just didn't want to hurt him."

"So you chose to hurt me instead," I snapped.

"John, how were you hurt?" she asked. "It had gone on for over twenty years when you found out. In that same twenty years, you and I probably had sex literally over two thousand times and I loved them all. In total I had sex with Randy maybe eight times at the very max and hated every time that I can even remember."

"If it had been a case where I put Randy ahead of you, I could understand it. But that never happened. If it had been a case where I gave you sloppy seconds or did something to embarrass you, I could understand it. But that never happened. I love you too much for that. This was a once a year thing that happened so far away from where we live that no one who knows us would have been in the vicinity. So there's no way that you've been embarrassed by this. And even the year that you beat poor Randy up and ended it. It was already ending on its own. Since you know about my texts to him you probably also know that we had spoken at dinner about how much better things were that we weren't having sex, just enjoying each other's company. That relationship would have ended on its own soon anyway. I was never going to have sex with him again. That was what I meant by we were better without the guilt. I was just trying to let him down easily. I figured that the next year we wouldn't even have dinner and the following year I wouldn't even have gone. I'd have changed my cell number and everything would have been over."

"No one would have ever known that it had happened and just like you at the car shows when those models take pictures sitting on your Mustang, it would be only something pleasant to remember in our old age. You beat a nice guy up for nothing, John. He was never a threat to us. He was only a threat to your ego. I wanted to name OUR, not YOUR, OUR grandson after Randy not because he was someone I was in love with but as a last memory of a special friend." A tear rolled down Erica's cheek.




Screaming for Vengence



I started clapping my hands. "Great speech Erica," I said. "You must have rehearsed it the whole time that we've been apart."

"Sammie, you can name the baby, Randall James, if you want to. Randall James Dylan would make your mother very happy." Sammie looked at me as if I'd swallowed a rock.

"Dad, we're naming him Marshall after Darren's Grandfather. Marshall Dylan, that's his name. There's no way in the hell I'd name my son after that man, despite how Mom feels," said Samantha.

"Well Honey, at least you understand now," said Erica.

"I only wish you did Erica," I said. "It did hurt me. It hurt me because I loved you more than I ever loved anyone in my life before. I loved you far too much to ever want to share you. It hurt me because no matter what you say, a married woman who sleeps with another man even once throws away her marriage. I know there are some people who say that if it only happened once it's not a deal breaker. I'm not one of them. And this happened more than once. You had an ongoing affair for a number of years. You lied about it, you deceived me and you broke our marriage vows. Even to this day I simply don't trust you. I often follow you around to make sure you're doing what you tell me. You damaged our marriage in ways that even now have yet to surface."

"Erica, how long have I had the Mustang I'm driving now and what's different about it?" I asked.

"Uhm, it's got more horsepower," she said.

"Besides that?" I asked. She looked puzzled.

"You've never been in it," I spat. "I've had that car for nearly four years and your ass has never hit the seat. Even if the two of us go out for a drive, we take your car or the jeep. I don't trust you and I don't want you in my car. The same way I don't want you in my heart."

Erica started crying. "What can I do to fix this? It's been over for five years. This is unfair John?"

"Okay let's be fair," I said. "What if I go out and meet someone and fuck them off and on for the next twenty or thirty years?"

"John, I wouldn't like that and two wrongs don't make a right," she snapped.

"I didn't think you'd like it Erica," I said. "So if we're done, the card on the table has my lawyer's contact information on it. Give it to your guy when you get him. Please try to find someone quickly. I don't want to stretch this out any longer than necessary."

"John, I don't want a divorce," she cried. "This has been over for five years."

"Samantha, get her out of here, before I have to make things unpleasant," I said. Samantha grabbed her mother by the arm and pulled her to the door.

In the days that followed our confrontation, Erica did everything she could to speak to me. Often our daughter and son had to serve as go-betweens since I had nothing further to say to her. I tried explaining to her that she'd had her opportunity to speak and say her peace and I was still un-swayed.

What neither of us realized, was that while Erica was staying with Samantha and Darren, it was affecting their relationship as well. Erica cried a lot, which made Samantha, who was always the one calming her down and soothing her ruffled feathers, the one who she spoke to the most. Over a few weeks, Erica's influence seemed to be affecting Sammie. She even spoke to me about it. Once while I was having dinner with Sam and Darren, it happened. I'd invited the two of them out so I could explain to them that even though Erica and I would no longer be together, my feelings and relationship with the kids would remain unchanged.

I'd still drop by to visit them and we'd still go out. There would be no need to pick and choose who could or couldn't attend certain functions for fear of upsetting anyone.

"So Daddy, there's absolutely no chance that you and Mom can patch this up?" asked Sammie.

"I don't think so, Angel," I told her.

"But why Dad?" she asked. "Mom loves you so much. And it's not like she was out doing it all the time, or even doing it with people you know. And you apparently beat the crap out of the guy. Plus Jeezus, she did it less than once a year. If you average it out it's like once every three years that she actually slept with the guy. When you compare it to how often I used to sleep with a pillow over my head growing up it really doesn't mean much. Can't you just..."

"Stop Sam," said Darren sharply. Darren was a quiet guy. He didn't often say very much. But this time he was forceful.

"What if it was me?" he asked. "What if I started screwing my secretary every so often? Not every day, just once a month or once every couple of months. What if you didn't find out until we were in our fifties? Would it hurt you any less? And since it wasn't very often would that make it right or at least not so bad?"

Samantha looked at him seriously. "You're not are you?" she asked quietly.

"Well, she's younger than us and she's hot," said Darren.

"I was hot until you started pumping me full of your babies," snapped Samantha. "So just because I've gained a pound or two and my stomach isn't as tight, it gives you the right to start screwing Tammy?"

"God Sam, it's not going to be forever. Eventually she won't be hot either. Then I'll start being faithful to you again," said Darren.

Samantha's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry Sam," I love you so much, so I wanted you to know.

Samantha stood up and Darren grabbed her arm. "Sammie, I'm sorry," he said. "I am not, nor will I ever sleep with Tammy or anyone except you. And you are still hot. You are the hottest woman on the planet, to me. But I did want you to know something. I wanted you to know how your dad feels. And this had to be far worse for him because it lasted far longer and they'd been married longer."

"I'm so sorry Daddy," said Sam. I guess I've been listening to Mom too much. She kind of convinced me that what she'd done wasn't that bad. And no one wants to hear their mother crying so I just put how you felt out of my mind."

"Plus Honey, there's the fact that your dad actually did give her a second chance. When he broke up the affair, he never even mentioned it to her. He didn't make her feel guilty about it or punish her, it was like he just gave her a clean slate, but she couldn't let go of her feelings for that guy. Do you realize how much that must have hurt him over the years? Then, when you think about how much he loves our kids, his grandchildren, can you imagine having your grandson named after the guy your wife betrayed you with?"

"Your mom either has a total lack of respect for your father or she thinks he's stupid. Even suggesting that was a slap in the face. I know that my opinion doesn't matter much here, but I think your dad is right. I also don't really like the influence your mom is having on you."

Erica did not go gently into that good night. She fought the divorce tooth and nail. As usual, she tried to be smarter than everyone else. She called me at work to tell me that she'd found her lawyer and she'd drop off his contact information. She'd stop by the house on her way to her date that evening.

"Erica, you don't have to do that," I said. "Why ruin your date. Why not just read me the information over the phone or simply give your lawyer the card I gave you my lawyer's info on it."

"I don't have it right now," she said. "I just remembered to call you. I'm at the beauty shop getting pretty for my date, but when I get home I'll get the card and do what you said."

"So should I call my lawyer and tell him that you'll call him in about ten minutes?" I asked.

"Why ten minutes?" she asked.

"You said you were getting pretty. You've always been beautiful Erica. So there's no reason for you to ever need to be in a beauty shop for more than five or ten minutes. They can't improve on something that was already perfect," I said.

"I have to go," she said. I was sure she was crying again.

A few minutes later my phone rang again. I answered it. "Daddy, I know she's wrong but why can't you just leave her alone? Why do you have to constantly make her cry? Isn't divorcing her enough?"

"Samantha, what are you talking about?" I asked.

"Mom just got off the phone and started crying," she said. "I checked the number of the last call and it was you."

I explained the whole phone call to Samantha and she apologized. "Daddy, she isn't at the beauty shop and there's no date that I know of. Mom is just trying to play games with you. I think she was trying to make you jealous. Do you really think mom is beautiful?"

"I always have Sammie," I said. "That and her personality were the two things I loved most about your mom. I know you don't see it. Most people never view their parents that way, but your mom really is a very pretty, very sexy woman. And I loved her so much. I guess that's why I was so irate at that Randy guy. He was trying to take away the person that gave my life meaning. "

"Then Daddy, why can't you give her one more chance?" she said.

"Because, Baby, I did that. It's been the worst five years of my life. Every time she leaves the house, I wonder where she's going and who she's with. If she could have an affair halfway across the country, why couldn't she have one here that I didn't know about?" I asked.

"I love your mom but I can't trust her. Remember the other night at the restaurant? Remember when Darren told you about screwing his secretary? Tell me that you haven't thought about that since then. Even after he told you that it had never happened and never will, you're wondering aren't you? Well, the difference for me is that I don't have to wonder. Your mother did cheat on me. And it wasn't a one-time thing. It was spread out over a very long period of time. She could have stopped any time she wanted to. She chose to continue it until I stopped it for her. If I hadn't, despite what she said, she'd probably still be screwing that guy."

Erica's lawyer insisted on counseling. My lawyer insisted that I attend, so I went. For the first two weeks I took magazines to read during the sessions. The doctor asked me why I refused to participate. I told him he was beating a dead horse. The court could make me come to the sessions but they couldn't change the way I felt. They could talk about feelings and reasons and forgiveness up the ass, but they couldn't force me to stay married to Erica. So I was willing to jump through the hoops and all of that bullshit but I wouldn't stay married to her.

In the end it took 8 months. That was almost three times as long as it should have been. Erica's lawyer went over my records from work with a fine tooth comb. He was very suspicious.

"His records are too perfect," he said. "They're too thorough, too well prepared. It's almost as if he's been expecting this to happen."

Luckily, he found everything he needed to find and didn't look for anything else. He was still able to convince the judge that the house though not belonging to me was still an asset because I didn't have to pay anything to stay there. All I did was to pay the property taxes each year. So he looked at the average amount I'd have to have spent for a mortgage or to rent a similar sized house. He added half of that value and gave it to Erica. I also had to pay her four hundred dollars a month in alimony for three years.

As I've mentioned before, I totaled it up and wrote Erica a check. When she asked me where I'd gotten the money, I told her that I'd taken out a loan. I'd simply make regular payments to the bank each month instead of having to pay her. I didn't want to have to see her or deal with her for a long time.

As soon as we were out of court with the papers signed, I went on the first of several vacations. I went on a cruise because I'd never been on one. It was far too early for me. Most of us have seen those movies or TV shows where everyone on a cruise ends up meeting someone and making lots of new friends right? I didn't meet a single person and spent the entire cruise in my cabin.

Every time some woman looked at me, I bolted. It was, as I said, too soon. My next vacation was a trip out west to what they used to call a dude ranch. That was a disaster as well. There were too many dudes on the trip. I think some of them thought it was some kind of Brokeback mountain thing.

The final vacation I took was called cruising 66. It was a road trip from Chicago to Los Angeles. It was all one long cruise down historic route 66. There were all kinds of cars on the cruise from classics to modern muscle. The organizers arranged different tour packages for all budgets and types. There were accommodations plans both for those who wanted to camp out on the way and for those who liked the comfort of hotels or motels. Both groups were invited to parties and activities each evening as well as meals at restaurants and eateries along the trip.

I looked at it as a chance to get to know my car better. I'd started thinking of my Mustang as my girl anyway. When I started the trip, I saw it as just me, my Mustang and my music. It'd be a chance to think while I drove each day and really start to look at what I wanted to do with the next twenty or thirty years of my life. Most of all, I needed to figure out what I'd do without Erica. Because though I realized that my life truly would be better without her in it, my heart still ached for her.

I was wrong again. I guess I saw myself as some kind of lost and lonely divorced guy trying to find his way alone in a new and challenging world. Nothing could have been farther from the truth. I wasn't alone. I was with my people. Wherever you go in the world there are thousands of us and when we get together, it's awesome.

Every single one of us is sure that the car he loves is the best example of automotive art ever created. I started out trying to stay in the back of the crowd listening to the announcements before we took off. I was never allowed to be alone or lonely unless I was going to sleep.

"Hey Bud, God damn that Stang is pretty," said one old timer. "I had one before I discovered that the Lord intended this old man to drive Corvettes. But it was nothing like yours. How much Horsepower does that thing put out?"

Everywhere we went, at every meal or stopping point, anywhere from one to five of my new found friends would join me and engage me in a conversation about our mutual likes or dislikes. There were guys who'd seek me out and draw me into a conversation about whether or not I believed foreign cars should be allowed on a cruise of a classic American highway. I told them that we needed to stop squabbling amongst ourselves, cars are cars. There's enough room for everyone. Most of the people at the table agreed with me. That led one old timer to stand up and declare that I was right. All of the car nuts should bond together to wipe out our true enemy...Bikers who were the scum of the earth. Naturally, I got out of that conversation too.

I also met several really nice women during the cruise. There are ladies who are just as fanatical about their cars as any man. There was even a woman on the cruise who ended her marriage because her husband wanted to drive her car. He was telling all of his friends that her classic 69 Camaro was his and he occasionally allowed her to drive it.

Things got interesting when he had a few of the guys come over and they caught her bent over under the hood changing the oil. The true owner of the car came out and hubby was so embarrassed that he told her she had to choose between him and the car. She hasn't seen him since.

I met a lot of ladies on the cruise that I thought would make great friends but at that time I wasn't looking for a replacement for Erica. What it did do for me though was to let me know that there was life after her and maybe another life partner someday as well. I came home with a completely different attitude. I was no longer depressed and lonely and I loved my Mustang at least twice as much.

It was about that time that I first ran into Erica again. We were both attending the wedding of a friend of ours. She'd invited us both. It was her second marriage, her first real one, she called it and she went all out.

The most shocking thing for me was seeing Erica. She'd always been beautiful to me, but seeing her there made me question my eyesight and my sanity. Erica had changed in the year since we'd separated. She was rail thin and her face seemed drawn. Her hair was arranged in an up do that made it appear to be shellacked to her head. Her face held what seemed like a permanently dour expression and she had suitcases under her eyes.

I stood there staring at her until I felt someone elbow me in my side. "Go over to her and say something nice, Daddy," said Samantha beside me. "And I need to ask you a favor later on."

I forced my feet across the room. "Hey, Erica," I began. "You've lost weight. Is that a new hairdo?"

She snapped her head around so quickly when she heard my voice that I thought her neck would come off. Her eyes lit up as well.

"Do you like it?" she asked smiling. "And all of the women on TV are on the diet I tried. I didn't want to be one of those old ladies whose ass spreads because they're less active."

"Erica, you were always beautiful to me," I said. "I think that you should pay less attention to trends and more to what you feel. I'm sure your hair was expensive and it's very fashionable, but I always loved your hair long and loose. It framed your beautiful face so much better. It called attention to all of your best features, like your eyes and those dimples."

Erica's smile lit her face back up.

"And I know that we're not married anymore, so I might be a little bit rude telling you this, but get off of the diet. Don't worry about your ass spreading, because I always loved spreading it for you. I'm sure whoever you're with next will agree with me. Curvier woman are just better. Throw away the salad and get yourself a burger. If there's anyone I know who is beyond the fashion and diet trends it was always you, Honey."

As I walked off to find someone else to talk to, Erica just looked dazed behind me. For the rest of the time that I was there she was always looking at me and trying to get near me again. I avoided her without making it obvious that I was doing so.

The next day I spoke to my daughter on the phone. "Dad, you were great at the wedding. Mom is happier than I've seen her since you guys broke up. She ate more food last night than she had in the three days before. I asked her why and she said that my father would probably like her better if she got her titties back. Exactly what did you say to her?"

"I don't remember saying anything about her breasts," I said. "I just told her that she'd always been beautiful to me and maybe she shouldn't worry so much about the diet. Shit, Sammie, your mom is fifty just like I am. She doesn't need to be a stick figure. Even a dog wants some meat on his bones."

"Anyway Dad," said Sammie. "I need you to do something for me."

I looked at her suspiciously.

"Relax Daddy," she smirked. "It doesn't have anything to do with mom. I have a friend who is trying to get a degree. She is awful in math and she has to take both Algebra and Trig. I remember how great you were at teaching me when I went through both high school and college."

"Don't they have tutors?" I asked.

"Dad, this is an unusual situation," said Samantha. "First off, she's older, but not as old as you. She works nights, so she can't get to a lot of the tutoring sessions. And Shelly has a really unusual personality. Could you just try this, for me? Besides it's not like you really have a lot to do anyway."

So I went to meet my daughter's friend. She was a redhead and at first I thought she was fat. Samantha had told me that the woman was deformed and had body issues. She was very soft spoken and seemed to lack confidence. It was a warm day when we met at a Starbucks downtown.




Screaming for Vengence



She brought her book and I started going over some of the things she didn't understand from the chapter her class was working on. Unfortunately, she didn't have a good grasp of the previous material either so I decided that we should probably go back a couple of chapters and really work at improving her grasp of the basic concepts and then try to catch up to the class. She agreed and we set up a few study sessions during the week. I found myself really liking her for some reason. And I started to wonder how her deformity, whatever it was, affected her.

The next time we got together it was still at Starbucks and we worked for about three hours and she came out of her shell a bit. This went on for a few weeks and we became more and more comfortable with each other. I often found myself losing my train of thought or getting lost in her eyes when we talked. Finally one week, just before the weekend session on Thursday afternoon, I asked her if she'd like to come to my house. The days were getting steadily warmer and I told her we could do two sessions on Saturday afternoon before she had to go to work and she'd be more comfortable and she wouldn't have to wear her coat. She looked at me and smiled.

"I'd love to study at your home," she said. "I'm not sure about the coat. I wear my coat for my security and your protection."

"Shelly, I'd never stare at you or try to make you feel uncomfortable," I said. "Surely you know that by now. You can't help the way you were born. Deformities are nothing to laugh at, but they're also nothing to be ashamed of." She started laughing.

"Who told you I was deformed?" she asked.

"Samantha did," I said.

"Mr. Forrest, Samantha was being facetious. I'm not actually deformed depending on how you look at it. I guess I'm just fat."

"Then there's no problem," I said.

"Oh yeah, there's a problem," she said. "Look, do you have a computer?" she asked. I just looked at her strangely. "Google Mal Malloy," she said. "Take a look at the videos. I have the same problem. I'll call you tomorrow and we can figure out what we're doing Saturday." As she left the table she brushed my hand and I realized I had a problem. This woman couldn't have been much older than thirty. She was a child compared to me.

When I got home there were ten messages in my voice mail. They were all from Erica. We'd been divorced for nearly a year. I couldn't figure out why she wanted to talk all of a sudden. The phone rang and I expected it to be her. But luckily it was Samantha.

"Dad everything is fucked up and it's my fault. What are you going to do?" she asked me.

"Slow down Baby girl," I said. "What are you talking about?"

"Mom," she said. "Remember at the wedding when I made you say nice things to her? Well she's gone nuts. She's eating again and she went back and got her hair styled all over again to be more the way she thinks you like it. She thinks she's going to get you back and it's my fault. Then, Dad, I don't know what happened between the two of you, but I think Shelly likes you. I know she's way too young for you and she's deformed, but Dad, she's a really nice person. So do whatever you have to do to let her down easy. She has some self-esteem issues. And you don't even want to know what she does for a living."

I didn't want to make a mistake with Erica. I was glad that she was out of her depression, but there was no way I could ever see myself getting back with her. There was simply too much water under that bridge. On the other hand I was intrigued. What the hell would interest Shelly in me? Shelly's face was beautiful. Often when we were studying, while she worked on a problem I found myself staring at her. She had the most wonderful smile. Her lips were thick and I wondered what it would feel like to not only kiss them but to just chew on those lips.

I guess my life was always going to be feast or famine. For almost a year, I hadn't met or even spoken to any women except the ones I met on the route 66 road trip. Now there were two women interested in me; one that I didn't want and the other that I couldn't have.

While I thought about my problem, I turned on my computer. I went to Google and typed in the name that Shelly had mentioned. I got all kinds of results and a bunch of questions. I saw a lot of terms that I simply didn't understand. What the hell is a PAWG? 

I looked at one of the videos. Apparently it was some kind of video blog about a woman trying to lose weight. The woman in the video was really cute. She looked a little bit like Shelly. I could tell that it wasn't her though. The hair was wrong. The facial features were wrong too. Was Shelly trying to tell me that she needed to lose weight? Was that the problem? If it was it wouldn't bother me in the least.

I'd started by watching some of the earlier videos in the series. But a few videos into the list my eyes nearly popped out of the sockets and my dick nearly ripped its way through my pants.

The only person who thought that woman was fat was herself. She was voluptuous to an astounding degree, but no man would ever call her fat. She had the most perfect hourglass figure ever. She had generous breasts and an extremely small waist that simply ballooned out to form the most incredible ass on the planet.

Apparently as her videos went on she spoke less and less about dieting and her weight loss as thousands of men started contacting her and asking to see the body that she wanted to lose. Her videos started more and more to be filled with scenes of her wearing less and less clothing. The less clothing she wore the more viewers she got.

Her videos of her just being a normal girl talking about losing weight, but the videos of her in a bikini or lingerie were more erotic than most porno videos that showed full nudity and penetrative sex.

I was in shock. I wasn't really thinking as I absent mindedly picked up the phone on its first ring.

"John, do you want to come over and have dinner with us and see your daughter and son and your grand kids? I'm going to cook a roast the way you like it with the carrots and potatoes," asked Erica.

I didn't know what to say. I guessed that I always told everyone that I wanted us to be comfortable. I didn't want the kids to have to pick and choose and feel awkward about having both of us over. So I said okay.

I drove over thinking it was going to be a relaxed family dinner. When I got there, Darren was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. We sat around talking for a few minutes and then Erica came down the stairs. She was dressed to the nines. She had on a brand new dress that showed a lot of leg. In the few weeks since the wedding she'd put on a few pounds. She wasn't back at her normal weight yet but she was looking healthier. Her hair was brushed and flowing freely again. She looked much better than she had at the wedding with the over-done make up and shellacked hair.

She smiled at me and came over to sit down right next to me. "The roast will be done in about twenty minutes," she said. "Sammie is upstairs trying to give your grandsons a bath."

She'd latched onto my arm and was just staring at me. Darren picked that moment to go and check on the wine for dinner. "We're having wine?" I asked.

That was the way the whole evening went. I was constantly finding myself alone with Erica smiling at me. The food was really good. When you've gotten used to someone cooking for you for most of your life and it's suddenly gone, you appreciate it even more.

That made me think about the last time the four of us had roast together. It was the time when Samantha had tried to kill us with her bone dry roast and Erica had caused our divorce by suggesting that we name our grandson after Randy.

After dinner Samantha got up to do the dishes. Darren decided to help her so Erica asked me if I wanted to go for a walk or out on the porch.

"If we were back in our house, we'd be out on our deck," she said. "That seems like a different lifetime but it's been barely a year."

"It does seem like it was a long time ago," I said.

"John, have you had sex since our divorce?" she asked.

"Sure," I said. "Lots of times."

"Oh," she said sadly. "I guess I deserve to have this happen to me."

"Have what happen to you?" I asked.

"I haven't had sex with anyone since the last time you and I did," she said. "I guess I haven't been trying to find anyone. So are you just messing around with a bunch of women...or?"

"Nope," I said. "I'm in a committed relationship." I smiled. She looked down at her feet. I thought for a second that she was going to cry.

"So who's the lucky lady?" she asked.

"It's not a lady," I smirked. She looked shocked.

"Who've you been having sex with," she asked.

"My hand Erica," I smirked. "What did you expect? We were married for a long time and I loved you like there was no tomorrow. I'm going to need time before I just jump up and start having sex with someone. It's going to take me some time to get over you. It's going to take some time to find someone to start making new memories with so I can block out the memories of our last few years together."

"Why do you need to block them out?" she asked. "They were great years John."

"They were great years for you, Erica," I said. "They were torture for me. You knew that I loved you more than anything else in the world. But all I knew was that you'd been lying to me for a long time. All I knew was that you had betrayed me in the worst way possible over and over again. You knew that I belonged to you. I knew that I had to share you with someone else occasionally and during those times he was obviously more important than I was."

"That's not how it was, John. It was never like that," she said. "You still don't see this the right way. There was never anyone else for me either. I loved you just as much as you loved me. I still do. I just fucked Randy a few times. Randy is dead John. There's no reason for us to even talk about him," she said.

"You're right," I said. "But if you know that why did you bring him up?"

"I didn't bring him up," she said. "I started out asking you if you were having sex with anyone and it turned into an argument, as usual. I just wanted to find out something. I wanted to ask you a question and the conversation just went the wrong way."

"Then let's talk about something else," I said. "Or maybe, it's still too soon. Maybe we shouldn't talk. Maybe we should just look at this like we had a great evening with our kids and call it a night. Maybe I'll see you again sometime in the future. This wasn't that bad. We made it through dinner before we started sniping at each other. That bodes well for the future."

She nodded her head but her face didn't seem to agree with it. Her eyes were narrow as if she was fighting to hold back her tears. "It's a beautiful night," I said changing the subject.

"Do you know what would make it better?" she asked quietly.

"A cold beer," I said.

"I was thinking more of having your hot dick in my warm pussy," she said. I started choking and had to take a few deep breaths.

"John, neither one of us is getting any younger. And more than that neither one of us is getting any. You said it yourself. It takes time to find someone to be with. So until you do, why can't we have sex with each other?" she asked.

"For one thing," I sputtered. "I'm supposed to be trying to get over you. If we were sleeping together, I'd probably never get over you."

"Who says you have to get over me?" she asked. "John, God damn it, I made a mistake. And I lost you for it. We are no longer married. I destroyed my family. I miss you so much at night that it hurts me. I go to sleep every night imagining you balls deep in some skank. Now I find out that you're wasting your efforts jacking off. I made you an offer. You can just come and pick me up, take me back to our house and fuck me. You can have me and then just drive me back home or keep me and have me for the whole night and bring me back in the morning. You could even keep me for a few days if you want."

I looked at her crazily.

"I can tell you like the idea," she said. "Because the boy scouts in your pants are pitching a tent."

"But..." I said.

"But nothing," she said. "You've already stuck it up my butt. You're the only one who ever has. And you can do it again." She moved over near me and started rubbing her hand up and down my pants covered crotch.

"I appreciate the offer, Erica," I said tensely. "But I'm not sure that given our situation, it's the right thing to do."

I backed away from her and headed for my car. "Tell the kids I said Goodnight," I said.

As I pulled away from the curb, my phone rang.

"The offer is always open," she said from the phone.

The next morning I went out for my normal run still wondering about the events of the previous evening. I had either done the dumbest thing possible or the smartest and I had no idea which. As I walked into the house and grabbed the towel that I left in the entry hall, I heard my phone ringing. It was only 10 a.m. I wondered who the hell would be calling me that early.

"Hi John, it's me Shelly," she said. "So uhm, are we still on?"

"Of course, Shelly," I said. After last night I'd almost forgotten.

"John, did you look at the website and videos I told you about?" she asked.

"Well yeah, some of them," I said. "I still don't understand what they had to do with math?"

"Well...what did you think?" she asked.

"I really don't know what you want me to think or what I'm supposed to be thinking about," I said.

"What did you get out of the videos?" she asked.

"Well there's this pretty young woman," I started. "I don't think she's as pretty as you are, but she was cute." I heard her sigh over the phone.

"She started out trying to lose weight. I think that woman have it really bad now-a-days because the internet and the media have all you women thinking that they're supposed to all be the same size and same shape. If you're not a size two or whatever, you're fat. That young woman has an incredible body. But all of her women friends probably convinced her that she needed to lose weight. She started posting her videos and found out that most men don't think she needs to at all."

"What did you think, John?" she asked.

"I think that what really matters is how a woman feels about herself and how the people she loves feels about her. Beauty comes from the inside," I said.

"John, did you like her body or not," she asked.

"It doesn't matter whether I like her body," I said. "What matters is that she be happy in her own skin. Anyway what does this have to do with Algebra?"

"Did you like it or not?" she asked.

"Why?" I asked.

"Did you like it or not?" she asked again, a bit more firm this time.

"I think she's probably the sexiest woman I've ever seen in my entire life," I said.

"In spite of her big fat ass and those thick thighs?" she asked.

"Nope," I said. "...Because of her big ass and those thick thighs. If I were younger, I'd love to have those thighs wrapped around me. And..." I began.

"I've already got your address," she said. "I'll be over at noon."

I don't know why but I was nervous. It was as if I sensed that something was about to change. I beat the steaks almost to a pulp as I prepared them for the grill. All kinds of things were running through my mind. I was thinking about my ex-wife's proposition. I was thinking about going away on another trip and I was thinking a lot about the videos that Shelly had wanted me to watch.

When Shelly arrived, clad in her familiar long bulky coat, I was almost relieved. I showed her through the house and told her to make herself comfortable. She smirked at me a little bit and shook her head. It was almost as if she was playing a secret joke one me and I'd be getting the punch-line soon.

I grabbed her book bag that she'd left by the door and lead her out onto the deck. "This is so beautiful," she said.

"Well the pool isn't big enough to swim laps in," I said. "It's more of a jump in and cool-off pool. And the hot tub is really only big enough for two people and they really have to know each other pretty well, because they're going to be very close together." She smiled at that.

"I love the deck though," I said. "We built it ourselves and made a lot of mistakes doing it. But it was fun learning. There isn't much furniture because we always thought of this not as a place to entertain but a place for US time."

"I'm sorry," she said. She came over and stood in front of me. She reached up very slowly as if I was an injured bird and she didn't want me to try to fly off. She wiped the corners of my eyes with both hands and they came away with traces of moisture. I hadn't realized that I'd cried a bit while thinking and talking about building and landscaping the yard. Even though I hadn't mentioned Erica's name, I guess the memories were still far more potent than I wanted to admit.

The contact between us was incredible. Her hands felt so soft and so warm. She did the strangest thing then. She wiped one of her hands off on her coat but she licked the fingers on the other. "Mmm, salty," she said.

"Sammie told me a little bit about your divorce. You must miss her something awful to still tear up after all of this time," she said. "It's really a good thing, especially from a guy. That just makes it incredible. And it makes you even more special." I just shrugged my shoulders.

"Can I ask you something that's a little bit personal?" she said. I nodded.

"Why is it that the two of you can't just get back together? I'm not trying to pry. But it just seems so silly. Sammie just told me that you were divorced. She also told me on several occasions that her mother is driving her crazy with schemes to get you back. I've never met her mother, but she seems insistent on it. And then I see that you really miss her too. It just doesn't seem to make sense. If the two of you love each other that much, why can't you..."

"She cheated on me," I said sharply. My voice hadn't gotten any louder but the venom in it carried just the same. "It wasn't a one-time thing, it went on for years. I've tried to get over it but I simply can't. The betrayal cut me too deeply. I had my revenge on him after a fashion. And I tried to put it behind us, but I simply found myself never able to trust Erica again. She never gave me any reason not to trust her, but I just couldn't get over it. She tried to justify it and minimize it and even apologize for it, but none of that made it any better. In the end I had to move on. Life is too short to spend it with someone you don't trust. And not being able to trust a person just eats away at a relationship. Erica is desperate to regain what we had. I'm desperate to move on to something better."

"Oh..." was all she said. I had the feeling that she understood what I was talking about far more than I expected.

"Well, at least you were fortunate enough to have someone who wanted to be with you long-term," she said. "You had someone to build a life with and you have Samantha and your grandkids. I envy you that so much."

"Oh God, Shelly," I said smiling. "You're beautiful. You could probably have all kinds of guys."

She started laughing then. I got up and put the steaks on. "How do you want your meat?" I asked.

She tilted her head and looked at me as if she'd taken the question totally differently from the way I'd meant it. "Do you like your steak rare or medium?" I asked, rephrasing the question.

"How do you like yours?" she asked.

"Well I'm a well done guy," I said.

"Then I'm a well done woman," she smiled. "Are you trying to get out of our conversation?"

"Sorry, I just don't like talking about the past and my ex. There's no possibility of going back there, but sometimes it's still painful talking about it or thinking about it," I said.