Second Chance Boo 02

As always, my thanks to ErikThread for his editing skills. Any errors are mine.

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Chapter 9:

"Come in, Brent. It's so nice to see you again," June Francis said with a genuine smile. "Walter's in the living room, as usual."

"Thanks, June. How's he feeling?"

"Not too bad today. Yesterday wasn't so good, but you know, that's how it is -- some good days and some bad ones. I'll get you two your usual tea and bring it in."

"Thanks, June." Brent walked into the living room to greet his friend and former customer. "Afternoon, Walter."

"Afternoon. What brings you over here this afternoon? Missing out on the usual cribbage game?" he laughed, and then coughed a deep, hacking cough.

"Yah, well, you know me. I can't resist relieving you of your pension money."

"You wish!" Walter wheezed.

It was the typical banter of two friends who had known each other for the eight years that Brent had been employed at Mountain Pine. When Walter was the purchasing manager for their largest client, he and Brent had hit it off very early on, as Brent was anxious to learn from the experienced older man and Walter was pleased to oblige. When Walter was diagnosed with lung cancer a year ago, both he and June knew it was inoperable and ultimately terminal. He accepted his fate with dignity, and Brent had visited him many times during his various hospital stays. They would play "crib" and talk about almost anything except the cancer.

In earlier days, Jeanette, June, Walter and Brent would get together for picnics, dinners and barbeques. With the twenty-three year difference in age, it was much like a father-son relationship, and it was on that basis that Brent visited Walter today. He needed his advice and guidance more than ever right now. Maybe Walter could help him right this ship, he thought.

Walter pulled the cribbage board out from under the table and set up the pegs while Brent shuffled the cards. It only took a few minutes for Walter to ask the first question.

"So, what's bothering you, young fellow? That fortieth birthday thing got you depressed?" he laughed lightly, trying not to start another coughing fit.

"No, nothing that easy, Walter." Brent sighed and leaned back in his chair, looking at his cards but not seeing them. He finally looked up at the patient face of his friend and began to tell him the story of yesterday's bombshell. Walter's face mirrored the shock and pain of Brent's discovery and he shook his head afterwards.

"I'd never have guessed Jeanette would ever do anything like that," he said. "It's so uncharacteristic of her. What got into her? Have you talked to her?"

"No ... not yet. It just happened yesterday and I'm still trying to digest it myself. I don't even know how to begin to talk to her about it."

It was June who came up with a suggestion. "Brent ... what if I were to phone her ... talk to her and see what she can tell me about it. Maybe it will give you a starting point," she proposed.

He thought about June's offer for a moment. "Look June, I don't want to involve you in our family problems. I have to figure a way out of this. I appreciate the help, but I think it's asking too much of you."

"Nonsense. We're friends and I know Jeanette well enough to know that this isn't the real 'her.' Please let me try, and then we can see where to go from there."

Brent looked at June for several moments before answering. "Alright, June. It can't hurt. I guess I need all the help I can get right now," he confessed. "Thank you. It's a very kind thing to do."

"Do Lloyd and Henry know?" Walter asked.

"Yes, I met with them today. I offered my resignation, but they've put it on hold to see if they can't come up with an alternative. I don't know what that could be. I'm sure the word is all over the company by now. The gossip-mongers will be having a field day."

"I'm sure they will," the older man nodded. "Have you thought about what you would do if you resigned?"

"Not really. I guess I'll have to cross that bridge when I come to it. I'm not too worried about finding a job -- it's just that ... this was the job I loved and companies like Mountain Pine are few and far between," he said sadly.

"Yah ... you're right about that. I guess the only advice I can give you is to make sure to find something you genuinely want to do. You can afford to be choosey with your reputation, and when you're starting over, you want to make sure you like what you're doing and who you're doing it for."

Brent nodded in agreement. In his thoughts, he wondered if he would get the chance to pick and choose where he would work. When he recalled why all that was a necessary concern, he got angry at Jeanette. At forty years of age, he would be starting all over again and if he were honest with himself, Jeanette was entirely responsible and he wasn't very happy with her.

Chapter 10:

Jeanette rushed to the phone as it rang for the third time. Surely it would be Brent. It had to be Brent.

"Hello?" she said, expectantly.

"Jeanette, it's June Francis."

"Oh ... hi June." She was afraid to ask her if she had heard from Brent.

"Are you OK, Jeanette? I know what happened. Brent was here. He wanted to talk to Walter. He's very upset and uncertain right now. He doesn't know what to say to you."

With that, Jeanette broke down and began sobbing, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh, June, I don't know what to do. I've been so stupid and I don't know how to fix it," she wailed.

"No ... I'm sure you don't," the older woman said sympathetically. "Do you know what you will tell Brent when he asks you why?"

"I'm not sure. I don't even know how to answer that to myself. Is he ever going to call me? Will he ever come home? I can't take much more of this, June." Her voice was cracking and she was on the edge of control.

"Yes, Jeanette. He isn't running away. He's trying to understand how to handle this. That's why he came here. He's mystified and angry, I think. He doesn't know what to do. He knows he has to talk to you, but he's trying to get a grip on himself. You know what he's like. He wants to be calm and rational. He wants to understand. You need to think about what you can tell him about your actions. You must have thought about it before you did it. You must have known it was a risk. If you don't know what got you up on that stage, then I don't see how Brent would be able to understand either."

Jeanette was quiet and lost in her thoughts when June finished.

"Are you alright, Jeanette?"

"Yes ... yes ... I was just thinking about what you said. I need to understand for myself. I need to remember how it all happened. He needs to know, doesn't he?"

"It won't be easy, Jeanette. Try and stay calm and remember something very, very important -- Brent loves you very much. That hasn't changed. He's angry and in pain and turmoil, but he still loves you. That much I know for sure."

"Thank you, June. I'm so glad you called. You've helped me a lot. Now ... I just have to wait for Brent. I hope he'll come home soon. I need him. The children need him. I don't think I could go on without him."

"He'll be there soon, Jeanette. He'll call you and then you two can start to put things back together again. Don't get down on yourself, Jeanette. You'll work it out together. I know you will," the older woman encouraged.

As Jeanette hung up the phone, she slumped back in the chair and wondered just what she would tell Brent when he came home. How could she make him understand that it wasn't the real Jeanette on that stage? The real Jeanette would have never considered any such thing. The real Jeanette didn't need to prove anything to anyone about how she looked or how she felt about herself. There was another Jeanette, hiding inside her. The other Jeanette needed to prove something to herself. She needed to know that at her age, she was still desirable and men would still want her. On that stage, she knew that the men in that audience wanted her. She just had to make Brent understand. She walked slowly to the bathroom and took two more Tylenol from the container, washing them down with water.

Chapter 11:

The time had come. He couldn't put it off any longer. In the morning, after the kids were off to school, he would call Jeanette. He would talk to her and likely agree to come home. He wouldn't rush her and he wouldn't get mad. He would just let things happen when he called her. He was certain she wanted him to come home. She must know that it would be a very dispirited and disturbed husband who would return to her. By now, she must have thought about what she would say to explain why she was on that stage on Wednesday.

Tonight would be his second night away from home - away from his wife and children. It wasn't anything like a business road trip. He couldn't sleep, even though he knew he was exhausted. Would he get the answers he needed tomorrow? Would everything become clear then? Not likely, he guessed. The more he thought about it, the more he was certain that this was the turning point in his life - both his business life and his personal life. The strength of their marriage would be tested to its limits now. The guilt and blame and anger and damaged pride would all be out in the open. It truly would be starting all over again.

And what about the children? Andrea was sixteen and more worldly than he thought possible. The internet, television, and movies had made sure of that. Scott was thirteen, immature, and just now beginning to show signs of sexual awareness. He appeared to have discovered girls, his mother revealed recently. What would they make of all this? If they moved, they would have to uproot the kids and that would be hard on both of them. How would they explain what had happened? Were they too young to understand? Not likely. What would they think of their mother when they found out? He shook his head. They wouldn't be very happy with her.

He would sleep fitfully once more. The motel room was noisy from the nearby traffic. People came and went at all hours of the night with doors slamming and cars starting. He lay on his back, going over the possible scenarios of the next stage of his life. He tried to imagine living in another city and working for strangers. It wasn't that difficult, he remembered. Eight years ago he had returned from the East Coast and had found this job. With good people to support him, he could work anywhere. But what about the rest of the family? What about the grandparents? How hard would it be for them to adapt? The unknown and the unknowable. Surges of resentment passed through him from time to time.

At some point he drifted off into a shallow sleep. He was in and out of consciousness over the early morning hours. Finally at six he got up, turned on his laptop and headed for the bathroom. The shower temporarily gave him some clarity. He always was a morning person, but he would need an hour or two of rest sometime later today. He couldn't keep operating on adrenalin. He looked between the curtains and spotted a pancake house across the road from the motel. He dressed, put on his jacket and walked across the road to the restaurant.

He had been sitting on the bed in front of the phone for several minutes. Each time he went to pick up the receiver, he would stop and replace it. What would he say? How would he even begin the conversation? Should he wait for Jeanette to begin? He was tense, and afraid that even the light breakfast he had eaten might not stay down. Finally, as if it were a last resort, he picked the receiver up, pressed nine for an outside line, and then his home phone number.

"Hello?" It was a tired and dispirited Jeanette that answered that morning.

"Jeanette, it's me."

"Brent ... oh god ... I'd given up hoping it would be you. Where are you? Are you OK?" The words spilled out half in excitement and half in fear.

"I'm OK. I'm at a motel in the valley, about an hour away. I guess we need to talk." His voice was level and unemotional, and yet inside, he was in turmoil.

"Yes, Brent, yes ... we do need to talk. Please come home. I need you so much. I need to talk to you. I can't handle being here alone ... without you. Please come home." The desperation was clear now.

"Alright, Jeanette. Are the kids in school?"

"Yes. We can be alone. Is that what you want?"

"Yes. We need to talk. We don't need them to hear this."

A bolt of fear went through her. Was he telling her something? Was this the beginning of the end? "OK, Brent. I'll be here ... waiting for you," she finally managed.

Jeanette rushed around the house, making the beds and cleaning up the kitchen. She wanted Brent to think that everything was normal in the house. She looked at herself in the mirror. Lack of sleep the last two nights had taken its toll on her and she couldn't hide it. She brushed her hair and put on fresh lipstick and a clean t-shirt over her jeans. It was the best she could manage at that stage. She made a fresh pot of coffee just to have something to do, waiting for her husband to arrive. She was trembling and unable to sit still for even a moment. She finally ended up standing in the front window, waiting for his car to appear on their street.

Finally, she saw it turn the corner and then into their driveway. He didn't open the garage door and drive in as he normally would have. Again, that fear returned. Why wasn't he doing what he always did? She watched the car door swing open and Brent step out slowly. He looked as haggard as she did, she thought. She wanted to run to him and take him in her arms, but she dared not ... not yet. She waited as he slowly walked up the front steps and opened the unlocked door.

As he stepped inside, she waited for him to acknowledge her, even to come to her. She stood, rigid in fear ... fear of the unknown. At last, she could take no more and she began to break down. Her arms came up to cross her chest, her hands clenched in bloodless fists, eyes wide in terror and her shoulders shaking as she lost the ability to maintain any semblance of calm.

As Brent watched Jeanette and saw the almost immediate disintegration of her composure, he knew he could not resist his most basic urge to comfort her. He made the three steps to her and wrapped his arms around her and held her as she came undone. He lost track of how long he held her like that, neither of them saying a word. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she began to calm down and regain some her self-control, he loosened his arms and leaned back to look at her tear-stained face.

"Why don't we go and sit on the sofa, Jeanette. We'll be more comfortable there," he said softly.

"I don't want you to stop holding me, Brent. Please, just hold me. I'm so scared," she confessed between sobs.

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. I would never hurt you ... you know that. I just needed to ... I had to have some space to think. I would never leave you like this, Jeanette. I still love you, and somehow we'll figure out how to get through this. Whatever happens, don't think for a moment that I don't love you."

She began to cry again and pressed herself once more into his body. She held him tightly to the point where she was hurting him as she gripped his arms fiercely.

"Oh, Brent. I'm so sorry. I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am. I don't know if I can ever explain this to you. I don't know if I even understand it myself. I'm so screwed up. I'm just glad you're home. You are home ... aren't you? You will stay? Please," she begged.

"My stuff is in the car and I've checked out of the motel. I can't leave you on your own and I can't stand being away from the kids. I guess we're stuck with each other." There was a hint of resignation in his voice.

"Oh, thank god. I don't think I could have stood another night alone, not knowing where you were and what you were doing. I was so worried and frightened."

"What have you told the kids?" he finally asked.

"Nothing. I didn't know what to say. I thought about telling Andrea, but I chickened out. I decided it could wait another day. She just thought you were at business meetings. Scott just wanted to make sure you would be here for his soccer game on Saturday."

"OK, we can leave that problem for now. Let's talk about what happened and what it means to us as a family," still with a quiet, calm voice.

"Yes ... yes ... we need to talk," she agreed.

"I know what I saw, Jeanette, but I don't know why. Tell me."

"I don't know if I can, Brent. I'm not sure what I was thinking about. It was supposed to be a job. I wanted something to do, and I wanted to earn some money for a nice, family vacation for us. I can't type fast enough for an office job, and I didn't want to have a full time job with the kids. When Jo showed me ..."

"Jo?" Brent interrupted. "Your sister Joanne is involved in this?" he asked incredulously, raising his voice.

"Yyyesss ... she showed me the ad in the paper. She said she was going to have a look at what it was about and I should too." Jeanette had that frightened look in her eyes again. Brent had reacted strongly to the mention of her younger sister.

"For Christ's sake, Jeanette. Of all people to be listening to, she's the last one that would steer you in the right direction," he snarled.

Brent had never been fond of Joanne. She was thirty six, twice divorced and had gone through enough men to form a brigade. Her morals, such as they were, were the polar opposite of her sister and it seemed every time they got together, something haywire would happen. She was trouble, and had little regard for who might get hurt in the process, even her sister. This was just another example of it.

"I know you don't like her, Brent, but she was only trying to help. The ad was for 'mature female entertainers, age 35-50 years.' It made us curious and so we answered it. I didn't know it was for exotic dancers until we got there. Then this man, he was telling us how beautiful we were and that we could be the star of the show. I didn't know then what it involved ... I mean, being completely naked. Maybe if I had watched the show, I would have walked away, but he was offering a lot of money for just three hours a day and four days per week. I had to find out what it was about." She was rattling the explanation off as if it was being pushed out of her.

"When did you figure out what was involved?" Brent asked in as calm a voice as he could manage.

"He introduced us to some of the girls and they all seemed pretty regular ... I mean, not hookers or sluts or anything. Some of them had kids too. It made it more ... acceptable, I guess. The girls all said I was perfect for the show. I was the right age and they thought I looked beautiful. It made me feel good to have a bunch of people I didn't know tell me that. I'm nearly forty too. It made me feel good."

"So then what happened?" he demanded.

"Then, they kind of showed me how the routines would go ... you know ... the first dance and then the second. How much would come off in the first and then ... you know ... how to act." Her voice was beginning to fade away as she lost confidence in her story.

"Go on. How did they get you to take all your clothes off in front of an audience of strange men?"

"The girls kept encouraging me. They took me out on stage when no one was in the club and when they turned the lights on, I couldn't see anything besides the stage. I couldn't see anyone in the audience. It made it easier. I couldn't see the eyes looking at me. It gave me the courage to try it. The girls showed me how to move, and at first I was pretty stiff, but after a while it was easier and I felt like I was alone up there. I was on stage. I could hear the whistles and some of the voices, but they didn't seem to be real. It was like being in another world. It ... it was ... exciting. Oh Brent, I can't explain it. It doesn't even make sense to me, but it was exciting."