Eyes brimming with tears, Diane left Jack's house without a word.
Jack put on a pair of underpants, climbed back into bed, and slept another three hours. But it wasn't a restful sleep. Erotic images of Diane kept intruding, along with tactile sensations and bits of conversation that felt real. Was it imagined or remembered?
Waking up became tortuous. His head pounded like a drum with every heartbeat. But he had work to do. There were a lot of farm chores to catch up on after taking last summer off. Besides, staying busy kept his mind from unpleasant Diane thoughts.
His balls itched, so he scratched them. His nose itched, so he scratched it next. When he inhaled, he noticed his fingers smelled odd, but familiar. It was a smell that made his heart beat faster, an agreeable odor that triggered primal attentiveness and a temptation to lick them. So he sniffed again, deeper. Pussy! A smell no heterosexual male ever forgets.
"What the hell?"
Jack stood up, pulled down his briefs, and checked for more evidence of female bodily fluid. Crusty pubic hair and the drifting sexual aroma left no doubt he'd had intimate contact with a woman recently.
"So... it wasn't a dream. Diane did rub against me."
At first, he didn't feel mad or repulsed. Instead, he felt pleased that she still wanted to try after knowing about his dysfunctional dick. But then he remembered. Diane committed adultery with her husband's best friend, and then lied about it. He couldn't be with someone that would do that.
Disgusted by his arousal, he mumbled, "I hope I peed on her."
Jack began his morning ritual - a hot shower, shave, and medication. Organized to a fault, Jack reached for the pill bottle on the right side where he always kept the cholesterol medicine. When he opened the bottle and shook a pill onto his palm, he noticed it wasn't the statin.
'Cialis', the bottle label read. He stared at it confused, wondering how this mix up could happen after a year of repeated conformity, and then came to a swift conclusion. "Diane must've gone through my medicine cabinet."
Looking up at his perturbed reflection, Jack noticed the bi-fold closet door behind him was ajar. He turned around and opened it to see if anything had changed. Sure enough, the toilet tissue bundle was reversed. She'd searched through the closet, as well. Behind the bundle, Jack found the vacuum pump box was now on its side. He opened it up. The previously sealed package of tension rings was no longer virginal.
"So, she goes through my stuff. Messes with this thing, and then comes to bed and rides me?" First he was angry. Then he remembered her kindness. "I called her N. G., no good, but she still helped me to bed." Jack felt conflicted, both a little hopeful and a little violated.
After coffee and an omelet, Jack's throbbing head calmed to a niggling ache. He walked across the street and knocked on Diane's back door.
She opened the door and just stared at him with red, puffy eyes.
Jack cleared his throat, and said, "Thank you for helping me last night. I apologize for being rude and unappreciative." He paused for a response, but she didn't give him the satisfaction. He continued, "I was wondering if you'd give me a ride to get my truck this morning."
In answer she turned and walked away, saying, "Come in. I want to show you something."
Apprehensively, he entered and followed her to the kitchen table. They sat across from each other.
"How's the hangover?" she said, opening the first of two photo albums lying in front of her.
"I'll live. I feel better after eating. I'm too old for nights like that."
Diane found the page she was looking for, and spun the album around. "I'm sorry I lied about Lou being my brother-in-law." She tapped on a photograph, and said, "I didn't lie about having a twin. That's my sister, Anne. My parents thought it would be funny if the second born twin's name had the prefix of di - two. So that's how I was named Diane."
Jack looked at the picture of the identical twins. There was no doubt it was Diane, but which one he couldn't tell.
"I lied because I didn't want to have to explain my relationship with Lou and his wife, Sharon. Most people wouldn't understand. I didn't know you saw me through the window, so I thought it was a harmless lie. Then I panicked and came up with my sister's husband story. I'm sorry. The cover-up is always worse than the lie. You'd think I would've learned that lesson from stupid politicians."
Jack nodded, while looking at the photos. "I see." Then he looked up, and said, "So tell me the truth about Lou and Sharon."
"Oh, god. Now comes the hard part." Diane closed that photo album and opened the other. She paged through a while, before spinning it around and pointing at each face. "This is Sharon. This is Lou. This is Larry and me."
The two couples were sitting on one couch smiling at the camera. Diane appeared maybe ten years younger.
"I won't go into details," she said, turning the page and pointing again. "Let's just say we were very close."
Jack looked at the new picture. It was the same group on the couch, but the couples had swapped partners and were kissing. Larry, Diane's husband, had his hand under Sharon's skirt.
"I should get rid of this album, before my daughter or grandchildren find it. But it reminds me of the good times we shared." Diane reached for a tissue and blew her nose. "A year after Larry died, I sold our house. I was lonely. I was a mess. Sharon and Lou took me in. We all slept in one bed. Weird, huh?"
Jack looked at Diane, and said, "It's different. I get why you'd try to hide it. Does Sharon know that Lou stopped here?"
Diane picked up her cellphone, and tapped and swiped for a while. She stopped and gave it to Jack to read. "Sharon sent this email the day before Lou arrived."
Jack read, 'Hi Di! Lou is attending a convention near you. I told him to stop and show you some love. I know you're lonely. I'm very busy and can't visit until July. I miss you, Sweetie." The message was followed by X's and O's.
It was an email with a long string of sends and responses. Jack scrolled down and picked out key phrases in Diane's messages. "Jack doesn't seem interested." "I like him." "I'm frustrated." "I'm horny."
Sharon responded with phrases, "He'll come around." "Give him time. You're irresistible." "Is he blind?" "Is he an imbecile?" "Maybe he's gay."
Jack handed back the phone, and asked, "Have you told her about my surgery, and-"
"No," she said emphatically. "That's too personal. I wouldn't share that information with anyone without asking your permission."
Jack folded his hands, and said, "Thanks."
She reached over, laid her hands over his, smiled warmly, and asked, "Are we friends again?"
"Well that depends, Nature Girl, are you going to give me a ride to my truck or not?"
Her smile broadened, and a tear ran down her cheek. "I will, in an hour. I have to pull myself together first."
"Let's make it noon, and I'll buy you lunch for your trouble."
"Okay, Jack," she said, softly rubbing his hands, "but it's no trouble at all."
The morning passed with a quiet momentum. Jack readied fifty balsam firs for planting by moving their containers from the greenhouse to the field on a flatbed hay wagon. He unhooked the tractor, drove home, and washed up. Then walked over to Diane's at noon and met her as she walked out of the house.
