The Itch Ch 4

I waited for my husband Robert to come home. My new lover, Trish, had left earlier that afternoon, and I knew I had to be honest with Robert. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I couldn’t deny my feelings. I thought about the events of the day: meeting Trish just that afternoon, making love with her, and knowing in my heart that she was someone that I could not forget, or leave behind. Knowing it so strongly that I was preparing myself to tell my husband, even if it meant that I would lose him.

I knew that I was the one in the wrong. I mean, when you marry, you should marry for life. I had immediately fallen in love with this amazing young girl, pony-tailed blonde, trim body, and someone who had put her trust in me immediately. I’d never been responsible for someone like that before, and I found it intoxicating. I found Trish, and her body, so intoxicating that I couldn’t think straight when I held her in my arms. And she found me to be the same. She loved my short cut blonde hair, my body so like hers, my age nearly the same as hers, though I was a year older.

I sat in the deepening dusk of the living room, waiting for Robert, knowing that I’d break his heart, and hating every minute of it. He’d done nothing to deserve it. As time passed, I started to become apprehensive. It wasn’t like Robert to be late, or he would at least call. It got to be 1 hour, then 2 hours, finally, he was 3 hours late, when the phone rang. I leaped up to get it, and after I said “Hello?” I heard something so surprising it turned my blood to ice.

“Jesse, it’s Trish, I’ve got some bad news for you. Are you sitting?”

“Trish? No…what is it?” I said, uncertainly.

“Jesse, after I left your house, I went to the station house and started my shift. I’m on traffic duty this week. We were called to an accident site in the Kensington area. It’s your husband, he’s been hurt. Oh, god, Jesse, I’m so sorry to have to tell you this. Your husband’s been in an automobile accident, and he’s in the hospital. Do you have someone who can take you to the hospital? If not, we’ll send a car,” Trish said.

“Ohh, no, no! Please, no! Trish, what’s going on? Tell me, please!” I gasped. Robert hurt! I had to take care of him.

“Jesse, you need to come down here. There’s some confusing things we need to follow up on. Just sit tight, I’ll have a neighborhood patrol officer pick you up. When can you be ready?” Trish asked.

“Uhh, 5 minutes, I think.” I stuttered out.

“Okay, just hang on, the car’ll be right there.” Trish said.

Within 3 minutes, a patrol car pulled to a stop in front of the house, and a uniformed officer came to the door.

“Mrs. Hugo? I’m here to take you to the hospital, ma’am. Would you come with me, please?” He asked, offering his arm. I declined the assistance, but rushed to the car in his wake, and he quickly got me to the hospital, breaking more than a few traffic laws himself, in the process, for which I was grateful.

When I got to the hospital, Trish was waiting for me at the emergency room entrance. I hardly recognized her wearing her khaki uniform.

“Jesse, please come with me, your husband’s over here. He’s not in any danger, but he is badly bruised, and there are a few things we have to ask him,” Trish said.

“Ask him? Well, he was in accident, right? What would you ask him?” I felt confused. Shouldn’t they be interviewing the other driver for hitting him?

“Jesse, it was a one car accident. His car ran off the road, and ran into an overpass support. If he’d been going a little faster, or hadn’t had an air bag, I’m afraid he’d be dead right now. As it is, he has severe contusions and a broken arm,” Trish finished.

“Please, take me to him,” I begged.

“Of course,” Trish said, taking my arm and leading me through a warren of cubicles, exam rooms, and curtained off areas. I saw Robert lying back on an exam table, his arm being attended to. I embraced him on his other side, and he winced.

“Oof, sore there, too, babe,” he said. Looking at him, my heart melted. How could I have been so cruel to him? God, I felt like a bitch! I fussed over him, while Trish asked him some questions.

“Mr. Hugo, do you remember anything about the event just before the accident? Anything you could tell us would help us to understand how this happened,” she said, writing notes in a small leather covered notebook.

“No, no, I can’t remember anything. All I can remember is that I was just driving along. I might have seen something run in front of my car, like a cat or a dog, or something, I vaguely remember something like that, but I’m not sure,” Robert said.

“Mr. Hugo, fortunately several drivers stopped at the time of your accident to help you. None of them could remember seeing anything like that, so I was hopeful you might have a clearer memory. It is normal to blank out the details of an accident, though,” Trish commented. “If you remember anything about the accident, or if there’s anything that we can do to help you in this case, please call us. Here’s my card,” she said, glancing at me.

“Okay, that’s enough. Now it’s our turn,” said a scrubs-clad figure about 12 years old, or so he looked. The doctor shooed away Trish, who left with a concerned glance at me. The doctor explained the nature of Robert’s injuries, and the course of care that would be needed. I stared at Trish’s retreating figure, then turned to Robert.

“Robert, what happened?” I said, quietly.

Robert wouldn’t look directly into my eyes, but muttered, “I really don’t know, like I told the officer.” It wasn’t like Robert. I sensed something different, but perhaps, I thought, it was the accident. I set about making him comfortable, while the nurse took information for Robert to be admitted to the hospital. “Just for observation overnight,” the doctor said. “We’ll do some tests.”

After Robert was admitted, and a few hours after I was supposed to leave, I finally did leave, taking a taxi home. I fretted alone, thinking a ceaseless flood of thoughts. Had I caused the accident? What had I done? What could I do to make up for my selfishness and folly?

I don’t think I slept at all that night, and woke up with red-rimmed, puffy eyes. My worries and fears from the night before, weighing even more heavily, joined by the guilt I felt. I could only try to make up for my sins, and hope that Robert would forgive me.

I drove back to the hospital the next morning, and surprisingly, Robert was up and about, banged up, but game. “I’m more than ready to go, babe,” he insisted. The doctor agreed, but warned Robert to stay home a few days, and to see our family physician after a few more days. I helped Robert out to the car, and drove him home. Robert was unusually silent. Usually a ‘life of the party’ type, he couldn’t have said more than 10 words all the way home.

I didn’t know why he was acting so unusually, but my feeling of guilt filled in the blanks for me. I didn’t know how to bring up the subject, nor how to deal with it, so I didn’t say anything. I took care of him for the next few days, trying to wait on him, but Robert would have none of it. Trish didn’t call, and I found myself torn between relief and disappointment. After three days, Robert’s doctor called, and asked if Robert could come in. I asked him why, and he told me that he wasn’t allowed to tell me, but that I really should come in with him.

That got me really worried. Could they have somehow detected cancer? Was Robert going to be one of those people who goes in for a minor thing, and finds out he’s going to die? I told Robert as quickly as I could, and he looked at me in the funniest way. “I don’t think I’ve got the time, right now, babe. I’ve got to catch up on some work,” he said, without elaboration.

“But the doctor said he needed to talk to both of us,” I said. “It must be important.”

“Yeah, well, whatever,” Robert said. I was stunned at him. Why was he acting like that? I decided that I should go by myself, and made an appointment for the next day. I didn’t tell Robert.

When I got to the doctor’s office the next morning, the doctor had me come right in, without waiting out in the waiting room. That should have told me something right there. “Please, be seated Mrs. Hugo,” he said.

“Mrs. Hugo, Jesse, I’m constrained by my professional ethics, and the Patient’s Bill of Rights Act, from telling you why I wanted to see your husband. But, I’m also required by those same ethics to warn you when you may have been exposed to a contagious reportable illness. Mrs. Hugo, I would urge you to have tests performed right away to determine if you have the HIV virus.” There was only silence after that statement hit me. I was unable to assimilate it at first.

I. Needed. An. HIV. Test.

How could that be? I wasn’t a gay male, I didn’t do drugs, what was he saying? “An HIV test? Why?” I said.

“Mrs. Hugo, you really need to talk to Robert,” he said, “but I would urge you to get tested NOW,” he said. His nurse came in then, and led me to an exam room, where she coolly took a sample of my blood. I walked out in a daze. What else could go wrong? I thought about that chart that shows how many years traumatic events take off your life. After the past few weeks, I guessed I’d better make out my will.

When I returned home, I confronted Robert right away. “Robert, I don’t understand why the doctor wanted to see us both, and have me tested for HIV. Is there something we need to talk about?” Robert looked at me and didn’t say anything. “Please, Robert, talk to me. Please!”

Finally, he spoke. “The accident the other day. I remember everything about it. I remember the concrete pillar looming up in the windshield. I remember trying to stamp on the brakes, out of reflex and hitting the accelerator.”

“I remember steering straight for the pillar.”

“Steering FOR the pillar,” I said. “Robert, why?”

“Why? Because I’d betrayed your trust, your love. Because I’m a pervert and a criminal. Because I have a disease that I’ve no doubt given you. Because I’m evil, and I wanted to die,” Robert said.

“God, Robert, what are you saying? Please, start at the beginning. I need to know what’s going on,” I pleaded.

“Babe, I discovered a year and a half ago, that I’m gay. I didn’t know how to tell you, so I just….didn’t. I met a guy in a club downtown and had sex. I’d been thinking about it for so long, and I finally did it, hoping that I’d hate it. Unfortunately, I loved it. So, it got worse and worse. I wanted more and more men. I didn’t know who they were, I just knew that they had what I wanted.”

“I guess one or more of them gave me HIV. I had a test done 3 months ago, and it confirmed my fears. I guess it had to come out sometime, and I never wanted to put you in danger. That’s why I gave you oral sex, and since I always wore a rubber for birth control, I hoped you’d be okay.”

“I’m sorry, babe.”

“Robert, I’M so sorry. If you were unhappy, you could have told me. I’d never want to hurt you.”

“It didn’t seem like one of those things a husband wants to tell his wife, babe,” he said.

“I still love you, Robert. I want to take care of you.”

“That’s your guilt talking, babe” he said flatly.

“What do you mean?” I said.

“Babe, I know about your girlfriends. And I couldn’t be happier for you,” he said. I was speechless.

“You knew about them?” I said.

“Babe, I know you well enough. After that movie we saw, you know, ‘Resident Evil,‘ you walked around in a complete daze. I followed your activity on the computer, and where you went on the Internet. I’m really sorry for prying, but I had to know. After I saw you were surfing lesbian sites, and then some ‘Woman seeking Woman’ Personals sites, it wasn’t hard to put together. I’m really happy for you. I wouldn’t be someone you’d want to spend the rest of your life with, believe me.”

“Oh, Robert, I don’t know what to say,” I said weakly.

“Let’s see how your tests work out. I knew I didn’t need any more tests. I’ve already started taking treatments. You’re the one who’s been hurt, and I am SO sorry for that. I’m going to move out, and we can work things out with the house payments, and all. Please try to forgive me. I DO love you, just not the way we thought.” Robert packed up a suitcase of things to spend the night away. I asked him to stay, insisting he at least give himself a chance to get better, but he insisted. As he was walking out the door, he turned.

“Oh, babe?”

“Yes, Robert?”

“That blonde cop? She’s a keeper. You’ve got good taste, as usual.”

With that, Robert walked out of my life. Well, for the most part, anyway. We had our life together to unravel, then knit the loose ends back up. My HIV tests, and the STD tests the doctor HADN’T told me about, were all negative. I got used to living without Robert, but it was unexpectedly easier than I thought it would be. Within 2 weeks Robert had a boyfriend, who looked like he was about 18. I got the feeling Robert had known him longer than 2 weeks, though. Within 3 weeks Trish called, and I invited her out for dinner.

She came over, and we drove to a little Italian restaurant in the neighborhood. I kept stealing looks at her as she lounged in the passenger seat, and she’d punctuate our frequent laughter and giggling, with affectionate touching of my arm, or shoulder, or cheek. Once, she briefly touched my exposed thigh, and I felt a thrill course through my leg into my pussy. The lights around us as we drove took on a star-like quality, as my eyes moistened from my happiness, the first I’d felt since Trish last left my house.

When we got to the restaurant, we walked in hand in hand. This time I didn’t care who saw me, or us. What other people thought seemed to be pretty unimportant at this point. The restaurant, ‘Napoli,’ was cozy and romantic. I hoped that Trish would take the hint. She did.

We had a lovely dinner of fettucini with shrimp and Porcini mushrooms, in a white cream sauce, and split a bottle of the white Italian house wine. We split a serving of zuppa ingles, and espresso, and I drank in the light of the candlelight reflecting off Trish’s blue eyes. I felt like I was floating the whole time, and Trish’s beautiful smile filled me with warmth. I could have happily died then, but life would get even better, I found.

Trish and I drove to the park near my home, and walked, holding hands and just looking at each other. Finally, we reached the swing set, and we each sat in a swing, gently swinging back and forth, feet still on the ground. “Jesse, you okay?” Trish whispered.

“Trish, I’ve never, I’ve never been happier, and, and-”. With that I started crying, and Trish quickly came over to me and took me in her strong arms. I buried my face in her shoulder, and her long, fragrant hair and cried as much as I’ve ever cried, at least since my father died. She held me close, and didn’t say anything, just letting me cry it all out. I felt so safe in her arms, and warm, and wanted. I became conscious of every part of her body touching mine, and I immediately thought that this was exactly how we started the last time.

I reluctantly pulled away, and with a crooked little grin she said, “You felt it too.”

“Felt what?” I said.

“Every part of my body, just like I felt every part of yours, like the last time we made love-” she started.

“That is scary, Trish. That’s exactly what I was thinking,” I said.

“I know,” she said quietly. We walked hand in hand back to the house, and when we got to the door, Trish looked in my eyes and said, “I won’t ever be saying goodbye to you.” We walked in to resume our new life.