Cut Off Or Thursdays At Starbucks

ONE THURSDAY

"What the fuck, Nick?" Susan hissed. "Is this some sort of stupid fucking joke?"

She looked absolutely furious. We were sitting in the sun, outside a Starbucks in Dunlap, a couple of towns over, and fortunately the nearby tables were all empty.

I put my hands up in a placating gesture. "Susan, does it look like I'm joking? Is my face signaling 'oh boy, we're sure having fun here'?"

She just stared at me for a minute, gradually growing calmer, and paler. Finally she said, quietly, "how do you know?"

I told her what I knew--or the short version anyway. Then I played her a couple of minutes of the recording.

***** *****

TUESDAY, TWO DAYS EARLIER

You can't know how you'll react. I mean, how could you? If you got a phone call telling you your mom died of a heart attack, would you know what you'd do first? Or if you saw your kid get hit by a car? Jesus, I don't even want to think about it--but would you scream, or kill someone, or stand frozen? How can you know?

I can't say I was stunned, because I wasn't--not in the last couple of minutes before I found them. I pulled onto Appletree Court, planning on making a quick stop to grab a folder I'd left by mistake in my home office. It was just before noon, and I was idly thinking of stopping by the Indian place on Cheviot Road on my way back to work.

I left my car on the street, not bothering with the garage. As I approached the front door I suddenly felt strange--almost like a weird shiver--and instead of just coming right in, I unlocked and opened the door quietly, and stood in the hall for a moment listening. Fuck.

The sounds of sex, from upstairs. It had to be Renee, though she told me she was subbing that day--she's a substitute teacher in New Baltimore, a couple of days a week.

I took my shoes off and walked quietly up the carpeted steps, down the hall, to the edge of the guest bedroom. The door was open and I carefully took a quick peek. Renee was riding the guy, her back to me, making a lot of noise--though no more than she ever made with me.

I didn't shout. I didn't cry, or curse, or run into the room hitting anyone. I stood in the hall, frozen, for maybe a minute.

"Come on, FUCK me, I'm almost there!" Renee's voice, harsher than usual, the way she occasionally sounded with me when she was about to cum. All I could hear from the guy underneath her was grunting.

I just fucking stood there. And then I walked quickly, quietly, down the hall to my office. I got the recorder I use to dictate memos with, turned it on, and carefully concealed it on the top of the hall table next to the guest room. Then I retrieved the file I'd come home for and left the house. They never knew I was there.

I looked in the garage before I left. Renee's car was there, and so was a blue Camry that belonged to Danny and Susan, a couple in the neighborhood who had been part of our friends group when our kids were all in pre-school together.

So Renee had opened the garage door, let him in and closed it again. This wasn't their first time doing this.

*****

I wasn't even angry, that's the crazy thing. Or I should say, I wasn't angry YET. I had my lunch at the Indian restaurant pretty much without tasting it, and then I went back and had a productive afternoon at the office--wrapped up two pre-trial motions and prepared for a big deposition coming up next week. How does that make any fucking sense?

I guess I just shoved it way, way down somewhere--the ultimate act of compartmentalizing. I needed to know more about what was going on, besides the obvious, and I somehow stowed away the rage and the sadness in the basement somewhere, letting it sit until I had time to deal with it.

When I came in the door I could see Vera and Ben on the swings in the backyard, and Renee stuck her head out of the kitchen to smile at me.

"Hi, honey!" She was wearing the kind of outfit she always wore to teach in, an ordinary skirt and blouse, and she had on a colorful apron we got in Mexico.

Almost in a fog, I came in and gave her the usual hug and kiss, nothing more and nothing less, and she did the same. She was cheerful and pleasant. She was almost normal--almost. There was the tiniest bit of tension there, which I never would have noticed if I hadn't been looking closely.

"The kids really wanted tacos tonight--they'll be ready in about ten minutes, if you want to go play with them for a bit first."

Her warmth, the utterly typical affection I could feel coming from her, absolutely numbed me. Though I guess I was numb already. I went and played with the kids, pushing them higher, enjoying their screams; and then we came in and had the most normal family dinner you could possibly have. I cleaned up the kitchen while Renee got the kids in and out of the tub and into their pajamas, and we watched one of their animated movies for a while, and then we tucked them into bed. A typical night at the Randall house, like hundreds of nights before it.

And as I came out of Ben's room I suddenly, absolutely couldn't stand it. I could not imagine spending the evening with Renee, watching TV or talking or, God forbid, in bed together.

"I'm sorry, honey," I said, before she could even speak. "The Connors deposition got moved up to tomorrow and I'm going to need a couple of hours going over it tonight."

"No problem, Nick," she said, and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to finish bingeing that medieval France show. Don't work too late!"

I waited in my office, surfing the Net idly until I was sure she'd be asleep. Do you have any idea how many cute cat videos there are on there? Jesus Christ, some people really have too much time on their hands.

Then I retrieved my recorder, took it back to my office, plugged in my headphones, and listened. To all 46 minutes. Well, three hours actually, but after 46 minutes there was nothing else on the recording.

First there was grunting and groaning, the sounds of sex I'd already had the pleasure of hearing. Then some sighs, and relaxed breathing. The conversation didn't start until a couple of minutes later.

"Jesus, that was nice." Renee's voice, deep and relaxed, the way she is after sex.

"You are so fucking hot, Renee. It just keeps getting better and better. Nick is one lucky son of a bitch."

"Stop it, Danny." I heard a sound that might have been her lightly slapping him. "I don't want to talk about him--do I have to keep saying it?"

"Okay, okay, sorry babe." Another couple of minutes of silence. Then:

"You know what would be great? A real turn-on, actually. How about if we try cutting them off? You know, maybe not completely, but throttle back a bit at home?"

"Wait, what?" Sounds of Renee moving in bed, maybe sitting up.

"Yeah," said Danny. "I think it would be kind of hot. Me knowing that Nick is getting less of you, while I'm picking up the slack. And I would do the same thing with Susan, you know--slow the sex back down to every week or so.

"We wouldn't stop completely, that might make them suspicious. But less for them, and more for us?" He laughed. "That would be hot as fuck!"

"Danny," she said, her voice tight. I could hear the anger. "Listen to me. I love my husband, and I'm not going to deny him sex just to play some stupid little fucking game with you. Just so you can feel even better about yourself, getting something over on him."

She seemed to be out of bed now, walking around, maybe picking up her clothes.

"I already feel guilty enough, knowing how much he loves me. How much he trusts me. Fuck!" She hissed it, loud enough that it startled me, listening there in my office.

"You know, maybe it's time to just call it quits with ... with whatever this is. I love Nick and I don't love you, and this was never going to be anything but a little nasty fun on the side. I think we're finished."

"Babe, babe, hang on." Danny's voice was smooth, calming. The asshole. "Okay, it was a bad idea. Just drop it. Let's just keep on as we are. It's been great, hasn't it?"

"You know what, Danny? No. I'm done. It was hot and it was fun, but we're done. I don't feel good about lying to Nick and lying to Susan; I'm ready to be his faithful wife again, and her friend. Do you want coffee?"

And with that she must have swept out of the room, with him left behind still remonstrating with her. He followed her downstairs, and I heard another 20 minutes or more of discussion in the kitchen, without being able to hear what was said.

Finally there were sounds of doors opening and closing--twice--and then nothing. Silence.

***** *****

THURSDAY

I turned off the recorder and we just sat. Quietly, in the sun.

"That FUCKER." Susan was hissing. "That ASSHOLE, that BASTARD."

She looked at me, quite seriously. "Nick, will you come over and hold him down while I cut his balls off?"

I laughed out loud. Surely the first time I'd laughed in the last three days, or even smiled. Susan and I had always been better friends than Danny and I were; I enjoyed her cheerfulness and her humor, a little sarcastic but playful, not unkind. Danny always struck me as something of an egocentric jerk--even before all this.

"I'm tempted, Susan, but I'm not sure it's the most practical solution."

"Practical, fuck--why does he deserve to continue walking the earth with his testicles attached?" She was crying, but laughing at the same time. She was gutted, just like I'd been since Tuesday, but she was being fierce and funny about it at the same time. I admired her.

"Jesus, Nick, what are we going to do? What are YOU going to do? You've had a couple of days to deal with this shitty thing."

"I have a few ideas," I said. "But first I want to know if it's really over. That would make a difference to me--how much, I don't know."

She nodded. "How are you going to do that, though?"

I said, "I've got a tap on the phone, and recorders in our kitchen and upstairs. They can't meet at your place, so I figure whatever goes on will be at our house."

Susan nodded again. She ran her small textile import business from home, so our adulterous spouses wouldn't go there.

"Let's meet here again in a week. I'm going to pretend I don't know a thing--it won't be easy, but I want to know if the bitch is really calling it off. After that, we can figure out what we want to do, okay?"

She said, slowly, "Yeah, I guess that'll work. I'm going to have a hard time not kicking him in the balls the minute he walks in the door, though." She laughed, a little bitterly, and said, "I'm not sure I'm as good an actor as you are, Nick."

"Just try, if you can. Right now at least we know what's going on, and they don't know we know. Advantage, Nick and Susan."

***** *****

THURSDAY, THE NEXT WEEK

Susan and I hugged, and sat down with our coffees. Her face was drawn, tight, and I supposed I looked pretty much the same.

"They're done," I said right away. No need to make her wait to hear it.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, she called him Friday at work, said that was it, don't bother her again."

She sat back in her chair, digesting that. "And he fought her, I assume?"

I laughed. "Oh yeah. Said it was the most wonderful sex ever, blah blah blah. Kept telling her we'd never know. Apologized again for that 'cutting them off' stuff. But she wasn't having any of it. The conversation only lasted about three minutes.

"And here's the crazy thing." I leaned forward. "She actually confessed to me."

"Wait a minute--really?" She laughed harshly. "That fucking bitch. I guess better late than never, right?"

She thought for a minute. "Danny certainly never breathed a word to me, that asshole. What did she say?"

"It was two nights ago. She'd been strange all weekend--quiet, you know, but also more affectionate than usual. Little touches on the shoulder as she passed me, a quick hug and kiss after I did something like unload the dishwasher.

"And then Tuesday night I came home and she'd made chicken Sorrento--she makes it like twice a year 'cause she knows I love it, it's my favorite thing she cooks. And she bathed the kids early and got them into bed--and then made clear we were headed to the bedroom.

"I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do, you know? I hadn't touched her--well, had sex with her, since...since last Tuesday, when I found out. So it was a week, which is longer than usual for us.

"So we made love--or fucked, I'm not actually sure which. Maybe she did one and I did the other. And after we finished she just clung to me, tight, kissing my neck and saying "love you" over and over. And after a few minutes she just shuddered, and burst into tears, and said "we have to talk."

I paused for a minute, and pulled out my recorder, setting it on the table.

"Here's just a little of it--I told you I had a recorder in the bedroom."

*****

There were sounds of bedclothes shifting, and Renee's weeping.

She said, "Nick, I fucked up. I (gulping), I did the worst thing I could do, the worst thing I could ever do--and you're gonna hate me." She started to cry harder.

"And it's all my fault, and you're gonna throw me the fuck out--and I deserve it!"

More noises of her snuffling, blowing her nose--and then:

"I had a stupid, cheap, fucking affair with Danny Rudenko. We fucked four times. It started about three weeks ago--and it's over now. I told him to leave me the fuck alone."

More silence, more snuffling. "It was cheap and selfish, and I just can't believe I did it. I look at myself in the mirror and ask 'how did I turn into a selfish, dishonest, cheating bitch?'"

Then my voice: "Did you fuck him here? In our bed?"

"Yes," she said, in a strangled voice. "Susan works at home, so we couldn't do it there."

More sobbing, and then the sounds of me getting up, getting dressed, and walking out of the room.

*****

"That's enough to give you the idea. I went back in a couple of hours later, she was still awake, looking miserable, and she told me the rest. How it started, the whole stupid flirtation bullshit--and the part about cutting us off.

"She said that's actually what woke her up, got her head out of her ass. She said she realized what a sleazeball he was, and suddenly she was disgusted with herself. She threw him out--and then spent a week tearing herself to pieces, gearing up for telling me the story."

Susan I sat awhile after that, just sipping our coffee, thinking about things. It felt good actually, sort of comforting. I hoped it felt that way for her too.

Before we got up to leave she asked, "and what now? What are you going to do about her, the fucking cunt?"

I grimaced. "Please don't be mad at me. We're going to see if we can maybe work it out. We have an appointment with a counselor next week."

Susan just raised her eyebrows. I said, "I know. I know, believe me. But you didn't see her, Susan--she is as miserable as a person could be. I don't know if I'll ever be able to trust her; but I think she'd cut her own arm off before she ever did something like this again. We both love the kids, and fuck if I'm willing to be an every-other-weekend dad.

"So we're going to try."

I waited, and then said, "and what about you?"

"This is it--he's done. It's actually not the first time; he had a brief thing with some bitch in his office. There's a secretary there who's a friend of mine, and she let me know about it. I confronted him before he'd screwed her more than a couple of times--and he was so apologetic, you know? Fell all over himself telling me how awful he felt, how sorry he was? Couldn't do enough for me for a few months: a vacation to the Caribbean without the kids, a new car, taking on more of the load at home, you name it.

"I should have fucking thrown him out then, but I was scared, you know? Emma and Alice were only 5 and 3, and being a single mom terrified me. So I let him win me back--I guess. I mean, he never really did; I've never trusted him since then, or fully let down my guard. Always waiting for the other fucking shoe to drop."

"I'm so sorry," I said, and then we sat some more. The sun felt nice.

"Okay then," I said, leaning forward. "If you're sure you're done with that asshole, then I have a couple of ideas. Renee and I talked about them. She wasn't so happy about them, but fuck her, right? She's in no position to bitch."

I filled Susan in on my plans the for the next couple of weeks, and was pleased to see her stiff face relax into a broad smile--almost a smirk.

***** *****

THE NEXT THURSDAY

She couldn't even wait until we sat down--Susan started babbling at me right away.

"Fuck, Nick, but I enjoyed that. Seeing the look on her face, wondering if I was going to haul off and paste her right in the chops."

We got settled in--I'd gotten us a couple of muffins to go with the coffee--and I gestured to her to continue. I knew most of it already, or at least Renee had told me about it from her side, but Susan clearly wanted to share it all.

"She turned up Monday at 10:00, right as planned--and of course she already knew that I'd heard about it from you, so she was spared having to confess. But she still looked like shit--like a 2nd-grader sent to the Principal's office or something.

"She started to say, 'Susan, I--' but I stopped her. I said, 'not a word,' and turned my back and led her into the kitchen. We sat there and I just looked at her for a while. Obviously I didn't offer her coffee or anything, the bitch. She just looked at the floor.

"Finally I said, 'okay, go ahead.'

"She started crying right away, before she even opened her mouth. She said something like, 'Susan I'm so sorry--this is so awful, I was so awful, and I....' And then she just sobbed a while, couldn't say another word, still looking down.

"Finally she got it together a little, looked at me. She said, 'I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, and I don't expect it. But I apologize, from the bottom of my heart. I apologized to Nick and I apologize to you. Danny and I were--no, fuck that. His part is on him. I was selfish and stupid. I stopped thinking about you, and about Nick, and about anything but my own, fucking, adolescent ego. It was the worst thing I have ever done, in my whole goddamn life.'

"It was a lot less coherent than that, Nick, but you get the idea. She managed a few more sentences, more of the same, you know. And then we sat for a while. She went back to staring at the floor."

Susan looked at me, almost challengingly. "And I have to say I enjoyed it, somehow. I'm still pissed as fuck at her, of course--but she was absolutely miserable, and we both knew she deserved every bit of it, and seeing her that way helped--just a little, you know?"

I nodded. "Believe me, Susan, I get it," I said. I'd also enjoyed Renee's misery a bit, over the past days. It didn't make my own fury go away, but it helped.

"So we sat in silence a couple more minutes," Susan continued, "and then I said, 'okay Renee, you can go now.'

"I walked her to the door, and as she was about to leave I said, 'we will never be friends, you know that?' She just nodded, and mumbled something, and I went on, 'but I am going to be friends with Nick. Any kind of friends I want to be.'

"She glanced up at me, a little alarmed, and I just gave her my best nasty smile, and shoved her out the door. And then I went back inside and had a really big piece of that great chocolate layer cake from La Boulangerie."

I laughed. " 'Any kind of friends,' huh? I'm sure that got to her."

Susan and I knew that any sort of revenge fuck was off the table. We didn't feel that way about each other, though I liked her a lot. The prospect of continuing to hang with her, just as friends, actually made me smile.

So then I said, "well, I guess we're ready for the grand finale then, right? Next week, right here? I'm actually amazed you've been able to play the game for so long, Susan--I'm not sure I could have managed it."