Fault Lines
H. Jekyll
There is no sex in this story. Not a hint. If you're looking for sex, or payback, or something like that, then keep on walking. The story basically covers an afternoon's uncomfortable conversation/argument between fairly hostile exes who divorced the previous year. Maybe you've experienced something like that. You might try to decide who was at fault. Or who wasn't.
I welcome comments and discussions. I continue my policy of including all comments, including those insulting ones usually posted by "anonymous." If you post a comment under your Literotica account, I will try to respond directly (and I will not insult you).
I'm grateful to BlackRandi1958 for her editing expertise. Whether you like the story or not, she improved it. Think of what it
would
have been like!
*****
Nine months. It's not a year but long enough. Or maybe forever wouldn't be enough. Mary thought Phillip was thinner. Phillip focused on Mary's hair. She had cut it shorter, kind of a bob, and she had some make-up. Even 'some' was a lot for the Mary he'd known, nine months ago, when everything had blown up.
He didn't want to see her, but she looked good.
She wanted to see him and was afraid.
She simply showed up at his door, the door of his little efficiency.
Why is she here? And how did she get my new address?
"Hi." She hardly looked at him.
He didn't invite her in.
"What do you want?" Oh, that was nice, Phillip! But her response went sideways, too.
"Have you gotten it ... never mind." She shook her head. "No. I'm sorry."
She began to turn away.
"You might as well say it. We're not going to grow further apart, and you took this much trouble to find me."
"The women. Have you gotten them out of your system?"
He considered slamming the door in her face.
"So. You tracked me all the way here to get some extra snark in?"
"That's not what I meant. Or, I did but... I don't know. I didn't mean it that way. I didn't. But I do want to know."
There's a trick, which is to answer a question with a question. Turn things toward your inquisitor.
"Are your boyfriends out of your system?"
"Can't you just answer my question?"
"Can't you answer mine?"
There were no 'boyfriends!' It was only him."
"That's it? Just the one?"
Silence. They stood at his doorway on the second floor, the railing behind her and the parking lot below; his hand on the knob, his body blocking the view of a couch and couple of chairs, a kitchenette with a tiny table and a few dishes in the sink, a laptop on a little desk and not much else. Yes, there was. There was a photo of Mary on the wall. Some things don't add up.
Why does he have that?
He asked again. "What about him?"
Silence. Mary's silence told Phillip most of what he wanted to know.
"I'm sorry, Mary. Don't be so surprised. I don't hate you, not all that much." He caught a small laugh before it could completely escape. "Maybe you're easier to take in small doses. Anyway, I thought you could use a little happiness. Don't go looking like that! You don't have to disbelieve me. Even if it was with
him
.
We
certainly didn't have much."
Finally, she answered. "We did at first. But your question. He left. Or I'd have sent him away, so I guess it doesn't matter which way it went." While he considered that, she looked over his shoulder. "Why did you keep my portrait?"
"Target practice. Darts."
He finally let her in. They turned left into the dinette and passed the photo, which had a few pinholes, only one of them on her face. They sat at the dinette table, across from each other, and he poured some lemonade for each of them.
"I'll answer your question. I don't have a harem but there have been women. I'm not celibate and I don't have a wife anymore, so there's that. Is that what you wanted to know? For Christ's sake, why? And why are you even here?"
"I wanted to know... I'm sorry. I really should go."
She started to get up, but he raised his hand like a cop, and he told her: "Stop. Stop, Mary. Stop trying to leave in the middle of a question. Sit down. We can talk, and there's something you want to say. So, say it." And she did.
"I wanted to know... if you'd like to try being a husband again."
*****
Oh, Jesus!
He stared at her. "You wanted to ask me
that?
And you decided the best way to ask it was to attack me? Yeah. That's pretty much the way you did things. The answer is 'no.'
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't know how to ask. I didn't try to be mean, but I guess it's a habit." He waited for more. "And I thought maybe you were having too much fun to settle for me. Like when you broke us up."
It was going nowhere.
"And you wanted to know if the philanderer wanted to move back in with the adulteress. Right? Well..." He shook his head. "Just so you know,
he
was before
them.
I didn't cheat first, you did."
Mary gasped and twisted in her chair and then stood and leaned toward him and yelled: 'You wouldn't fuck
me
anymore, but you started up with that
slut
!" He'd never before heard her use that word. "We didn't have any sex and you were never warm anymore and you couldn't even be bothered to talk!" She took two large breaths. "You weren't ever home. You were out fucking her, and I have the proof!"
It was silent again, except for her panting. It stayed silent for a moment. Phillip stared down into his hands and looked puzzled for a moment before nodding and looking back up at Mary.
"You mean Allison Watts?"