Just Once... but You Never Ased

So the enticing invitation from Kalimaxos to finish the story "Just Once... If You Don't Mind?" was just enough to get me off my chair and contribute an ending. Obviously, you should read that story first to understand the context.

I hope I've managed to avoid an over the top ending while still providing an outcome that hasn't been presented yet. Maybe not exactly realistic but perhaps plausible after that third drink. Many thanks to Kalimaxos for the opportunity.

This may be one of those times that "Honey, we need to talk." is the lesser evil.

***

When I finish reading it, I noticed Leslie was at the kitchen island filling her glass again.

"Are you OK?" she asked.

"I will be," I replied.

She nodded and came back with the bottle and her filled glass. Sitting next to me this time, she refilled my glass and turned to look at me with those doe-like eyes.

"So, Rick? What do we do?"

***

I gently put the glass on the table and pushed it away from me.

"

WE

don't do anything, " I replied, a bit more forcefully than I intended. "

YOU

walk across the yard and go home. I don't mean to be rude but this is a hell of a thing to have dropped on me out nowhere and I need time to process..."

Leslie looked more sad than angry. "OK. I just want you to know that we thought that Marcy had talked this over with you. We weren't trying to --"

I cut her off. "I appreciate that, but right now I need for you to leave. I mean it. GO. HOME."

I must have looked serious because she flushed a bit but Leslie turned and left, leaving her glass of wine untouched.

As the door closed I exhaled so loudly I startled myself.

Damn that bitch

, I thought. I know that being a military wife wasn't easy, but since when did she start making decisions without me? She fucking offered me up like a Christmas pudding to assuage her guilt.

Half a beat later I realized that the only pronoun Leslie had used was "we." "

We

thought that Marcy had talked this over with you," she had said. Despite their extramarital activities they were still a team. I used to be on a team. Used to be.

I poured both glasses of wine down the sink. My mood definitely called for bourbon. By the second glass of Buffalo Trace I had come to a conclusion: I should talk to Tom and Maggie.

We had been friends in school, but we drifted apart after graduation. Part of the reason for that was they had an open relationship. At the ripe old age of twenty one that weirded me out. A decade later, however, my viewpoint had matured. While having multiple partners wasn't my thing it obviously worked for my friends, who had been together even longer than Marcy and I. I had reconnected with them a few times but we saw each other every other year, if that. I realized they might be able to give me some insight I lacked.

I didn't even have a current phone number, so I e-mailed both of them a short message:

"I know it's been awhile but I'd really like to talk to you. It's kind of important. Here's my cell number."

I was pleasantly surprised when my phone rang about twenty minutes later. "This is Rick," I answered.

"Rick! It's Tom and Maggie. You're on speaker. What's wrong?" Maggie's voice was as soft and sexy as ever. I could clearly picture her face and big blue eyes surrounded by wreath of brunette hair.

"Hi, guys. I didn't expect a call so soon. I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm trying to work through something and I thought you might be the ones to ask."

Tom's baritone came through loud and deep, "What is it? We'd be happy to help if we can." He was always unflappable. He fit the gentle giant stereotype and was always a calming influence back in the day.

I tried to tell them about my situation without getting upset. I talked about us being separated when I was deployed. About Marcy going into work early during that time. And about Iraq and Diedre. And I finally told them about my current situation and the phone calls to Marcy's hotel.

"You know we can't tell you what to do, right?" Tom asked.

"I know," I replied. "And I'm not asking that. I just want to know how you, both of you, deal with it. The only way I'll be able to take Marcy back is if I somehow make peace with this."

"Ok, now we already have a semantic problem," Maggie replied. "The phrase 'take her back' means she's not yours right now. In all of the years I've been with Tom, and all of the men I've had sex with, I have always been his and he knows that, right?"

"Right," Tom answered. "Sorry, Rick, but the best time for this conversation was about three or four weeks ago. Mags and I talked for months about opening our relationship after we first brought it up. And we still talk about it. A lot. It takes constant communication and reassurance."

"Right," Maggie agreed. "Even if you were on board with the concept, your wife shouldn't spring this on you. It sounds like she never gave you the option of saying no."

"Yes," I conceded. "On the other hand, I didn't give her an option when I was in Iraq."

"Was that the time when you elaborately planned for several weeks to have regular monkey sex with Diedre over the course of your entire tour and then got your friends to help you out? 'Cause I think I missed that part." Maggie wasn't being subtle. "In philosophy class we called that a category error. While both instances are infidelity, one was a deliberate choice far from the heat of the moment. That's a bit different from an adrenaline fueled mistake."

While I tried to absorb that distinction Maggie continued, "You said you and Diedre stopped when there was an air raid. That shock gave you a chance to reassess and you didn't pick up where you left off. I could be wrong but it didn't sound like you thought your phone call shocked Marcy and caused her to reassess. It sounded like she was determined to go right back to Dr. Asshole no matter what."

I realized she was right. It wasn't just the other man; after all, I had had my suspicions before. It was the idea that she had planned this so thoroughly. It wasn't desperation or need. My opinion and feelings didn't matter. And the cherry on top was my neighbors knew about my wife's plans weeks before I did. I took a deep breath.

"I have to admit, Maggie, I didn't expect you to be so hard on Marcy. I thought you'd find it easier to see her side."

Tom chuckled, "You hit a sore spot, buddy. Even with our lifestyle it's possible to cheat. Most couples go in too quickly, with one spouse dragging or pushing the other along. Maggie especially hates when someone tries to use us to manipulate their spouse."

"I am not a fuckin' cookie to be given as a hubby treat so wifey can screw the neighbor," Maggie added forcefully. "It sounds like Marcy was lying to the Neilsons too. I hate that shit. "

It took most of the weekend to find my resolve but I eventually decided I couldn't put up with the manipulation and disrespect. In her letter Marcy wrote, "I can't see us being married and not doing this." Wasn't that basically an ultimatum? She had changed the parameters of our marriage unilaterally, without giving me a chance to agree, let alone comment. And the way she had added, "What I do with him after you divorce me..." so casually still sent a cold finger down my spine. If she could admit we weren't a couple anymore then I had better get with the program.

I decided I wouldn't be calling Marcy again while she was out of the country. I could make unilateral decisions as well as she could. In fact, I was in a better position to. When I was deployed it was routine to give my wife a power of attorney so she could handle our finances without needing my signature. Similarly, I had Marcy's POA. Technically, I could really screw her over: sell the house, close our accounts, or redirect her retirement plan all while she was boinking Dr. Dreamy. On the other hand I would still have to live with myself and face our kids. Marcy may have been ok with killing our two-decade marriage by letter but I couldn't end things that way.

What I did do is get a head start on the divorce paperwork. My friend Brian was a retired Navy JAG officer. (I tried not to hold that against him.) He recommended a young woman in his firm to handle it. He said she was perfect for this type of thing.

"Let me guess," I replied, "She hates cheaters with a passion and won't go swimming 'cause she scares the sharks."

"Worse than that," Brian said, smiling. "She's fair. Passionate people make errors in judgment. You have enough passion to spare; she's dispassionate. Now if you want to turn up the flamethrower to 'crispy critter' she'll make it happen. You want to reconcile with a post-nup she'll walk you through it. Most of all, she'll keep you from doing something stupid like selling the house while Marcy's gone."

I must have looked guilty because Brian laughed at me. "Hey, it's ok. I know you were in long enough that you probably have her POA for an overseas trip this long. I'd be disappointed if it hadn't occurred to you by now. But Marcy gave you a gift: you have like five weeks to really consider things carefully, take your time, and then execute a plan. Use that to your advantage, Secret Squirrel."

Priya, the junior partner that practiced family law, was beautiful and efficient. While we talked over the disclosure forms she had me fill out, a detached part of my brain noticed how she watched me when I answered questions. She would have been very good at interrogation, which I guess is part of what a lawyer does anyway.

Like Brian, Priya cautioned me about exercising Marcy's POA unless absolutely necessary. "I know it's tempting to 'burn the bitch,'" (she made air quotes, which made me think that must be a divorce lawyer cliche), "but while you would be safe from criminal charges any decent lawyer could make that a real tort. Things will be hard enough without that. However, you can safely use it to split up any investments in both of your names, like these mutual funds. I'll give you a financial checklist of things to do that's especially written for career military."

Priya then looked thoughtful for a moment. "Now normally she'd be entitled to half of your pension, as the court would see her choices as supporting your career." When I started to object she stopped me, "Let's be honest, she did do things that allowed you to advance your career. But then again, you reciprocated. You passed on general staff to be at home. You supported her when she went back to school full time. Surgical nursing is a lucrative specialty. You said she also has a trauma cert and ER experience. So not only is she likely making more than you right now but her 401k is probably growing faster than your TSP. And you haven't been out of the Army long enough for your 401k to be worth much."

I had to admit what we ended up proposing in the settlement was pretty fair. I'd offer an up-front payment for her to waive rights to my pension and me waiving rights to her 401k. She could buy me out of half the house or we could sell it. We'd share the cost of Kyle's remaining years in college. We'd stick with the plan of keeping Rhonda's college fund going so she could go back to school after the Navy, or maybe put a down payment on a house if she let Uncle Sugar pay for college.

I'd been talking to Tom and Maggie about every other day. I definitely owed them big time for being so supportive. I did have other friends but I felt a little humiliated by my situation so it was easier to keep it just between us three for now. They could look past the salacious aspect and help me ask myself the right questions.

On Wednesday's call Maggie asked me, "You haven't mentioned it, but have you talked to your neighbors yet? I mean the O'Neils?"

"The Neilsons," I corrected. "And no. In fact I've ignored a couple of their attempts to talk when I've been out in the yard. I don't really feel a need to maintain a friendship with them. Why should I?"

"Well," Maggie began, "you said they're young. I know Tom and I made plenty of mistakes when we first opened our relationship. There's a possibility that Marcy used them as much as she used you. I think you should talk to them. Either you'll all bitch about Marcy and bond over hating her or you'll learn enough to cut them off with a clear conscience."

Godammit, I hated it but she was right. So, early the next evening I sucked it up and knocked on their door. Vince answered.

"Hi, Rick," he hesitated a little bit. "Would you like to come in?" He stepped aside and swept his arm in welcome.

"Yeah. This is still kind of weird for me but I was wondering of the three of us could talk?" Then I added, maybe a bit too pointedly, "Just talk."

Vince smiled. "No problem, Rick." He took the proffered bottle of wine. It was a bottle of Argentine Malbec. Jenny Harshly had told me that was Leslie's favorite.

Vince called Leslie and after he poured us all a glass of wine we settled in on their patio. I didn't miss the fact that Leslie was holding onto Vince's hand like it was a habit. I finally broke the awkward silence.

"So I guess Leslie told you that I hadn't expected this. I mean, I noticed a few things when we talked the last couple of weeks but I didn't have anything to connect it to. Marcy never even brought up the idea of being with other people to me before she left."

Leslie looked quickly at Vince and when he nodded she focused on me and leaned toward me a bit. "We both want to apologize for that. Marcy had led us to believe that you would be ok with everything. The only part that was supposed to be the surprise was the timing. She told us you both had planned on sharing after she got back from South America."

"Well that's just not true." I waved my hand to forestall any protest. "I think I suspected that from your reaction last weekend. But you did sound like you started the conversation with her, not the other way around."

"I did. I admit that. But I did tell her she should make sure you were ok with it," she shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't mean to be a conscience swap."

"You said that the last time we were together," I pointed out. "Why didn't you press that point with Marcy?"

They both looked uncomfortable. Vince answered, "We're sorry, Rick. We talked about it and thought Leslie might be misreading things. And Marcy did present this as a surprise - a pleasant surprise. We didn't want to spoil it."

I looked at both of them in turn and then I sighed. "I do have friends who... have an agreement. Marcy doesn't even know about that aspect of their marriage. But I've been talking to them a lot this week to get their perspective. They're probably the only reason I've stopped giving you the cold shoulder."

Leslie broke the silence, "So what does that mean?"

"It means that I'm past the sex part. My friends have been together more than 25 years and they're as happy as anyone I know. Their kids are happy and healthy and they'd die for each other, I'm sure of it. But what sticks with me is that they did it together, like a team." They both nodded. Then I added, "Marcy didn't consult me on this. Is it weird that that hurts more than the sex?"

"Absolutely not," Vince assured me. He glanced at Leslie with a look of pure love. "I mean, it took us awhile to navigate, but we soon realized we had to talk a lot of things through. More than once."

We continued talking well past dark. Although I told them they didn't need to, they shared with me how they started with this. Unlike Maggie and Tom, their arrangement was a bit one-sided. Leslie took lovers but Vince only had sex with his wife. Maggie was right: talking about Marcy's deceptions allowed us to connect better than I'd ever hoped and I could at least consider them somewhat friends. But I also told them that I'd likely never sleep with Leslie. We had gotten off to such a bad start and it was just fraught with too much deception. They both assured me that was ok. They were more concerned with my relationship with Marcy. I'm glad someone was.

The next hurdle was telling the kids. I talked to Kyle first, as he was easier to get a hold of. His first reaction was to deny what I was telling him. I finally texted him a scan of his mother's letter and that gave him real pause. I assured him that his school was paid for and that while his mother had betrayed me she had never been anything but a good mother to him.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"It means that she's still your mom, and she's gonna need some support after she and I divorce. I'm asking you to be there for her without judging her. She'll get enough of that from other people," I said.

Rhonda was a different story. Since she was at sea it took time before I could arrange a call. In some ways she took it better than Kyle. She didn't find it unbelievable. I guess seeing other service members have marital problems had matured her in that way. On the other hand she seemed that much less forgiving towards Marcy.

Her flow of invective proved my daughter could handily use the Official Navy Word of Emphasis in every form possible: "That fuckin' bitch! How the fuck does that fucker hold out for twenty-four fucking years as a goddam Army wife and then leave the reservation when you are right the fuck there every fuckin' day?! It's un-fucking-believable!"

Like her brother, I asked her to treat Marcy only on the basis of how good a mother she had been to her.

"I'll do it for you, dad. But I can't promise not to have a very heated conversation with her the next time we talk." After a pause she said, "At least now I know my choosing the Navy isn't the biggest disappointment of your life."

I had to laugh at that. My baby girl was a hell of a sailor and that was her way of reminding me we had a special bond that a divorce couldn't break.

The rest was anticlimactic. I was there when Marcy came back and checked into her hotel room at he Airport Ambassador. Once she saw me in the lobby, Marcy ran straight to me smiling and closed me in a bear hug.

"I knew you would be here!" she said. "Don't worry. Now that I've got that out of my system I'm gonna be there for you forever. We can start by you coming upstairs and screwing my brains out."

"Too late for that," I said. "If you had any brains left you would have handled this very differently." Despite her look of worry I barreled on. "That nice lady has the divorce papers," I pointed to a young blonde process server patiently waiting off to the side. "I tried to be fair. I already moved out of the house. I'm in town for the rest of the week but then I'll be in upstate New York visiting friends. For some reason I felt the need to get away from things."

"But we can get past this, Rick, I know we can. I even forgave you about Diedre!"

"Well, it would have helped if we had talked more about that. You should have realized that she wasn't the most reliable source about what happened. I know I've made mistakes but I never shut you out of any major decisions. But I'm willing to give each of us a pass." Her expression brightened at that. God, I'm such a bastard.

I continued, "We each get to make one life-altering decision without consulting the other. Yours was fucking Dr. Asshole. Mine is filing for divorce." Her face fell. I leaned in an gave her a peck on the cheek. "I believe betraying someone with a kiss is traditional."

The server came over and handed her an envelope, "Marcy Weston? You have been served." As I walked out the door I could hear the same voice again, "Penelope Washington? You have been served." "Roger Condon? You have been served...." Priya told me we had gotten a group rate.

Epilogue

It was inevitable we'd see each other at the wedding. Rhonda had finished her tour and had found herself a nice engineer. I liked him. While it was far from the first time I'd seen Marcy since the divorce it would be the first time after I'd remarried. I met Becky while I was visiting Tom and Maggie in upstate New York, which was now an annual trip. I knew through the kids that Marcy was on her third husband. Rhonda joked that if she kept her punch card the next marriage would be free.