In a way that Ed thought must prove that insanity was contagious, he had actually gone into Day One of his wife's meticulously planned infidelity with a positive attitude. Relatively positive. Okay, he hadn't had a sense of
complete
despair by that point, and that was for one big reason alone.
Their weekend
pre-game
had been, frankly, amazing. Michelle was passionate, caring, attentive, responsive, giving, energetic, adventurous... and Ed felt like he could do nothing more than hold on for dear life for nearly forty-eight hours straight. There was an actual moment when, after having forcibly engaged in a lot of denial, he wondered if her plan might not have some merit. Their sex had never been as good as on that weekend; not even during their honeymoon, he had to admit.
During the whole loony exchange he had with his wife about her
deal
, Ed knew that he hadn't wanted to fuck Katja, that was the honest truth, and he instinctively knew that he wouldn't be, despite Michelle's promises, but if he could endure her affair for a mere four weeks... and could force himself to believe her reassurances that the whole thing was purely academic... the fruits were potentially very, very sweet.
So Monday came and went with him blissfully ignorant of anything about that morning's session at the Novaks'. Hell, Michelle had even seemed reluctant about her plans when he'd said goodbye before leaving, which had sparked an ember of hope in Ed that his wife wasn't completely lost. The whole week too, she was the same, warm, happy partner he had known since forever... then he came home early that first Friday, and reality bitch-slapped him until its hand was blood-red.
It hadn't even been that he heard the love of his life shout that he was a
willow...
it was the shout itself. The shout, the
scream
, and every guttural, animalistic noise that came with it. Zenith weekend or no zenith weekend, he'd never forced sounds like that from Michelle.
After that, he was done. It was done.
They
were done. There was no coming back. He could never be with Michelle again without knowing, despite anything she said, that she would always yearn for something else that he wasn't giving her. The death of trust, the loss of confidence... that would kill any intimacy they could have forever.
It finally got through his delusional skull that the Michelle Lawrence that he'd joined his life to was essentially gone, and the elegy had been screeched out of Dominik Fucking Novak's bedroom window.
Even knowing how desperately he would always love her, Ed began making his peace with the fact that his marriage, his life, was over, and all that was left was to get the paperwork in order. That Friday was busy for him; the realtor, then the park to center himself and gather his resolve... then the research into good divorce attorneys. The activity focused him, and when, that night, Michelle had tried to tempt him into bed, he was able to rebuff her.
When he'd closed the guestroom door on her misery-laden pleas, he realized that the cost of his strength was merely his heart. It was a small price... what use did he have for it anymore anyways?
__________
Another Monday morning.
Ed tossed some bread to the ducks in the pond a few feet from the park bench that was quickly becoming his favorite place in the world.
I hope she's taking good notes. Been years since she's been in school, after all
. His bitter laugh was louder than he meant it to be.
"Did they say something funny? I never knew that American waterfowl were so evolved."
The voice was light and amused. It didn't fit with the way the world really was, and Ed became annoyed, but he stowed the urge to lash out. In the end, he knew it wasn't her fault. Not the biggest part, at least.
"If I remember right, it got leaked a while ago that comedian ducks are part of a secret CIA program to subsidize the grain industry." He turned and tried to force a smile. What he produced was close enough, he guessed. "I mean, how can you
not
keep feeding the little buggers when they've worked so hard on their act?"
Katja Novak barked out a laugh as her brows raised in delight. "Where I grew up, we knew that your CIA was nefarious, but apparently we had no real idea."
Without asking, she took a seat next to Ed on the bench, and when he gave a brief look at her, he wished he hadn't. The sundress she wore--pink and white floral print, with a swooping, cleavage-exposing neck and tight against her toned core and rippling rump--was breathtaking.
She
was breathtaking, and he was absolutely sure that, even if she was in a goddamned potato sack, Katja Novak would draw every eye for a mile.
Just what I need, another beautiful woman to fuck with my head.
"Well, maybe not just your head."
Ed blinked twice before he realized that he'd muttered that last bit aloud and that she wasn't reading his mind, and then blinked again when it registered what Katja was saying. Grimacing, he held up his hands to forestall her when she leaned towards him with a mischievous grin. "Whoa... I... I'm not sure what exactly you came here for..."
"
Followed
you for, Edward." Katja tilted her head coquettishly. "The minute that Misha entered my home this morning, I left it. She may have forgotten, but a deal is a deal, and it's time for your side of it to be filled."
"I never agreed to that." Ed narrowed his eyes, abandoning civility. "She... all three of you... figured that you could make my decision for me. I'll give it to you straight, I never wanted any part of it, and every compromise I made up till now was coerced. Made under duress, even." He stood abruptly, and Katja actually had to catch herself from falling forward, she'd leaned so close. "But now that's done. So, Katja of Slovenia... welcome to America. I hope you, and your piece-of-shit husband, and the clinically insane woman who used to be my wife have a long, happy life in Uncle Sam's welcoming embrace, but I won't be around to see it."
Ed was a yard or so into his dramatic exit when he heard Katja's thick, emotional mutter behind him. "You don't deserve this... and she doesn't deserve you." A pause, then the kicker. "And you're right. Dominik is a complete piece of shit."
Cursing himself for an utter idiot, Ed turned to look at the woman, and she gazed back up at him with red eyes and runny nose.
God fucking dammit.
He ran a palm down his face, sighing.
"Katja... would you like to get some coffee?"
__________
The bistro was a favorite of Ed's--and Michelle, but that didn't bear dwelling on--so the staff greeted him warmly when they arrived, by name even, and Katja grinned at him in delight. "Edward, a charmer wherever you go, it seems."
He grunted, a bit embarrassed when the cute, punky-haired young woman behind the counter started making his usual brew automatically. "I'm a charmer wherever I spend money, at least." Katja just murmured noncommittally at that and followed him to a corner table. Ed, heeding a sudden, unexamined instinct, chose one that was fairly secluded; out of view of the wider dining area.
Once seated, and after his guest and he both got their drinks, Ed levelled a long look at Katja, choosing to dispense with pointless social graces. "All right, what are you thinking? Disparaging Michelle and your husband... I thought you were in on this whole boondoggle?"
"Do you remember my call," Katja glanced away briefly, "
that night
?" Her ruby lips curled a bit into a small, sad smile. "I meant it. I am sorry for what I did. Or, really, what I didn't do. What Misha told you was absolutely true, for what it's worth. I was... very excited at the thought of being with you, but when I saw you and your wife, saw your true feelings for her..." She shook her head. "I realized how fucking horrible we were all being."
"Won't hear me argue." Ed stared daggers at her, but once she began wilting under his gaze, he found that he really didn't want to hurt her.