Marriage Divorce Life

There you go, married, divorced acrimoniously and now living together. Who would believe it?

Oh god but it was wonderful coming home to a warm house, freshly cooked food. Shelby had taken to working from home, so living out here didn't hinder her work and she was comfortable working from my big old desk.

Life was good, we shared the housework, we got on better than we had for a long time. Yes, I still got pangs of jealousy and the occasional angry outburst that resulted in a fight, but hey that's married life, right?

The thing I missed was the writing, my book was almost finished and I was so close. But with Shell living there fulltime it was impossible and maybe that's what drove my occasional grumpy outbursts.

Life was good, we got to know each other all over again. There were some good things, Shell and I had shared a good sex life before the split but now it had gone up a notch, a big notch. Without going into too much detail now when she gave me a blowjob it was to completion, for the first time in our married life she let me cum in her mouth. I guess I should have been angry knowing who taught her that but really, I just enjoyed it.

Her love of oral sex had also enlarged to include her own enjoyment. Previously we used oral sex only as a prelude, now however she loved me to eat her muff for hours and she orgasmed time after time. Positions...suddenly we were using positions I had only ever read about. Things were hot and not just the intensity, the frequency as well. We made love every day.

Life was good. So, I was shocked getting home from work one evening to find Shelby standing in the kitchen looking upset, "Hey hon, what's the problem?" I asked not knowing if I wanted to hear the answer.

With her face twisted in a tight angry expression, she lifted up my New Writers award waving it indignantly in my shocked face, "Can you explain why you have this?"

Shit I meant to hide it away, but with the rush I forgot, it had been sitting where I left it tucked in beside the desk. I shrugged, the cat was well and truly out of the bag now, I spluttered rather proudly, "Because it's mine."

She stared at me in total disbelief, "You have got to be kidding? You are trying to tell me; you wrote that book?"

I nodded, "Yep sure did."

She shook her head, her voice laced with scepticism, "No, no, no I don't believe it, how could you write that...?"

"Shelby, I always loved writing, you've seen the award from school. I stopped writing when we met because I was intimidated by you, you are so good and I felt useless when I compared myself to you, So I just stopped. Moving out here living alone it all just came flooding back."

She looked completely bewildered, her eyes full of doubt and disbelief. I watched on as she tried to get words out. "I don't understand, all those years...I don't believe it, this can't be right...How...no I don't believe it."

I smiled as she tried to come to grips with it. She gripped the award tightly lifting it up to read. "I just don't get it. If you could write like that why keep it hidden, all these years?"

"Because I didn't know...Shell when we started going out, I recognised your talent I realised back then how good you were going to be and I felt intimidated. You were way up there and I was way down the bottom. I knew you would laugh at my feeble attempts and the last thing I wanted was for you to think poorly of me. I was trying so hard to impress you I put my thoughts about writing to the back of my mind. I was embarrassed."

She put the award down and fell into my arms and we hugged warmly, "I feel so bad that you felt that way, all those years, god am I that much of a bitch?" She breathed.

"No Shell it was just my awkward insecurities. I knew when we met that I was struggling to climb into your league, you were so much cleverer than me and so beautiful. I was just scared."

As she wiped away a tear she whispered, "My league...for heaven's sake what are you talking about."

"When we met you travelled in pretty fancy circles, your friends were all artists, writers', your friends were all from successful wealthy families, businesspeople and I was just a struggling car salesman. You were right up there hon."

"Oh, bollocks I never cared about social status, I loved you from the moment I met you."

"I didn't know that at the time did I, All I wanted to do was impress you enough to get a date."

A further look of horror spread across her face, "Then it's true, it was me after all? Rebecca was right, that evil woman in that story was me."

I nodded, "Yeah in a way, I guess my anger flowed out and writing it down turned out to be good therapy."

She reached up and kissed me, no longer friendly, it was passionate and her tears wetted both our cheeks.

"Tom I'm confused, why all the pretence, keeping your name a secret, God most writers including me would be proud to call that mine."

"The same reason in a way. You just cast me aside, turned to another man for something I couldn't give you. I felt humiliated and ashamed. I didn't know people would like it; I didn't want to give you another chance to put me down. I could picture you laughing at me. Telling all your friends how terrible it was, and I didn't want to be compared to Paul."

"What's Paul got to do with it?"

"He's the guy you turned to, he's the guy you replaced me with, and he was the one in your bed giving you what I couldn't. I didn't want to be compared to him what with him having a best seller on his hands, that would have been the last straw everybody saying I couldn't even measure up as an author."

"Oh, Tom you poor misguided soul I would never laugh at you. I have never put you down and I would never let Paul do it either."

"Maybe so but it was a chance I wasn't prepared to take."

As we sat down to dinner she asked, so have you written anything else?"

"Yeah, I'm about halfway or maybe two thirds through my second book."

She sucked her fork thoughtfully, "No...really already that far through, I'm impressed."

"Well actually I have three on the go, but that's the most advanced one."

She peered across at me sheepishly, "Could I read it?"

I laughed, "It hasn't been edited, it's only the rough draft."

"I don't care, I just want to read it."

After dinner I opened up the story on my computer and she sat down to read. I finished cleaning up the dishes, watched the late-night news and when I went in to see her, she was still immersed in the book. When she noticed me looking over her shoulder, she peered up at me and fluttered her gorgeous eyes, "A coffee would be nice."

I found some cookies, made her a coffee from the expresso machine, threw on a couple of marshmallows and carried them in.

I sat with her and drank mine while she went back to reading. She was in her own little world and I knew better than to interrupt her when she was like this, so I took the dirty cups out, cleaned up and climbed into bed.

I felt Shelby snuggle in beside me much later and her hot body nestled against me rousing me from my drowsy sleep ridden state, "Tom that book...it's really good." She pulled my head to gaze into my eyes, "Hon I'm not stroking your ego, I mean it's really, really good. She kissed my shoulder, "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" I whispered.

Tears dribbled down onto my exposed flesh exploding like little bombs, "For making you hide this away, oh my god all those years...I am so sorry."

I rolled over and drew her into a proper hug, "There's nothing to be sorry for. That was my choice and I'm not sorry. We had twenty wonderful years of marriage, two wonderful children and so many good memories. That I will happily trade-off for that loss. I never regretted marrying you; it was the best decision of my life. I wouldn't be the person I am today without you."

She hugged me back, "I'm sorry it ended, I'm sorry for my mistake."

I laughed, "Well we can make up for that now can't we."

As we lay together in the darkness she giggled, "God Jen is going to have kittens when I tell her."

"No Shell, no, no, no, I like my anonymity and I want to keep it. I didn't write the book to gain celebrity status. I am happy being me."

"Surely we can tell the kids...it wouldn't be fair to keep it from them."

"No, you tell one person, then they have to keep the secret, that leads to another and so it goes on. Please let's leave sleeping dogs lay."

She gave me a sweet little kiss. "I think you're being silly but it's your call."

For the next few weeks things flowed, we slowly built a level of trust. I came home from work one evening to find Shelby curled up on the sofa with the phone glued to her ear and she laughed and giggled, blowing me a kiss as I walked in. "Who are you talking to?" I asked.

She moved the phone away from her ear smiling, "It's Jen, we're just having a mother daughter chat." She pressed hands free and I called, "Hey Jennifer."

Her jubilant voice reverberated, "Hi dad, I'm so glad you and mum are back together. I love you."

"I love you as well pumpkin." Shelby switched back to private mode and they finished their conversation in private as I showered and changed.

When I came back to the living area Shell looked radiant, "We just made Jen's day."

"I'm glad about that, perhaps a bit early to be telling the world, but I have my fingers crossed."

She gave me a nervous squint, "Are you still not sure about us?"

"I'm as sure as I can be, I do love you Shell, but there is still that shadow hanging over us. I hope it remains that, just a shadow."

That conversation seemed to drive Shelby a little harder and her mission seemed to be to convince me, or maybe herself that we were in a good space, and she tried to encourage me to write, she wanted to watch and join in.

The next day when I got home from work, she already had dinner on the table and ready to go. "What's the rush?"

"I thought you might like an early dinner so that you could do some writing."

I went to help her after dinner with the clean-up but she chased me away. With her insistent pushes I wandered into the bedroom to see if I could get something going. I sat watching the glistening waters and I went over the ideas that had raced around my head over the last few weeks, but having ideas and getting them to make sense is two different things. I ended up tapping away unconvincingly for a while. I was wasting my time and I knew it. I walked out to find Shelby sitting with her laptop on her lap as she reviewed something.

When I sat down beside her, she frowned, "What are you doing here?"

"Sorry it wasn't working for me tonight."

That difficulty grew, unsure why I felt this way I struggled away trying not to make her self-conscious about the fact I was now struggling to write anything. I guess I was nervous to show that side of me to her, to reveal the inner me. A lot of what I wrote was about emotions and physical connections. I didn't want her to connect what I was writing to our current relationship.

A few days later we were in a similar spot, I had been actually writing and it felt good, Shelby had been working in the lounge on her laptop. I had been writing for a couple of hours when I collapsed on the sofa beside her, pushing aside her curled up legs.

She leaned in for a kiss, "What are you working on?" I asked.

She gave me a coy self-conscious guilty look, "I'm helping Paul with his latest book, he scribbled down a bunch of stuff and I'm trying to put it into some kind of workable order."

It was the first time either of us had mentioned his name since we got back together, "Is it any good?"

She shuddered, "it's terrible, unfortunately he hasn't been able to write anything for a long time."

"Why" What's his problem?"

"I'm not sure. After the drama of our separation and divorce he fell into depression, then we moved in together and that was catastrophic, we argued and fought all the time. Since then, he hasn't been able to drag himself out of it." She peeked up at me, her face anxious, "We moved in together so I could help with his book, but it was too hard, we couldn't live together, it just made him worse."

It felt like picking the scab off a healing wound but I couldn't help myself, "Why didn't it work?"

Squeakily she muttered, "We are too different, he is too submissive, and he is so damned intense. We just argued a lot. I do love him but I could never live with him."

Shocked I snapped, "Did you just say you loved him?"

She nodded, "I don't want to dredge up all that stuff again, but yes you heard right although love probably isn't the right word, I do have deep emotional feelings for Paul, it's not like the love that you and I share but there is a chemistry, a deep profound connection."

She gave me a shy stare, "Remember I did say I would like to see him again at some point if you and I can get to the right place."

I leaned back in the sofa, "Don't hold your breath Shell, that day may never come."

She leaned in giving me a kiss, "If that's what happens then so be it. I hold hope that we will find that security in our relationship."

"What do you mean security? it's like you think I'm insecure."

"Weeellllll," She whimpered, "Yes, honestly I think you are. I mean why did you divorce me?"

"Because you cheated on me, shit Shell what did you think it was about?"

"I think it was more about what people would think of you if you accepted it, I think you were more worried about how people perceived you."

I slammed my hand down on the arm of the chair and jumped to my feet, "You didn't think it had anything to do with the fact you were screwing him behind my back. Having sex with another man! You didn't think it was about that."

She snarled back at me, matching my anger with her own, "I'm not an idiot Tom I know it hurt but the instantaneous explosion that became our divorce, the blast that ended our life together I think it was because you couldn't see it for what it was. I think if a person is secure in their love for somebody, they can accept that their partner might be able have feelings for somebody else."

"What if the boot had been on the other foot, what if you found out I was cheating on you with some bimbo?"

She looked thoughtful, "If it happened before Paul, I would have reacted exactly the same way you did. Now it's different now I'm so secure in my love for you that I would accept it because I know you love me."

Chuckling derisively, I snapped, "Good try my love, you almost had me, but I remember you telling me you would gut me and hang the corpse out to rot if you caught me with somebody else."

She pushed aside her laptop, "That was before, if Paul did one thing for me it was, he opened my mind to other things. He is a kinky bugger but he taught me about love as well."

"Bullshit, you are full of shit. I know you Shell, maybe better than you know yourself."

She pouted sulkily, "Maybe you do but I hope you're wrong. What I can say is I hope that I would be OK with it. It's how I want to live my life. I told you once that I wanted an open marriage...well that hasn't changed."

She picked up her laptop and started typing away. "Can I have a look?" I asked.

She looked confused but handed the laptop to me. I had a quick read, now I'm no expert but after fifteen minutes I had enough. I handed it back, "You were right this is shit."

She nodded gloomily, "Yeah sure is."

Over the next couple of weeks, she ramped up her efforts to get his book working, she spent hours working on it, editing and rewriting trying to get something to work.

While she worked tirelessly on his material, I got to spend time on my own book. Sitting at the desk always seemed to make life better. There was something about the space, the view, the harmony in the room. Once I was seated there everything else vanished and I wrote and wrote. It took two weeks but eventually I had a finished product.

The problem was while I was happily working on my book Shelby sank into a bit of a hole; a darkness seemed to overwhelm her. At first, I didn't even notice I was so wrapped up in my own little world. Once I picked up on her mood, I paid more attention to her, that made it worse so I decided to let her try and work it out for herself but as her mood darkened, she became increasingly moody and hard to live with.

When I asked what was wrong, she just replied, "Nothing hon...just a little sad."

Usually, I was able to brighten her day with a hug, a kiss and lovemaking but one day when I got home from work, she was curled up on the bed crying her eyes out. Of course, I raced to her and drew her into a hug lying beside her our arms and legs tangled as I held her as tight as I could, "What's the problem, come on if you don't let me in, I can't help."

We stayed like that for an eternity, her body convulsing shuddering with the depth of her sadness. I asked again, "What is the problem, talk to me, let me help."

She sobbed, "I can't you will hate me."

"Just spit it out, this can't go on."

She kissed me and her eyes locked on mine, "It's Paul...he needs me."

My grip loosened as my brain collated what I heard, "Paul...what do you mean?"

"He is suffering depression, drinking too much and I'm worried he is going to do something silly."

A shiver ran down my spine, "What do you mean silly?"

"I'm afraid he might try to kill himself; he has battled with suicidal thoughts in the past."

"Jesus, perhaps he should be committed or institutionalised until he can get through it."

She gave me a tormented desperate look, "Tom what he really needs is me."

Anger erupted in my gut, a little fire lighter just detonated, "What do you mean by that? Define needs?"

"He needs me to be there for him, to help him, guide him and to offer some understanding. He is different to you Tom. I have tried to explain this to you in the past. Where you are strong and determined, Paul is weak fragile and emotional. He cries, he opens up to me. He allows me inside his head. He told me he has never been able to do that with any other person."

"Sounds like emotional blackmail to me."

"No!" She hissed. "He was being open and honest. I know you can't understand because he is so different to you. I think it's why I was attracted to him."

"You were attracted to a pitiful feeble weakling?"

"Yes, Tom I love you I can't express that enough. I can't live without you. I tried that and it failed. When we were apart, all I thought about was you, every night my dreams were of you. I love you...but you might find this hard to believe, you aren't perfect. You are a closed book, you never share any of your fears, your dreams or fantasises. You refuse to share anything you keep your inner self locked so deep inside."

Sucking in a deep breath I mumbled, "Yeah well that's what being a man is about, I try to carry the load."

"See, that's what I mean. Your writing is so expressive, so emotional it shows the real you. I want to see more of that guy, the sensitive caring tender man."

When the silence crept in, she added, "I was attracted to Paul because he is the polar opposite to you. If I could merge the two of you it would be perfect. He is open, expressive, he never judges, he isn't possessive, where you are the opposite, strong as Kauri, independent, resourceful."

Sucking in a big breath she added, "He is prepared to talk about and tell me his deepest thoughts, fantasy, nothing is off limits with him, but you...you are a closed book, you must have fantasies and sexual desires but in twenty years you have never once opened up to me."

"We talk."

She sniggered, "No we don't Tom, yes I talk... I tell you my fantasies, I tell you what excites me...but you...god it's like you are embarrassed, it's like you are ashamed that I might find out who you are. You have never talked about what excites you. You must have fantasises but you have never once told me about them."