Valentine's Day Disaster

(I was dissatisfied with the way we left Brian and Lauri in the original story last month. So I checked back with Brian and got this update. This story will make more sense if you've read the original.

To set the scene, Brian, trying to mend his relationship with his wife Lauri after learning that his best friend had a heart attack and died while engaged in sex with her, has just dropped his gardening shovel and left home after Lauri told him she had been with her old college boyfriend days before. His mobile phone rings with a call from his daughter:)

******

"Dad, you have to come home." Jennifer sounded upset.

"That's the second time you've started a call to me that way. Who's dead now?" I asked bitterly.

"Nobody, but there's been a terrible misunderstanding."

"I don't feel like coming home. I feel like being alone."

"Please, Dad, this is important. This has to be cleared up."

"I'm not coming back. I've had enough."

"Then meet me in the morning for breakfast. I can't leave mother now."

"Okay, IHOP on Ridge at 9."

"Thank you, Daddy. I'll see you then."

*****

I wasn't sure where I was going, I only knew it was not home. But the case seemed to be that I was headed for an area where there were several hotels. So I decided that was where I was going. I checked in at one that promised to be clean but basic, and went to my room. After dumping my suitcase on the folding rack I looked around for the mini-bar. I guess this place was more basic than I had expected, because there wasn't one.

I walked back out to the lobby and asked the young lady behind the counter to point me toward a liquor store. "They sell liquor at the CVS on the corner," she replied.

I headed out the door, and looking up the street realized it would be a short walk. I thought walking might loosen up the back and leg muscles that were sore from my spadework, so I hoofed it there, bought a pint of scotch and some pain medicine, and walked back. The walk had not loosened me up, so the booze would have to do it.

One train of thought kept running through my mind. How could she? How could she when we were just beginning to make progress toward some form of reconciliation? Were her college days so exciting and romantic that she couldn't resist going back to those boys? Jenny said there was a misunderstanding. What was there to misunderstand?

I got back to the room and filled one of the plastic cups from the bathroom with scotch. I usually sip good stuff. This wasn't the good stuff, and I sure as hell wasn't sipping. I decided to try to make it better with some ice. As I walked down the corridor to the vending area I passed a young couple hanging all over each other and clearly very much in love. I smiled at them, but I'm afraid there wasn't much warmth in my smile.

I was right, the ice helped, and the second glass was better.

I hadn't intended to trap Lauri with that question. I had no idea Karl was anywhere around our town, or that Lauri had kept track of him. I just thought it was funny that after a couple of years of dating me, my girlfriend had become a nun. There has to be a joke in there someplace.

But a trap it turned out to be, and damned if she didn't walk right into it. And it was after she had been caught out by George's bad heart. How could she? Any possibility of mending things was now completely out of the question. And what could Jennifer have to tell me that was so urgent? You can't glue together a broken heart.

Finally the booze mellowed me a bit. I decided that to continue to dwell on it would just make me hurt more, so I turned on the TV and turned off my brain and lost myself in a silly movie. Sleep came slowly, and when it came, was fitful. I woke up at 6 a.m. (which should be a felony on a Sunday morning). I took a long shower, shaved, and dressed for breakfast. I had noticed the IHOP as I approached the hotel, and figured I'd walk there and get us a place ahead of the Sunday morning brunch crowd.

So that's what I did. I got there about 8:45 and only had to wait a couple of minutes for a table. I was on my second cup of coffee when Jenny came in. She walked straight to my table and sat down. "You screwed up, Dad. You screwed up bad." She poured herself some coffee from the carafe that had been left for us.

"I screwed up? I haven't been sneaking around hooking up with old girlfriends."

"Dad, there was no hookup. Yes, she has known Karl was at the bank. They have chatted a few times when she has been in there doing banking business. She has no feelings for him, or, apparently he for her. They are now just casual friends."

"And you know this how?"

"She told me. Dad, her soul has been rubbed raw by this whole situation. She has no lies in her. She knows that if she lied to either one of us she'd be alone against the world."

"So, what was with that 'happy shopping day' with no purchases you told me about?"

"Dad, you're too suspicious. She was shopping for gifts for you and me to thank us for our kindness after, after, you know, that day. She hid them. She felt happy because she had been out and had found gifts she liked. However, there was one other thing that day that also made her feel better."

"What was that."

"Listen carefully and don't interrupt, Dad. She had lunch with Karl."

"I knew it!"

"I asked you not to interrupt. She felt like she needed to have a better understanding of what you were going through, and how she might be able to make things better between you. She had the idea that talking about it with a man she could trust, but somebody who was not actually connected to the situation in any way, might be helpful. Obviously most of the men she knows are friends or colleagues or people who know what happened and have opinions. Karl was somebody she felt she could confide in who could share a man's perspective without taking sides."

"So she went to her old boyfriend to learn how to win me back?"

"Well, that sounds like a kind of cynical way to describe it, but yes, that's about it. And after the conversation she felt better, as though she had more confidence in what she had already been doing - being friendly and caring without forcing herself on you - waiting for you to be ready, and letting you signal progress toward reconciliation.

"So, Dad, while this is going to sound nuts after what she and George did to you, but about this particular situation, you owe her an apology."

"If all this is true, why did she react the way she did when I asked her about it yesterday?"

"I'm not going to try to answer that for her. If you want an answer to that, you'll have to ask her yourself. And for that you'll have to go home."

I took a couple of minutes to think. Did I really have it in me to walk back into this emotional quicksand?

But if what Lauri had told Jenny was true, I supposed I did owe her some sort of apology for jumping to a conclusion. But why hadn't she just told me at the time in the garden?

"Okay, you win. If you'll give me a ride back to the hotel I'll grab my stuff and come home. Please tell your mother I'm calm and ready to have a talk. You might also tell her that I'm a little hung over so she may have to speak softly and slowly."

She drove me back to the hotel, I packed, and headed for home. All the while I was wondering how we could go forward together if she couldn't be honest with me and I was too suspicious to trust her out of my sight.

When we arrived she was back out in her garden - her healing place - planting more flowers. She must have abandoned the project the day before when I walked out on her. I went straight upstairs and changed into work clothes, then went out and grabbed the spade and went back to preparing the beds for her planting. Neither of us spoke for an awkward minute or two.

"Jenny says I owe you an apology," I finally said, turning earth with the shovel.

"No, you don't. I was so stunned by your question that I let you believe what you wanted to believe, instead of telling you what was true. I should have explained right away, but I felt like a deer in the headlights, because I knew how it would sound if I told you I had been to see Karl."

"So, Jenny says you went to see him to get a dispassionate opinion from a man who was not involved in our mess."

"That's right, and he was very encouraging and very helpful. I felt such a sense of relief after talking to him that when I came home Jenny saw me looking happy. That and finding some gifts."

We both continued to work while we talked.

"You know, our relationship is pretty fucked up right now," I said, sadly. "I'm having trouble trusting you and you're having trouble communicating with me. Not healthy. Not healthy at all. And no foundation on which to build a new relationship."

"Does that mean you want to build a new relationship? And not just dump the slut and move on?"

"Frankly, I'm not sure right now. You are the only woman I have ever loved, and for all these years I have assumed and expected that you would be my loving partner for the rest of my life. After believing something for 25 years, it's hard to just turn my back on that.

"On the other hand, you and George hurt me deeply. Twice. If I had walked away after the first time, I would have spared myself my present misery. Of course I would have missed out on many years of happy companionship and love. As far as I can tell, and obviously I have to rely on your version of events, you and George did not get together out of any disrespect or disparagement of me."

"That is true, I swear."

"And yet the loyalty you both felt for me was insufficient to prevent you from repeatedly disregarding your vows and promises, and betraying my trust."

We both continued to work in silence, I turned earth with my spade and she followed and planted to create beauty and new life. I waited to hear how she would respond, and she considered my words and worked out an answer. If she had been guilty of poor communication in the past, she needed to get this right.

"Brian, I know that our actions have hurt you. And I know what we did was wrong. And I understand on an intellectual level that you feel betrayal. But after the first couple of times, when George really had to work on me to go along and 'give him relief' and I felt sneaky and guilty, it really stopped having any connection to you. It didn't feel like cheating, it was just something we did, like going shopping or watching TV. You didn't know about it, you were unaffected by it, and it seemed like there was no harm. But I'm not going to insult your intelligence by saying 'it was just sex.'

"George and I clearly had a relationship that was separate from and different than the relationship each of us had with you. And the greater part of that relationship had nothing to do with sex. We were very good friends. We enjoyed each other's company. We valued each other's opinion. We cared about each other's happiness. But this did not diminish my love for you, or his friendship with you. We didn't take from you, we gave to each other."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong. You did take from me. Even if I accept what you've just told me as being something more thoughtful and meaningful than a rationalization, you took from me my confidence that you will always tell me the truth. And you ripped away from me the fond memory of a life-long friendship. Did Jenny tell you that I drive past the cemetery every morning and stop long enough to piss on George's grave?"

"Oh my god, Brian, no!"

"Oh yes, and God has nothing to do with it. The fraternal love I felt for that man is gone forever. And I hate to say it, but if something terrible were to happen and you were to die while I'm still feeling this way, I might save some for your grave too."

Lauri gasped. She dropped her trowel, tore off her gloves, leaned over the side of the flower bed and vomited. She wiped her mouth and chin on her sleeve, looked at me, her loving husband, with an expression of shock and horror, and ran to the house. I heard her slam doors inside, then silence.

I looked at the back of the house, considering whether I should run after her or give her some alone time. Evidently she had not recognized the depth of my anger. Perhaps in my effort to maintain self control, I had been too cool. Looking back down at the flower bed I realized I had only a couple more feet to go and I'd be finished. It took only a few minutes to complete the task. I cleaned the shovel and put it and my gloves away in the shed. I pulled out the garden hose and washed down the vomit, then trudged to the house. I grabbed a beer from the fridge, then headed back down the stairs to my hideaway. I hated to drag Jenny back into this marital mess, but figured it would be best to leave Lauri alone until Jenny returned. Call me a coward. Or maybe I just wanted to avoid hurting Lauri more with my words.

But, frankly, all the introspection, choosing words, controlling my emotions, and trying to understand Lauri, had me exhausted. I sucked on my beer. I closed my eyes and leaned back in the recliner and tried to "just be." I realized I was shaking. I realized I was crying. I realized that I was more angry than I had been since this whole thing began. It was decision time. I had to resolve what my path forward would be, or I would self destruct. The Clash rang in my ears - "Should I stay or should I go?"

I heard Jennifer come in. Since I had resumed speaking to Lauri, Jenny's role as intermediary had ended. Turns out that was a temporary reprieve. I heard her go up the stairs, and about six minutes later she came flying down into my sanctuary with blood in her eye.

"What did you say to Mom?" she demanded. "She's rolled up in a ball on her bed crying. She moans your name, and says 'Why? Why?'"

"We both said a lot of things."

"She says you want her to die so you can pee on her grave."

"Now that is certainly not what I said. I told her that I go by the cemetery every morning to piss on George's grave, and that if something terrible were to happen and she were to die when I am still feeling the anger and hurt that I'm feeling now, I might save some for her. But I do not expect her to die any time soon, and I assume that with the passage of time the rawness of my feelings will ebb. So no, I do not actually expect to go pissing on her grave."

"That was pretty mean, Daddy. She is so fragile right now."

"Yes she is. And so am I, Kid, don't fool yourself. I can just hear myself pouring my heart out to a bartender. 'My first girlfriend quit me and became a nun and my wife fucked her lover to death on our silver wedding anniversary. Top that!'"

"What are you going to do, Dad? You two can't go on like this."

"I guess I'll suggest we try counseling, and see if that helps us to move on. If that doesn't help I'm going to have to walk away. Neither of us deserve the pain we're in now."

"If you leave her she won't be able to take it, Dad."

"I don't want to sound selfish, Jenny, but at some point I am going to have to start looking out for myself. I didn't create this mess - far from it. And if only one of us can get out of this somewhat intact, my survival instinct says it should be me. I would like for us to reconnect somehow, and move forward. And I am willing, no, eager, to do whatever it takes to explore whether that is possible. But if that proves impossible, my feeling right now is that I have to look out for number one."

"I understand. I don't like it, but I understand. Now I have to go back upstairs and try to talk Mom down off the ledge. Please, Dad - when you feel the urge to say something hurtful, bite your tongue. At least until we're able to stanch the emotional bleeding."

As Jenny started up the basement stairs we heard a knock on the back door. She went up and discovered that neighbor Carol had come to check in and see if she could be helpful. Jenny sent her down the stairs to see me, then headed up to the bedroom to Lauri.

"How are you, Brian?" Carol asked as she reached the bottom of the stairs. As far as I could remember she had never been down in the rec room before.

"Not good. We're trying to work through it and reconcile, but it's tough going. We don't seem to be able to talk without upsetting one another."

"I remember what it's like," she replied. "I went through a painful divorce 13 years ago. The wounds have healed, but there's still a lot of scar tissue."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I never knew if you were divorced or single or widowed or what. You seem to be pretty self-sufficient."

"Yes, I do okay. Between income from work and alimony from Richard I have enough to live decently. Thank goodness I have my health. But it is lonely, I have to say. We sort of divided up our friends at the time of the divorce, and over time they've drifted away since I'm now a singleton. I am friendly with folks at work, but that's about it."

"Carol's performance at George's funeral has pretty much scared our friends away. I mean, what can they say? I am fortunate to have received a significant promotion - I was coming home to tell her about it that day - so work has kept me occupied through the days. Nights are tough. And this weekend has been a disaster. What happened in your marriage, if it's not rude of me to ask?"

"Not at all. We both cheated on each other. It turns out we never should have married in the first place - it wasn't a good match and neither of us was satisfied, so we found love elsewhere. It was ugly. Accusations, arguments, orders of protection - we did and said horrible things to each other. It's a good thing there were no children in the mix.

"I came over as a neighbor to see if there is anything I can do to help either of you. But I also came over as a woman. I have observed you and your family, and I think you are someone I'd like to know better. I haven't been with a man since the divorce. If you should become available, I'd like to take a chance."

I was taken aback, but just for a moment. "That's very flattering," I said. "And I'm sorry to hear about the painful divorce. That's what we're trying so hard to avoid. Even if we wind up apart, I would like for us to be friends, anyway."

Then I thought for a minute. And thought for a minute longer. "You know, Lauri started sleeping with George because she felt sorry for him having gone so long without sex when his wife was ill. It was sort of a consoling fuck. At least that's how she explained it to me. How about if we go next door and I console you ..."

"Brian, I would love to do it. Right now I would love to "do it" with anybody." She chuckled at her joke. "But I don't think it's a good idea. It might destroy any chance you two have of patching things up. And I don't want to be responsible in any way for that happening. I'm willing to take left-overs, but I don't want to spill the stew."

"I thank you for that, and I understand what you are saying. And I certainly won't force the issue. But. Up to now I think most of Lauri's grief has really been about feeling sorry for herself - guilt for cheating on me, survivor's guilt for what happened to George, shame in front of her friends. But I don't really think she has comprehended my pain. She knows I'm hurting and angry, but I don't think she really feels it. She's too busy feeling her own pain.

"So, friend Carol, what I propose is to give her a dose of the real medicine so she can see how I feel deep down inside. It's risky. It might just, as you say, mean the end. Or maybe it will prepare her mind for the counseling I have proposed. If she walks in knowing how I feel - how it really feels to be the one cheated on - maybe it will make the counseling more constructive.

"So, let's go upstairs and talk to Lauri. You know, for me the biggest gamble is not losing Lauri, I may already have done that. The big gamble is that Jennifer might not forgive me. And I could not bear to lose Jennifer. So I have a Plan B. Let's go up."