Vows

VOWS?

Frank White watched his fiancée walk down the aisle, accompanied by her father. Her name was Patricia Christmas, and her father was Dan. Pat was beautiful in her flowing dress. She was a feminist, and so their new surname was to be White-Christmas. That was the reason for the Bing Crosby song playing as she walked toward him.

She arrived on the raised platform, and stood facing Frank. She smiled at him. The minister began the ceremony. He was the presiding minister of the church that they both attended, Valley Methodist - Joseph Barker.

Franks best friend, Blake Pearson, was standing behind him. Patricia's BFF, Sally McCoy was there for her.

The time came for the groom and bride to read their vows, which they had written themselves. Frank had worked hard on his.

He said, "My beloved, I promise you that I will love and cherish you, no matter what comes in the future, and I will be with you and support you, be interested in all that you do, talk to you, and, until death separates us, I will be faithful to you, forsaking all others."

She looked down for a moment, and began to speak, "My dear, I promise to love you, support you, be your best friend, and try my best to make you happy and content. You will be my only true love, and I will be your rock, in case of trouble. I make these promises or all our days in this life."

Frank looked at her. She was staring at him, smiling. The two were holding hands, facing one another. Frank dropped her hands and stepped back. He was frowning.

He spoke softly, "Do you promise to forsake all others? You didn't say that."

Her eyes shifted, just for a second, toward Blake. Then she gave the slightest shake of her head. She looked very worried.

Frank saw the glance at Blake, and the negative response to his question about fidelity. He was twenty-four years old. All his life he had never shrunk from doing what he believed he should do.

He said, "Dealbreaker."

He turned to walk off the podium. Blake stepped into his way. The two were about the same size, and Blake was a renowned athlete. But Frank had the element of surprise, and he blasted a right hand to Blake's jaw. Blake dropped like a rock, and fell back off the podium. Frank jumped off, kicked him in the balls, and then he heard Patricia scream and some shouts from the crowd.

Frank was satisfied with Blake's condition - for the moment. He walked back down the aisle, and no one made any move to stop him. The service was outdoors. Frank walked into the rear door of the venue, and out the front to his car.

His father, Bill, caught him as he was getting into the car. Bill got into the front passenger seat.

Frank turned to him and said, "Dad, please get out."

Bill said, "What happened? What happened?"

Frank realized that no one but the minister, and the four of them on the dais had heard or seen enough to understand the situation.

He said, "She wouldn't promise sexual fidelity. And she looked at Blake when she shook her head. She's been fucking him. So, no marriage."

"Oh. Oh! Are you sure?"

"Yep."

"Well, I'll explain to your mom and the others. Are you going to your place?"

Frank and Patricia had been cohabiting in a house he owned. But she still had a small apartment near the church.

Frank said, "Yes. I intend to evict her. You know, toss all her stuff. And, I still have the ring. I need the engagement ring, though."

Bill said, "Her parents spent all that money. A shame."

"Not all that much, you know. It wasn't a fancy wedding. Or non-wedding. Anyway, it's her fault, and they raised her."

Frank drove home. He began the task of moving all Patricia's things out of the house. He had plastic bags - leaf bags - for the job. Clothes, cosmetics, shoes, some books, and a few pans were what she had at his place. She had been there, more and more, since a month after they met a year ago. Stuff piled up.

Frank's family arrived in two cars. Bill and Emily, Frank's mother, came in their car. Frank's sister, Joan and her husband, Wick, arrived with their three year old, Sassy (Short for Sarsaparilla).

Frank's mom came inside and said, "Frank, wait. We need to talk about this."

Frank gave her a look. She had always liked Patricia. He replied, "No need, Mom. She's been screwing Brent. She wouldn't make a vow of fidelity. That's all she wrote."

Joan said, "How could you know that, Frank?"

Frank explained. Both Joan and Emily demurred. Emily said, "I don't believe it. You should have seen her when you left. She was devastated."

Frank said, "Good." A nice, flat tone to that.

Joan said, "There must be some mistake. Your mistake."

Frank said, "Call and ask her yourself. You all heard her vows. I promised to forsake all others. She wouldn't. And she couldn't help it - she looked over at Blake. He's lucky to be alive."

Bill said, "If he is alive. He was still out when I left."

Joan pulled out her phone. She tapped the icon for Patricia. And, unbelievably, Patricia answered.

Joan put it on speaker. Patricia said, "Joan?"

"Yes. Patricia, I want to know....you know, why you wouldn't make a vow of fidelity. Does it have to do with Blake?"

"Joan, I.....Jesus. I love Frank. I can't believe this has happened."

Emily butted in, "Patricia, can you answer the question?"

There was a long pause. Patricia said, "Blake and I have....compatibility. In one respect. I don't love him."

Emily said, "So, maybe you should have discussed this with my son, before you lured him into a cuckold marriage." Her tone had turned very hard, now. No sympathy.

There was sobbing from Patricia. No words. Joan screamed, "Fucking bitch!" She disconnected.

Frank said, "I could use some help getting this stuff outside." He got it.

The next day was spent trying to resell the honeymoon trip, to St. Thomas. It did sell, at about half price. Frank kept busy with a project he had been working on before the wedding week. He was a financial advisor, working for a local broker, but attached to a national brand. Frank had done quite well in the two years since he graduated college. He already had the house, from his grandmother's estate. But he had redone almost all of it. He had been able to afford an expensive ring, and a nice honeymoon. Now he would have to resell the ring.

When he thought about it all, after his folks left for their place the next day, he counted himself lucky that he had noticed Patricia's lapse, and acted on it immediately. If he had gone through with the ceremony, he'd have been married. Then what?

He also realized that Patricia and Blake had undoubtedly been intimate while Patricia was living at the house.

Another thing he wondered about was whether the police had been called about his assault upon Blake. So far, they hadn't shown up.

Frank suddenly lost energy, late in the evening of that second day. He sank into a depression. His world had capsized like a canoe in a hurricane. One minute he had been about to make a deep commitment to a woman that he loved. The next moment, all of it went away, leaving anger, then pain. He had been so in love with Patricia. He couldn't fathom how she could have crossed hm like that. He believed that she was sexually satisfied when they were together. He knew she hadn't faked her reactions. Well, he thought he knew that. Now all of that was undermined. Whatever he had thought was his life - before the wedding - was now....not there. Like some movie fairy tale.

He had work, and his family.

It was late on that evening when his doorbell rang. It was Sally McCoy. Frank opened the door, and asked, "What?"

Sally said, "I came to talk. I have a letter from Patricia, but I don't know what it says."

Frank had always liked Sally, who was cute in a girl-next-door way. She had brown hair and brown eyes, as did he. He had always liked her smile, and quips. But now he wanted to know, "Did you know they were fucking?"

"I knew she was....ambivalent. I didn't know all of it, though." Sally didn't look at him.

"Explain, please."

Sally sat down on a settee in the living room. Frank sat in an armchair across from her. She said, "You know that Patricia and Blake were a thing in high school, and sometimes even in college."

"I've been told that. I was also told that it was over, when he got married to Elaine."

"It was. It was supposed to be, at least. I'm not sure."

"Apart from Pat, who was supposed to be my....wife, he's become real close to me. I thought."

"He's still in the hospital."

"No sympathy. What he did.....he's not my friend. Never was, I guess. Just like Patricia was never wife material. I feel like such a fool. What's this letter?"

"She gave it to me to give to you. Like I said. I don't know what's in it."

Frank took it from her and put it aside. He looked at Sally. He had always had the impression that a good, direct stare at someone would loosen up that person's insecurities.

Sally said, "Patricia was devastated, but she said it was her own fault. She thought that she could....have it both ways."

"You mean, she thought she could keep fooling me."

"Yes."

"Then she should have lied in the vows. I'm sure many people do lie."

"Blake lied, I guess."

"What about Elaine? Have you heard from her. She was at the wedding."

"She went to the hospital in the ambulance. But she looked grim. She wasn't crying."

"Sally, what happened here? I think you know."

"Read the letter, Frank. Then maybe we can talk."

Frank opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of college ruled paper. He read it to himself.

'Frank,

I'm so very sorry for my deception. I loved you from the first, and still do. But Blake and I have something sexual that I couldn't get away from. I don't think he's some world class lover. Just, he and I mesh in bed. We always have. Out of bed, we don't really like each other much. I would never marry him. But when I'm around him, he can have me, and I can have him. I thought I wouldn't lie in my vows. I thought that if we had a married life, Blake and I could taper off, and you and I could have a family and a good life. If we had kids, maybe I could stop. I was delusional, I guess. I've hurt you, the man I love the most. I'm so sorry. Someday, maybe you can forgive me. Love, Pat

Frank looked at Sally. He handed her the letter, and she read it. She started to cry.

Frank said, "You knew, Sally."

Sally was still crying. She said, "I thought....I thought it might work. The two of you are so right together. I thought it could work."

"So, it was okay to....put one over on poor Frank."

"No. No, it wasn't. I apologize, too."

"Can't see how you could do it. All three of you. Me and Elaine were just....things to be manipulated."

"No. Frank, it was a stupid play, but Pat and I....we thought it could work."

"Blake?"

"He wanted the sex. He said it was the best thing in his life. He didn't seem to feel guilty."

"Maybe he'll die."

"Shit, Frank, that's not....it's not like you to say that."

"You have a misimpression about me. If he were here now, I'd do my best to kill him."

"I'm sorry for my part in it. Which was just to keep quiet. I'm sorry."

Sally got up and walked to the door. She turned, looked at Frank and said, "Goodbye." Then she went out the door. She was sobbing throughout the drive home.

Frank sat staring at the door for a very long time. There was really nothing in his mind. He was a mental blank. But his emotions were dropping into a dark place. He got up and went to bed.

The next morning, Frank woke early and went for a long run, before work. When he got to work, people had heard about the non-wedding. He got some pats on the back and words of encouragement. Linda Montgomery, a nice-looking secretary, gave him a hug, and whispered, "I'd be happy to help you out. Whatever."

He smiled at her. "We'll see, Linda. Thanks."

Frank took some time after work to consider what he wanted in the future. He decided to work hard and make some money, but not to socialize. He was in a trough. He had always wanted to marry and raise a family. That was his ambition. But, this last thing had made him question whether that was actually a possibility. If Patricia was a deceitful slut, what about any other woman he might meet? How could he ever tell? He wondered how many wives actually remained faithful. There must be a few, but he could see no way to tell who they were.

What's more, Blake had been his good friend. If Blake could double cross him for some pussy, what about any other buddies? Could anyone be trusted to act with honor? He thought that he had no way to tell that. Once again, there must be a few, but, until crunch time, there was no way to tell. Maybe in this case you could tell if you'd been through some stuff with someone.

He kept to his plan to work and not socialize much. He did hook up with Linda, from time to time. Also with Jean Maddox, an old friend from school. Both were fine bed companions, and also nice dates. Neither was looking for permanence. Only some sex and a good time. Perfect for Frank.

Frank buried himself in his work, and had occasional trysts with the two women. The women knew about each other, and neither cared much - so they said.

Frank did not reply to Patricia's letter. He had no communication with Sally. He made an effort to avoid Blake. That meant he avoided certain bars, and his gym. He joined another gym, where he wouldn't see Blake. He heard, through mutual friends, that Blake had made a recovery from his injuries. Frank never heard from the cops about it. He assumed that Blake didn't make a report. Maybe guilt.

Six months passed in this way. One evening, Frank and Linda went out to a local restaurant. As the hostess was seating them, Frank looked over and saw Blake and a strange woman at a table across the room. He stopped Linda and the hostess. He said, "I'm afraid we have to leave. There's someone here that I won't be able to ignore. I apologize."

He took Linda's arm, and guided her outside, where he explained that Blake was there. They went to Red Lobster. When they were seated there, Linda asked, "Are you still so raw about it that you can't be in the same room with him?"

"Yes. He's a low life cheater. If I stayed, we'd have fought."

She said, "Damn. But...I guess I understand. I'll have the shrimp scampi."

They had a nice meal.

The next day as Frank was leaving work, Blake was leaning on Frank's truck. When he saw Blake, Frank stopped dead in his tracks.

He said, "If you don't leave. I'll do my best to kill you. Maybe you'll kill me, and maybe not."

Blake held up his hands in a placating gesture. He said, "I came to apologize. I'm sorry I....I'm sorry. She and I...should have known better."

Frank looked at him for a split second. He was about ten yards away.

He charged.

Blake turned and ran, but Frank had speed already and caught him a short distance from the truck. He tackled him from behind, and they rolled over each other. Frank ended up on top and started pummeling Blake, hitting him in the ribs, kidneys, and arms. Blake tried to roll away, but failed. He went limp, and curled up in a fetal position, covering his head. Frank stopped his furious assault. He got up and looked at Blake.

He said, "Apology not accepted. Never will be, either, you asshole. In all the world, there are two people I hate the most, and you're one." He turned and went to his truck. Blake was getting up as Frank drove away. Blake was lucky that Frank didn't have the true killer instinct, because the truck was a lethal weapon. Frank did consider it, if only for a second.

That evening, Frank thought about the incident. He hoped that he'd never see Blake again. But he also faulted himself. He felt that he needed to rid himself of the hate - somehow. He could feel it in his gut. It was there, and it would kill him. Hate for Blake, but even more, hate for Patricia.

That night Frank went over to his folk's house after dinner. His mom opened the door, surprised to see him.

Frank said, "I need to talk to you guys."

Emily called Bill from the back, and they sat around the kitchen table, where several other problems had been discussed years before.

Frank said, "I saw Blake today. He was waiting after work to apologize. I ran at him and punched him up. I hate him so much. And I hate her way more. But I need to get past that, or I'll eat myself up inside. How?"

Bill said, "I have no idea."

Emily said, softly, "Maybe you should talk to Patricia, or maybe counselling."

"I never want to see her again, mom."

"But, if you don't, how will you get past the hate?"

Frank said, "It's a puzzle. But I know I don't want to talk to her."

Emily said, "She called here twice. Once two weeks after and last month."

"What was it about, mom?"

"The first one, she tried to explain. I hung up. Last month, she asked about how you were doing. I told her you were.....well, not doing great."

"Thanks a lot."

"It's the truth. And neither is she. She's holed up in her little apartment. Never goes out."

"How do you even know this, mom?"

Bill said, "We talk to her folks. We like them. They tell us some news."

Frank said, "Sure, Dad. She's a nun now?"

"Her folks said that she told Blake to take a hike. He's getting divorced, you know. Elaine wouldn't let him back into the house when he got out of the hospital."

Frank said, "Well, I saw him out at a restaurant with some woman."

"But not Patricia."

"Right. So what? Dad, she's a stone cheater. Let her suffer."

Emily said, "As far as you, I can get a name for someone for you to see. Wait here." She went to the other room. Ten minutes later she came back with a name. Naomi Brown.

She said, "Call this woman ASAP."

Frank nodded. The next morning as soon as he got to work, he called the number.

A woman answered, "Naomi here."

Frank said, "I called for an appointment."

Naomi asked, "Who are you, and what's the problem?"

Frank explained.

Naomi said, "Tomorrow at ten." Not a question.

Frank said, "Okay. Where?" He got an address.

It turned out to be a bowling alley off I395. Frank was about to leave when he saw that, but he was curious. So, he parked and went inside. It was early and there were only four people there. Three were guys. So, by process of elimination he went to a pleasant looking young woman who was sitting at a table eating an egg sandwich. She was wearing shorts and a tightish T-shirt

He said, "Naomi?"

She looked up and smiled. "You came inside. Good. You must be desperate."

She was pretty, and young. Maybe thirty at most, but probably not. Her hair was perfect. Dark brown, done in a short bob.

Frank asked, "What....I mean, are you a therapist?"

She smiled again. A great smile. "Yeah, kinda." The guy at the next table chuckled.

She finished her sandwich, got up and said, "Follow me." She walked away toward the side rooms. She looked great walking away. Frank followed. What did he have to lose? And, he admitted to himself, he would have followed her no matter what.

Naomi opened the door to one of the side rooms. She ushered him inside. It had a card table and some chairs, a couch, and a small bar. The shades were drawn, and she turned on a light.

She gestured to the couch. "Sit."

He hesitated. She pointed. He sat. She had something, for sure.

She said, "I need you to answer some questions. No lies. Lies only hurt you. And....I'll know if you lie. But sometimes a person doesn't know the answer, but gives one anyway, that they believe is correct. You have to try to avoid that. Understood?"

"Yes. I understand." He did, too. He started to have some respect for Naomi - as a therapist, that is.

She asked him to describe his problem, briefly. He did.

She said, "So, you feel as if your hate for these two is excessive?"