Thanks to Jezzaz's O.K. for my conclusion to his original submission entitled, "Words." This submission, like his original, has no hot sex. The reader might re-read or review Jezzaz's thought provoking work about the Mediator, Mike. In it, the wife Kristi and her secret lover, James, plead with Mike, Kristi's husband, to accept an open triangular marriage. Mike rejected her plea, and In his anger, violently threw both his wife and her lover out of his apartment. The action picks up below just outside the cuckolded husband's apartment. All the mistakes are mine in that I do not use an Editor.
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Words: The Sequel
Kristi and James were now outside her and her husband's apartment, and she limped James towards his car. James' first thought was that her husband, Mike, had broken his finger and possibly his nose, and his immediate need was to have medical attention in an emergency, 24-hour clinic, like right now. For the first time, he asked himself, "Is pussy from a scatterbrain's worth an injured finger and a bloody nose - and it could have been our death? He turned toward his previously secret lover and said, "Kristi, you damned sure underestimated your husband's response to your open marriage proposal - sometimes I think you are stupid, Woman. You obviously don't know your husband. You don't know me either, for that matter. Hell, you can't even predict the public's response to a new museum piece you purchase with the allocation of scarce donated funds." James sat down carefully in his car, protecting his injured finger and dabbing at his still bleeding nose.
After Kristi had sat down beside him, she looked at her lover feeling dizzy while a knot formed in her stomach. Her thoughts at that moment were, "James is fighting mad because I guessed wrong about what my husband's reaction to my open marriage proposal would be. Hell, maybe I don't know my husband even after 11 years. For that matter, James, who should have been fully supportive, has questioned my competence as a Curator. If I were more than just a pussy to him, he surely would use only supportive language. Damn, do I even know James, either? Well, to give him credit, he conducts excellent tours for the museum visitors while the other tour guide doesn't make the displays come alive the way his does. But, that doesn't mean my acquisitions are the wrong ones. Damn it, I do know what I am doing there. Or do I? The museum board keeps harping that the annual budget assumes that ticket sales plus museum store profits should cover daily operating expenses. Is it possible that hubris, rather than ability, is my thing - and maybe James, like my husband, will not go to the ends of the earth to gain and keep my love as well. But, whatever the case, I must get past this and go on with my life."
Later Kristi sat in the waiting room of the Emergency Medical Clinic and awaited James to come out of the examination area. The magazines were outdated and were mostly children's publications. Bored, she cursed because she didn't have her iPad and tried to kill time reading her cell phone. The more she read the news stories, the more distraught she became just reading the crap, and, worse, soon her contact lenses started to fog. Then she remembered that she didn't get a chance to pack solvent for her lenses before Mike had abruptly kicked her and James out. She almost lost it when she recalled that Mike had flushed her wonderful wedding rings down the toilet. This moment was her first where she had a pointed, introspective thought: "What have I done?"
In what seemed like hours later, James and a lady in white came out laughing at something humorous that one of them had said. Kristi spotted his plaster cast finger as James came into the waiting room. The two were walking beside each other, when she touched him on his shoulder and said, "Don't forget to call me, James, especially if that finger gives you trouble," and then turned to re-enter the treatment area. James ignored Kristi and walked straight to the cashier with a smile still on his face. Kristi had a moment of panic watching the whole scene and thinking, "That was an example of the 'touching' that Mike referred to, and it is obvious to me that the woman was hitting on my man right in front of me out in public. Damn it!"
Once the two lovers were back in his car, James began rapidly talking about unimportant things. For example, his nervous talk was about things like the Latin names of the small finger bones including the delicate structure of one broken. He complained about the wait time while the doctor mostly ignored him as he worked several exam rooms. James even complimented the staff physician's skill in casting the finger, and how the physician assistant made a neat looking plaster cast for his finger. She had even cracked a joke while busy working on his finger. At this feel-good moment, his interest in replaying what had happened in the Absalom apartment struck him as distasteful, and not worth discussing or thinking about further. He thought, "Damn! Monday morning quarterbacking about her performance in front of her husband is very depressing and left a bad taste in my mouth. I will connect with Sandra, that physician's assistant, as he glanced at the phone number she had indelibly penciled on his plaster cast." Unable to help himself, a large grin broke out on his face at this somber moment. Breaking his exciting thoughts, he became aware the Kristi was talking to him, and then he focused on her words.
"...Intervention didn't work like I thought it would. I am sorry he was violent, but I was so certain Mike would accept my proposal. But, we still have each other. Honey, we will get through this rough spot, and enjoy each other's company 24/7, right, dear James?"
James glanced at her briefly and lied, "Yeah."
The driver navigated the stop-and-go thoroughfare, and for the first time, he spoke of the incident in her apartment. "Kristi, we both were naive to go through with your planned, so-called intervention - especially you, when you thought he loved you so much until he would shrug and go along with your proposal. Why couldn't we have just continued balling on the side? Every fucking body was happy with that arrangement we had except you. You know, I didn't think about this before, but now we will hang out together 24/7 since we are at work together all day, and you will be shacked up with me until you find an apartment. Is that seeing too much of each other? Will we get on each other's nerves? That degree of 'togetherness' does not work for couples. Damn! Damn! Damn! How could we both be that stupid and confront Mike," as he pounded the steering wheel with his good hand?"
Kristi was frightened and quiet for a moment. She finally blasted, "Maybe my husband was not the only one I didn't know as it seems that I didn't know you either. Yes, I thought he would acquiesce and accept a three-some, and I also thought you loved me unconditionally and would just be happy to have me to yourself just in case he didn't agree. You don't support my effort and something is wrong with this picture, James."
Her lover was quiet and thought, "What is she saying? Damn, I even got a hard on back there when the Physician Assistant, Sandra, sporting an ostentatious diamond on her finger, acted as if she wanted my body. Damn, the truth is I have a fucked up mind, and I like fucking married women... But, I must play the game with Kristi for a while and gradually ease her out of my life - she could cause trouble for my career." He looked at his lover with a smile and lied, "Hey! We will get through this, Sweetheart. We both are upset right now. Let's go to my apartment and enjoy the best of a bad situation."
--
Mike Absalom finished his two shots of Peach Vodka and shook himself awake. He canceled their one joint credit card with the intention of using only his corporate card for personal daily use. He made a note in his day planner to inform the Comptroller what and why he was doing this, and then reasoned out loud, "This a 50-50 divorce state so I will just file using the nonsense, 'incompatible.' clause. So, he made another note to ask company counsel to recommend an out-of-work domestic relations attorney. He then called Kristi's parents, he asked, "Is my brother-in-law, John, home on leave by any chance right now." After being told, "John's current assignment is at Fort McCord, just down the highway." Kristi's Mom gave him John's cell phone number. At that point, Mike felt himself cooling down his anger as he started to mediate between the two opinions he held about Kristi.
Mike's internal dialog for the first opinion was "Well, you and Kristi are unsuited for each other, to be sure, but eleven years of adjusting has to count for something. The second was, Yes, you do love her, and there is now a huge void but, she fucks around, and there is no happy ending for that kind of relationship. Biochemistry is such that being in love with a man while fucking someone else can not happen. But, as much as I already miss her, I must breathe 'thanks' to her for coming clean before I was an old man. Enough of this shit: go out and eat some spaghetti to shore up your energy - at least Kristi could have cooked dinner before the Intervention." At that moment, tears gushed from his eyes and his internal struggle made it almost impossible to muster his business-as-usual face and get ready to go out to eat. He washed his face thoroughly with soap and felt measurably better.
Mike Absalom decided on Hooters for dinner since it was close by, his ex certainly would not be there, and the famous big honkers just might start to renew his interest in the female of the species. He had finished dinner and had gone outside to enjoy a cigar and an Amaretto-coffee. The number one reason for sitting on their patio was, however, to get away from the brain numbing music that pounded on the inside. The Mediator had been known to like some of that music but not after his guts had just been ripped out of his body. His cell rang and after identifying the caller as Lieutenant Colonel John Fenton, Mike said, "Greetings John Fenton, my favorite brother-in-law. How ya doing nowadays?"
For five minutes they both swapped minutia about Army life and mediating between principals who hate each other, and then Mike said, "John, Kristi and I are not together anymore. She will be served with a divorce petition probably Tuesday. Her key will no longer fit the lock after tomorrow, but the elderly couple in apartment 245 will have the spare, and they never go anywhere. Would you escort Kristi to get her personal things and help her move them out of the apartment? As for dividing up furniture and similar things, please don't let her go there because the divorce court will address that."
John said, "Damn Mike, this is unbelievable. I won't pry, but the odds are that the wild girl she once was, before your stint with her, surfaced again. You know, I think we have had this conversation in future-tense before, haven't we, Guy?"
He replied, "Well, sort of. At any rate, I am flying Tuesday morning, and she may need clean underwear, etc. - uh, as she left rather abruptly. So I would appreciate it if you did this little task for me, and I will buy dinner the next time we meet for a drink. Will you do that for an old friend?"
"Yeah, Mike. I will plan on a personal business day off and drive up either Tuesday or Wednesday after I work it out with her. Hey, Buddy, I am sorry but what can I say? Just take care of yourself. I will make try to make sure my mixed up sister doesn't do anything illegal."
--
Mike stood in a very long TSA security line, occupied by coach passengers, rolling his overhead bag. Reading his digital day-planner, he was pleased that the 'gaining independence' process had worked smoothly. New locks were on the apartment door, updates had been made to the beneficiary, etc. in Personnel, Kristi would be served with a no-fault divorce petition this afternoon at her museum office, and he felt pretty good, all things considered. In fact, the lawyer said that they would probably never see each other again after his previous 'weekend from hell.' That prediction sometimes horrified him and at other times pleased him. He kept saying to himself, "All you need, Mike, is time." He got the 14-page case outline of the labor-management mediation their company had been hired to manage, and as the principal, he was on his way to sit down with both the union president and the CEO. He had started re-reading the document when unexpectedly he heard Kristi call his name, "Mike Absalom over here!"
