I'm not a good person and actually a pretty bad husband but what I am good at is getting what I want and what I wanted was my wife's friend Kristen.
Kristen was beautiful, two generations removed from Lebanon she had long hair the color of obsidian. I would've told you black or been more artsy and said raven but the truth is it had a perpetual shine that reminded me of the glass stone that seemed to absorb light and reflect it back. Large dark eyes sat on top a small arrogant nose, and as wonderful as her eyes and hair were it was her smile that truly turned heads. Her smile was genuine and innocent and I never could keep a thought in my head when I saw it.
Kristen and my wife had been friends since college and I'd met her after my wife and I started dating, in fact Sara used to drag me to football games to watch Kristen and the rest of the dance team. Maybe it takes me a long time to notice things or maybe I was too wrapped up in chasing my wife but at the time Kristen didn't seem like anything special. Things were still new for Sara and me so I only had eyes for her. Things were wild between us when we were dating and we got married right out of school. However, after being married for 9 years the fire we used to have is barely a spark.
It wasn't until my daughter and I showed up early to dance class one day that I started seeing Kristen differently. Kristen was an accountant for one of the large chemical companies in New Orleans and she taught ballet at Performance Dance. She wasn't my daughter's teacher but she taught the class before hers and she was working on a routine when we came in. The little studio has a viewing room just inside with a one way mirror so parents can watch without being a distraction to the kids. Charlie and I sat down in the little room and she started putting on her shoes.
I don't know the difference between dances and couldn't tell you what the hell jazz dance is, but the music playing was definitely not ballet and neither was the dance. Kristen was alone in the studio moving almost seductively. The dance was sexual, and Kristen moved like a python hypnotizing her prey. Her hair was pulled up in a tight bun, she was barefoot, and her navy blue leotard accented every small hip movement. Dancing had given her amazing legs and a butt that seemed more fitting on a sculpture than on a mother of two. Broken from my trance when another parent walked in towing a very unhappy child I found that I couldn't stand up because somewhere in the dance I had started to become aroused.
Kristen walked out still breathing from the strain of her routine and Charlie ran up to her to give her a hug. Finally able to stand I rose and gave her a sideways hug and peck on the cheek.
"Charlie, are you excited about the Nutcracker coming up?" Kristen asked, kneeling down so she could be face to face with Charlie.
Charlie's face lit up at the question. "Yeah, I'm gonna be a lamb" She said.
"I know, Mrs. Debbie told me. You're gonna have so much fun." Kristen told her sharing her excitement.
My kids responded well to Kristen; her questions were always pointed because she could relate to their interests, and her excitement for them was real.
Rising from her conversation with Charlie, Kristen asked me if I was going to watch the live production of Grease that night on TV. She loved musicals and Grease had been her favorite ever since I knew her.
"Of course not. I think there's a TV show about gardening with manure I want to catch." I said sarcastically.
"You're a butt." She told me and punched me in the arm.
Kristen got excited about stupid shows like that all the time. I've never met a musical I cared for and was happy I didn't live in her house where I'd be forced to watch them all the time.
Once home Charlie ran to my wife to tell her that she saw Mrs. Kristen at dance class.
"Oh yeah." My wife asked "And was she teaching her class?"
"No ma'am, she was practicing by herself. Mama, Mrs. Kristen is really pretty. I want to dance like her one day." Charlie didn't wait for a response she'd dropped her book sack and was running upstairs to play with her dolls.
Sara never really reacted to my coming and going, the most I ever got was a hello, when I came in or a, have fun dear, when I left. I started picking up the book sack and ballet bag while my wife continued in the kitchen.
"What was Kristen working on?" Sara asked
"Huh?"
"Kristen, what dance was she working on?" Sara repeated.
"I haven't got a clue." I told her honestly "You know I don't know dance."
I was glad my back was to her because the memory of Kristen's dancing made my heart beat a little faster and I was sure it was written all over my face.
"Well was it at least ballet?" Sara asked me.
"No, it was definitely not ballet." I replied.
I must have said the last part a little too emphatically because when I looked up Sara was staring at me with a look that said I'd just given away a secret.
"Oh? And why was it definitely NOT ballet?" Wringing her hands with a towel Sara was becoming amused with herself knowing I'd said too much.
I tried to change the expression on my face from wanton to disgust. "How the hell would I know? All the dances look alike to me. It just seemed slower than ballet."
"Uh, huh" she said not fully believing me but letting it go.
After dinner we got the kids in bed and sat on the couch together. Normally this is the time I watch TV and Sara reads or surfs Facebook. Flipping through the channels I saw Grease was still on and out of curiosity I turned it on. It didn't take five minutes before my wife was asking what the hell I was watching.
"Grease," I told her, trying to sound excited.
"You like Grease now?" She asked without looking up from the iPad. "I don't know. I guess I was just curious." I said not knowing what I really expected from the show. Maybe I was hoping to be as excited as Kristen was.
It was at the hunting camp that I first told my brother about my new found admiration. Nick worked I.T. support at Kristen's office so I knew he could appreciate my point of view, but he didn't relate on the level I'd hoped. He agreed that yes she was pretty but insisted that I should really see Holly, the new intern.
"It's not just that she's pretty" I tried to explain. "She gets excited about stupid things; it's infectious to see her get happy and excited about TV shows or plays."
"I'm sorry, you want to watch more TV? Is that what you're saying?" Nick asked with a disproving look.
"No, asshole. I'm saying it's nice to see someone get excited every now and then. Sara's a good person but I swear that at some point in the wedding the priest offered to remove her emotions." I was now being defensive and that's never a good way to argue with your brother.
"John, I'd be willing to bet you're the first person in history to ask that their wife be more emotional."
Trying to ignore Nick's sarcasm I continued, "You remember when they clear cut that park near my house? The one where Sara always took Charlie for a walk?"
"Yeah." Nick said.
"Well after they clear cut it I was walking by and found some flowers still growing there. I picked them and put them in a vase for Sara. When I gave them to her I told her where I'd found them and her comment to me was 'They Stink' and she put them outside."
"Well did they stink?" Nick asked.
"Yes" I had to admit "but you're missing the point."
Nick put down his coffee, facing me with actual concern and asked "Okay brother, so what is the point."
"I don't know. Maybe it's the seven year itch, albeit a couple years too late, or maybe I'm bored or horny. I don't know, but I really think I just want things to be exciting again or to see that what I do impacts someone."
"Oh now I see you're problem." Nick said "You're a fag."
"You're a real fucking prick you know that" I said laughing.
"You just need to get laid." Nick told me.
"Ehh, we have sex often enough." I argued and continued before he could say something else. "But every time it's the same thing. I always have to be the one to initiate it and only if certain conditions are met. Wait for the kids to go to sleep, then only after a shower, then only in missionary. It'd be nice to have her start it every now and then. Call me a fag if you want but it'd be nice to feel wanted."
Nick was back in his coffee and obviously getting bored. "First off you are a fag and if sex is that big a problem, why don't you just get a whore?"
This is the risk you run trying to open up to a guy especially when he's your younger brother. With the conversation going nowhere I changed the subject.
"Hey, you mind if I take Duke with me this morning? I'm gonna hunt the north side of Big lake?"
Duke was my brother's bird dog; a black lab that could pick up 3 ducks in one trip. It sure would have been helpful to have him retrieve my birds instead of driving the boat out to get them each time.
"Fuck no. It'd be a waste of time since you can't hit the broad side of a barn, in fact if you were shooting into the air you'd miss."
"Yeah? How many birds did you kill yesterday?" I offered.
My brother was a terrible hunter, just never could sit still. I think he came out here more to get away from his wife than anything else.
Instead of answering my question it was his turn to change the subject. "When do you go back to work?"
"I've got another 3 weeks off. Why?"
"Just curious when your next ass whipping is coming up. I wanted to prepare mom so she doesn't freak out again."
My brother's an asshole and always brought it up when he wanted a good laugh. A number of years ago I was beat pretty bad by locals at a bar in Lagos, Nigeria. I'm sure I said something stupid and deserved it but the truth is I was fall down drunk and don't remember much. I can assure you that the last place you want to receive critical care is Lagos.
I was a 3rd mate at the time and it was my first job on a ship. Since then I've stopped drinking and started working out. At the time we had a bosun that ran a boxing gym in Los Angeles and Carson gave me a training regiment, promising if I did what he said I wouldn't be beat on again. A bosun is a deck foreman, he runs the unlicensed crew and makes sure that maintenance the chief mate wants done is done. The bosun may not be an officer but he's usually well respected and honestly more valuable to the ship than I was as a 3rd mate. Carson was the scariest man I'd ever met; he had me running on deck every night and even hung a heavy bag on the stern for me to practice. I enjoyed boxing and fought several amateur fights on my time off.
Now 34, and a Chief Mate on a VLCC ship (very large crude carrier), yes that's a real term; I haven't fought in over 3 years, but I never stopped working out. The training even got me out of a couple bad scrapes. At 5'10" I don't qualify as tall or intimidating so it's helpful to have something to fall back on. In the past few years I've become vain about my appearance; always comparing myself to the cover of Men's Health to make sure my stomach was as toned or my arms were just as big. Working out had become part of my routine on the ship.
Three weeks passed and my next voyage was to South America when I got an email from Nick saying that when I got home he had a present for me. I didn't think anything of it, and honestly forgot about it by the time I got home 6 weeks later.
Nick called the day after I got home. "Hey brother, come over for whiskey one night when you get a chance."
Nick and his wife lived in a one bedroom apartment and I loved going over there. His place was like a sanctuary for me, with no kids and breakable things on every shelf. However, the night I came over his wife wasn't home.
"Please tell me you just remembered that you have another bottle of Pappy's?" I asked as he walked me in.
"Nope better." he said gabbing some glasses and filling them with ice
