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I felt heartache for the first time, when I was eighteen, at the hands of a girl in high school, while we were both seniors. I'd met her two years earlier at the local roller rink and we were together ever since that night. Being the same age, we'd both spent plenty of time on the phone getting to know everything about each other, until we finally got our driver's licenses.
Dana, my girlfriend, had three cousins - a twin boy and a girl - her age, and another a year younger. The twins were the ones who'd introduced us. I was approached by her cousin Daniel about getting a bunch of tickets for the upcoming Bob Seger concert. Back then, he was just coming into fame. We went to the box office, carloads at a time, and staggered ourselves in line buying six tickets each and then reselling them at school.
The concert was awesome. The first of three was on a Thursday and I went with friends from school, but I was looking forward to the Saturday with my girl, Dana. We went in Daniel's Chevy Nova. 'We' included me and Dana, Daniel and his girlfriend, and his sister, Vicky, and her boyfriend Jeff. Jeff also went to Dana's school.
On the way home, with Daniel and his gal up front, and the four of us in the back, we were talking about all we saw and heard at the concert. At one point, Vicky and Dana gave each other a look - a signal I soon found out - and Vicky shuffled under her cousin as my Dana climbed over her.
Within seconds, Vicky was basically in my lap, and Dana was on Jeff's.
Vicky gave a sultry look - or something resembling one - and leaned in to kiss me. The kiss was hot! She didn't hesitate to give me full tongue, and was really into it. I don't know why, but as a teenager, I always kissed with my eyes closed. Suddenly I had a thought.
As I opened my eyes, I could see Dana, right there over Vicky's shoulder, her tongue dancing with Jeff's, just like Vicky and I were doing. Jeff was also getting a good feel of Dana's tits with both hands.
For reasons unbeknownst to me at that tender age, I quickly threw Vicky off my lap, which interrupted Dana and Jeff, who were looking at us with questioning gazes. Dana could see the anger written on my face. I looked up at the rearview mirror and saw Daniel had been watching the entire time.
"Take me home first," I ordered him. The car erupted, Dana was back on my lap saying "sorry," and from the others, there were "it was just a joke" and "just a game," and my favorite of all-time, although I'd need to get much older to understand, "It didn't mean anything."
The fruitless pleas turned to demeaning and derogatory comments, as the group tried to turn their stupid idea back on me. "Come on, Brian, stop acting like a baby. It was just to see what both of you guys would do," said cousin Vicky.
Those comments turned to "Little bitch, fucking pussy, and asshole" when I would not relent. I tuned them all out, just staring out the window. I knew I was the odd man out, and this got out at school, I'd have to endure more hassle. After all, it was the five of them against me. Dana kept trying to turn my face towards hers, but finally, after fifteen or so minutes she stopped and just sat in silence next to me.
Jeff was the one who finally pushed it too far, as Daniel entered my neighborhood. "Fuck dude," he said, "you're bullshit cry-baby attitude ruined a good time. Your chick deserves better." I didn't get any punches in with both girls basically between him and me, while they tried to grab my arms. I think I may have hit one of them in the shoulder, but Daniel had seen it coming and raced up and into my driveway.
"Fuck all of you!" I screamed getting out. Jeff was laughing, basically mocking me. I told him to watch his fucking back.
I thought hard about my actions for the next few days. I learned then that I was a one-woman man, and would always be. As much as Dana's actions hurt, I also realized that the lessons I learned about myself were valuable and life-long. Besides never wanting to share my partner, I knew I would always be the kind of man that wouldn't fold to peer pressure.
Dana called all that evening and for the next several days. It was all landlines back then, so eventually, my mother just took the phone off the hook. When I finally did take her call, five days later, she was apologizing profusely. She claimed it was a spur-of-the-moment idea while she and Vicky were in the restroom at the concert, and she promised to never do anything like that again. I did accept her apology and we stayed together until we both went our separate ways to college.
Thirty-two years later, Dana and I reconnected after first marriages, raising our kids, and divorces. Ironically, when we first recalled the event, she told me she'd later learned that both Daniel and Vicky had planned the entire thing. Vicky wanted to 'steal' me from Dana, and since she went to my school, she must have thought she had a good shot. Daniel never liked me much, but he did have a crush on his cousin. Vicky only went to the concert with Jeff with the intent of making me jealous. Now, in our sixties, we can have a good laugh about the incident. Dana knows that she doesn't have to be 'in touch' with the old me - the young me showed her that being with another guy, in any way at all, would be devastating to our relationship.
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I don't know how it had turned to shit so quickly. I've wondered over the years, what if I'd handled things differently? Could I have, and still looked myself in the mirror? Highly unlikely. I am who I am. Of course, being unbending and unbreakable has its drawbacks. I've lost a lot of friends over the years, but then again, were those people ever really friends to begin with? Looking back, and tallying things up, I have to say 'yes,' when asked, "Was it all worth it?"
Emma, formally, Emily Jensen, nee Morrisette, was relentless. Her fiery red hair matched perfectly her personality. Both things were a result of her Irish lineage from both parents. Sadly, her mother had passed at an early age, one year before I met Emma. That had only inspired Emma to live life to its fullest. Her father, named Robert, just like me, seemed okay with me, although he was buried under the weight of being a widower with a teenager at home.
I met Emma because of my job. The restaurant I worked at from age nineteen to twenty-one was part of a three-unit group. Two were in the Detroit area, and one was near Flint. I'd already worked my way to shift lead and was hoping for a promotion to assistant manager. The restaurants were owned and operated by three brothers, about ten years older than me, and ranging from twenty-eight to thirty-two at that time. Lance Peters, was the oldest, and the one I worked with most at our Warren, Michigan store. The other two were Michael and Russ.
Lance tried to maintain a family atmosphere since it was a family-style restaurant. Two of the main cooks were childhood friends of the Peter's boys. The youngest, Brian, was married and a few years my elder. We also had twin sisters working the front counter, who were eighteen then and just getting ready to graduate, introduced me to Emma at a high school Co-op work program banquet. Emma was also eighteen at the time.
Emma was far more into me initially, and she pushed the envelope. When I didn't ask her out after the banquet, Emma would show up as a customer and sit at the counter with a melted bowl of ice cream for hours, trying to make small talk when I wandered over there. The twins were always laughing, and making little comments under their breath. When Emma wasn't there, either of them would constantly bother me about asking their friend out on a date.
Finally, I did, and by our third date, I was having real feelings for Emma. I began to see her as someone that I could spend a lot of time with, and over the next several months, my feelings grew even deeper. Eleven months after our first date, I asked Emma to marry me. She excitedly accepted.
A few things nagged at me though. Her 'all-out' personality could get her in some trouble if she wasn't careful. I talked to her about it a few times. When I told her to think before rushing into a situation, she was slightly placating, which pissed me off. We argued that night and she said she loved me and didn't want her personality to interfere with our love. I relented slightly. Okay, I simply relented, but I told myself we ended up in a stalemate. I wanted her to start taking a 'look before you leap' approach.
Her father and a cousin that we spent a fair amount of time with, named Cathy, always used her Irishness as an excuse for her persistence of being 'right' all the time. I actually think part of her attraction to me was that I didn't just fold when she argued her point as gospel. We got married in a small ceremony. My mother and younger brother had moved to California the year I met Emma. She and my father had divorced when I was fourteen, and neither had recovered financially. My dad lived in Texas, and we rarely spoke.
Emma's dad offered to front us four grand to get started after our nuptials. Emma and I had been tipped off to a single-wide mobile home in a nice park, twenty minutes north of the restaurant. In 1979, that area was still very rural too, which suited us. Brian, the cook from the restaurant, and his wife, Darla, had told us about the mobile home, which had been on the market for only eight thousand. With the money from Emma's dad, we put half down and ended up with a two hundred-ten dollar per month mortgage.
Life was good. Emma got hired at our other location in East Detroit, and we were making decent money for not having gone the college route. When we weren't off exploring, going to concerts, or getting used to domestic life and chores, we were with friends from the restaurant or her cousin Cathy, and her boyfriend Ron.
The twins, Debbie and Lana, were Emma's bridesmaids, Debbie being the maid of honor. They were also frequent guests at our get-togethers. My best friend from high school was Doug. He and Emma got along great, and we had him over pretty regularly, even spending some Saturdays hiking, boating, or on Detroit's riverfront.
Brian and Darla were our 'go-to' couple for movies, dinner and dancing, and the like. Both were older by four years, and I was sure it was Darla who told Brian they weren't attending our little Saturday night drinking parties. It didn't bother me that much. Brian, although a good friend, had a next-door neighbor named Troy Carmody, who was twenty-seven and I hated the way he looked at Emma like a piece of meat. He never tried to hide his dark lust either, so I tried to steer clear of Brian's house.
Now Southern Michigan is a funny place to grow up. That has ninety percent to do with the long, cold winters, I'm sure. During our first winter together as a married couple, Emma was bored senseless. We compensated by starting the Saturday night parties. Of course, we didn't actually call them that. We were both Emma and me, and all the others who came over, also Michiganders. That meant we were all very familiar with these kinds of get-togethers from the beginning of high school. Lots of the parties from high school, including drinking games, dare games like spin-the-bottle, and of course the grand-daddy, strip poker. Since girls were rarely willing to play poker, guys were constantly trying to come up with easier games that would yield the same results.
I don't remember the exact night when we first played a version of truth or dare. I know it was well into autumn, because our friend, Ron got the worst of it. He had to streak to the end of our street and back, and he was still shivering an hour later, despite the heavy amounts of alcohol we consumed that night.
That morphed a few weeks later into the closet game. We didn't have a closet, so it was our spare bedroom, where occasionally, the twins would crash when they were too hammered to drive. You remember - two people spin and end up in the closet, and the others have to try and guess what they'd gotten up to when they came out two minutes later.
I was always of the mind that Emma would kill me if I even touched another girl, so it became boring pretty fast when it was my turn because everyone's answer to what I did with one of the girls was always "nothing!"
Things happen, and that year it was the holiday season that kept our little group apart. Brian had been asked to work in the East Detroit location, for training purposes. It was good for me, because most days, he could give Emma a lift home, and I wouldn't have to drive fifteen miles in the other direction. I didn't see much of Brian that month, but due to staffing issues at my location, I didn't even have time to see my best friend, Doug, except on Christmas Eve.
It wasn't until the last week of January, that the group got back together. As we sat around our kitchen table drinking, my wife shocked me.
"I found out about a new game we can play," she said nonchalantly. Most of us looked up at her.
"It's called suicide," she claimed. It was another card game that included dares, and as she described it, I thought I remembered playing something like it in high school, although with a different name.
The dealer turns cards - face up, to each player - and the person who gets the ace of spades makes up a dare for the person who gets the ace of clubs. It was pretty simple until we all started asking questions.
"What kind of dares are we talking about," Lana asked sheepishly.
"That's the fun part," Emma quickly responded. "The sky's the limit."
There were more questions all around before we decided to give it a test drive. I had to admit, there was an element of danger and taboo excitement that came along with the game, and not only the worry if you got the ace of clubs, but also to see what someone else may need to do.
"What happens if someone reneges on the dare?" I asked. "What if they won't do it?"
"Ah," my wife said, "there's a penalty, that we all have to agree on before starting."
We asked about that, too. I was wondering where my wife had learned about this game. Since we were playing 'light,' we made the penalty less dangerous too. A suggestion was made, by Doug that anyone who wouldn't complete a dare, should get completely naked and sit on the couch playing with themselves for three minutes. As much fun as I thought that might be, my mind went to the obvious 'wet spot' on my sofa. Debbie said we could streak, but we'd already done that. Someone else suggested pouring hot sauce on our hands and rubbing our eyes after only rinsing. That also seemed harsh.
It seems the punishment, or penalty has to be greater than any of the dares," Ron interrupted. "Since we're only giving this a test run, and the dares won't be extreme, why don't we just make the punishment that the person refusing the dare, has to sit here nude for the rest of the game? That should be harsh enough for tonight."
Ron didn't talk much, and I could say we weren't even really friends, but when he did, he was often the voice of reason. We all agreed.
The game was sluggish. If the sky was truly the limit, none of us wanted to breach it. Doug got Lana to kiss her sister, Debbie, who technically involved a third person, but no one but me seemed to notice. The Linda Lovelace movie was still in theatres then, so Cathy thought it would be fun to get Emma to deep-throat a banana. I had to admit, it was fun. Ron had to drop trou for 30 seconds. I didn't watch that. Emma reciprocated and made her cousin suck a hard-boiled egg and pretend it was a testicle. Cathy, always the life of the party, and very drunk by then, made a big spectacle of herself.
The next morning after Lana and Debbie left - they spent the night in our guest room - I started grilling Emma about the game.
"Who told you about suicide?" I asked, pretending to not care.
"Oh, just a friend," she replied with ease.
"And does the friend have a name?" my voice a little edgier.
"Just someone... at the restaurant," she stammered. "You don't know them. They're new."
To go further, I'd be calling her a liar, or at least made it seem that way, so I backed off. "Next time you come up with something like that, run it by me first," I finished.
Emma rolled her eyes at me.
It wasn't the first time, but she was definitely making a statement.
The following weekend found us all together again. The girls were sitting at the kitchen table discussing, well, 'girlie' things. Doug, Ron, and I were watching a hockey game, in the living room. As soon as the game ended us guys heard some hushed tones in the kitchen, and the four women came to join us, saying in unison, "Hey guys, let's play suicide again!"
We'd been enjoying the game and the conversation, but one by one we all relented. Doug told us all he needed to get going, but the girls guilt-tripped him into staying. Once again, we took our seats, and someone said we needed a penalty.
No one said things would escalate, but we all knew it was coming. A half-full pilsner of beer was placed in the bathroom. We all drew strips of paper, and a control strip was taped to the bathroom door. Over the next half hour, anyone who used the head was to compare the strip they drew with the control strip. If it was different, that person had to add some of their piss to the glass, but not say anything. Whatever was in the glass, along with the beer, was the penalty for the uncooperative player to drink in front of everyone.
That first night, I hadn't gotten either ace, so I was somewhat comfortable being a spectator. Lulled into a false sense of security was more like it. In the second round, I got the ace of clubs. Debbie was giggling with the ace of spades.
"I've been thinking about this all week!" she screeched. "Rob, you have to lick your wife's... feet. For two minutes." Others at the table seemed to like the idea.
I've never been for or against feet. They don't turn me on, like some people, but I'm not completely turned off by them either. Emma's were... smallish, I guess, compared to some other women. They were soft, and she often put her leg over mine while we slept. She had been in shoes and socks all day, so I asked her to go wash them.
"Nope!" Debbie exclaimed. "Just like they are. Kiss those stinky feet, boy!"
I knew it was a joke. She was only playing, but it was suddenly humiliating. It took a few minutes after Emma took off her shoes and socks for me to get my nerve up. They weren't really stinky, but I made a big deal out of it like they were the worst-smelling things on earth. That got everyone in an uproar.
Ron made Doug brush his teeth with toothpaste and Tabasco sauce. Nothing sexual between two guys was my thinking. I wasn't going to be using my toothbrush ever again.
Lana had Cathy spread chocolate syrup on her giant boobies and lick it off. Some dribbled down onto her belly and Ron made a big deal of licking that off. We were having fun with the game. Everyone was on edge, and that made it all the more exciting.
The rest of the game was uneventful. That was mostly because a spade drawer found themselves in an awkward position of hurting the feelings of the player who drew the club. Each person at our table had limits when it came to one or more friends. I felt better about things by the end of the night.
Midweek, I got off a little early. All the new staff had been trained, and the restaurant was pretty slow, so Lance told me to go enjoy the afternoon. I was excited pulling into our park because I knew Emma would be home any minute. We'd have some time together, and I'd thought about taking her out to dinner, and then having some real fun when we got home.
I looked down Brian's street and his car was in the driveway. That meant my wife was already home. I was so deep in that thought, that I almost missed them. Just a block ahead of me was Emma, walking towards home - and that sleaze ball - Troy.
"Hey sexy," I said in a nondescript manner and trying to keep my anger in check. "Want a ride?"
The look on Emma's face was... I couldn't say. She seemed aghast. It was not surprise, it was much more than that. She'd been caught doing... what? Walking? Troy gave a weak, sheepish wave, and looked everywhere but at me. Every nerve in my body tingled.
Emma recovered, but slightly. Then it got worse, as the two of them suddenly became confused about how to part ways. It only lasted a split-second, but there was a hesitation there, that Troy finally tried to mask.
He stepped back and turned towards home. "Bye, Emma," he said, but his face said more. My wife said "Bye," as she came around the passenger side of the car.
"What was all that?" I asked immediately.
"What? Nothing," was her clever response.
"Yeah," I spat. "What are you doing with that slime?"
"I'm not doing anything with him," she answered defensively. "We were just walking."
She was going to play that game. "Okay, Emma, why were you with him - walking?" I said taking a deep breath, preparing for an argument.
"He was just walking me home," she said. She was trying to remain calm and failing.
"Like high school?" I asked snidely. "Were you two holding hands before I drove up? And when you got 'home?'"
"No, and no!" she replied. "That's what I said - we weren't doing anything."
"Emma," I said, "I'm not stupid. Why were you both so nervous then? Now I asked you, why was he walking you HOME, to my house?"
"It's our house," she reminded me. "And he was going for a walk anyway. Brian and I pulled into his driveway, and Troy saw me. He asked if he could walk with me."
"Um, I see," I said. "Okay, Emma, listen to me. I don't want you around that fucker. He's bad news. Don't even think of inviting him into 'our' home when I'm not here. I don't like him, and I'm asking you to respect your husband's wishes and stay clear. Will you do that?"
"He's not a fucker, or any of those other things you called him." She was pleading her case. "You'd like him if you'd give it a chance."
"You didn't answer me," I responded, ignoring her defense of Troy.
"Yes," she said immediately. "Of course, but I think you're wrong. In fact, I know you are. Troy's not a bad guy. He's a little cocky, and maybe a bit overconfident - a bragger, too - maybe. And I would never have any guy in our house unless it was Doug when you're not there."
It was cold that night. I didn't feel like taking her out to dinner any longer, and as the thick air persisted, I also lost interest in having sex. I was moping, and she was trying to stay out of my way. We didn't bring up Troy the rest of the night, and I watched a ballgame, while Emma went to be early.
Things were less frosty in the morning, but we didn't have a chance to talk, as Emma had to be in to work by eight, and Brian had to be there at seven, so we both only had time to get ready. That night we did go out for pizza, and Emma was semi-apologetic. She still wasn't seeing what I was seeing, but she seemed genuine. We had sex that night and talked about the weekend. Emma had a friend from her location that was having a Super Bowl party, and we were invited. I expected Doug to come over and watch at our house, so I told her I'd need to check. Of course, she asked about our Saturday night get-together, which was now just a bunch of people drinking and doing stupid dares.
"Maybe we can skip it this week, babe," I said, more than asked. "There will be enough booze flowing on Sunday. Plus, if we end up at your co-worker's party, I don't want to be hung over."
"No," she said as if it was her final answer. "The twins and my cousin are already planning on it. Just drink less, Rob."
Saturday was busy. It had snowed overnight so was out clearing the drive and the street in front of the house, for our guests. At least the sun was out. Emma was making her seven-layer dip for the football party, when I came in, so I helped her. I'd made a big pot of Chowder on Friday night, so as it was now cooled I split it up into smaller containers. I took a shower around five and got dressed for the evening's festivities. Then I drove to the restaurant to get the tray of cold cuts - 1970s Michigan speak for Charcuterie - and stopped at the liquor store for some alcohol and snacks.
When I got back, I was immediately irritated. The twins were sitting on the couch, talking to - Troy! Emma saw the look on my face and motioned toward the door. She followed me out to get the rest of the items from my car.
"What the fuck is he doing here?" I could barely contain myself.
"Doug called after you left," she started. "He apologized and said he couldn't make it because he was helping his brother set up for his party tomorrow. He's also going there, and said he wasn't planning on being here."
"Again, Emma," I said with a deep sigh, "you're still stuck in being unable to answer a direct question. I never asked you about Doug."
"Okay," she squealed, "I invited him. Okay? He's not a bad guy, Rob. This is a good chance for you to get to know him. You'll see."
"Emma," I said. "Whether you or I think he's a nice guy or not, do you really think inviting him to... this, is a good idea? You know what we'll get up to. It's supposed to be private."
"I guess," she shrugged. "But he already knows about it. He's the one who taught me the... game."
That pause made me sick. She'd been spending more time with him than I knew about. Certainly, more than she'd shared. She'd also lied and told me it was some new person at her work that taught her the card game.
"Fuck, Emma," I screamed. "You tell me the truth right now! Do the two of you have something going on behind my back, cause I'm about to kill somebody!"
"No!" she screamed back. "NO! He's just a... friend." Another pause.
"You tell me everything right now," I demanded, "All the time you've spent any time with him. At his house, walking you 'home,' All of it - no lies either - or I'm going in the house and tossing his ass, right after I pummel his smug face."
Emma had that trapped look on her face. She was also stalling, clearly trying to figure out how much to say. I just stood there with the car door open, and my hands on my hips.
"Alright, settle down," she said, quieter. "I walked with him four or five times. He..." I cut her off.
"Emma, we're close to calling off tonight, and a major fight. Surely you can remember if it was four or five?"
"It was four," she replied confidently.
"Since when?" I asked her right back. "When did this little friendship start?"
"Since the beginning of the year," she told me, "or thereabout. I talked to him a few times in his yard, after getting out of Brian's car. The first time, Brian was there talking too. A few times, he did invite me in for hot chocolate, or whatever, but I always declined. Then he started saying he needed to take a walk and could he walk with me. I've never invited him into our house, nor has he ever asked."
"And about this stupid fucking game?" I asked hotly. Her face changed. She was getting frustrated with the inquisition.
"I don't know, exactly," she sniped. "It was just conversation, Rob. He asked something like what we all did when we got together. I told him, I guess I mentioned some dare games, or whatever, and he told me he knew one that was way more fun. So he told me."
The son-of-a-bitch was working on my wife. And she hadn't even picked up on it! Or, she was lying to me. Now instead of going ballistic and ending the night, I needed that fucker to stay, just so I could determine how bad things were.
"Look at me, Emma," I said more somberly. "Are you fucking? Have you had sex with him?"
"Just STOP!" she was as angry as I'd ever seen her. "You need to check yourself right here, right now. I haven't 'fucked' him - or anyone else - since before we first met. I love you, but you need to knock it off. We haven't done anything except talk, and walk and talk. You're accusing your own wife of things that are going to cause us big trouble. I'm going to take the high ground and walk away. You stay out here and think about things for a minute and then calm down. When you come back in, your attitude had better be different. He's staying for the party, and you need to treat him like a guest. We'll talk about this tomorrow, or after everyone leaves."
"Okay, Emma," I told her, still fuming. "We'll do it your way for now. And you can bet your ass we'll be talking about all of this after the party breaks up. Any bullshit or smart-assed remarks from him, and I'll end the party in a New York minute. I need a sec to get myself under control. You can take that time to tell 'your friend' to behave if you like. Hell, you can even tell him what I said."
Emma snorted and rolled her eyes. Besides pissing me off, I was starting to get a really bad feeling. I was anxious about the night, and I was worried about our marriage. I decided to pay close attention to the interaction between them, and everything he said. I wasn't going to be drinking.
Ron and Cathy had parked across the street and slinked into the house while Emma and I had been arguing. When I went inside with the rest of the beer and booze, everyone was sitting quietly around the kitchen table. No sooner had I put the stuff on the counter, than Troy was right there behind me with his hand extended.
"Thank you for inviting me tonight, Rob," he said sincerely, making eye contact, yet knowing had nothing to do with his presence. I shook his hand. "I don't know you very well, so I'm grateful for the opportunity." I could only nod.
When he released my hand, he left it held out there, waiting for me to give him a beer. After I put one in his hand, he turned and retook his seat. That left one place for me, and it was directly opposite my wife. I took note of that.
Our single wide had a front den, facing the street. The kitchen was beyond that, then the living room and the hallway heading towards the back. The guest room was closest, then the bathroom, and finally the master bedroom. The kitchen was raised just one step higher than the den and the living room, with a little railing covering about half the width of the dining area. That's where Emma was sitting, with me across from her. I had Debbie on my right, with Troy on her other side. To my left was Cathy, then Ron.
I hadn't even said hello to any of them. Ron was looking, but trying not to appear he was. I cracked the beer, took a deep breath, and said, "So, what'd I miss?"
It was eerily quiet among our friends I noticed. Troy spoke up.
"We were discussing the penalty for tonight's game, while you were bringing in the goodies," he stated. He then looked around the table, "Does anybody want to tell Rob what we came up with?"
Troy was trying to be on his best behavior. Anyone could see that. More likely, he was trying to behave to a point where I'd look stupid if I impugned or challenged anything he said.
Ron decided to break the ice. The fact it was him wasn't lost on me either.
"Royal flush swirlie." He stated matter-of-factly.
"What?" I asked, not entirely sure I heard him right.
"You know," he continued, "a swirlie. A dirty one."
I just stared at him.
Troy took the opportunity again. "Yeah, it's a good penalty, because nobody wants to be dragged by the other players into a dirty commode, head first."
"Yeah," I sighed, "especially not by one's friends. Not the kind of things 'friends' would do."
"They shouldn't," he answered immediately, "unless they're all playing suicide together. From what I've heard, you guys aren't playing it as intended. It's called suicide for a reason. We'll up the ante tonight.
"There's a few more rules, too," Troy said in an overbearing tone, he tried hard to hide. He then open-hand waved toward Emma, as if giving her the floor. I was getting more uncomfortable with this situation by the minute.
Emma introduced the rule that if the same player got both aces, they get to make up a dare for the group, or any combination of members of the group, excluding themselves. She also told us that whatever penalty we agreed to, others at the table could be used to enforce the penalty on the non-conforming player, as had been alluded to with the swirlie. Lana, Ron, and I seemed ready to object, but I was the only one to say something.
"We could always just drink, smoke a little and enjoy each other's company?" I suggested, looking directly at my wife. She half-smiled, and by that I mean half cocky, and half unsure of herself, just as if she had an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other.
Lana was on Troy's left, next to Emma. The entire time, Troy had been casually shuffling the cards.
"Would you like to deal first, Emma?" he asked sliding the deck across the table to her. She blushed.
The first round was pretty mild. Emma dealt herself the ace of spades, and Cathy the other ace. She had to repeat the deep-throating, but with a hot dog.
Since Troy was the new kid on the block, he got some attention. Lana also dealt herself the spade, and her sister got the other. She had Debbie kiss Troy for one minute. I noticed that was new too. She'd left herself out and imposed another player.
Troy didn't waste any time when he dealt himself both aces. "Hmm," he said, pretending to have to think something through.
"Rob, have you ever had twins before?" he asked with a sly grin.
"Well, no," I said sheepishly. "I can't get pregnant, so..." My joke fell flatly on the group as the implications swirled in their minds. Troy saw it too.
"Lana - Debbie," he stated proudly, "Give Rob a hand job until he cums."
I was stunned. I looked directly at my wife, and she wore the same expression.
"Oh, I don't..." I stammered. "Let's not. Umm, pick another dare." I knew I sounded ridiculous.
"No," Troy said with finality. "It's how the game works. Plus, that's about the mildest one on my mind."
I looked at Ron, and he didn't make eye contact. He'd be of no help, I realized, if I needed it. Emma broke the mumbling between the twins.
"Chop, chop, ladies," my wife said, suddenly smiling. "Unless you want your pretty hair to smell like pee for a week."
The girls were asking some questions, and I was lost in thought.
Finally, the twins led me over near the refrigerator, so everyone had a good view. They dropped to their knees on either side of me and undid my snap. Two warm hands snaked into my pants, one gripping my hardening shaft, and the other fondling my balls.
The look I caught on Emma's face, wasn't at all what I expected. She wore a smile - a semi-evil smile. She should've been pissed, or floored. The others were eager to watch things play out. My mind was so conflicted by how we'd all gotten here - how I'd allowed myself to get here, that it took a minute to get fully hard, let alone excited. The twins kept looking at each other, and then, up at me, questioningly.
"Are we doing it r..." Lana started, before I quickly interrupted.
"YeS!" My voice squeaked. Lana found the spot, and my nerve endings overcame my embarrassment.
Debbie felt it too, and while her sister was doing her thing, Debbie unceremoniously pulled my pants and briefs down. Now I stood there with a boner and an audience. Troy looked rather pleased with himself. Debbie wanted a turn and told her sister to stop hogging. Lana made a big deal, with a sigh, that said, 'go for it, slut.'
Emma watched in amazement - again - the wrong emotion as far as I was concerned. Cathy had a look of admiration, and Ron was trying not to pay any attention.
In three minutes, or thereabout, I couldn't hold out any longer. None of us had thought to get a towel or napkin, so I just shot all over our floor, with Lana jerking for all she was worth, and her sister, actually trying to catch some on her palm.
I immediately pulled my pants back up, while Emma told the twins to clean up their mess. I grabbed a beer, breaking a promise to myself, and sat down.
"See, isn't it a lot more fun when we play it right?" Troy said to me, looking like the Cheshire Cat. I only shrugged.
It was my turn to deal, and my brain was so twisted up, I didn't have a dare ready. This would be the fourth time in five rounds that the dealer also got the tell card. The odds of that happening were remarkably low. Finally, with nothing in mind, I made Cathy rinse her mouth out with white vinegar. I wasn't about to piss Ron off. He seemed worthless to me, should something bad happen, but pissing him off was something I couldn't afford to do.
My thoughts were still swimming uphill, and I couldn't honestly tell you what happened on Cathy or Ron's deal. We were back to Emma and decided to take a break. I went out with Cathy and Debbie to smoke, and almost everyone used the head.
I never heard it flush even once.
Emma joined us, wrapping her arms around my waist from behind. "Wasn't that fun, baby?" she asked in a sultry voice.
I shrugged without answering. "Yeah, right!" she said, lightly punching my arm. "That was hot! I almost started touching my kitty."
The entire thing was so out of character for Emma. My anger was returning, even as I tried to force it back down. The anger manifested in a fear that this was a side of Emma I'd never seen.
"Have you been discussing tonight with Troy?" I asked out of nowhere. "The dares, I mean?" The smile left my wife's face, and the accusation, made the other two seem to shrink inward a bit.
Emma wanted to lash out. I'd seen that temper many times. But now, she was in front of her cousin and her friend, so she mulled over an appropriate answer.
"Are we gonna do this again, right now?" she asked annoyed.
"When were you with him?" I asked another, ignoring hers. "Discussing this?"
"Fuck," she couldn't hold back now. "Yes, we talked about it. There, are you happy? Quit being such a damned baby." She immediately turned and walked back inside.
Cathy quickly flicked her cigarette and left Debbie and me alone on the porch.
"You have anything you'd like to share, friend?" I asked her sarcastically. "Anything at all that might explain how much trouble we're in?" I motioned inside towards where my wife had just gone.
"No." was all she said, bowing her head. Emma and I were going to have it out, the minute this shit show was over. We wouldn't be sleeping together, and tomorrow, I'd probably go to Doug's brother's house for the football game. If she wanted to continue with the attitude, then I'd probably stay gone for a day or two, until she came to her senses. If she wouldn't stop the friendship, it would be far worse.
Debbie and I walked back into the house. For the first time, I noticed the rearranged living room. I'd been so mad when I came in from the first argument I hadn't even seen it, although it was glaring. Where the sofa was always on the wall by the hall, facing the kitchen, and the TV stand was in the corner where it could be watched from all the furniture, the TV and sofa were now switched. As I looked closer, I saw two white coax cables coming from the back of the set, and seemingly headed down the hallway.
"What the hell is that?" I asked no one in particular.
"Troy followed my gaze and said, "Oh, that's in case we get up to something really naughty." He chuckled.
Emma quickly added, "So we can all watch. Make sure the dare is completed."
If the hairs on my neck, had settled a bit, they were back to full attention. I wanted to end the night right then and there, but Emma was already dealing cards.
My wife got the ace of clubs about halfway through the deck, and the last card - her card - was the ace of spades. The odds of that were now astronomical, and I knew I'd need to start watching the shuffles, on top of everything else.
"Oh, goodie!" she exclaimed. "I know just the thing! Popsicle time!" she was clapping her hands together quickly. I had no idea what she was talking about. We didn't have any popsicles.
Emma strolled over to the freezer and pulled out a single Ring Pop. That was confusing since they usually have hard candy attached. Whatever was on the end of that pacifier was cloudy white in color.
Emma handed it to Cathy. "Everybody has to lick until it's gone." My wife said triumphantly.
Cathy looked very reluctant.
She gave it a tiny lick and passed it to her boyfriend.
"What is it?" Lana asked.
As Ron licked it, Cathy shouted out "ewwwe-ah" before grabbing her beer and chugging it. Ron's face turned white, much like the thing he'd just put in his mouth.
By now, Emma had it. She rolled it across her lips, just before putting it fully in her mouth and sucking on it. If the substance was what I thought, then the least of her problems would be me staying away for a few days. I just couldn't wrap my head around it. It had to be a joke. She wouldn't do that right in front of me, and a group of friends, if it was real.
When the pop left her mouth, it was nearly half its original size. She swallowed and made a big show of it, too. Then she handed it to Lana. I'd find out now. Lana had confessed one drunken night that she'd tasted cum once, and she never would again.
Lana looked at it for a long time. No one at the table had said a word about it being physically frozen sperm, neither the ones who'd already had a taste nor the rest of us. Lana, I suppose, being brave also put the whole thing in her mouth. By the time her taste buds caught up, she'd taken it out and handed it to Troy. Her face turned green suddenly, and she dry-heaved. Then she ran for the front door.
"Swirlie for my sister!" Debbie beamed. Troy quickly pointed out that she'd performed the task.
Now, Troy twirled the object, watching it turn to and fro. Then, he too put the Popsicle in his mouth and sucked on it. He took it out and it was significantly smaller.
"Yep, that's me!" He snidely remarked as he handed it to Debbie. I was beyond livid. This motherfucker and my wife had set this up. My own fucking wife, was all I could think. I glared at him, and he glared right back, almost as if begging me to say or do something. Instead, I gazed over at Emma. The look on her face told me the worst possible thing. She was beside herself waiting for me to take my turn.
Debbie, in her slutty fashion had done me a favor. What was left of the Popsicle wasn't even frozen. There was barely anything at all. In spite of the two love birds, I snapped and licked once at the remnants. It ended up dribbling down my chin instead of going into my mouth, and I quickly wiped it away. I handed the spent pop to Cathy, who examined it and then stood to toss it in the trash.
"That was disgusting!" she told us. "Gross." Then she called out the partially open door to Lana, saying it was her turn.
From outside we heard a grunted "pass."
I couldn't begin to explain my feelings right then. Anger, probably rage, was at the forefront - but confusion too. I couldn't process what was happening - what my wife was doing - right before me. There was a surreal feeling as well. Others - friends and co-workers and family - were all co-conspirators. They seemed so much less affected by what was going on. As if it truly was just a game. And then the paradox hit me like a ton of bricks. That was the beauty of it, for Troy at least. Who had actually set up whom?
Troy had already started dealing and I came back to my senses. I missed my chance to watch him shuffle. Of course, Troy dealt himself both aces - again.
"That's bullshit," I mumbled. Then I said it again, much louder. I could no longer hold back.
"What?" he said, looking at me. "You calling me a cheater?" His expression changed into darkness. His eyes were suddenly devoid of feeling. He stared at me, and then he turned towards Emma.
"Have sex with me - for three minutes." He said with a returning smirk.
Emma tried to hesitate, as if mulling it over, but everyone at the table, including me, knew what she wanted. It's pretty hard to be hesitant and giddy all at once.
"I... I, well, um, okay." She said. It was so phony. Her eyes met mine.
"Don't," was all I said - all I could say.
"I can't... I... the rules." She was immediately going to throw that in my face. I looked at Troy.
"Pick another dare." It was a demand.
He simply shrugged. "It's a game, Rob," he placated. "Just a game and we all agreed to play it, and to the rules, like Emma just said."
"No, we didn't," I yelled at him, leaning in his direction. He immediately stood. Then he went the long way around, behind my wife, and placed his hands on her shoulders.
"You two talk about it for a minute," he was addressing her, not me. "I'll wait over here. You know, Emily we all agreed to play. We all knew a dare like this could come up. That's why we set up the camera. So, it's either the best three minutes of your life or your face in the muck. It's a game to me so, either way."
I came out of my chair like a rocket when he said that, but Ron had expected it, and blocked my path to kill the prick. Cathy had her hands on me too, although not pulling me back.
"Move, asshole," I told Ron. He just stood there, with that look guys give each other; the one that says 'don't try it.'
Without any thought, I did try it. He was ready for that too. I was forcefully shoved back, but Cathy, being behind me, took the brunt, and landed on her ass. I got a second hard shove toward my chair and landed hard on it.
"STOP IT!" Emma screamed. Her gaze then directed to me. "I'm doing it, okay?! It's a game, Rob. Three fucking minutes, because I'm not getting my head stuck in a toilet. Stop acting so... childish."
That was the last straw. "Fine, Em," I said, resigned. "Consequences, Emma. You do what you gotta do, and I'll do what I gotta do." Emma had turned towards the living room even before I finished my sentence.
The truth was I didn't want to fight Ron, I wanted to fight Troy. But why? What kind of face was I saving when everyone in the room was seemingly on their side? Maybe some were just excited to see two people fuck. I wasn't going to watch, that was for sure.
Ron had helped Cathy up and apologized, never taking his eyes off me. He exchanged seats with his girlfriend and was now right next to me. I watched my wife, take Troy's hand as he led the way. Lana, maybe out of kindness or guilt had slid over to sit on my right. Debbie was right behind the lovebirds and turned the TV on.
On the screen, in great clarity, was our bedroom. Troy came in and pulled my wife into a full embrace, and then he kissed her. Emma kissed him back. He started lifting her top up and over her head, as they broke off. Emma stood back, with a wild look of lust in her eyes, as she unceremoniously started removing her tight jeans. Troy already had his pants around his ankles, sporting a fat boner.
He pulled her in again for another lover's kiss. I guess, he'd gotten this far, and he figured he might as well take a few other liberties while he was at it.
Lana reached for my hand, but I pulled away. Embarrassed at my rebuff, she looked away and quickly put her hands in her lap.
I wasn't going to stick around. I went to get up and felt Ron's paw on my forearm. "I'm leaving, you fuck," I told him as I yanked my arm away. Glancing at the TV, Troy had Emma on her back and was between her legs, working his dick into her... well now, his pussy. I'd never touch her again.
Ron stood with me and kept himself between me and the back of the house. I couldn't find my keys. They weren't in the kitchen or the living room. All three women just watched me as I floundered around. Then I remembered that I probably left them in the car. Going into the front closet, I took my jacket and then decided to grab the other two, my hat, gloves, and boots. I bundled everything into my arms, as I opened the front door, before turning towards the kitchen.
"All of you," I told them sternly, "can fuck off. I'll never speak to any of you again. Enjoy the show."
As I walked through the door, I heard my wife groan and then cry out, just as Troy said, "Here it comes, baby. Damn, that's good pussy."
I tossed everything in the back seat and found the keys in the ignition. As I fired it up, Cathy was climbing into the passenger seat. I started backing up before she had the door closed.
"Get out, bitch." I said, even as the car was backing into the street. I stopped, put the car in drive, and stared at her. She didn't look like she was going to budge. It didn't matter to me if she had to walk from wherever I ended up. I checked the rearview as I pulled out of our street towards the main road. There was no sign of Emma running after me.
"She loves you, you know," was how Cathy started.
I snorted. "Sure," I said.
"You know she does," she kept at it. "It was just a g..."
"How long?" I asked. She looked confused, both at the interruption and the question.
"What?" she answered.
"How long has your cousin been fucking Troy?" I asked again, looking at her instead of the road.
"Tonight was... is the first time, as far as I know." She didn't seem so sure suddenly.
I stopped the car. "Get out," I told her again.
Cathy wouldn't move. "You know more, don't you?" she asked, the light coming on. "Shit, you know he's been coming onto her." That was a statement.
"Yeah," I replied, "I saw them walking from his house last week. Ever since it's just one big bullshit story or excuse. I was going to have it out with her tonight. Then I come home and find him there. Everything else was just icing on the cake."
"I'm sorry, Rob," she said sincerely. "Damn, she's a dumb bitch. But she's my cousin, and I still think you two can work this out. You know, if you just leave her, it will be easier for him to move in on her, right?"
"So what?" I asked. "If that's how she is, or going to be, I can't stop her. I can't be around her all the time. I don't want a wife I have to constantly check up on. He can have her."
Cathy said nothing and looked sad. I arrived at the entrance to the park.
"Just go, Cathy," I demanded.
"She came out of her stupor. "You're... you're gonna make me walk back?" she asked incredulously. "Where are you going? Come back and talk to her - or at least come back tomorrow and talk to her."
I reached across her body and opened the door. Her mouth hung open. Then she finally got out.
"You're an asshole for making me walk back. Do you want me to tell her anything?"
"Just goodbye," I said. Then as an afterthought, "And tell Ron to watch his back. He's gonna get a beating if we cross paths." I knew it was immature. I had no chance against Ron, one-on-one, and both Cathy and I knew it. He was bigger in every way and worked construction fifty hours per week.
I turned right and headed for town, as Cathy just stood there watching me drive away. I needed to talk to someone. There was no family nearby, and my thoughts turned to Doug. I headed to his house, remembering all the alcohol I'd bought earlier and just left there. Troy and the band of traitors were probably mock-toasting me with it right then.
Doug answered his door and instantly knew something was terribly wrong. He headed down to his basement - a sort of man cave, shared by him and his father - and I followed. He grabbed two beers out of the old-fashioned Coke mini-fridge, and then went to the bar and poured me a full glass of whiskey.
As he handed both drinks to me, he said, "Okay, spill."
I told him everything that had happened earlier, and back to the previous Wednesday. To his credit, he let me tell my story and just listened.
"Damn," he said with a slight chuckle, "Did all of you really eat that fucker's splooge?"
"I tell you everything that's happening to me," I spat angrily, "and that's where you go?"
He didn't say anything for a minute. We just sat there. I was exhausted, and the whiskey felt good going down.
"Yeah, sorry," he finally replied. "And you say he even ate his own sperm? That's one twisted fuck." Doug paused. "Okay, seriously," he continued. "I didn't come tonight because I was worried something was going to happen. First, the two of you have been walking around in a fog ever since the holidays. Then, I saw her coming out of his house back at the end of January."
"And you didn't tell me?" I cried out. "Why?"
"Would you have believed me?" he answered. "I went over to borrow your belt sander, and my eye happened to catch that bright red coat she always wears. They were so into whatever they were talking about, she didn't even see me. I turned right at the next street, went around the block, and headed home. What was I going to say? Hey, Rob, by the way, saw your wife with another guy while you were at work."
I thought about that. "No," I said. "Probably not, but you could have given me a heads up, so I could keep my eye on her."
"Ah," he responded quickly. "But that's the thing, isn't it? Look, if I was a really good friend, I would have warned you before you married her." He stopped to let that sink in.
"You two aren't compatible, Rob." He stopped again and took a swig. "She's a box of fireworks. She's adventurous, outgoing, and wants a lot of things. She's a 'see-the-world' kind of gal, climb every mountain type shit.
"And you," he paused once more, "you're straight-laced... I don't mean disrespect. You know what you want too. Maybe more down-to-earth, kind of realist... I don't know. You're not into adventure. You know what you want, and it's pretty simple. You don't run off half-cocked. You're perfectly happy to come home from work to a good wife and cuddle up watching TV. Shit, you weren't even comfortable when we first started having these parties. I could tell."
He was right. I couldn't fathom why I hadn't seen something that simple. The phone had rung twice while he was talking, and his mother, Helen, opened the basement door and shouted down, "Phone for you, Doug."
We both looked at each other, guessing who was calling this time of night.
He picked up the handset. "Yeah," he said indifferently. "Yeah. So what? Listen, I don't want to talk to you, and I'm sure he doesn't either. How could you do that to your husband, you bitch?"
He covered the mouthpiece. "You want to talk to her? Maybe just so she leaves you to your whiskey, and a little peace and quiet?"
I took the phone. "What do you want?" I barked, but not so loud that Doug's mom could hear.
"Rob, I'm sorry," she cried into the phone. "Come home. Come home, so we can talk."
"No." was my brilliant answer.
"Please, Rob." She was sniffling but sounded less broken up about the end of her marriage than I expected. "Everyone's gone, and I want to... talk about what happened. Or make it up to you."
"Yeah, Emma," I spat indignantly. "Now you're sorry. Now you want to talk. It's a little late for that."
I heard what sounded like whispering in the background. "And why are you lying to me? He's right there with you now. I can hear him!"
I slammed the receiver into its cradle. Doug just looked at me with pity, as we sipped our drinks. My whiskey was nearly empty, and I wasn't going to end up cradling a toilet in my friend's bathroom. Doug's mom, Helen, came down the stairs tentatively, with 2 coffee cups and a carafe. She didn't want me hogging her bathroom either.
"Thanks, Mrs. E." I said. Doug's last name was Everson.
"You're welcome," she replied with a sad smile. "And you're a grown man, Rob. Please call me Helen. Your voices were pretty loud, so I heard. I'm so sorry."
Just then the phone rang again, and with a small sigh, Helen headed back upstairs. Doug answered it, without saying a word. "It's for you," he said handing me the receiver.
"What?" I said quietly.
"Please come home," she pleaded. "He's gone. Everyone's gone."
"No," I responded. "I can't be around you now. I'll never sleep in that bed again. Just answer me one question. "How long have you been planning this?"
"I... we..." she stammered. That was it. No matter her answer, it was finally dawning on her where I stood. I waited a bit, while she collected her thoughts.
"You might as well invite him back, Emma," I told her. "I'll be in touch at some point." I went to put the phone in its cradle, but Doug quickly took it from me and gently set it down.
Sleep came in fits that night. Before leaving for work, I stopped at our bank. We had a total of $1137.00 in our combined checking and saving. I took half in cash. There wasn't anything else to split. Her dad helped us with the house, so he could keep the proceeds.
Lance was in the office when I arrived. His look told me I had problems.
He asked me to sit and shut the door.
"Rob," he started, "I've already heard too many rumors about last night's... activities. I'm not going to judge, but I can tell you, I will not support or encourage anything you and the others are doing. This is a family business, with family values." He stopped to let me absorb.
"That said," he continued, "based on some of the things I've heard this morning, I have a proposition for you; a way to keep your job and put a little distance between you and your current... situation.
"Our Assistant Manager in Flint quit with no notice two days ago. If you want it, the job is yours. You'll need to report to Russ tomorrow afternoon, at the latest. We'll provide you with lodging expenses for two weeks, at the hotel adjacent to the restaurant. We'll offer some relocation funds to help you get settled. It's a one-time offer."
I immediately accepted. I'd work a half day that day, then go and get myself sorted and head up the next day. As I was counting out the morning shift cash boxes, Debbie stepped tentatively into the office.
"Can I talk to you please?" she asked biting her upper lip.
"Sure, give me a minute. I'll meet you out back." The employee smoking area was just outside the back door. I smoked a little, and Deb was a damned chimney. When I went out she handed me a cig and fired hers' up.
"She loves you, you know." She said it on the exhale.
"No I don't," I answered, "and she sure has a fucked up way of showing it."
"She made a mistake," Debbie tried to smooth it over. "And it was just a game."
"Uh-huh." Was all I could bring myself to say. "Either all of you are crazy, or you think I am."
"We can make it even," she said pretending to be hopeful. "You and me - how about it?"
"Not with my worst enemy's dick," I said.
"Your loss, Rob. I'd never offer myself to such a 'goodie-two-shoes.' I'm only doing it for her. So you know, I told her... warned her, not to get married to you. The last thing she needed was some archaic marriage trap. This is the 1970s - 'we are women, hear us roar.' Plus, Troy has plenty more to offer. I've fucked him three times already. That doesn't count helping him make a yummy cum popsicle.
"Anyway," she concluded, "see you around loser. My sister and I are quitting today if they're gonna promote someone like you to be our boss." Debbie obviously didn't know about Flint. She tossed her cigarette on the ground and twisted her shoe over it.
I left and went to my... well, what had been my home. Emma wasn't there and neither was her car. I guess she'd missed her ride with Brian. It took me less than two hours to pack everything I owned into my car. I still had room for a passenger or two. I did look around for the video of Troy with my wife, thinking I might need it if they caused me any trouble, but all the equipment and the tape were gone.
I thought about leaving my ring as a symbolic gesture, but I'd paid for both hers and mine, so I might as well try to get some of the money back. In the end, I didn't even leave a note. She'd get the message. I left directly for Flint and a new life right then, deciding there was no need to prolong an extra day.
Two days into my new job and I got a call from Brian. Two of our main cooks had left in some sort of solidarity with my predecessor. Brian was heading up for a few days, to help train a few new hires. He asked if we could grab a beer after the shift.
"I saw them, one day," he told me as the server brought our beers.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I wanted to know. "It would have helped if I could have stopped it early."
"No," he replied sadly. "I don't think it would have. Where Darla and I are concerned, Emma is a fast and easy kind of gal. She's always gonna crave a fast and easy life. The things she told me on those drives to and from work, helped me make my decision to let you find out on your own. If it hadn't been Troy, it would have eventually been someone just like him. She needs a guy like that without ties, so she can be free to explore and expand. Those were her words, by the way."
"So, what's she saying at work?" I asked, not sure why.
"She's telling everyone you two needed a break from your marriage, and that you'll return from Flint when the work is done."
"She's delusional," I laughed.
"Yes, she is," he agreed. "I've also seen her at his house a few times. Sorry man."
I'd been at my new job for a week before the calls started.
"When are you coming home?" she'd start.
"How many nights have you spent with him?" I'd reply with a question, and then hang up before she could start with her excuses.
It was three weeks to the day from that party when Lance walked into the back door of the restaurant. The office was right next to that door, and I was in it. I knew he was coming because he had to sign some papers at city hall, regarding our upcoming remodel.
"Hey, Rob," his tone was downcast. "You need to talk to her." Before I could say anything, he moved to his left, and there was Emma.
"Go sit in the bar since it doesn't open until eleven," he demanded. "If it turns into a screaming match, take it outside to your car."
Emma and I sat in the dark, with only the emergency lighting illuminating us. I raised my eyebrow to give her the floor. My soon-to-be ex-wife took a few deep breaths.
"You're not coming home are you?" she asked as if already knowing the answer.
"You know I'm not."
"Okay," she sighed. "I'm moving to Las Vegas." She just left it there.
"With him?" was my next question.
"Um-hum," she replied without looking at me. Then looking up, she added, "You need to do something about the house."
"It isn't mine," I said. "Give it back to your dad. We're on the hook for two grand and there's no equity in it." She nodded, and then asked, "Do you hate me that much?" What an odd question, I thought.
"Well, I certainly don't love you, or even like you," I said snidely. "Have fun in Vegas, Emma. I need to get back to work. You can wait in here for Lance."
She didn't say another word. I went back to my office and was suddenly overcome. Quickly, I shut the door and bawled like a baby. I guess I lied about not loving her. I couldn't square being so angry with her, and then just like that, turn into a blubbering, sobbing idiot. I'd be a lot older before someone explained it to me.
Epilogue:
I never saw Emma again.
Cathy and I ran into each other nine months later on one of my many trips south. Emma's father had given the house to Ron and Cathy. I'd signed the papers right away, and I'd also signed the divorce papers that Troy had helped Emma complete. Cathy told me about that.
She also told me that Troy had abandoned Emma in Las Vegas, only three months after they moved there. He was employed as a limo driver, which was how he met the stripper he hooked up with. Emma, without an income stream, became an escort for the high-rollers.
Emma, or at least our relationship, was an enigma to me for quite some time. I couldn't understand what I considered a strong, mutual love turning so sour, that fast. As I recounted the story over the next few years, it became clear that most of it was on me. I let my little head drive my decision on starting a marriage. I wore blinders during the relationship too. Most people I told the story to laughed when I got to the part about the twins and the hand job. It was like I'd just given away the ending to a decent movie. It also spoke volumes as to how blind I'd been. When people saw the embarrassment on my face, they'd always say something like, "It's okay, you're still young."
They never really meant it that way.
The following year, after Emma and I split, Doug called me two weeks before Christmas.
"Dude, we finally got him!" he exclaimed, a little winded. "He's back in Michigan. We saw him at the mall!" Doug was present shopping with three friends, when Troy walked right past them. Doug saw the golden opportunity. He went and found his brother. Convenient for everyone, Doug's brother was a security guard at said mall. The foursome followed Troy for a while until he went into a men's room, and Doug's brother locked the door from the outside.
"It's a damned good thing you didn't go at him that night of the party," he told me. "That fucker is some kind of Jujitsu expert. Four of us almost got our asses kicked until two of us decided to rush him at the same time."
Once on the ground, Troy was no match for the party of four. Doug said he leaned over the bastard as he held his junk with both hands, and told him, "That's for Rob and Emma."
I met Rachel, and we've been together for twenty-two years. Like Emma, she hasn't ever pulled punches. What I've always gotten from her, whenever she's within earshot of my tale of woe, is, "You big dummy. At least you're still young... at heart!" She's so sweet!
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