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For the Greater Good
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I arrived home from my brother's house, with Ashley only twenty minutes behind. She gave me a forlorn look as she came to find me sitting in the living room. There'd be plenty of time for our conversation in the morning, and I wanted to have a level head and a bit more time to consider how to approach her.
"Ashley," I said. "Our talk will need to wait until tomorrow. I'm too tired to get into this now."
She seemed relieved. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "Should we say nine-thirty?"
I nodded as I stood. Ashley came in for a hug, which I allowed. Mine wasn't as enthusiastic as hers and I'm sure she felt it. We walked up the stairs together, but when she turned towards our master suite, I went the other way into the guest room and closed the door.
I hadn't thought about doing that until I was sitting at my brother's house, lost in my head. Since Ashley had gotten such a late start home from her apartment at RCA, I decided that sleeping alone would be best. I wasn't going to have sex with her no matter what, but if my wife had been with Beltran or anyone else that morning, I certainly didn't want to sleep in the same bed.
There was no lock on the door. Either Ashley felt defeated, or hurt, or she realized that it would be counterproductive to make a big deal about it just then.
A good night's rest was not in the cards for me. I tossed and turned for at least two hours, anticipating my conversation with my wife, and how I was going to handle it. I came to no earth-shattering conclusions, other than one. Ashley was highly likely to make some sort of presentation in the morning. Some sort of production was more like it. But this wasn't a dissertation or some science conference. It was personal, and as such I wasn't going to allow her to make a mockery out of me or our six-year marriage. I would try my best to set the pace, while still allowing her plenty of space to explain - or hang - herself.
I finally dozed off, but restlessly. I was awake and out of bed by six-thirty, with only four good hours of sleep to show for it. I showered in the guest bathroom and headed down for coffee. I heard my wife moving around by seven, but she didn't come down until nine-twenty. I felt sure she'd prepared exactly as I'd surmised.
The thing was, I'd had three weeks of almost nothing but time to prepare. I knew what questions I needed answered. I knew that even after hearing those answers, I'd still need a lot of time to consider the impact. I knew that I'd have to interrupt her in order to get what I needed. I had absolutely no idea if I could stay with her or not. That would take time for me to mull over. I'd never been as decisive as my wife. I had to make 'pro' and 'con' lists even to solve work problems.
Ashley looked fearful for the first time since I'd met her. She was haggard too. I had been thinking back to the time when I was thirteen and had broken my mother's favorite vase. It was baseball season, and my last year in Little League. If I was going to be grounded, I'd miss out. I could remember, considering all the different options, which included blaming Tom. In the end, I came to realize that telling the truth and begging for mercy was the right answer. Ashley looked like she was smack dab in the middle of a similar situation. I hoped she didn't sneak out last night to have Chad help un-stick her.
"What you did last night was hurtful," she started. I hoped she wasn't going to play offense right out of the gate, but at least she provided me with a big opportunity without knowing it.
"Well," I replied unemotionally, "there was plenty of good reason, but I'll talk about that later."
I set a cup of coffee in front of her as she sat down, then I took a seat on the other end of the table. I immediately realized I was giving her power by treating it like a business meeting. It wasn't. I moved just as quickly to the chair beside her. Ashley mistakenly took that as a good sign.
"I want to apologize," she began. "First and foremost for my behavior at RCA. I know I've hurt you terribly..."
"Just so I'm on the same page, Ashley," I interrupted. "What exactly are you apologizing for?"
"You know what..." she was going to continue, but she saw my expression change and thought better of it. "For my behavior with Chad Beltran," she said quietly.
"And again, so I'm clear," I asked, then changed my tactic. "Just say it, for Christ's sake, Ashley. It's your confession and your dime, so let's not start out trying to sugar-coat it."
She looked stricken. Then her expression changed to one of determination. "For having sex with Chad," she said, then after a pause, "...four times."
"All right, continue," I told her sipping my coffee. I was already quite pleased with how the conversation was progressing. We were at the very beginning though.
"When I first got stuck, I tried with everything I had in me to work it out," she continued. "But I couldn't, and after two full days, the clock was ticking. I didn't think. I just needed to be unstuck. You know me well enough by now."
"Why?" I asked while she was taking her next big breath. "Why didn't you think, about me - about us? That's important, Ashley. It makes me wonder if you'll get to that point in the future, and I won't be thought of. It certainly makes me wonder if it's happened in the past."
"No!" she half-screamed. "I've never..." she realized as she said it. "I know I can't prove that now, but I swear to you on my life." She was also starting to understand this wasn't some dissertation or presentation. She didn't have the mic. I was going to keep asking questions.
"Kurt," she began again when I remained silent. "I swear I'll never do anything like that again. If I'd had my phone turned on that day, I'm sure I would have thought of you. I would have asked you to drive up to RCA."
"But then you lied to me," I said, getting pissed. "When we talked on the phone."
"No, Kurt!" she was getting more frantic by the minute. I'd never seen her like that before. "I simply didn't tell you everything. After Chad and me... I was unstuck within two hours, and we were all back to work."
"And what about the other times?" I knew that would need to be my last question for a bit, or the conversation was going to turn for the worse.
"I don't know," she looked down. "I've thought about that. I think in my mind, that since Chad had already volunteered once, well, it wouldn't make any difference. I know how stupid that sounds now, but we were all working so hard on the challenges to find a cure."
"Volunteered, did he?" I asked just before getting up to use the restroom. "Was there a waiting list?"
Ashley blushed crimson. "No."
"Wait a minute," I was turning red for another reason. "How many people know about this?"
I needed a minute. I told her not to answer until I returned. My wife was completely frazzled. As I splashed some cold water on my face, it dawned on me that I'd gotten most of what I wanted. It would probably be to my benefit to let her tell her story and ask questions afterward, lest she blew a gasket.
I returned to a woman crying. More coffee wouldn't settle me, but it was too early for alcohol. I asked my wife if she wanted another cup and she nodded. Finally, I sat back down, calmly and waited for her to answer the question I'd left hanging.
"Once I realized I couldn't solve the problem," she began again, "I gathered the group. I told them about my idiosyncrasy and asked if anyone could help. It was one of the most embarrassing things I've ever done."
I wanted to ask the obvious right then, but let it go.
"I figured Chad might step up," she said. "But it took him longer than I expected. He'd flirted quite a bit when I first arrived at RCA, but I guess flirting was one thing, while sex was another. He has a wife and child he loves at home.
"Anyway," she went on. "He finally offered in a small voice. I think he was embarrassed too. So, everyone on the team knows, and two receptionists as well. John gave them instructions, so I don't know exactly what they know, but I'm sure it's enough."
"And that was to keep me from finding out, right?" I asked snidely, breaking my promise to myself.
"Yes," she nodded, again looking down. "Once I was unstuck, I realized what I'd done. I was determined not to hurt you, so I left out the doggy sex when we talked. Chad was worried about how it might look if we were found out - doing it more than once - but I told him we'd be discreet, and that since he'd gotten the job done, I didn't want to ask one of the others to step in. I got stuck three more times... as you know."
I didn't know but now wasn't the time. She took a sip of her coffee. "I knew something was wrong the night after when we spoke. Then, when you brought Tom up and just left without a word, I was very worried, so I called you. You told me you were sick, and I didn't believe you."
"Imagine that." I nearly spat at her. Then I waved for her to continue.
"Yesterday morning, John and Chad helped me pack my apartment. After we were done, John asked us to come back inside so he could talk to us. When he told me that you'd been there, that you'd - seen us - my heart broke for you. John and Chad could see my angst and then John started with all the questions.
"What kind of man you were," she continued. "How I saw my return home going. What were the chances you'd be understanding or at least willing to work through what happened? I started crying, realizing that I probably ruined our marriage. I saved your brother and many others, but I wasn't sure that you'd forgive me."
I only harrumphed at her. The silence was so thick in that room. If she was trying to figure out how to fix things, she was failing miserably. Something must have crossed her mind, because she began to cry and left into the bathroom. I sat down hard in my chair. There was no way forward that I could see. I was lost, as was what we'd had. I thought about my family and my brother. I thought about the treachery, the betrayal, and the fact that somehow, I'd probably be expected to forgive it. Thinking about that right now would only bring self-pity and deprecation.
Realization at that moment brought a glimmer of clarity. If nothing else, I needed time. Time to think. Ashley had the bigger brain, and that made her the bigger bear, at least at thinking things through. I didn't want her influencing me. Constantly pushing and driving me to some reconciliation. I was pretty sure, she'd be too embarrassed to discuss any of this with my family.
Ashley returned to her seat without a word. She sipped her cold coffee, then looked up at me, her eyes pleading for... something.
"Where do we stand, Kurt?" she asked in such a melancholy tone, I almost told her we were done.
"I don't know," I told her, matching her tone as best I could. "But I still have questions for you."
She nodded, rose, and took my cup to refill both, before returning to her chair.
"You say four times," I began. "But I'm wondering and I want the truth, or we're finished - it seems to me that all that you've said about yesterday morning would have been accomplished much sooner than noon. Did you give that asshole a farewell fuck - you know for all his special help?"
Ashley stared at me, aghast. Then her shoulders slumped as if there was no good answer. "No," she said, quietly, sadly. "Once he understood the implications as John had laid them out, he got freaked and left with barely a good-bye."
"So, you were planning to fuck then," I accused her. "If not for John's... revelations?"
Once again, my eternally over-confident wife looked stricken. "No, Kurt." She looked like she might puke. "That was never a plan. It was only for the science. I... "
"Bullshit!" I shouted, unaware of how fast my rage could manifest. "Stop trying to take the easy way out, Ashley!" She shut up and looked away. None of this was going the way she wanted.
"You're going to need to leave," her head swiveled back quickly, and she started to speak. I waved her off, as I kept talking. "I want you to go stay with Tom and Melinda. For a week, maybe two." Again she wanted to say something.
"I need time," I said quieter then. "I need to think - to assess. Surely you understand that. I have no idea right now where we stand, or what I want. I know as a kneejerk, I want out of the marriage, but I know the price for that will be my relationship with my family. At least in the short-term."
She was thinking again. She was always thinking.
"I'll agree to that," she began. "But with some conditions."
Ashley was bargaining whereas she had nothing to bargain with. She realized her mistake instantly.
"I didn't mean it like that," she said apologetically. "I love you, Kurt. I want to grow old with you. I know I fucked up. I know you're incredibly hurt. I'm also sure I have plenty to make up for, and that it will take time. I just don't want us not to talk. So, I'll go, I'll even make up a good excuse, as long as we talk every night. You being trapped here in the house, inside your own head with all that pain, will surely be the end of us."
"I suppose," I said, but was thinking if her idea was sound or not.
"And," she continued, "I want you to tell me now what you're feeling, so I know. You've asked questions, but you've said nothing about your feelings. That worries me. Talk to me - then I'll leave. I'll leave you to your thoughts."
That stirred me - spurned me on. The bitch! She wanted to know - all right, then!
"I don't believe you," I said, trying to keep my volume down, but having a hard time. "About yesterday morning, for one, and I'm not sure we can ever get the trust back. I think Beltran was far better than you want to admit to me because otherwise, I don't think you'd have continued on with him. I know you well enough after all this time. You completely forgot about me - as a man, as your husband - for at least three weeks. You had him, and if I'm guessing right, he was very good, not just for getting you unstuck. That's why you kept it from me. It was at least good enough for you to make a conscious choice to seek forgiveness rather than permission. Or you wanted it to remain secret, effectively so you wouldn't need either."
She wanted to interrupt, I could tell, but she knew she needed to get all of it out of my brain and my heart, by way of my lips.
"You've humiliated me, Ash," I stated with venom. "My poor husband, Kurt, he's a decent guy and all, but he isn't here. So, if you could all keep his cuckolding a secret, we can get busy curing cancer.
"Then there's the fact that you went back to the well, three more times." I was on a roll and it was cathartic. "I don't see that as an idiosyncrasy. There you are, with all your big-brained Ph.D. types, All of you, with your God complexes. There's Beltran, getting to fuck a hot married woman - all in the name of science. Everyone else, sneering and chuckling about the dirty little secret. I'll never go to any function with you, ever again, if we stay together, Ashley. I'd never be able to tolerate the humiliation and disrespect. Then there's the two of you. It was four times, at least. So even if you didn't have sex - real sex, with him yesterday, it's clear he's the better man in your eyes. Maybe he got scared. Maybe he's worried about his wife and kid, but that's only temporary in my mind. He's had the forbidden fruit. He's not thinking about science, only all the other things he wants to do with you. If there are no consequences for him, he'll be back, sniffing around. And it doesn't matter if you tell him no, threaten to tell his wife. Eventually, you'll end up in bed with him, because you already chose him."
Ashley had that look again. Almost like she didn't know me. Maybe, like she never expected me to think so deeply as if she had the market cornered in that regard.
"On top of the trust, and disrespect," I went on. "There are the images. I can't get them out of my head. They're there at night, too. For almost three weeks now. I can't unsee that, Ashley. And I can't begin to imagine how I get past that."
Ashley was playing with her hair, a nervous habit I'd come to learn well through the years. She was deep in thought, swirling her coffee in the cup. I left her to it.
"Kurt," she finally said, looking me in the eye. "What you said - it's not accurate - however, I can see why you think it, and you're justified. I've hurt you deeply. Maybe beyond repair, but I don't love him. I'm not infatuated with him. I had no feelings for him at all. I just lost my way. Believe me, I know how stupid and hollow that sounds, but it's true.
"As I said," she continued, "I've hurt you. I've broken trust, and yes, I understand what you meant about respect as well. I think I'd feel the same if things were reversed. The fact remains that I love you. I don't know how, but I'll discover a way back for us. I'll do whatever it..."
"That's another thing," I cut her off. "You're looking at this like a project. It isn't. You cheated - four times, at least. You want to make it up to me. If you keep treating it as a science problem, as an equation, you're not going to be successful. That I promise you."
"Please, Kurt," she glossed over what I'd just said. "Stop saying 'at least.' I promise I'm not lying about that."
"Well," I told her. "Therein lies part of the real issue. You put me on a shelf for three weeks. That's how I see it. You had your multiple sessions with that asshole, and he'll be back to finish what you two started, or eventually, you'll seek him out. Right now, Ashley, that is my reality. You'll have to prove me wrong, and that isn't going to happen through some dissertation.
"You'll have to prove me wrong, before we can go any further, with any kind of reconciliation." I had but that one opportunity before she left, to give her a glimpse of the task at hand. "I don't know how you'll accomplish that, but it's all on you. If you can't, we'll be headed for divorce. If you tell anyone in my family, and humiliate me further, then it's also divorce. At least we don't have kids. You can get a new place, and I'll stay in the house until we can sell it."
She had a look on her face like, this is my house too, but she wisely held her tongue. She seemed stunned that the last part of our conversation was already planning who'd get what.
"All right, Kurt," she resigned herself. "What time shall we talk each night?" I told her to text me later.
Ashley packed some clothes. She already had her toiletries in her other bag. In an hour, she kissed me on the cheek, apologized again, and left.
The next evening, when we talked, I asked her about her sessions with Beltran. I'd already seen with my own eyes, of course. What I wanted her to conclude on her own, was the fact she's fucked him four times, at least, without protection. She almost got there.
"Ashley," I said with frustration. "Did he wear a condom? Did he come in you?"
I'm sure if I could see her face, it would have looked incredulous, as if, 'Well, yeah, of course he did.'
In the silence, I decided if I had to spell it out for her, then we were going backward and certainly were headed for a worse time. She surprised me.
"I get it," she said softly. "You want me tested."
"Not quite," I said, matching her tone. "You should want to be tested. Maybe even thinking about whether you missed any of your birth control. Even if we try to work this out, and if I can get the images out of my head, I won't sleep with you, until you show me a clean bill of health."
That put a sour note on our talk, and with little left to say, we bid each other good night.
The next two nights were equally depressing. Ashley was slowly concluding how much we'd have to overcome as a couple. I wondered, during those two days and nights, if she was secretly thinking it might be best to cut our losses now. I wondered because I was thinking about it, too.
The fourth night she asked if we could go out for coffee the following night, a Friday, and talk face-to-face. Besides the obvious, she thought our family was becoming increasingly suspicious about why we weren't together. I told her we could, and very little was discussed or accomplished.
Ashley was telling the truth because the next day, my sister Jill showed up at my work, just before lunch.
"Come on, little bro," she ordered me. "We're going to lunch."
Jill got straight to it, as soon as we ordered. "Okay, Kurt," she said forcefully, "what gives? Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about." Just like my sister - to go straight for the jugular. I literally laughed at her, which earned me the stink face.
"It's between Ashley and me," I told her, trying to be stern. "It's personal. I can't tell you about it right now. That wouldn't be fair to Ashley."
Jill thought for a second, and then the light came on. "She did something to you," her voice was excited and louder. I put my finger to my lips. "She hurt you somehow - while she was at the lab." It was all coming together then. "Holy fuck!" the volume was back, then quieter, she followed, "She cheated on you, didn't she?"
My non-answer spurred her on. "Son-of-a-bitch," she whispered that part, "what are you going to do Kurt? Are you thinking about divorce? Oh my God! Our family is going to be so... they're going to take her side! You know that, right?"
"Settle down, Jill," I told her. "Nothing's been decided on that front. We're talking."
"What did she do?" My sister spat. She was pissed now. "Why is she living with Tom and Melinda?"
"Jill, please," I said. "One thing at a time. Yes, she was unfaithful. That's all I will say. You need to ask her for the specifics. Yes, we are trying to work it out, but there's plenty to get past. Plenty. I won't comment on that either. It's private. Yes, I understand that my own family may indeed take her side. She's their superhero right now. I won't let that affect my decision though."
The food came, and Jill ate with me mostly in silence. She was contemplating her best attempt to help her brother - what to say - what advice to give. Every time she seemed to have it worked out, She came up short and went back to thinking about things.
At the end of our meal, I looked hard at my sibling. "Please, Jill, don't tell anyone in the family. You guessed so you can talk to Ashley, but no one else. I need your word."
Jill gave her word and a long sisterly hug. She kept the look of pity as hidden as possible. She made me promise to call or text her if I needed anything.
Later that evening, I met a frazzled-looking Ashley for coffee. She looked up as I approached, and anger crossed her normally pretty face.
"Why did you tell Jill?" she was starting on offense. "She's adamant about us going for a 'long drive' tomorrow."
"I didn't," I said and shrugged at the same time. "She figured it out. I told her only the basics and made her promise not to say a word to anyone."
My wife's expression changed quickly again. "I'm sorry, Kurt. That's not how I wanted to start our talk."
It was quiet for a minute. Then Ashley took a deep breath. "How are you feeling, Kurt? Do you think there is any hope for us?" She must have been taking cues from Jill. "I've been totally immersed in thoughts about us, but I'm nowhere. It's been the worst week of my life."
"The worst three of mine," I mumbled, wanting to lash out, but trying at least to be civil. Ashley picked up on it right away and changed the subject.
"What are we going to do?" she asked sincerely, hopelessly. "How can we fix this?"
"Well, certainly, not academically," I retorted. "You know with logic and reason."
That got my wife chuckling. "Funny. The thing is I have three complex Gant charts going and none provided anything resembling an answer. I almost called you to get me unstuck, until I remembered, you were the subject matter." She was thoughtful for a second, and then she reached over and took my hand.
"I'm so very sorry," she told me softly. "I haven't said that properly. I'm sorry for all the hurt and pain I've caused you. For how much damage I've done to us. And the worst... I don't... I don't have even the faintest idea how to fix it."
She lost it and put her head on the table, perhaps hoping to avoid a few stares. It didn't work. On instinct, I went around her side of the booth and held her. I held her until I remembered what she'd done. I slowly released her, and I know she felt that too, which brought on more sobs.
"Come on, Ashley," I said soothingly, "let's go for a walk and have some privacy."
We walked two blocks down by the river. The sun was beginning to set. "So," I started trying to lighten the mood. "No breakthroughs, even with the charts?"
"No," she gave a wan smile.
"Well, I'm no better," I said. "But maybe I can help you out a bit with what's been weighing heaviest on my mind and heart." She perked up and looked at me as we walked.
"For me," I continued, "the biggest issue we have is trust. You could have lied, or lied by omission, even though I think you know that wasn't what you did, about almost anything, and had gotten the same result. You lost my trust. Respect, mine for you, and the perceived respect I thought you had for me, both took a big hit. But you didn't lie to me about going dining and dancing with Beltran. You didn't play strip poker with your bunkmates. You didn't smash the car, take it to a repair shop, and then I find out when we go to sell it later. All those things would have caused the same mistrust.
"But you broke vows," I went on. "And then you lied about it, even if trying to spare my hurt feelings by giving me half the story. It's the same as the other examples, but it's magnified. So, Ashley, how can you rebuild trust with a person who no longer trusts you?"
"I've thought about that," she replied. "A lot, actually. I think I know how to do that, but it will take time and more importantly a joint commitment. At some point, I'm going to be away for possibly prolonged periods. I want to give you access to all my devices and put a tracker on my phone."
I was shocked. First, I never thought about the fact that the person who 'cured cancer' would be on the road, her time between other labs, and the media, in high demand. Second, because she had the idea that a husband would want a wife he constantly had to track. If that was the best one of the biggest brains ever could come up with, we were surely doomed.
"I'm supposed to... what?" I asked incredulously. "Track you like an FBI agent? You do realize how ridiculous and unappealing that sounds, right?"
Ashley dropped her head. "I dunno," she exclaimed. "It's the best I could come up with. Kurt, I'm not stupid. It may seem that way to you now, but I've run the numbers. I spent the last three days trying to put myself in your shoes, and when I did, I became hopeless. In honesty, we'd already be separated, working towards divorce. I'd be in a rage, and unable to think clearly. I'd be so damned angry, no, furious with you. I can't see a way back unless you give me grace, and a chance to prove myself. I'm willing to earn it, for as long as it takes and no matter how much you rebuke me. I deserve it all, and I'll take it, without complaint, until you tell me there's no longer any point. That's the best I have."
We left it there, and I promised to consider what she'd said - about what she'd offered. The truth was, I knew she was trying her best. We hadn't even gotten to the worst part yet - my visions.
The next morning, Saturday, my cell phone rang early. I didn't recognize the number, and usually wouldn't answer, but I'd spent the week in a haze, and worried I may have overlooked a customer.
"Kurt," the male voice began. "Please don't hang up. I need to speak with you. This is Doctor... sorry, Chad Beltran." I was stunned. "Kurt, are you still there?" he asked worriedly.
"Yeah," I said as I exhaled. "What do you want?"
"Kurt," he stumbled. "I wanted to tell you personally, that I'm very sorry for my part in the problems you and Ashely are having." Now I knew how he got my number.
"You don't know the problems we're having," I told him sternly. "So, exactly what are you apologizing for?"
"Well... I think," he started after a long pause. He was sure a smug bastard, I'd give him that. "I mean, the problems resulting from what happened at RCA."
"How do you know, Beltran?" I asked right away. "You spoke to Ashley, didn't you?"
There was another long pause. "Yes," he was failing miserably. "I text her to see how things were at ho... were going. I felt compelled to talk to you personally."
"Yes," I said, "you've said that twice. So, why aren't you standing in front of me? Isn't the phone pretty un-personal?" He wouldn't answer at first.
"Kurt," he said with a heavy sigh, "I'm sure you'd love to have me standing in front of you. What I did, I did for science. If punching me or decking me, would help you, I'm glad to do it. You name the place and time. If that's what it takes for you and Ashley to stay together, so be it."
The guy was pissing me off even more than I already was. The fact he and Ashley were in communication, made it ten times worse.
"Listen to me, asshole," I told him. "Just stay out of it. You want to help, promise me right now, you'll never speak to my wife again. Don't call her. Don't text her. Don't ever contact her again, understand?"
The uneasy silence was palpable. "I... I can't promise that, Kurt. The entire team from RCA is up for several grants. There's a possibility we could work together again. Several other cancer research facilities have already asked us to join them. I can't say for sure, but it's possible."
"Okay, Beltran," I was getting more pissed by the second. "Why did you call - exactly? Surely you can do better than some half-assed apology. And I don't think you're sorry, to begin with. Remember, I saw you fucking my wife with my own eyes."
"All right!" he cried out. "Maybe I'm not. There. I'm being honest. I also have a wife at home and a small child. I love them more than anything. I suppose you're right about the half-assed apology. I enjoyed our brief encounters as much as she... I enjoyed them. I know you're pissed. I don't want to lose my family over this. It would kill me."
"And have you told your loving wife yet?" I spat the question, in my rage. "How is she handling the revelation? Is she considering getting even? I could help her with that. It would only be fair, don't you think?" I only said that to rattle him, I wanted nothing to do with his wife.
"I'm sorry, Kurt," he said very quietly. "Please don't tell her." He ended the call.
I was tempted to call Ashley and go off on her. To let her know, the little scheme didn't work. That wouldn't help anything. On the very day after she begged for a chance to prove I could trust her, she'd already bit the dust. I'm glad I didn't. Not five minutes later, my phone dinged again. This time it was John Paxton.
"What can I do for you, John?" I asked with an edge in my voice. "Calling because Beltran's attempt failed so miserably?"
There was a pause. It seemed to be contagious, these days. "I don't understand, Kurt." He said, seemingly bewildered. "What are you saying?"
"Beltran just called me," I answered. "Cut the crap, John."
"Chad Beltran just called you?" It was a question, but he didn't form it that way. "I'm sorry, Kurt. He shouldn't have done that."
"What can I do for you, John?" My rage with these people was returning.
"I'm calling for several reasons," he stated, more businesslike. "The first is to say how sorry..."
"Stop it!" I shouted. "I'm sick of everyone and their hollow apologies. You aren't helping anyone."
"Okay, Kurt," he said, unmoved. "I understand. Specifically, I wanted to see how things between you and Ashley are."
"Not your business," I said angrily.
"That's fair," he returned. "I asked because I'm looking to see how or if I can help. I'm prepared to do that if it's something you want."
"How could you help?" I couldn't believe I'd even asked. "You helped cause it."
"That's true," he was quick to point out. "I regret that, very much. I'll say in the onset, if my wife ever behaved as Ashley did, the divorce would be in progress before she even returned home. I saw what seeing them did to you that day. I gave you those keys against my better judgment - against my human judgment. Every day until Tom arrived, and accepted the drugs, I feared that the program was toast."
He stopped there, perhaps to let his words sink in. "Go on," I told him.
"You took no immediate action," he said, "so I breathed a sigh of relief. Your brother's system accepted the treatment, and we lined up nine other trials for similar patients. I knew there would be trouble, especially when Ashley went home. That's why I decided to tell them on the last morning before they left."
"I'm not entirely sure your strategy worked," I said as if it didn't matter. "And I suppose now, you're pleading for my silence or some sort of reconciliation?"
"Not exactly," he returned. "The other nine responded exactly like your brother. I'm ninety percent sure this drug, and Ashley's delivery system will survive FDA scrutiny, and be available in less than six months - a year tops. That will affect thousands if not hundreds of thousands of people worldwide."
"And you want what from me?" I was genuinely interested. "Something in writing?"
"Not hardly," he sounded like he surpassed a chuckle. "The only other person that knows what happened in that lab, besides the people who were there, is my colleague, the CEO of RCA. I spoke to him this morning. He was extremely unhappy about my discretion and judgment, and the fact that everyone at RCA knew what was happening. He's given me direction going forward.
"For the success of the program," he went on. "First, I'm offering two full years of marriage and personal counseling, if you want it. Second, every person on that team will be signing an NDA. Third, Ashley will be silently reprimanded, and that reprimand will be entered into her file. That extends to her academic file."
"In return for what?" I asked.
"In return for a chance," he responded quickly. "A chance for your marriage, a chance for all the people who suffer from HDGC, a chance for..."
"You guys to make millions," I interrupted. "Let's not forget that."
"Perhaps," he said. "Not for me though. That isn't my motivation. As the managing director, I make plenty of money, Kurt. The success of this project assures my job into perpetuity."
"Unless I go public, of course," I said emotionlessly. "That's a significant tidbit."
"I'm hoping you won't do that, Kurt," he sure had this well planned. "The team has already been asked to assist with other 'orphan' cancers, including the one we halted research on when we undertook HDGC. Additionally, your wife had become famous overnight. We'll have to keep the press at bay, to continue our work."
"So, let me get this straight," I was back to being angry. "I stay home, keep my mouth shut, worry about what my wife is doing when she gets stuck, especially with Beltran on the team..."
"No, Kurt, he will not be on the team," Paxton spoke determinedly. "The CEO demanded I call him and put him on a sabbatical. The fact that he broke protocol and just called you, makes my task all the easier. Ashley gets disciplined - Chad Beltran is off the team indefinitely. I won't deny it seems like we're trying to cover our tracks, but as I see it, Ashley made horrible choices. I know from talking to her that final morning she regrets her actions. I saw her eyes, just as I saw yours that day you discovered them."
"Ashley gave him my cell number," I knew that was childish, but I couldn't help myself.
"That error will be corrected as soon as I end my call with you." He said matter-of-factly. "Now, what else can we do to help you and Ashley repair this shit show?"
The fact he was down to earth enough to finally use a swear word impressed me - at least momentarily.
"John, here's the issue for me," I said, sighing. "Ashley and the rest of the team cured a certain cancer. That's a big deal, and since my brother was a big part of it, I can only be amazed, and eternally grateful. I can also be extremely proud. Proud of your team, and my wife.
"But now, we're in a personal crisis. She's going to be pulled in all directions. Her time will be taxed. Our ability to solve or fix our personal issues - hell, even to end our relationship - is going to be a slave to the work - your collective work. We'll probably have to make appointments to even see each other. You're a part of the problem on that one, and you're pretending like you want to be the solution. And like Ashley, I've lost all faith in your goodwill. I don't trust RCA to have my best interests at heart."
"I'm sorry to hear that," he was somber. "But I can certainly understand it. Here's the best I can offer and hopefully, it will help assuage some of your mistrust. During any of our scheduled time at any of the labs we're currently contracting with, and during all of our scheduled media appearances, I will be present with Ashley. I'll be with her ninety-nine percent of the time that we aren't sleeping. I give my absolute word that nothing even remotely resembling what took place at RCA will occur. I'll be there, and just in case Ashley hasn't learned a hard lesson, there's still her disciplinary action."
I was absorbing what he said, and in that silence, he offered another thought. "Kurt here's another opinion - take it or leave it - I'm talking man to man and from personal experience. You two have a lot to overcome. That's a certainty. Counseling, if you both take me up on it, will help sort a lot out, but with Ashley's new workload, anything happening quickly is an unreasonable expectation. Instead of getting frustrated, or going to one extreme or the other, perhaps consider a temporary separation."
"I don't know, John, if..."
"Just hear me out, and then I'll shut up," he cut me off. "A trial separation would solve plenty in the short-term, and it would force both of you to be constantly grounded in your relationship, or specifically, repairing it. First, you'd both have to set the terms of the agreement. That could entail what happens when you're together, more importantly, what each of your responsibilities in the relationship was when you're not together. Personal boundaries, personal space, dos and don'ts, reconnection activities, and so on.
"I've seen Ashley at her best, Kurt," he continued. "She's at her very best when she has a set or a list of challenges, can prioritize them, and then work to solve each in the proper order. I think you're probably more or less the same, to a lesser degree, and I think you know I'm right about your wife. I think with a reasonable amount of guardrails both of you will come to determine the importance of your relationship, and possibly a way back."
"I'll think about it, John. No promises." I told him.
"That's all I can ask," he was conciliatory. "You can call me on this number, anytime, Kurt."
Later that night, I admonished Ashley first thing, about giving that asshole my number. It turned into a fight, more because our nerves were totally frayed than anything else. It wasn't either of us at our finest. In the end, we both calmed down. Ashley brought up the elephant in the room first.
"Kurt, when can I come home, and start working on putting this behind us?" she asked hopefully.
"There is no putting this behind us," I said honestly, as I heard her gasp. "What I mean is, if you come home, it will be working on a solution and repairing our marriage, and what the future holds. There is no going back to before."
Ashley was frazzled and sad. I could see her worn face through her tone of voice, over the phone. But there was also some amount of hope that I could hear too.
"Okay," she said, "so when? Your family is starting to get very suspicious. I've already had to confess to Jill. She won't tell anyone, but she's completely enraged with my actions. Your mom and dad are going to pick up on that, probably just a little before your brother and Melinda."
"Let's agree to talk Saturday afternoon here at the house," I suggested. "If we can agree then you can move back Sunday."
Life certainly is strange. Sometimes more so than others.
I laid in bed that night not even trying to go to sleep, just thinking. At some point my head hurt, so I went to the living room, with two Ibuprofen and a pad of paper.
I thought about what John had said. Then I stopped and backtracked. I thought about my feelings for Ashley. It was easy to acknowledge that without the deep love that I felt for her, there wouldn't be the pain or anger that went along with it. It would be easy to shrug her off and walk away. So then, I needed to isolate the anger and identify her treachery completely.
Of course, I knew about her idiosyncrasy. I was a happy participant in it. She lied about her weird issue at RCA, and she cheated. At some point, she lost respect for me. But maybe she didn't. If she really didn't think about me like she said. I didn't believe that - didn't believe her, in that regard, so we were back to trust. And the worst fact, maybe the hardest to ever overcome - was having seen her with him. Her facial expression was in the throes of bliss and ecstasy; his contorted and twisted like a man possessed. And equally as bad, her inability to ever understand how it had impacted me. Sure, she'd say all the right words, about betrayal and vows, how she'd feel if the situation was reversed. But she would never be a man, and she'd never understand the hit to my manhood, pride, and ego heavily weighted.
So I started writing. I based a lot of what I wrote on those thoughts. I'd circle back and create conditions later, just so I could see if trying to stay together was feasible. I crossed some things out as well. Those were just anger-driven thoughts based on my current state of mind.
Then I began the framework, based on my discussion with John Paxson. I thought about some of her good traits, things that had been wonderful before she fucked Beltran. I wanted our talk to be even-handed and fair, even though I'd been unfairly wronged. Mostly, I wanted her to feel as much of the mutual pain and anguish as I did. I needed to somehow balance the scales, or this would all be an exercise in futility. Lastly, I needed conditions that spelled out clearly and concisely my views on fidelity.
Ashley arrived at precisely noon. I expected nothing less. After a brief hug, some small talk, sitting in our living room facing each other from separate furniture, we began.
"I suppose I'll go first if that's all right," I told her. She nodded. "I've thought hard, about almost nothing else this week. I've come to some conclusions. I love you, Ashley. I don't like you very much right now, but after careful assessment, my love is still there. I feel obligated... no, that's not the right word. This is separate from saving Tom's life. I feel compelled to see if we can find a way forward... to stay together and try to rebuild a better future together. I know you've said that you want to reconcile since you got home, so as of right now today, do you still feel the same way?"
"Of course!" Ashley's eyes flooded with tears, happy ones. "That's all I want! I'll do anything to show my love, earn your trust, and make all of this up to you. No, that last part isn't right either. I could never make up for what I've done. But I do intend to make you forget, even if just a little every day, by showing you what you mean to me. If we stay together, that will be my main focus."
I studied her face. The genuineness I was hoping for was there. "Okay, so let's talk about what it looks like. I have a proposal and some conditions."
Her happy face fell. Maybe it was anticipation, or maybe she was shocked. If she thought things were going back to what they'd been before, and she could just love the betrayal out of me, she was gravely mistaken. I picked up a stack of papers from my right side, just out of her view. All the things I'd written a few nights before had been organized several times over. I'd gone online to a do-it-yourself divorce site and created a trial separation. I'd selected the addendum and a blank page to add all my conditions. Then I'd typed it all up and made a duplicate. I handed Ashley her copy, and she tentatively took it from me, staring at it like a poisonous snake.
"A separation?" she asked in disbelief. "I thought you just said..."
"I did," I interrupted. "These are guidelines as far as I'm concerned - for success. Take a minute to read through them and then ask anything you'd like."
Ashley's hopes had been immediately dashed, and it showed on her face. She didn't get far before looking up at me.
"Kurt, really?" she asked. Then she took a deep breath and let it out. "I know you talked to John. I know Chad... I know he called you too. I'm told you know about the disciplinary action against me, and the fact that Chad... he is off the team."
"First, wife," I scolded, "stop trying to not say his name. It only serves your guilty conscience and keeps the bastard front and center in my mind. His name has nothing to do with the callous thing the two of you did - four times."
She seemed shocked. Not by my words, but it seemed like it had never occurred to her that I'd engage her that way. She was going to find out a great many things were going to change, if we were going to give our marriage a shot.
"But you must know I'd never call on him ever again?" she stated.
"I don't know that," I replied evenly. "Or I wouldn't have put it in there. That goes for him specifically and for anyone else." She went back to reading.
"I've already been tested," she said, having read that condition. "I should have the results Monday or Tuesday, at the latest." There were a few moments of silence as she continued.
"What?" she almost wailed. "You want me to see someone professionally about my... idiosyncrasy?"
"Yes," I nodded. "You're going to be on the road, as John tells me, and some of that will involve working with other labs when you're not being interviewed by some TV host. That means you'll have opportunity and motive, just like at RCA."
The wheels were spinning in my wife's head. She was beginning to understand that we weren't having a negotiation. Being boxed in wasn't good for her genius ego.
"Okay," she said after a long pause. "If that's what it will take." It was time to put that to rest as well.
"It's not what it will take, Ashley," I scolded. "It's what needs to be. You're here, hopefully for the reasons you've stated. I'm telling you what has to be done for us to move forward. I never want to be in this doggy fuck situation ever again. I've thought about how we can make that happen. There it is." I waved at the paperwork.
"I understand," she nodded and kept going. Finally, she got to the last part. "No," she said firmly, "I will not agree to this condition. You're not sleeping in the spare room for any length of time. I need you in bed with me, even if only to cuddle. I can't express my love if we're living together but physically separate. That will only lead to hard feelings, and then emotional separation. That won't work for us."
I took a deep breath. "Ashley, I'm going to ask you to do something. I want you to close your eyes and imagine me having sex with someone else. Not some ugly woman either. Maybe your nemesis from school or something like that. Imagine me really enjoying it."
I was silent and stared at my wife. She looked at me with... I don't know. A look that said how upset she was that I was treating her like a child. She was smarter than me, at least in her mind, and in many things that was true. But it also spoke to the respect or lack thereof. She thought her IQ extended to everything in our relationship. Finally, she saw I wasn't budging and closed her eyes.
She waited about twenty seconds before opening them. "All right," she said.
"All right," I mimicked. "Would you want to have sex with me, if those visions were constantly on your mind? If you had to consciously push them aside, all day every day?"
Ashley's head hung like all the air had been sucked out of her. "No," she replied softly. "I suppose not. But I need to regain our intimacy."
"No, you don't," I said quickly. "If the situation were reversed, I'd have to be patient with you - delicate even - until you were willing."
Ashley had had enough of the barrage. She quickly agreed to my conditions, I think mostly to spare herself the indignity of being bested. I wasn't hopeful, but we'd have to see.
My wife had been optimistic and had all of her stuff loaded in her car, so moving back in took less than one hour. I'd already set up in our spare room. Dinner and relaxing in front of the TV that night was anything but. The air was thick, and finally, mentally exhausted, Ashley announced she was going to bed - at least an hour before her normal time.
The next morning, I went over to Tom's to help with some general chores, that he wasn't supposed to be doing just yet. I was nice to Ashley, but I didn't offer any terms of endearment, or loving gestures. It wasn't intentional. I was still angry, and it was hard to be around her. That night, as we both headed up to bed, she stopped me gently in the hallway and kissed my cheek.
"I love you, Kurt." She sounded sincere.
"I love you too, Ashley," I told her with some amount of reassurance.
Our lives went on like that for weeks. She knew the time to go on 'tour' was coming quickly, and was at times, desperate for affection and physical attention.
Tuesday, I came home from work and found her on the phone. She didn't stroll off or change her volume, so I figured it was simply work things. When I went upstairs to shower, I found her lab results laying on the pillow of my bed.
She was wise enough not to push for sex that night. I could tell that my attitude was wearing on her, but she needed to understand. She hadn't simply made a mistake. That would have been the one with Beltran, but not four times. But there was more to it in my mind. And it was there, in my mind, where the real issue lay. I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd seen with my own eyes. I'd tried, over and over. I could only hope time would help solve my dilemma.
For the next two weeks, life went on in a sad vacuum. Ashley and I went from speaking very little to one another, to actively trying to avoid each other in the confines of our home. I went to work earlier and came home later, unsuccessfully hoping to avoid the inevitable.
Finally, two weeks after Ashley had returned, she entered the spare room as I was getting ready for bed, in the nude. I gave her a shocked look and she simply raised an eyebrow at me.
"I'm sorry," she said nonchalantly, "but I need my husband. It's been far too long for both of us."
I hadn't considered her going on offense. I guess I'd just expected her to acquiesce to me. So, in the spur of the moment, I decided that I might as well give it a go. Her timing had been impeccable. I stood there in my boxers, getting ready to put on my pajamas. She came to me, wrapped her arms around my neck, and kissed me.
It was very odd. The kiss, her smell, and her taste were familiar and inviting. She was doing something we'd done hundreds, hell, thousands of times. But in another sense, it was foreign, like she was a stranger. That made me sad and made it hard to focus on the positive feelings I should have been having. I discarded those thoughts as best I could and tried to give her my undivided attention.
My hands roamed her familiar flawless skin. Other memories, fonder ones began to settle in, and my cock responded. She felt it too and kissed me with more urgency. She quickly found her way into my shorts, and her warm hand encircled me. I gasped - it had been a long time - she was right about that.
Ashley has a high IQ if I hadn't made that clear. Her approach was not lovemaking with extended foreplay. She'd thought this through. As she laid back on the bed, she pulled me along with her, and her free hand deftly removed my underwear. Not falling on her awkwardly and hurting her was a challenge, but within seconds we were back to kissing wildly and she was inserting my rigid pole into her wetness.
There was a loud gasp, from her that time, as our lips separated. I began slamming into her, with vengeance. There was no tenderness in what we were doing. It was almost like our very first doggy fuck, except facing each other, I remembered thinking.
It all went sideways from there. I thought about our doggy fucks, and almost immediately, I saw Beltran behind her, pounding away like an eighteen-year-old. I tried to refocus. That scene wouldn't go away. I felt my erection fading before she did. I think she was really into what we were doing, but then my cock slipped out of her, and she quickly reached to put it back, thinking it was only a slip.
As soon as she realized the cock in her hand was completely deflated, her eyes opened in horror, searching my face. I'm sure I looked embarrassed and sheepish. After a few seconds of searching, staring, and processing, her expression turned sad. But she was also determined. She began stroking me, her grip tight and hurtful. Her eyes were imploring me to respond. My embarrassment turned to anger. Anger because she'd done this to us - to me. I reached down and pulled her hand away and turned to face the window.
I felt her hand on my back, gently rubbing. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly, "Or is it just too soon?"
I shrugged, not turning to look at her. "I'll leave if that's what you want," she said resolutely, "Or I can stay. We can talk about it, or if it's okay, we can just cuddle. I know this is my fault, not yours. I'm here as your wife and because I love you. No blame, no judgment or condemnation. Just love."
I let her stay, and we did cuddle. I fell asleep, and when I woke in the morning she was gone. I expected she'd had a restless night and was probably in the kitchen, but to my surprise, she was in our... her bed, sleeping. I watched her peaceful face for a minute or two and wondered if we'd ever get back on track, or if we even had a chance.
Ashley and I did talk about our shortcomings, although at times arduous for her and burdensome for me. We also tried twice more that week and one time the following week with similar results. By that third time, I was so twisted up inside, thinking about her and Beltran, that was all I could think of and didn't even get hard.
That following month was surreal. We did our best to act like husband and wife - no, we tried to act like 'us' throughout the days. But the nights were hard. We meandered around each other, and our problems, both afraid and aware of the fragility that existed between us. More often, instead of cuddling on the sofa and talking about - well, anything like we'd used to - she would plant herself in a chair and read, while I watched TV or played golf on my phone.
One morning, Ashley addressed the issue head-on. "What do you think about counseling?" she asked sweetly. There it was. I'd thought plenty about seeing someone and pushed the idea away like the plague. I wanted to be diplomatic about it, but she read the indecision and anguish on my face.
"You think about it, is all I'm asking," she said patting my hand. "We have time. You know I'm leaving Wednesday for ten days, so we can talk about it when I return."
I knew that, but with my mind in constant turmoil, I'd forgotten. "Where are you going again?" I inserted that final word in case she'd told me that too.
"Well," she said, excited to tell me. "The first four days at the National Cancer Research Center. Some meetings first, and then our team will be meeting with groups working on pancreatic and liver cancer. Then we fly to Los Angeles. There we are scheduled to do a taping for "The View," and then the final four days at UCLA and a stop at Children's Hospital."
I wanted to ask her why any self-respecting scientist would do a talk show with a bunch of nimb-wit cackling hags but thought better of it.
"Who's going?" I tried to ask nonchalantly but failed.
"The entire team, minus Dr. Beltran," she answered after a nefarious sigh. "It will just be John Paxson and me in California."
I had to force myself not to ask about hotel accommodations, but she must have felt it dripping from me.
"All of us are booked into separate rooms for the duration." She added, with some disdain. If this was how things were going to play out every time she had to go, our marriage probably wouldn't last.
Ashley called each night on her trip. Some nights we talked longer than others. I found myself less worried about what she was up to and the time I spent alone was refreshing.
Jill came over two times, just to visit and waited until the second night to address my issues.
"What are you planning to do?" she asked discreetly right after the ballgame ended.
"About what?" I answered stupidly.
"You know what I'm talking about, Kurt," she admonished. "You and Ashley. What are you going to do?"
Jill had always been that way with me. She tackled things head-on, and she was very good at getting me to open up.
"We're trying to work it out," I said dismissively. "That's where we are right now."
"Well," she said, "the family is getting suspicious. For some reason, they are looking to me for answers. Mom and Dad were planning on coming over here just before Ashley left to drag it out of you two, and then try to help you solve your problems."
My parents had always been a little overbearing. Tom called it 'meddling,' but that isn't what we all called it. Still, they were the glue that held our family together. They'd certainly taken to Ashley and treated her as a daughter long before she helped save Tom. They treated Melinda the same way.
"I can't tell them," I looked at Jill sincerely. "It isn't just that I don't want them to know about her idiosyncrasy, I'm embarrassed, damn it!"
"Well, then," she lectured. "You better get your head out of your ass, appear happier around all of them, and spend a little more time with your brother and his family."
Life is as strange as you make it.
Ashley returned but was off to Boston six days later, then on to the University of Michigan, and lastly an entire five days in Vancouver. During her brief stay, she tried to initiate sex once, the night after she got home. I stayed harder longer, probably because I hadn't given myself any relief, in the four days before her arrival. But as soon as I entered her, Beltran showed up in my head, and that was that. The next morning, she wasted no time over breakfast.
"I'm not going to push you anymore, baby." She said it like she was doing me a favor. "When you're ready, let me know. I don't want to pressure you, but you have to know, I have needs too."
So, her way to not pressure me was to give me an ultimatum, which put pressure on me.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I raised my voice in anger. "Is that some kind of threat?"
Ashley looked shocked. She stared at me like I was a stranger. I'd never talked to her like that before. Then she looked away for a few moments, before leaving the room. As was my normal Saturday routine, I went out to get started on yard work.
When I came in for a break in the early afternoon, Ashley joined me in our living room. She sat next to me on the sofa. "I'm sorry about the way I put things this morning," she said apologetically. "You had every right to explode on me. I'm just frustrated. I want my husband back, but I'm the reason he isn't present. I can solve... fix almost anything. I've broken you, and I have no idea what to do about it."
She broke down then. I blamed her, but I was also empathetic. I wrapped my arms around my wife, making her cry even harder. I just let her get it all out of her system. Finally, she calmed a bit.
"I'm sorry too," I told her. "I guess we're both on edge. Listen, Ashley, you need to know, it isn't for lack of trying. I am. I told you in the beginning, I had no idea how I was going to overcome what I'd seen. It's not punishment or revenge. I'm trying to keep him out of our bedroom with all I have, but I can't."
"I know," she sniffled and wiped her face on her sleeve. "I believe you. It's not that. When it happens, all my good feelings just disappear, and I'm back to the extreme guilt I feel. I wish you would talk to someone... a professional, but I understand if you can't or won't. I want you to know, I'm on your team. So be it if it's celibacy for an indeterminant amount of time. I'm prepared to go the distance for you and our marriage."
With that extra pressure off of our backs, Ashley and I actually got along much better before she left again. We'd cuddled a few nights watching TV. Other evenings, she was as busy as she'd been in college, trying to solve the world's problems.
When Ashley left for her trip, we hugged tightly, and more genuinely. "I'll call you every night," she assured. "Any night you feel like talking about things, just text me sometime during the day, so I know and can prepare myself for an extended conversation. I may be gone, but you're my priority."
That's what we did. We talked and talked. I'm not ashamed to say that a few nights we talked dirty, and I'm sure she got some relief like I did. Other nights she wanted to know if I knew what happened in our bedroom to trigger my thoughts of her with Beltran. I told her the how and when, but the why was still a mystery to me.
On the day before Ashley was due home, Melinda knocked on my door. When I let her in, she looked stricken. For a moment I thought something happened to Tom. She quickly assured me he was okay. But once we sat down at the kitchen table, she described scenarios that told me Tom was anything but okay.
What she told me over the next hour, sounded like some sort of reverse Florence Nightingale Effect, or transference. Tom had started obsessing about Ashley. And he was becoming short, agitated, and occasionally aggressive with Melinda and the kids.
"Did you know," she asked between tears, "that he's going to that hospital in Atlanta with her on their next trip?"
I didn't know, and my wife hadn't brought it to my attention either. I guess my expression gave Melinda her answer.
"I'm worried," she said, sullenly. "I don't think he should go. He needs help, Kurt. He's gone off the deep end."
"Does anyone else know about this?" I asked. She shook her head. Do you want me to talk to him?"
"Better you than your father," she told me. "You know how your parents are. This might come better from his brother, plus she's your wife."
"Or make it worse," I opined, "because she's my wife. But I agree about Mom and Dad."
My Mother and Father were, to me anyway, some of the best parents two sons could have. We'd asked or needed for nothing growing up. As they got older, though, and us as well, they'd become more controlling. They'd also taken to Ashley and Melinda like daughters, instead of in-laws, but I saw that as a means to ensure they had access to their grandkids. It wasn't anything overt - not even something an outsider would notice. It's why I was so perplexed that they hadn't been over while Ashley was out of town, grilling me about the state of our relationship.
My conversation with Tom went about as I'd expected. He denied or deflected and at one point turned it around on his wife, saying she'd been the one who seemed under pressure, now that his cancer was in remission. Only when I confronted him point-blank about Ashley, and the look on his face gave him away, told me Melinda was right, did I realize the truth.
Not even an hour after Ashley came home from her trip, I began the inquisition.
"When were you going to tell me about Tom going with you to Atlanta?" I asked with fervor.
"I... we just... Got confirmation two days ago." She replied sheepishly. And she left it there.
"What is that supposed to mean, Ashley?"
"We were... are supposed to be honored at a CDC dinner." She explained. "Me, of course for the delivery system, and Tom for being Patient One. We just got word that he was to be included."
"So, why would Tom have been talking about it for a couple of weeks now?" I probed, trying to catch my wife in a lie. "He's making a big deal about it. It would have been nice to hear it from you, instead of his very worried wife."
"Melinda was here?" she seemed shocked, or was she worried? "What did she say? Why was she here?"
This line of questioning was out of line. I understood that my wife and I were at odds, and I also knew that she was doing everything in her power to keep the sad truth from Tom and Melinda's family, as well as my parents. But it felt like she was accusing me of something.
"Are you asking if I slept with her, while you were gone?" No point beating around the bush.
"No," she became saddened. "Of course not. Just why she was here, Kurt. Tom has been telling me... confiding really, what's going on between the two of them. He's worried about her."
So, Ashley, as his healer had also been his recent confidant. That was probably causing Tom's enamored state of mind.
"Being his sounding board isn't a very good idea right now," I lectured her. "Tom is leaning into you - hard right now - as a caregiver, as a lifesaver, and likely as an extremely attractive woman. He's becoming obsessed, and you know how that will turn out considering he sees you as something unattainable - someone he can't have."
"That's ridiculous!" she replied loudly. "He seems perfectly normal to me, except for the condition of his home life, and his concerns for Melinda."
"Well, they're both claiming the same thing of the other," I said matter-of-factly. "And only one of them is right. I'm just asking you to be careful."
Ashley thought for a moment. "If you're right, why not come with me on this trip?" she genuinely seemed like she wanted me there. "We don't have to have sex for you to spend time with me, or vice versa. I miss you."
She sounded sincere. But she wasn't. The Ashley I'd known all that time wouldn't have missed or forgotten to clue me in or invite me to be with her. Certainly not after my brother. Even if the formal plans hadn't been cemented earlier. That gave me pause. I was taken aback, and I'm sure Ashley saw that, although she didn't immediately question it. It was one more thing to evaluate.
Six weeks after Ashley came home from RCA, she was leaving again for her fourth trip. She'd be working for several days on a delivery system for medicine to do with pancreatic cancer. Right in the middle of those days, Ashley and John would need to take a break and participate in all the hoopla of a CDC dinner in their honor. My brother, Tom, was flying out with her, and returning the day after the event.
Ashley made a big deal of providing all the details of their lodging and itinerary. I found it superfluous and frankly, unnecessary. I worked a job fifty hours per week. On top of that, I was now the only person trying to maintain our home. Some nights, I was so disinterested in talking to Ashley, that we both gave up early into our conversations. Whatever my wife might or might not do behind my back, could easily be accomplished without my knowledge. And Ashley was only in the first few weeks of what would be months on the road.
I wavered as I watched her board the plane with Tom. Part of me was relieved to have her gone again so soon. I was at my best when I didn't have a constant reminder of my troubles. Part of me missed her though - missed the closeness and the intimacy that we'd once shared.
I was home maybe fifteen minutes when my mother called and informed me, I was required at a family barbeque at Tom's house that afternoon. I called Jill and she confirmed that she already knew it was going to be an inquisition. I was tired of the pretense, and desperately wanted the sad truth to be known, but I was also embarrassed. There was the matter of infringement of Ashley's privacy since she wasn't going to be there to defend her actions.
With a sad, heavy heart I cleaned up, grabbed a bottle of wine, and headed over to face my family. Dinner was good as always, while the conversation was heavily laced with phoniness I rarely saw in this group. Everyone skated around the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room. That would have to wait until the kids were off to other things.
Dear old Dad started things off, eager to get his show on the road. "All right son," he said with a mix of kindness and pity. "What's going on with you and Ashley?"
"Marital problems, Dad." I'd had time to consider my response, and along with my embarrassment, I wanted to protect my wife's virtue, not that she had much left in my own eyes.
"We all know that," he said in an elevated tone. "What kind of marital problems, exactly?"
There it was. I guess I didn't have as much prep time as I'd thought. Maybe it was too painful for me to want to think it through. I looked away from him and around the room. Jill gave me an encouraging nod.
"It's not my place to tell you," I tried once more. "You should ask Ashley."
My father gave a heavy, nasal sigh. "I'm asking you, son. It's your marriage - your happiness too. I promise to reserve judgment on Ashley until I can speak with her and get her side of things. Get her explanation. We - all of us - can see how unhappy you both are. We're here to help. Especially after what she di... what you both did for Tom."
There it was - in spades. The holy savior Ashley was so revered that she didn't even have to attend her own trial. Better to hear it from her spokesman. That pissed me off. They favored her over their own son, and I was bitterly tired of holding everything inside.
"She cheated on me," I said looking down in distress and unease. "Four times... that I know of."
There were gasps, followed by silence. "My mother mumbled, "That's... not possible."
My own mother took her side, against me. That only fueled my anger. I was so fed up with this shit.
"Screw you, Mom!" I lashed out. "It's not only possible, it's true."
My father was out of his chair. I wasn't ready for the open-handed slap, so there was shock along with the sting. I'd forgotten momentarily how I'd been raised.
"Don't you ever talk to your mother that way," his anger dripped from his words.
By now I was on my feet, but when I saw the look in his eyes, he seemed as hurt as when I'd seen Ashley fucking Beltran in the napping room. I understood why he lashed out. Still, we weren't going to get anywhere doing this.
"I'm leaving," I stated definitively. As I glanced around at each face there were plenty of different emotions. Jill looked heartbroken and disconsolate. Mom wore a mask of dismay. Melinda sat there astonished and appalled. I rapidly headed for the door. Suddenly they found their voices, collectively yelling and screaming - appealing to me to come back. The kids would be soon in that room, out of morbid childish curiosity, so there was no point for me to linger.
Jill gently touched my elbow as I was getting in my car. "I'm sorry that went like that," she said sincerely.
"Yeah, well, it's what I expected," I replied. "And I told you so earlier before I came."
"I know." She didn't have any idea how to fix things, and it was apparent in her eyes. "But you can't leave now. You can't leave it hanging there. Please come back inside and tell the whole story. I'll go in before you and make sure Dad keeps himself in check."
"Sure," I laughed bitterly. "I have a better idea. You know the whole story. At least the side my wife told you. They'll believe her over me anyway, so you go finish the story. Tell Dad not to try speaking to me the rest of the week, or else he may get what's coming to him."
Jill looked horrified for a moment, realizing it had come to this, but just as quickly her resolve returned. "I'll do my best, Kurt.
I went back home to my empty house. Being a baby and wallowing in my troubles was not a thing I did. That night I pulled out my favorite whiskey and drank myself to sleep. Before doing so, I resolved to make it a one-night thing and start making decisions the next day about where I wanted my life to go. Everything would be so much easier if I didn't love the damned woman with my whole heart.
The next morning, I called in sick again. I was a senior manager with my company, so that simply meant a courtesy phone call to let my subordinates know I wouldn't be in. After a shower, shave and a Bloody Mary to go with my coffee, I began to write. Pros and cons; pluses and minuses. Possible directions for our lives going forward. I kept coming back to two things. Ashley, my wife was basically 'in the wind.' That wasn't her fault, necessarily. If I'd cured cancer - even just one kind of cancer - would I be able to put off an entire scientific community desperate for my help and knowledge, to work on my marriage? The other thing that plagued me was the fact that I couldn't keep it up while trying to have sex with my wife. Just like her galivanting all over the country, my issue wasn't my fault either.
But, unlike her issue, I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to 'perform' for her in our bed again. At least not until I could stop seeing that fucker, Beltran in our bed with us. Worse, we couldn't talk about it - not in person, at least - trying to come to some resolution. With those two circumstances out of our control, I wasn't hopeful that anything good was in store for our immediate future.
No one had called me after I'd left. I was thankful. My parents, both of them, had really hurt me. It wasn't their business in the first place, and now I had the added worry of outing my wife and what might be revealed when she returned. That conjured up another dark thought that I couldn't cast aside. What were the open possibilities that something between her and Tom would materialize?
Melinda called my cell at about ten-thirty. "I can't believe you let Tom go away with her!" She was almost hysterical. "Why didn't you tell me the truth? I could have... could have stopped him from going. What the hell is wrong with you?"
I let her get it all out. Never had I heard or seen her this furious. Finally, Melinda ran out of steam and took a long deep breath. "Aren't you going to say something?"
"I don't know what to say, Melinda," I replied honestly. "I'm the one who tried to talk to my brother if you recall. That was at your request. I asked my wife if taking him along wasn't such a good idea, but she blew off my concerns. I know you think it's playing with fire, and maybe I'm a little worried too, but there wasn't anything to do about it, except trust them."
"I know you're right," she said more calmly. "I'm worried. I had no idea what happened to Ashley at that lab. I had no idea what you were going through. I'm sorry about your dad attacking you like that. I just don't know what to think about all this."
I consoled her for a few more minutes, but truthfully, my heart wasn't in it. My life was rapidly going to shit, and I'd found no viable solutions to stop the onslaught. I told Melinda to call me anytime and that I'd continue to check in on her, as long as my parents weren't there to blindside me.
Not an hour later, Jill stopped by. She looked wary - like she hadn't slept well. I offered a tuna sandwich since I was already making one for myself and she accepted.
"So, how'd it go?" I asked, morbidly curious.
"Shock and awe, I guess would be the best description," she said with a long sigh. "I did my best to explain, based on what Ashley confessed to me."
"Yeah," I responded, "maybe we should talk about that so there aren't too many versions floating around. One is bad enough."
Jill took another bite of her sandwich and then said, "She told me about her idiosyncrasy and that it had always been between the two of you until she decided to enlist Dr. Beltran at RCA. The part I don't understand is why she did it three more times. When I asked about that, she said 'Neither did she.'"
"And therein lies the rub," I continued what she was thinking sarcastically. "I don't believe that. I keep trying to, but the devil on my shoulder won't shut up."
"I asked her a lot of things," she ignored my previous rant. "Like why she couldn't just buy an industrial-sized vibrator. I even challenged her, saying I could get off better from my toy than any man."
She saw my eyebrow rise, and she chuckled. "Easy, bro. Technology and all that. She said she'd tried that before. It had to be real sex and it had to be doggy. She went on to assure me there was no intimate contact..."
"Bullshit!" I interrupted. "Doggy sex is intimate. She's trying to change definitions."
"I know," she replied, seeing that I was becoming upset. "She meant no 'other' intimate contact like kissing. She went on to tell me you saw them doing the deed, the fourth and final time. Said you accused her of sleeping with him a fifth time, and it really hurt her. I didn't get what she was saying until she explained you thought she probably threw him a goodbye fuck, as in made love to him, before coming home."
"Anything else?" I asked, worn out from hearing the story again.
"No," she said, leaning back. "I explained how I thought you felt, the betrayal, seeing them in the act, and how that probably affected you. She listened and made some faces as I talked about my brother, Kurt, as I knew him. The faces she made were of surprise or fear. I told her patience would be important if she wanted to keep you. Then I asked if she wanted to keep you."
Jill let it hang there. My eyebrow went up again, "she told me absolutely, Kurt. I believe her."
"So, how did Mom and Dad handle all you told them?" I wanted to get back to the heart of our conversation. "Did they have any understanding at all?"
"They did," she said with a sigh. "For them, it's a matter of wrapping their heads around things. Ashley is - was their hero. She saved their son. It's hard for someone to go from hero to zero in someone's mind that quickly. They have to come to terms, reconcile even, that while she saved one son, she shit on the other."
"Okay," I replied. "I'll call them later and try to patch things up a bit."
I did speak to my parents separately, and both apologized for their behavior. It was as Jill had told me - they couldn't suddenly believe that Ashley would do something like that to me. I told them, going forward, they'd need to talk to her about the specifics and hear her side of the story. While being diplomatic, I felt anything but.
Ashley returned on schedule. Tom arrived a day before her. My wife seemed off somehow, but I couldn't tell what it was about. When I asked, she told me she had a lot on her mind. She was home for a week and then was leaving again. Tom wasn't part of her next trip, but he had been asked back to Atlanta in three weeks, for more testing, and so other professionals could study Ashley's delivery system in real-time.
On the third night, Ashley shocked me, although I probably shouldn't have been surprised.
"Kurt, can we talk please," she asked tentatively.
I sat down opposite her. "Honey," she said softly, "things aren't going well for us right now..." She saw I was about to interrupt but waved me off. "I'm not saying it's your fault. The beginnings of it are mine, and they still are, with me being gone so much. I have an idea - a thought - that I'd like your opinion on."
She was fiddling with her hands and I could tell her mouth was dry. "I'm wondering if we should take some pressure off ourselves, maybe take an official break from our relationship. What are your..."
"An official break!?" I burst out, cutting her off. "What? Have you found a replacement already?"
I knew she hadn't, and I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. I also realized just exactly how stressed I was, and how deep my distrust in her had become. Ashley left the room sobbing and without another word. I slept in the guestroom anyway, so I didn't bother her. In the morning she tried once again.
"That hurt me, Kurt," she started. "But I guess I should have expected it. I was asking for a trial separation. Not a divorce, and no there is no one else. I'm away. We can't get any traction at fixing our marriage. To me, this is about healing us, not driving a bigger wedge."
"This is a lot to hit me with," I told her honestly. "I need a day to think about it."
On the fourth day, after my wife put in a ten-hour day on her computer, we sat down with a glass of wine. I handed her a stack of papers forlornly. She studied them closely, and then she looked into my eyes.
"Are you sure?" she asked. I nodded.
"This can be a bridge for us," she continued. "I did something horrible to you. My apologies aren't cutting it. I can't make anything up to you or even show you how much I value you as my husband and my friend because I'm not here often enough. You don't trust me. That hurts, but my therapist has helped me understand, and I get it."
"Since when do you have a therapist?" I asked.
"Since I hired one, two weeks ago," she responded. "We meet twice a week on Zoom, or by phone. I had an appointment this morning. Like it or not, it isn't about your brother's life anymore. Our lives have changed because of this. When things settle down, and I'm back here full-time, I want to be able to give you something concrete to believe in. Something you can count on, and that starts with my idiosyncrasy being cured."
That was a step in the right direction. When I'd printed the paperwork from the internet the night before I'd been damned hopeless.
"Kurt," she said my name so sweetly. "I won't profess to understand how men think, but baby, I've known you a long time. You have your probl... issue. I can see from the times we've tried that it's killing you, and if you can't solve that, or get reassurances from me, I don't think we have a chance. You need to work through it. Probably a therapist of your own, maybe even another partner. That will also hurt me, but I'm committed."
She was losing it again. I hated to see the strong woman I'd known for so long crumble like she was.
"I'm being brutally honest up front," She added. "While I'm working diligently with my therapist, I cannot promise that I won't get stuck working on a project while I'm away. I hope you understand what I mean by that. I won't cheat on you again, as I've already promised. I'm hoping I don't get stuck while away, but my therapist says this will take time.
"When I'm home, though," she went on. "I'd like us to work on ourselves, and that means spending quality time, and yes, sleeping together. If you want sex, then you'll get it. I know I'll want it. Hell, I want it now. But that doesn't mean I'm going to pressure you. I want these roadblocks dealt with so that when the science slows down, we have a clear path to reconnect."
Well, she'd put it all out there for me. She'd spent some time thinking things through, both on her end and on mine. Then it hit me what she'd said. She wouldn't cheat, but if she needed doggy sex, to get 'unstuck'...
"So, the separation," I asked with a scowl, "is a means for you to technically not cheat when you get stuck?"
"Not exactly," she responded quickly as if expecting the question. "I love you, and now I've hurt you - terribly - and I don't know what I'd do if I ever hurt you like that again. As I said, I'm working very hard with my therapist to find an alternative 'unsticking' method, but in the meantime, I just can't take the chance of ruining everything for us."
She hesitated with a tear running down her cheek. "If I haven't already. But I... I desperately want to do the work necessary to put our marriage back together. I know it might be hard for you to believe, but I absolutely want to grow old with you. That's why I'm giving you wide latitude with regard to your - mojo - while I'm trying to figure out how to put a stop to this weird need of mine."
Ashley's words sounded good. I wasn't sure they held any true meaning. She'd be on the road for six more months, and then less frequently, and there would be plenty of opportunity to get laid, aside from the doggy sex. However, if we were going to make a concerted effort, then her idea seemed most logical. Logical, except for one thing.
"Ashley, I have a few conditions," I said stoically. "First, if one or both of us ends up having sex - even for your idiosyncrasy - then an STD test must be given to the other the day you arrive home. Secondly, I don't want to know about it, if you get stuck and sex is your resolution. I couldn't take having to think about it the entire time you were away."
My wife took some time to consider what I'd said. Her eyes fluttered slightly like they always did when she was analyzing. "I agree to your terms," she said, sitting up straight. "I'll do whatever it takes to get us back on track and to where we were."
"There's number three," I answered her quickly, having been given to opportunity to say another thing that had been on my mind. "I'd like you to think hard, really consider our new relationship if this all works out. I've given it a great deal of thought, and I seriously doubt we can ever go back... to where we were. If we have any chance, it's going to be both of us focusing on a new us - a new relationship. For me, at least, I no longer see that past as viable."
Ashley seemed stunned, but after a few seconds, she simply nodded her approval.
Life is stranger than one can ever imagine.
Ashley would go away for a week or two at a time. She was more or less consulting on a device she'd already made and patented, so there was less chance for her to get stuck. She never handed me a negative STD panel, so I took that as a good thing.
I spent more time with my family, especially Melinda, and especially when Tom was also away. She couldn't do everything by herself with two kids, and we all helped her out, but soon enough, I'd go over and do the little things she needed help with.
She'd provide me with a nice dinner in return, and I became much closer to my niece and nephew. A typical night would involve me reading them a story, while Melinda cleaned up after dinner, and then we'd sit in the living room with a glass of wine. Occasionally, we'd watch something on TV, but often, we'd simply sit and talk. Melinda had plenty to say and probably had missed that when Tom got his cancer. I really warmed up to her during those months.
Twice, I broke down. The first time was well-planned because I had to see for myself if my pecker was permanently broken or not. I hired a high-priced escort and spent the night with her at the Hilton across town. I was happy to learn my cock worked exceptionally well. She was over the top, and she taught me a few things I didn't know. Additionally, she was patient and just the right mixture of careful and alluring to make me comfortable, after the discomfort of having to tell her my story. Why I felt obligated to do that, I'll probably never know.
The second was after our legal trial separation was stamped. I wanted it to be legit, while Ashley was hoping to keep it off the public record. It was the fourth time that Tom went out of town to a research lab with Ashley. Melinda was incredibly and increasingly worried about her husband and my wayward wife. I'd done all I could to temper her concerns, but she was adamant that Tom had become increasingly distant and distracted.
On the third night, after the kids were asleep, Melinda got into personal issues between her and my brother. I grew up with the guy, so no, I didn't like what I heard. She painted a provocative case that Tom was at the very least, infatuated with Ashley, and ignoring his family. She told me that my parents had also noticed and were growing concerned as well.
I asked her point blank if she thought Tom had slept with Ashley. She broke down sobbing and when she regained control, said that if he hadn't already, he was certainly going to if he kept going to these projects and conferences. She would call him each night, and he rarely called her, but Melinda knew that still left plenty of time for the two.
Then she reminded me about Ashley's idiosyncrasy. I told her about Ashley's promise, and her counterpoint was how strange the two had acted upon returning from that first trip.
I held Melinda on the sofa that night. We spooned and finally, Melinda nearly begged me to have sex with her. She said she had been without for so long and was desperate. I felt strange about it. Knowing she was my brother's wife made me uncomfortable in a variety of ways.
Melinda and I fell asleep together in the same spooning position. We were both talked out. In the hard light of day, the following morning, I told Melinda that I cared for her more than she knew and that I'd enjoyed my time with her and the kids. I was honest in that I'd feel very guilty among other things if we were to do as she suggested. I also reiterated that Ashley and I were on the path to reconciliation.
Two days later, that all went out the window. I was working from home that day since our offices were being renovated. Melinda came hysterically knocking on my door, and she cried for twenty minutes after I let her in.
"I couldn't reach Tom all day yesterday," she cried and complained. "Finally, this morning he returned my call. I asked him why he didn't answer and ignored my texts. Silence. He wouldn't answer me - for a long time. Then he started making half-assed excuses."
Melinda broke down then. She looked like she might faint, so I reached for her and held her tightly. I knew what she'd been thinking. After she calmed down, we sat in my living room and Melinda said she just knew Tom had slept with Ashley. She knew him too well, she concluded.
"Okay," I began, "what time do the kids get out of school?"
"Why?" she asked somewhat bewildered.
"You're in no condition to do motherhood today," I told her. "Let me come over and keep the kids occupied for a while. I can even help by preparing dinner."
Melinda raised an eyebrow. "Kurt, everyone in the family knows you can't cook." She said with pity.
"Yeah, well," I replied, "I can do a mean spaghetti if you have some canned sauce."
She smiled sweetly. "I'll take you up on your offer, as long as we just order pizza. That will be fine."
I helped her get the kids to bed, while she cleaned up the kitchen. I'd become enough of a regular fixture at my brother's house that the kids weren't nearly as excited by my presence.
My nightly call with Ashley was also strained that night. Dozens of times, she'd heard the kids rabblerousing in the background, but that night she seemed uptight about my being there. She even asked why I was. I wanted to lash out and tell her I had to comfort a grieving wife who'd lost her husband, but there wasn't any proof of that.
I slept in Melinda's bed that night. There were plenty of mixed thoughts even as she gently dragged me there by the hand. First, I knew how wrong it was. If I succumbed to temptation, Melinda and I would be no better than our spouses, not to mention we had zero evidence of foul play on their part. Second, I had developed real feelings for Melinda, beyond a sister - well, sister-in-law - and a friend. I could see myself easily being sucked in.
The truth was I'd been lonely for quite some time. That wasn't my inner excuse to me, it just was. Curing cancer wasn't some small feat. Ashley and I wouldn't even begin to move forward until she was no longer being pulled in a thousand directions by her colleagues. In all my time thinking about our future, I finally understood that indifference would likely form between us, and that would be one more hurdle for us to jump. Our lives were moving in different directions.
Despite my trepidations, I gave in and had sex with Melinda that night. I started with the comforting and the holding, and the whispered reassurances, but that led to more.
Terms of endearment, my hand lightly wiping her tears from her cheek. Her soft hand caressed mine, and from there, a kiss. The kind of kiss that explodes into unbridled passion. The kind of unbridled passion that gives way to desperation. Limbs flying awkwardly, night clothes quickly being shed - all while lip-locked. There was no foreplay. She was under me as soon as her panties were off, pulling me - not just my pelvic area, but as if she was literally trying to pull all of me into all of her. It was just sex. Just sex, if you were a casual observer, as I had been in that napping room. But upon closer inspection, our eyes bored into each other's as we longingly gave ourselves to the other. For Melinda and me, there was nothing casual happening.
In the morning, I realized I'd become an equal to my wife. Not as in even, or revenge; no, I'd been just as guilty. I didn't feel good about myself, and I couldn't talk to Melinda about it, because she had the same shitty look on her face.
Not much was said over breakfast, with both of us lost in our thoughts. I was hoping the kids didn't notice. With a meek 'goodbye,' I left for work.
It was hard to focus all day. My thoughts drifted from Melinda to Ashley, and then all-encompassing thoughts of the last several months flooded over me, all the way back to when Tom was diagnosed.
I found myself right back at Melinda's that night. The previous night had been one of the best for me in quite some time. I didn't know if she felt the same, but I was determined to find out as soon as the kids were in bed.
"Can we talk about last night?" I asked, handing her a glass of wine.
She came out of her reverie and nodded. She didn't seem willing to go first so I jumped in.
"Last night was..."
"Wrong," she interrupted.
"Well, that wasn't what I was going to say," I replied. "But go ahead."
She stared at me for several moments before finishing. "It was wrong," she began. "But it was also so right. It felt right. So why do I feel so guilty?"
"Because you're a good person," I told her, hoping I didn't sound too stupid, given the obvious. "Look, neither of us has any concrete proof that our spouses are doing the same, but the strong suspicions are eating away at us both. I think it shows what a good person you are, to feel guilty about doing something you already suspect your husband of. For me, I already know my wife cheated, and if she's been screwing my brother, it would just be a final nail in her coffin."
"It's different for you," she stated. "That's very clear. I'm sure on some level you feel vindicated. I just feel horrible guilt. I'm also afraid for my marriage. I don't know what to do, and what we did, it only muddies the waters. I almost lost Tom to cancer. Now I'm screwing his brother in his own bed."
I explained or tried to, that there was no vindication - that it wasn't a vengeful act. I poured my heart out to Melinda, telling her how I felt about her. Telling her how I felt, holding nothing back.
Despite all the talk and all the reservations, we ended up in bed again that night and made slow, sweet love. Then we fell asleep in each other's arms.
In the morning, Melinda and I agreed to cool it. We needed to find out what was happening with our spouses, and then we could decide things between us. I slept at my own home that night, feeling very lonely. I couldn't see a way forward for Ashley and me. I couldn't see a way forward with Melinda either, especially if Tom wasn't cheating on her, or found out about us.
Just when you think life has hit its strangest limit, life proves you wrong.
Ashley and Tom returned three days after my last time with Melinda. She wasn't acting strange. She was openly aloof and distracted. At least a dozen times, I thought she was about to say something, but she didn't. I'd be damned if I was going to start it for her.
Melinda called me at work the next day. "Did Ashley say anything to you?" she asked.
"No, nothing," I answered. "But she was walking on eggshells from the minute she arrived. Anything with Tom?"
"Nothing," she said, "but I know him, and something is very wrong. He was trying way too hard to be pleasant and in the moment. I can tell something monumental is on his mind. He was on the phone a few times this morning, and then he went out to lunch with Jill."
Later that afternoon, my sister called me. She didn't ask if she could meet me after work, she demanded it. Wearily, I agreed. Part of me wanted the drama to end, and if she had something new to shed light on, I was all for it.
I walked towards the picnic tables in the park we agreed on. Jill heard me when I was behind her, and she turned to face me.
"Are you having sex with Melinda?" she angrily asked.
My hesitance was my answer. Jill hung her head. "What the hell is wrong with this family?" she almost yelled looking back into my face. "It wasn't enough that Tom almost died?"
Overridden with guilt, I simply looked at the ground. She had plenty more to say.
"Mom and Dad know," she stated. "You can expect maximum backlash. Dad is furious. I'm just ashamed. Ashamed of all of you. Especially you, Kurt. You were always the good guy. The one I counted on to do right - to do the right thing."
I started to defend myself, but my sister held her open hand in my face. "I don't want to hear it. I can't talk to you right now." She got off the table and walked away, leaving me standing there. I guess it was time to go home and see how bad things were.
To my surprise, Ashley didn't say a word. It was almost like she'd been left out of the family business. I was sure that wouldn't last and thought about coming clean and then forcing her to do the same. But if she hadn't been intimate with Tom, which I believed she had, I'd look like a fool.
I wouldn't have long to wait. My mother called me just before I went to bed that night, and told me that Ashley and I needed to be at Tom and Melinda's house for dinner the following night at six. I didn't have the strength to argue about it.
I told my wife, probably soon-to-be-ex-wife, and she simply nodded sadly.
Dinner was ready at six sharp. Our table banter was subdued, but the kids filled the gaps. We hadn't all been assembled around the same dinner table for quite some time. After dinner, Melinda poured the wine and we moved into the living room. I knew it was going to hit the fan. Jill came into the living room just as we were getting settled. Mom had put me on the sofa next to Melinda, while Tom sat by Ashley on the loveseat.
"I'm taking the kids for mini-golf and then ice cream," she announced looking at Dad. "How long do you need?"
"That will be fine, honey," he told her. His tone had changed dramatically, since dinner.
"All right," he began, "let's get this shit show started." He purposefully looked around the room, staring at each of us for uncomfortable seconds.
"Tom," he looked at my brother. "I'm shocked and thoroughly ashamed of you. For a man who got a miraculous second chance, I'd expected something far more..." He left it hanging.
Then he turned his attention to me. "And you," he belted out. "You're no better. Your mother and I raised you better, I'd thought." I started to interrupt, and just the look in his eyes, made me pull up short.
He turned his attention to my wife. "Tell me what happened at that lab." His presence overwhelmed the room. Ashley sat with her hands in her lap, head down. She looked smaller and less confident than I'd ever seen her. Finally, she told her story, leaving a few parts out, but not trying to fudge the important parts. Some of it came out in barely a whisper.
He looked back at me after gulping his wine. "And you were planning to divorce her, or work it out?"
"We were trying to work through it, I thought," I replied feebly. "She's been gone so much and we were... I was having problems." He raised an eyebrow. "Sexual... problems."
"I see," he said. "You witnessed that? Ashley and this man?"
I nodded. He turned to Tom, but before he could get started, my brother reached for Ashley's hand and blurted out. "I love her!"
Ashley pulled her hand back. She was aghast, either from the statement or the outburst.
"Since when?" Dad grilled.
"For a long time," he admitted, a little quieter. "I think... this was inevitable."
Dad looked me in the eye. He didn't need to repeat his question. Melinda reached for my hand and squeezed it. "I care for Kurt a great deal," she said with conviction. "And yes, I love him."
I nodded and realized I couldn't leave it there. "Yes, me too."
"Okay," Dad said. "So then, here's what's going to happen. This family has been under a microscope for months now. Ever since the cure, which we're all thankful for. Your mother and me are still getting calls and emails asking us to give our story, or a quote for some article. Even the TV people are still contacting us occasionally."
He took a final swig from his glass and poured some more, offering another glass to Mom. She hadn't said a word, but it was clear they'd discussed this at length. All of us could tell he was being very intentional.
"I will not allow this family to be torn apart," he continued. "Nor destroyed or humiliated. Not while we are in the spotlight. You're all adults, but unless you want your mother and me to disown you, you'll all agree to this, at least until my grandchildren are in their teens.
"I 've had quickie divorces prepared for both of you," he said looking at Tom, then me. "They will need some tweaking because time was short. I expect Tom and Ashley, and Kurt and Melinda to get married immediately after the divorces are final."
Ashley gasped. Tom looked pleased. I just sat there staring at Melinda, and she at me.
Dad was on a roll. "Don't be so surprised. It seems to me, you got to this point all by yourselves, and quite organically, I might add."
He focused on Ashley then. "Ashley, this entire family owes you a debt of gratitude we can never repay. At the same time, you've hurt my son, your husband, unforgivably. My feelings are mixed, as I'm sure his are." He switched gears. "You say this Paxton fellow and the rest of your scientific team knew about what you were doing at the lab with..."
He couldn't remember the name. Ashely and I both finished his sentence at the same time. She said "Dr. Beltran," and I said "asshole." That earned me a dirty look from my wife.
"Well?" Dad asked. Ashley nodded; her face twisted up.
"So, if you don't go along with this," he went on. "I'm sorry, but I'll make everything that happened public knowledge. You can consider it blackmail if you choose, but I'm deadly serious. You started this, and then you've been having sex with Tom since. That doesn't sound to me like a person who wants to work on their marriage."
Ashley flushed. Tom stirred in his seat. For whatever Tom had become, he knew how wrong his actions were. Dad wasn't finished.
"Now," he started again. "I'll leave it to all four of you to come up with an equitable custody arrangement. If you get stuck, then I'll get involved. The children's well-being is paramount. Ashley and Tom, you'll pay Kurt and Melinda for support and maintenance. That may not seem fair, but Ashley started this fiasco, and she makes more money alone, than Kurt and Melinda make. I expect her salary to continue growing for the foreseeable future. Kurt, you, and Melinda will help and support Tom when Ashley is away. This family needs to start healing and being kind and helpful to one another is a good place to start. You've all made incredible mistakes."
I sat there, shell-shocked. I've always respected my father; I'd just never seen him like this. The amount of thought alone, he'd put into keeping his family intact was beyond noble. The fact that he'd been able to put all of us in our places as if we were children ourselves, was something I'll never forget.
He looked at Mom and simply nodded. They got up, and he once more scanned the room. "Now, why don't you split up with your significant other and talk privately? Kurt, take Ashley out onto the back deck and say whatever needs to be said. Your Mother and I will leave you to it."
Everyone was stunned. We all just started going where my father had told us to go. Ashley and I didn't say anything to each other for quite some time.
"Well?" I asked my wife sharply.
"Well, Kurt?" she responded curtly. So, she was going to try and play the victim. I was having none of that.
"What happened to trying to work on our marriage?" I answered with another question. "How many times have you fucked my brother?"
Ashley was one of the smartest people I'd ever met and not just academically. She hung her head, knowing the fight was already over.
"Three," she said despondently. At least she had the sense to look guilty. I wasn't finished yet.
"And how many times has he 'unstuck' you?" I wasn't sure about the grammar but didn't care just then.
"Once," she said. "How many times did you and Melinda do it?"
"Twice," I replied right away. "But only because she was losing her mind with grief, having a pretty good idea what Tom had been up to with you. "The second time, we actually enjoyed ourselves."
She winced as I gave that revelation. I stared at her, looking for something - anything that resembled remorse. I didn't see it.
"You in love with him?" I continued my questioning.
"Maybe," she was very quiet then.
"So, you and me," I asked. "Down the drain over a maybe?"
"Kurt," she stood up straight with a second wind. "I'm sorry, okay. I've fucked up our relationship, I know that. You need to know I'm sorry that I hurt you with my selfishness, not because we were caught. It's not an excuse, but I've been so lonely and stressed - worried we wouldn't make it. The truth is I didn't give us much of a chance anyway. I'm sorry for my lack of faith too. When I came home from RCA I was convinced that I could overcome the mistakes I made, and our marriage would go on - thrive and not just survive. I see how foolish that was now. Both of us being apart has amplified problems I never considered even existed. Standing here, right this moment, I still firmly believe I love you, but I know I'll need to analyze those thoughts and feelings because the way I've treated you and our relationship certainly doesn't show love on my part. Now, it's truly the end of the line, isn't it?"
I nodded. My body mirrored my mood. I was worn out. But I was also relieved, strangely.
"It is," I said stoically. "Especially with the entire family involved, not to mention Dad. He's more worried about Mom and our family's reputation, or maybe legacy. I'm not doing what he says because he wants it, I'm doing it because it's right - he's right. But I'll tell you, here and now, you don't deserve me. That sounds prideful, surely, but I've loved you with all I had to give, was always faithful until a few nights ago, and you shit on me. I better not ever hear that you bad-mouthed me or blamed it on me."
It was her turn to nod. There wasn't anything left to say, and it would be a long time before I could even talk with either one of them without someone else in the room.
Ashley turned back into the house. Tom walked out the door with her minutes later, heading to their new home - my old home. I held Melinda for a long time as we sat lost in our own thoughts.
Epilogue:
Life really is strange.
Melinda and I married quietly on a trip to Las Vegas, just one month after our divorces were final. My parents watched the kids. We've been together for ten years now. I have to say, when you don't start your relationship in a lovestruck manner, there's a deeper appreciation for your partner. Not only did I have to put in the work, but I saw it every day with Melinda too. Still, we were far better suited for one another. I'll never know if Dad saw that, because I don't want to ask.
That first year after the weird swap cemented my relationship with Melinda's children also. With Tom and Ashley on the road often, and with him having been sick or recovering for most of the previous year, the kids were starving for a strong father figure. It was easier for me because I loved them and they were already family in my eyes.
Melinda gave me a daughter of my own, Brittany. My life was full - fuller than it had ever been with Ashley - working my job and fooling myself that I hadn't been living in her shadow. Those fathers that have a fast-paced job, but still must run out the door to go coach Little League or soccer understand.
After a year, Ashley's life settled down and she spent more time at home, working at her actual job. That would give both Tom and Ashley the time to make up with the kids - his kids. But he never did. I supposed after a while that I never really knew my own brother at all. Ashley, I at least understood. She was famous. She'd been touted by any host who'd introduced her, with all sorts of fantastical and fabulous labels. She was among the best of the best. And Tom's kids would most certainly remind her of me. At least that's what my ego kept telling me.
Three years after Ashley had her fun with Beltran, two years and one month after her tryst with Tom was uncovered, and one year and a half after they'd married, Ashley filed for divorce. Melinda and I never really asked about the problems in their marriage, but deep down, I knew Tom wasn't ever going to be Ashley's type. I believe she knew it also, right from the start, but felt she owed our family for what she'd done to me. Even Jill never volunteered information. My wife and I were simply too happy and too busy. Tom eventually became more involved with his children, but it was never the same for any of them.
The last I heard Ashley had taken an executive position at America's Cancer Institute. I didn't stalk her, but she was constantly in the limelight. She went on to invent and patent three other life-saving delivery devices, and she never remarried.
In a way - a very strange way, at that - I have Ashley to thank for my happiness. Okay, my parents too, I guess. That's probably a hindsight thing. She'd developed a "God complex" while at RCA. She'd forgotten the things that should have been important to both of us. Then her fame and fortune drove her into a world all her own. Many would owe her their very lives, while she did her life's work - for the greater good. I'd owe her my happiness, albeit at my own temporary despair.
Life isn't really that strange when everything works out in the end.
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Posted on : Mar 29, 2025
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