Four Friends

“But did it... Well, you know... Did it damage your masculinity?”

He laughed. “I didn’t have that much experience with my masculinity,” he said.

“But you were an older guy and—”

She stopped. I’m having this conversation with my kitchen carpenter, she thought, internally appalled. Yet she couldn’t help it. His take on this was fascinating.

“Nah,” was all he said.

“Did you ever hear from her again?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, all the time,” he said. “Once or twice a year now, at least. She’s with someone now, very happy. They’ve been together quite a while. They’d like to have a child together. In fact, I was offered the job, but I declined. They both like me,” he said with a lovable, almost mischievous grin. “She’s still just the nicest, sweetest girl. She always thinks to ask me how I am. And I’m the same as before.”

“Wow,” Andy said. And I thought he was an ordinary workman with an ordinary life. But there was something about him that, in all its simplicity, was deep. Thoughtful.

“Doesn’t she want a divorce?” Andy heard herself ask.

“I think it’s kind of irrelevant,” he said.

“Well, how do you know? You might meet someone someday.”

“Aw, I sort of doubt that. A little late in the game for me. But I have her phone number. If I called her and said something about that, there wouldn’t be a problem. We had an agreement when she left—real simple and nonlegal, you know. The date of the split, the assets—which were as close to zero as you can get. I scrounged up a couple thousand dollars to help her get on her feet and she was so grateful for that. We’re good.”

“You gave her money, too?” Andy asked.

“Well, she had to have some walking-around money. It’s not easy to start over, especially around here.”

“Bob, I think you’re pure gold.”

“Me? Nah, anyone would’ve done that. Like I said, she’s a real sweet girl. I’m just so glad to know she’s okay.” He looked at her closely. “Understand?”

All she could think was, I want to be like you. That pure. So undamaged even though he’d gone through a potentially devastating experience. “Sounds like you’ve completely forgiven her. For lying to you, for trying to have a straight life at your expense.”

“Mrs....Andy, it didn’t cost me anything to forgive her for that. I just assume everyone is doing the best they can. Besides, she’s a good person.” He looked at her and asked. “How are you getting along since...you know.”

“Since the TV and motorcycle went away?” she asked with a laugh. “I’m still kind of numb, I guess, because I haven’t had much of a reaction. My son was relieved—he hadn’t been getting along with my husband too well the past couple of years. And I know this is going to sound kind of silly, but it’s nice you’re working here. Makes me feel less alone.”

“Yeah, that’s the hard part. All of a sudden, alone. My wife, she might’ve been a lesbian, but she was, most of all, a great friend. We had a lot to talk about every day.”

“Well, I’m used to being alone. Bryce traveled in his job so he was gone several nights a week, anyway. And when he was in town, he wasn’t the homebody type—he was more the party-boy type. Thus the divorce.”

“I’m awful sorry, Andy.”

“Thanks,” she said. She got herself a refill of wine. “I’m going back to my room to watch TV—holler if you need me. In fact, I’m going to invite Beau if that’s all right?”

“He’s probably got sawdust and stuff on him.”

“I’ll ask him to shake. Beau. Wanna watch some CNN for a while?” Beau got to his feet and wagged his tail. “That’ll be nice,” she said to Bob. “A guy I can trust on the bed, watching TV with me.”

“You enjoy him. He can be a real good friend.”

“You can come and find him when you’re done. I’m not going to bed or anything. I’m only in the bedroom because it’s quiet...and there’s no TV in the family room.”

Three hours later Bob knocked softly on the bedroom door, which stood ajar about an inch, and Andy sat up with a start. Beau was sitting upright on the bed, wagging and making a noise that was a combination whine and moan. “Come in,” she called.

Bob gingerly pushed the door open and Beau bolted off the bed to go to him. “He make a good TV buddy?”

“He put me to sleep,” she said. She stretched. “That was great.”

“It’s his best trick. See you tomorrow night.”

“Thanks,” she said. That might be one of the kindest men I’ve ever known, she thought. Too bad he’s...Bob.

three

GERRI BOOKED HERSELF and Phil for three emergency sessions with a crisis counselor. She chose a woman she’d used through CPS, a woman she thought was very good even though her instincts said if her heart was in it, she’d have selected a man who could understand Phil. But she didn’t want Phil to get understanding—she wanted his head on a pike. And at this point, Phil would’ve taken counseling from Gerri’s mother had she been alive, he was that accommodating, that beaten down with guilt and remorse...and hope. He would do anything to make this go away.

She scheduled them for three evenings running, from two days following his apologetic admission. They told the kids they had meetings. She had no idea what he had to say at the prosecutor’s office to leave work on time for a change. She secretly hoped he had to say, “I cheated on my wife and if I don’t go to counseling with her right now, I’m getting thrown out of the house.” She wanted him to feel her pain. His claims of great guilt and remorse weren’t doing much for her.

But he made it home on time to go with her. They held it together pretty well during the session. Phil seemed to struggle but tried to answer the counselor’s questions. Gerri thought, for a prosecutor, he’d make a lousy witness. Judges wouldn’t accept answers like, “I don’t know what I was thinking, what I was looking for,” or, “There wasn’t anything missing in my marriage that I was trying to make up for, I was just extremely tempted and I failed.”

As was typical of marriage counseling, the real bloodletting and fireworks came later, after the session. Usually in the car on the way home, probably to the great entertainment of cars passing by.

“She’s trying to get me to fight it out with you, take shots at your choice of sleepwear as the thing that drove me to it,” Phil said.

“She’s just saying it wasn’t the affair, it’s what was going on in our marriage,” Gerri fired back.

“Bullshit! There wasn’t anything going on in our marriage that hasn’t been going on for over ten years! It was the same! It’s always been a busy marriage, one full of pressure, stressful jobs, kids, horrible schedules, tight budgets. And you’re not asking me if the marriage has been satisfactory lately. It’s been the same!”

“If I asked, you’d say whatever you had to because now you’re scared you’re going to lose everything!”

“I was always afraid of losing everything! She’s trying to get me to say I’m just a little boy who wanted to come my brains out!”

“Well, didn’t you say as much? Isn’t that what ‘extremely tempted’ means?” Gerri railed.

“I’m saying I don’t know why! Seven years ago, for whatever reason, I didn’t have much willpower, much restraint. I never once thought, ‘Gerri’s not putting out so this is okay.’ I had accepted how we were.”

“Accepted how we were? You’re blaming me!”

“Jesus, I’m blaming us! I knew this was going to come back and bite me in the ass, but I couldn’t help myself—I was tempted because it felt too goddamn good to have someone actually tempted by me! You and the counselor want to hear me claim you’re a frigid wife, that I’m just an irresponsible asshole! Goddamn it, Gerri, I’m not a player. I have never been a player.”

“You son of a bitch,” she blustered at him. “Like it was my fault! Not wanting you enough!”

“Come on, don’t go there,” he said meanly. “You know as well as I do that for the past ten years, sex in our bed is rare at best. We’d have to get sex therapy to get up to once a month!”

“I know it’s real rare for you to make any effort!”

“How many no, thank yous do you think a husband can get before he figures out that’s not on the agenda?”