Chapter 9

Monday morning was extremely difficult for both Mary and Matt. The young man awoke to the sound of Mary’s activities in the bathroom as she got ready for the day. Memories of what happened the night before were replayed in his mind and, as he mentally re-lived the passionate experiences he had with Mrs. Forrester, he developed a huge hard-on. To make things worse, the bathroom door opened and Mary, wearing a fluffy pink robe, walked into his room.

“Good morning, Matt,” she said, her face reddening a little, making her look even more beautiful in the young man’s opinion.

“Good morning, Mrs. Forrester,” Matt said. He stared at her and found it hard to believe he and she had really made love, even though the memories of doing that were still rushing through his memory.

“I’m all done. You can use the bathroom now, if you want to, Matt,” Mary said. She was painfully aware of the longing look in the eyes of the young man, but forced her tone of voice to remain matter-of-fact. She’d made a horrible mistake the night before, one she could never allow herself to make again. “I’ll have breakfast ready when you get downstairs.”

“I ... I guess Mrs. Forrester doesn’t want to do anything with me again,” Matt thought, dispirited, as he watched her walk out of the room. Disheartened, he showered, dressed and went downstairs. Ricky was already in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal.

“Morning, Matt,” Ricky said.

“Good morning, Rick,” Matt said. He sat down and ate without saying anything. He felt embarrassed sitting there with Ricky, given what he’d done with his friend’s mother the night before.

Mary noticed their guest’s silence, saw the despondency in his eyes, and understood what motivated it. It pained her that there was nothing she could do about it. She had to keep anything more from happening between her and Matt.

When the boys left for school, Mary cleaned up the dishes and began her daily chores. “Have I really made the right decision?” she asked herself as she worked. Mentally, she cataloged all of the reasons she could think of for halting her affair with Matt while at the same time she purposely ignored the reasons for letting it continue.

And, after all, she told herself, she was still married. Tom would be home the next day. It was time she sat him down, talked to him, and tried to get him to see that their marriage was in serious trouble and that they needed to work on putting it back together. She had to.

At school, Matt was having the most miserable day of his life. He moped around, distracted, most of the day. He saw Dianna in the hallway between classes, brightened, and started for her, but she turned and walked away. That only made his mood worse.

Dianna was feeling down, too. She saw Ricky, who acted just like he always had toward her, not like she was something special in his life. When she saw Matt coming toward her in the hall, she remembered what she and Ricky had done in his bedroom and felt guilty. Unable to face him, she turned and walked in the other direction. She had no idea that her action had caused Matt pain.

Supper at Forrester’s that night was as strained as breakfast had been. Matt and Mary were painfully aware of how tense things were between them, but fortunately Ricky was oblivious to the problems between them.

After the meal, Ricky went in to watch TV. Matt went up to his room and Mary did dishes feeling terrible, but determined to stick to her guns and stay away from Matt.

The next morning was little better. The boys got up, ate breakfast, and left for school. Mary got the house cleaned up, then started to prepare dinner. She was going to make Tom’s favorite meal. They were going to put things right in their marriage, she told herself. After all, she loved Tom and he loved her. At least that’s what she kept telling herself, even though she had a hard time convincing herself it was true.

About one o’clock, Tom called from his office. He was back and would be home around six. Mary fought back her disappointment. He could have at least stopped at the house before going to the office.

When dinner time arrived, the boys were there, so Mary didn’t have any time to talk with Tom alone. After dinner, Ricky monopolized his father, telling him about the basketball games he’d missed. Matt, as he had the night before, went up to his room.

Mary went upstairs late in the evening and slipped into a sexy nightgown and filmy robe. Tom came into the room a few minutes later and started to take his clothes off.

“I’m really bushed,” he said, “that was one exhausting trip, let me tell you. And from what I can tell, tomorrow’s going to be just as tough a day at the office.”

Mary experienced a sudden rush of anger. He hadn’t even noticed that she’d put on a sexy outfit for him! She watched her husband walk into the bathroom and heard him begin to brush his teeth. She was fuming. “Damn him!” she thought.

“Tom, we have to talk,” she said when her husband returned from the bathroom.

Tom frowned at her. “Come on, can’t it wait?” he whined, “I’m beat. I really need to get some sleep.”

“No, dammit!” Mary said, “it can’t wait. This is important. Our marriage is a mess.”

Her husband looked shocked. “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked. He sat down on the bed and, wearing a puzzled expression, looked at her.

“You’re gone all the time,” Mary continued, “and when you are here, you hardly talk to me.”

“Come on,” her husband said, “you know I have to travel because of my job. Christ! I never hear you complaining about all the nice things you have because of the money I make because of the business trips I take.”

“Tom, money isn’t all there is to a marriage,” Mary said, “We aren’t close. Our ... our sex life is falling apart. You hardly ever make love to me any more.”

“Whose fault is that?” Tom snapped, his eyes flashing with anger. Apparently she’d touched a nerve. He was starting to yell. “Christ, all you do when I am home is carp about my traveling. How the hell am I supposed to get turned on when you’re on my case all the time?”

“Tom, that’s not true,” Mary replied, hurt by his sharp retort. “I think we need to spend time working on our relationship.”

“Jesus Christ!” Tom said. “You been reading that women’s lib crap, or what? I bust my ass, spend weeks alone in hotel rooms, and this is all the thanks I get?”

“Do you?” Mary asked softly. She hadn’t planned to ask that particular question, it just popped out.

Tom glared at her and asked, “Do I what?”

“Do you spend all those nights in hotel rooms alone?” Mary asked softly. She was angry and didn’t care what she said.

Tom paled a little. “What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped.

Mary looked at her husband whose face was red. “I asked you a question, Tom,” she said. “You haven’t answered it.”

“Goddammit, Mary!” Tom stormed, “I had a goddamn busy trip. I’m tired, I’ve got a busy day ahead of me tomorrow, and I need to get some sleep. I don’t need this shit.”

Matt, unaware the argument was going on in the Forrester’s bedroom, went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. As he stood at the sink, he heard the loud voices in the Forrester’s bedroom and was scared. Had Mr. Forrester found out what he’d done with Mrs. Forrester? He edged closer to the door that opened into the master bedroom.

“I asked you a question, Tom,” Mary said, fighting to keep her tone calm, and to keep from yelling.

“What do you want from me?” her husband yelled. “You want me to admit I’m cheating on you?”

“Are you?” Mary said softly. She realized her voice was quavering. She wanted to know and she didn’t.

“What would you do if I said I was?” Tom asked. “You want to tell me that?”

“You haven’t answered my question,” Mary said.

“I don’t have to put up with this shit!” her husband yelled.

“Tom! Matt is in the guest bedroom, he might hear you,” Mary warned.

“You know, I really don’t give a shit whether he hears me or not!” Tom said.

Matt heard the bedroom door slam, then someone - probably Mr. Forrester - was stomping down the stairs. He heard Mrs. Forrester begin to sob and wanted to go in and comfort her, but was afraid her husband would come back and catch them. Instead, he went back to bed and laid there a long time, trying to figure out what this latest development meant.

Mary lay in her bed sobbing and, as she did, she decided Tom’s reaction to her question was as good as an admission of guilt. Getting confirmation that her husband was cheating on her hurt, but she was surprised that it didn’t hurt more. What now? Was there any chance they could put their marriage back together? She couldn’t see how. Tom certainly didn’t seem interested in doing that. Why didn’t the possibility that her marriage might be over bother her more than it did?

Tom Forrester spent the night sleeping on the sofa and was walking out the door when Mary came down to start making breakfast.

“Aren’t you going to have breakfast, Tom?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” her husband growled in reply. “You think I want to hang around and take more abuse from you?”

“Suit yourself,” Mary said. She found she really didn’t care whether he stayed for breakfast or not and was surprised she wasn’t more upset.

Her husband turned, went out the door, and slammed it behind him. She heard his car engine roaring and tires squealing as he left the driveway, obviously still angry.

Mary stood at the kitchen counter and looked out the window. Her marriage was over. She was almost positive of that. She had no idea what direction her life would take from this point, but she knew as sure as she was standing there looking out her back window, that Tom would no longer be a part of it. At least not as her husband. She shrugged and started making breakfast. She had two young men to feed.

“Where’s Pop?” Ricky asked when he came into the kitchen a few minutes later.

“Ah ... he ... he had to go to work early,” Mary said. How would Ricky react when he found out his parents were splitting up? That was the only part of what was happening that bothered Mary. She loved her son and didn’t want to hurt him, but it looked like there was no longer any choice. The only thing she had in her favor was that Ricky was young and strong, he’d get over it. He had to.