Chapter 4

I felt someone lifting me up and supporting most of my weight as I struggled back to consciousness.

“What ... What happened?” I mumbled.

“As soon as you saw Melody, you collapsed,” Belinda said softly.

She helped me into the house, easing me down into my favorite chair in the living room. The rest of the group filed into the room and took seats on the couch. We... I had a large sectional that was big enough to let everyone sit comfortably.

Belinda disappeared and returned with a bottle of water from the fridge and a cold cloth. She reclined my chair a little. and put the cloth on my forehead. She uncapped the bottle of water and fed me a few sips. Mrs. Weaver took the bottle from her and wiped down my face with the washcloth as I calmed down from my run and the shock of seeing her there. She fed me another sip as if worried I’d spill it if she let me take it for myself.

When they’d given me a few moments to recover, Belinda started.

“I have to apologize to you, Rand,” she said. “We’ve found that quite often, people jump into a rebound relationship after a divorce. It becomes extremely awkward for all involved and it’s disrupted the group a couple of times - even in the short time I’ve been here. So, when you asked for my help to redecorate the house here to minimize the reminders of your wife, I was afraid you were getting attached to me. I didn’t want to disrupt the group here for either of us. I still need it very much, and I think you do, too. We all want to be here for you as friends. We lean on each other for support. For some of us, it’s the most important thing we have in our lives.”

I nodded, not wanting to talk, not trusting myself to speak in this surrealistic nightmare. After that, we went around the room, introducing ourselves. They were Jason, Claire, Stephanie, Theresa (“sometimes they call me Terri”), Belinda and Melody. Jason was about 40, and a little on the heavy side. Claire was an older woman but had worked hard to keep herself looking stellar. I couldn’t tell if she was 40 or a very well-maintained 50. Stephanie was a typical housewife. She was in her thirties with a few extra pounds and a few worry lines, but still with enough youth in her eyes to show that she was full of life. Theresa was a beautiful African-American that I suspected might have a touch of Asian heritage from her slightly tilted, exotic eyes. Belinda, I’d been getting to know, and Melody Weaver’s story was so well known to me that I was overwhelmed when I recognized her.

I nodded to everyone. “I’m Rand,” I said, finally.

“Now that Bella’s got you here, why don’t you tell us your story, Rand,”

“Bella?”

“Inside the group everyone calls me Bella. It’s an old family nickname that only my friends use.”

Claire prompted gently. She was clearly the matriarch of the group from the way they all looked up to her. I looked around at the six of them and sighed.

“You already know my story,” I told them. “If Mrs. Weaver is here, then she’s already told you most of it.”

They looked back and forth at each other and then Belinda got it and gasped.

“I don’t understand,” Claire said. “Melody hasn’t ever mentioned you.”

I shook my head.

“She’s told you her story, though,” I said. “Her husband. My wife. Same affair.”

“Dear God!” Stephanie gasped. “No wonder you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

For her part, Melody patted my hand and smiled at me comfortingly.

“Why don’t you tell it from your perspective, Mr. Dunn,” she suggested. “I’d like to know how it happened for you.”

I nodded and supposed I owed it to her. I started with being diagnosed with the Clap and realizing that my wife had to have been the one to give it to me. I went through all of it, not glazing over the thoughts I’d had of using my shotgun to get revenge, seeing my wife covered in bite marks that had come from her boss, the revelations that she didn’t love me and considered us to be friends more than lovers, the lawsuits, the assault at Angela’s office and, finally, the divorce.

“She packed what she wanted in the SUV and drove to the lawyer’s office to sign the papers, so that she’d never have to set foot in this house after the divorce was signed,” I said.

I told them about seeing pictures from parties that she was invited to return to town for, but that I was excluded from, her empty promises of friendship, the drifting out of my life; but leaving me so crippled that I’d had trouble even speaking to people.

“One of the women in Belinda’s morning class thought I was deaf,” I told them. “I was just so ... devastated that I walked through each day in a fog. It was like the few times I got really high in college, except without the euphoria. It was just the detached, slow way I processed everything, you know?”

That got some nods.

“I think that’s totally understandable,” Theresa said. “You got blindsided by the cheating and then everything else was done so fast that you’re still finding your way. You said you found out in July? Fuck, your divorce lawyer must have a magic wand!”

“Angela Price,” I said softly. “I wouldn’t cross her. She pulled out a taser and put Stan Weaver face-down into the carpet while he was beating me unconscious.”

That got an appreciative nod from most of the others.

“I wish I could have seen that,” Melody said with some venom.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, she kept giving him the juice while she yelled at his lawyer about the attack,” I told her. “I think she scared him, too. He wasn’t nearly as defiant when we met to sign the papers.”

She smiled thinly.

“That’s part of my story,” she said smugly. “Don’t you ever think that he got off easy. A couple of days before he went to sign the papers, he was diagnosed with prostate cancer. They tried surgery, which rendered him permanently incapable of getting an erection. The surgery didn’t catch it all, though. Stan might make it through Christmas, but he won’t make it to Valentine’s Day. The bastard was cheating on me on a regular basis with three women. Your wife was the only married one, but one of his other whor ... uh, conquests, gave him gonorrhea. He gave it to the other two and then he brought it home to me. You and I were the only innocent victims. Can I ask one question though?”

I nodded, and she continued. “You and your wife stayed together until after the lawsuits were settled. I looked into suing your wife for the same alienation of affection, but Stan’s lawyer laughed and said I was too late. What did he mean?”

I smiled a little. “We got our settlements from Stan, and then I got most of her settlement in the divorce. She asked for enough to start over in Atlanta and the rest came to me.”

She nodded thoughtfully at that. “Well done,” she said. “Can I tell Stan that?”

I blinked and barked a surprised laugh.

“I suppose so. Why?”

“I didn’t divorce him. I married him right out of high school a year ago in June. Our prenuptial agreement said I’d get nothing from the divorce, so I stuck around. I put him in hospice, and I visit him when I have news that I think will make his last days worse. I want to tell him about meeting you and tell him that his lover got almost nothing out of the divorce. You got all his money.”

I chuckled at that and nodded.

“Melody, you can tell him anything you want,” I assured her.

“Oh, I’ll hold you to that,” she said. “Before we leave tonight, I’m going to kiss you, just so I can tell him that I did. I’m also gonna be your decorating buddy if you’ll let me. I want to tell him that I’ve been in your bedroom, even if it’s completely innocent.”

There was a round of laughter in the room that held an underlying edge of malice. We each wanted to punish our ex with the knowledge that they’d lost to their nemesis. Belinda spoke up again at that point.

“Melody,” she said sternly. “What did we just talk about? Rebound relationships are a terrible idea.”

“So, who said anything about a rebound?” she said lightly. “We also have a rule about bullying people that aren’t ready to talk yet and all six of us broke that rule tonight, didn’t we?”

“That was different,” she insisted. “I could tell that Rand was in distress and he wasn’t listening. This wasn’t bullying; it was an intervention.”

“Bella,” Claire said judiciously. “I think this particular circumstance is unique. These aren’t two people who randomly met here. They’re the survivors of the same tragedy. I would hope they’ll be responsible enough to part amicably if things don’t work, but we all come together like this because we understand. We’re all going through the same pain. Melody and Rand aren’t just suffering from the same type of pain, they’re suffering from the same event. I think, in this case, we should be supportive and hope that they heal each other, even if they don’t complete each other.”

Belinda bit her lip and nodded.

“Fair enough,” she allowed. “I’m just worried, after what happened last time.”

Claire nodded again and smiled.

“I know. I worry too, but I’m a romantic at heart. In my line of work, I have to be. If there’s ever been a more providential turn of events to bring two people together, I have yet to read about it, see it on the silver screen, or hear the tale spun any other way. Trust me when I say that I’ve read a lot of high romance and a shameful amount of the low ones too.” She smiled a little. “I, for one, would like to see them both have a chance to poke at their exes, whether it blossoms into romance or not.”

By that point, I was feeling a lot more comfortable and a fair bit steadier, so I got up and excused myself to make coffee. I was setting up the coffee maker when Melody came into the kitchen.

“Are you doing okay?” she asked quietly. “I really did give you a shock when I spoke to you earlier.”

“I am. I’m very glad you’re here. I wanted to talk to you during all of the theatrics, but I wasn’t sure how you’d react. I mean, I was suing your husband and my wife was one of his whor ... uh, conquests. You’d have every right to be outraged that I’d even approach you, let alone speak to you.”

I smiled at that to let her know I didn’t hold it against her that she thought of Beth as Stan’s whore.

“That’s very thoughtful of you. I was furious with him for cheating on me and humiliated at how powerless I was to do anything to punish him. I was really glad that he lost the lawsuits. He had to sell most of the property he gobbled up through the foreclosures. He kept the savings and loan, but most of his other investments are going to pay for his medical treatments. When he finally does the decent thing and stops breathing valuable air, I’ll have the house and the condo in Miami and the business. I’m already entertaining offers for the savings and loan. I don’t want to run it and I’d rather sell to the competition than have them run me out of business.”

I nodded, and we chatted some more while the coffee brewed. She was standing very close to me and was lightly touching my arm. I gazed into her eyes and found myself drawn into them. She seemed to sense that conversation was lost for the moment and her lips curled up into a slight smile. She was a vision, and I couldn’t imagine a valid reason for Stan to cast her aside for Beth. Beth was pretty, but Melody was beauty personified. Her eyes were ice blue with a startlingly dark blue ring at the edge of her irises. Her blonde hair was as straight as an arrow and flowed over her delicate shoulders like a perfect golden waterfall. She was tall and lithe and proportioned like a model. Every inch of her screamed for adoration and I was adoring.

She was still touching my arm and I took her hand in mine, lifting it to my lips, I lightly kissed her fingertips, holding them against my lips like I’d never felt anything more divine in my life. The playful look on her face faded to an expression of serious passion. I understood what Beth meant about that feeling fading between us, because there was something so unfamiliar in seeing excitement in Melody’s eyes that I knew it had been years since I’d seen that look in Beth’s eyes, if I ever really had seen it there to begin with.

One of us closed the distance, and then we were kissing. It was like waking up from the effects of one of the Valium that Dr. Sebastian had prescribed for me. I could feel the fog fading and I felt... right. I was where I belonged, where I was wanted and that was a feeling I hadn’t had in a long time. I don’t know how long we were there, but I heard Claire ask where the cups were. I pointed to the right cupboard and she left us alone, making several trips into the living room to deliver coffee. There was some quiet laughter and some conversation that was only a dull murmur to us in the kitchen as we stood there, in each other’s arms. I’d say that we were lost in each other, but we were really found in that moment, standing there in the kitchen.

Eventually, we came up for air and we gasped for breath, still holding onto each other. She rested her head against my chest and trembled. Then she giggled, getting more and more manic as she lost control of herself, laughing uncontrollably. I held her, and finally she got hold of herself.

“Do I get to know the joke?” I asked with a smile.

I was certain that she wasn’t laughing at me. She nodded and grinned up at me.

“Let’s get our coffee and rejoin the others,” she said brightly.

We poured ourselves a cup each and doctored it to our own personal tastes before we returned to the living room.

“They’re still dressed,” Stephanie said triumphantly. “You owe me a dollar, Jason.”

He looked disappointed and handed over his lost wager.

“Easy come...” he said with a wry shrug.

Melody pushed me down into my chair and then climbed into my lap and curled up there like it was her normal spot.

“I need to tell you all something,” she said sweetly, drawing their attention and mine. She looked up at me and grinned. “Rand’s wife is a moron.”