Chapter 2

“Where?” Cheryl asked Joe when he called her at her work at the law firm the next day.

“You remember that pub...”

“Rolling Stone. Of course.”

“Six?”

“Sure.”

She still took his breath away when she strolled in ten minutes late. Even with the darkened glasses, a necessary encumbrance that tended to hide her beauty, at least the glasses part. The darkened part was new.

“Sorry,” she sighed, plopping down.

“I wasn’t worried,” he said. “I am now. Could you take off your glasses?”

Before she did, a waiter arrived. Menus remained closed on the table. “Another stout,” Joe said.

“A single malt, straight up,” Cheryl ordered. “Whichever you like best. With a soda back.”

“You know what you want?” Joe asked.

“Fish and chips,” Cheryl smiled. “With a house salad. House dressing.”

“I’ll have the shepherd’s pie,” Joe added.

When the waiter left, Cheryl removed her glasses. “Afraid of bruises?” she smirked.

“I don’t know what I was afraid of. Rhonda suggested I should call you. Thankfully no bruises or scars. But you don’t look happy.” In fact he could see her eyes looked slightly red and puffy. And lines etched out. Subtle frown lines radiating from her mouth as well.

“I don’t know what I am, Joe. I fucking lied to Nick about meeting you. Told him I had a meeting here. With a Rolling Stone editor.”

“Doesn’t sound like you.”

“It doesn’t sound like us, Joe. I’m fucking suspicious he’s cheating. Or maybe it’s just my old slut ways projecting.”

“Is he being suspicious?”

“Evenings working. Hot young associates and paralegals.”

“Bill?”

“Retired.”

“You know he’d do anything for you.”

“Without the usual reward.”

“He wouldn’t care.”

“Maybe I would. Maybe Nick’s right to be jealous, if just for my thoughts.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

They paused when the waiter brought them drinks. Cheryl tasted the whiskey, drank some of the soda and poured the whiskey in. Both she and Joe laughed. “Such a philistine,” Cheryl smirked.

Joe shook his head.

“You’re already on your second glass?” Cheryl asked.

“I got here early.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Please go on.”

Cheryl sighed. “You know why I didn’t go to yours and Essie’s wedding?”

“It would have made you uncomfortable.”

“Are you kidding? Essie’s my favorite person in the world!”

“But she married me.”

“Finally!” They laughed. “I guess I did her a favor divorcing you.”

“Never think that, Cheryl. She loves you too. And misses you.”

“Me too.”

“So why... ?”

“I ... I guess I felt like I slighted her. Ostracized her. Disappointed her.”

“She understood you wanted a clean break from me. You still could have called her.”

“Nick insisted I didn’t go to the wedding. Insisted I severed the connection to you.”

“Including any reminder? Friends and lovers?”

“Yes.”

“Including our kids?”

She sniffled. “Yes.”

“Fuck!”

“It’s my fault.”

“How could it possibly be your fault?”

“Because ... It’s like with us. Everything on the table. It’s why ... I decided I could be monogamous with him. Easy honest conversations.”

“About everything?”

“No. I mean it actually started with me explaining ... or trying to explain my life with you and my wives and lovers. And he brought up his several unsatisfying relationships. It was like both of us were seeking a solution. Him with someone he could feel ... right with. Feel a deeper kind of connection. Me wanting to become ... singular I guess. Simpler. Exclusive.”

“Monogamous.”

“With a person I could completely share things with, like we always had. One on one sharing instead of sharing ... well ... everything. And it was like how we were, without the several distractions. An endless, unstoppable conversation that neither of us ever wanted to stop. And in the morning, I felt the same pull I felt for you. That it could be physical, too, the connection we felt, and therefore complete.”

“And was it?”

“Yes. Despite being up all night talking, he was patient. And then relentless.”

“And after? When you were with me?”

“You remember.”

“I do. Hard to forget the moment you lose your soulmate. You looked...”

“Exhausted.”

“And satisfied. You slept, alone, into the afternoon. Then, when you awoke, we talked. And for the first time I realized I wasn’t enough for you. The sating gone. The glow. The happiness.”

“We spent the rest of the day and night together,” Cheryl said.

“And the next with our wives and Essie. Saying goodbye.”

“Not exactly. I didn’t know then if it was just a night.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Obviously. But ... he didn’t want to hear about that ... process. He didn’t want to talk about sex, at least in the past tense. Our fantasies, yes. What we wanted at the moment. And everything else. Still effortless and honest and connected, minus that one thing. Nick put a wall there. A wall that became a lot more real when we got married.”

“And you agreed.”

“It made sense. It’s not like our love had faded, Joe, like with almost every couple. Or with Li or Essie. Maybe Moe.”

“Moira began leaving us years ago.”

“Probably. I think it was more Chandi wanting to be with you. They both love you, but maybe Chandi loves you more now.”

“It’s been a while...”

“I don’t think that matters. I think my leaving you just gave Moe the excuse she needed, luring Chandi back to Barbados. Encouraging her to teach at Bridgetown, where her specialty would be most appreciated and accepted.”

“If you say so. But the kids...”

“They have better mothers than I ever was.”

“Bullshit. You’ve always been great with the kids.”

“Have I? I can be playful and mischievous, but I really never had the patience to discipline them or soothe their sores or their sorrows. Or even sustain the playfulness. Only Essie could I say I was in any way a decent mother. And that’s because it never got old with her. Even as a kid, we could relate.”

“When you saw Rhonda...”

“That was a surprise.”

“Was it ... you reuniting... ?”

“I realized how much I missed my brilliant not so little girl,” she sniffled. “But she was there for business. I asked about her brother, and she told me. Tersely. I asked about you and she essentially told me, politely, coldly really, to go fuck myself.”

“Did she ask how you were?”

“In the end. If I was happy with Nick. I don’t think she believed me when I told her I was.”

“Are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if Nick makes you happy?”

“It’s not a simple yes or no. Sometimes?”

“Generally?”

Cheryl sighed. “It’s like this deep pool of friendship, deepened by so many conversations about so many things. Everything except that wall. He has one too. I mean he’s an adventurous lover, and seems to have a vast background in it. Well-practiced, you know? It’s one thing I miss most. Bringing something new into our lovemaking, Joe. It made it more fun and more exciting when we talked about it or especially when we relived the source of it. And he has been full of surprises. As young as he is, it makes me wonder how precocious he was. How early he started having sex. Or if he landed a lover or two who were voracious and imaginative. That first talk he mentioned how sex had never been a problem in his relationships except for it becoming everything it was about. I suppose, like we did, beginning with a night of conversation solidified what makes a relationship finally work for him. Of course I already knew that, with you.”

“It’s definitely key,” Joe said. “And it’s what made my relationship with you strongest. Because the first conversation never really ended. The flow and ease and honesty remained. The most and best of any I’ve ever had.”

“I know Joe. There’s that connectedness between Nick and I that enrichens our relationship. All those conversations weave us together, understanding each other, conjoining. In fact it leads to actual conjoining, or surrounds it, making it all the more profound.”

“So you’ve had all those deep, resonant, profound times together. I imagine just a glance and a smile would resonate. And knowing at the end of the day, it’ll just be you two together...”

“Should make me happy. And it does. Sometimes. Other times ... More and more ... There’s these silences. Like there’s nothing more to say. On his part more than mine I think. I find myself talking and wondering if I’m really just talking to myself, if he’s actually listening. And the happiest times ... more and more it ties to sex. Which, unfortunately, isn’t nearly as frequent as it was, and trending towards the infrequent. But when we have sex, the conversations happen. Between. After. And it’s like that well fucked glow sustains me for the day, you know?

“And then the infrequency makes me worry. I know exactly what a sexual creature he is. He’s young and handsome and confident and successful. He’s as much a flirt as I am. Of course I used to more than just flirt. Does he? And it’s made me realize by not talking about our past lovers...”

“Maybe the present ones are excluded too,” Joe finished.

He saw her eyes tear up. “It was inevitable wasn’t it?” she muttered. “Exactly what we used to talk about, when we talked about other relationships. Monogamy breeds cheating.”

“I don’t know if it’s inevitable, Cheryl. But...”

“Temptation and attractiveness makes it more likely.”

“How jealous is he? I mean besides him keeping you from me?”

Cheryl nodded. “A conversation at a party turns into me wanting go off and fuck some guy.”

“Could it be because he would if he had the chance? I mean with a girl of course.”

“Trust was the original agreement. It came out of both of us finding the mate we supposedly wanted. The love we felt for each other, the perfect synthesis of mental and physical, it’s what we both sought and found in each other. With it being just him for me. Not sharing that love with anyone else, and loving those others as well. Fuck I miss Essie. And Li. And Shawn. I think with his supposedly loveless relationships, just shallow sexual liaisons, he probably gave up the several for the one as well. But...”

“It was never just about sex with any of us,” Joe said.

“I gave up friendship too,” Cheryl nodded.

“But I can’t help thinking about his old relationships,” Joe said carefully. “I mean, you’re well aware of my philosophy, and maybe he just never subscribed, but I can’t imagine having any kind of lasting sexual relationship without having some non-physical intimacy. I mean, you’d think at least he’d liked the girl. I can’t imagine him with prostitutes. Being young, good looking, confident and sexually able, he definitely didn’t need to pay for it. But it sounds like he treated them as if they were. And not even the girlfriend experience type. Maybe he fetishized them as such. But ... it just doesn’t make sense.”