Chapter 17

tap tap tap TAP tap tap, tap

Torrents pummeled windows; a deafening counterpoint to the contemplative silence of long-forgotten coffee.

tap tap tap TAP tap tap, tap

Wind whipped through trees, whistling and wounding; its fullest fury angrily flinging leaves and limbs to the ground.

tap tap tap TAP tap tap, tap

A plate of scrambled eggs congealed. Abandoned, untouched, ignored. A metaphor.

tap tap tap TAP tap tap, tap

Fingers drummed a table, mimicking a cadence that obliterated a mind.

tap tap tap TAP tap tap, tap

A beating heart, the pulse of an artery, the slow-motion blink of an eye.

That I’m in love with you, Luke.

A cluster of leaves held together by splintered and bleeding wood slammed into the window, peering into his silence for a sodden and desperate moment, before falling to the ground and beginning the long march towards death.

tap tap tap TAP tap tap, tap

She’s still alone. This weather has to have delayed his flight, which means he won’t be back until late this afternoon, or maybe even this evening. If it keeps up like this, he might not be able to land at all. We could be together right now, if she wanted. He paused, considering. Or if I wanted. Then reconsidering. No, that’s the wrong thing to do. She finally acknowledged that she loves me, but she also said she loves him. I don’t think her confession changes that. Which means I can’t just go over there and claim her. She’s not mine to claim. Only to win, though even then...

He took a sip of his tepid coffee, frowned at its bitterness, then rose to press the microwave into service. How long have I been sitting here?

The storm howled and moaned. He smiled at an aural memory. The sulfurous stench of room temperature eggs tickled his nose. Shaking his head, he added them to the reheating queue.

She’s not mine, but she’s not his, either. Not exclusively. Not anymore.

The microwave beeped. He exchanged the eggs for a steaming cup of caffeinated velocity.

Does that mean she’s ours? What if one of us doesn’t want to share? Or what if she doesn’t want to be shared? What then?

He took a sip, physically satisfied but existentially troubled. The coffee was a pale shadow of what it had once been, but it no longer mattered.

I know what I feel, I know what she feels, I’m pretty sure I know what Bill feels, but I don’t know what any of us wants. It’s not as easy as fantasizing that she and I could just run away together, assuming that she’d even agree to that plan. I don’t know that I have it in me to pry her away from him, or to make her love him less, though if I don’t that may mean I’ve already envisioned the end of my dream. There are no simple paths forward, only painful choices. Everyone will suffer, and some more than others. Which means Wendy was right all along. So what should I do?

The reheated eggs were, inevitably, overcooked. He sighed, splashed some hot sauce across their surface, and ate them anyway. Perfectly cooked eggs are something I can usually do in my sleep, but apparently not while lost in a haze of newly discovered love.

tap tap tap TAP tap tap, tap

Focus remained elusive. He eschewed his morning workout; the punishing tempest would have restricted him to the gym, and he felt sure that seeing Kathryn, even in passing, was more than either of them were emotionally prepared for. The rarest of all luxuries — rolling over and sleeping in — was briefly considered and easily rejected, for his thoughts were as turbulent as the thick clouds unleashing their rage upon the earth. But when he finally opened his laptop to begin work, he was too distracted to concentrate on the task for which he’d been hired. Thinking about buying wine for Kathryn made it impossible for him to stop thinking about her. About them. Instead, he plowed through a backlog of email, professional and otherwise, then picked up his phone and thumbed an interrogatory text to Wendy. About twenty minutes later, his phone rang.

“Is it Armageddon where you are?”

“Storms in the city are weirdly marvelous. Surely you haven’t forgotten.”

“I haven’t.”

“What’s it like out there?”

“More stormy than marvelous.”

“Of course.”

“Still sleeping it off?”

“I could ask you the same question, but the answer’s a non-literal yes. Anyway, why are you talking to me when you could be buried between that marvelous vixen’s luscious thighs?”

“Bill’s coming home today.”

“In this weather?”

“Well, at least in theory. She doesn’t want to...”

“ ... fuck both of you on the same day? Yeah, I get that. It must be hard enough to remember whose name to cry out while she’s coming.”

“That’s not nice.”

“Maybe she could kill two lovebirds with one stone and holler out mine. Wouldn’t that be interesting? Anyway, you idiot, I wasn’t calling her a slut.”

“It kinda sounded like you were.”

“No, I’m just saying that it’s hard. I’ve done it, I’ve messed it up, and I’ve paid the price. But I was only banging more than one girl, not trying to have multiple meaningful relationships at the same time. What she’s doing is a hell of a lot more intense, and the consequences of a mistake could be pretty severe. I know it’s hard to think about consequences when you’re getting your rocks off with your horny redheaded Aphrodite, but take a moment to appreciate what that effort costs her.”

“You’re right, I should.”

“Not that I have all that much sympathy.”

“Now you’re being mean again.”

“No, kid, just pointing out the simple truth. You didn’t force her into this. This was her choice. She made her beds. Now she has to get laid in them.”

“Clever.”

“I do amuse myself. Speaking of which, you’re late.”

“Late? Late for what?”

“I just got off the phone with her. It’s why I took a while to get back to you. And yes, that means I knew you weren’t actually with her at the moment.”

“I feel so violated. So what did you two talk about?”

“Nice fishing expedition, doofus. You’d make a terrible spy. The answer is: everything but you.”

“I didn’t mean...”

“Yes you did. You’re a man, hence you’re self-centered. No, no, don’t worry, your name might have come up once or twice. Anyway, the conversation we’re about to have in which you ask if I enjoyed the sex, how I feel about you ... because you’re self-centered, remember? ... in the aftermath, and all that crap? She beat you to it, loser.”

“Wendy, I’m sorry, I just wasn’t sure...”

“I’m teasing you, slowpoke. Jesus, you’re way too fucking earnest these days. The truth is that I’m glad you waited, and this morning was the perfect amount of waiting. She just got off her sexy ass before you did.”

“Yeah. Well, I’m sorry anyway. I’ve had kind of a draggy morning.”

“I can imagine. She make your dick fall off yet?”

“Well ... there was that, yeah. But there are other reasons.”

She stayed silent as long as she could, waiting for him to continue, before barking an impatient, “Well?”

“Sorry. This sort of daydreaming is why I got a late start, and I’m still thinking it all through. Anyway, I’m going to annoy you by leaving that conversation for later, because I know you’ll have a lot to say about it. And you’re right: I do want to start with you, or actually with us. We’re good, right? Has anything changed, for better or for worse?”

“If you say anything about sickness and health, I’m going to drive out there and put a foot through your larynx.”

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“Yeah, right. Like I’d marry you anyway. You’re way too boring for me.”

“That’s probably true. Can I assume from the way you’re mocking me that everything’s fine?”

“Everything’s fine, Luke. You can stop fretting about your emotionally damaged dick-loving lesbian pal. In case it wasn’t obvious the other night, I can take a pounding.”

“Wendy, I wasn’t...”

“I’m serious, Luke. I’m fine. We’re fine too, unless you’re about to get weird. Well, weirder.”

“I don’t know, I’m...”

“Christ, you’re about to get weird, aren’t you?”

“I suppose. I’m just trying to make sure that...”

“You know, I’d love to torture you as much as you deserve, but then we’d be here all day. So I’m going to do something I hate, and be earnest myself. If you tell anyone other than her about this, by the way, you’d better sleep on your back for the rest of your life because I will follow through on my threat. You remember which one?”

Gulp. “Yes.”

“Good boy. So, I doubt I need to tell you about me and Kathryn, and anyway I’d just be repeating everything you’ve said amidst all your drooling. I’m in awe of her, I lust after her even more than I did before I learned for myself just how fucking amazing she is in the sack, I’m more than a little head-over-heels, and I’m still pretty sure she’s either a sex demon or an alien pleasure drone, but I’m not in love with her and you don’t have yet another competitor for her affections.”

Wait, was that a possibility I should have considered? “I ... okay. Well, good.”

She snorted. “Sorry, but I couldn’t help but get a little dig in, dumbass. Don’t worry, there was never any chance of us falling in love while she’s got two dudes wrapped around her fingers. It was just sex ... really, really, really great sex ... but no more than that. Despite desperately wanting to, I didn’t even ask when or if we could do it again, because she’s got more than enough complications to deal with right now.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it.” He couldn’t help but remember Kathryn’s tearful confession about how and why she’d gotten the three of them together, and he wondered if he should share the conversation. Wendy didn’t give him the chance.

“You should probably know that she told me what’s been going through her head.” Luke’s breath caught in his throat. Which part? All of it? Does she know how our conversation ended? “The thing is, I guessed it would go this way as soon as she called to set up your date. And before you ask: no, I don’t feel used, or at least not ill-used. I wouldn’t have minded, anyway; sex that good is worth a little coercion. If my orgasms are the price for you two figuring out what the hell you’re doing, it’s a price I’ll gladly spread my legs and pay.” She’d taken on a stentorian tone, as if she was making some sort of patriotic declamation, and despite the headiness of the subject matter he couldn’t help but laugh. “She dropped an intriguing hint that I wasn’t the only pawn on her chessboard, either, but she didn’t elaborate. Anything you want to tell me, Luke?”

“Uh, not really.”

“Never mind, I’ll pry it out of you sooner or later. Anyway, the point is that she and I are good. Which leaves us, or more precisely you, because I’ve already told you I’m fine. I’m told by my breeder friends that it’s important to fluff a dude’s ego in the immediate aftermath, because it makes them easier to manipulate — which is pretty pathetic, by the way; if you’re that simpleminded, how did we end up in this patriarchal shithole? — so I’ll start by assuring you that you have some skills between the sheets. I mean, I guess I sorta knew that ... word gets around, you know, even to lesbian ears ... but it’s good to know that your success with the ladies isn’t all smoke and mirrors. It’s certainly not your handsome face.”

“There’s the Wendy I know. I was beginning to worry after all that unsolicited praise. I’m sure you’re right about my face, though.”

“Of course I am. Those whiskers are atrocious and sandpapery, and I’d bet you’ve already undone all Kathryn’s careful work and you’ve got the wrinkly balls of an elderly beast again.”

Laughing, he replied, “By your standards, I suppose so. I didn’t shave this morning. I didn’t have a reason to.”

“Yuck. You’ve just ruined my appetite. As an aside, I’m not going to ask how I was, because I already know I’m a sexual Olympian. I even ... well, since you were being evasive earlier, I’m going to leave that for another time as well.”

“You were. Actually, I have to admit that you did a lot more than I thought you would, and with a lot more enthusiasm.”

“Well,” she acknowledged with a hint of embarrassment, “I was surprised as well. I suppose ... damn it, Luke, if only you were a...”

Did she actually just confess her feelings? “ ... a woman? Wendy, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“That’s it. I’m absolutely, one-hundred percent ass-fucking you in your sleep. I mean it this time.”

“I was serious.”

With a sigh, she replied, “So was I. I do care about you, you know. A great deal. But here we are at the exposed heart of the matter, and I suppose I can’t avoid it any longer. The answer is that I don’t know. How I really feel about us doing the dirty, I mean. There was...”

“ ... a distraction. Yeah, Kathryn and I had the same discussion, and it’s part of why I’m not sure how I feel about it either.”

“Right. Though I suppose you understand that she was much more of a distraction for me than you were.”

“Naturally. So, anyway, does that mean...”

“ ... that we should do it again, but on our own? I’ve thought about it, and I’m sure you have too. I don’t know that I have an answer, but my gut tells me that we should stop thinking about it. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, that’s fine too. The truth is that I don’t have the same burning desire to fuck you that I did before the three of us got together, but I like you and for some reason I’m still curious. The way Kathryn maneuvered us together is one thing, but I think if you and I tried to force our way to an answer, it might actually damage our friendship. In other words, I want to avoid that more than I want to have sex with you. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, and I confess that I’m relieved, because that’s exactly how I feel. If we have sex — just you and me, I mean — it should be because we want it to happen then and there, but it shouldn’t be on anyone else’s agenda.”

She fell silent for a few moments. “You know, your words are full of logic, but your understanding is full of crap.”

“What the ... wait, are you back to making fun of me again? Does that mean ‘serious talk time’ is over?”

“No, because this is actually the most serious talk yet. Look: whether or not we have sex, there’s going to be a third person in the room, and that’s true whether or not she’s physically there. Please tell me you’re not fooling yourself that badly.”

“Oh, I see what you mean. It was just poor wording on my part.”

“Yes, and it’s a good thing you and I aren’t going to fall in love, because that’s the sort of ‘poor wording’ that ends in someone kicking your sorry ass to the curb.”

“We’re not, are we?” It was a declaration, not a question, and Wendy took his meaning immediately.

“No, we’re not. I love you — yes, I’m finally admitting it — but not in that way. Like I said, if you didn’t have the wrong chromosomes and all that testosterone, things might be different. Sometimes I wish they were different, because you’ve tolerated my bullshit longer than any of my girlfriends, and that has to mean something. But they’re not. Anyway, whether or not you love me, you’re in love with someone else.”

“For what it’s worth, I do love you and I don’t have any problem admitting it. You’re much more than just a friend. And you know, with the occasional exception, I actually enjoy your bullshit.”

“That’s the crying shame of it right there. Or maybe it says something really awful about you.”

“Why not both?”

“Definitely both. Anyway, you’re avoiding the elephant in the room.”

Sighing, he replied, “She’s not in the room at the moment.”

“More evasion.”

Should I tell her? She’s my best friend, but these are deep waters, even for us. Then again, if I can’t talk to her, who can I talk to? “Something else happened yesterday. Something ... big.”

“It wasn’t about your penis, then. Let me guess: you rubbed one out while fantasizing about me.”

“You...” he sputtered, unable to stop himself from laughing. “Trust me, if I did, I’d never admit it to you.”

“That’s a yes, then.”

“Unfortunately, it’s not. My thoughts were definitively elsewhere.”

“Figures. So, do you want to compare notes? Because she’s the only fantasy that’s gotten me off since our little encounter, and I’ve gotten off a lot.”

“No, I want you to stop teasing and have a serious conversation.”

“Another one? You see why our love is doomed, right? Anyway, go ahead. I’m listening.” He plunged forward, recounting Kathryn’s wildly shifting moods and the difficult emotional conversations by the pool that extended into the evening. He was building to the denouement when Wendy interrupted him. “I appreciate the narrative flow of your story, especially as it approaches its dramatic climax, but you can stop. I know where this is going.”

Deflated, he asked, “She already told you?”

“No, but it’s not exactly hard to guess. Do you need the emotional closure of saying it, or can I skip to the end?” When he just sighed, she continued. “She told you she loves you. I’m not even going to ask for a confirmation, because I know that’s what happened.”

“You’re smarter than me, because I didn’t realize it was coming until she actually said it.”

“You know, Luke, I’m going to admit something I probably shouldn’t: one of the reasons I’ve always liked you is that you have an unusual amount of emotional intelligence for a dude, whereas most of your gender somehow skipped that table in the genetic buffet line. Which is why your unending dumbassery when it comes to you and Kathryn is so fucking frustrating.”

“I know, you told me...”

“ ... weeks ago. I told you weeks ago, fuckwit! And all you’ve done since then is avoid the issue. Well, it’s in your lap now, whether or not she is. So what are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know. I mean, it’s all so new, she only told me yesterday, and...”

“Weeks ago,” she repeated. “Weeks of wasted time! Jesus, by now you could have ... oh fuck it, never mind. Let’s fast-forward to the inevitable aftermath. Do you remember what I warned you about? What her finally admitting that she loves you actually means?”

He suddenly felt as if he wanted to avoid her line of inquiry. “Kinda. Something about her heart being in my hands, and...”

She groaned. “Please tell me you paid more attention than that. I know you’re having brain-wiping sex, but that was the most painful conversation you and I have ever had, and if it turns out that you weren’t even listening...”

“No, no, I’m sorry. I do remember. You told me that it means that I’m able to hurt her, and that she finally trusts me enough to hope that I won’t.”

“Even though...” she prompted.

“Even though I already am. Which I’m still not sure I understand.”

“Press rewind on that operatic tale you were telling me a few minutes ago, and then try to convince me that you’re not already hurting her.”

He did, and he realized that she was correct. “Alright, alright. You’ve been right about everything all along, and I’m a moron for not listening to you. So, all-knowing oracle, what am I supposed to do about it? That wasn’t sarcasm, by the way. It was a serious question.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know? I can tell you what you’re both thinking and feeling, but if I knew how to translate that into agenda items I’d be in a relationship with an actual person rather than battery manufacturers. But for the record, nothing I warned you about has changed. Mount Luke-and-Kathryn — wordplay intended — is still going to erupt, destroying the village and killing an unfortunate number of residents and unprepared tourists. The only thing you get to choose is who lives and who dies.”

“Your analogies are awfully dramatic. It might be bad, but no one’s going to die.”

“Living with a dead heart isn’t much better than dying, Luke. And being the one responsible for murdering that heart is its own form of death.”

“You know, I so enjoy your little pep talks.”

“Oh, no. You can’t whine your way out of this one, jackass. You can say anything you want to me, but other than banging her into an utterly inevitable admission of love, you’ve done fuck-all about your real problem. Tell me: how close to done with the work are you?”

“About halfway, but a little closer to the end than the beginning. I’m supposed to be ordering wine today, but instead I’m talking to you. Aside from that, it’s just cellar reorganization and shelving the first of the new arrivals.”

“So many wasted hours. There’s no way it should’ve taken you this long to finish your work, so I assume you’ve been stretching it out as much as possible so you can spend more time inside her.”

“It’s kinda hard to work while we’re having sex.”

“No doubt. Obviously, that means you’re both in on this little plan. How does it feel knowing you’re overcharging Bill so you can keep screwing his wife?”

“Way too harsh, Wendy, and please stop it. Anyway, I’m not charging for the extra time. That wouldn’t be right.”

“Well, look at that. A code of ethics. How admirable.”

“Why do you persist in making me feel even shittier than I already do?”

“I’m not trying to make you feel like shit at all. If what you’re doing doesn’t accomplish that all by itself, there’s nothing I can say or do to change it. I’m trying to make you face reality. You know what your choices are, right?”

“Of course I do,” he snapped, anger and frustration getting the better of him. “Walk away, try to take her away, or ... keep having an affair, I guess.”

“And what steps have you taken towards any of those goals?”

“I...”

“That’s what I thought. You’re running out the clock, waiting and hoping for the writers to hand you a completed final act. If you believed in a god, it’d be way past time to start praying for divine intervention. You’re not going to chance upon a miracle by fucking her, me, or anyone else, you know. Admitting that you love each other should have been the beginning of a decision, and I have no idea what she’s done since she told you, but it’s clear that you haven’t done a damned thing. The clock’s ticking, Luke, and midnight’s approaching. Surely you feel it.”

Defeated at last, he admitted, “I do. But I still don’t know what the right choice is. Or maybe it’s that I don’t know what choice is least bad.”

“They’re all bad, but you still have to make one.” She sighed in frustration. “The night you met her, do you remember what happened?”

“Yes, but what does that have to do with...?”

“She plopped down next to you, you tried to dazzle her like you dazzle everyone else, but when your braggadocio fizzled because you’d never met anyone as formidable as her — and because she’d already fried your synapses — you stopped trying. You were clearly falling for her, and you spent the rest of the night basking in her radiance, but you didn’t do anything about it. I’ve watched you artfully seduce at least a dozen impressionable girls onto your dick over the years, with varying levels of admiration or dismay, but I’ve never seen you just give up like that. So I took over ... fluffing you up, letting you show off, pouring her a little extra wine, doing everything I could do to make the impression you were supposed to make. And it worked, didn’t it?”

“Are you asking me to thank you for being the best wingwoman ever? Because I’m obviously incredibly grateful, but...”

“I don’t need your gratitude, I need you to focus on how that night ended. You wanted her, she wanted you, you told me that she admitted to being another drink ... or another hour ... from going home with you, but what actually happened was last call. The clock struck its final hour, I started closing the bar, and she got up and left. At least she made a decision. You just sat there with your dick in your hand, waiting for something to happen. The problem is, you haven’t...”

“ ... I haven’t stopped. I get it. That was one of your better and less violent analogies, by the way.”

“Thank you. I’m clever when I’m angry. My point is that because you got exactly what you wanted — entirely thanks to her, by the way — you’ve never stopped waiting. It might be hard to grasp because you’re spending every waking moment fucking the shit out of each other, but you still haven’t moved from that barstool. Not when it comes to her. Don’t you think it’s way past time for you to make a decision?”

“You’re just repeating the same objection, and I’ve already agreed with you.”

“No, I’m trying to tell you something else. At the bar, she’s the one who made a choice. She was stronger and more sure of herself back then. She’s the one who got drunk and grabbed your dick. She’s the one who slipped herself into your bed. But she’s not going to bail you out this time. If she was — if she was sure about what she wanted — she wouldn’t be in love with two men at the same time. As I tried to tell you weeks ago, she finally admitted that she loves you because this is now your responsibility.”

“Even if you’re right, which you probably are since you’ve been right about everything else, you’re not exactly helping.”

“But that’s part of what I’m trying to get through your thick skull. Unlike at the bar, I can’t help you either. This is all on you. Leave her, take her, keep her as a side piece, stage a scandalous murder-suicide and let the tabloids tell your story ... you have to do something. Passivity doesn’t become you, Luke. It’s not sexy. And it’s not like you.”

“Well, let’s walk through my options so you can tell me if I’m missing something, because it looks pretty bleak from my barstool. Option one is that we break it off, either now or when I leave. Bill’s happy, or at least he has the chance to be. Kathryn might be sad for a while, but she’ll still be with someone she loves. I’m the only one who gets nothing.”

“That’s the simplest and easiest of all the paths, yes. It’s the noblest option, too. It’s also the one that causes you the most pain.”

“I know. Believe me, I know. If I didn’t, this decision would be easier. Option two is that we keep doing what we’re doing, though obviously with less frequency and a lot more sneaking around. I get to keep having the best sex I’ll ever have, maybe I’ll even go back to dating other people, and we’ll coast on our erotic inertia until something changes or one of us decides to end it. The biggest downside is that the risk of us being caught skyrockets.”

Wendy paused for a while before responding. “That, and I’m not sure how many members of your harem will approve of your plan. It’s one thing to have commitment-free sex while you both play the field, but it’s quite another to know that the person you’re fucking will not only never love you, he might not even be thinking about you while you’re together because he’s so deeply in love with someone else. Anyway, you’re wrong. That’s not the only downside, and it’s not even the biggest.”

With a sigh, he admitted, “You’re right. The biggest is that I’ll still be in love with her, and her with me, but we’ll still be prevented from acting on that love. In other words, it’s just a longer-lasting version of what we’re doing now. The emotional cost, for both of us, would be the highest of all three paths.”

“Also true. In fact, that might bring a painful and destructive end to your affair all by itself.”

“It not only might, it probably would. Anyway, that leaves the third option, which promises the greatest possible reward — at least to me — but which is also the most damaging to the largest number of people: I make a serious play for her. It’d have to be a direct appeal, because if I’m actually going to try to break up her marriage, I won’t do it while skulking in the shadows. There’s no way we could hide for very long, anyway. Of course, there’s no guarantee that she’d say yes. I’d be heartbroken for a while, but not all that much worse off than if I’d ended it, and I suppose the brightish side is that it offers us a better chance at closure. On the other hand, if she agrees and I get what I want, it destroys Bill, upsets my parents, leads to more than a few ancillary scandals, damages my professional reputation — I’d never get hired for a job like this again, for example — and almost certainly causes us enough anguish that it’s possible we might not survive it anyway. I think that the only way we could manage it would be to pull up stakes and run away together, though even then I doubt we could completely outrun the whispers.”

“You’re probably right about that. All three of you are way too well-known for this to slip under the radar. Their wedding made the news, after all, and you have an international profile. Unless you leave the wine biz altogether, the story will eventually catch up to you.”

“Pretty bleak, isn’t it? So, any objective assessment of my options makes it clear that the most rational and least destructive thing to do would be to enjoy the rest of our time together, and then call it a day.”