Chapter 5: Early September

"This isn't getting us anywhere," Steve complained. "We've been doing this counseling thing for five weeks now and we're just going round and round in circles." He was looking at Mr. Houston and ignoring Barbara as much as he could.

"But I told you. I understand now that I should never have agreed to meet with Chad... even if it was just to say good-bye," Barbara protested. "I admit it! It was wrong, but I can't go back and change it now.

"And I was wrong to let Jimmie get so close to me," she added. "I didn't see what he was trying to do. All I thought he was doing was being nice to me when you weren't," she said.

Steve didn't say anything. He watched her. He understood her words, but they clearly meant nothing to him. He shook his head wearily.

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about," Steve said. "When was I ever not nice to you?"

"Well... like... you wanted to go over to that guy's house for Thanksgiving," she said resentfully. "You made me go and I'd already promised Mom and Dad we would be there and I had to call and tell them we were going somewhere else."

"No, I didn't," Steve shot back. "Don't you remember? We agreed we'd already spent three Thanksgivings in a row at your Mom's, right? We decided it would be good to do something different... maybe have Thanksgiving dinner somewhere else and go over to your Mom's afterward to visit for a while."

Barbara looked at him uncertainly. A vague memory stirred at the back of her mind.

"Well, maybe so..." she said reluctantly. "But when we got there, it was such a grubby little house... and that guy's mousy little wife... and--"

"The "grubby little house" was spic and span inside and out," Steve shot back. "It needed painting, but they didn't have enough money to get it done. Big deal.

"That guy, Greg, saved my life five years ago when a two-ton girder got loose while being hoisted up nine stories. It would have smashed me flatter than a pancake," Steve said quietly. "I owe that guy absolutely everything and he won't take a thing from me."

Barbara gaped at her husband. She hadn't known.

"And that mousy wife of his has a name. Hers is Tanya and when she and her husband were teenagers out in west Texas, she held a rabid dog off her boyfriend for fifteen minutes when he couldn't defend himself. Greg had fallen and hit his head on a rock. Brenda held that dog off with just a stick until Greg recovered enough to shoot the beast with his rifle."

Steve bent at the waist, leaning toward Barbara.

"That mousy wife adores her husband. They've been together since they were in sixth grade. Tanya could not do what you've done to me. It would kill her just to think about it. I can't even think about Greg without feeling completely and totally envious."

Steve straightened up in his chair. He looked straight ahead, his jaw tight.

"Okay... you're right... I guess," Barbara said tiredly. "I do remember we decided to go to their house now. It's just that... back when... Jimmie-boy started coming on to me, I just felt like you were pulling away from me and not listening to me," she said.

Steve glanced at her in surprise. For his wife, this was a major concession.

"And Raphael, "the Thunderbird Man" Porter?" he asked sarcastically. Barbara was ready for the question.

"You took that long trip and left me alone," she said. "I needed you with me and you weren't there." She was defiant. "Rafe came into the building to take care of some things with one of the accountant supervisors and saw me crying outside the restroom door. I didn't know it would get so crazy... I didn't mean for anything to happen at all... I just needed someone to talk to and he happened to be there."

Steve looked in his wife's eyes. She held his gaze steadily.

"I had to go on that trip," Steve said unemotionally. "We talked about that too... and it's not like I take that many business trips. That was the only one this year, darn it. How could you have needed me so much you went to another man so damned quick? And we'd been getting along a lot better just before that too. How could you do that?"

"It just happened," Barbara said after a moment. "I didn't plan it. I didn't want it. It just happened." Steve looked away in disgust.

"I know bullshit when I hear it, Barbara," he said. "You are supposed to be answering my questions honestly here... that's what we both agreed to do, if you remember right... we were going to be truthful and--"

"I had a miscarriage!" Barbara blurted. Both men stared at her in amazement.

"What?" Steve asked. "What are you talking about?"

"While you were gone," Barbara said in flat tones. "Three days after you left, I started bleeding and had to go to the hospital. I didn't even know I was pregnant and..." Barbara waved her hands helplessly.

Steve's mind was whirling. Barbara had lost a baby? He hadn't known. She said she hadn't known she was even going to have one.

"But... how could you have gone into the hospital with something that bad and nobody knew... how long were you there?" Steve asked.

"A week... more."

"More than a week? But... but why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you call me? I'd have dropped everything and come home," Steve said. His voice showed his concern, and his confusion.

"I didn't tell anyone," Barbara said quietly. "Not Mom or Dad either... I would only call them at night when everything was quiet in the hospital ward. When I went home, it was easy to pretend I just needed time to myself. All I wanted to do was sleep. I couldn't eat. I lost twenty pounds... you said yourself I looked like I was starving when you got back."

"Why?" Steve demanded. "Why did you hide it from me? Why did you keep something that important to both of us from me?"

Barbara opened her mouth... but no words came. She suddenly knew she had no reply. She didn't know why she had kept her loss a secret.

"I don't know," she said woodenly. "I don't know." Without warning, tears welled up and streaked down her face.

"Oh, God," she sobbed. "I lost my baby... I lost my baby."

Steve reflexively turned his body toward his wife. He almost left his seat to take her in his arms. At the last moment, he remembered. He remembered all the other excuses his wife had used in other counseling sessions. He made himself settle back. This changed nothing.

"So last week we talked about your miscarriage, Barbara," Mr. Houston said quietly. The revelation had ended the session the week before. Barbara had been unable to continue.

Barbara nodded at the counselor. To Steve, she looked more composed than he'd seen her in a long time. She turned to face him directly.

"Steve," she said softly, "I'm so sorry I hid it from you. Mr. Houston and I talked about it in our individual counseling but I still don't know why I did it. All I can tell you is that I felt ashamed. I think I felt like it was my fault because I didn't even know about being pregnant. I can't tell you why I felt that way. I can't tell you why I couldn't share the paid with you, but I just couldn't. Someday... when I know, I'll tell you why, but for right now I just don't understand it either."

Steve looked at her. She met his eyes unflinchingly. He decided his wife was telling the truth for once. He shrugged.

"Okay... you'll tell me," he said simply. "Since you're being so truthful and open today, maybe you can let me in on another secret," he said.

"Anything," Barbara answered.

"How many times did you fuck Raphael Porter?" Steve asked. Barbara's eyes flicked away.

"I never had sex with him," she said.

"You're lying," Steve remarked. "And you're not very good at hiding it." He turned to the counselor.

"That's it for me tonight," he said calmly. "Until my wife is ready to tell me the truth, there's no sense in talking." He got up, turned, and walked out the door without saying another word.

"How many times?" Steve demanded. Tonight, two weeks later, Barbara had promised she wouldn't try to evade Steve's questions. It had been a precondition for Steve to return to the couple's counseling sessions. If she lied again, Steve was ready to walk out. October was just around the corner for Pete's sake. Nothing was getting any better.

Barbara took a deep breath.

"Twice," she said quickly. "But it wasn't exactly sex like you think," she added.

Steve slumped in his seat. He let his eyes roll upward beseechingly. Suddenly, he jumped up from the chair and walked quickly to the window beside Mr. Houston's desk. Pulling hard on the cord to raise the Venetian blinds to the top, he stared wildly into the night, putting his cheek close to the glass to look as high up into the sky as he could.

He shook his head, raced to the window directly behind Mr. Houston, and repeated what he'd done at the other one. Verne Houston watched his client apparently going mad with professional detachment. He wondered if he would be able to drag the deranged man back inside if he tried to leap out of one of the windows. Steve was a pretty big guy.

"Hmmmmmm... I don't see it, Barb," Steve complained. "Maybe it's not coming tonight, you reckon?" Mr. Houston coughed delicately.

"Ah... what isn't coming tonight, Mr. Curtis?" he asked gently.

"The mother ship, of course" Steve replied. "My wife has obviously been abducted by aliens who think sex isn't exactly like sex. That's what she said, right? Well, her alien friends will be back to pick her up pretty soon... but I don't see the mother ship so maybe it won't be tonight." He sat back down. He'd had fun with the facetious little drama.

Mr. Houston hadn't enjoyed it nearly as much, though Steve thought he saw a small grin just before a falling blind cut off Verne's reflection in the glass. Houston lowered the other window covering before sitting back down. Barbara hadn't said anything during Steve's antics. Her only reaction had been an embarrassed flush that spread relentlessly up her neck to color her ears.

"If I could go on... ?" she asked, directing her question to the counselor. Mr. Houston nodded.

"By all means," Steve interjected.

Barbara gave him a distracted look. This was hard for her. Steve's sarcasm and sardonic performance were largely wasted on her because she was concentrating so hard on what she had to say that she gave the byplay only marginal attention.

"What I meant was that Mr. Porter would just... he would only... he just wanted me to masturbate him," Barbara said in a low voice. Her head was down. She didn't want to look at anyone.

"And I only did it through his pants," she added. "I never really touched him... and he never touched my... me... uh... my vagina or my breasts or anything like that."

Steve didn't say a word. He sat watching his wife. Barbara blushed deeper and looked steadfastly at the top-front corner of Mr. Houston's desk. Abruptly Steve snorted contemptuously.

"If that's true, you have got to be the saddest excuse for an adulteress on the face of the planet," Steve remarked. "And Raphael must be whatever the exact opposite of a stud is if he couldn't get more from you than that." Steve added.

"All that sneaking around, all the deception and lies, and... all the other crap and all he got was a couple of hand jobs? That's got to be the most pitiful affair on record," he said disgustedly. Barbara wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Nah... that's just too much. I don't believe you," Steve said distinctly. "You're trying to bullshit me again. You're lying." Barbara's head jerked around.

"It's true!" she retorted hotly. Her face was a fiery red from his scathing comments. She averted her eyes again.

Steve took that as another evasion. He shook his head and stood up.

"See y'all when she's ready to tell the truth," he said, looking at Mr. Houston. "I've got better things to do than waste time with a liar and a cheat." He walked out, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"So you admitted to Steve you really were sexing it up with that Porter guy?" Lydia asked.

"Yeah," Barbara said resentfully, "but he didn't believe me. He said it was pitiful."

Lydia chuckled. She quit out of deference to her granddaughter, but she more than half agreed with Steve.

"Well, honey, it's not the most... exciting thing I've ever heard of," Lydia remarked. She watched as Barbara's face colored. "Baby, you got to get used to it. Whatever you did with that man, you shouldn't have been doing it. You had no right to share anything like even what you say with anyone but your husband."

"But Nony, it wasn't really sex. I did all that in high school and it--"

Barbara cut herself off before she further embarrassed herself. She wasn't used to talking with her grandmother about such things. A sardonic grin quirked Lydia's lips before she could control it.

"Barbara... let me put it this way. If Steve was sitting right over there..." Lydia motioned to the couch, "and this Porter guy was standing right in front of you, would you play with that man's prick... even through his pants?" Lydia watched with interest as Barbara's face flushed even redder.

"Of course not!" Barbara protested.

Lydia nodded. She waited a moment. She looked at her granddaughter expectantly until she Barbara was only staring straight ahead stony faced.

"Okay, would you have let Rafe squeeze your butt... and shove his hand up your skirt... and kiss you like a lover does? Would you have done any of that, like in those pictures, in front of your husband."

Barbara's face went from dark red to ashen in the space of two heartbeats. She closed her eyes.

"No," she said in a small voice. Lydia let the silence continue for a while. Her granddaughter was finally facing something she'd been avoiding for a long time.

"You're beginning to see why Steve is having a wee, small problem with the way you've been acting?" Lydia suggested. "Barbie... dear, if you can't do it in front of your husband... sugar, it's wrong."

Barbara let a sour expression spread across her features.

"Oh... I've known all along, I guess," Barbara said wearily. "But you make it sound so... awful and dirty, Nony."

"It was awful and it was dirty," Lydia said indignantly. "It was the most shameful thing I've ever heard of you doing, Barbara. How could you do something like that? Didn't you understand how hurtful it was going to be to Steve?"

"But... Nony... it was like... it was like it didn't have anything to do with Steve. I wasn't thinking about him and me." Barbara stopped, her face twisted with frustration.

"I don't know how to describe it... It's like I was in another world when I was around Rafe, and it wasn't quite real. I never thought of talking or kissing, or even... uh... touching Rafe was connected to me being married.

"I mean... I see it was wrong now... but I just wasn't thinking about any consequences when I was with Rafe. Everything with him was just for the moment... nothing else... just that moment," Barbara said wonderingly.

"I don't understand that, Nony," she said. "Why was I like that?" she asked her grandmother. Her tone was that of a hurt child.

"Do you really want to find out, baby?" she asked. Barbara nodded. Her eyes were swimming in tears.

"Then you talk about it with Verne Houston. Don't try to sugarcoat it, you hear? Just tell him what you were feeling and answer all his questions without trying to make yourself look better, baby girl. That's absolutely the only thing you can do. If you don't do that, nobody can help you, understand?" Barbara nodded. Lydia perched her hip on the edge of the big easy chair and slipped her arms around her granddaughter.

"It'll be all right, Barbie... it'll be all right. No matter what happens you'll come out okay on the other end."

"But, Nony, I don't think Steve loves me anymore," Barbara sobbed. "I don't know what to do." She cried on her grandmother's shoulder for a long while. Lydia patted the younger woman's back until she quieted a little.

"Do you love Steve?" Lydia asked. Barbara nodded. Lydia felt the motion.

"You know Steve doesn't see it that way?" she asked her granddaughter. "He can't see how you could possibly love him and do what you've done to him."

Barbara sighed.

"I know... but I never quit loving him," Barbara said emphatically. "I did some stupid things but I never wanted to hurt him. I don't know how I thought it wouldn't... I thought he'd never know about it. I'm so confused Nony," she said. The tears began welling up again.

"But you still love Steve and you want to keep him?" Lydia said, refusing to be sidetracked by the tears. "No... don't answer right away. Think about it for a minute. Your husband doesn't love you right now... and he might not ever again, honey. Are you prepared to deal with that?"

Barbara didn't answer immediately. She took the time her grandmother suggested.

"Nony," she said quietly, touching a tissue to the corner of her eyes, "I'm a stupid fool and I let myself do things I knew were wrong... but I'm not that stupid... I'm not an idiot. Steve is the best thing I've ever had happen to me. I know that. I always knew it... I didn't think about it for a while... but I've always known it. I want him to love me again like he loved me before and I'll do anything to get him back."

"That's not going to happen," Lydia said sharply.

"What?"

"Honey, you're not the same person he married. He was in love with the woman he married... he's not in love with who you are now. He doesn't even know who you are.

"You took the innocence right out of your marriage and made it something dirty and ugly. Steve's an angry man right now... and he's not going to change anytime soon. Can you handle that, baby? Can you take the nastiness, the harsh words, the rudeness and cussing he's going to throw at you until he gets it all out of his system? Can you?"

Barbara digested what her grandmother had said. She heard the challenge in Lydia's question. She nodded her head determinedly.

"I want my husband back," she said firmly. "I want him back so bad I'll do anything to make him see I'm his woman and I won't ever make a fool out of myself again." She looked out the window at the children across the street for a moment.

"But what do I do, Nony," she asked. "If he doesn't love me anymore, what do I do?" Lydia laughed.

"Why, that's the simplest thing in the world, child... you make him fall in love with you again, that's what."

Monday - Individual Counseling Session

"Total, complete honesty... that's the key," Mr. Houston said firmly. "I cannot emphasize that strongly enough, Barbara. If there's to be any chance of reconciling with Steve, he must see that you are an open book. No evasions, no fudging, no covering up something because it's embarrassing... or you're ashamed about it... no nothing!"

Mr. Houston was a little miffed with his client. Here it was the third week in September --coming up on two months into the couple's counseling and one of his clients had only last week admitted to having had sex with a man outside the marriage. This was the umpteenth session with Mrs. Curtis. He'd much rather something like this come out in the second or third.

"I must say you're coming awfully late to the table here," he told her. "I have to tell you your husband is probably at the end of his rope and I doubt he would believe you if you said day is light and night is dark right now."

"I know, Mr. Houston," Barbara said quietly. "I've been a fool and I know it. I wa hoping this would just go away if I kept denying I had had any kind of sex with Rafe. I've been ashamed of what I did, so I tried to hide it. But my grandmother has talked to me a lot and I admit it... I was being stupid, and selfish, trying to do that. I apologize to you and I will to Steve too when I see him."

The counselor sat back and looked at his client for a long while. Finally, he sighed to himself. There was no doubt Mrs. Curtis was sincere in what she'd just told him. She was calm and self-possessed this afternoon. Her eyes were cool and she faced him directly. Her hands sat quietly in her lap instead of twisting about each other as she tried to find ways to excuse her conduct or dodge a question. He'd just have to see what could be salvaged here.