Epilogue (part 3)

The evening was hot and steamy and while the rain had ended, the humidity was high, too uncomfortable for an evening stroll. It didn't take long for a bus to appear and John hopped on and sat in a seat behind the driver. He felt a bit uneasy, as if something was trying to get his attention but kept slipping from the front of his mind.

The bus ride didn't take long and John exited the vehicle and casually strode the couple of blocks to Patty's place. He rang the bell and waited for her to come to the door. He realized suddenly that he hadn't brought anything with him. 'Shit, ' he murmured. 'I should have brought some wine or something.'

"John, Hi, sweetie. I'm happy that you're here. Dinner is ready and I'm hungry so let's eat. Sit while I serve, the table is all set as you can see." She reached up and kissed him softly on the cheek.

As John walked into the house, he could hear Patty fumble a bit at the door. She then turned and escorted him into the dining area. Everything looked beautiful, the china, the flatware and glasses seemed to sparkle.

"Jeez, Patty, everything looks beautiful. You didn't have to go to all this trouble. I feel foolish, especially since I didn't bring anything. I should have brought some wine, or something..."

"Don't be silly, John. I have everything here. from wine to dessert. Sit down, let's eat. I'm famished."

The dinner was delicious and the conversation easy, warm and comfortable. John felt his slight anxiety fading and he mentally laughed at himself for his paranoia. He gazed at Patty O'Hara affectionately.

"Patty, I can't even begin to tell you how delicious everything was. Thank you, I really appreciate all of the hard work you went to. The next time though, it's dinner on me and at a really nice restaurant."

Patty laughed, "There is a price to pay for all of this, Johnny. Come, let's clear the table and you can help me with the dishes. You realize of course, that dinners at home come with a price tag, and part of that is clean-up."

John laughed in return and it wasn't long before everything was cleaned up and the dishes, etc. were stacked in the dishwasher. They then ambled to the living room where Patty poured them each a tumbler of fine cognac. Patty motioned John to an easy chair and then settled herself at the end of the sofa. She looked at him steadily and John felt that slight discomfort return.

"John," Pat said softly. "I don't want you losing control, but I want to speak to you about your wife." She paused, clearly waiting for his response.

It didn't take long. "GOD DAMN IT," John shouted, his face turning a bit red. "I told you, I told you, Pat. Enough, enough, Why the hell are you doing this?"

His eyes widened suddenly. "Shit, it's Irene. It's Irene, isn't it. She won't let this go. She worries this like a cat with a rat in it's mouth. Pat, it's over. We're divorced. It's over - I don't want to talk about it."

Pat just sat quietly during John's tirade. "Yes, John. Irene and I have talked - in fact we've talked quite a bit. When we left your apartment she drove me home, came in and we talked for quite awhile. WAIT...", she exclaimed when John suddenly rose and strode to the door. He grabbed the knob, but it appeared that the door was securely locked. He turned to Pat, anger evident in his eyes.

"It's locked and the key is here," and Pat put her hand on her breast. "I don't think that you'll try to get it, or am I wrong?"

John stood by the door, his shoulders sagged suddenly. He was tired, he felt emotionally depleted. He looked about him, saw the tumbler of cognac by his chair and moved to it. He picked it up and took a healthy swallow, feeling it burn as it made its way down his gullet.

He looked over at Pat and with an air of resignation muttered, "You're going to do this regardless, aren't you. Despite everything, you're going to dredge up all of the old hurt, all of the shit I've been trying to forget.

"Why, Patty?" John continued wearily. "Why are you doing this? Why is Irene so hell bent on making me miserable, and why are you helping her? What the hell is going on?"

Pat hesitated a bit. "Johnny, we're not sadists, we're not out to drive you crazy, but there is a reason why we trapped you here this evening, beside the fact that I like your company and enjoy having you here for dinner," and she smiled just a trifle.

"John, just listen to me, that's all. That's all I'm asking. Just take a few minutes and listen to me, okay?"

John closed his eyes. He felt exhausted, he couldn't fight. "Okay, Pat. Go ahead, I'll listen," he whispered hoarsely.

Pat was looking at him with more than a hint of sadness in her eyes. She truly felt affection for him, but also realized that sometimes the treatment for a problem was painful and she knew that John was going to feel pain, but she also knew that there was nothing for it but to proceed.

"John," while you were dating Esther, did they two of you ever consume alcohol to any degree, even just casually?"

John sat quietly for a long moment before muttering, "No, not really. Esther never really liked the taste, although sometimes she would take a sip of my wine,"

Pat paused and bit her lip just a bit. She knew that this was going to be difficult. "At that New Year's Party, she did drink quite a bit, didn't she? Why do you think she did that?"

She could see the pain in John's face. He had glanced at the door again, obviously seeking an escape from this cross examination. He finally turned to Pat. "Yeah, she got loaded. I don't know how much she drank, but she was tanked."

"How come, John? You said that she never cared for alcohol. Why did she drink at the party?"

John shrugged. "I'm not totally sure. It was the first party at her firm. She was really excited about her job. She was just bubbling over she was so happy." John paused, remembering. "It looked like something out of... I don't know what. It seemed that almost everyone was drunk. There was a lot of groping, I noticed that. They only ones not drunk were some of the senior partners."

John shrugged again. "I guess that Esther got caught up in all of the crap. I don't have any other explanation."

"After that incident, did Esther ever consume any alcohol? Did she ever order a drink when you went out? Did you keep liquor in your house?" Pat asked.

"Yeah, we had liquor at the house - you know, for company or gatherings. But... no, she never did order anything alcoholic to drink after that party. Oh, she would occasionally take a sip of my wine, but that's about all."

"So... in all the years you've been together, the only times that Esther got drunk was that New Year's Party and the scene that you witnessed at that hotel lounge?" Patty asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.

John looked up and she could see the lines in his face. "The only times that I KNOW, Pat. The only times that I KNOW."

Pat's voice was biting. "That you KNOW?" she questioned, her voice thick with sarcasm. "That you KNOW? You mean she could have been drunk dozens of times without you knowing? She could have gotten drunk every Tuesday and Thursday and participated in hundreds of orgies, without you knowing? Is that what you're saying?"

John sat there, the muscles of his jaws tensing as he gritted his teeth. He glared at her, his agony evident. "You're enjoying this, aren't you," he spat.

Pat flinched, she could hear the bitterness in his voice and she decided to ignore it for now. "John, why do you think that Esther never really drank after the first incident? Have you ever thought about that? Have you ever questioned her about that or spoken to her concerning the whole question of drinking?"

John continued to glare, but he decided to answer. "No, not really. That's just the way it was. We never really discussed it again. As far as I know, she stayed away from hard liquor and it didn't seem like such a big deal. A lot of people don't drink and when we were at gatherings or parties she had a soft drink of some sort. We never really discussed it."

Pat now had a hard glint in her eyes and she asked quickly. "So... from that incident before you were married, until that debacle at the hotel lounge, Esther had basically avoided alcohol?"

John sat there, eyeing her uncertainly. He had a vague suspicion as to where this conversation was leading and he didn't want to go there. What he wanted was to escape, to get the hell out of this situation, to get away from Pat's probing questions.

"The last few months we were together were hell," he blurted out, ignoring her question. "She was always moody, preoccupied with that damned project, SHE SAID," his voice rising. "She was more concerned with work than with our relationship, and I discovered the why of that. Moriarty had returned, HE WAS BACK."

John sank back in his chair. He discovered that he was trembling and he reached and took another swallow of the cognac. He was embarrassed at his outburst. He was embarrassed that his eyes were tearing and he brushed at them ineffectually.

Pat recognized that a break was in order. She rose and refilled John's glass and poured a bit of the golden liquid into hers. She moved to him and gently brushed her lips across his forehead, patting him on the shoulder. She felt him relax a bit and she resumed her seat.

Pat's voice was quiet and controlled as she continued. "Johnny, did you ever think that perhaps the reason she never told you about Moriarty's return was because she knew how upset you would be? She was up to her ears in what she considered a career challenging project and perhaps she just didn't want the turmoil that his return could cause if you knew."

John muttered sullenly, "I don't know... I don't know. All I could see was what they were doing in that booth. I can't get that scene out of my mind... what she allowed him to do and what she was doing..."

Pat sat up, her spine stiffening. Her eyes were now blazing, and her chin trembled with emotion. Her voice was cold and biting. "I don't believe this, I don't god damn believe this. You're a highly educated, supposedly intelligent, full professor at a highly prestigious, IVY LEAGUE UNIVERSITY?????"

Her voice had risen. She rose and stood over John who looked up at her in astonishment. He made to speak, but Pat clamped her hand over his mouth. "Shut up, John. Just shut the fuck up and listen to me. See if you can get your head out of your ass long enough to understand what I'm saying to you."

Pat paused, then began to pace. "You know, Johnny. I'm just a few months away from finishing my doctoral thesis and I have all of my course work completed. It won't be long before I'll be finished with the work necessary to graduate with a doctorate in Clinical Psychology. No, no, I'm not just telling you this again so that I can inflate my ego. But, you knowing something?" she asked rhetorically. "That's totally irrelevant. All of my education, all of my schooling, all of the case studies I've worked on, really have no bearing on your situation, and I'll tell you why."

Pat ceased pacing and whirled on him, her voice rising again. "John Watson!", she exclaimed. "Anyone with half a brain can see that your ex-wife has a problem with alcohol. That's the underlying problem and we'll discuss that first. Esther just cannot drink, her tolerance for alcohol is more than extremely low. A glass or two of wine for Esther is equivalent to a night of drinking for the average person. Get Esther drunk and she's not the intelligent, grounded, perceptive attorney and loving wife. Her inhibitions become totally repressed and her emotions take total control."

Pat's voice started to gain in volume. "John, why do you think that Esther never again touched alcohol after that New Year's Eve party? She knew the danger, she knew that the results could be catastrophic. You say that the two of you never really discussed that incident after your initial conversation, but there's no doubt in my mind that Esther, perhaps only unconsciously, realized the inherent danger and she made sure to keep away from the hard stuff."

"Then that makes that scene at that lounge even more reprehensible," John snapped. "If she knew, then that whole evening was not one of accidental inebriation, but a well planned prelude to adultery on her part." His face was tight and wet with perspiration.

Pat grimaced but made an effort to control her anger. "Really, John? Let's examine that scene, but let's start at what was happening before she even went on that trip. You yourself admitted that your relationship had been deteriorating. Esther was deeply involved in a major contract, a project that had career enhancing implications. Perhaps she allowed her home life with you to suffer, to take second place to it, and you took the brunt of that. You tried to be understanding because you know how important this was to her. You had always known how devoted she was to her work and how much she loved her position at the firm. Am I right about that?" she asked.

John nodded cautiously. He now knew not to underestimate Patty. "What are you driving at, Pat. I've told you all of that."

"I'm just trying to set the scene, John. Just listen for a bit," Pat paused, gathering her thoughts.

"So all of the squabbling during those months really were undermining your relationship, chewing away at the very foundation of your marriage. You were angry and you felt that your wife considered her work more important that her marriage. At the same time, Esther was also angry and bitter. She felt that you knew how important this was to her and felt that you should have been more supportive, more understanding, a bit more patient. You did mention that she told you that it wouldn't be long before this would be over and things could get back to normal. It got so bad that when she left on that trip, the two of you were hardly speaking - is that correct?"

Not waiting for John to confirm, Pat continued. "Then you suddenly discovered that Moriarty had returned so you followed and observed her. You yourself mentioned that it certainly appeared that nothing untoward was going on. You indicated that Esther and Moriarty interacted in a normal, work related fashion. In fact you indicated that you felt that Esther was tense and impatient with him most of the time you saw them together, right?"

John nodded reluctantly.

"Okay, now let's get to that infamous evening at the hotel. You observed Esther and Moriarty come in. They were beaming, ebullient, riding an emotional high. It was obvious that they had concluded the project successfully. It was all done, all wrapped up. Months of hard work had paid off. Their joy and relief must have been palpable. She accepted his invitation for dinner, something she had not done the evening before.

"While at dinner she actually had a glass of wine, two glasses of wine. Now we can ask why. Why did she do that? I just finished telling you that she knew the danger of that, so why did she do that? Why did she drink?"

"Wait, let me continue," Pat said quickly as John attempted to answer her. "Let's examine her state of mind. Esther was riding a high, her spirits were off the charts she was so relieved. She was euphoric and grateful, grateful to Moriarty for HE had been working along with her on this thing. HE had been supportive, HE understood how important this was to her, HE had worked to insure the success of this project."

John seemed to have shrunk into the chair. His limbs felt heavy, it seemed as if his neck couldn't support his head. He looked up at her and muttered bitterly "so she decided to reward his 'hard' work."

"NO, no, I don't believe that and I'll give you reasons for that soon. I believe that she was so happy, so relieved, so worked up about her future with the firm that she let her guard down. She had avoided alcohol for decades, she was afraid, afraid of what could happen, but that was then and this was now. Now she was certain that she could control events. Her level of confidence in herself was sky high. Alcohol wasn't going to control her any longer and she wasn't going to live in fear of it any longer. She just knew that she could control things - after all, what harm would a couple of glasses of wine do? AND, AND," Pat continued, her voice now more emphatic, "let's not forget what she was feeling about you. I suspect that it was simmering just under the surface. She was hurt and angry. She felt that you weren't there when she needed you, that you trivialized her work, her efforts. She felt, correctly or not, that you had failed her.

Pat now had resumed her seat and gazed at John sympathetically. "John, conditions could not have been more favorable for what happened. Esther had the wine which was the beginning. She was already drunk, although ambulatory, mobile enough to go to her room, change clothing and return to the lounge. She was able to do all of that, but she was drunk despite that. Then she continued to drink - well, you know the results of that."

John just sat there, his thoughts inward. Pat wondered what he was thinking, but wisely said nothing for a few long moments. She moved to the thermostat and lowered the temperature a couple of degrees. The apartment felt stifling.

Pat went back to the sofa and made herself comfortable. She sighed and felt her heart go out to her friend, she suspected the pain he was experiencing. "Johnny, Esther never planned on cheating, she never entertained any thought of that. Her fault was letting things get out of hand, her belief that she had the power to control events. She wouldn't believe that she couldn't handle the alcohol... she was wrong and she paid for that error in judgement."

John sighed and let his head rest against the back of the chair. He felt emotionally drained and he couldn't really take in everything that Pat had just said. Oh, he knew the words, but his mind just couldn't reconcile what he had just been told with the scene of the lounge which was burned into his memory.

His thoughts were interrupted. "John,?" Pat said softly. "You two never had children. Why was that? Was it a mutual decision? You had your work and Esther had hers?"

John sat and struggled with the answer to that question. He felt his face burning, felt the shame and sense of inferiority threaten to overwhelm him again. He swallowed, thought that he would avoid an answer, then decided to tell the truth. Why not, she would ferret it out anyway.