Chapter 2

John closed his eyes. It didn't matter. This snapshot would be in Sasha and Peter's brain for the rest of their lives. If there was anything to say to them, it would have to come later.

He didn't want to look at Elaine. The only thing he had for her was anger and all she had were trite words. If he could get past his feelings and ... the matter-of-factness of her infidelity what was left?

The door slammed behind him without a sound. The clicker on his chain didn't beep, but the car door opened up and the interior lights came on anyway. He turned the key in the switch. As always, the idiot light on the dash warned to check oil. Vibration passed through the steering wheel to his fingers.

No, not, John, not perfect John and perfect Elaine.

How could Elaine have done it and done it so casually that -- except for a condom wrapper -- it hadn't left a ripple in her composure? How could she not have looked at it as a throw of the dice wagering a romp on the couch cushions against their future?

At work, life streamed by avoiding him. Lemmings came to his office and quickly left. He said yes or no, handing them pamphlets and referring them to sections of company policy hoping that one of them dealt with whatever they might be complaining about. Twice department heads entered his office. He nodded, said "yes" and "right away" and looked thoughtful when appropriate. He must have guessed wrong a few times. One department head stomped out while the other stared at John as if he was a lunatic.

After five he closed his door.

He'd almost hit Elaine. In front of his kids he'd almost pounded his fist into her face. They just loved to hear about this kind of thing in custody hearings.

He wouldn't go home until he had gotten a polygraph and a trained operator to grill his wife. Elaine had said it ended two weeks ago, but she never mentioned when or how it started. No, she did, she said they started out using fingers.

In his mind he pictured Elaine and her lover kissing, the man's hands burrowed under her skirt, while she ran her fingers through his hair and he vigorously jerked his cock.

All sorts of feelings clawed through his brain. Impotence turned to anger and anger to sadness in an endless biblical begatting.

The story of horny teenagers prompting the handjob had to have been a lie. The inspiration had been her first encounter with HE WHO. It was so stupid. She probably had done it as a way of saying I'm sorry. It had been so dumb from the beginning. He had seen it in her, even when she was supposed to be sad, that tidbit of satisfaction that she had fulfilled a fantasy and for a while had gotten away with it. As smart as she was, she bought into the illusion. But Elaine the unfaithful wife wasn't the role of a criminal mastermind. That was the problem, infidelity was not like plotting a bank heist. It was getting excited over switching lipstick shades when your spouse was color blind.

A twitch in his back announced the loosening of clenched muscles. He heard the air-conditioning kick in, a muted, far away car honking and the distant but annoying car alarm.

He'd almost hit Elaine. If he had almost done that to the woman he loved, what would he have done to HE WHO? John stared at the hands that despite his sedentary job were still strong and calloused from weekend carpentry. Nine hours ago his fingers would have been around the guy's neck.

It was Monday and Elaine's turn to pick the kids up from daycare. Normally he would have made a grocery run, but those plans were scuttled when he saw that it was already 6:30. Luckily Peking Garden had his order ready and waiting and had even put in the extra duck sauce this time. He got home a half hour late clutching two greasy paper bags that dripped onto his tie. He smelled pizza as he opened the door.

"DADDY!" Sasha screamed and dashed across the room, hugging herself around his right leg.

Elaine watched them from across the room. Peter glanced up and then stared the pizza boxes on the table.

"You bought dinner?" he said, making it an accusation.

"I tried to call you. When I couldn't reach you ... It's not a problem, we'll just box it up and eat it tomorrow night."

"You've already gotten the Parmesan and the crushed red peppers out. Besides Chinese tastes just as good the next day." The words sounded normal in his head, but his voice was flat.

John looked down at his daughter and he felt the father in him break free of indifference. He stroked the top of her head awkwardly with his forearm. "Sasha, can you carry one of the bags?"

She shook her head and stayed sucked onto him. "Daddy?"

"Yes."

"Bet you don't know what we did in school today?"

"Wait ... let me think." Hampered by his daughter suctioned to his leg, he limped in the direction of the refrigerator. "You went on safari? Made sculptures of your little brother out of bologna?"

"No! We did finger painting."

By the time they made it the refrigerator, she let go of his leg and was proudly pointing at a pink piece of cardboard on which a three-legged something with a horn stood among dark green streaks. Sasha went on to tell him just what her unicorn ate and liked to be called. She paused occasionally to take a bite of pizza, but held his hand even then so he wouldn't think of starting a new conversation. Peter listened to everything his little sister said. When John asked if unicorns really ate peanut butter cups, Sasha let Peter confirm this with a nod. Elaine stayed quiet nibbling at a single slice that she didn't even finish.

It got awkward after the extra pizza was wrapped in foil and fitted into the freezer.

Sasha looked back and forth between her mother and father. She hugged her mom and then came back to John. Without a word, he took Sasha's hand and led her upstairs. He checked her homework as she doodled on a piece of paper. Afterward he helped her with her picture, until they had populated a vast plain with three-legged unicorns and hedgehog sized hippos and giraffes with such long necks that their heads didn't appear on the paper. Without meaning to, he felt content.

At bedtime, he watched Sasha brush her teeth and then tucked her in.

"Don't yell any more."

He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "I won't."

She wouldn't let go of his hand. The frown on her face had no part of the little girl in it anymore. Her friends had told Sasha all about separation and divorce and supervised visitation. "You're telling the truth?"

"I won't yell anymore, baby."

She nodded. "Cross your heart all the way promise. And promise to remember too?"

"No taking back. All the way. So help me God." At his words, she settled herself under the covers, but her eyes followed him as he left.

John could tell from the light under their bedroom door that Elaine was inside. She avoided his gaze as he walked into the bathroom and began packing toiletries in his travel bag.

He looked over his shoulder at her. "I'm sleeping on the love seat."

His eyes showed chilly impatience as Elaine's lips twitched.

She finally got her mouth to push out words. "We can't talk about this?"

Nothing about the short nightie she wore or the redness around her eyes moved him. "We talked about getting your parents to babysit the kids this weekend, so let's stick with that plan. You'll be okay dropping them off by yourself."

Elaine clutched her hands about herself almost as if she were giving herself a hug.

Tuesday morning John was up and out of the house before Elaine woke. It was going to be a hard slog at work and he suspected there would be a line outside his door of people waiting their turn to yell at him. If he waded through yesterday's emails, he could head off some of the reprimands. Of course beyond any of the day-to-day management, he needed to give he-said and she-said their second official reprimand and he'd promised to do research on adult care facilities for Janet in tech support.

The day went as horribly as he thought it would. The only thing that kept him from staying late was that it was his turn to pick up the kids from daycare.

Sasha was a chatterbox. She hugged John frequently and without warning. Peter looked sullen and didn't nod when prompted for agreement by his sister.

Elaine was already home and busy in the kitchen preparing paella along with a side dish of asparagus in a garlic, soy, and sesame oil marinade. It was her "impress the guests" meal and it took a couple hours prep time. It also happened to be Peter's favorite. He had no doubt that there was gelato in the freezer.

He distracted himself by helping Sasha get started on her homework and then went outside. He tossed a football and Peter fetched it back. But John couldn't keep himself insulated from the anger that had been breaking through the ice since he saw Elaine cooking in the kitchen.

By the time he sat down at the table he was seething. Elaine moved around the table setting bowls in front of them as a first course and this departure from the make hubby happy menu distracted him. In the bowl was a blackened tuna caesar salad so good that Peter gave up his no unbattered fish stance and ate it. John could manage only three bites before putting his fork down.

The paella and asparagus were more delicious than usual. John had missed breakfast while lunch had been a diet soda and an eighty-five-cent bag of over salted pretzels. Despite this, he ate the meal with a regular gnashing of teeth imagining he was chewing sand.

After tucking Sasha in, he passed by the master bedroom and heard Elaine crying through the closed door.

Wednesday went along to the new quiet routine. At work he finally handed he-said and she-said their second reprimands and got a rough draft of his vacation property proposal ready for corporate. He made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. Just as he was clearing the plates, the phone rang and picked up. Her face grew stony as she listened to the speaker on the other end of the phone go on for a while. She whispered something and then her eyes squinched and she rasped, "No. Don't do it." She glanced nervously in John's direction. "I'll have your number blocked." Her face grew twitchier as she listened until she slammed the receiver into its cradle.

Elaine looked up, but John was already taking Sasha and Peter upstairs.

"It's not who you think," Elaine said when he finished up with the tuck ins.

His stare gave nothing away.

"It wasn't him."

John nodded and moved past her.

Thursday he got up as normal and he and Elaine got through their morning pre-Peter and Sasha coffee in a halting conversation about the weather and the direction local home prices.

At work he was on the phone half the morning. In a couple cases he played contrite yes man agreeing with department heads and going through another round of apologies for dropping the ball on Monday. Just before lunch his phone rang and he picked it up without looking at the extension.

"HR."

"What?" A familiar sounding voice asked.

"Human Resources, how can I help you?"

"John, this is Stan. I wonder if you had a moment to talk?"

John took a deep breath and grabbed his stress ball. "Maybe ten minutes at most. I'm at work. If you're going to talk about what I expect you will ... it would be better if you didn't. I don't like the fact that you know about this and God knows what version of the truth you got."

"I understand."

John crushed the stress ball. "No, Stan, you really don't."

His father-in-law cleared his throat to cover the silence. "You're right about that, but no matter what happened, my little girl loves you."

John switched the speaker phone function and began squeezing the stress ball with his other hand.

"You still there?"

He considered pressing the disconnect button, but resisted. "Yes."

"I don't mean to stick my nose where it doesn't belong, but the idea of letting this destroy all of your happiness..."

John squeezed the stress ball with both hands. "It's easy to say that from where you stand."

Stan interrupted. "I never played the gruff father-in-law because from the first time my daughter talked about you, I knew that it didn't matter what I said. When she brought you over the first time, deliriously happy, like our over mature Elaine was suddenly a five-year-old, full of joy and curiosity and trying to get her mommy and daddy to see this precious thing that she has just discovered. John, you've made her so happy, given her two wonderful children..."

John drummed his finger on the table. "From the delicate way you've been creeping around the corners, it's obvious you know what Elaine was doing."

His father-in-law's voice fluttered. "Some."

"I've got to get back to work."

There was a snort on the speaker and the sound of rustling fabric. "She's always crying." Stan choked on the last word and he took a deep steadying breath. "She calls her mother four times a day and all I hear from Rachel is, 'He loves you, Ellie. It will work out. You have to be strong for the children.' Time after time. John, no matter how terrible the thing she did was, you have to find forgiveness. Ellie needs you and you need her."

John wanted to feel sorry for his father-in-law, but he didn't have room for it. "I have to leave for a meeting now."

"Elaine will do anything for you. If it doesn't seem that way..."

John held the phone away from his ear for five seconds. " ... what do you think will happen to Sasha and Peter? It will be a tug of war with them in the middle..."

"Stan. Enough!" He slammed the phone into the cradle three times before letting it settle. Looking up, he noticed a suit rapidly retreating from his office door. God damn it, now he was going to have to organize an anger management seminar for himself.

Most of the day he sorted resumes and set up interviews. He had to wait until Tuesday to fire he said and she said. Why couldn't today be a nice big round of firings? Today, he had fantasies of hiding behind the door and once the firee stepped in his office, he would spring out in front of them and holler, "You're fired."

He found a stopping place in his work at five, but didn't get out of his chair. He picked up the phone and punched in his home number.

"Elaine, I'm playing catch-up here at the office. Why don't you and the kids eat the Chinese food? It'll be late when I get back, so you might as well tuck Sasha in. Bye."

He was amazed how easily the lie had come to him. If he had thought about it, he would be tongue tied and taking long pauses that would have given away. But the rest of his mind had been quiet and a hidden part, the department of lies, grabbed hold of his tongue and bullshit flowed.

Maybe that was how it was with Elaine. There was no doubt she was smarter than he was, so how much bigger would be her department of lies?

Why had he set up the melodrama of the big talk this weekend? Maybe it was because his department of lying was still in charge, but he could see how the talk would go. When push came to shove, Elaine was a survivor and she would do what was needed to get past this. It was self preservation and, no matter how remorseful Elaine was, her over riding concern was not to let this event destroy her marriage and turn the kids into timeshares.

She would tell him they'd had two to four encounters and she had felt guilty from the first, but couldn't stop herself. Her lover's dick would be about the same size as his, probably slightly smaller, or, if she were really selling it, she'd say it was a bit longer but not as thick.

If he'd cheated, he'd have the same story, except that the questions about cock size would be replaced by if the other woman was prettier and maybe if she had bigger breasts. Oh and Elaine would ask if he loved the other woman. It was strange that he never thought to ask her that.

Was it that if a wife cheated, she couldn't love him? If a man cheated, the assumption was that he was greedy and looking for easy pussy? Maybe men were wiser. There was no good answer to the love question.

He stepped into Marty's office. As John expected the guy had been in such a rush to get out, he hadn't even locked the door. In his top drawer, John found a 24 pack of condoms. He didn't let himself think about why he had grabbed two condoms. In any case it was already over, there was nothing to feel guilty about. He was just going to get drunk and that was all there was to it.

The Hilton was next to the airport and most of the people staying there were either in transit or in the city for multi-day conferences. The bar was only half full, mostly with red nosed, fat, white men. There were two thin black men sharing a table in the corner but based on their dynamic, it didn't look like they were fishing in the same waters as John was. Ten or fifteen women were in the bar, most herded together.

One woman was flirting and soaking up free drinks from a trio of admirers, but the aura of the bar was boredom and sexual desperation. There were three mid-thirtyish, attractive brunettes across the way from him. He glanced at them out of the corner out of his eye. Occasionally, one looked in his direction, but they were looky-loo cattle buyers just checking over the stock. Several times they waved away drinks that were offered. They nodded polite no-thank-you's in the direction of the would-be breeding stock. They were here to make themselves feel attractive. On the last couple glances he noticed that two of the women wore wedding rings.

A human tide flowed in to grab a drink and flowed out to more exotic locations. John had sipped his way through three light beers while staring up at a Mexican league soccer game. It wasn't clear whether he was drinking light beer because it was a slower road to drunkenness or whether he was trying to make his taste buds as miserable as the rest of him.

He was getting more looks from the attractive brunettes including the one without the wedding ring. Twice when he sensed they were watching, he motioned over the bartender and asked a bullshit question while fluttering a hand in their direction. Both times they looked surprised when the bartender didn't start making a colorful drink with a parasol in it.

The brunette without the wedding ring wasn't stunningly beautiful, and her drunken giggling didn't have an off switch. But she had nice, store-bought tits and long hair that she swished about like women in hair commercials. Most would find her quite a bit prettier than Elaine. It didn't hurt that her outfit showed of bare shoulders and the occasional glimpse of frilly green bra cups.

John got a scotch and downed it. The department of lying was getting him ready while the rest of his brain mulled the same damn thoughts. No matter how much he teased, he hadn't gotten up except to pee. It was all harmless.

The unringed brunette saw he was staring at her and made a production of adjusting her bra, in the process bending over and giving him a full flash of cleavage. He adjusted his hard on to stop the painful kink as it poked into his pant zipper.

"It doesn't look like I ruined you for women after all." He recognized the woman's voice, but didn't turn around. His prick shriveled. Her presence should have shocked him, but it felt almost destined. You see a spring trap; you expect a rat.

He heard the stool beside him being pulled out and smelled that light jasmine scent that was like so many perfumes, but still Sophie. It was the perfume with which she'd doused him, not just as ego castration, but as a signal to her sorority mates that Sumptuous Sophie had tamed the beast.

It was a measure of how deep the shit was around him that he didn't care. He turned his head so that she was a blob of color in his peripheral vision. "Are you stopping by or are you sticking around? If you're here for a drink, move down the bar. Otherwise, I'll leave."

He tried to end with a hateful glare, but despite everything, he was affected by her beauty. Her high cheekbones and pale skin, just led the gaze in to be captured by her soft violet eyes. Her dress showed off her sculpted shoulders and lean muscular arms.

"You're still upset?" she asked and he heard maturity in her voice. It was almost like she was upset at his words and not the cutesy pretend hurt.

"My life is swirling around the toilet as it is. No need for you to give it a flush. If you're in the mood for castrating, there's a room full of idiots who will happily volunteer."

Sophie gestured to the bartender and ordered a Manhattan. She looked back, but John's was watching a replay of a missed shot on goal on the tv. "That was a long time ago."

"Does that mean anything? It did happen though, didn't it? It wasn't something I made up. You think because the memory isn't fresh, it's forgivable?" His voice kept creeping up as he talked and he could feel people taking notice. He took a breath and lowered his voice. "Catch me in a thousand years and let's check."

The bartender looked over at his outburst, but Sophie waved her hand in dismissal of the attention. He put down her drink and retreated.

Sophie's eyes drifted down his body taking him in. "But you've moved on. Isn't there a statute of limitations when it came to apologies ... no matter how badly deserved?" She brushed her hair out of her eyes. "It shouldn't have gone as far as it did and it did happen in college. From the stories my sorority sisters told me it sounded like you deserved it."