Chapter 8: Restart / Switch User

Sometimes mister I feel sunny and wild
Lord I love to see my baby smile
Then dark clouds come rolling by
Two faces have I

At work, Mike hadn't been hungry; these days, he wasn't eating much at all. On his lunch break, he'd substituted an errand for a meal. Now, back at his office, he stared at the papers on his desk.

How did it come to this?

The cold formality of the document was a stark contrast to the warm, loving relationship he'd enjoyed for twelve years:

PETITIONER: John Michael Chancey

RESPONDENT: Jennifer Charlotte Chancey

I never liked my first name. Jennifer never liked her middle name. A case of "opposites attract," as they say? But they never say, "Opposites stay together."

Mike wasn't sure he was going to go through with a divorce; maybe they would just stay separated, at least while Mikey was still a minor. But after the umpteenth nightmare, Mike had forced himself to see the lawyer, get some information, and maybe get the process started. The lawyer had been quick; he'd turned the paperwork around in just a day.

Strange. All the dating, the wooing. The engagement, the wedding. Twelve years ... then you file this piece of paper, the lawyers handle it, and it's done. Your marriage is done ... undone.

Yet, Mike thought, the paperwork was just that—paperwork—like a death certificate. And divorce was just a process—a ceremony—like a funeral.

Before the certificate, before the funeral, someone dies; or, in the case of a marriage, a thing dies—a relationship. The paperwork, the ceremony—they're not what kills it. It's already dead.

Before the video arrived, Mike had come to believe Jennifer. That she'd not gotten physical with Coltez until that one night. That it had not been something she'd had planned. That it had been pretty tame. And most importantly, that she'd always loved him and always would.

Belief was one thing. Forgiveness was something else, and trust yet another thing; but he'd been moving towards them. He'd mostly gotten over how Jennifer deceived him in order to volunteer at the hospital. The fact that children were involved, terminally ill children—well, given Jennifer's personality and history, he could see how she could do something stupid over all that. In light of the consequences she'd suffered and the counseling she'd gone through, he didn't expect that she would deceive him again.

The physical stuff with Coltez had still been bothering him, but Coltez was a player, Jennifer was vulnerable ... it was an unusual, improbable combination of circumstances. And she'd stopped, before it had gotten serious—or so he'd been led to believe. It was one isolated incident in an otherwise spotless twelve-year marriage, for which Jennifer seemed desperate to atone. The more Mike had reconnected with Jennifer emotionally and sexually, the more possible it had seemed to him that he could put the whole mess behind him.

But now that he'd seen the video...

She was full of shit all along. She didn't just "go for a drink," she went to his damn apartment. She didn't just get "a little physical," she lovingly sucked his dick and then fucked him God knows how many ways. And the guy's a stud—of course she wanted him all along; probably at first sight.

All the questions that had haunted him after Black Sunday had returned with a vengeance. Had Jennifer ever really loved him? Had she thought she loved him, only to discover—twelve years later—that it was a shallow love, and that she wanted something more?

Or is she just psychotic? Sick in the head?

The crazy thing, Mike realized, was that he still loved Jennifer. He suspected, however, that the Jennifer he loved was just a memory of someone who once was—or a fantasy of someone who never was. The "current" Jennifer, the real Jennifer, the Jennifer in the video—that woman obviously didn't want or need him.

But she broke it off, on her own initiative. She's been to counseling with me. She's been loving, sexual ... Heck, since I moved out, she's still trying to get me back. It doesn't make any sense. Unless ... of course.

How did he know that Jennifer had dumped James? All he had to go by was her word, which was now manifestly worthless. She dumped him? More likely, Mike thought, it was the other way around.

Mike wasn't sure how or when the legal niceties—divorce, separation, whatever—were going to play out. For Mikey's sake, he decided to hold off on the paperwork for a while. But in all other respects, he decided, he should try to move on.

That same evening, Jennifer sat in the den, staring at the photograph of her sister.

What should I do, Sis? If only I wasn't alone. If only you were here ... to help me.

As Jennifer continued to stare, it happened again: The photograph seemed to change. Then, in her head, Jennifer heard her sister's voice—or a grown-up version of it. Was she losing her mind? It would be small wonder.

The photograph seemed to change again. The voice fell silent. Jennifer shouted at it, but nothing happened.

Feeling a strange compulsion, Jennifer took the small photograph out of the frame. She folded it and placed it in her purse. Then, as if a spell had dissipated, she found herself thinking clearly—more clearly than she had in a long time.

Yes, I know what I need to get. I just don't know how. Could I ... just go to his apartment and ask him for it? What if he doesn't have a copy anymore—what if he gave it all to Peter? What if he does have it, but just won't give it to me?

Jennifer's heart seized as another thought struck her.

And could I bear to see him again? Is that what Sis meant by my trial? No, she said that would be later ... but still, I can't really go to James, can I? Too much risk, too little hope of reward. On the other hand, what choice do I have?

It wasn't Friday yet—only Wednesday—but Mike wanted to see Mikey. He left work early and drove to Mikey's school in time for dismissal. He didn't want to talk to Jennifer, so he kept his distance as the children filed out of the building.

There's my boy. Damn, spying on a kid ... I feel like a pervert.

Once again, Mike wondered how it had come to this. He'd never seen himself as one of those divorced or separated men who dropped by school, seemingly irregularly, causing a stir among the moms.

Mike had decided that for Mikey's sake, he'd dodge questions about the breakup as best he could, but he wondered if Jennifer would handle it the same way. Would she instead tell family, friends, and colleagues the truth? Might she instead lie, as she'd lied to him?

Suddenly, Jennifer appeared at the top of a stairway, shouting at Mikey to get his attention. One of the moms gave her an "I'm watching him" in improvised, parent sign language. "Bring him in when you have to leave," Jennifer improvised back. "Okay," the mom signed off. Jennifer went back into the building, presumably to continue preparing for the next day's class.

As Mike watched her, his resolve to leave her faded. For a few precious moments, he saw his lover, his best friend, and the mother of his child. All seemed right in the world. It had happened every time he'd seen her since Black Friday.

But then, as on those previous occasions, the G-rated preview ended and the feature horror flick started. Instead of his loving wife, Mike saw a woman who had sat on a couch, moaning as a man who was not her husband kissed and fondled her. A woman who had deceived him. A woman who did not, in fact, love him.

"Hey, you could get arrested, hiding here and watching kids like a stalker."

Mike recognized the voice. It surprised him—not the voice, but the fact that he recognized it.

"Hey," he said, turning his head towards Collette.

Wow, she looks good.

The two women were a study in contrasts. Jennifer had short, brown hair; Collette's hair was long and blonde. Before the troubles, Jennifer had usually been tanned and toned to the max; whereas Collette's skin was fair, and her body had a more natural look.

Mike had used to love the way Jennifer had taken care of her body. Now, however, it hurt him to think about it. He wondered if she'd done it not for his sake but to get attention from others.

Attention from guys like Coltez.

"They're good together, aren't they?" said Collette. It rankled Mike, until he realized Collette was talking about Mikey and Bobby.

"Um ... yeah."

"Mike ... how are you doing? I've been worried sick about you ever since last week, when you told me that you'd ... moved out ... that Jennifer had ... you know."

Funny thing, that. I've hardly told anyone else. But when we ran into each other on Friday, it just came right out.

"Yeah, well ... thanks. I'm ... getting along. I went to a law—" Mike stopped himself.

Why is it that I feel like blabbing to this woman whom I hardly know? Is it because she's "been there, done that?" Or is it because I'm lonely, and she's attractive ... and available...

"Anyway," Mike said, "I'm not here to pick up Mikey. I just wanted to see him. I guess I should be going."

"You're not even going to say hello to him?"

"No ... I wasn't planning on it. We—Jennifer and I—had a bad scene here the other day. I don't need that again. Mikey doesn't need it, either."

Collette put her hand on Mike's back. It felt warm and comforting. On an impulse, Mike put his arm around her waist.

"So," he said, "how are you doing? I've been ... concerned about you, too. Are you ... you know, staying..."

Collette shifted a little but did not try to move away from Mike's arm. If anything, she ended up closer to him.

"Yes," she answered, "I'm still on the wagon. It's getting easier; a little easier. Bobby's noticed a difference, too. I never realized how much I was hurting him with..."

Collette started to sob. As she did, her hand moved up Mike's back to his far shoulder and squeezed it. In response, Mike held her a little tighter with his arm. She, in turn, started to lean her head on his near shoulder. She stopped herself, but Mike had noticed.

"That's what kills me the most," he said. "What's going to happen to Mikey if ... Anyway, I'm impressed with how you're ... taking care of yourself, and Bobby. You should be very proud. I hope I can be that strong, for Mikey."

Out of the corner of his eye, Mike caught Collette blushing—and smiling. Her posture suddenly improved. Yet, he noticed, she was a little antsy; maybe nervous?

Since Collette's revelation and apology some time ago, Mike had forgotten any interest she seemed to have in him. Reeling from Jennifer's blow to his self-esteem and having learned that Collette had been a little unbalanced when she'd flirted with him, Mike had assumed that the new-and-improving Collette would be on to greener pastures before long.

But maybe it's not like that—not like that at all? Her hand is almost on my neck, now! I'm holding her pretty tight, and she's not moving away ... even though her son is over there, ready to be picked up.

"So," he said, "how's your weekend shaping up? Got any hot dates?"

Collette shifted again and drew a sharp breath, then huffed in sarcasm.

"Yeah, right ... divorcée with child ... make that recovering-alcoholic divorcée with child. Real 'hot date' material! I used to ... well, anyway, I'm not ... actively ... if you know what I mean."

Mike was curious as to how far he could take this line of conversation.

"Why not? You're beautiful, your son is a good kid..."

Collette blushed and smiled again.

" ... you're not living with your parents..."

She giggled.

" ... your shoes are tied..."

She burst out laughing.

" ... for guys like me, at my age ... you'd be quite a catch! I mean, sorry, that's not much of a compliment..."

"Mike," she blurted out, "anything from you is a huge..."

After her voice trailed off, an awkward silence fell upon them. Mike was pleased that he'd managed to make a pretty girl laugh, blush, and practically embrace him. Yet, he also felt guilty.

What am I doing? I know she's lonely and vulnerable, maybe a little keen on me, and I'm acting like ... like some player.

Mike started to disentangle from Collette. As soon as he started, she did so as well, but he noticed that she seemed a little flushed.

In the yard, the games were breaking up. "Mikey," shouted one of the remaining moms, "come on! Let's get you to your mother!" The reference to Mikey's mother brought a pained look to Mike's face.

"Nice to, um ... nice to see you," said Collette, straightening her clothes. "I've got to go get Bobby now."

"Yeah, time for me to get going also. Nice to see you too, Collette. I'll, um, be here Friday..."

Why did I say that?

"Well then, maybe I'll see you," Collette said shyly, "and Bobby would sure like that play date ... anyway, take care, Mike."

As he watched Collette walk away, Mike felt himself waiting for something, but he didn't know what it was—until it happened. Collette looked back at him. Seeing that Mike was watching her, she waved, looking pleased but embarrassed. Before Mike could wave back, she turned away and picked up her pace.

A little later that same day, Jennifer sat on a bench in a park not far from school, watching Mikey cavort on a huge play structure. She'd promised herself she'd be strong for the encounter to come, but already something unexpected had her fighting back tears. Mikey was talking to himself, seemingly reacting to an imaginary play mate.

His father. They played for an hour here once. Some game only a boy and a boy at heart could make up. Nothing I could ever even imagine.

Jennifer was desperate—and so was her plan. She hoped she still had some magic, some power to exploit. But as she'd looked at herself in the mirror this morning, she'd not seen the glow she'd once been able to project. The man she was waiting to meet—would he even recognize her?

"Hello, Jennifer," said a familiar voice.

Swallowing hard, Jennifer tore her gaze away from Mikey, turned her head, and looked up at the man she never thought she would see again in her life.

"Hello, Peter ... th-thank you for coming."

"May I sit down?"

"Of c-course. Please."

There was an awkward silence as Jennifer looked back at Mikey.

"Jennifer," Peter said in wounded tone, "after our last time together, I must say I was very ambivalent about meeting you here. When I received your message, I hoped that perhaps you'd finally forgiven me for my ... lapse in judgment. However, I also had to wonder if you just wanted to try to ... hurt me some more."

Jennifer took a deep breath.

"Peter, we've both done things that we regret. The past is what it is; I'm dealing with my future, now. If you were ever really my friend ... if you ever really wanted to be something more ... I'm hoping you can find it in your heart to help me."

"Help?" Peter asked, obviously intrigued.

"I know you sent the video to Mike," Jennifer continued, looking Peter in the eyes. He shifted, uncomfortably, and began to say something—only to stutter. Then, he seemed to mutter something under his breath—a rebuke to himself? Jennifer was encouraged.

Maybe this will work! Maybe he still has a weak spot for me!

"Peter," she continued, "I upset you. I said ... and did ... a terribly mean thing. What you did in retaliation was wrong, but ... I provoked you. I'm sorry."

Peter stared at her with an inscrutable face.

"I need the video, Peter. All of it."

Peter cracked a smile. There was something genuine yet creepy about it. Jennifer looked away, checking on Mikey.

"Jennifer, my dear old friend," Peter said, all hesitation suddenly gone. "If you're offering me an apology, I accept. I have already apologized to you, but allow me to do so again. Unfortunately, however, I'm not sure what you mean by this video?"

Jennifer's heart sank. Had she been wrong? Had James really sent the video?

No. That still makes no sense. It was Peter ... he's just tormenting me.

"Peter, I know it was you. James had no reason."

Though it pained her to look at him, Jennifer watched Peter's reaction. He was good, she gave him that—but she saw a glimmer of recognition in his face. She'd hit home.

"Jennifer, let's just say, hypothetically, that I possessed some ... film ... involving James and you. A complete set of film, more than what you apparently already have. Why would you want it?"

Good question. I'm not sure I do. But it's my only hope.

"I'm sorry, Peter, you'll just have to accept my request for what it is."

After a pause, Peter responded. "Well, Jen," he said, slipping into his nickname for her—a nickname she had tolerated from very few people in her life. "Of course I won't pry into why you want it, but I am curious as to why you think I would give you this video, if I had it."

Jennifer's stomach began to knot. She sensed a change in Peter. The hope she'd felt at the beginning of the conversation was starting to fade.

"Peter, you were my friend for fifteen years. You said you ... you said you even loved me. I'm asking you a favor, a simple favor that costs you nothing. Please..."

Peter put his arm around her shoulders. Her instinct was to recoil, to shout; but this was a public place, and she did not want to cause a stir. If Peter needed to play a little game before relenting ... she would just have to put up with it.

"Jen, I was indeed your friend, and I wanted to be more. I apologized profusely for what my love drove me to do. But then you wounded me, and I haven't seen you since. Perhaps turning over a film ... if I had it ... would cost me nothing, but from my perspective that's not the issue. The issue is: what would I have to gain?"