Looking Back Instead of Forward

Looking Back Instead of Forward

Untenable actions with lifelong friend

Thought I'd take a stab at this trope, although I've been avoiding it for nearly sixty stories. I guess it's time. Many have been written; most didn't receive favorable marks. It's a tough scenario to write with any suspension of disbelief. Be warned, to make it more believable, this story is dialogue-heavy.

My two favorites, I didn't have time to look up. The first was about some huge bully of a Scotsman brother-in-law, where the wife told the family on a conference call that she was going to let him impregnate her so her sister could have a baby. The second was about a wife who left for a weekend, telling her hubby upfront, but wouldn't give the why, where, or who. The hubby eventually gave her the benefit of the doubt, only to find out she had a weekend lesbian affair with a woman she idolized in high school. There was a lot of golfing in that story! If any readers recall the story and author, please include them in the comments for proper credit.

I want to thank Strikesandballs, as always, for the editing and suggestions. I think I only recognize him about every third story, and that's just not right. He's my third editor since I started writing on this site, and the best by far. The editing is always great, regarding grammar and punctuation (unless we're talking about commas, which he, I, and Mr. Grammarly never seem to agree on; I'm sure most authors have that trouble), but his thoughtful suggestions about the story arc or the character interactions are always helpful. Even in the rare case they appear parenthetical, it makes me pause and think, "If he didn't get it, or the character's personality didn't jump out, then I need to go back and rewrite until it does." Thanks, S&B!

Relax; it's just a story, people.

[Copyright 2025, all rights reserved, including section 107 of US and international copyright law. Conversion of this work to audio file is prohibited.]

It was the end of another long week, I thought as I climbed behind the wheel of my car in the Logan International Airport short-term parking. I still had to drive to our home in Wayland, a Boston suburb west of the city.

My job had been crazy for a few months now. I'd always traveled for work, but lately the new clients and the workload piled up rapidly. I'm a software consultant. That can mean a lot of different things, but for my Fortune 100 company, it meant I traveled to the client's site to run simulations after R&D had finished with their initial launch of the product.

I was excited to see my wife, Meridee, since I'd been in Dallas since Tuesday. We met at the University of North Carolina in our junior year, and our introduction was quite unusual. I was introduced to Meridee, Mer, by her friends, family, and me, by her friend, Aimee. Nothing too strange there, except I was dating Aimee at the time and had been since we met about a month-and-a-half earlier.

Although Aimee went to the same university as Meridee and me, that's not how I met her. Instead, I stopped during a run one Saturday morning to observe a Corn Hole tournament, of all things, at a park just off campus.

As I watched a few teams warming up, a subdued voice came from my left side. "Do you already have a partner?" she asked.

Turning toward the voice, I found a tentative young lady, gorgeous and not petite, but not overweight either. She fit the bill for that body type I'm most attracted to, which you might call pleasantly plump. In Aimee's case, her upper arms were filled out, her stomach flat and her waist the most petite part of her. Later, as I walked behind her to the registration table, I witnessed the perfectly shaped bubble butt, tight and athletic, but out of proportion to her legs and midsection.

"Uh, no," I said, distracted. "I'm... I'm not in the tournament. I just stopped to watch."

"Well, you are now," she teased. Her smile was tantalizing. I knew, even though she sounded like she was joking, she meant every word. I wondered how I could tell that without knowing anything about her.

She reached out her hand and introduced herself. "I took the proffered hand and said, "I'm Josiah. Ji for short. Um... I'm not very good. Are you sure you want me as a partner?"

I realized the double entendre as soon as the words left my lips, and blushed. Aimee giggled.

"Come on, Romeo," she said with a million-dollar smile. "We need to register." That was how we began, and Aimee remained friends with Meridee and me all along. No, we didn't win the tourney, but we had a great time and managed to finish in 6th place.

Aimee and I went out together for about six weeks. It wasn't really dating; we had no expectations at the time except to have fun. I have very fond memories of that time. Aimee was a strong-willed, no-nonsense kind of woman. Of the three school parties we attended, Aimee had no use for me protecting her when other guys got pushy or tried to act macho. She turned them into gelatin.

"I'm the youngest child," she said smartly. "My older siblings are all boys."

Aimee and I didn't have sex during that time, but we made out until our lips chapped. My hands also got a complete topography lesson. She thrilled me with her zeal and positive outlook on life. She was up for lots of things, like a play at our liberal arts auditorium and midnight bowling the following night. I wondered if the woman ever had a bad day.

My reminisces thoughts were interrupted as I turned down my street. I was missing Mer and looked forward to an evening of cuddling and later making love to my bride.

The house was dark inside and the porch light was on. Meridee's car wasn't in the driveway. The clock on my navigation screen indicated it was 7:10. I dragged my bag into the house and called out for her, but there was no response. Before I could get through the kitchen to check the garage, I saw the envelope in her handwriting leaning up against the flower vase on our dining table. I froze.

Meridee would normally leave me a note if she were late or running an errand, but a formal envelope? I picked it up as if it were a snake and tore it open.

Ji, Baby,

Please don't be angry with me. I learned on Wednesday that a dear friend has cancer of the pancreas. It's terminal. I had to go and visit. I'll be home next Friday. I love you very much, and I'm sorry I couldn't be there for your return home. I didn't tell you when we talked last night, although I've known for a few days, because I hadn't made the decision entirely. I took a few days off work. I prepared a few meals for you, and they are in the fridge.

Aimee should be over sometime this weekend to keep you company. She mentioned dragging you to a play, I think "Les Misérables" in the city. I hope you two have fun. Please don't forget to check the mailbox.

Love, always,

Me

I immediately picked up my phone to make sure she was okay to drive. I knew my wife well enough after five years of marriage. If she had a friend who was dying, she could be very emotional and I wanted to make sure she was safe. I also wanted to be supportive and let her know I loved her, offering anything I could to be helpful. I pushed my wife's picture on the screen. A familiar phone in the cradle on our kitchen counter rang immediately.

Why would she leave her phone behind? An eerie shiver ran up my spine but I quickly dismissed it. She'd explained herself, no more or less than she always had.

When I first met Meridee, she was Merideth. She hated the name, and six months after I met her, she changed it. She liked the way Amiee's name was spelled, so she sort of copied her. If you think she was impulsive, a ditz, you'd be mistaken.

The zest and zeal for life that Aimee had, Mer had infinitely more. It took me a couple of years to be able to explain her properly to family and friends who asked about her. The best way I could describe her was that if there was fun somewhere, Meridee would be found running full speed toward it, and if there was trouble, she'd be running even faster.

That was Mer; everything was at full speed, yet almost everything was planned. As hot as Aimee was, as wonderful a person, she quickly became a distant second to Meridee. In fact, after just a few weeks, from the time Aimee introduced us, she asked me to come pick her up and 'broke up' with me, even though we hadn't made or said anything formal.

"You two were made for each other," she told me after I asked why. Her smile was sincere enough, so I took her phrasing to mean what it intended.

That wasn't the end of Aimee, though. Meridee fed off of her positive energy, and I think Aimee needed her high-octane, 'always on the move' demeanor. It was actually more of a lifestyle. Meridee seemed like the kind of old soul who'd somehow glimpsed the future and was deathly afraid to miss a single moment of life. I found her to be intoxicating.

To the casual campus observer, or when I described the two, people probably assumed I was double-dipping, having wild threesomes with the two hotties. That wasn't the case. From the day of my conversation with Aimee, she never so much as flirted with me, except in a way where not only Mer, but anyone within earshot knew it was a joke.

The two women differed in many ways, though. Meridee was an only child, a 'grand mistake' as she often referred to herself. Her parents had her when they were in their forties, finally coming to the realization that they'd be incomplete without at least one child. Her father died of a massive heart attack just before her high school graduation. The way she skimmed over that part of her life to me was in the same positive vein as everything else, but I knew that had to sting a lot. By the time I met Mer, her mother was living alone and lonely, not wanting to take on the burden of trying to find a new man after a long, successful marriage. I thought she was just marking time, and Mer agreed.

In contrast, Aimee's mom had her when she was only sixteen. Luckily, her father was raised right and didn't try to shun his responsibilities. Both sets of parents helped the two young lovers, and they were married the summer before their junior year. I met them at our college graduation ceremony, and Mrs. Porter, at 35, was an incredible, more mature version of her daughter. Aimee also had three younger siblings.

Once Meridee and I started dating exclusively, we both talked about our childhoods, family and friends. Mer didn't have the big family Aimee did, but she had two very close, long-term friends.

Janet, a friend since kindergarten, died in a helicopter accident while vacationing with her parents in Coeur d'Alene. An inexperienced biplane pilot let his altitude slip while both aircraft were sightseeing. That also happened when Meridee was in high school.

Her other friend was a guy, Dennis Praeger. She met him at preschool daycare, and they remained friends until college. When she told me a little about Dennis, I suppose I failed to hide my sour face.

"Come on, Ji," she said thoughtfully. "Don't be jealous. We tried dating in high school, but it just didn't feel right. We decided our friendship was worth more than some sexual experimentation. He'll always be my friend."

She went on to explain that they'd made promises to one another, like always being there for each other. I told her about similar pacts I'd made with a few childhood friends. She said he helped her mightily after the death of her dad.

By graduation, Meridee and I were deeply in love and planning to get married. Her degree was in marketing, while mine was in software architecture. We planned for me to be the major breadwinner, as it would take time for Meridee to settle into a company and earn her stripes, as she put it.

You'd expect a woman like I described Meridee to want a full-experience wedding, but I found she had a practical side, too. Her father had left a reasonable sum of money for Mom and his only daughter, but she wanted something simple that represented our love for one another, not the glitz and glamour route.

That was the only time I ever met Dennis Praeger. It was the only time I ever met any of her friends from before college. Mer's mother looked like she was on her last adventure, with warm smiles, yet also worn down. Dennis stayed in the background for most of the reception, but Meridee found him after the photos, meal, and cake-cutting and dragged him onto the dance floor. That twinge of jealousy was back, but I resisted it. He'd been nothing but a gentleman, never trying to hog her time or make a big deal of their friendship.

Five years in, I felt very fortunate to have found Mer. She was my everything. Everything we did, we did it with passion. She wouldn't have it any other way. She often went with Aimee to her family events, sometimes dragging me along, but on other occasions, she would ask if I would be okay sitting one out. Aimee thought she might be living vicariously through Aimee's family.

Otherwise, after two years of dating and five years married, Mer had gotten to the point where if something was happening, a party, some event, regardless of significance, she'd simply remind me, "We have this or that on Friday, and don't forget the neighborhood BBQ on Sunday."

I didn't push because it didn't bother me. She never bothered me if I wanted to do something on my own, and if she came and 'told' me the schedule, when I knew there was a conflict, I would tell her, she'd agree and try to shuffle things.

With our first five years being robust as a couple, I believed we were going the distance. At least I had no cause to think otherwise.

That first night with her at her friend's, I tried to ignore the subtle concerns, and they were subtle because I trusted Meridee with my life. Still, her phone sitting in that cradle was something out of character for her. The note was a kind gesture, but why not simply call me? We discussed various topics throughout the day. She had to know I'd worry.

Between chores, dinner, and racing thoughts, I finally called Aimee. Finally, because I didn't want to be 'that guy'. The one to whom Aimee would report back to Mer. I didn't want to seem untrusting, but I couldn't take it.

After pleasantries, I got right to it. "Aim, do you know where Mer went?" I asked, trying hard to conceal my concerns.

"I know she left to visit a sick friend," Aimee said without hesitation. "She told me she'd be gone up to a week and asked if I would keep you company." It fit with the note.

"Are you okay, Ji?" she asked, now sounding concerned herself.

"I suppose," I admitted. "It's just how... just the way she left that both... seems weird. She left me a note that was very ambiguous and totally unlike her."

"Well, she did ask if I still had tickets to the theatre tomorrow night and if I had an extra," she told me. "When I told her they'd come as a pair, she wanted to know if I minded having you along to enjoy it with. I told her of course."

"Do you know who this friend of hers is?" My will had lasted less than a minute as those words just fell out of my mouth.

"No, she didn't say, and I didn't ask," Aimee was quiet for a moment. "Are you sure you're alright, Josiah? We can go to dinner or something, if you'd like."

"No, no," I opined. "That's fine. I'm fine. You know me, a big worrywart."

"Okay, if you say so," she replied in a teasing manner. "Would you like to hang out downtown tomorrow before the play? I was planning on doing some shopping in the afternoon, but I know how boring that would be for you. We could go to Faneuil Marketplace and maybe have dinner at the new Italian restaurant on Newbury Street."

"Yeah, sounds like a plan," I said, still distracted. It was even more odd that Meridee didn't tell either of us about this friend.

"Ji?" her voice brought me out of my stupor. "You still there?"

"Yeah, sorry, the phone slipped."

"Oh," she sounded suspicious now. I needed to end the call. "You want to pick me up on the way into the city? You can pay for gas since I have the ticket. We can go Dutch for the meal or you can pay since I'm such a good friend."

Aimee had gone to being playful. I didn't want to tip my hand further. "That sounds great, Aim. I'll pick you up at, say, two? And, hey, I'm not wearing a suit, so dress accordingly."

Aimee laughed at me, and we discussed coordinating our casual wardrobes, then said our goodbyes. I was glad to hang up.

I felt like some weight had been lifted off me as I climbed into bed later that night. Some of the weight, I say, because I felt that it was terribly irresponsible of Meridee to leave the way she did, no contact info, no phone--just a half-assed note. We'd have a long discussion about it when she returned, and I expected her to comply, never to pull something like this again.

Spending the day with Aimee took my mind mostly off of where my wife was and my thoughts of the previous day. Aim was always fun, but we hadn't spent any time alone together since Meridee and I wed. Sure, she was always at get-togethers with friends, or it would be just the three of us. That afternoon, I saw and recognized a side of Aimee that had always belonged exclusively to us.

I casually wondered why I'd never noticed that she acted differently when Mer was present. Maybe it was a girl thing, maybe not. I'd forgotten this version of Aimee, the one I dated for six weeks back in college. I kept asking myself which was her true self.

After a wonderful day, an expensive but exquisite dinner, and the show, we stopped at a local hangout near Aimee's home. After some easy-going conversation, I asked the question that had been sitting in the front of my mind.

"Aim," I carefully started. "Why did you give up on us after you introduced me and Mer?"

She seemed a little put off, mixed with surprise at my question.

"Are you upset that I did?" A question for a question, I thought, just like a woman.

"I mean, I'm happily married now," I took the long route. "I guess I'm just curious, is all. I thought we had a good thing going. You shocked me when you told me that Mer and I belonged together."

"Well, curiosity killed the cat," she smirked. "Like I told you at the wedding, you're welcome. You two are perfect together and simply radiate in each other. A girl needs to know when it's time to leave... so I did. No more complicated than that."

On Sunday, I found myself busy with household chores and yardwork. I still had that nagging feeling and knew of the impending argument that would happen when she arrived home. With her being gone for a week, I had plenty to do to look after myself and get ready for work the next day. That night, I tried to veg in front of the TV with a baseball game. Inside, I was getting angrier. Why wouldn't she at least call me? She'd never pulled this kind of shit before. It took my mind to a dark place.

Monday night, I wasn't home from work ten minutes when Aimee arrived, carrying a huge takeout bag from Chipotle.

"I figured you would need some company and some food. I even brought a video." She said pleasantly. Still, it seemed contrived for her. Maybe it was her tone. Again, the conversation was light and full of laughter. She told me how much her job and her boss sucked. I found myself complaining a little about my own. We cleaned up and put the leftovers in the fridge and headed off to watch the video. She sat next to me on the couch. I didn't say anything, but her close proximity and slight perfume put me on guard.

When we paused the movie at the halfway point to refill our glasses and take a bathroom break, I realized Aimee was nearly on top of me. As I poured more wine my first thought was to take a seat in my recliner instead of where I was sitting. That would be way too obvious, was my second thought, and mean; even hurtful. Surely Aimee wasn't trying to seduce me, or anything nefarious, for that matter. I decided to remain vigilant and deal with things as they occurred.

Aimee returned, and after I used the restroom, we started the video. I made sure to sit about as far from her as when we first got situated for the movie.

She inched her way back closer to me but took no other action. After the movie was finished, we said our goodbyes, Aimee promising to return the following night. She told me to pick the movie for tomorrow, but nothing from the Marvel universe.

I lay in bed thinking about her behavior. Aimee was always nice to me. We hadn't dated long enough to really get to know each other, let alone develop much intimacy. Sure, there were kisses, some very passionate. Hands roamed, and breathing labored as our arousal soared. Maybe what happened during the movie was more my overactive imagination than anything she'd done. Besides, I couldn't believe she'd try to betray her friendship for some cheap thrill with me.

I got off work a little early on Wednesday. I fumbled through our video library for an old movie I thought she would love, but couldn't remember the name. Finally, near the bottom of the movie stack, I found it: "Same Time Next Year" with Allan Alda.

Aimee was running late. I texted her but she didn't respond. I was about to call when she came rumbling through the door, frazzled.

"What happened?" I asked with concern. "You look upset."

"I couldn't find my damned car!" she hollered. She held up two grocery bags. I saw you guys still have the air fryer and decided we should treat ourselves to a couple of ribeye steaks. I got some fresh green beans to go with. I thought baked potatoes might be overdoing it.

"When I got to the parking lot," she continued, "I... I forgot where I parked. I'd been in such a rush. My stupid key fob doesn't work. I mean, it unlocks the door, but no horn or lights blinking. It took me like twenty minutes to remember I'd parked on the left side of the entrance instead of the right."

I helped Aimee prepare the meal. Honestly, I'd already planned spaghetti, but I didn't mention it in light of her troubles. She blistered the beans in garlic and soy sauce while I... well, while the Ninja cooked the meat.

After our bellies were full, Aimee asked if I minded if she used our shower. Again, it felt weird, but it certainly wouldn't be the first time she'd showered here. However, it would be a first without Mer present. I still agreed and cleaned the kitchen. She came down wearing one of Meridee's T-shirts and yoga pants along with a long hotel robe that my wife and I had 'borrowed' from a hotel.

I headed up to get a quick shower myself and de-stress. While there, I thought about Aimee's problem. I was no mechanic but figured there must be a YouTube video explaining the problem and how to fix it. I decided to try looking it up before she left for the night. As I dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, it struck me that I had the Chevy app on my phone.

That was significant because I drove a 2011 Silverado. I loved that truck, its tow package, and all the extras. Meridee drove a 2022 Malibu. Both vehicles came equipped with OnStar when I bought the cars but we didn't renew when the free subscription expired. I discovered that the Chevy app could track our vehicles' whereabouts, so I downloaded it and set it up at the time.

For a moment, I felt guilty thinking about what I wanted to do. Guilty just from considering it. Then I remembered the note she left me, the one missing all the critical information she should have included, and my mind was made up.

The Malibu was at an address in East Greenbush, New York, a suburb of Albany. That didn't provide any clue. I clicked Google Earth and zoomed in. I was looking at what looked like a condominium complex, a bank of six, it appeared.

Switching to Safari, I used White Pages reverse look-up for that address. Sure enough, the search yielded eight names, possibly a few of whom no longer lived there. I scrolled down the list to see if I recognized any of them.

They say that knowledge is power, and I'm sure there's some truth to that. I didn't feel very powerful in that moment. In fact, I felt like I might pass out, as I became light-headed. The steak and beans did somersaults in my stomach.

I couldn't believe my eyes. I wouldn't accept that Mer had done this to me. I sat there staring at my phone, trying to will it to change the information set before me. I sat there, reviewing my life with Meridee so far - all the good and some of the bad. The only thing that brought me back to the present was Aimee's voice asking if I was alright, and when I was coming down. I mumbled something about, 'in a minute.'

The reverse lookup did not provide a phone number. I'd have to drag that out of Aimee, my former friend.

She was sitting in my recliner, doing something with her social media when I appeared.

"Go get dressed," I demanded. At first, she was so involved with what she was doing that she didn't even look up upon hearing my harsh tone.

"Aimee!" I shouted. "Did you hear me?"

That got her attention. She quickly looked up to see me standing there. "No. What? What is it?" she asked.

"I said, go get dressed," I ordered. "You're leaving."

"Why?" she asked, confused. "What's wrong?"

"You're what's wrong," I was still yelling. "I want you the fuck out of here, now!"

She stood, seemingly to match my outrage. "What's going on, Ji? What have I done? I don't understand why you're treating me this way."

"Dennis Praeger is what's going on, bitch."

She stood there, surprise, confusion, probably anger at what I'd called her. There was no pity or any other expression of acknowledgement. I thought there should be.

"Please, Josiah, let's sit and talk..." I cut her off.

"NO! Just go get dressed," I was starting to lose it. "You're not wearing the slut's clothes home."

Aimee looked like I slapped her. She took off up the stairs and returned five minutes later in her work clothes. In the meantime, I'd grabbed a beer and three fingers of good whiskey, then sank down into my chair. I was already exhausted and had barely started to let my emotions out.

"Please, Ji, please," she implored. "Don't throw me out. Let me stay with you. Let me help you, please."

"Call the bitch," I said in a low, defeated voice. "I'm sure she left you with his number."

"No," she said, matching my tone. "I won't unless you promise to let me stay here with you."

"For what?" my voice rising again. "You gonna fuck me for her? Huh? Make things all nice and even? Is that the plan?"

"What?" she seemed shocked. "No. NO! She did offer permission for that, but it was never something I considered. You're not that kind of man. Not someone who'd consider two wrongs making a right."

"Well, at least you figured something out," I repeated. "Call her. Then I'll listen for a minute or two."

Aimee, not seeing a choice, picked up her phone, scrolled, and then touched the screen. Without much fanfare, her eyes grew large, and a look of utter disbelief overtook her. She slowly handed me the phone.

"The number you have called is no longer in service", it said. I handed it back to her. I wanted so badly to throw it at her face.

"See," I said. "Doesn't feel very good, does it? Being fucked over royally."

Aimee, still shocked, didn't respond.

"Alright, Aimee," I motioned for the couch. "You have two minutes. Tell me why my wife is cheating on me with her ex-boyfriend."

"She's not cheating," Aimee adamantly replied as she sat. "Dennis is sick. He has stage four Pancreatic cancer, just like his father died from. She's there for him. Please understand, Ji, they made... the two of them made promises, like you two made vows. She's known him since preschool."

"Cut the horseshit, Aim," I got louder and angrier. "I know my wife. Promises, vows, whatever. If she's there for a week and didn't tell me where she was going, then the comforting includes sex. You know her as well as I do. She'll jump into her final hurrah with all the zeal she approaches the rest of her life with. Mer wouldn't let Dennis slip away into the netherworld without a proper send-off. She's a cheater. At least I found out that she has a semi-plausible reason, but that doesn't change the facts."

"I'm sure that's accurate," she agreed. "Even that 'cheater' part, from a certain perspective. But you just said it yourself, the way she is, the way she lives her life - full steam ahead. Let me ask you this: if you took the intimacy out of the equation, how bad would it be? How long would it take you to forgive her?"

"That's an ambiguous line of questioning," I responded. "First, the sex matters - a lot. However, the key part you missed is how she approached it. The subterfuge, the ruse, setting you up to 'visit'... in my mind, not telling me, in my mind, is the same as lying. If she could so easily and callously make an important decision like this - a marriage-altering decision - why would I stick around and wait for the next time? What kind of faith should I have in her to think straight the next time something major comes up? Something a couple should discuss and decide together."

"I can see your point, but..."

"Further," I interrupted, being on a roll. "She's incredibly disrespectful. Zero respect, in fact. Leaves her phone at home so I won't interrupt or cause a problem. Fuck her. Fuck her note, and fuck you for helping her. Now get lost, Aimee."

I shot up out of my chair, scaring her. She truly looked afraid of me. "I'm not going to hit you, Aimee," I stated. "I just want you to go. No more talk. You can pretend that you were here for me, but we both know it was for her."

Aimee wanted to challenge that, and I could see it. I could sense she wanted to comfort me as well, but I had no need for it. I wanted to spend the night with my rage; to let it flow through me like the 'force.' Tomorrow, I wanted it to be subsiding so I could start planning the rest of my life. I had no intention of being confused when she returned. I wanted everything figured out because otherwise she'd make it about her. I didn't want a bunch of half-assed explanations, apologies, and her twisting my words as we went back and forth.

Aimee stood in front of me, slipping her purse onto her shoulder. "I'm very sorry, Ji. I know you are very upset, and you have every right. You're wrong that I'm in it with her, though. I told her what she was doing was a mistake, and I tried repeatedly to talk her out of it. You know how she is when her mind is made up. I'm here for you anytime you need me. After this anger subsides, you're going to need an ear or a shoulder. Anytime you need to talk, or to have a friend."

With that, she turned and left, being smart enough to let the moment pass and not try for a hug. I closed the door and threw back the whiskey, letting the burn permeate my chest, then poured another glass. The beer was just to keep me breathing.

Even with that, sleep did not come easily. I wasn't some Fred Flintstone or Desi Arnaz type. I understood what was happening and what would happen. She'd talked herself into her actions. If she were single, I'd agree with them. She'd convinced herself she was in the right, discounting the fact that she had to sneak off, and leave me no way to contact her or talk her out of it. I'm sure she'd have a perfectly reasonable excuse for that when she next saw me.

By the morning, I'd had a fair amount of sleep and was carrying the weight of a hefty hangover. Nothing that strong coffee and four eggs with bacon couldn't solve. My rage was mainly dissipated, replaced by a feeling of melancholy.

I looked around the apartment with new eyes. Without being close enough to the CD and DVD rack, I could pick out what I wanted. I'd keep our shared laptop, too, even though I had one provided by my employer. She could keep the frilly master bedroom set. The one in the spare room was mine from before we married, anyway. I went back to my eggs, knowing I'd spend some time that morning sorting things into his and her piles.

The banking would be simpler on the one hand, and trickier on the other. Mer worked at Walmart full time. Some people scoffed at that, but she'd been promoted to Team Lead and recently to Coach. She was making $75,000 per year plus a bonus. Superstore managers all earned over $200,000, accompanied by numerous perks, benefits, and bonuses. The insurance was better on her plan, so I'd have to get my own.

I was a financial consultant with Charles Schwab, which is a fancy name for a salesperson. My job entailed explaining our suite of financial products and getting people to buy. My goal was to learn as much as I could and then start my own business.

Meridee had a plan for children, of course. I'd say it was her plan because I went along with it when she explained. We'd start two years from where we were right then, so our two children would be leaving the nest around the time we were fifty. Well, exactly when we were fifty. She said she wanted us to be young and healthy enough to enjoy our sunset years and still be alive to see our grandkids get married.

Thinking about that brought tears to my eyes for the first time since I tracked her car. All those big plans, up in smoke. I wiped my eyes roughly and sat up straight, looking to regain control. Then I thought, 'Fuck it.' Might as well get that part out of the way before she gets back, so I did. The tears washed away my sadness. I loved Meridee, damn, I did. She stole that love and then abused it.

Later that afternoon, it finally dawned on me that my discovery and her treachery were still too raw. There was no way I'd be ready to see her the next day, let alone talk to her. I checked our local area for extended-stay hotels and found that to be a good option in the short term, so I booked one for Friday night. That would provide me with a better focus to get our money and assets sorted.

I slept well that night for some reason. I suppose it was because I'd developed a plan. The morning found me up early, showered, and with the stuff that I needed in my car. After having called in sick the previous day, I'd be able to stay busy all day.

At lunchtime, I decided to get a deli sandwich from the place next door to our offices and work while I ate. That was when I received the first text from my wife's phone.

"I'm home, baby. What would you like me to make for dinner tonight?"

She played it exactly as I imagined. I replied: "Not sure I'd be hungry for anything you made me. In fact, I'm sure of it."

Five minutes later, my phone chimed again. "Okay, I see. Well then, what time will you be home to talk about it?"

"Not sure. I have some things to do." Let her digest that.

About two hours later, at 1:45, my phone showed she was calling. I didn't answer. She called back twice in ten minutes.

"I'm in a meeting. Whatever you need will have to wait."

She texted back quickly. "What I need is to talk to my husband. I know you're hurting, and I hate that I'm the cause of it. I see some of your clothes and things are gone. If you need some time to yourself, I understand. Please let me know when you are coming home."

I knew it was petty and stupid, but I needed to try to give her a little bit of how she made me feel. "Let me consult my calendar later today and I'll get back to you."

The stupid bitch thought she could begin by discussing a menu. She wanted to talk, hah! She knew I was hurting, but what could she do about it? I tried hard to think what kind of wisdom I'd expend if the shoe was on the other foot and I had to go home and explain to Meridee about me fucking my childhood sweetheart for a week behind her back.

I didn't hear from my wife that night, but I did hear from Aimee. She texted me just after 8:00. "How are you holding up?" I was in the middle of reviewing our financial spreadsheet and trying to determine what needed to be paid, aside from the joint credit card, which I had paid off the previous day.

"As good as can be expected, I suppose."

The phone rang right away and seeing it was Aimee, I answered.

"Hello, Ji," she said glumly. "How are you really?"

"I'm working through it, Aim," I honestly stated. "Trying to figure out what my life looks like in the immediate and long-term. Separating from a spouse turns out to be trickier than I thought before yesterday."

"What?" she gasped. "Ji, don't you think it's a bit early for that? I mean, you haven't even talked to her yet."

"What do you expect, Aimee? I don't have any trust in her right now. I need to look out for myself. There's no telling what she has planned."

"So, you're going straight to divorce? I know you're angry, but don't you think letting your anger dissipate a bit would be the wisest thing?"

"Hold on, Aimee," I rebuked her. "When you say, 'my anger,' you're making her the victim, which she is not. You should be saying something like 'I know her utter betrayal has hurt you deeply'. I think you may have to choose a side here, at least if you and I are going to remain friends."

The line was silent. I doubt that Aimee expected my reaction or this line of discussion. She was right, though. I was still angry, and bitterness was beginning to settle in.

"Don't make me do that, Ji," she pleaded. "I guess I'm just hoping for a good outcome here."

"Depends on your definition of good," I said. I told her I needed to end the call and get back to my computer.

Aimee continued the next morning. She wanted to know my plans for the day. I told her I wasn't exactly sure, but I didn't want or need company, least of all from my wife's co-conspirator. I spent the morning on my company's poorly designed insurance portal trying to get signed up outside of the open enrollment period.

I decided to go for a run in the afternoon. At twenty-seven, I was still fit but I'd let some of my exercise routine slip over the last year. I was going to be on the market again soon, and I needed to change my regimen.

At 5:30, there was a knock on my hotel door. At first, I thought it was housekeeping and then worried that Meridee had found me, but I found Aimee standing there, with two large grocery bags in her hands.

"How did you find me?" I demanded, as she made her way past me, walking in like she owned the place.

"I followed you from work yesterday." She was pretty matter-of-fact about it, like I should congratulate her.

"Why?" I asked more intrigued.

"Because I care about you," she said like it was a given. "I love you, actually."

"Hold on," I said incredulously. "What does that mean?"

"I've always loved you," she told me as she started pulling things out of the bag. "I loved you enough to set you free in college. That was partly because I loved Mer too. After you two got married, I tried to look at my love like I would a sibling, or something like that. I care about you, Josiah."

"Then why take her side?" I had to know because I didn't trust anyone at the time.

"I didn't take her side," she chided. "If you think about it, you know that's true. I care about both of you. I thought I would keep you company while she was in New York, call it distracted if you want. It wasn't my place to get involved."

"I disagree completely!" My rage was returning in this circular argument. "It was a despicable act on her part. You should have warned me, especially if your claim of love is to be believed."

"That is also true," she said while searching the hotel cupboards for plates. "I thought I was doing right by both of you when I agreed to spend time with you and take you to the play. I cancelled a date with a guy I was just starting to see, so I could take you, by the way."

I just looked at her like she was nuts. "So, let's eat and talk," she continued. "I have some information from talking to her today. "Light or dark meat?" she pointed at the chicken. I helped her with the sides and we each filled a plate and sat down. Nothing was said for a while as we both seemed lost in our thoughts.

"What are you planning to do, Ji?" she asked. "And don't tell me you don't know."

"I plan to divorce her," I said like it was nothing. "I know I'll need to talk to her soon, but I want to have the papers filled out so I can get her to sign them."

"You know as well as I do that isn't going to happen, Ji. I know you know. She's not going to just let you go. She takes her vows to you as seriously as her promises to Den... him."

"Vows," I sputtered, "what a joke. The vows I remember included not coveting someone other than your spouse. I remember 'for better or worse,' which would have been the time to talk to me about her boyfriend, before she left."

"They also said, 'until death do us part,'" she reminded me. "Look, you must know, she doesn't see this as cheating. She sees it as a mission of mercy. That's the gist of what I got out of her today, and that's how she's going to present to you once you two sit down."

I had something to say about that, but my mouth was full. She continued.

"So, Ji, if your plan is divorce, then you're going to have to hurt her badly, because it's clear to me she plans to love the hurt right out of you, for as long as it takes."

Deep down, I knew that; it's what I dreaded, but I knew. I would need to consider a more detailed conversation with Meridee before I saw her.

"And," Aimee went on, watching my face closely to make sure her words were getting through. "That's not the half of it. Right now, she's still in mission mode. She's helping his mother with the final arrangements. When Dennis' father died, he took care of everything for his mom. She's operating on sheer will, the way I see it, trying to help her friend in his final days, and we haven't even gotten to the grieving yet. If you try to hurt her with your words, try to get her to lose it so you can get out of the marriage, she's going to literally put you on hold until she's seen this process through. Then she'll circle back around to you and put everything she has, whatever she has left, into a reconciliation."

"You're back to the vow part," I told her with muster. "It doesn't matter how close they were or what promises she made. She should have told me before we married or she should have waited for him to come back and married the asshole."

"Josiah," she scolded me, like I gave a shit. "If you approach her like that, you WILL hurt her. I know she hurt you, and if that causes you to leave her, then so be it. Listen, they have been tight since preschool. You and I can't change that and neither can they. I think Pink Floyd said, "We're just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl, year after year."

"As I recall," I chuckled at her reference, "the song was called 'Wish You Were Here.' I'm pretty sure she should have been thinking that about me, not him."

"You're right, Ji. But remember this as you and Mer work through whatever comes next. That song was about a beloved band member who died. A fish swimming in a fishbowl, suddenly without the other fish, is a very different experience. In fact, that fish can no longer share any experience unless the owner introduces a new fish to the bowl. That's what's coming for Meridee in a month or so when Dennis dies. Even though they had barely communicated through social media, she still knew he was there, just within reach."

"Then she should just go back to him, until he's gone," I told her solemnly. The entire idea of it, the emotions I wrestled with, and the signals I missed made me feel like I was in a trash compactor. Aimee sat there, her face full of empathy for me, and probably for her friend Meridee, too.

"If that's how you really feel, Ji," she consoled, "you should tell her yourself."

We finished our dinner in silence, deep in thought. Aimee told me she spoke to Mer that morning and while she told her that I'd left, most of the conversation centered around her lover. Aimee heard about how sick he'd become, how afraid he was, and how bad he felt for his mother and Meridee. Hearing her paraphrase my wife made my stomach queasy. It was clear to me that Aim was right; Mer wouldn't be in any condition to talk to me until he was gone and she was in mourning.

Staying away from home all weekend made it much easier to continue doing it during the following week. I tried to bury myself in my work, but thoughts of Mer and my future wouldn't allow me.

Friday, a week after her return, as I sat in my office considering going home, I got a call from the dead man walking. I thought it was a client when I answered the phone.

"Josiah?" the voice asked. I responded.

"Please stop what you're doing," he said. It wasn't quite pleading as much as a fake stoicism. "You're killing her inside."

I knew immediately it was him. "You're the one who's doing that - who did that. How fucking dare you. You're half in the ground, and you have the audacity to ruin our marriage, and for what?"

"I know that's how you feel," he replied. "I'd probably feel the same if the situation were reversed. But she loves you, and she's going to need..."

"Need me when you croak," I interrupted him. "Fuck you, buddy. You have a lot of nerve asking me for anything. We had a good thing, she and I, and you fucking destroyed it. You could have told her not to come. You could have set some ground rules if she insisted on seeing you. You could have had your mother stick around every night and chaperone the two of you."

"I could have done the right thing," he parroted my thinking. "But I didn't. I took advantage of Meridee's kindness and caring. I never forced her, so you know, but I never rejected her either. It was selfishness on my part, and probably some jealousy mixed in. She talked about you, about the two of you together, and she did it with so much love. Part of me hated that she had those feelings and emotions with someone besides me. But she's not dying, I am. The only thing you can do to her is hurt her - punish her for things she couldn't control."

"You sanctimonious bastard," I yelled through gritted teeth. "I hope you rot in hell. Why are you calling me, anyway? Did the two of you get together and think this was a good plan?"

"No," he said solemnly. "I called your main office in Boston to get your number. I'm asking you to forgive her, not for me, but for her. I care about her, like you do. If I die and you leave her, it will kill her."

"Tell me the truth, you prick," I was still bitterly angry. "You've always loved her, haven't you?"

"Yes, I have." There was no hesitation. "But I also let her go, pushed her away, would be more accurate, so I could pursue my ambitions. It's a regret I'll soon take to my grave."

"Not exactly," I corrected him. "You got what you wanted in the end. Your grand connection. And you soiled her and our marriage in the process. I have no empathy for you or for her. You're... both of you are just two self-centered people who care less about what you leave in your wake."

"Why can't you just understand?" he was also losing his temper. "That's what we have in common - you and me - we both love the same woman. If I weren't dying, we would have never had sex, never explored our intimacy. We promised we'd be there for each other in a situation like this. I didn't soil anything! She was mine FIRST!"

He meant every word of what he said, the son-of-a-bitch. He was also right, and the thought, or feeling, I didn't know which, exactly, buried deep, came rushing to the surface. That was the crux of the matter. Who he was to her, and she to him. Where did that leave me, I asked myself.

"Well," I said, "you made that abundantly clear. Now fuck off and die already." I disconnected the call.

I'd made a decision not to tell my mother what was going on until I had a chance to talk to Meridee. It was just she and me; my Dad had left when I was ten. When I answered the phone, she started right in on me; Mer's Mother must have called her.

"Josiah," she said. "Have you gone back home yet? Have you talked to your wife?"

"No, Ma," I admitted. "She's not ready for that, still too worried about her lover. I have all the paperwork ready to hand her when we do talk."

My mother gasped. "NO! Please tell me you're not considering that without even listening to her. You can't. If you haven't talked to her, then you don't know the whole story."

"Oh, I know," I tried to speak calmly. "She's already talked to everyone else. Her fuc... her boyfriend called me yesterday; tried to plead her case."

"Josiah, listen to me," she replied sternly. "You're hurt and you should be. You need to make sure she understands what she put you through. You need to lay down some rules for the future and let her know what happens if she doesn't abide by them. You need to..."

"Come on, Ma," I got loud, interrupting her. "I can't believe what I'm hearing from you. You're giving me advice you didn't even take. Remember what you did to Dad when you caught him."

"I didn't kick your father out. Why would you think that?" She seemed distraught to think that was my lifelong view on the matter.

"Your father was half-caught," she told me. "A good friend of mine had seen him with his woman. I told him I'd given him a one-time pass, but that if he ever embarrassed me like that again, I'd never admit it or confront him. I told him I'd cut his penis off in his sleep. He half-laughed, saying I wasn't that kind of person. I grabbed a butcher knife right then and there, walked up to him and put the tip against his abdomen, right above his belt and told him to go ahead and tell me about any other women he'd been with."

"Geez, Ma," I was surprised. "Why didn't you ever tell me that?"

"Because he left us two weeks later, with not even a word. He just left all his stuff and never communicated with us again. I know my poor choice in a partner hurt your childhood, and I'm sorrier than you know."

"It's okay, Ma," I tried to comfort. I didn't want to go into our history with my father. I already had enough problems.

"Ji," she continued. "Don't divorce her out of spite. Unlike your father, I know she loves you."

"Ma, this isn't some twisted version of 'The Notebook.' She loves the guy. Maybe she's in love with him, and she had sex with him. Sick or not, she broke her vows."

"I know that, Honey." She was the one comforting them. "Her mother told me everything. I need you to know that if you walk away in anger, in spite, divorce will become even easier with the next wife, and the one after that. I don't want to see my boy alone or on his fifth marriage, with kids all over the country. Go talk to her. If she won't sincerely apologize and promise to adhere to your marriage demands, then leave her."

"Thanks, Ma," I knew she meant well. "I'll take what you said under advisement."

"Josiah, I'll always love you and support you. I just want you to have a happy life."

It was my mother's advice that finally made me decide to talk to Mer. I couldn't prolong things forever, and the longer it went on, the more it would look like I was brooding.

I'd been living at the 'Stay' hotel for seven days. During that time, I hadn't taken any of Meridee's calls, nor replied to her texts. There was no illusion that we were communicating through Aimee and others.

I was going to text her that I'd be home that night, but then I decided to call her. She answered right away.

"Hello, Josiah," she said in a business tone. To me, it was a horrible start, but not unexpected. I'm sure she'd worked it out in her head that I'd deserted her, or something stupid like that. I was also sure she never expected me to ghost her. At least she didn't say, "What can I do for you?"

"Meridee," I countered her tone. "Wondering if we should talk. Thoughts?"

That changed her attitude a bit. "Of course, we should talk. That's what I've been trying to do. Are you saying you're coming home, or do you have some place in mind?"

I'd not considered a neutral venue. For a few seconds, I thought about it, but decided we should probably talk in private. "I'll be at the house tomorrow morning. 10:00 okay?"

"Yeah," she said with an exaggerated sigh. "Do you want me to make breakfast?" At least she was smart enough to ask.

"No," I told her. "I'll bring some bagels. That way we can eat and talk." I said goodbye without further fanfare and clicked off. It was clear that the following day's talk would be the first of many. The way I felt, I couldn't see us even getting through that first one.

I almost knocked on my own door, just to prove a point, but decided to start on the higher ground. I put the Bagels on the table after side-stepping her hug and poured myself a cup of coffee. For Mer's part, she stared at me like she didn't know me.

We sat opposite each other, but the distance seemed much greater than before she snuck off. I waited for her while she kept looking at me and then at her food. Finally, I said, "Care to explain yourself?"

Meridee took a deep breath, looked me in the eye and started. "You're right. I'm truly sorry that I left the way I did. I didn't have any choice, though. I'm sorry that I couldn't tell you where I was going. I wasn't going to lie about when I got back, you need to know that."

Of all the things she could have said then, nothing could have been worse. My anger soared. Aimee was right. Meridee thought she was on a righteous mission and for anything she was sorry for, none were the proper things.

"Hold on a second," I interrupted. "I don't want to hear your half-assed apologies, but they ring hollow. I don't believe you mean them. What I want, what I'm here for is an explanation. That's all. Explain what you did, why, and how many vows you broke."

That threw her off balance. She was quiet for nearly a full minute before responding. "Alright, I suppose that's fair," she said.

"Don't use that word in your explanation, or I'll leave, Meridee. Since checking that fucking Chevy app, there's been nothing but unfair for me."

Undeterred by my statement, she began again.

"I talked to Aimee Thursday morning while he was taking a nap. She told me what happened. I'm so sorry you found out that way, before... before I could tell you in person."

"Listen to yourself, Mer," I scolded. "So caught up in your bullshit justifications that you're only sorry about how I found out, but not sorry, right? If what you say is true, you should have called me immediately rather than slinking off in the night like some cat burglar. The damage was done as soon as you walked out the door. So, before you go any further, cut the cliches, cut the bullshit, and tell me straight out!"

"That's not true!" Her tone rose. She'd spit it out before she realized what I was saying to her and then went silent. I got up and started to walk away, and she rushed up behind me, squeezing me in her arms. It no longer felt the way it once did.

"Please, Ji," she wasn't begging, but almost. "Let me explain what happened while I was there. I want to take away the pain you're feeling and help you understand."

This was the part I'd played over and over in my head the past seventy-two hours. By just walking away from her, never listening to her bullshit explanations and justifications, I could hurt her the way she'd done to me. The problem with that plan was that she wouldn't give up, and it would only prolong things.

"Okay, Mer," I stated coldly. "Let me get a drink and I'll meet you in the living room. But I mean what I said... cut the bullshit and the platitudes. Our marriage is on life support."

Her look told me she disagreed with my synopsis and also recognized that I probably wasn't in a place to understand her. What she didn't know just then was that I'd never be.

She was smack dab in the middle of the sofa when I came in. I took up a perch in a chair across from her, where I can't remember ever sitting before. She caught on pretty quickly.

"You can't sit with me?" she asked, sounding hurt. I shook my head and she gasped. It took her several seconds to collect herself as she stared at me. Then she took a deep breath.

"Okay, Ji," she started. "I found out last Tuesday. I saw a cryptic post on his Facebook and another on his Instagram. I haven't talked or messaged him in over a year, but I did then. He replied, asking if he could call me, and I said, "Sure."

"I was devastated when he told me," she said. "I was crying and could barely hear him. He said he was already weak and planning for the end. Right then, I knew I had to see him. I never told you this, but we promised each other we'd be there if the other was in serious trouble. I couldn't think of any worse trouble than he was in. I decided to go and started making plans."

"And your plan included keeping me in the dark?" I yelled. "I don't care what promises you made to another before we got together. Those become meaningless when you commit to someone in marriage. It's something I shouldn't have to tell you."

"Yes," she admitted. "But only in the short term. I spoke to Aimee, and she didn't like the way I was rushing off, but when I explained my reasoning, she let it go. She said she still disagreed but that it was my funeral. I asked her to come here and spend time with you, since I would be gone for a week.

"I arrived late Friday night," Meridee explained. "His mother was there, and after just a brief greeting, showed me to the guest room. She was making arrangements for Dennis to leave his apartment and go back to his childhood home. She made breakfast in the morning and I could see how hard it was for Dennis. He tried to put on a brave face for me.

"His mother was there every day. She made his meals and gave him supplements. I'm sure she believed that she could cure him with a few articles she'd read and sheer will. She was kind enough to leave after dinner and give us the time. I know she thought I might be a part of his recovery. That Saturday night, Dennis was nodding off as we reminisced and I helped him to bed. After he fell asleep, I put on my pajamas and lay with him in his bed, cuddling."

I couldn't help myself. "Listen, I know where this story is going, and I don't want to hear any of the details, understand?"

"My god, Josiah, what happened to the compassionate man I married? I was always drawn to your sensitivity to others but it seems to have fled the scene here."

"Oh, now you're worried about the man you married, only after fucking your old boyfriend. What nonsense!"

"Please, Ji, I need to tell you what happened." She seemed confused, and I couldn't understand why. "If you mean the... details of intimacy, I would never do that. I'm not some cruel bitch, but you need to know, so I can help you get past it."

She had no idea. She thought some flowery comments would get me past it that easily? Did she really know me? I waved at her to keep going, already sick of listening.

"Sunday night, after his mother left, we sat looking through photo albums. There was laughing and crying. When he got around to asking about whether I had any remorse for us never having sex, I knew what that night would bring. We talked about us going our separate ways and he told me that he was now glad that he hadn't married me or anyone, for that matter, knowing he was dying at such an early age.

"I slept with him that night," she looked away. "After I had sex with him."

"Don't you mean 'make love' to him?" I asked bitterly. She noticed my demeanor change.

"I suppose," she told me. "I don't want to lie and you said you didn't want details. Please try to understand."

"Just to get this moving," I said, my voice low and cold. "Was it just the once, or the rest of the week?"

Meridee's face reddened and anger swept over her. She realized I wasn't trying to 'understand' in the slightest.

"God, are you that small and petty?" she asked loudly. "I'm trying to explain here."

"Let's see... small and petty compared to conniving and deceitful... I guess you win that one, too, Mer. Anyway, I'm not as interested as I thought I might be, so can we get to the good part?"

"Geez, I can't believe you're acting like this," she admonished. "You do understand at least that this isn't all about you, right?"

"Hmmf," I snarled. "Give me a minute. My drink is empty." I got up and walked away from her without allowing her to respond. When I came back, she was somewhere between moping and ready to explode.

"No, this isn't all about me," I stated, "although I am the one whose wife left him without a goodbye or forewarning, to go fuck her old boyfriend simply because he's dying. No... not about me at all. You've really gotten off to a helluva start, Mer. I don't know that I'm not more convinced this isn't going to work... and you haven't even finished."

"Alright," she said with finality. "I can see you're not ready to talk - or listen - yet. I slept with him every night through Wednesday. He was too sick on Thursday after his doctor appointment, so I slept in the guest room. On Friday, we talked some more, his mother off running errands. We said our goodbyes and I left.

"You have to understand, Ji," she tried a different approach. "I had to. I had to go. We have a history. He was my best friend growing up. I love him. I'm not in love with him, that's for you exclusively. He's going to be dead in two months or less!" That last part hit her hard, and I almost would have empathized if she hadn't tried to kill me, too.

"If I don't kill him first," I said with all the anger I could muster.

She gasped and her eyes nearly exploded out of her head. Then I saw some of the same anger I was feeling.

"You take that back, Josiah," she screamed. "You fucking take that back and apologize!"

"Sure. Sorry." I told her flatly, daring her to continue down that road. I thought I'd skip ahead, so I asked, "If all that's true, why not just stay there to the end?"

That caught her off guard and she blushed. "Because I have a husband at home. I mean, I'm starting to wonder about that now, but I decided there was no way I could do that. I knew I had already hurt you and could not undo what I had done. I knew I had to focus on you... on us."

That was enough. She wasn't ready, and neither was I. The rest of my drink went down harshly, and I stood up. I've never been much of a day drinker, but the liquor calmed me sufficiently.

"Okay, Mer," I told her. "I've come and heard what you have to say. Depending on our talk, I was planning to either move back home or rebook for another week. I need to grab some clean stuff and go back so I don't lose my room. They're holding it for me."

Meridee was no longer confused. She was both hurt and mad. Aimee was right again; my wife wasn't in a place to hear me or understand. She probably wouldn't ever be. She followed me to the bedroom after a bit.

"I don't know why you have to go," she said quietly, more contrite. "This is your home. You can stay here while we work this out." Well, she didn't say 'Please' at least.

"No, Mer. Right now, I'm an alternative, at best. You're still distracted by your friend and his misfortune; he has all your attention. I'm sure he told you about our conversation. There's nothing to be accomplished here right now."

"Ji?" she asked with a sadness she hadn't had all morning. "Don't you love me anymore?"

I laughed out loud, bitterly, at the irony. "Meridee, if I didn't love you, this would be so much easier. You'd answer the door to a process server, you'd open the packet, and read my terms. While you were in New York, seeing him off, I'd be busy putting the house up for sale. Our mothers helped us with the down payment, so I only need to get that much out of the sale so we can repay them. The rest could be split up in one afternoon."

"But why?" she continued. "I love you. I don't want you to leave or for us to get a divorce. I know I've hurt you, but I never thought it would be irreparable. I always planned to tell you what happened, and I just did. I can't handle this right now, I need you with me."

That was her problem... what she wanted or didn't want. The only 'us' she really needed was the 'us' so you won't be alone. Delusional didn't even begin to cut it. I shook my head and took my clothes down and out the front door. I couldn't even go back in. She just stood in the doorway watching me leave.

I'm not ashamed to say I kept drinking back in my room, after stopping at a liquor store. I hated what was happening to us, what had already happened. The anger was back, but combined with the grief, it became unbearable. Around 5:00 p. m., Aimee called. I was in no shape, but I took her call anyway. It was the booze talking.

"Why are you calling?" I asked. "What's the new plan to get Josiah in line?"

"Just stop, Ji," she yelled. "I get it, you're hurting. I'm hurting for you and her. She's hurting because a person she's known since before kindergarten and loved nearly as long is near death. And finally, he's dying at twenty-seven. Everyone's hurting badly, okay.

"She deceived you," she continued. "She..."

"And so did you," I interrupted. "I've lost a wife and a friend."

"Yes, I did," she answered immediately. "Guilty as charged. I told her I didn't like what she was doing, and I tried desperately to convince her not to go. At the same time, I could understand that she didn't want to be interrupted while she was with him, saying her goodbyes. She didn't want the whole thing to blow up, making things even worse for him. I decided to try to help the two people I love."

"So why not tell me the first day?" I was having a hard time understanding her logic.

"How?" she asked incredulously. "Hey Ji, I've got those tickets to the play, and oh, by the way, Mer is with her dying first love, comforting him for a week, so if you want to talk about it..."

"That's lame, Aimee, even for your twisted sentimentalities. I think you knew it was wrong, or you would have told me."

"I DID know, and I DID try, but to what end?" She was becoming frustrated. "I wasn't going to stop her. I even understood when she told me that you might never forgive her. I wanted to be there for you. Be there to distract you, which I'm sure you figured out. Keep your mind off the two big questions. Where was she and why did she leave her phone behind?"

"That makes you an accomplice," I pointed out. "I'm pissed, and so terribly disappointed in you. Maybe you didn't see or couldn't think of another way, but that won't ever change how I feel about you being in my home, playing house, and deceiving me all the while."

There was an awkward silence then. Finally, she spoke. "I understand. I'm sorry for deceiving you and playing along with her plan. Ji, as a friend, I'm asking you to go see her again. Talk to her. If you can't take her back, then tell her that. Rip off the Band-Aid. She'll lose her friend in a few weeks. If you don't want her, then send her back to him for the short time he has left. I don't think she can bear to lose both of you at the same time, but being in limbo, torn between him and a possible reconciliation with her husband, that's cruel.

What was there to say? I was shooting for cruel.

"You think I should forgive and forget, then?" I had to know.

"That's complicated." She thoughtfully replied. "I know both of you well. I don't see any 'forget' in the equation. If there's some level of forgiveness, then I could see the memory of what happened strengthening the marriage over the long haul. If the forgiveness is half-assed, or if she cannot prove her love and respect, plus take ownership of what she's done wrong, then no amount of forgiveness will make a difference. Faux forgiveness will only lead to long-term heartache."

"I have to go," I said, sadly. There were no winners in this mess.

"Please call me anytime you want to talk." She told me sincerely. "Ask me anything. I care about you, Ji."

On Sunday, I woke up with a much different attitude. I'd made a big mistake marrying her. Sure, I loved her and, of course, love is blind, but I wasn't going down with the ship. I was still young and even though there would be a minor financial setback, I'd survive, unlike someone else I knew.

The financial stuff was easy. My company used a local law firm to handle legalities, so I'd call in the morning and get a referral. I'd file under 'irreconcilable differences,' so as not to be the laughing stock. Sitting there, thinking of other things that had to happen, I began to wonder if Mer had told her mother. I decided to get out in front of that.

When I called and we gave our pleasantries, Mer's mom got right to it.

"My daughter has ruined it all, hasn't she?" I caught the change in her throat.

"Maybe," I said sadly, "probably." I didn't want to lie. Her mom and I were close.

"Well, she's got only herself to blame. What will you do?"

"I'm not sure mom," I told her honestly. "Tell me about this Dennis Praeger."

She did, at least what she knew and remembered. "Once they got into high school, they started dating, which didn't surprise anyone, especially the parents. We could see they were sweet on each other for a long time. The part that was odd is that they broke up in their junior year. No one expected that."

"Any idea why, mom? It might help."

"They said they needed time to explore," she said as if not believing them even now. "I think even at that tender age they knew they were destined to marry; to be together. Dennis dated a girl that Meridee absolutely hated and, well... she found out the two had sex. She was devastated for weeks. One night, she came home late, and the next morning all was back to normal; she was, or so it seemed. Later that afternoon, I heard her on the phone with, I presumed, Dennis. They had a horrible fight. You see, Meridee had gotten even."

"How long did that last?" I asked.

"Some time later in the school year, they went back to being friends," she answered forlornly. "They renewed their friendship but never their love. Both were too hurt."

"So, he did to her what she did to me... with him. Is that what they mean by Karma?"

"Oh, Ji, I'm sorry. I never looked at it that way but I see your point, cruel as it is. More to the point, I don't think Mer sees it that way, or she may have acted differently."

Mer's mother and I talked some more about our predicament. She never asked me to take Mer back, or even to comply or give her a chance. She only asked that I be fair and not destroy her daughter. I was still so bitter that I had a hard time making that promise.

Monday night, I had a more civil conversation with Aimee. The difference between her and my wife was that Aimee felt remorse for her part in the subterfuge. That didn't mean that Aimee stopped defending her friend. She didn't make excuses for Mer, but she did try to make a case for me to think about.

"Remember when you asked me why I gave up on us and pushed you into Meridee's arms and heart, or however you put it?" she asked. "I knew how she felt... about Dennis leaving. I had to listen to her when she cried on my shoulder, devastated. She always said the same thing - she'd never find a man - actually, she said, never find a match or equal for what she had with Dennis. I saw how you two looked at each other in that very first moment after I introduced you. I knew that she'd found her equal if she was smart enough to take and keep him. I wanted her to be happy, Ji."

"I think you should have kept me, Aim," I truthfully told her. "I can't see any forgiveness here. She knew better. She's trying to make it sound like a walk in the park. 'Oh, my dear friend, he's sick, so I fucked him for a week, like any good friend would.'"

"She doesn't understand what's wrong with what she did, Ji," sounding pathetic, trying to pass that one off. "Maybe there's no forgiving, but what about a little grace?"

"She doesn't deserve any grace from me," I told her. "I don't know how to give it, especially with her lack of consideration, the lack of respect she showed me in not only what she did but how she did it."

"Oh, Josiah," she said pitifully, as if she were standing right in front of me. "Surely you must understand the faultiness of that last statement, even if you don't believe in a God. Grace - and mercy, for that matter - aren't things that are deserved. In truth, it is impossible for anyone, anywhere, anytime to deserve grace. Grace, by definition, is undeserved. The minute you start talking about deserving something, you are no longer talking about grace, but justice.

"If you wanted to offer grace," she continued, "it needs to be voluntary. Justice involves a plan, some revenge. If justice is what you seek, then leave her. But for your own good, your own heart, I suggest you offer some mercy or grace when you do it. She hurt you and broke her promises to you, yes, and there's no denying that there was at least some level of malicious intent. But in her thinking, warped or not, she thought she did the right thing"

"I can't believe you're still sticking up for her!" I didn't see it.

"Okay," she controlled her tone. "Maybe not 'the right thing', but she had to do it, even if it cost her everything. Surely you understand that. I'm not asking you to put it behind you - I don't think you can, and I doubt I could, in the same situation. I'm asking you to figure out how to leave her gracefully. Her punishment, your justice, will be the act of losing you, right after she lost him. If you do leave her, I'm just asking for you to do so gracefully, sensitively and compassionately. If it's the last interaction between you, leave her with those thoughts rather than your anger and enmity. For Meridee, it will take a long time for her to overcome that. To recover. And I am really concerned about her causing self-harm after she realizes that she no longer has either of you... you should think about that as well."

I didn't agree with Meridee causing herself harm if she lost her two men. She'd probably blame me for not wanting to forgive her, and Praeger for dying, if I knew Mer at all.

Aimee had a larger view, albeit a precise one. Life was short, and we were young, largely unconcerned about the grip time had on us. Why was I hanging around?

I didn't go home. I started the divorce proceedings but had my attorney hold off on serving her. Aimee and I continued to do things together over the next few weeks. Dinner, mini-golf, bowling, sometimes just a morning coffee at Starbucks. I never told Mer that I was out with her and she never asked. I wondered at times, even felt like, the two of them were in cahoots, teamed against me to wear me down as it related to forgiving Meridee.

Other times, I discounted that notion. For one thing, after the big talk about grace and justice, Aimee never again talked about Mer's justification, and I believed that instead, she was helping me to open my heart and mind to what needed to be done for myself. By focusing on us, she was preparing me for a future post-Meridee.

Mer called and asked if I could come to the house. I told her no and she asked if she could come to me. I could tell by her voice that it had happened. Dennis Praeger was dead.

I told her I'd pin my address and send it, but she told me she already knew where I was living. That surprised me.

Meridee looked like shit when I opened the door and she flew into my arms. I'd had time to prepare for this moment. I knew my wife in some ways, even though it had become clear that in other ways, I didn't. She bawled, her body shaking, as she wet my shirt. I held her tightly even as I knew why she was there; I wasn't a complete animal. When the sobs abated and the tears subsided, she looked up at me and... she kissed me on the lips with as much passion as when we first met. I knew where things were headed, and I steeled myself.

I'd heard about 'break-up' sex. I'd even been warned by a few friends from work when I shared my story during those after-work happy hours. This would be our last hurrah.

There was no need to hurt her or screw her into the mattress. I'd never enjoy her naked body again, so I'd already decided to get the most out of it. Oddly, it was Mer who was disconnected. She was there for relief, maybe an ounce of absolution, but not love. If she was thinking of him, during, I didn't care. She'd be alone soon, and I'd be on the hunt for a decent woman that I could share a satisfying life with.

While my mind was squarely centered on my cock giving me as much pleasure as possible, Mer writhed and moaned as never before. The pleasure and pain were loud and clear, and it was difficult to tell which was which. Her body contorted with each orgasm, and if she wasn't experiencing nirvana, it was a first-rate acting job.

When we were both finished, I went to the bathroom to wash my junk and headed to the living room, leaving her stunned and sitting on the bed, already clothed. The same ball game was still on from earlier, when she arrived.

"Are you ever coming home?" came the slightly irritated tone from my wife. One thing was for sure: she was making it easy to leave her. I shrugged and, indignantly, she left. Later, she texted me that she was going to New York for the funeral and that we needed to talk when she returned. Somehow, she seemed to believe she had some control over things. I was looking forward to leaving and letting her find an empty house when she returned.

Two nights later, on our standing Tuesday, Aimee asked about Mer. I could tell she knew about Praeger and was fishing for more.

"She came to my apartment." I left it there.

"Seriously, Ji," she almost shouted. "Did you fuck her, or what?" A family at the next table turned toward us, with the father giving us the death stare.

"Keep your voice down," I ordered.

"Well?" She put her elbows on the table and cradled her face in her hands.

"Yes, okay!" I whispered in frustration. "She ran up to me, almost squeezed the life out of me. What'd you expect?"

"And afterward," she asked. "Did you talk about it?"

"No," I admitted, embarrassed. "There was no... love. We rutted like needy dogs. She was aggressive, as if she was trying to wring every last drop of whatever out of me."

For some strange reason, I was overcome by emotion. "I wiped my sweat off her face with the sheet and then went to the bathroom. When I came out, she was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, trying hard to hold her emotions together."

"Did she ask you to come back home?" She was prying hard.

"Yeah," I replied. "When I didn't answer, she said she was going to New York for a week to attend the funeral."

"And what are you gonna do?" That was the million-dollar question. It dawned on me then that I'd been avoiding it. Aimee could sense the indecisiveness, too.

"I don't... know." My hesitation forced Aimee to move even closer across our table if that was possible.

"I had such high hopes," I told her with a deep sadness.

"Two weeks ago, you were all set to divorce her..."

"No, I mean when we married," I interrupted and corrected. "I thought she'd be the one. It's hard to accept how wrong I was."

"High Hopes," she muttered. "Another Pink Floyd song."

"Aimee," my voice went up, and the family next to us again turned their attention to our table. "I'm fucking losing it here; would you just stop with the Pink Floyd references?"

She let it go while we ate, but afterward we walked by the small lake in our town. It was a balmy night, and she comforted me with her words. She soothed me with all her talk of the positive things in my life and what a long life I still had ahead of me.

As we parted, she said, "Listen to the song when you get home, Ji."

With my headphones on, I did, maybe twenty or more times. That time, the tears were for everyone, not just me. It dawned on my pea-brain that Aimee wasn't just a friend, she was leading me to a conclusion. A conclusion that SHE could live with. Thinking about that made me realize that she was serendipitously putting her name on my future dance card.

I decided I wasn't going to end up old and full of regret, which was the gist of the song. Meridee saw herself in a no-win situation, and I didn't. Period, end of report. She saw herself as being on the high road, having compassionately comforted her lifelong friend at his deathbed. For her, the sex was probably only a small part of what she did for him in his hour of need.

No matter what she said she felt for me, the entire thing would hang over our heads for our whole future. I wasn't going to live that way. She'd get over what she did to me, because she told herself she did good for her childhood friend, her mercy mission.

The next day, I informed my attorney of her return day and the time to serve her. There was no way either of us could afford to move out, but I still contacted a realtor to get things moving along. On Friday night, I called Aimee and asked about her plans for the next day.

"I sort of left myself open, knowing she would be at the funeral." There wasn't any flirty tone; she was still in friend mode. We spent the day in the city, starting at the farmers' market. Aimee told me I needed to start eating right again. I let Aimee know about the decisions I'd made, and she smiled at me like she used to when we first met in college.

After dinner, we made plans to play mini-golf the following day, and she surprised me when she mentioned a new restaurant we were going to on our regular Tuesday night out.

Aimee was starting to let her hair down, if you will. There's no denying it did my ego good. I'd just recently discovered that I wasn't the most important person to my own wife. Naturally, I reciprocated with my friend. I saw it as two friends enjoying each other, but upon reflection, I realized that we were essentially dating, albeit without physical intimacy.

I also knew Meridee would hang on as long as she felt she needed to - as long as she felt she didn't have alternatives - not as long as she thought there was a chance. She would continue going all out until she exhausted herself and made the decision that I wouldn't take her back. That was just how she lived her life - on her terms. Knowing her as I did, I expected that to be about three months.

I could wait that long. My life was heading in a new direction, and I wasn't anywhere near as sad about things as I expected. Sometimes I wondered if I ever really loved her as much as I thought I did, or if I was just a cold bastard. By that time, though, I'd trained myself to circle back to the crux of the matter. I knew I'd have to explain to Meridee during our last conversation for closure.

Tuesday night was Italian, just as Aimee had promised. It was a snazzy, upscale place with a lounge and dancing next door, but attached. I was glad Aim had told me to wear a sports jacket. I explained what I was doing where Mer was concerned, and otherwise, we enjoyed our meal and each other's company.

Aimee suggested we head to the lounge 'to burn off some carbs.' There was an authentic big band setting up. I looked at Aimee, and she smiled. "I don't know how to ballroom dance," I told her.

"Sure you do," she replied teasingly. "Or did you forget?" I just stared at her. "Wow!" She gave me a mock, sad look.

"Remember when we'd been dating about three months?" she asked. "I took a six-week ballroom class with some of the girls in the dorm. I'd dance with you on nights we were together. Please, tell me you haven't forgotten that."

I could no longer contain my laughter, and she knew she'd been had. She punched my arm. "Let's go, Romeo." Just hearing her old nickname changed the entire evening for me.

I still wasn't very good, but she didn't seem to mind. After taking our second break and ordering our second wine, Aimee took both of my hands in hers. I could sense that something important was about to happen.

"Ji," she started. "I'm sorry. Sorry for sticking up for her, and the advice..."

I didn't want to spoil the night. We were having a great time. "No, no, don't do that," I began, but she put up her hand to stop me.

"Listen to me, please," she went on. "I've been doing some thinking, and I need to get it out. I was wrong in my thinking about Meridee and her perspective. I told you to listen to that song the other night... did you, by the way?" I nodded but let her continue.

"I did, too," she admitted. "It made me see things a bit differently. Ji, how long would the divorce take if Mer just gave up on you two?"

I don't know," I responded. I did know; about six months give or take, but my radar was up with how Aim was talking.

"And neither of you can afford to move out, is that what you said?" She was fishing for something. Damn, we couldn't even get through one nice date... night out.

"No," I sighed, getting upset. "I'll have to live there until the divorce goes through or I win the lottery. That is unless you can convince Meridee that she'll never win me back. Think you could help a brother out with that?"

I studied Aimee's crooked, messed-up smile. She was beyond apprehensive.

"What if," she tentatively said, "instead of having her served when she comes back, at the airport or at the house, you're back home, moved back in."

I almost exploded. "What the fuck, Aimee?" I snarled through gritted teeth. "Are we back to this? I'm not forgiving her!"

"I know that!" she shot right back. "Listen, please." Her imploring voice made me sit back.

"You're not going to." She lowered her voice and stared into my eyes. "She's not going to see it. She won't admit anything; she won't show remorse. That's what hit me the other night, when I started looking at Meridee like just someone I knew instead of a friend. She'll be extremely angry at first, seeing your paperwork as a betrayal, exactly like you felt when she went to him. Then, she'll likely pull her big girl panties up and set about getting you back. Trying to get you to love her again and drop the divorce. You and I both know that won't work, but she won't."

I wasn't following and she could tell. "Ji, if you went home, to YOUR house, gave her nothing, granted her nothing, how long do you think it would take for her to realize there's nothing left to fight for?"

I was starting to understand her thinking. "That won't work," I stated flatly. "She'll want some comfort, now that her boyfriend's dead. She'll want sex, hugs, and cuddling, or she may think she can use it as a weapon to get me back in the fold. Let me see what I'll be missing. You know how women are."

The conversation began to sound and feel stupid. I was about to get up. Aimee held my hands tighter.

"I'll wait, you know." It was a simple statement. I didn't gasp, my heart didn't skip a beat, but I knew exactly what she was saying.

"I... I'm not sure what to say to that," I explained. "I suppose the question is, how long?"

"As long as it takes." She said without hesitation. After a pause, she added, "And if you have sex with her, it won't matter. She's still your wife, after all. You'll still have needs."

"It won't work," I was coming back to Earth. "You know how determined she is. Better to just serve her and get the ball rolling. Like you said before, rip the Band-Aid off."

"I think it will, Ji." She was equally determined. "Think about it. They broke up over some silly, kid stuff. Dennis went with another girl, and she got hurt. Granted, societal norms suggest that a woman forgive a one-off mistake when it comes to their man, but for men, it rarely works that way. In their case, though, it was more. He thought they were broken up, no longer exclusive. In fact, it was exactly that. Meridee got hurt, and she planned her revenge. Big difference. I'd bet anything that they discussed the whole mess when she went to him."

"So what?" I asked.

"So," she leaned in closer. "That's why she had sex with him. She finally realized she was the one at fault. She was giving herself to make up for ruining their lives back then, not because she made some promise to him. The promise she made, she also broke, a long time ago. This was making amends. I'm telling you, she already knows where you two stand. She has to, unless she's brain-dead. Still, it may take a while to realize the final implications, or connect the dots between her and you, with her and him. But she will. If you move back and stand your ground."

"That's great," I did sigh that time. "But to what end? If I don't file it will just take six more months after she finally 'figures it out.'"

"No,' she corrected me. "When she figures that out, she'll leave. When it hits her that there's no way back for you and her, she'll also understand that she made the same mistake twice. That would devastate anyone, but we both know Meridee. The weight of her mistake will emotionally bury her. She'll be marking time, hoping you'll forgive her."

I was mowing the lawn when Meridee came home. That was on purpose. She hadn't done it in my absence and the place needed to be kept up for the realtor we'd soon need to call. I wanted to present 'normal - just another day' as her life changed dramatically.

I didn't see or hear her arrive as I was in the backyard. It would be better if she thought I didn't care. Eventually, as I pushed the mower back along the row towards the house, I saw her staring at me from the deck. Interestingly, she looked angry and frustrated with me! I waved morosely, keeping a flat expression. She turned and went back into the house.

"Is this your way of hurting me?" she asked the second I walked in. "Some twisted payback for the hurt I caused you?" She must have seen that I'd moved back, but I had put all my things in the second bedroom. Finally, I thought, the conversation that should have been had almost four weeks ago.

"Cause you're doing a great job of it. I thought you were bigger than this, a rock to lean on when the chips were down," she went on. Her eyes could no longer hold back the tears, although there was no sobbing. I washed my hands and poured a glass of water, then sat at the table, facing her.

"Are you going to talk?" she asked belligerently. "Have you anything to say for yourself?"

"When you calm down, maybe," I said with an uncaring shrug.

"You bastard," she accused. "I can't talk to you right now, or I'll say something... "You're ruining everything!" she screamed as she left the room.

I yelled after her, "Don't give it another thought, Mer. I doubt there is anything you could possibly say or do that would hurt more than you have. It's been ruined since you first left to fuck him, so don't hang this on me."

I don't know what I expected, given the last little while. It was still all about what I was doing to her as if she were the victim. Certainly, it illustrated how very fucked up she was.

The next night, I went to a sports bar alone. I was no longer avoiding Meridee; I was just letting her wrap her head around the situation before we had our 'talk.' We'd likely never be on the same page, but the idea wasn't to work things out; it was to help her see things more clearly, focus on this relationship, not the one that was dead.

Aimee texted me around 7:30. "Hey, everything okay?" As much fun as I was having with her, and no matter how it was healing my bruised pride, I needed her to back off for this final phase. I called her instead of texting.

"Hi," she said, seemingly on edge.

"Hey," I replied, thinking hard about the right words. "You know I've been having a great time with you since all this started, don't you?"

"Of course, I know," she said right away. "Me, too."

"Good," I began, "because I have an ask, and I'm hoping you understand, without me having to spell it out for you." She didn't answer. "I'm happy you'll wait," I said.

"We're at the end, Mer and me. We need to have that first discussion - probably tomorrow - that's been delayed for too long now. Aimee, you and I need to cool it for, well, for a while. I need to finish this without distraction. You already know how hard it's going to be. You know her better than I do, apparently."

"I know," she admitted. "I'd still like to go on our Tuesday dinner, if that's okay. Plus, I'm always here if you want or need to talk."

It was a mixed bag. Aimee was right that she was too confused to put on a good defense or even ask the right questions. When we spoke the following night, Mer was full of apologies and remorse. She told me that she loved Dennis but was in love with me. That didn't sit very well. I told her that her actions contradicted her words.

Mer tried to spin it. "Ji, what if my lifelong friend were a woman? Let's say in the course of holding her and comforting her, something more happened. We... maybe kissed. That led to more. Would you still be this angry about it?"

"Meridee, this isn't just about the sex. You left me, the guy you just claimed to be in love with, with a fucking note. A bullshit note, at that. I don't trust you; I barely believe anything you say now. How are we going to fix that?"

"But I only meant to keep you from getting hurt!" she exclaimed.

"That's called lying, Mer."

"Okay," her tone was total exasperation, "it's lying. How can I fix it? What can I do to prove myself to you?"

"I'm not sure." I was being honest. "Tell the truth from now on." The conversation died right there. I'd had enough already, barely getting started, and she still wasn't ready.

Aimee and I kept our normal Tuesday night 'dates.' Both of us had agreed it had to stay platonic. One night, about three or so weeks after I moved home, she asked.

"How are things on the home front?" she asked as we finished our pasta.

"That's not what you want to ask," I replied nonchalantly. "Ask the real question."

Aimee was nonplussed. "Okay," she restarted. "Where do the two of you stand?"

"I don't think we do stand," I answered bitterly. "She's still stuck on him, or the idea or memory of him. She's not even ready to talk seriously about us. I think I should just file, get an apartment, and a second job. You don't have an extra room to rent me, do you?"

It was a Godsend that I was still traveling for work on my normal schedule. Being on the road used to make me feel lonely and miss my wife. Not anymore. I'd hit the gym after my meetings, then the hotel bar if they had decent food. Oddly, I'd get hit on more often when life had been good between me and Mer. Since our troubles began, I presumed women would watch me across the room and see a broken man.

But I was far from broken. I was alive, looking forward to taking advantage of the changes I'd made in my life after Mer blew us apart. I had Aimee and even though I didn't know exactly where that would end up, I wanted her. I was running again and planned to engage in other activities or hobbies that I'd put on hold for my marriage.

In contrast, I believed that Mer had figured some things out, based on her up-and-down attitude and emotions. She was probably building up the courage to discuss what was left of our relationship.

Whether Mer was ready to talk or not was irrelevant. Aimee had been both correct and not that second night after Mer had come home, as we ate and talked in my hotel room. My wife was hot and cold, if I had to describe it. She did try to 'love the hurt out of me,' but only at certain times. She'd be overly nice to me, almost in character. I wouldn't respond, and I could see her taking mental notes, probably to use in her defense later on. I expected her to accuse me of not trying, while she was giving it her everything.

But, other days, Meridee seemed deep in despair, likely thinking about Dennis. Whatever happened in New York with him, besides sex, neither Aimee nor I had fully considered.

The first time Mer tried to entice me into bed, I just ignored her. When she tried the same thing again, so did I. When she took a more direct approach, as in asking for it, I told her we wouldn't be having sex until she got a proper test at the clinic.

"What?" she asked indignantly. "You know full well cancer can't be spread that way!"

"Oh, I know." I made a big production out of my answer. "But I don't know where his dick had been before he stuck it in you, and his immune system was shot. I'm not letting the two of you kill me." I turned my attention back to the television, and she fled the room.

Two weeks later, I found a medical report on my bed when I came home from work. And because of the way she handled it, I completely ignored it.

It wasn't until the last week of October, and almost two months since she'd gone to New York for the funeral, that we tried to have sex. I had to psyche myself for it, and it wasn't pretty. She tried to make a big deal out of it, and failed, telling me how much she loved me, using all manner of adulation and homage she'd never uttered before. It was forced and fake, and I knew she was full of shit, because all I wanted was to fuck her and get it over with.

The subsequent sex became a dance of trying to mask our disdain for the obvious. I knew she started thinking of him, so she could drown me out of her thoughts. The fourth or fifth time, I figured out she was faking her orgasms. That's when I stopped.

Aimee got weekly progress reports, and I could tell that even she was second-guessing herself. Her friend, my short-term wife, seemed to have gone delusional and lost all common sense.

The weeks between Thanksgiving and New Year's sucked hard. Often, Meridee and I sat in the same room, wandered the same hallway, with barely a word to each other. As our nights ended, she always made clear she was available and wanted sex. I'd politely decline her offer. Her mother had called me twice to check on me. I told her I didn't think we'd make it and explained how far we'd declined.

"I've tried," she told me sincerely. "To get through to her. To make her understand. I've failed and I'm sorry about that."

"Not your fault," I said. "She can't see it. I doubt she can even see the similarities between her first and second love. I'm not waiting for her to wake up. You need to know, I'm going to get through the holidays and that's it. She'll be with you, and I'm going to visit my Ma."

In mid-January, an Arctic front moved through our area, but even with the thermostat set high in the house, it was even colder inside. Both of us were at our wits' end, without any off-ramp in sight.

I came home from a grueling day at work midweek and found some Chinese takeout on the table, barely warm. Meridee was perched in the living room, nursing an almost empty bottle of red wine. Her look said, 'We need to talk.'

Instead, I grunted and headed into the bedroom to wash my face and change clothes. Studying my face in the mirror, I saw how very old and tired I looked. That served to intensify the anger I'd built all day over my work issues.

The bitch had lied. She lied by not telling me, by not giving me the chance to talk her out of it. But then she lied again. She came home and said everything would be alright. Promising to do a bunch of stuff, she never really defined. Be a good wife - ha - she had that opportunity before she went to him. Make things up to me. Sure, that plan failed miserably, too. It was all just words and lies upon lies - a giant smokescreen. I took a deep breath to calm myself and headed into the fray.

I ignored her gaze and walked into the kitchen, placing the food in the microwave, and then took a beer from the fridge. I ate in silence at the table, collecting my thoughts. Finally, I moved to my chair in the living room without so much as a word.

"Ji, can we talk about where we stand?" she began.

"Stand with what?" I replied, hoping to piss her off. This wouldn't work if we kept it civil.

"You know dam... what I'm asking!" There it was. "We've been living like this for months. Forget about intimacy, which you always turn down; we're not even friendly anymore. We're married and we're not even friends, barely roommates."

"I'm aware," I said nonchalantly. "And whose fault is that?"

"Here we go again," she harrumphed. "I thought we were past that, that we could have a real talk about our future..."

"What future?" I cut her off. It effectively stopped her in her tracks. Clearly, she'd had time to prepare for this little meeting, but it wasn't going to go her way, if I could help it.

"Yeah, you heard right," I continued. "Or are you faking that too?" The last part seemed to go over her head.

"This plan of yours - the one you proclaimed as gospel when you returned from your week with Dennis. It isn't working, and you dare to sit there and ask me where we stand? You know all too well."

"It's not working because you won't let it!" she shouted in frustration. "I'm here, I love you, I'm available for you - in bed and out - for sex or just to talk. All you do is mope around. I said I'd prove my love, but you're guarding your precious pride like a prisoner guards his food."

"If you think this is about my pride or ego or any other manly trait you can't comprehend, you are an even bigger fool than I've recently discovered you to be. You lied. You lied to me by omission so you could be with your first love. Then, you came home and lied again..."

"I didn't lie!" she interrupted.

"You did," I spat right back to her. "You promised that you loved me, ONLY me, if I remember your exact words. But that was a lie, too, because he wasn't just your first love; he was your true love. Maybe you've only just discovered that since you returned, but don't lie again by denying it. You know now, even if you wouldn't allow yourself to believe it before."

Meridee was startled, but I wasn't about to let up. "You lied about the sex and intimacy, making it seem minimal due to his pain."

"Why would you say that?" She was no longer in control of any part of the conversation and instead was going on the defensive.

"Again, you know why." I sat there glaring daggers through her, daring her to deny further. "Are you so stupid as to think I don't know when the woman I've been with for six years and married five, is faking orgasms? You should be sitting here admitting the truth to the man you supposedly love, not trying to confuse him into making the marriage work again."

Meridee inhaled as though I'd punched her in the stomach. The true and sudden fear was apparent on her face, but she recovered a bit.

"Okay," she said. "Some of that is true. We reconnected quickly, almost as soon as I arrived. Those first few days, I told myself that it was just because we'd known each other for so long; we'd been friends before we became a couple. Honestly, by the end of the second day, you barely crossed my mind. When you did, I reminded myself that Aimee was there to comfort you, being a friend to both of us. It wasn't until I got in the car to come home that things began to hit me. I had no idea what to expect from you when I got back. I hoped, or told myself that hopefully, you would understand, but the time with Dennis was... magical, being honest."

"And you hoped that Aimee had sufficiently seduced me, so I'd be compliant, maybe feel like things were even."

"Yeah, I did," she admitted. "When I got here and figured out where things stood between us, I admit that I told you a lot of things that I had no idea how I'd pull off. But I do love you, and I wanted to make things right. I knew that it would take me a long time to get over him, or even to forget some of our time together... and to make things up to you."

"You missed the point, though," I corrected. "You fell in love with him, all over again. You weren't honest with yourself about that, or you didn't want to be. I'm not sure if it helped or hurt your cause that I was reluctant to resume our sex life. Maybe it was a Godsend. Either way, it gave you some time. I couldn't get the images of your betrayal out of my head. That's just how men are. I think most women, too.

"My point being, he was your frog and your prince. At some point, you figured that out. You realized that I'd always be second best to Dennis. That's why you relived your time fucking him and could no longer have orgasms with me. Once I figured it out, I really had no desire to screw you or engage in any other sexual stuff. We're just two very different people now."

"I'm so sorry about everything, Josiah," she sounded sincere for the first time. "I understand the first thing you wanted to hear from me was the very last thing I could have considered."

There was a long pause as I found my words. "I get it, Meridee. It's hard to admit you're wrong, especially when you believe you're in the right."

"I know," she said in almost a whisper. Meridee just stared at me, lonely, simple tears running down her cheeks. Then, she did something I'd never in a thousand years have expected.

She got up, wiped her eyes, and walked toward our foyer. That was when I noticed the suitcase sitting off to the side of the door.

"I'm leaving, Josiah, and I'm so sorry," she said bluntly. "You've got it all figured, or so it seems, and I don't. You deserve better, and I deserve to be alone, probably for quite some time while I do some soul-searching and figure out who I am. I'll reach out in a couple of weeks to let you know where to send the paperwork."

I knew what she meant by that but still sat there in shock, stunned by her sudden change of heart-or was it an epiphany?

I'd never know, because that was the last time I ever saw Meridee.

>>>>

It had been a very long, busy, and very hot June day. Aimee and I were resting on the front porch of our oldest daughter and her husband, having just enjoyed our granddaughter, Sarah's, graduation party.

Even though two of our daughters' friends were supposed to build the sweet table and charcuterie board, Aimee and I ended up taking the lead so we could make it look like the pictures Sarah had texted us.

Sarah is a dazzling beauty with many of Aimee's facial features. The gaggle of other pretty girls who showed up as one, an hour after the party began, we were sure was a planned thing. Her boyfriend was a conceited little shit who I instantly disliked, nor did I care much for his parents, who'd walked in like they owned the place. Aimee had put her arm inside mine a half dozen times and squeezed so I didn't embarrass anyone.

"They've got troubles right out of the gate," Aimee said more to herself than to me.

"They do," I confirmed, 'but it's not our place to interfere. They have to figure it out for themselves."

"I know," she said, like she really didn't. We sat watching the young couple in a way only grandparents can pull off without being obvious.

"Do you ever think about her?" my wife, Aimee, asked out of nowhere. "Ever wonder what your life would have been like if things between you had worked out?"

Aimee hadn't brought up Meridee in many years. We were too busy enjoying our lives together. After the divorce, I never saw Meridee again. She wasn't even at the final decree. I hoped she'd learned something, but that part of my life was in the past.

"I don't," she looked at me then. I knew that look, well. "Okay, that's not entirely true. Every now and then, I must admit. To be honest, Aims, there will always be times, when I'm alone in my thoughts, that I think back to what she did... the hurt and humiliation of how she left, then continued to deny her true feelings, the half-assed attempt once he was gone, to convince me that I, not he, was her true love. That still hurts and I think it always will. It's not her as much as it is what she did to me. But every time I do, I immediately think about you and our family. That's when I know that things happened exactly the way they were supposed to all along."

Aimee and I had dated for almost a year even though we were an old pair of shoes by then. We were careful but also anxious to start our lives.

"Good answer, Romeo," she teased, still using her self-assigned nickname for me from the day we met. "That will probably get you a few extra kisses tonight."

"A few?" I asked incredulously, and then we both started laughing hysterically, which earned odd looks from our grown children sitting across the yard. I squeezed Aimee's hand tightly and gave her an air kiss.

"Alright," I said, getting out of my chair and helping my lovely bride of thirty-nine years out of hers. "Let's go kick someone's ass at Corn Hole!" And, we did.