Long after the Game Ch. 01

"The sex thing, well, like I said, good idea, but hard to really make work. You need to make damn sure he's dosed up with Viagra or whatever, because if he fails to perform – and I'll put money that that's a distinct possibility – then the whole project is done. If he can't get over the images in his head, he will fail, and if he does, you are done. You simplycannotlet him fail.

"Thinking about it further, are you guys really aware of the damage Deanna did? I mean, I'm sure you've been to therapy and all, and the therapist has walked you through it, but all of you guys are the ones who handed it out. And you aren't male. You have no idea of what he feels, what he's trying to overcome. He'll be feeling vulnerable, frustrated, angry at you at strange times. He's overcoming a blow to his ego that you just can't comprehend. It's an attack at a place where no man has a defense. If you said shit about his cock being smaller than your lovers, well,there is nothing he can do about that.And you can't ignore it or lie about it either. What you have to do with the sex thing is show him that he really does it for you – without faking it. You fake it and it's done – and that you activelywantwhat he does for you. Thatonlyhe can do for you. That it's the best thing, and no one else can do it. And you can only do that with love. He may not be the greatest fucker – sorry ladies, I have to use the real words here – but you have to convince him that he does it for you. Without, as I said, faking or using any bullshit. And that's on top of getting him to climb into bed with you in the first place. Remember, you are tainted goods to him, although, if you've not been screwing other guys, and you say so in your journals, that will help there."

Trey looked expectantly at Deanna, who looked right back, and said, "I'm shocked you need to ask."

Trey just maintained his stare and eventually said evenly, "Well, you did fuck around on him."

Deanna recoiled and Mae stood up. "That was uncalled for," she said, sharply.

"You don't think he's not going to think that? That he's not going to say things like that? And worse?" challenged Trey to Mae.

Deanna had recovered and stared back at Trey, eyes blazing. "No, I haven't fucked around. I tried dating a bit – like you – but it didn't work. I did have a couple of guys in my bed, but I actually kicked them out before we went too far, when I realized all they wanted was my ass."

Deanna was aggressive and in his face – obviously angry.

Trey pursed his lips and said, "And is that how you are going to react when Ryan says these things?"

There was a sudden silence as the group digested that. Trey visibly relaxed his body so his body language was non-threatening, and Deanna had a dawning realization of the likely complexity of the task she had set herself.

Deanna looked away from Trey and bit her lip. She whispered, "Sorry ,Trey"

Trey said, in the kindest tone he could manage, "Look Deanna, I'm pretty sure this little plan of yours looks good and sounds good. It sounds to me that you've been concentrating on this for months. Well, I don't think it's all going to go as smoothly as you think. I think it's a hell of an undertaking. But, if you've got your heart set on it, then ok. I'll help. But my help might be given in a way that you aren't expecting. You've got you heart set on something, to the point where I don't think you are completely understanding of all the dynamics involved. But, I'm here. I'll help. I don't think it's going to work, but I'm in."

"Why won't it work?" asked Rhonda, directly.

"Well, there are so many factors here. What you did, what he did to get back at you. I mean, come on, you have to be really pissed off at someone to do what trick with the Jumbotron. The time between when you last really were with him in a family way. The fact is, he could easily have moved on since then, if only mentally. He may just not want you around, bringing up bad memories. So many potential issues."

Trey was thoughtful for a moment, and without thinking took another sip of coffee, instantly regretting it.

"Although, the strength of his response to your...activities, well, it denotes high passion, either way. He really loved you. He had to, to react so strongly," he said, thoughtfully.

There was more silence for a moment, and then Rhonda chuckled and said, "Where the hell were you whenIneeded you???" and everyone smiled.

Deanna got up from the couch, went over to Trey and hugged him. She had tears in her eyes and said, "Just from listening to you in the past five minutes, I don't think we could do this without your input. You are probably the difference between this working and not. Thank you Trey. You are a good man."

Trey was evidently uncomfortable and gave Deanna a bland smile.

Deanna stood up. "Ok girls, to work! We have plans to make! More coffee, anyone?"

*****

So it came to pass that about a week later, I got a text from Deanna. It said, "Can we meet for dinner? Need to talk to you."

I sat there, staring at it off and on for almost an hour. I was out with Simon – his latest love of the moment was cooking. Some how he'd persuaded the bar we were in – walls covered in TV's, of course - to switch over to Top Chef and I was squirming with embarrassment, because he was just sitting there loving it and completely oblivious to the stares of the sports fans. I, however, was not. I met the steel gaze of certain other individuals in the bar and either shrugged apologetically, or looked away.

I kept coming back to the text. What did it mean? What did she want to say that we hadn't already said? Was there something up with the kids? Maybe she had met someone, or was moving away. Or maybe she had a disease. Or cancer! Or maybe she'd won the lottery! I wonder if she'd give me any of the money, if she did? Oh. There goes that shiny object tendency again. One day I really must do something about that. Now, a nice Jaguar. I could be happy in one of those. I wonder how much they really cost? There I go, letting my mind wander again. Have I mentioned I do that a lot?

Eventually, of course, it dawned on me that there was a pretty easy way to find out what she wanted. I texted her back "OK. Concerning?"

I got one back saying "Us," which at least removed the concern about the kids or health or money, sadly. I had an inkling that this would be interesting, or at least informative, if I could keep my cool and keep my emotional distance, so I showed Simon and said, "What do you think?"

He looked at the texts and looked at me, and drank a big old quaff of beer – incidentally, whatisa quaff? Is it different from 'sucking it down'? Can you quaff other things? How big is a quaff? What differentiates it from just chugging? Enquiring minds want to know. OH! There goes that distraction thing again. Man, I gotta do something about that. Seriously. One day.

Simon put down his beer and said, "Interesting. What ya gonna do?"

I looked at him and said, "I was asking you that."

"Well," he replied, "Polly says you should stay as far away from her as possible. 'Don't let that she devil get her hooks into you again' were her words I think."

Polly was Simon's long-suffering wife. Petite, a firecracker and resigned to living with what was effectively a 42 year old 10 year old. But she loved him – he totally lucked out with her. Oh, she loved him. She had to, to stick around.

Our relationship was great. I gave her shit, she handed it back, and everything was golden. She made no bones about her opinions; they were given to you with no apologies. You either accepted them or you did not. I always did; it seemed safer all around. I'd leave visiting them with the same number of limbs I started out with, that way.

"Yeah," I said, considering, "trouble is, she IS the mother of my kids. Easier to say than to really apply in a practical manner though. But I think I can handle this. It's been almost two years now."

Simon nodded, looked at me for a second – and I could tell he was in two minds to say something – and then just said, "Yeah. You gotta go."

And then someone did something amazing with a cheeseball or something and his attention was back on the stupid cooking show.

So instead of doing it all by text, I took a chance. I got up and wandered outside of the bar – being grateful it wasn't raining; this is Chicago, after all - and called her.

"Hello Ryan," she answered, "I didn't think you'd call."

I could hear the TV in the background. Unless I missed my guess, it was an episode of the Big Bang Theory. Sheldon was describing the rules to Rock, Paper, Scissor, Lizard, Spock.

"Might as well, otherwise it takes forever to go back and forth. What do you need Deanna?"

"Dinner, with you," she said, simply. I should have guessed what was up just from that statement alone.

"Is there something up? Something we need to talk about?" I asked, curiously.

"Sort of. Look, it's easier to do in person. The phone is too...impersonal. Can we meet?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess so. How does Thursday work? Paula is home and can watch the other two that night. Outback? In Schaumburg? I can come to you."

"Sure, that works. 7?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

There was an awkward silence. We'd both run out of things to say at this point. In the end, I broke the silence.

"Well, I'll see you then, then," I said, then broke the connection.

I put the phone away – I'd learned my lesson about leaving it out, finally. The most recent event had been when I'd left my phone out and twitter logged in and discovered that while I'd been in the bathroom, I had my phone number posted, along with an invitation for anyone to text me the dirtiest sentence they could think of. Since text notes showed up on the main screen of my phone, having those suddenly appear when in the middle of a meeting was embarrassing to the nth degree. Simon always asked innocently if I'd 'gotten any new suggestions recently'. At some point I'm going to have to get him back. I went back inside, wondering what was so pressing. She was probably going to get married or something. Wanted to tell me in person.

Boy, was I ever wrong. Well, not about her wanting to get married. Just who to.

*****

Thursday arrived, as it is wont to do. I had a meeting in Des Plaines that day, talking to an artist we'd found. We, – Deke, Kevin and I, - were trying to decide if this guy was good enough to be our art director – create the style the game would use, like cartoony, gritty, 8 bit (yeah, I'd had a huge crash course in the past months. I now knew what '8 bit' meant when talking about graphics and music) – or whether he was just going to be good enough to farm out some pre-defined art needs. I took the guys with me, since they were better able to judge than I was.

They seemed satisfied that he was competent, but still wanted to see other artists' work before making a decision. At some point I was going to have to force them into a decision, because time is money and we were wasting some, I felt.

They went back to the office once we were done, and I headed over to Schaumburg, to the Outback on Golf road. Traffic was horrendous, but I got there with ten minutes to spare. Luckily I'd called ahead and got call ahead seating, so when Deanna arrived, I already was already at a table.

She looked good. I could tell she was trying. Her hair was perfect, the make up, just so. I even noticed she was wearing her engagement ring, just on the other hand. That was a nice touch, if a little ominous. I began to seriously wonder what this was about.

She sat down and did the usual, "You look good," "How are things" etc. I didn't honestly know how much of my situation she knew – she knew we'd moved, obviously, and she knew where I was living since she picked up the kids. I wasn't sure how much she knew about my new career, but I figured Paula or Saffron had mentioned it. Jamie was beside himself over it all – he was a video game-aholic, and was chomping at the bit to be involved and see the game we were making. One of them must have talked about it. I didn't bother going down the path of "I want nothing spoken about me to your mother" to the kids because, well, what's the point? They aren't going to do it anyway. They'll mention stuff; better not to put the pressure on them to try and keep it all silent and then be mad at themselves if they accidentally blabbed.

The waitress arrived, we ordered drinks and dinner and then we just sat there, looking at each other. She seemed to be searching my face for something – what, I've no idea. I looked at her searchingly, and she suddenly shook her head and smiled and said, "Yes, we should talk. Or I should talk. There are things to say. Can I ask that you...let me finish? I have a lot to go through and a question to ask and I need to just blurt it all out, without interruption. If you ask questions, we'll go off topic and I'll never finish it."

I was a little taken aback by that, but ok, what the hell. I had nothing to lose.

"Sure. I promise to shut up til you are done. I have experience with that." I knew at the moment those words left my lips that it was a mistake. Apparently the bitterness on my part was not done. Deanna pulled back and her face clouded, but then she smiled in a brittle fashion and said, "I guess I deserved that."

"I'm sorry," I said, getting it in before she continued. "That was...inappropriate. I'll try and do better, but, you gotta understand where I am coming from here. Please, continue."

She nodded and I could see her pull herself back to business.

"Ok, well, you remember I told you I wouldn't let you go? That I'd be back in your life? That I'd mount a campaign to get you back?"

I nodded. Nothing else to say.

"Well, yeah. You haven't heard from me much over the last few months. I've been in therapy – you know the guy, Jim Vonnie. I know you've seen him a few times yourself"

I nodded again. Nothing for me to add to that, either.

"It's been a long hard slog for me to understand myself. I don't even think we got all the cobwebs out, but we did have a good airing in the corners. I think I know what happened now...no, that's not why we are here..."

She could see me shift uncomfortably. I honestly didn't want to revisit this right now, not being blind-sided.

"That's a conversation for another day. No, today is about me telling you I'm ready. I'm finally in a place where I can start getting you back."

There was silence for a second while I digested that, and the waitress brought our drinks and appetizers. We ate for a bit, and I could see as she ate how nervous Deanna was. She disguised it well, but you can't live with someone for fifteen years and not pick up on mannerisms. She ate with small bites, but fast, like she wanted to get it over with.

"What ma.." I started, and Deanna instantly raised her hand and went, "Nuh hu."

I fell silent and smiled at that. She used to do that all the time when we were married – If I tried again, I'd get it again, and she'd interrupt me constantly saying "Nuh uh" with that look that says "No, Shut up!" For the first time, I started to wonder at my own feelings. I had a wave of nostalgia and desire for times past and that was a first in the past few months. More food for thought later.

She pushed away her Shrimp on the Barbie and smiled at me. "Where were we? Oh yes. You and me again. Look, I told you I would be coming for you, and I am. I wanted you to know that. There are other things I need you to know. I don't know if I apologized to you...properly. From the depth of my heart. I treated you so badly and you did nothing to deserve it. I am so, so sorry for causing the hurt in you. The things you must have thought about yourself that simply were never true. I just... well."

She stopped and took another drink, gulping down the beer, avoiding looking at me.

Once her control was re-established, she said, "I have never asked you for forgiveness though. You may have noticed that. That's not because I don't want it, or I don't feel I need it; it's because I don't think I deserve it. What I did was unforgivable, and you shouldnotforgive me, at least not easily. I need more penance than that. But what Idoneed from you is a chance."

I blinked at that, and was about to say something when the hand went up again. I looked at it, and decided to keep quiet.

"Look, I know I blew away any and all trust you had in me. I know that. And I know that trust is hard to earn and easy to destroy, and I also know that without achanceto rebuild it, I'm dead in the water. I want, no, Ineedan opportunity to prove to you that I am worthy of the risk of rebuilding trust between us. I know you don't have to give it to me. But I need to ask. Wait!" she said, as I drew breath again. I really needed to stick to my promise.

"The thing is, and I've been thinking a lot about this, and you'll see that in a bit, and your point in that text about what wouldIdo to fix this, make it up to you, is something that's been on my mind. I mean, the immediate response to that is for me to ask 'what do you want me to do?' but that's a copout and puts all the responsibility for determining what would fix this on your shoulders. I've done enough of that, and it would just be more shit that's not fair, so your question to me really was what got this ball rolling.Ihave to come up with ideas to show you I'm worthy of a chance. Not you, but me. I made this happen, this is my responsibility. I recognize that."

She stopped to take a breath and glance at me, looking at my expression. Whatever she saw there, it was enough for her to plow on.

"Now, there's more. First, I have been meeting with a bunch of friends, who've been in the same situation as I have. We've been...supporting each other. Making suggestions and things. I have a plan here. I want to do something, and I need your permission and your cooperation – enthusiastic or not – to prove to you that I should be given another chance. I'm not asking you to just blindly do that. I want to do some things that are designed to show you why youshouldgive me the chance to rebuild our lives together. It'll only be a few weekends, and I guarantee you, you won't regret it."

She blurted out that last line and then sat there, frozen, looking at me with a desperate longing, searching my face for what I was thinking.

I sat there, stunned. And the steaks arrived. I ate mine mechanically. I'm sure it tasted good but I really have no recollection of it. Of all the things she could have said, I wasn't expecting this.

I had no idea how to react to this. There was no sudden influx of feeling, one way or another. Nothing to guide me as to what I really wanted. Half way through the steak I put my fork down and said, "So, let me reiterate what you said, so I can be sure I understood it" – it's a common tactic that sales people do in order to be sure they've got an order right. She nodded, chewing on her steak.

"You want me to put aside my feelings about what happened, and allow you several weekends so you can, what, make it up to me? Make me understand how much you love me? Try and reignite that?"

"No, that's not it. Well, it would be great if that happened, but I think we both know there is too much damage for that to be realistic. No, what I want is to persuade you that I'm worth taking a risk on. Do you remember when we first started dating?" she said, suddenly changing direction.

I nodded dumbly since it seemed the thing to do.

"You remember how hard you worked to get me to go out with you? After that ridiculous night at the CroBar when we met? I remember telling you that us dating would not happen."

"Well, you were living with that idiot bar keeper at the time. The one that you were taking phone calls for, from women he was chatting up in the bar. I have no idea why you were still there," I said. "I never understood that, but whatever."