Love Letters Ch. 01

"Yeah, well, that's what you do when you love someone. You spoil them." That I didn't choke on the words was a minor miracle. "You should try it sometime with all those girls you date. Maybe one would hang around if you did."

As soon as the dig at him was out of my mouth, I regretted it. It was stupid. I held my breath, waiting for his response, hoping I hadn't revealed my true feelings for the prick.

Zack laughed. "You're probably right, but then you're assuming I want them to hang around. Maybe, I prefer variety."

"Spice of life and all that, hey?"

"Yeah, something like that."

Except for Claire. Except for my wife. Her, you've been dipping your dick into for twelve years.

I needed to end the call before I gave myself away.

"Well, I'll leave you to your skirt chasing. I kind of like a guaranteed sex life. Hell of a lot less work to get into their knickers once you've put a ring on their finger. Cheaper too."

"I don't know about that. A few dinners seems a heck of a lot less than what I see some married dudes coughing up to please their wives."

"Maybe." I forced a laugh, unable to resist one last dig. "But, then again, Claire has always been easy to please. Bring her home a bunch of flowers and I get my cock sucked just the way I like. More than once, in fact, and just the way I taught her. I won't even go into what she does when presented with a new handbag for her ever-expanding collection. Let's just say when I do I have a good week. More than good and worth every penny."

There was silence on the other end of the phone and I wondered if I'd gone too far—I never spoke crudely about Claire.

"Damn, I'd best get off the turps. I've obviously been drinking too much while making these calls. It's loosened my tongue way too much."

"No worries, Danny. Your secret's safe with me."

Hopefully, safer than the way you respected our family ties and Claire's marriage vows, asshole.

"Yeah, thanks. Talk soon."

My thoughts flitted across the surface of my mind like the stones I'd so often skimmed across the still surface of the lake of my childhood. I thought of stupid things. Things I hadn't thought of in years. Zack and I scampering off into the bush behind his house to try the cigarettes Zack had nicked from his father, the pair of us coughing and spluttering. Shaun, Zack, and I playing touch footy with the other neighborhood kids. Sleepovers where the three of us whispered long into the night. Zack and I on a double date at the drive-in. Both of us virgins and nervous as hell. The three of us trying to outdo each other playing Pokémon on our Gameboys. Fishing. Swimming. Surfing. Camping. So many thoughts. So many memories.

All sullied.

When had Zack forgotten our friendship? Our shared childhood? Our kinship? When had he decided betraying me was a price he was willing to pay to slip his cock into my girl? My wife. How could he look at himself in the mirror knowing what he'd done to me? To our family? How had he rationalized it to himself?

I clenched my jaw, forcing a halt to my thoughts. They wouldn't help me, only hurt me and drive me crazy with lack of answers.

Sad, but satisfied I'd achieved my aim of concealing my whereabouts for the next week—depending on who or how many people Claire spoke to, she'd think I was north, south, or west of our home—I headed for the shower.

# # #

Another night of tossing and turning. Another night haunted by questions I wasn't likely to ever have answers to. At least, not an honest answer. Not one I could accept without reservation or doubt. By their actions, both Claire and Zack had shown themselves to be deceitful, untrustworthy, and self-serving. Anything they said in their own defense would be suspect.

That rankled. I wanted the truth. I couldn't stop the questions streaming through my mind. I wanted to know why. I wanted to know how they could do such a terrible thing. I wanted there to be something. Something I could put my finger on. Something I could point at and say; 'Yes, that's why she betrayed me. That's why she didn't love me.' The situation would be easier to bear if there were something specific I could blame. Some simple explanation that would make sense of it all and protect me from the torture of not knowing why.

If, for her, there'd never been the spark, the connection, why marry me? If she wanted Zack, why hadn't she married him? If she wanted to screw around, why marry at all? Why the betrayal? The cruelty? Why all lies, the years and years of deceit? Why the careless indifference to my feelings?

And him? I wanted to know how he was able to look me in the eyes all these years and blatantly lie to me again and again and again. I wanted to know how he could so deny our shared history. How was he able to stand by me in the church knowing what he'd done? How could he take pleasure in it?

I wanted the same truths from Claire. How? How could she? Why? She had a good life. She was loved and cherished. So why? What did I do wrong? For fuck's sake, what did I do wrong?

And deep down, I knew nothing I'd done could ever justify their actions, but even knowing that, it still tore me apart to realize I'd never know the full truth.

You're going to have to find a way to come to terms with that, Danny, old man. You're never going to know. Torturing yourself over it only gives them more power and you've already given them too much.

Despite my internal pep talk I continued to churn on all I didn't understand. Unable to remain lying in bed, I climbed out and switched on the light. In two steps I was standing before the antique cheval mirror Claire had sweet talked me into buying only a week earlier. I dropped my boxer shorts and studied myself. I even turned and examined the view of my ass and back.

I was in good shape. Even if I didn't meet up with Shaun a few times a week at the gym, my work as a carpenter would guarantee that. Flaccid, my penis wasn't that impressive, but my package had always been more of the grow than a show variety. Erect, I was at least seven inches with plenty of girth, so no porn star, but no slouch either. I'd certainly never had any complaints prior to going exclusive with Claire. I even man-scaped for her, though I'd drawn the line at having the bit of hair on my chest waxed.

Facially, I didn't have movie star looks. Definitely, no Brad Pitt or Henry Cavill. I was more a young Bill Pullman, but Zack wasn't likely to have them swooning in the aisles either. We were similar in height and build; if I was to get picky, Zack was softer around the gut, with the beginning of love handles, but, all in all, neither of us was markedly better looking or in better shape. So if appearance wasn't a motivating factor for Claire's betrayal; what was it then?

Was I a mediocre lover? A dud in bed? Claire had always seemed satisfied, enthusiastic even, during sex, but perhaps she'd been faking it all these years. She'd so thoroughly fooled me about everything else I no longer trusted my beliefs about our lovemaking.

I felt cast adrift; anchorless in a fast flowing river. Everything I'd believed about Claire and I was false. Nothing about our life was as I'd thought it to be. With no truth to hang onto I felt lost.

I caught sight of myself in the mirror and cursed Claire and Zack for the droop in my shoulders and bow to my head. Watching my reflection, I remembered my resolution of the previous evening to not beat myself up for Clair and Zack's actions. I wasn't responsible for their actions—they were.

I deliberately straightened and squared my shoulders, lifting my chin. My look was defiant. They wouldn't defeat me. I refused to give them that. They wouldn't break me. I wouldn't let them. They'd taken enough from me. I'd give them no more.

# # #

I grinned. It was more malicious than happy, but it was a start. It was 5:00AM and Claire was not a morning person. Even at seven, the time I usually woke her, I just about needed a crowbar to lever her out of bed.

HEY ÉCLAIR. SORRY 2 MESSAGE SO EARLY BUT 4GOT LAST NITE. BLAME THE BEER! WILL BE OUT ON A JOB TILL L8 FRI. WILL CALL WHEN I CAN. LUV U.

Using my nickname for Claire made me bristle with distaste, even more than did signing off with 'luv you.' Never again would I think of her as something deliciously sweet and light.

Awake or not, I doubted she'd reply. More than likely, she'd read it and roll over and try to go back to sleep, probably cursing me.

My grin remained in place as I rinsed my coffee cup and placed it on the draining rack. I reached down and grabbed my duffle, heading for the front door. I was going away for a few days, making more of a truth of the story I'd told my father and brother.

After my alibi-setting calls of the previous evening I made a decision that prompted one more. I called Ray who worked for me as my foreman and told him the same story I gave my Dad and Shaun. We chatted for a bit about our current job and I rang off knowing I could trust him to carry on while I was gone.

Closing the front door, I marveled at the quiet; no barking dogs, not even the birds had begun their morning song. I breathed in the cool autumn air appreciatively. It was sweet, heavy with the perfume from the profusion of jasmine cascading along the entire length of trellis fence separating the cottage from our neighbors, the McDonalds, on the left.

I threw my duffle onto the passenger seat of my pride and joy—my Toyota Hilux work ute. I guess you could say it showed I truly am a man with simple tastes. Porsches and Lamborghinis didn't do it for me, but a souped up work truck, well, that got my motor running, pardon the pun. Mine was a highly polished, non-standard blood-red with a custom designed tray jam-packed full of built-in toolboxes, drawers, and shelving that helped keep my work life organized.

I backed down the driveway and headed in the direction of the highway. It felt good to be on the road. With every mile I put between myself and the cottage my head became clearer, my thoughts more focused. Being away from everything 'Claire' made it easier to think. And I needed to think.

And plan.

# # #

To be continued