Separate Lives Pt. 03

Oh, hell, now I'm crying too…and Cal has told me before that I can't do that over the keyboard or it'll short out or something. I have to stop now.

********

I thought I got through that first meeting with Sherrie pretty well, all things considered. When she'd starting talking about what she'd done and how she'd hurt me, I steeled myself for a resurgence of the feelings I'd had at the time…but they didn't come. I wound up telling her all that was four and a half years in the past and that we weren't the same people as we were back then and that she should let the disturbing memories slide away.

Without consciously thinking about it—I guess my subconscious mind was working overtime—I told her that all those things happened in a marriage that we weren't involved in any more. I also said the divorce had shut a door on most of the hurt. What was most surprising to me was that I realized halfway through my little speech I actually felt that way. The joy on her face was clear…and contagious.

********

Sherrie and I met to talk things over several times over the next month, usually in a restaurant like we had the first time, but sometimes we took a long lunch and went to a park or something like that. Each time, we discussed something of the incident that had sparked our divorce and we got…well, comfortable is not the word for it…but we became accustomed to talking about it without rancor or recrimination.

I was beginning to be concerned that our ability to talk about it rationally was telling Sherrie something I didn't feel. We spent a couple hours at Denny's one evening talking about the fact that while I might have come to terms with what she'd done, I could never forget those things. While I was sure I was ready to forgive her, I told her there was no way she should consider that as absolution for the things she'd done. She still had to bear the responsibility for them.

To my surprise, Sherrie was more than willing to accept what I said. She told she could not lay the blame for any of it on anyone but herself and that she'd have to live with it for the rest of her life. She opened her pursed to show me she always carried with her one of the pictures I'd taken the night I caught her having sex with that guy. It was a battered old thing, but it hadn't faded much.

Well…there wasn't anything I could say to that. She'd gotten to where I was heading in the conversation before I had and I didn't have to convince her of anything. In some ways, actually, she'd gone beyond the point I'd been trying to make. It was disconcerting. The curious thing was that neither of us seemed to feel bad about the discussion. It was as if we had had to talk that through and when it was done, we could check it off the list of required topics and move forward.

Once past that obstacle, we spent the rest of the evening talking about everythingexcept our troubled past. I got her to talking about her job and how she felt supervising such a large group of analysts and she lit up like a neon sign. She truly enjoyed talking about her job and the people she worked with. When we finally left Denny's, I felt like I knew most of her coworkers and their families.

I had to tip our waitress twenty dollars because we'd sat at her table all night long. I think we'd consumed at least that amount in coffee, so it wasn't a bad deal at all.

********

"So you're going to be four next month…and so is your sister? Wow!" I said. I was talking to Cassie who stood next to my right knee while her sister Courtney sat on my lap. Courtney wasn't talking. She was snuggling tight against my chest with her eyes closed. She was all tuckered out. Both were clad in matching pink shorts, white tops with little cartoon characters on them, and little white sandals.

"We're twins, silly," Cassie said with a giggle. "We always have birt'days at the same time." I pretended to be astounded and got her to talking about what she wanted for her birthday and stuff like that. Courtney roused enough to participate in that discussion and moved to sit more on my left thigh, unconsciously making room for her twin, I'm sure. Soon I had both blond little cherubs on my lap and talking a blue streak. I was amazed at how adult they sounded. Since I wasn't using "baby talk" when I spoke to them, they weren't using it with me. Curious…

Melissa and Cal seemed to always be babysitting the two little girls, so they were usually there when I came over to visit my "sister" and her family. Though I hadn't yet met their mother and father, I was planning to ask if I could buy the girls a present. Maybe Melissa would forward a request to them for me.

Anyway, the girls and I seemed to hit it off remarkably well. They quickly got comfortable calling me "Uncle Ron," just as Melissa's children did. They competed with Melissa's kids for my attention as a team, as twins do, but also between the two of them. It was all very satisfying and heartwarming. I knew women spoke of a "biological clock" ticking. I wondered if I wasn't succumbing to a male version of that clock.

Setting the two of them down and pointing out the other three kids had found something interesting in the far corner of the yard, I ambled over to where Cal was grilling some steaks for the adults and hot dogs for the kids. I had a wonderful time whenever I went to Cal and Melissa's for a barbeque, and that was the main agenda for today.

"Cute kids, huh?" he asked, nodding at the blond twins. They were already with the other children, investigating a snail or something up by the back fence.

"Oh, they are little darlings," I said enthusiastically. "Where are their mom and dad that I haven't ever met them? Heck, it's not like I'm not over here enough. I should have seen them by now."

"Well, their mother is divorced," Cal said cautiously. I guess he thought the concept of divorce was still a painful subject with me. "And she's awfully busy," he added.

"Hmmmmm," I mused. "Uh, you think she'd mind if I bought the girls something for their birthday next month?" I asked. "I mean, I wouldn't want to intrude or anything but I'd love to get them a little something." Cal looked at me strangely.

"Well…maybe you can ask her yourself someday," he suggested. About that time, his right hand jerked forward as Melissa came up behind him and pinched his arm just above the elbow.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "What if I'd been flipping something over on the grill or something?" Melissa just snorted.

"I looked first," she assured him. "Now you quit messing with my big brother, you hear?" Cal mumbled something and turned back to his steaks.

"Don't you mind him," Melissa told me, putting her arm around my waist. "I'll talk to the girls' mother and make sure it's okay to give them something, okay?" I nodded.

I looked down the side of the house when I heard a car passing by. Melissa saw me.

"Oh…I forgot to tell you," she said. "Sherrie called and told me she had a really bad headache and she didn't want to inflict herself on all of us this afternoon. She's not coming, but she said she'd be home if you wanted to call." I was disappointed. Melissa had been Sherrie's friend long before I met Sherrie and I'd thought she might come to the barbeque. I was getting comfortable being around her.

"I may just do that later on," I told Melissa.

I was beginning to see a pattern in Sherrie's behavior. What she told Melissa implied she'd be home all evening and that she was ready to demonstrate that to me by way of the suggestion that I could call and "check up" on her. I don't know why she felt compelled to show me that. It wasn't as if I had a right to question where she was or what she was doing or anything like that. Still, I felt better. I wished she hadn't had a headache.

********

Melissa's Diary:

I couldn't be happier for the two of them. Ron and Sherrie have been meeting for a little more than a month and a half. By each of their stories, they were both enjoying every moment of it. Those two nitwits aren't admitting to themselves that they're dating, and my hubby says he agrees with them, but that's what they're doing all the same.

I get to hear both sides and I'm here to tell you that they both are ready to put the messiness behind them, but neither knows for sure if the other one is. I'm about to burst with the inside information I have and I wish I could tell each of them how the other feels but Cal would cut me off if I meddled.

I talked to Connie the other day and she said she and Tom were surprised they seemed to be getting back together. I don't know why! My goodness, these two havesuch a history together. Sherrie was my roommate then and I know she was practicing writing her name as "Mrs. Sherrie Masters" six days after they met. Heck, earlier than that—she hadn't been able to eat or sleep until he'd called and asked her for that first date. That was two days after he saw her in a little café down on the drag.

I can't see this going on for too much longer though. It's like there's some strange, wonderful power pushing them together and some magical evening real soon, they're going to discover each other. Sherrie hasgot to deal with the question of her roommates though. Things are going to sizzle around here when Ron finds out. I'm afraid—

Ouch! Cal just swatted my shoulder and told me I'd betternot meddle. Anyway, he wants to go upstairs because the kids are all over at the neighbors. See ya later.

********

A couple weeks later, I came back early from a quick trip up to Denver. I'd met with the head of the returning crew from Afghanistan and gotten a debriefing on the status of the contract and for a "Lesson's Learned" conference with the corporate moguls. It was the final chore I had left to close out my stewardship up there as Deputy Assistant Director of Western Operations. It was a relief. It was tiresome trying to stay conversant on two separate sets of problems.

The contract was completed a week ahead of schedule. The Army Corps of Engineers had already inspected the road and pronounced it fully acceptable. We'd learned a lot of things during the process of construction and the next time we got some crumbs from Halliburton's mighty table, we'd be better able to handle it. In particular, we were going to write new internal guidelines for security and organization of supply replenishment operations should we ever be involved in anything like that again.

When we got through late Friday afternoon, the CEO suggested I use one of the corporate Leer Jets and fly home in style instead of waiting until the next day. Take the weekend off, he told me. I grinned, shook his hand enthusiastically, and took him up on his offer. I wound up getting back to town about eighteen hours before I had expected I would. It was dark, but the hour wasn't late at all.

I assessed my fatigue, checking my stress level and such, and decided flying aboard a private jet was incredibly superior to the hassle of flying commercially. I actually arrived fresh and relaxed instead of tense and worn out. I tried to call Melissa and Cal to let them know I was home but the babysitter answered and, not knowing me, wouldn't give me one of their cell phone numbers. I made a note to get both numbers when I saw them.

So I decided to go ahead and join Melissa and Cal out at Fischer's for the evening where I knew they'd been planning to go. I wasn't going to make it for dinner, but I could sit with them and watch the dancing. I kind of missed Fischer's. A lot of good things had happened to me there, including many occasions with Sherrie before we were divorced. I'd had several nice interludes with Karen out there too. I put on a fresh shirt and tie…then decided to change my suit too. It only took a few minutes.

I called Sherrie to see if she would go with me, but she wasn't home. I felt the disappointment keenly.

When I got to the place, it was packed. The parking lot was overflowing and there was a huge crowd inside. Edging inside the main door, I paid the cover charge and wandered inside. I had no idea where Cal and Melissa might be sitting and with all the people here tonight, searching for them might be a long process. I slid into a very temporary hole through the crowd in front of one of the bars and got a tall coke with a splash of bourbon just in case I got thirsty on the hunt.

A few minutes later, I found them at a table near the dance floor. Melissa loved to dance and probably had dragged Cal there from the dining room to be close to the action. I stopped short and moved close to a plastic potted palm near one of the walls. When I stopped, I was partially camouflaged by the ersatz plant…at least for anyone looking my way from Cal and Melissa's table. I'd seen Sherrie dancing—it was what stopped me cold—and I watched her come off the dance floor with an older gentleman. She resumed a seat next to Melissa. The old man bent in a little bow and walked away to join what must have been his wife in a booth fairly close to where I stood.

Sherrie was in a black cocktail dress that came down to a couple inches above her knees. It had to be layered. The chiffon on top looked like it was floating over a satiny under layer. I couldn't imagine that it weighed anything at all. I thought I could see halter straps from the satin under layer leading up and around, probably to tie behind her neck. The bodice was fairly high, so there was no hint of cleavage. The over layer was nearly sheer; the wide straps holding it up across each shoulder shadowed, but did not conceal her creamy skin. Her black high heels molded her ankles and calves into planes and curves that were as beautiful as they'd ever been. I watched my ex-wife for a while, feeling more than a little foolish. Still, I watched for half an hour or thereabouts.

Sherrie was obviously without a date, and she was being swarmed by a mass of unattached men who wanted to enjoy her company. She would dance to fast tunes with some of the guys who came up to the table to ask, but not all of them. She would not, apparently, danceany slow songs with them. Some of the men were irritated by her refusal but she was always adamant. The only exceptions were some older gentlemen who she it seemed that she trusted—oh, and Cal danced one with her. I recognized one of her slow dance partners as a retired doctor who had been a friend of her father's for many years. Sherrie had an empty wine glass in her hand, twirling it around with her fingers for something to do. She refused a refill when the bar waitress came by.

Everything I saw confirmed things Melissa had been hinting at for a long time. Actually, she'd been bombarding me with bits of information, along with the occasional lecture, all to the effect that Sherrie hadn't dated since I'd left, that she didn't drink, didn't get into compromising situations, etc., etc. I saw Melissa hadn't just been trying to be gracious to her old girlfriend. It was all perfectly true. I felt a warm glow flicker into life and grow inside me.

Abruptly, what I was seeing made a connection with something else in my mind. I'd let the bitterness and the hurt slip away from me over the years—I knew that. But I'd not even suspected I was wondering if I could ever trust this woman again. I had not thought I might have adesire to trust her. Sherrie, though, for whatever reason, had been going about her daily life as if someone were watching her every move. She was trying to show me she could be trusted, or at least give me a basis for beginning to do so. It was then that I understood I wanted very badly to trust her. I also knew I wanted to let her know how I felt. I refused to let myself think beyond that.

I put my empty glass on a tray with a dozen others, took a deep breath, and walked around the potted plant and toward Sherrie. When I was almost to the table, Melissa caught sight of me from where she was on the dance floor. She and Cal had been dancing but she stopped dead in her tracks, almost getting run over by a big guy and an even bigger gal hurtling past. Melissa put both hands over her mouth and held them there while she watched me. Cal looked around to see what was happening and I saw a smile cross his homely features. I knew Melissa had already teared up. Poor Cal was in the process of hauling out a huge handkerchief and handing it to her.

I was walking up an aisle leading to the dance floor past Sherrie's table. The angle was so slight between that table and me that Sherrie thought Melissa was looking at her. I could see Sherrie's head cocked to the side as she tried to figure out why Melissa was staring at her. I stopped at Sherrie's side. She didn't know I was there yet.

"I was wondering if you might like to dance," I said, just loud enough to be heard over the mass of people all around. She started to shake her head no—it was a slow song. Then her head jerked around and up to look at me.

Startled, her fingers kicked the wineglass away and it went spinning. I caught it before it could fall to the floor and sat it down in the middle of the table. She looked up at me for a long time, frozen in place while she absorbed the fact that I was there and had asked her for a dance. Then her eyes glistened and she nodded yes. I took her hand while she rose and then led her to the dance floor. In another instant, she was in my arms.

It was a wonderful feeling. Sherrie was an attractive woman, though not a raving beauty, when she had no makeup on at all. With the judicious application of some, she was, in my estimation, gorgeous. Her brunette hair fell softly to her shoulders, bouncing gently with our movements. Her dark eyes never left mine as we danced slowly about the floor.

Without weighing the consequences, I bent and gently kissed her lips. This was the first time I'd had my arms around Sherrie since before our divorce…and the first time I'd kissed her too. But it seemed so natural a thing to do. I saw things had been leading to this moment for a long while.

"I've never known a woman who takes my breath quite the way you always do," I told her softly. She smiled at me through tears that were starting to trickle from the corners of her eyes. "Don't cry," I said. "There's no reason to cry."

At that moment, we collided gently with Cal and Melissa. Sherrie abandoned me and wrapped her arms around Melissa and the two of them started with the waterworks, big time.

"We have to go to the ladies room," Melissa choked out. The two women fled across the floor, leaving Cal looking at me with a long-suffering expression. We shrugged almost simultaneously.

"Well…I'm sure not going to dance withyou," he said. "Let's go back to the table before someone steals it and maybe we can get something to drink." I wisely followed his lead and we did eventually get something to take care of the dryness in our throats.

********

I took Sherrie back to Melissa and Cal's house when we all left. She'd come with them, and her car was parked there. She was spending the night because it was just too late to be driving around town. The only other people out this late were probably going to be drunk, or up to no good.

We sat in my SUV for a while before she went in. We talked, but it wasn't about anything serious. We held hands like two teenagers on their first date, but I wasn't disturbed by that comparison at all. After a while, we quit talking and kissed each other for the second, third, and…well, we caught up on a lot of them.

When Cal and Melissa drove up—they'd detoured by a convenience store for milk—I walked Sherrie to their front door and kissed her goodnight. I didn't want to stop there, but I sensed Sherrie wanted to ease off and think about what we'd done tonight. I guessed I did too.

Chapter 8

When I got right down to it, though, I found I had little to consider. Instead, I welcomed the new…well, renewed…closeness and, though we never discussed it, it seemed she did also. Over the next few weeks, I took Sherrie to dinner or a movie a number of times. I'd have done it more often, but we both had demanding jobs and needed our rest. That limited the number of times we felt like we could go out during the workweek. Even so, we did that a couple of times too.