Sexual Marathon Ch. 07

Chapter 7: Epilogue -- Closed Circle

I kept to my word. On the seventh anniversary of the event, I took out the paper -- I had hidden it at the bottom of a little-used drawer -- read it over, and then burned it.

For many years, the three women who had stolen my innocence never even crossed my mind.

I had several lovers over the years -- they were good, decent women, not kinky in any way -- and I was able to explore with them what true sexual relationships were all about. Possibly as a result of my experience, I worked in a profession where I knew I could help people in trouble.

I married the girl of my dreams. We had a son. I am as in love with her mind as I am with her body, and as much in love with both as the day I met her.

But then I saw them again - many years afterward.

Someone had organized a reunion of our old neighborhood. Out of sheer morbid curiosity -- I had, for obvious reasons, little desire to revisit that part of my life -- I went. I knew at least one of the three girls would probably be there. It was a big club, and I figured I could avoid them. I didn't really know what I would say to them if I couldn't.

About two hours into the party, I was sitting by myself in a corner booth, gathering my thoughts. I had had a great time reconnecting with folks I hadn't seen in over thirty years. We spent a lot of time swapping stories, sharing photos of our kids, exchanging phone numbers and promising to "friend" each other on Facebook. I was nursing a Coke -- how ironic! -- when I saw Sherry and Julie across the room.

Except for a couple of extra pounds here and there, the years had been kind to them. Sherry was wearing a tight dark-blue sweater, a black leather mini-skirt, black tights and black leather high-heeled boots. Sorry, but even though she still had the figure for it, she looked like an aging version of the whore I'd called her in 1979. Julie was wearing a smart beige pants suit, befitting the successful executive I knew she had become. You've seen her name in the paper, I'm sure. Except for flecks of grey, their hair still looked the same. So did their faces.

The second they saw me, they made a beeline for the booth. They slid in on either side of me. Trapped again.

Julie said, "Is the 'restraining order' still in effect? May we sit with you?"

I replied, without commitment, "Free country, ladies. This will be interesting. The last time I had any close contact with any of you, I was cumming all over Sherry's face. Any kids any of you had around May 1980 that I should know about?" They both looked at me, apparently shocked that I would cut to the chase so quickly, but both shook their heads.

"You lived up to your end of the bargain, and left me alone. I fulfilled mine. I burned the confession." I looked around. "Where's Rachel?"

Sherry's normally confident, strident manner instantly vanished. Her shoulders slumped, and she bowed her head. "AIDS. Almost twenty years ago. She just made it to age 30. She did a lot of booze and drugs. Bounced from bed to bed. Wound up with the wrong guy." She started to cry. Her body convulsed along with her sobs.

I had never seen her that vulnerable.

Julie added, "True nymphomaniacs are rare, but it looks like Rachel actually was one. It was her sexual addiction that wound up killing her."

I fought every temptation to say the wrong thing. I was trying very hard not to feel the pain of this woman who had orchestrated my degradation so long ago. But I guess I'm just too kind. It's who I am. I put my arm around the sobbing woman instead and quietly said "I'm sorry, Sherry. I really am." I meant it, too.

Sherry embraced me and said, "Oh my God, you are a fucking SAINT! You could say that after what she -- we -- did to you?"

She continued: "As she lay dying in her hospital bed, she confessed everything to our parents, who promptly disowned me. One of the last things she said to me was, 'If you ever see Mike again, tell him I'm sorry about what we did. I've carried that on my conscience for too long. Please make it your business - tell him!'" I swore to her I would.

Sherry brushed away tears -- these I took on faith to be ABSOLUTELY genuine - and then stared intently at me. "Even if I'd known how to reach you, I don't know that I could have done this. But I was hoping you were going to be here tonight, so I practiced and practiced. I know I'm only going to get one shot at this, so I hope my words are right. I made a deathbed promise to my sister and now I'm going to keep it.

"This is from both me and Rachel. But please know this comes from my heart especially. What we did to you was horrible, humiliating and just plain evil. It should never have happened. You were a sweet, decent guy and you didn't deserve that. 'I'm sorry' is just two words, and they don't come close to describing how badly she felt, and I feel, about what we did to you. I know you probably could never forgive us, but please know that this is truly how we -- I -- feel." Sherry began to sob again and held me tighter.

Julie leaned in. I put my other arm around her. She was also crying. "I think you know how I feel. We talked about it that morning. But I'll say it again just to make sure. You may forgive me, but I'll never forgive myself for what we did to you. It was wrong, terribly wrong. You were right about one thing: I HAVEN'T been able to look at myself in the mirror, because I see something really ugly there. Rachel confessed to her parents, but I never told my mother what happened. I don't know that I could, or ever face her again if I did. Mike, whatever you tell me to do, I'll do. I owe you that much."

It's just not in my nature to hold grudges for that long. Not even with these two. Adding in the horrible way that Sherry had lost her sister -- Rachel, a beautiful flower gone astray - well, I felt they'd done their penance.

"We're good, ladies. You've said you're sorry. I believe you are. Julie, as far as telling your mother, do what you feel is right. If it's okay, I'd like to say for the record," I added, "that you both still look as beautiful to me as you did back... well... before."

They both shook as I held them. They also both hugged me like they were never going to let go. I suddenly had an uncomfortable flashback and shook myself from their grips. They understood.

"Come on, girls, get it together. This is supposed to be a happy party. So tell me, what became of your lives after... you know... what we did?"

Julie was the first to regain her composure. "You first", she said. "I'm mostly interested in... well... you know... were there any lasting residual effects?"

"English, Julie, English." I knew exactly where she was going. I just wanted to make her squirm a little.

Julie was embarrassed to just come out and say it. "Did you have any difficulty with your sexual relationships after our... umm... incident?"

I smiled. Oddly, I had no difficulty discussing this most intimate aspect of my life with them. Probably because they had once been part of it. "Strangely enough, no. I only really had a tough time the first time afterward, which was about two years later. She came on kind of aggressively, and I had trouble getting an erection. Possibly I had a flashback. When I asked her to slow down a bit, she did, and then I was okay. I had trouble sleeping with another person in the bed for a while -- it brought back the feeling of being confined from that night -- but that also disappeared after a spell. I don't particularly like blowjobs." I stared right at Sherry, who looked up and smiled slightly. "My wife and I are married over twenty years and we've enjoyed a very healthy sex life. By the way, she knows about what happened. I told her the whole story. She's going to be VERY interested in this conversation."

Sherry slapped herself on the side of her head. "Oh my GOD, what she must think of us!"

I laughed. "You don't know the half. She thinks you, Sherry, are Satan incarnate. Her exact words: 'I'll slap the shit out of that fucking bitch if I ever meet her.' I'll just have to make sure that never happens. (Strangely enough, they actually became friends after they met. Go figure.) But enough about that. Let's hear about the lucky" -- I said the word with a dry, sarcastic tone -- "guys who snagged you two."

They held out their left hands. Both of their ring fingers were empty.

Julie spoke first. "Two-time loser here. Both of my husbands were decent guys. I found out after a year or two with each of them that I wasn't as much in love with them as I'd thought. Not either of their fault. Mine. Completely. I guess I really didn't spend enough time learning about what a real relationship was. I shouldn't have married either one of them."

Then it was Sherry's turn. "I guess I got the husband I deserved, after what I did to you. I wanted to be able to control men, as you know from firsthand experience. There was nothing about him I could control -- not his wild spending, his temper tantrums, his boozing or cheating or anything else. I tolerated a lot of it, because I still had you on my conscience even after so many years. When I found out he was having an affair with one of my old friends -- someone you know, by the way, and who is here tonight -- that's where I drew the line. I filed the divorce papers the very next day. He comes from money, and he'll be paying me for the rest of my life. But I'm alone. And I guess I deserve to be."

I shook my head. Inside, my brain was saying Good. You three bitches, you all got what you had coming. But I banished the thought from my mind, and said earnestly, "Despite what we've been through, I wouldn't wish that kind of pain on anyone."

Sherry turned to Julie and said, "Do we deserve this guy, or what? He actually could say all these kind things to us, so many years afterward? And he got the long-lasting relationship to boot!"

Julie added, "It took me and Sherry a long time to repair our friendship -- we didn't talk to each other for almost a year afterward. But we gradually started calling each other and we hashed things out. I insisted, as a friend, that Sherry get therapy. She never told her parents why she was going -- I guess they figured it out after Rachel's confession.

"I never spoke to Rachel again except on the phone. Had no use for her at all. She would call me a fucking bitch and whore to her friends, who in turn would tell me. She felt I stole you from her. You know, I'm sorry she's gone, but..." Her voice trailed off.

The sentence didn't really need to be finished.

Sherry didn't bother to argue. She knew the truth. Her sister had a host of disorders that nobody had recognized or bothered to treat. They led her to self-destructive behavior that eventually took her life. It was that simple.

Sherry turned my face towards her, held it in her hands and said, "I'm going to the cemetery next week to visit Rachel. Julie's coming with me. Would you please come also? Perhaps as a way of putting a period on all of this? It would mean a lot to me... and wherever Rachel is, I know it would mean a lot to her too." I told her I'd check with my wife and get back to her about it.

(As events turned out, I did wind up going with them. The entire experience was very cathartic, releasing me finally from the grip of the nightmare I'd experienced so long ago. Sherry asked me to sing the Eagles' "Take It To The Limit" -- Rachel's favorite song -- at the gravesite. It was very moving. We were all crying when I was done.)

They both hugged me again, and Sherry kissed me on my cheek. Sherry said, "I know I shouldn't ask this, but... could we at least be friends? Not with benefits, or anything else, but FRIENDS friends? REAL friends?" Julie didn't have to ask. I turned and flashed her a warm smile that told her everything she needed to hear. She smiled back.

Turning back, I said, "You could start, Sherry, by buying me another Coke... and without the extra ingredients this time, please!"

Sherry laughed. "Promise, babe. Absolute promise!"