The Sanctimonious Twit

In order to get Kathy's consent Rowan brokered a deal with her. Rowan wanted her blessing to slip-up, to give into a fantasy, to flirt and not feel guilty for any of his actions. The deal, simply put, was that Rowan wanted the freedom to "give in" to that once-in-awhile temptation. Kathy, being anything but stupid, agreed so long as the agreement went both ways. She believed having such a two-way agreement in place would be enough for Rowan to think twice before actually sleeping with someone else. She probably understood Rowan's sense of guilt and how it controlled much of his behavior better than he did.

For Rowan iIt seemed like a fairly fool proof deal. Rowan convinced Kathy they both should have the freedom to be with someone else so long as they told the other person what they did, when and with whom. It would require each of them to be open and honest with one another. For Rowan, it seemed like a great solution. He just did not know he was lying to himself about what he wanted.

Agreements, whether formal contracts or verbal consensus deals, like the one Kathy and Rowan discussed, are frequently tested. If they are legal contracts litigation may challenge the validity of the agreement. For Kathy and Rowan it was a series of events that occurred over a two week period that would seriously challenge their marriage and the "deal".

It wasn't too long after Kathy and Rowan had brokered their "deal" that Rowan's father died. This meant flying from Denver to San Francisco to take care of the burial. His father was a career military man who had also spent the last 15 years of his life living the secrete world of Masonry (Free Masons) so the memorial service was very elaborate. The ceremony might as well have been something the Templers executed in the seventeenth century behind locked doors. It took five days to plan and lasted two hours. By the time Rowan had taken care of his father's funeral he was exhausted and just wanted to get back to his wife, to the comfort of her loving arms, to snuggle in her auburn hair that always smelled of jasmine.

He'd forgotten about the brokered deal.

Before Rowan could leave San Francisco a colleague called asking if he would visit a refugee family whose 16 years old son was in the hospital in Milpitas. Even though he wanted to say no to his friends request, run back to Denver and let his grief wash over him, he acquiesced to the request for help. He also felt obligated, especially since he'd spent the last ten years working with the immigrant community.

When Rowan got to the hospital in Milpitas he found a fairly emaciated boy who weighed no more than 85 pounds, was on several intravenous drips, and barely conscious. The boy and his family were Vietnamese and had recently immigrated to the States so it was especially tedious helping the boy and his family. The language barriers were significant. Rowan needed to frequently use interpreters to help them understand what was happening to their son. This was also difficult because there was frequently no Vietnamese equivalent for the medical terminology used by doctors and nurses.

Rowan had been so caught up in the loss of his father that it almost was a relief to be helping prepare a family for the death of their son (if it is at all possible to prepare anyone for someone's death). The only good thing was that the boy, whose name was Tran Nguyen, died peacefully in his sleep a few days later. Tran's family, being Buddhist, were more accepting of their son's death, than Rowan. This was because they believed in karma (fate) and reincarnation. The family was convinced Tran would be reborn into a better life. This, when believed, can be very comforting.

Rowan stayed with the family for another three days, accepting their hospitality and attending the first two days of a Buddhist ceremony (that lasted seven days) before returning to Denver, to Kathy, to his friend William, and Rufus. The only thing on his mind was getting back to the woman he loved, to what Rowan believed was the perfect marriage.

The death of Rowan's father and Tran was not the test. Burying people you love is simply one of the most stressful things we experience, but a part of life we have no control over. Psychologists tell us loss of someone we love (which includes divorce), loss of a job, or change in our living situation (homelessness) are the most severe stressors we will experience in our lifetime.

Remember the agreement that had not yet been tested?

That first evening back in Denver, a cold winter evening, Rowan sat by the fireplace sipping bourbon-laced coffee. His Samoyed (yes, Rowan had a dog of his own) was sitting at his feet. Kathy sat next him as they nestled beneath an afghan comforter Kathy's mother had given them a few years earlier. Rowan was thinking it was so good to be home! Even though he was emotionally and physically exhausted he could think of nothing else but taking Kathy upstairs and snuggling up to her and making love to her until he could no longer think or move. At that moment he was just happy and relieved to be home, to feel Kathy next to him, to hear her soft breathing and a sort-of mewing sound she seemed to make when content.

He'd missed the way her smallish Lilly white breasts felt as they lightly settled on his chest. He'd missed the way she tasted, knowing she always seemed to enjoy pleasing him with her lips, tongue and mouth. He'd missed the way she felt as they made slow and passionate love, something they could do for hours at a time. But more importantly he'd missed her love.

"Rowan?" Rowan, broker of forgotten agreements, was not prepared for what Kathy now would tell him. After all, life with Kathy had been perfect, at least in his mind.

Kathy's head remained on his chest as they both listened to the crackle of the fireplace fire. Rowan would remember how he was beginning to relax and finally get warm. The image, to this day, will forever be etched into his psyche.

"Yes, Snow, what is it?" Snow was his nickname for Kathy, a name that seemed to stick as they were courting one another in college. When "going together", when the courted each other. That had been a time when it was often difficult to find places where they could explore their sexual cravings (William might have someone at their small brownstone apartment), where they could simply "give in" in the carnal world where nothing seemed to matter except fucking themselves crazy. One of those "memorable" moments, entered his bourbon-relaxed mind, was one cold winter evening when they took a sleeping bag outside and laid it in two feet of soft dry snow. Dropping their clothing into their day packs they crawled into the single sleeping bag.

They had laughed about how good it was to be "snow fucking" behind the college library. It wasn't long before "playing in the snow" became a way for them to communicate with each other that they wanted sex, wanted to make love. Their code words "playing in the snow" soon evolved into Rowan's nickname for the woman he loved. For Rowan, Snow would be the most powerful memory he would keep close to his heart, regardless of any agreement or death.

"I have something I need to tell you." He did not, at the time, recognize the change in the tome of her voice. Kathy, Snow, had become serious. After ten years the change in her tone of voice told Rowan to pay attention.

"Hummmm?" The Bourbon and warmth of the fire was doing a great job of helping him relax.

"Remember our agreement?" As she spoke the words Rowan wasn't sure which agreement she was talking about.

"Not sure what you are talking about. What agreement?" At that moment he really did not remember any particular agreement.

"The agreement we have about telling each other if we ever were with someone else." It finally dawned on him what she was talking about. At that moment the blood in his eyes constricted and his breathing nearly stopped.

They were both naked under the afghan and Rowan was acutely aware, more so at that moment, of how she felt as she continued to snuggle against him. He was also aware of how his body had suddenly become a tight bundle of muscles and nerves. She really didn't need to say anything else but part of the deal was to share who, when and what about the experience. Rowan was not prepared for this story. He did not want to hear what she was about to tell me. He was thinking he wanted to go back in time and cancel the agreement, "my agreement!" After all he was the sanctimonious twit who'd never thought Snow would be the one who would exercise the freedom to be with someone else. He'd always believed it would be he who exercised the freedom to fuck someone else.

"Oh, shit." His response wasn't diplomatic or loving. It was real. Rowan was beginning to immediately link the death of his father with Kathy, with his love for Kathy (Snow), as another death! He was not prepared for her honesty! In the space of his "shit" exclamation he effectively began the process of burying his marriage next to his Father!

The worst part, for Rowan, was yet to come.

"Guess you better tell me about it." He said recognizing the sound of his sadness slip into each syllable. After all, the agreement was to tell each other when something like that actually happened, to not hide anything from each other.

At that moment he was afraid he would not be able to deal with her story, but did not know that at the time. He wondered, for a moment, how all of the refugees he'd helped over the years had survived the loss of family and friends. How had they managed to survive such horrendous loss?

Kathy was also an honest person and would not hide anything from him. Rowan knew that the agreement, the deal He had brokered, would one day be discussed but he'd always thought he would be the one telling Kathy about his exploits.

"It was one of Carla's friends." Carla worked with Snow at the hospital. "She knows several airline pilots who were in town while you were gone. Carla invited me to join them a few nights ago and I did. At the time I was not thinking about hooking up with anyone but I think I was feeling lonely. I was missing you so much, and believed you would understand. So I accepted one of the pilots's invite to join him in his hotel room." Rowan was trapped in a situation that was all his doing and felt powerless to do anything but listen.

"His name?" He asked, knowing it didn't really matter what his name was.

"George. He was a United Airlines Captain." She was answering all of his questions without hesitation. After all that was the agreement, the deal Rowan had brokered. It was a deal he now regretted more than anything else he'd ever done in his life.

The odd thing, Rowan thought, was that he had never cheated on Snow. Had never exercised the freedom he'd asked for. He realized he might also be upset because Kathy had exercised the freedom to experience someone else before he did. Shit, it hurt and, at the time, he was becoming angry with himself!

"OK, then what happened?" He thought, at the time, he needed to hear the whole story.

"After dinner and sharing a bottle of wine we ended up in his room. After undressing me he went down on me, making love to me with his mouth and tongue." In his mind Rowan could see Snow's pubic hair, wonderfully full pubic hair, being parted by another man's fingers and his tongue and mouth consuming her. "He seemed to lick and kiss me to orgasm before entering me." He didn't need to hear a blow-by-blow (forgive the pun) description of everything they did. Rowan, as he listened to Kathy, was giving in to a grieving process he associated with the death of his father, Tran and now his marriage.

His father had died of old age. Tran died young of a disease that attacked his immune system. Rowan was the one murdering his marriage.

Not being able to think clearly, not wanting to accept responsibility for the situation, he remembered how he slowly, deliberately, withdrew his arms that had surrounded Snow, arms that he used to comfort her and, protect her. Protecting her was not what he'd done when he brokered the fucking agreement! At that moment Rowan could not protect himself!

Snow's response followed quickly. He now knew she'd been thinking about how he might react, knowing him better than he knew himself.

"Eric, do you want a separation?" Snow was asking Rowan as if he if he needed time and space to work through his hypocritical, yet real.

"Yes, I think that would be best." It was NOT the best thing to do. Rowan had acquiesced all too quickly. Rowan had relegated what she'd done, not to the realm of an agreement being tested, but to that world of death that needed to be grieved. Rowan could not separate the death of his father and Tran from his marriage. The only difference was there would be no eulogy.

Other than the business of discussing the separation of common property Rowan never spoke to Kathy again.

Rowan, years later, would recall how Kathy had slipped from beneath the afghan, her pale white skin, naked in the firelight, her long dark brown hair (that looked black in the dim light) and walk across the room disappearing upstairs. He would not remember anything about how he had managed to find an apartment and eventually move away from Denver. He would not remember anything about the divorce other than it was civilized (if divorce can ever be civilized). Rowan would not ever have a clear memory of what happened after Kathy told him about her airline pilot one-night stand. They did not argue or yell at each other. He only remembered he was gone by the following afternoon and never returned.

Snow remarried a couple of years later and went on to have three beautiful children with a man she loved as much as she loved her children. It was an ectopic pregnancy that they did not discover until it was too late that brought her life to an end. It was a pregnancy that would have brought a fourth child into this world that took her from this world so suddenly. What is especially sad was that Rowan never had the opportunity to tell her he never stopped loving her and his biggest regret was never having had the opportunity to tell her he was sorry.

He'd fucked-up the absolute best thing in his life then walked away. His life would always be full of regrets and remorse.

Rowan would also regret not listening to his friend's words as they made that drive from Denver to Boulder, Colorado. William had opened the door for Rowan to kick his foolish pride aside and accept responsibility for letting Kathy "go". William, the male slut, was nonetheless looking out for his friend.

William is now married, believe it or not, with two children. His "sluttish" ways have long since fallen by the way side, or at least so he says. Rowan (and William's wife) believed him.

Rufus died after a long dog-life of 14 years. William then found another Saint Bernard at the dog pound. Rufus II had been sorely abused by previous owners but quickly became Willie's slobbering friend. William will always be true to his dogs. Rowan will always be a sanctimonious twit who fucked up the best thing in his life.

End