Another Love: Lost

Everyone seemed to know who I was; everyone told me how wonderful Karen was, and how lucky I was to have her. I felt like I had landed in some kind of reality show, and I was the only one who hadn't seen the script. I caught a glimpse of Karen and Avril on the far side of the room, talking together. They saw me looking and smiled, trying their best to look innocent and failing. They reminded me of Aggie, my cat, when she's toying with a mouse.

Finally, I ended up next to the love seat where the two grandmothers held court. Amie and Sara-Marie were both about ninety, I judged, but their faces were full of life. Sara-Marie, especially, had a presence about her: when she was in the room, you knew she was there.

Both women had obviously been primed with information about me. Not all of it was accurate, but it was close enough to hold me in conversation. Clearly, that was their job, and I didn't mind because they were both interesting and fun to talk with. Still, I was tired after another long, frustrating day at work, and the noise began to get to me. I made my excuses, and headed for the second-floor bedroom. They were good, the old grand-mères were, but not quite quick enough that I missed the look they exchanged that told me the script was working so far. It's funny what you can see, once you stop taking everything at face value.

The bed was neatly made, and there was a little night table with drawers holding my necessaries. The closet held a few of Karen's clothes, and quite a lot of Avril's: I guessed Avril must use this room most times, while Karen used the master bedroom. I looked around for the other bed, or futon, or whatever. There wasn't one.

"Too short of beds," eh? Well, they might well be that, but the shortage in this particular room was part of a deliberate plan. Show me the Hallmark happy-family movie, and don't give me a chance to object to the arrangements. Then offer me a threesome with two beautiful women: what red-blooded male could turn that down? I could have all of this, if only I'd accept that my wife's twenty years of lying and cheating was a good thing. After all, I couldn't very well complain about his having taken my wife after I'd fucked his, now could I? They'd even been considerate enough not to stage it in the master bedroom. Since seeing the infamous painting, I never wanted to enter that room again.

I supposed Avril and Karen were on their way here, or soon would be after the old ladies gave them the high sign, so I left. As I walked up the hill, I turned to look back at the house. The lower floor was ablaze with light, and many of the upper windows were aglow, as it hosted a party unlike any it had seen in decades. If only it weren't someone else's party.

I awoke in a cold sweat after yet another nightmare. Suddenly, the solution for the engine popped into my head. I knew what the problem was with absolute certainty. It would require a redesign of much of the engine, but I knew it would work.

I hustled to the old field house, even though it was only 5:30 am. Lisa had the team assembled by 7:00. I explained the concept. The team realized at once that we had our solution, and set to work enthusiastically. We were all totally immersed in the project until I noticed Lisa begin to yawn. She never did that. I looked around, and some of the other engineers were starting to show the strain, too.

"What time is it?"

"Eleven thirty," Lisa responded wearily.

"Impossible," I remarked. "It must be after noon, surely."

"Eleven thirty, pm," she explained.

Oh. The next day was Saturday, so I thanked them, banned them from the building until noon and sent them home. As I locked the building, I remembered that Karen had expected me for dinner. Oops. I hustled down the hill.

Avril was waiting for me on the back step. "You are very late. Karen gave up on you; she went to bed shedding tears that you would not return."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry anyone. We were all lost in our work."

Avril clearly didn't believe me. "What is it going to take for you to forgive her?"

"Forgive her for what? She doesn't think she did anything wrong. But that isn't why I'm late. We started work today on a new idea for the engine, and the young folks are excited. They would have worked all night if I had let them."

I could see Avril still didn't believe me.

"Let's go upstairs. I need to apologize to Karen in person for missing dinner." I didn't miss the catlike glint of triumph in Avril's eyes; it showed even in the dark. Nor did I miss the extra sway of those fine hips, displayed to perfection by yet another pair of painted-on jeans. Yes, I told myself, I had been right about the planned threesome. That didn't mean I was confident that I would escape. Knowledge isn't that much power.

Karen was wearing a black satin negligee that had been one of my favorites. It did amazing things for an amazing body. She was my wife, beautiful and wanting me; confident that I wanted her. She turned to Avril, and they kissed. It was a lover's kiss, sensuous and deep. They broke the kiss. Karen began to undress Avril, stripping her shirt off over her head, exposing her lacy little white bra. I'm sure my mouth was hanging open. I felt numb, except for my cock, which was rising rapidly to the occasion. Karen looked at me again, posing confidently in her sexy negligee. I wondered if he had seen her in it; helped her out of it. The thought was like a cold shower.

The women saw my thought on my face; their confident expressions faded to concern. "Karen, I just wanted to apologize for not making dinner. I'm sorry, I should have called and let you know; we were working on a new idea for the engine, and literally lost track of time. I'm sorry, I'll come back in the morning. Good night, Karen; sleep well." I didn't attempt to disguise the fact that I was running away.

It was just after eight the next morning when I let myself in the back door. Following my nose, I found that someone had made enough breakfast to feed an army. I helped myself to part of a huge, fine-looking omelet, and sat at the kitchen table. I was immediately joined by Madame Sara-Marie Pascale Du Monte, who popped into the room as if she'd been posted nearby to wait for me.

"Sleep well?" She asked with a hint of a smile.

"Yes. Why shouldn't I?" She regarded me speculatively.

"So, are you still hurting, or did the women heal your wound?"

I just looked at her. She smiled broadly.

"Do not pretend. I know my daughter-in-law's cry of pleasure very well, and have heard your wife's also, many, many times. We did not expect to see you so early."

"You misunderstand," I smiled. "I slept in my apartment on campus last night."

Sara-Marie gazed at me, as if deciding whether or not to believe me.

"I think you run from your problem," she finally said.

"Which one?" I could think of several.

"My son took your woman. Made her his lover and you a cuckold. Made your good wife to sin, out of her absolute love for him." It might have been refreshing to hear someone else finally admit the truth of the matter, if she hadn't sounded so proud of it.

"Now he is gone, and she has paid for her sin many times over with guilt. So now the problem is yours. Karen loves you, and needs you more than she ever has. You must leave your pride, with her sin, in the past, and love again your beautiful wife."

Aimi came in with the coffee pot and sat down with us.

"We were discussing Robert's problem," Sara-Marie told her.

"Ah," Aimi said, reaching across and covering my hand with hers. "I am so sorry. But they are good women, and will take care of you."

"Yes," Sara-Marie agreed. "He would be foolish to throw away what he has."

I deliberately placed my knife and fork on my plate and took a deep breath. I looked Sara-Marie in the eye.

"You said Karen has paid for her sin in guilt. You're wrong: she doesn't think it was sin, and she doesn't feel any guilt. She told me so herself. You said he took her, and she loves him absolutely, and about that, you're right. Now you're telling me that I should be content with whatever scraps of her he chose to leave for me. Well, what wasn't good enough for him, isn't good enough for me."

I stood. "Thank you for breakfast." I walked out. I would have taken my plate with me if I could have figured out a dignified way to do it. That was a good omelet, and I hated to leave it there.

I smiled as I walked up the hill, remembering the look on Sara-Marie's face. She was very used to getting her own way, that one. Aimi had just looked sad. I didn't know whether she was less of a grande dame, or just less adept at English conversation.

I arrived at the old field house about 9:30, and was not surprised to see about half my team waiting at the door. "What part of 'after noon' did you not understand?" I groused at them. They just grinned, except for one wag who pointed out that I was there, too. I unlocked the door, texted Karen that I'd be at the house after dinner, and we got to work. The atmosphere in the lab was electric with the feeling that we were finally on the right track, and making progress. It was 7:30 before we knew it. I kicked them all out, and told them the lab would be closed on Sunday; if they came up with brilliant ideas, they were to document them and bring them Monday morning. I walked down the hill, wondering what kind of ambush lay in wait for me this time.

Karen and Avril were avoiding me again; the family was clearly instructed to keep us apart. Sara-Marie favored me with a haughty stare, before ignoring me for the rest of the evening. Aimi simply touched my arm, looked me in the eye, and said, "Truly, I am sorry." I wondered if she really meant it. It probably didn't matter.

Oscar and Mark drew my attention from the far side of the room. There was something in the way they acted toward each other, something that reminded me of someone. I thought hard. Lisa? Really? Hmmm... Oh. That's it. That's probably why Karen didn't say much about Oscar, even while she was visiting him. What did she think, I'd disown him? Even if I did, what difference would that make to him?

It took me a while to fight my way through the interference, but I finally cornered Oscar and Mark against the wall by the fireplace. I introduced myself to Mark, and we made small talk for a while. Oscar was even more distant than usual, but Mark seemed comfortable after a few minutes, so I popped my question.

"So, Mark, is this where I ask your intentions in regard to my son?" Oscar was aghast; Mark puzzled for a second or two, then broke into laughter. I smiled. Oscar wanted to know what we thought was so funny.

"Oscar, I think your Dad has just told us he knows we're gay, and he's okay with it. Am I right?" I nodded. Mark held out his hand to me.

"Rob, after Karen warned me about you, I'm surprised to be saying this, but it's a pleasure to meet you. We'll be sure to invite you to the wedding." We chuckled and shook hands. Oscar was clearly wondering who I was and what I had done with his dad, but shook hands anyway.

I'd had enough social time, and I could count one solid accomplishment, without even the aid of a guide dog, so I headed for the second floor bedroom to get out of the crush. I still had no intention of sleeping with Karen, let alone Avril, but until they showed up, I thought maybe I could have some time to myself. They wouldn't think of going to bed this early on a Saturday night, would they? I guess I had to prove I was still naïve, gullible Rob.

The low light in the room, the long day at work, and the muted buzz from downstairs conspired against me, and soon I was half-dozing in the chair. As if I was dreaming, I felt a weight come softly to rest in my lap; then there were gentle hands in my hair, and soft lips on mine. A small, pointed tongue parted my lips, entered. My cock swelled in my jeans; the weight on my legs moved to meet it. The kiss went on, gained intensity, as the body in my lap touched the tip of my cock, began to slowly rock back and forth, teasing it. I raised my hands toward that weight, but my wrists were gently but firmly pulled down to the sides of the chair. Warm hands stroked my arms.

"Shhh..." a voice whispered in my ear. "Let us love you. Let us show you how much we love you. Let us love away the pain and the hurt."

The voice was Karen's. My eyes snapped open. The light had been turned off; the room was dark except for the moonlight shining through the window. This was no dream. The woman in my lap leaned into my chest. Avril. I could feel her firm little breasts press into me as the kiss continued. She ground her crotch into mine as she straddled me.

She finally broke the kiss, caressing my face with both hands and rubbing her breasts on my chest. My eyes had grown used to the dark, and I could see her beautiful smile. Karen held my hands lightly at the sides of the chair, caressing them softly.

"Don't fight it, Rob. Tonight's just for you, from both of us, and we want to make you very happy. Just relax. No one will harm you. Just enjoy."

I turned to look at my wife. She was smiling at me, with innocence in her face and sensuality in her eyes. Just as she looked in the picture. Just as she'd looked at him. I sagged in the chair. Avril's brilliant smile faded, her expression became concerned as she felt my erection wilt beneath her.

"Do not think that way, Rob. Do not live in the past. We are here for you tonight, are we not? Please, let us help you." Avril was pleading with me, her hands holding my face, her gaze imploring. I closed my eyes to keep the tears from falling. They fell anyway; she gently wiped my cheek with the hem of her shirt. "I am sorry," she said. She sounded ready to cry.

"Rob, will it always be like this?" Karen was kneeling by the chair, tears in her eyes and her voice. She released my wrists.

"I don't know." My heart went out to her, but I had no comfort to offer her, nor to take for myself. I gently eased Avril off my lap, and stood up.

"I'm... I'm sorry. Good night," I said. I couldn't trust my voice for any more words.

"Bon soir."

"Good night, Rob. I love you."

They had a point, I had to admit as I trudged up the hill and entered my apartment, they and the old women both. The man was dead; the affair was in the past. I hurt from it and would for a long time to come, but nothing could undo it. I knew the hurt would eventually fade; why couldn't I at least try to move on? There were two reasons, I realized. Karen was sorry I was hurting, but wasn't sorry about the affair: instead, she insisted she had done nothing wrong. I didn't know whether I could ever accept that. Then too, while Karen still held her lover in her heart, and loved him absolutely, that brought their affair into the present. If she wouldn't leave him in the past, how could I?

I came down the hill for breakfast early Sunday morning. It was just as good as Saturday's; even better, because I enjoyed it in solitary peace. The grand-mères wanted nothing to do with me that morning. When I finished, I decided to go for a walk. I was almost out the door when I heard a soft female voice behind me.

"Good morning, Rob! Headed out for work, on a Sunday?" It was Simone; little Georgette was in a front-carrier, half asleep.

"No, I'm just going for a walk."

"Could Georges and I join you? We've been hoping for a walk in your beautiful woods, but we were afraid we'd get lost." I had nothing better to do anyway, and that smile was hard to resist. Was it a legacy from her father?

Georges appeared and introduced himself. "We met the other night, but that was such a madhouse, you can't be expected to remember names." I thanked him for his thoughtfulness, and we set out. It was another beautiful fall morning on the Hudson, and New Yorker that I am, I'll say there's nothing better anywhere. We talked comfortably; Georgette woke up and contributed happy-baby noises.

"How old is she?" I asked.

"Six months," both parents responded together, and we all laughed.

Eventually Georgette needed to nurse, so we found a secluded place to sit. Simone looked at me seriously.

"Rob, there's something we need to talk about, and I don't know how to begin." I sighed resignedly; it looked like I was never going to be far away from Topic Number One.

"I'm sorry, I know you're sick of hearing about it, and having us all here isn't helping any. By the way, thank you for letting us use your apartment. It's just perfect for us, and the kids love it."

"Aren't you a little cramped?" I asked. I knew they had five children: two girls from Georges' first marriage, and two boys and Georgette together.

"Maybe a little," Georges said, "but it's so much better than a hotel. We really do appreciate it. We'll make sure it's put back properly when we leave."

I thanked him; it didn't seem like the time to point out that I didn't live there just then. They gushed some more about the house, then Simone returned to her topic.

"I was almost thirteen when I first met Aunt Karen, and Kevin and Oscar. Mama told us that they were staying with us because you had left them for a while. When they went back to Albany and Papa left too, I asked Mama if he and Aunt Karen were having an affair. She said they were, and they loved each other very much. I asked about you, and she said you knew about it and were fine with it, just as she was. She went on about how loving and right it all was.

"Even though I was only thirteen, I wasn't sure I bought that, and I worried about you. Then this summer, Aunt Karen came to Papa's funeral, but you didn't, and I figured it out. You didn't know, did you?"

"No, I didn't."

"When did you find out?"

"Just after your father's funeral, when your mother brought that painting he did of Karen."

"Oh, no! That's awful! That's how you found out? Oh, you poor man."

I shrugged. "I trusted her." Simone bowed her head and put her hand on my arm gently, consolingly. Then she gathered her courage and went on.

"I loved my Papa. I still do. In some ways, he was a great man. In others, though... Well. You probably know Aunt Karen was far from his first, nor was she his last. Conquest came easily to him, and he saw no reason not to take whatever, or whoever, he wanted. I think he did come to care for Aunt Karen, perhaps even love her in his way. He never mentioned you. Aunt Karen did sometimes, and always with love and respect, but as I grew older I could see clearly that at least when she was with us, she was my father's woman, just as much as my mother was.

"You see, my Georges was betrayed, too, though not for as long as you were." She gave him a tender look, and they clasped hands. "When I began to fall in love with him, I could feel the terrible wounds that she left in his heart, so I know the pain that infidelity causes. The wounds are mostly healed, but the scars are still there and always will be. I can feel them when I love him. That is why I will never do anything like that to him. I will never betray him. I could never hurt him like that." Simone smiled lovingly at her husband, then sat up straighter and turned to me.

"That is also why I must apologize to you for what my father did. It was completely wrong, and nothing can justify it or make it right. Rob, I am very sorry." She clearly meant it from her heart.

"Thank you, Simone. I know it's a cliché, but you'll truly never know how much that means to me." I was so surprised and moved, I could barely get the words out.

Simone flashed me a small smile. "Especially when all the rest of my family is beating on you to make you reconcile with Aunt Karen."

"Yeah," I agreed.

"I do think, Rob, that you need to forgive them both." Simone felt me stiffen, and hurried on. "Not for their sake. For yours, so you can move on. Whether you forgive him matters nothing to my father, and it may not mean much to Aunt Karen, but I think it matters quite a lot to you."