Melissa and Roland Ch. 06

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It is what it is.
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2.33
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5

Part 6 of the 6 part series

Updated 10/09/2022
Created 08/05/2014
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Chapter 6: It Is What It Is - March 2012 to June 2012

Well the comments on Ch. 5, at least so far, make some sense. The main gist is that a lot of you just do not like the story. Fine by me and no comment needed by me. At least some of the critique however seems to miss a point I was clear about earlier - that the chapters will alternate between the present and the backstory. So of course each chapter is, and is intentionally, a 'non-sequitur' in relation to its predecessor. I find that format difficult but interesting and just wanted to try it. It does require more work on the part of the reader who is trying to keep things straight and make sense of things. If you choose not to want to do that work it's fine with me. Just know that that is what's happening.

As to the comments about racial stereotypes - duh! Of course they're in there. If they were the whole story or the biggest part of the story then that would be pretty unfortunate. However they clearly are not - the story, as almost everyone has figured out by now - is about Jeff and his reaction to events, and very little in that is about race in any way.

Nor do I particularly care how I am 'perceived'- as one commentator suggested. I mean A. it's all anonymous, B. it's all fiction, C. who cares anyway? If I was writing about war I might end up using some stereotypes there too - wouldn't make me a warmonger.

Enjoy!!

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So that's how it started. At least for me that's how it started. I suppose for Melissa it started the first time she spread her legs for Roland. Or maybe it started when she accepted his phone number. Or maybe when her brother decided to pimp her out to fuck up my life. It's hard to pinpoint these things.

I did my few meetings the next day. Then moved up the return flight to England to that evening. When I got back to the house to pack she was there, crying in the living room. I packed and left.

Once I got back to England and began working again there was, of necessity, some communication between us. She needed the combination to the garden shed lock. I needed to remind her to have the pool guy check our pump. She left a message to remind me of my parent's anniversary. And so forth.

About 2 weeks into my stay Melissa turned 24. It was March the 12th, a hard day for me. I was still more than mad enough to hope it was a hard day for her too. Somehow I still wanted to reach out with a card or call or even an email. Something. But I just couldn't find the words and in the end her birthday went unacknowledged. Unless you count my getting blind drunk that night as an acknowledgment. And I know it was.

Because it was impossible not to remember all the good parts too. The Melissa who had slept on the funeral home floor with me so I wouldn't be alone on the night of my father's wake. The one who held my hand for 2 straight days afterwards. Who surprised me with outrageously funny gifts when least expected. (Who else would have bought me a Pogo stick after breaking my foot on one of our hiking vacations?) The one who helped me find love for my sister even in her craziest manic episodes. The one had made love to me and who had loved me.

Three days later I wrote asking her to freeze all funds in our names till I could return. She agreed and a day later I received an email confirmation from the bank telling me it was done. Meanwhile I had contacted a couple of divorce attorneys to set up appointments after my return, and I recommended that she do the same.

As to the project in England it continued to go at least fairly well. But not as well as it had been going. We ended up facing some delays in the rollout that I had thought we would avoid. But I knew that things had changed for the project because they had changed for me. I knew that some of my former enthusiasm had waned, and that this had its effect on the morale of the team. Still it went off well enough for me to declare victory in mid-April and to announce the team's departure for a week later.

I tried to play the field a little over there in those weeks, to the amazement of my colleagues who had always and only heard about how great my wife and marriage were. I ended up twice sleeping with one of the British girls on the team, which was of course a big mistake. And I ended up sleeping with a bar slut one other time. An even bigger mistake.

All and all I was glad to think I was getting the hell out of England on April 23. Even if what waited for me at home seemed like a dead, dreary disaster.

I took a small apartment when I got home and started making my plans. But item 1 in the planning was to meet with Melissa to rough out how we would go about this. We'd been a team for so long and it seemed to me impossible that I would be able to plan the divorce without her. Or I just didn't want to do it without her.

So we met in a neutral location, a quiet restaurant we both liked, one that had relatively private booths. I thought my demeanor should be fair, calm, rational and a bit cold, almost professional. Cold but not angry, cause I knew that more angry outbursts were not going to change anything. And I had a job to get done. Let her know that this was over, that it was over no matter what she did now to dump the asshole, and that tears were not going to change that reality.

Then I saw her it all went out the window. You may not understand that and I don't care if you do. But that's what happened: out the window. She was almost too lovely to look at directly.

Seeing her then, well it made her cry and, for the first time, it made me cry too. Our poor waiter had to dodge our crying jags every time he wanted to check in.

She was so beautiful. Not just physically but in every way. Every part of the love and trust and respect and desire I had for her came crashing through as I sat there. And I swam hard against that current, hard against any weakness or forgiveness, as hard as I had ever done anything. And I knew that I was going to divorce her, at least I still thought that I knew that, but I also knew that I'd be divorcing the one woman I would ever in this life love so completely.

Still I held it together pretty well once the crying part was over.

We talked about divorce. About splitting things up. About each of us getting a lawyer. About our assets and our outstanding debt, which was thankfully not very great. And we both tried to be positive about it, or as positive as you could be in this situation. At the very least it did not seem that either of us would be facing an economic catastrophe. Just a personal catastrophe, although we weren't allowed to say that then.

Melissa mentioned couples counselling once but I could see that even she had no faith in the idea. It quickly switched to a talk about selling the house.

And all the while I was falling back in love. Or really no, not exactly. Because I had never fallen out of love with Melissa. What I was doing was falling out of the anger and depression and humiliation she, the only woman I could ever love, had subjected me to. You can fall out of those things too.

That she really had subjected me to it was beyond doubt. I knew it. She knew it. But I was shocked now by how the anger seemed to be melting away. Melting away even as I fought hard to hold on to it. I almost couldn't believe it and had to keep saying to myself over and over that it would return the next day or the day after. That the anger would stay forever inside me because she deserved it.

We ended the evening formally, with a handshake, and said we would have to keep in touch. And I went home and brooded for two straight days. These big firefights were going on in my head. And every one of them ended in a draw. All I got out of the brooding was a buzzing blaze of confusion and hurt.

After those 2 days I called her saying we needed another sit down to discuss some insurance policies we had. I just needed to be with her again to see if it was real - to see if I really was shedding the anger and distrust and meanness and hatefulness of the whole thing. To see if I could forgive her.

She agreed to meet back at the restaurant but said she only had an hour, that she had an appointment somewhere. And of course I didn't want to ask what that appointment might be.

I began our 2nd dinner with an apology for all the screaming and name calling I'd done. The reality was I'd felt terrible about all that almost right away, and felt even worse about it every day I was in England. Calling the woman I loved a "whore" and a "cunt" and all the rest may have been the worst thing I'd ever done in my life. So I could apologize pretty sincerely for that. And I did.

And she apologized for shocking me with her news and for hurting me and for sort of calling me a pussy. We both knew that I'd kind of forced her into that last one, but it did hurt nonetheless. And I did appreciate the apology.

At this point I was afraid of crying again so to stop the feeling I held her hand across the table. We smiled to one another then and just sat there holding hands.

Finally I had to pull out the insurance documents and made up a few questions about how we should handle them. They really were things we probably didn't need to discuss, or things which we could have handled in a 5 minute phone call, but it was all I had left of her.

We dragged that out as long as we could and Melissa still had 15 minutes before she had to go. So then we chatted about neutral stuff to kill the time. My mother's health. Her job. My job.

I blurted out without even intending it "And what about this guy Roland? You still with him?"

Her eyes went down to the table and her simple quiet "Yes" nearly killed me.

"Great. Just great. Happy for you." And the anger did seem fresh and sharp again.

Melissa said "Don't get nasty now. Please?" And I backed it off.

"If you...maybe it's crazy but...if you...if you could meet him you might understand."

"Meet him? You've gotta be kidding me. I meet him I'm going to kill him."

"I know it's stupid. I'm so sorry."

She looked at me with those big teary eyes. "Can you at least believe that? That I really am sorry? More sorry than I've ever been about anything?"

I looked away. I didn't answer. What difference did it make?

Then she got up to go. We said decent goodbyes and I went home to brood some more.

Our 3rd meeting happened a week after that. She called me this time and we took a walk along the river on a perfect Saturday afternoon. She had on the blue dress I had always loved and looked more beautiful than ever. I had decided it was up to me to be a man about this. So I took her hand and jumped right in.

"Do you think there's any way...any way we could try?"

Melissa seemed to brighten but remained cautious. "I mean...I don't know...I'd like to...try."

"About Roland."

"I know...I know...it's all so messed up! And it's all my fault."

She sniffled a bit and you know I finally believed her then. That she was sorry. Because maybe it had just happened to her. It wasn't like she was out hunting for men or sex or whatever. Or intending any of this. And no one knew better than me that when love hits you over the head you have little choice in the matter from there out.

"No. It's not that again. You mentioned meeting him. Would he? If I was willing?"

She brightened at that. "Yes, he would."

"How do you know?"

"Because it was his idea. He thinks the 2 of you should meet man to man and that the 3 of us should meet right afterwards."

"And he'll want...what? To keep you? To have you as his ...?" I didn't want to finish. I couldn't say it then.

She checked my eyes to see what I meant. She saw that it was a serious question, not a slap.

"Yes, but more. To have me. But for you to have me too. For us to be back together."

"All 3 of us then, right? One big happy family."

"Well I wouldn't put it that way."

"Just kidding." I was finding out that these sour jokes didn't help much.

I turned towards her and hugged her hard. My head was buzzing and I thought I might be sick. But I had to say it finally. "You're telling me that my choices are either you with him or no you at all?"

"I'm sorry Jeff. But yes. It just is..."

"What it is?" Her eyes popped sensing trouble. We both were remembering how that line had set me off the night of her confession. But now I was able to see it. She'd been right after all. She'd just said it too soon after nearly killing me. Nearly.

I went back then. "With him as your lover?"

"Yes."

"And me as your husband?"

"Yes."

"And me as your lover too?"

"Yes, of course."

"But you'd be his what? His ...? Under his control?"

"Yes."

"And you like that?"

"Yes...I mean...yes I think so."

I sensed a possibility then. "You think so?"

Her eyes welled up again. "I'm trying to be honest Jeff. I know I've made this all sound so cut and dried - like I'm sure of everything. Believe me I'm not. I'm not sure of anything." She looked at me searching to see if I could understand. Then shrugged and went on. "But I'm not stupid. This might be the biggest mistake of my life. And I am sure of one thing, which is that if it is a mistake then I want you there with me."

"What? Bail you out when he turns out to be a prick?"

She stopped, grabbed my arm and pulled me to look at her. Her eyes were deep and serious.

She was close to shouting then. "Yes, yes if it comes to that. Who else would ever - could ever - be there for me, be my hero and my savior? It's only you I want, at least for that. Don't you understand that? How I need you just as much? How I still love you even if you can't see it? How I need you now more than ever?"

"I..." Because how could I ever answer that question?

"And it's more. Cause I also want, no I need, you there if it turns out to be good, the way I think it will. Especially then, even more than if it's bad. If it's bad I will have been punished, and I will have deserved it. But if it's good then of course I want you there, want you more than ever to be there with me. Cause nothing can be completely good without you. I just want us to be us no matter what happens. Together."

For the first time I realized she really did want things that way - us together. And I remembered how proud we'd always both been of our ability to handle problems together, to face them and overcome them together.

I was almost afraid to speak after that, after she'd laid it out so directly. We held hands and walked quietly till she nodded towards a coffee shop we'd been in once before. Once I got my coffee and she her tea there was once more thing I had to ask.

"You're not afraid of it? Of him? Like he might hurt you? Even physically hurt you?"

"Oh. No Jeff. No. If you knew him you'd see. He never would do that. It's not who he is, not who he and I are together."

I paused to take it all in. Paused and brooded. And finally a man just decides. And I had, so I couldn't be a baby about it. The choice was clear but only cause I loved her so much. And because no matter what now I knew that she loved me too.

"And I'm a pussy?"

"Jeff I never really..." Then she looked into my eyes and saw me smile and knew that I could at least joke about it then. That she didn't have to try to argue the point again.

She giggled and decided to tweak me back. "Yes. A little bit of a pussy, but in a nice way, the nicest way ever."

After that we sat there staring at one another, then looking away, then coming back to lock eyes. We let our eyes do the work for us. We had too. It was beyond words.

And that's when I made the real decision. To try, and now I meant really try.

"So you know. What do you say to this? I know it's completely nuts but what do you say that we get this prick Roland to meet with this pussy Jeff?"

"But he's not a prick."

"OK. What do expect me to call him?"

"How about Roland?" Now she was being cute - like a pussy.

"Or maybe just 'the cock,' how's that?"

"Oh, Jeff. Don't..."

"You think cock Roland will meet with pussy Jeff?" And I smiled at her.

Now she got it and giggled, blew on her tea and giggled. Then she looked up at me.

"Cock meets pussy? What a novel idea."

Melissa stood and came to my side of the table and slid in next to me. She turned my face and kissed me on the mouth. Hard. And then soft. And then hard again with her tongue in my mouth. And she said "Hard cock meets soft wet pussy? I thought you'd never ask. Let's go home. And..."

"And what?"

"And, who knows? You might like it."

We went back to our house together then and made love. Soft and sweet. Melissa put on Stevie Wonder low in the background just as she had done for us so many times in the past. "My Cherie Amour" played as I fucked her. But like a pussy would I guess, whatever that means.

I didn't know whether to go down on her or not but she settled the issue by pushing my head under the covers. And it was dark and mysterious and spectacular. Those little noises she made, and some big ones too, were just as sweet as ever. She was spectacular.

Then we were up together. Too buzzed with excitement and possibilities to even think about sleeping. It was still only about 10 o'clock so she called Roland and asked if he would be willing to come over for dinner with the 2 of us the next day. From her smile I knew the answer was yes.

Then I got all playful like what did he look like? And what was he like? My rival and my brother is what I started calling him although she didn't seem to like it too much. After I attacked her with tickles, and threatened more of it, she broke down and showed me two photos of him. Ones she'd taken at a beach somewhere. She didn't offer but I reached in to scroll her phone forward and found the next one of him and her together, his big arm around her narrow waist. Some tourist had taken it for them. She had on a tropical print bikini I hadn't seen before. Then she grabbed the phone back.

"Isn't She Lovely" played while we fooled around.

I asked where they had been and it turned out they'd spent a week together in Puerto Rico while I was in England. And it hit me in the stomach. But then I was feeling kind of high, almost like when she and I had smoked our weed in the old days. Because the emotion of loving her was running so high and fast in me. It all seemed possible suddenly and miraculously.

And I couldn't stop asking. Like did he fuck her a lot down there and she said "Shhssssssshhh you!" and did she buy some sexy suits and underwear for the trip and she smiled wickedly which told me the answer and did she like blowing him and how big was his cock anyway and she again went back to "Shhssssssh."

So turnabout was fair play and she asked did I step out at all in England and I had to tell her about the Brit-twit sucking my cock and told her about going down on the bar slut girl when I was so drunk I could barely keep my head up between her pudgy thighs. And how I didn't much care for the flavor of British seafood which made her punch my arm.

And then Melissa said "Let's get high! This is so fun." And brought out some weed that Roland had given her and it was in the side table drawer which mostly, not entirely but mostly, confirmed my idea that he had fucked her right here in my bed. But suddenly I got shy I guess and didn't want to ask.

But we shared a joint. Then drank some wine. Melissa sucked my cock then. We shared another joint and we were both officially wrecked.

So I got back my courage or my stupidity or both and started asking again about that vacation in Puerto Rico. At first just things about what sorts of touristy things they did, but ending with what was the wildest thing he had made her do for him down there? And she was giggling and drinking her wine then and I saw a spot of my cum drying on her chin and leaned in to her to lick it clean which made her howl with joy. Stevie was singing "Too High." I loved her so much then.

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