Tunnel of Love Pt. 03

But no. I wanted to be with Mikey. For comfort, or protection—or maybe both.

Had the whole idea of bringing Mikey to Collette's house really been for Mikey's sake, for Bobby's, for Collette's? Had cooking dinner really had been for their sake, or his own, in an innocent way? Had sticking around, doing the dishes, really just been part of his old "aw-shucks," boy scout ways?

Maybe. Probably. But the joking, the charming, the touching...definitely not.

No, those had been moves. The moves of someone playing a game.

The moves...of a player. And I was going to win, too. I had her. My god, I had her, and I wanted it. Badly.

Never, in his life, had Mike seduced a woman. He'd never had the skill, he'd thought, or the opportunity. Or perhaps it was something else...he'd just never had the guts.

He'd had girlfriends before Jennifer, and intimate experiences—but they'd been sweet, mutual, or sometimes just awkward. If anything, he'd been the seduced one—not the seducer. Making moves, fondling a girl—much less, fucking her—just because he could...it hadn't been his nature.

And he hated players. He hated how he'd play fair but lose to them, over and over again, and to what end? So some girl could feel used, abandoned, betrayed the next day, or the next week, but always eventually...

Maybe that's the player's secret. Maybe it's not about being better looking, smoother, whatever...not entirely. Maybe you just have to want it more than the other guy and be willing to do anything to get it.

He thought of a professional football player.

He knows he's going to feel bruised and battered the day after the game. And he knows, deep down, that someday the games are going to end. Then, he's going to have bad knees, maybe brain damage from all the concussions...

But he doesn't care about his future, or anyone else's. Right there, in that moment, he wants to win. He goes for that touchdown, and damn the costs. If he breaks his jaw, or someone else's...so be it.

Last night, Mike had wanted it. He'd wanted to seduce Collette Davis. He'd known that she was vulnerable. He'd known that she had a crush on him. She was beautiful and sweet.

And I was drunk. Drunk on the feeling of being wanted, being loved, and being able to take advantage of it. Drunk with a power I'd never had, or at least, never known I had.

He'd been so close to kissing Collette. The video, of all things, had come to him—James Coltez, that ultimate player, taking Jennifer. Well, Mike thought, Coltez could have her; Mike could take a woman too. Hell, maybe he could have a beer with Coltez someday and joke about it. "Stupid sluts, can't keep their legs together!" It was all just a game, wasn't it?

Then, with Collette trembling under him, Mike had hesitated. To become Coltez...to be a player...is that what he wanted? Of course not!

On the other hand...his blood was up, his dick was hard, and Collette's heaving breasts weren't getting any smaller. Collette had invited him over. She was an adult. He wanted her, and if she wanted him...what was so wrong about that?

If she'd put the slightest move on him, it would have been over. Thoughts of Jennifer, the future, morality, anything...they would have disappeared. But while he'd hesitated, Collette hadn't moved. In those extra seconds, the tide had turned.

I realized then that I couldn't play her. I couldn't do to her what Coltez did to Jennifer. Even if Jennifer had pretty much invited it...even though Collette had invited it. Collette's just started to get her self-esteem back; she deserves better than to be treated like a slut again. And I need to keep what's left of my self-esteem and be true to who I am.

There was something else, too. Once the erotic spell was broken, Mike realized that Collette was just...Collette. Whatever might develop in time, at the moment, he was not in love with her. He knew the difference because...

Because against all odds, I still felt something for Jennifer. I still do. Maybe I shouldn't, but pretending those feelings don't exist won't help. For better or worse, I have to face them, work them out one way or another; not project them onto another woman. Or expect her to wave some magic wand and dispel them.

It had surprised Mike when Collette had taken his hand. There was no doubt where she was taking it, and had it happened a minute sooner, it would have worked. But in that minute, Mike had already made his decision. For better or worse, he would remain the "fucking boy scout."

"I'm sorry, Collette," he'd said, breaking away from her. "I shouldn't do this. I shouldn't even be here, probably."

Mike had waited for Collette to turn around. He'd waited to see her face, ready for hurt and anger. Hastily, he'd begun preparing another apology, one that would assure her that it was him, not her...whatever it was that players said when they dumped a girl.

My god, how did it come to this?

But when Collette looked up at him, all Mike saw was relief. There were tears, but they framed a smile. Collette raised her hands, bowed Mike's head, and kissed him on the forehead. For a while, they just stood there, quietly weeping.

"The couch is pretty comfortable," she eventually whispered. "I slept there more than a few times, when I couldn't stand to be with Richard anymore...or when he couldn't stand to be with me. I'll get you a pillow and some blankets."

* * *

It had been a bit of a risk, but Collette had gotten up very early, snuck out of the house while Bobby and her guests had slept, and picked up some groceries. She'd made a pretty good breakfast—though there wasn't much left of it. Bobby and Mikey had seen to that. Now they were out in the yard, playing.

"I thought you boy scouts were early risers," she said to Mike as he entered the kitchen.

"Not as early as my little cub scout out there and his buddy, I guess," Mike answered. "You know, Collette...you should think about having Bobby come to a den meeting sometime. Maybe he'd like to join."

Collette smiled again.

Could this man get any more precious?

But there was something different about him this morning. There was something different about how she felt about him, too. The fondness was still there—more than ever, maybe—but not the fever. The fever had broken, in her sleep; or perhaps earlier, while she'd sipped coffee in the kitchen with Jennifer.

"Here you go," she said, handing Mike a plate of food. She made herself a plate and sat down with him.

"Collette, about last night—"

Placing a finger on her lips, Collette silenced him.

"Mike, I haven't made a full breakfast in a long time. You better eat this before it gets cold, or I'm going to be pissed."

They ate quietly. When they finished, Collette straightened in her chair, then looked Mike squarely in the eyes.

"Okay, about last night. Thank you for...stopping...when you did. I held out for just a minute, but then I lost it and had you continued..."

Her voice trailing off, Collette looked down at her plate, hoping once again that the flush on her fair skin would not be too noticeable. Mike cleared his throat.

"Thank you, Collette... Thank you for that minute. It was enough. I hope you don't think that you're not...that I wouldn't want—"

"No Mike, I don't. And I'm flattered, absolutely. But I think we both would have regretted it."

"Yeah," Mike said, sighing. Looking at Collette, he recalled a lyric. Springsteen—it was always Springsteen these days, and always the same album:

There's a girl across the bar
I get the message she's sending
She ain't looking too married
Me, well honey I'm pretending

Mike was done with pretending. While sleeping, he'd dreamed of Jennifer. Not a nightmare again; far from it. He'd dreamed of holding her in his arms, dancing to music while the evening sky darkened.

That dream, he realized now, was from the song, and he thought he knew what it meant. Jennifer was still in his system. He didn't know what to do about it, except that another woman wasn't the answer. Not yet, at least; maybe not for a long time; maybe not ever.

"So," Mike said wearily, "I should get Mikey home. It's not going to be pleasant when Jennifer finds out where he spent the night. Where I spent the night, too."

"I wouldn't worry about that Mike, for two reasons."

Mike looked on, confused.

"First, because Jennifer already knows. She was here, Mike, last night...after you were asleep."

The confusion on Mike's face turned to panic. He started to rise.

"It's okay, Mike, we talked and...she knows nothing happened. She knows that something almost happened, I was candid about that. But I told her that I struck out."

Mike managed a little laugh.

"Second," Collette continued, "Mikey's not going anywhere. He's staying here for another night."

"Collette," Mike objected, shaking his head, "we can't impose on you again. Besides, Jennifer didn't say she needed me to take care of Mikey for another night. It was just last night."

"Well, that's changed, Mike. She made a phone call while she was here. She has somewhere to be tonight, now—and so do you. So I'm taking Mikey, and that's all there is to it. In fact, I've already told him and Bobby, and they're ecstatic. You are not going to make me have to disappoint them."

Mike shook his head again. "Fine, Mikey can stay but I'm not going ho—to her house, tonight, if that's what the two of you are trying to arrange."

"No, Mike, but you are going to meet her somewhere else. On neutral ground."

"Why would I do that?" Mike asked, sadness and bitterness mixing with intrigue.

"Three words...she thought they would make a difference, if I repeated them to you."

"Yeah, 'I love you.' Heard it before."

"No, Mike—though if you hear those words, you should listen! Now I don't understand it, but here's why you're going. Here's what she said.

"She said, 'Seeing is believing.'"

* * *

That night, Dr. Gayle Seymour stood in the lobby of the building where she maintained her office...at least for now. She wasn't sure she was going to continue her practice. She wasn't sure of anything in her life, really, except that when she'd gotten Jennifer's call late the previous night, she'd had to say yes.

The building was empty, as one might expect on a Saturday evening. The watchman at the small security desk was her only companion so far. Gayle peered through the glass doors into the cold darkness outside.

A car approached. Gayle followed its headlights as the driver parked. When the driver emerged, Gayle saw that it was Jennifer.

Gayle motioned to the watchman. He hit a switch, unlocking the doors. Jennifer stepped inside.

"Hello, Doctor, thank you for agreeing to see me under such...unusual circumstances."

I would have met you on the Moon, Jennifer. I should have quit this long ago, and I'm not sure I can take it anymore...but I have to know how it ends.

They waited in silence. They waited...and waited. Then, just as Jennifer's—and Gayle's—hopes were fading, a pair of headlights appeared.

The vehicle drove past the front doors of the building...and kept going. The two women's hearts sank. But then, the vehicle doubled back. It turned into the parking area—and stopped.

The door of the car opened. One foot, then a second, appeared underneath. The door closed...

And there stood Mike. He paused for a moment, then stepped towards the building. His face was grim, but his stride was determined. Gayle found herself singing along, in her mind, to his footsteps.

Well so much has happened to me
That I don't understand....
Now I'll do what I can
I'll walk like a man

Yes, Mike, that thing about a "brilliant disguise" that Jennifer told me you said to her—I remembered it, after I saw the video, and I finally looked it up. I know the song now, the album, the artist. And as a result, I think I know you, Mike—better than I ever did before.

Gayle looked at Jennifer. Jennifer looked at Gayle, then reached into her purse and withdrew something. A silver disc in a thin, semi-opaque sleeve. They stared at it, together, not knowing what to say.

"Seeing is believing?" asked Mike, suddenly standing next to them.

Gayle watched as Jennifer's and Mike's eyes met. To anyone else, the subtle, rapid changes of expression on their faces might have gone unnoticed. To Gayle, however, they revealed worlds.

They fear what's on that disc, yet here they both are. He fears more lies, more horrors, yet here he is. She fears...that it won't be enough? Or something else? Yet here she is...

"Let's go upstairs," Gayle said.

As they rode the elevator, Gayle studied the couple.

He's tight, vigilant. She's resigned, trapped, like when an accused in custody is brought under guard, by secure elevator, to the courtroom. Brought up...to be put on trial.

The elevator opened. Gayle, then Jennifer, then Mike filed out. They walked down the hall to Gayle's office.

The trial hasn't even started, but she's already condemned, isn't she? By herself, from the looks of it. But maybe we're all condemned. This is his trial, as much as hers...

And it's mine, too.

Gayle unlocked the door, turned on the lights, and held the door open while Mike and Jennifer entered the waiting room. Closing the door behind them, Gayle crossed the room, opened the door to her office, and beckoned them inside.

Strange; the chairs are turned away from my desk, towards the monitor. I don't remember leaving them that way. Maybe the cleaning people...?

Mike and Jennifer sat down. Gayle turned on the monitor and the DVD player. She stepped towards Jennifer and extended her hand. Jennifer offered up the disc.

"Are you going to watch with us?" Jennifer asked Gayle.

The answer was a foregone conclusion, but still, it was a long time coming.

"Yes, I will watch...if I have your permission."

Jennifer nodded. She and Gayle turned to Mike.

"Mike," Gayle asked, "do you want me to stay or wait outside?"

"Might as well stay," Mike replied flatly.

Gayle took the disc, placed in the tray, and sat down behind her desk. Remote control in hand, she pressed a button. The tray retracted into the machine.

In the dead silence of the empty office building, the whoosh of the disc, spinning up to speed, sounded like a loud rush of wind.

It gave all of them a chill.