c8

"Huh," he roused. "Huh?"
"Joe, I'm going out for a while. Jason's in bed asleep. You're in charge."
"Huh? Where you going, babe?"
"I'm going out for a glass of wine," she said.
"Oh? With the girls?"
"Yeah," she said. "With the girls."
He stroked her arm a little bit; he smiled through his stubble. "You gonna be home kind of early? Because it's been a while…"
"Sure," she said, showing him a fake smile. "You just shower and shave and I'll see you a little later."
"It's a deal. I'll have it up for you," he said. "I mean, I'll be waiting up for you."
"Sure," she said.
Marty drove around for about a half hour, then she pulled into a strip mall parking lot and called Ryan from her cell phone. "Hi," she said. "Did I wake you?"
"Course not. What's up?"
"I'm out," she said. "I had to get out of the house for a while. Want to meet for a drink?"
"Sure," he said, and she could hear him stifle a yawn. "Tell me where and when."
"How about the Red Lion Inn? I can meet you in the bar…."
"Gimme a little time," he said. "I was just watching the game."
"And you'd leave the game?" she asked, smiling to herself.
"You're damn straight. See you in about a half hour."
That gave her way too much time to think about what she was doing. She got to the Red Lion quickly, found a place at the end of a long bar in the shadows and asked for a glass of wine. There was no way she could rationalize this into something that was okay. It was dead wrong; she shouldn't be seeing Ryan, even for a drink, even for a talk.
But the right thing to do was even worse. She should tell Joe she was through, that she just couldn't envision her life like this for another fifty years. It was going to get a lot worse before it got better. If she thought another few years would set them right, put them back in touch with each other, she'd gut it out, keep trying. But the opposite was going to happen. He was going to get worse and she was going to get meaner, and older. If this had to be done, she had to do it now, before she was well into her thirties or forties, bitter, angry and exhausted.
This was the one thing she never thought she'd do—step out on her husband. After all the times it had been done to her, knowing the hurt and feelings of helplessness, she was meeting the same man who had cheated on her so many times! It was sheer lunacy.
Before it was too late, she asked herself, Can't I live with most of it? There was a list in her mind that she'd been over many times, and she considered it again. She could give up going out for an evening that was meant for them as a couple and not a sporting event. She didn't mind that Joe wasn't a good dancer; she sure liked to dance, but she could get by without that. She could get used to the RV and there were things about boating that could be fun. It would be okay to never have a reason to dress up again. The domestic stuff… Maybe if he'd just pick up after himself a little bit, a tiny bit, she could handle the rest—all the cooking, cleaning, shopping, laundry. Because there were good things about Joe. For one thing, he loved her completely, would never look at another woman, and they looked at him plenty. He was an involved father, a good provider. She could deal with the stubble, but he had to be clean. Okay, if there was one day a week that he let it all go to hell—wore the worst old shorts or sweats in the house and reeked like an outhouse with B.O. —one day a week, she thought, I could do that. I just need to feel more valuable than the ball game once in a while, just important enough for a shower.
Because this was wrong, so wrong…
And then she saw Ryan walk in and everything inside her seemed to swell. Look at him, she thought, a smile coming to her lips. He was home in front of the same game her husband was watching, yet he walked in wearing a crisp shirt, tailored pants, clean shaven, his light brown hair groomed, that dimpled grin sparkling. He wasn't even married or living with a woman, yet he was put together. Neat and tidy. He saw her, walked right over to her, slipped an arm around her and kissed her temple. "You look so hot," he whispered, sitting down next to her. "What's going on?"
"I needed to get out," she said with a smile and a shrug.
"Trouble at home?"
"Nah. I just didn't have anyone to call—the girls are all tied up," she lied. "And you know what I thought would be really fun? I haven't danced in years. Literally years."
"I could spin you around a little bit. Then you have to tell me what's wrong," he said. "Because I don't want get in the middle of anything complicated. You know?"
"Aw, don't worry about it. Everything's fine."
"You cool with this?" he asked.
"This?"
"Me and you? Just getting together?"
"Sure. Why not?"
"Then grab your wine and let's go downstairs where there's music. How about that?"
"I'd really like that," she said, grinning stupidly.
He held her hand while they went down the spiral stairs to the nightclub, the dance floor, and it was like a date. I'm going to do this one time, she thought. I'm going to dance and laugh and not think about things—and then I'll go home and, by God, I'll handle it.
And that's what she did; she danced with Ryan three, four, five times in a row. Then they went to the bar, he ordered up a beer and excused himself for a few moments. She asked for an ice water while she waited and when he came back a slow song came on and they hit the dance floor again. He pulled her into his arms, held her close, swayed with her, his big soft hands running up and down her back, over her butt and hips, pulling her against him. Tears sparkled in her eyes. It had been too long since she'd felt like this, like a woman and not a mean, demanding bitch.
He kissed her neck as they danced and said, "Marty, do you have any idea what you do to me?"
"Yeah, I have an idea," she said. "But I have a very good memory—anyone does that to you."
"Let's find someplace quieter," he said, ignoring the jibe. "More private. What do you say?"
"I can't, Ryan. I can't go that far, you know that."
"Sure you can, or you wouldn't be here."
She laughed. "Tempting," she said. "But no, thanks."
"What do you have in mind, then?" he asked.
She pulled away a little. "Just a little dancing…"
"But see, now that I have my arms around you, I'm starting to get all those old feelings. And I think you have 'em, too, or you wouldn't have called me…."
Oh, I have them, all right, she thought. I don't want this to ever end.
"Come on. Let's get out of here."
"Your house?" she asked.
"Can't," he said. "A guy from work is staying there for a couple of weeks. And besides, it's a mess. Come on," he said, and then he took her hand and pulled her along.