| Chapter 21 |
David’s cell phone rang at midnight. He got out of bed and padded across the room.
He had plugged it in near the table.
It was Linda.
“Where are you?” Her voice cold and sterile.
“The Anatole,” David replied with reservation.
“Alone?”
“Uh, James is here, too.”
“Of course.”
He winced. “Linda, I ...”
“I want to talk to you,” she interrupted.
“Now? At home?”
“Yes, damn it, now!”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
He dropped the phone and began dressing as fast as he could.
“Think she wants you back home?” James asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Good luck,” James said wistfully, watching his best friend hurry out the door. He
looked around the shadowy room, from one wall to another. The city lights cast a soft
flickering glow from beyond the plate glass window. A quiet fell over the room that rang
in his ears. It was the worst stab of loneliness yet.
Shasha called three hours later.
“David’s in the hospital,” she said, her voice defeated with this added shock.
“What?”
Distraught, Shasha could hardly breathe. The sound of his voice made it worse. All
those years of living a lie. An awful gloom had darkened her world, and for the first
time in her life, she felt lonely. Her daughters had quickly caught on to something
wrong, and tormented her with questions that she couldn’t answer. Seeking sanctuary
in her studio, her anger had flared again and she found herself smashing the statue that
James loved so dearly. Holding the small phone to her ear, simply talking to him was
difficult in a thousand different ways, a struggle to continue. “An accident. On
Stemmons Freeway. His car rolled over. He’s in intensive care.”
Tears welled in James’s eyes. His throat thickened. Panic reared again. It was
difficult to speak.
“Are you still there?”
“Shasha ... please tell me ... how bad is it?”
She closed her eyes to the pain in his voice, a voice at odds with the man she had
known most of her life. “I thought you’d want to be here,” she said.
“Where are you?”
“At the hospital with Linda. I’ll call the others when we hang up.”
“What hospital?”
“Baylor.”
“I’ll be there right away.”
James frantically threw on his wrinkled clothes, rushing then to the elevator and through
the lobby. Behind the wheel, he sobbed. The possibility of losing David this way made
the night seem like an engulfing shadow of darkness.
By the time he arrived, the frantic rush to Baylor was no more than a blur. He bolted
through the emergency entrance and found himself staring at the double stainless steel
doors that led to intensive care, his face wet with tears. Shasha had never seen him in
such a state of despair. Staring at him, she stepped quietly to his side.
“I love him,” he said, vaguely aware of her presence. “I always have.” He looked at her,
a woman who didn’t seem like his wife. “I love him just as I always have. No more and
no less. Everyone knows that. Nothing’s changed but the physical expression.”
She watched him cross the waiting room and drop into a chair. He leaned forward and
buried his face in his hands. Linda was sitting across the room by herself, miserable
from hours of sobbing. Other people were there, one or two leafing through
magazines, and a couple of men near the entry talking in a hushed tone. A sullen
mood pervaded the room, another setting in a nightmare that seemed endless.
Shasha glanced at her husband, his face contorted, a man she knew so well, only to
learn she didn’t know him at all. Absently, she stepped over and rejoined Linda.
“Three hours ago I hated him,” Linda said, lost in grief. “Now I’m afraid I’m going to
lose him. This happened because I told him to leave the house.” She looked at
Shasha, pleading: “I don’t hate him. I couldn’t. I just don’t understand what he did. I
don’t understand how he got involved in something like that.” She pictured the grief on
his face when she told him to get out. “You should’ve seen his face. The sorrow in his
eyes. He wanted to talk and I wouldn’t listen. I kicked him out and now he’s in there.”
She looked at the steel doors, then wailed: “Oh God! Please don’t let him die.”
Shasha took her into her arms and stroked her hair. “It’s not your fault, Linda. No one
can blame you for being mad.” Shasha looked across the room at her despondent
husband, suddenly thankful it wasn’t James in intensive care. Though she couldn’t see
living in the same house ever again, he would always be their children’s father. Her
loathing could never go so far as to deny him that, or wish him harm. “David will be
okay. You’ll see. You’ll be talking to him before long.”
Jorge, Jake and their wives arrived within the hour. They entered the room quietly and
took seats. Tim walked in last and sat next to James. He wished Rosemary was with
him, but he had decided not to disturb her at her mother’s. Instead, he left word on the
recorder in case she called.
“No word yet?” asked Tim.
James shook his head.
Tim glanced at the somber faces around the room. Jorge and Jake read the question
on his face, and they nodded. James sitting by himself meant Shasha knew. All five
had confessed. With David’s condition unknown in addition to what they were going
through, the atmosphere could not have been drearier. They all noticed when Tim
placed his hand on James’s leg and squeezed it, a trifling gesture, but one that now
carried new connotations.
Thirty minutes passed before a doctor stepped into the room.
“Mrs. Westin,” he called out and Linda stood up and approached him. The others
gathered behind her. “Your husband will be fine. He suffered a pretty nasty head injury,
but no signs of a concussion. A broken forearm and two broken ribs,” he said, reading
from a chart. “A few cuts and bruises.” He looked at her. “From the nature of the
wreck described to me, I’d say he’s a very lucky man. We have him sedated. You’ll be
able to see him in a couple of hours. We’ll have him in a room by then. He’ll be in a lot
of pain so we’ll have him on some pretty strong painkillers. I’d say he’ll be here at least
three or four days.”
Linda burst into tears.
The doctor, in a hurry, assumed she had no questions and disappeared behind the
double doors.
They all sat back down, this time closer together, with no more than one chair between
any of them. Tim noticed. He saw it as symbolic of their friendship, a collective show
of relief, as if the ordeal they had just passed through had somehow reduced the
severity of their dilemma.
After Tim’s heart quit racing, he was the first to speak. “Now that we know David’s
going to be okay, my only other wish is that we all stay friends. No small group could
possibly have more reason.”
An agreeable smile formed in Sally’s eyes. The others returned their solemn gaze to
the floor.
“Did Rosemary have to stay with the children?” Sally asked.
Tim didn’t hesitate with an honest answer. “She went to her mother’s after I told her
about me.”
A small frown came on Sally’s face. “Did she ...?”
Tim interrupted her, anticipating her question. “She wanted to be alone a few days.
She’ll come back home after that.”
Relief made James feel alive again. He was breathing without that debilitating
tightness in his chest, and watching Sally. The one he and David thought would be the
most volatile looked calm, almost jovial.
“It must have been awful locked up in a Mexican jail,” Sally said to Tim.
“Four remarkable friends stuck by me. Otherwise I could’ve spent the rest of my life
down there.”
“That wasn’t going to happen,” James stated matter-of-factly.
Jorge smiled. “James is right, Tim. You were coming out of Mexico one way or
another.”
Tim looked at Linda. His upper lip curled between his teeth. He came to his feet,
approached and knelt before her. “I know you’ve had more than your share to deal with
this week.”
She looked at him, unable, or perhaps unwilling to respond. Somewhere inside, her
fondness for him had not changed, but those sentiments were buried under an
avalanche of other emotions. After listening to the doctor, she felt tremendous relief.
She was concerned about David’s injuries. Since the grief over kicking him out had
been displaced, she wondered how she was going to deal with him. She realized, in
spite of his condition, that she was nowhere near ready to have him back home. It
angered her that his injuries made her feel obligated.
“All I can do is apologize,” Tim went on to say. “I know that’s worth very little. You would
have expected us to deny our urges, and we should have, but we can’t deny who we
are. I hope with all my soul you don’t decide it was betrayal. None of us could betray
our wives. Our guilt doesn’t lie in who we are, but in being who we are tempted us to
lie to you. It’s the deception we couldn’t live with. I know in my heart none of you will
ever be lied to again.”
He stood quietly and went back to his chair.
Two hours later, Linda stopped abruptly in the doorframe of David’s room, shocked by
the reality of his condition. He laid bandaged, tubes in his nose, an IV in one arm and
a cast on the other. Though she had already cried for hours, just now it was difficult to
not burst into tears again. She stepped for-ward, their eyes locked in a troubled gaze.
Resisting a great temptation, she did not take his hand. “Now you know what I wanted
to do to you,” she said, attempting to evade imminent tears.
A weak smile came to his lips.
“What happened?” she asked.
He painfully lifted his head to look at his bandaged chest and the cast on his arm. “Too
much of a hurry. Changed lanes and almost hit a car. I lost control swerving back over
into the other lane.”
“Do you remember any of it?”
“A loud noise. Nothing after that. Good thing no other cars were involved.”
She looked at him, aware it had been her phone call that caused his haste.
“Can I come home?” he asked.
“You won’t be leaving here for a few days.”
“After that?”
“David ... I sat out there over three hours wondering if you were going to live or die. I’ve
never been that scared before.” She thought for a moment, then blurted. “Except when
you were in Mexico, goddamn you!” The first tear he saw came down her cheek. “I’m
here because I love you. I prayed for another chance to tell you that. But don’t think for
one minute I don’t hate what you’ve done to us.”
“I know I can’t expect you to forgive me.”
“You know what really scares me about this—and don’t give me an answer when I say
it—because I fear the answer more than facing what you’ve already done. What
scares me is you won’t be willing to give it up.”
He was grateful she wasn’t expecting an answer. In the hotel room he pondered long
and hard about life without James. It left him feeling empty. Could he give him up? He
knew that was his only real choice, though he wished circumstances were different, that
somehow his feelings for James would be accepted as a matter of course, and that
nothing so vital would be forced from his life.
“Everyone’s here.” Linda nodded toward the door. “They’re in the waiting room down
the hall.”
He glanced at the door. “Bet the air is thick out there.”
“Rosemary went to her mother’s house,” said Linda.
“Jake’s out there, too?”
“Yes.”
“He doesn’t look worse than I do?”
“Not a bruise on him. Sally actually looks congenial.”
“You’re kidding! Maybe Jake didn’t tell her.”
“Sally knows,” she said. “I have no idea why they’re both behaving like nothing’s
happened. No one has said anything about it, except Tim. He apologized to me.”
“That’s no surprise.”
“You know, David ... I can almost understand this with Tim, but those other brutes.”
He could see she was looking for answers, for some kind of an explanation that might
make sense. How could something so easy for him to understand seem so
complicated to explain? “Anything I say will sound like an excuse or justification to you.
Since I’ve already got all the bruises I can handle, I don’t want to make you mad again.”
“I’m already mad.”
“I know.”
“As soon as you get well I’m going to start throwing glasses again, at your damn head.”
“I’ll have to be home for you to do that.”
“I’ll tell you what. You give me Tim and you can keep the rest of those guys.”
He looked at her a moment, then said: “I thought I’d never hear you joking with me
again.”
“I’m laughing to keep from crying.”
“I’ve been hoping you’ll find a way to understand. Are you willing to try?”
“You know, I can picture you squaring off with a banker and getting everything you
want. I can picture you as the dominant force in negotiating a contract. And when you
were in Mexico, as much as I hated the danger you were in, I could picture you as the
type of man who would stand by a friend. I was proud of you for that. I was glad you
have friends who’d do the same for you. I can’t picture you getting in bed with another
man. I can’t picture two men being intimate with each other, period. I’ve tried and it
disgusts me. So you tell me, David, what could have possibly made it happen?”
He looked at the wall across the room. She was giving him a chance to explain, but he
didn’t know how. All he could do was make an attempt. “You realize it when you’re a
boy, the age when we begin to notice things about girls. Things that make us stare.
For some of us, the same thing happens when we look at other boys. That’s when the
conflict begins. We’re angry, confused, embarrassed. We’ve been told all our lives it’s
wrong. We suffer every negative emotion you can imagine. But in the end, we’re still
attracted to boys. If we’re gay, that attraction for girls doesn’t exist. But if we’re at-
tracted to both, we become men who dream of having a wife and a home and want to
grow old with the woman we love—you have men like me. You have those guys out
there. We’re born and we exist. Our biggest mistake is not telling the women who
marry us before they make that commitment.”
She listened to him, astonished. She had never heard him say anything so distinctly
heartfelt. He had taken the edge off something she hadn’t yet begun to understand. In
her heart she knew he was going to make her fall in love with him all over again,
despite her torn sensibilities and confusion.
“This attraction is so compelling you have to lie to your wife? You have to break her
heart and get in the hay with other men?”
“Any answer would sound trite or selfish.”
“Give it a try. Why couldn’t you just resist the temptation?”
His chest heaved painfully with a deep breath, making him aware of the ag-ony of
broken ribs. “Okay…” He winced with an attempt to shift his weight. “Call it a
weakness in my character or a stupid justification, but it makes sense to me. Before I
let it happen, I was falling apart. It nags at you constantly and interferes with your daily
life. Sometimes it seems you can’t think about anything else. You get everything you
need in a woman from your wife, and still something is missing. It’s a need. Not so
much for just sex, but you do have a need for an emotional and physical connection
with a man. The sex compliments one part of the equation, and satisfies the other.
You don’t feel complete without it. Being intimate naturally follows. It’s something you
need, but it’s also a way to express that part of you. I don’t know what a woman’s sex
drive feels like, but I assume it’s similar to a man’s. If it is, you can understand it has
the same power when it includes those of your own sex.
“Getting older seems to make it tougher to deal with. You not only want the physical
part, you want to know someone like you, to be around him and have someone to talk
to. I was beginning to believe I would live and die without experiencing something
important. And it almost never lets up. It’s like something’s gnawing at your insides,
unfulfilled. You see a man at the store or jogging down the street and you wonder if he’
s the kind of man you could share this part of your life with. And all the while you have
to deal with the conflicts involved. There were times I thought I was going crazy.” He
looked up at the ceiling, remembering the day it all started. “I decided to talk to James,
get it off my chest.” His eyes shifted to hers. “That’s when I found out he’s like me. We
realized we’ve been attracted to each other for years. It worried us. We thought it
would become irresistible. And it did. It seemed natural to give in. At first I thought if I
had someone to talk to it might help, but it went further. We figured if we let it happen,
the nagging inside would be resolved and our state-of-mind would go back to normal.
That worked, too, except for the guilt over lying to you and Shasha.”
“So that explains your behavior change last spring, when you quit walking around in a
daze ... and why you seemed reluctant to talk about the poker games.”
“I suppose it does.”
“James wasn’t spaced out like you were. Why was he suddenly disposed to give into
it?”
“I felt guilty about that, too. He was managing it better than me. I just wanted someone
to talk to, someone who knew and would accept me in spite of it. But he felt the same
way. It surfaced when I confessed. Anyway, he would have faced it eventually. It’s just
easier to suppress when your children are still living at home.”
“A wife still living at home isn’t reason enough to suppress it?”
A lump formed in his throat. “I can’t defend myself for that. I’ve asked the same
question a thousand times.”
She sat quietly for a moment, then said: “That’s why you’re still a shithead.”
“I know, honey. But I was born a shithead.”
“You and James having sex. It’s impossible to accept. I hate thinking about it.”
“Linda, it’s not disgusting. It’s human. You’ve been conditioned to think that way. It
may only affect a small percentage of men, but it still involves two human beings. I’ve
wondered the same thing myself: How can I be attracted to another man? The answer
is simple. I was born with something apparently most men aren’t, something only
another man can resolve. It’s part of the man you married, but it doesn’t determine the
success of our marriage or our happiness together.”
“So you find with these men the same thing I always thought you have with me?” she
said.
“No. Please understand, this is completely separate. My whole foundation is my life
with you. You’re everything I could possibly want in a wife. If I didn’t have you, I’d be out
there looking for you. This void doesn’t exist because a man finds his wife inadequate,
otherwise he’d seek out another woman. It’s just there. Men like to play golf with other
men. This is the same thing on another level. Like I said, it’s a need to be with
someone like yourself, another man, a guy you can identify with. It’s a feeling inside
that’s impossible to explain, but you know it’s there and it never goes away.”
He studied her troubled silence.
“Not easy to talk about, is it?” he said.
“No.”
“James is out there, too?”
“Yeah. Shasha called him.”
“How is he?”
“He looks like shit.”
David thought about the panic attacks James had suffered, thinking they must still be
plaguing him. “He took a two week leave-of-absence.”
“Why, so you two could roll in the hay while you’re kicked out of the house?” Her voice
had taken on an instant tinge of contempt.
David turned his head away from her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her tone changing to remorse just as suddenly as her anger had
flared.
He looked back at her. “I deserve anything you say.”
“No you don’t. I don’t know what you deserve just now, but not cruelty.”
“I love you, Linda.”
“I don't want to hear that, David. It sounds like you’re trying to play on my emotions.”
“Okay. I understand.” He smiled and changed the subject. “How is Shasha? How’s
she taking it?”
“Like me—not well.”
He regretted asking, wanting to avoid her quick mindset. She had not yet told him he
could come back home. He hoped time would mend her heart before anger had a
chance to prompt a hasty decision. And he was worried about James. Perhaps more
so than for his own plight. He figured Shasha would be even more unpredictable than
Linda under these circumstances. But then, evidently Sally turned out to be the least
predictable of them all. He could hardly believe that Linda had described her as
congenial, when he had envisaged a broken jaw for Jake.
Linda glanced at the door. “They all want to come in and see you.”
“Okay. I’m up to it.”
Standing in the middle of the waiting room, Jorge was talking to David’s doctor when
Linda returned. Everyone stood up, ready to go in.
“Thank-you Doctor,” said Jorge. “I guess we’ll go in and see him now.”
The doctor looked at the size of the group with concern. “This is too many people at
one time. I think ...”
“Oh yes,” said Jorge, interrupting him as he took a checkbook from his back pocket.
He wanted everyone to go into David’s room together, thinking it might somehow have
a healing effect. “I wanted to leave a little donation for the children’s wing while I’m here
tonight.” He wrote a quick check and handed it to the doctor.
The doctor glanced at the check, and then looked back at Jorge, jolted by a check
written for fifty thousand dollars.
Jorge smiled and asked: “Where did you say that room is, Doctor?”
Staring at the check, the doctor nodded toward the hall. “Room three-twelve,” he
replied absently.
Everyone followed Linda and Jorge to David’s room, where the eight of them gathered
around his bed. It was the first moment the women saw all five of their husbands
together since they had learned of their bisexuality. In their ongoing struggle to
comprehend the nature of the men they had married, a rekindled tension settled over
the room. The women glanced from one man to the next, at a complete loss to
understand how they could have become lovers.
They watched Tim kneel beside David’s bed and gently take the hand protruding from
the cast, the smile between two men now tainted with the women’s interpretive
thoughts.
“How are you, now that you’ve got your constitutional rights back?” David asked with
heartfelt affection.
Tim smiled and his brows lifted with relief in seeing David alive and well. “Tonight
we're more worried about you.”
David’s eyes moistened. He swallowed with a dry throat, addressing Tim as if he were
the only one in the room. “It’s not good when you wake up from something like that,
then realize you’re disappointed to still be alive.”
“Don’t say that, David!” Linda blurted. “Don’t ever say anything like that again.”
Tim looked at her. “He didn’t mean it.”
“I don’t want to hear you say it, either,” James said angrily, standing at the foot of the
bed.
“He’s depressed,” said Tim. “We all are.”
“Well I’m not,” said Sally, adding: “now that we know David didn’t go out and get
himself killed.”
Linda looked at her, incredulous. “Sally, you didn’t get mad when they risked their
necks in Mexico. Now you’re not mad when you find out your husband’s having sex
with other men! What’s up with you? Does Jake have a goddamned blank check?”
The man in the bed next to David’s sat up and scanned the group. Their heads turned
in unison. They looked at him for a moment, then turned again to resume the
conversation, as if none of them registered the fact that a complete stranger was
listening to everything said.
Jake spoke: “She’s known about me for four years. I had no idea.” He looked at Sally
as he continued. “I’m lucky to have her. She decided to accept it then, and she’s
forgiven me now.”
“You’re right, Jake,” said Linda with a mocking tone. “That’s pretty damn lucky.”
Sally had spent a lot of time thinking about the other wives since Jake confessed, trying
to think of a way to help defuse their anger before it influenced their decisions.
“Actually,” she said, “I was glad he finally got around to telling me about his little secret.”
“Little secret!” Shasha blurted.
Linda was still looking at Sally. “How did you find out about it four years ago?”
“I made the assumption when I found gay porno movies in his closet.”
“Dirty movies aren’t the same as actually doing it,” Linda replied. “Could’ve been
nothing more than curiosity.”
“Well, perhaps. It didn’t add up that way to me. I also assumed he might eventually act
on it.”
“So nothing he does can make you mad?” Shasha steamed.
The tension made Michelle uncomfortable. “She’s just dealing with it in her own way.
We have no right to judge her for that.”
“You know what pisses me off about Jake?” Sally answered in defense. “He leaves
wet towels laying around after a shower. And I have to pick up his dirty socks. A dozen
things are on that list. Sometimes it’s enough to drive you crazy. Those things bother
me because they’re lazy habits that he could do something about. This is different. If
he was put on this earth with a thing for men, who the hell am I to explain it or question
how some of us are put together? I’m not so sure I’m ready to get rid of him for
something he doesn’t control.”
“You don’t think he can control himself when he wants to get in bed with other men?”
Linda nearly shouted.
“It’s within my control to stop overeating, but I don’t,” Sally replied.
“Excellent analogy,” Linda retorted.
“Perhaps closer to the mark than you think.” Sally folded her arms, frustrated. Her
attempt to inspire a healing process had started badly.
“So here we are,” Shasha fumed, “talking about all of this out in the open. It’s turning
my stomach.”
“It might help to talk about it in the open,” said Michelle. “We may never understand
why it happened, but it may help to get it out and share our feelings.”
“Okay, Michelle,” said Shasha, irritated by her calm demeanor, “why don’t you share
your feelings.”
Michelle glanced at her husband before she relied. “I hate it as much as you do. I hate
the fact that it was in him to do it. But I love him. I can’t imagine that will ever change. If
you think about it, what Sally said makes sense. I thought I had a perfect husband, but
he has a flaw, or a weakness, or whatever you want to call it, but I’m not prepared to
give him up. After twenty-five years, he’s finally given me something to forgive him for.
And in spite of the fact it seems unforgivable, that’s what I’m trying to do.”
Shasha wasn’t about to be so understanding. “What is it, Michelle, his money?” she
said bitterly, angry that Michelle could forgive her husband for doing the same thing
James had done, when she herself could not, no matter how hard she had tried, no
matter how much, deep inside, she wanted to.
“You know me better than that, Shasha,” Michelle replied, offended. “I’ll forget you said
that because I know exactly how you feel.”
Silence followed.
Momentarily, Linda looked at Tim. “How is Rosemary dealing with it?”
Not expecting to be questioned, Tim was caught off guard. “I’m not sure. Don’t think
she knows how she’s gonna deal with it yet.”
Five men stood in awkward silence while their wives bantered their emotions for a
while longer, their eyes shifting as each of the women put forth their resentment. Then
Sally made a statement that ended the conversation.
“Why the hell are we in here getting mad at each other?”
“You’re mad? Funny, you don’t seem the slightest bit mad,” said Linda.
“Goddammit it, Linda! Would you give me a break? I went through this four years ago,
remember?” Sally paused to calm herself before she continued. “Look, we’re all here
tonight because David was in a car crash. He was lucky enough to survive. Why don’t
we focus on that? Get him a Rubik’s Cube or something so he can pass the time while
he’s here.”
“I agree,” said Michelle. “We could’ve lost him.”
“So you’re just going on with your life as if nothing happened?” Linda asked.
“Try anyway. …Listen, let’s give our emotions time to settle. Maybe we could meet at
your house, Linda. Next Saturday perhaps. Maybe by then we can sort this out. Our
friendship means a great deal to me. We’re all in the same boat here. It might help if
we work on it together. Friendship and marriage is too important to simply throw away.”
After a few moments of consideration, the other women warmed to the suggestion with
a nod. The men, standing in a near stupor, watched them file out of the room. Then
James looked at David and stepped over to his side. He leaned in and kissed David’s
forehead just below the bandage, then reached out to stroke the side of his face.
“You scared me tonight,” he said.
“I’ll be all right.”
“At least it looks like they’re trying to forgive us.”
“Yeah. Maybe we’re luckier than we thought.”
“I’ll come to see you tomorrow afternoon.”
Jorge stepped forward to take David’s hand. “Good to see you made it through that
one.”
“Which one is that, the wreck or telling Linda about us?”
Jorge laughed. “Think we made a mistake by telling them?”
“I can’t believe that, Jorge. Lying to her would have eventually ruined me. It seems
Michelle is taking it well.”
“I’m still holding my breath. She never overreacts before thinking something through.
I'm hoping she doesn’t decide she can’t live with it in the end.”
David looked at Jake. “Sure looks like it went well for you, buddy.”
“Yeah. I still can’t believe it. I thought you guys would be visiting me here.”
“I got the impression Sally’s trying to smooth things out.”
“I think she is. She’s worried it might destroy our friendship.”
“Let’s hope not, Jake. Maybe she had a good idea. Things might start falling into
place by the time we get together Saturday.”
“David,” said James, now standing at the foot of the bed, “we should go so you can get
some rest.”
“It must look like I need it.”
He smiled with affection. “I wouldn’t look in the mirror for a couple of days.”
The four of them started for the door.
“Hang in there, James,” David called out.
James turned in the doorway and looked at him for a moment before turning to leave.
Stress still filled his dark eyes.
♦ ♦ ♦
Linda and Shasha met for lunch on Greenville Avenue the next day. The waiter had
taken their orders and had just delivered two glasses of wine. After finally getting a few
hours sleep, their perspectives were somewhat less emotional. Both knew no one had
a perfect marriage, but theirs had flown completely apart. Staring at her glass of wine,
her hand resting on the table, Linda placed her fingers on the stem without picking it up.
Shasha noticed an older man escorting a busty young receptionist-type to a table
across the room. She also noticed his wedding band and her lack of one. “It would’ve
been easier to catch James screwing a bimbo like that one over there. At least it
would be easier to understand.”
Linda turned and followed her gaze. “You can bet that’s a lot more common than what
we’re dealing with.” She stared at the mismatched couple for a moment. “It’s funny, I
really believe David wouldn’t be tempted to do something like that. He wouldn’t want to
face worming out of a situation so blatantly juvenile.” She turned back and stared at the
wine glass in thought. The deep purple color seemed to have a soothing affect.
“I wouldn’t want to predict what either one of them would do.” Shasha sighed with
frustration, not at all comfortable with her newfound contempt for men. “I called Michelle
this morning,” she said with a touch of remorse in her voice.
Linda’s eyes lifted.
“I wanted to apologize for the way I talked to her yesterday,” Shasha explained. “Can’t
believe I said those things.”
“Well, I don’t want to be held responsible for anything I said yesterday. I’m sure
Michelle understood.”
“She did, and I agree with what she said over the phone. Since she’s trying to forgive
her husband, she believes it might have seemed like she was condoning what he did. I
guess in a way it did. But it’s affected her as severely as it has us. I don’t think
Michelle’s at all certain how she plans to deal with it in the long run.”
“Is there a way to deal with it?” Linda asked.
“No,” Shasha said, a little too quickly Linda thought. “I can’t imagine sharing the same
bed with him, not now.”
“That’s understandable.”
Shasha looked at her with a tilt of her head. “You don’t feel the same way?”
Linda released a long sigh. “There’s a side to David no one ever sees. He’s
extremely sensuous. He makes love with a lot of passion. Sometimes it’s almost like
he’s a different person. I know the difference. I screwed a few guys in college, and I
can tell you, there’s a difference between getting screwed and being devoured. A man
can’t make love that way unless he’s attracted to you. I suppose I can see how
someone like that can be attracted to all of humanity.”
Shasha stared at her for a moment, speechless. “You’re gonna forgive him, aren’t
you?”
“God help me, Shasha.” Linda blotted the corner of her eye with her napkin. “With all
my heart, that’s exactly what I’m trying to do. But how? When I think about what he’s
done, all the deceit and lies, him being with a man, I feel exactly the same way you do.
Then I think about what my life would be like without him and I realize that seems even
worse. There’s more to it than loving someone. It’s knowing there’s no chance of
finding someone you can love that much.”
Linda paused in thought before she continued. “I was so mad when I kicked his ass
out I thought I could shoot him. Since then, I don’t know exactly why, I’ve had a
desperate need to find out what caused it to happen. There’s some-thing between
David and James that seems to have a profound effect on them. I want to find out
what's inside him that makes him different.”
“It’s pretty simple to me, Linda. The man made some wedding vows that I take
seriously. They didn’t include lying and jumping into bed with other men.”
Linda studied her friend for a moment. Like the mysterious facial expressions of her
art, it seemed her position was set in stone. “I just wish I could be where Sally is on all
of this. It’s not like she’s so insecure that she has to settle for anything her husband
imposes on her. It’s more like she’s got some super-human capacity to figure
something out and accept it as part of life.”
Shasha rolled her eyes. “She and I are free to accept whatever we wish. I don’t accept
it.”
Linda’s eyes shifted to the wine glass. It frightened her to see her best friend letting go
of her marriage, which is exactly what it seemed like she was doing. She knew the
other wives weren’t prepared to make that decision, and she wondered if their
example might help her and Shasha to avoid the wrong path. “Wonder how Rosemary
is coping with it.”
Shasha pictured the dedicated young mother. “I don’t think she’s insecure either, but I
can’t see her ever leaving Tim. She’s more the type who once she’s married, that’s it,
no matter what. She’d sacrifice her entire life trying to resolve a troubled marriage.”
“Yeah. I see that, too. Then you have to consider Tim. Getting mad at him is like
getting mad at a little boy for chasing his ball into the street. Shit, he looks good
enough to eat. Quite a package. I feel wicked just thinking about him.”
Shasha finally smiled. “I have to confess—I’ve wondered what he’d be like in bed,
myself.”
The topic suddenly returned Linda’s calm back to frustration. “Well our husbands
know, don’t they?” she said, an angry thought muttered out loud.
Shasha’s smile disappeared. They sat quietly for a moment, determined to not let
anger ruin lunch.
“Are the girls at your mother’s today?” Linda asked.
“Yeah. They’re trying to figure out what’s going on. Just more for me to worry about,
that bastard. How do you tell your daughters their father is queer?”
“Does your mother know?”
Shasha snorted contempt. “Yes, I made the stupid mistake of telling her.”
“Mistake?”
“James has always been her wonder-boy. Mother’s trying to figure out how it’s my
fault.” Shasha looked down and shook her head with exasperation. “She asked me
this morning if I’ve been attentive to his needs.” She looked back up. “Can you believe
that?”
Linda’s brows lifted in sympathy.
“Anyway,” Shasha went on, “I have something I want to tell you about. I talked to Mr.
Pritchard on the phone last night. He’s the man who owns the gallery over on
McKinney Avenue. You know, the guy that’s been wanting to represent my work. I’ve
decided to do it.”
“You’re kidding!” Linda wondered why this came about just now.
“A couple of months ago he called to let me know a New York gallery is interested in
my sculptures. I can’t think of the name, but you know the one I’m talking about. We
went in when we were shopping in Soho.”
Linda’s eyes widened. “Oh, yeah! The one with the African art. Shasha, that’s
wonderful.”
“I was flattered, but not ready to commit. He’s pretty excited I changed my mind. He
called again this morning and told me my smaller pieces would bring two to ten
thousand dollars each. The life-size pieces would bring twenty to forty thousand.”
“I’m happy for you, girl.”
The prospect had certainly lifted Shasha’s spirits. Linda wondered if selling her art had
something to do with her new circumstances.
Shasha ignored the curiosity all over Linda’s face. She kept the conversation and her
train of thought on her art work. “I’ve always wanted to accomplish something on my
own. Figured the time would come after the girls quit being so dependant on their
mother’s constant attention. It’s time. If people are interested in my art, it doesn’t
matter to them if I didn’t finish college. And since I don’t have to worry about making
money, I can work at any pace I want.”
Linda tried to hide her concern. It definitely sounded like Shasha intended to be on her
own. Linda exhaled a long breath as she leaned over the table to prop her chin atop
her fist. “Are you going to leave him, Shasha?”
Linda’s question put Shasha back on the verge of tears. She closed her eyes as if she
were not quite ready to say the words, for saying them would make the decision all too
real.
♦ ♦ ♦
Linda went to the hospital after lunch. On the way, she stopped by the office to check
with Betty. The staff seemed perplexed over David’s longer than expected absence,
but things were trucking along smoothly. Linda picked up David’s laptop in case he
wanted to work or play games. He had just finished a bowl of soup when she pushed a
chair next to the bed.
“How are you today?” she asked, making room on the night table for the laptop.
“Never knew I could hurt in so many places at the same time,” he said, his jaw tight as
he adjusted his weight.
She straightened the sheet, then looked directly at him. “I don’t want to share you,
David.”
She watched a kind of uneasiness come into his eyes.
“That’s what you’d like to ask me to do, isn’t it?” she asked.
He knew the question was inevitable, dreading it nearly as much as confessing his
bisexuality. His chest tightened, his hands found nothing to do.
“David, is that what you’re planning?”
The question settled over him like toxic radiation. Fleeting thoughts about having to
give up James had been part of the misery of the last couple of days, but those
thoughts had been far too painful to dwell over. Her question made the prospect of
never again laying with his lover very real. The alternative: watching the woman he had
been married to for twenty years turn and walk out of the room.
He had laid awake much of the night thinking about their marriage, all the dreams they
shared of growing old together. Clearly, he realized he could lose her. Nothing else he
would have to face could be nearly so painful. He could not let that happen or even
allow for the possibility. “Not if it means losing you,” he said with resolve.
“So the burden is on me!” she said hatefully.
“Honey, I can’t pretend. I told you how I feel about him. If you can’t accept that … if you
can’t allow him to be part of my life, I’ll walk away from him.”
She turned her head with frustration and stared angrily across the room.
He continued: “The truth is I would give up anything to keep you. Nothing has ever
scared me as much as the thought of losing you. I would avoid seeing the others. I
would see James for business reasons only, or find a new attorney. I would quit seeing
him altogether if you didn’t feel comfortable with our friendship. There’s nothing I
wouldn’t do. When we’re eighty-five years old, I want you there, helping me up the step.”
She turned to him. “And in the meantime, you’ll live with what you’re telling me is a void
in your life?”
“Yes.”
“Can’t you see a psychologist?”
“It’s not a psychological problem. A man can’t be convinced he’s not who he is. I’m
bisexual. I can’t pretend I’m not. I’ve tried that and it only led to frustration. I don’t have
to spend time with James or the others, but I have to have you love me for who I am.”
“So my choice is to share you with your male lover, or live with a husband who has an
emotional void, who’ll end up blaming me for what’s missing in his life?”
“That’s not how to define your choice. I’ll never blame you. How could I when I know it’s
outrageous to think you should accept my involvement with James. All I ask is that you
love me for who I am. I don’t understand it any better than you do, but I know how
powerful it is. I can admit to you now that the desire to be with a man can be
consuming, even more so since my feelings for James are so strong. So it’ll be difficult
sometimes, but less so if you and I are getting through it together. To me, it’s worth it. I
need you. I want nothing more than know I have you forever.” He paused, and then
added: “There’s something else I’ve realized. Even though I’m worried I’m going to
lose you, I’ve never felt closer to you than I do right now. Knowing that you know. Being
able to talk to you about it. You can’t imagine how important that is.”
She could hardly speak. “God, I love you so much,” she cried.
A long silence passed as Linda stared at the half-full glass of orange juice on the tray-
stand over David’s lap. For her, there were so many complications to muddle through,
it was painful and confusing. For David, it was black and white—he would do anything
to keep his wife.
“You had lunch with Shasha today?” he asked after a while.
“Yes.”
“How’s she doing?”
Her expression changed to concern. “I hope I’m wrong about what I think I saw today.”
She stopped abruptly, struck again by the gravity of Shasha’s apparent plans. David’s
brow furrowed as he waited for her to continue. Their eyes met. “I think she’s planning
to leave James.”
“What?”
“She didn’t say it outright, but she knew I had that impression and she didn’t say
anything to make me think otherwise. It’s devastating, but I don’t think she can forgive
him.”
“She hasn’t had enough time to make that decision,” he replied.
“That’s your opinion, David.”
He looked up at the ceiling, his expression tight with concern. If anyone could predict
what Shasha might do, it would be Linda. He feared for James, not sure he could deal
with losing his wife. Just the possibility had wrecked his peace-of-mind and launched
those panic attacks. He and James both knew there would be huge difficulties to work
through, that they would probably have to give up something important; but down deep
they believed their marriages would endure. Now things seemed to be spinning out of
control; and he knew, though she seemed to be working through it, that his own wife
had not yet made up her mind about their future.
“I know you think what you’ve done isn’t infidelity, but you’re kidding yourself. It is. This
form is just harder to deal with. Do you have a clue what it’s like to think you know the
person you’re married to, and then find out you don’t?”
“But you do. I haven’t changed. I’m still the same man.”
“No you’re not! I suddenly find out you’re bisexual. You’re sneaking around and telling
me lies. That’s not the man I knew. On top of that, you did it with a friend of mine, my
best friend’s husband, for godsake!”
David shuddered inwardly. He couldn’t bear standing on such thin ice. “Please
believe me, I do understand how you feel about that; but isn’t it important to you, even if
it was just in our minds, that we weren’t being unfaithful, that we were responding to
something apart from you and Shasha?”
“I don’t know.”
He could see in her eyes her struggle with his perspective.
“Sally is totally comfortable with it,” said Linda. “Wish I knew how she got there.”
“Linda ... I’m worried about James. It looked like he was thinking about suicide when
Shasha kicked him out. That was the main reason I wanted him to stay with me.”
“You’re not serious!”
“I am serious. I really don’t know how he’ll deal with it.”
Linda’s brow lifted with concern. “You wouldn’t consider something like that, would
you?”
“I can’t claim to know the hurt I’ve caused you, but I know mine. I live with it everyday.
Sometimes it seems like I was born with a defective brain that makes me different from
everyone else. It makes me feel like I don’t de-serve your love or real happiness.
When I spent time with James and the others, we made each other feel normal. We
thought we could go on from there and be the men we wanted to be, the husbands we
wanted to be. The side effect is guilt, and what you and I are going through now. I feel
like a fuckup.”
“All of that is exactly what I’m trying to understand, but it didn’t answer my question.”
He took her wrist in his hand. “Honey, just love me. Just always love me. Your love
gives me more strength than you know. Love me, and let’s live the second half of our
lives together.”
She finally smiled. “Now that was a better answer.” She looked at him a moment,
wincing as she scanned his bandages and cast. Her eyes met his with another
question. “David, do you feel sorry for yourself?”
“No ... Well, if you mean because of these aches and pains from the crash, yes. If you
mean about being bisexual, usually no. There’s a very positive side to it, but I’m not
sure you’re ready to hear what it is.”
“I don’t want you to keep anything from me, whether I’m ready to hear it or not.”
“Fair enough,” he said, pausing to consider his answer. “Say you enjoy looking at a
Renoir painting and you also enjoy listening to Mozart. Then you’re told something is
wrong with you because Society’s moral code says you can’t enjoy both. Yet you feel
lucky that you like both the painting and the music. You want both in your life; even if
society dictates you should be drawn to one or the other. That’s what it’s like being
bisexual. On one hand, it’s a beautiful and natural part of life; on the other, it’s a curse.
How I feel about James feels natural to me, but that’s considered irrelevant, especially
since I’m married, so I have to learn to deal with it. The price of losing you otherwise is
way too high.”
She looked at him as if the analogy had helped her understand. “You’re not going to
lose me.”
His jaw went tight and he closed his eyes with a swallow. A moment later he opened
them and said: “That’s what I feared I’d never hear you say.”
“I love you, David. It’s that damn simple.”
“Have you’re feelings for James changed?”
Her gaze shifted thoughtfully to the chrome stand holding his IV bag; then she said:
“That question isn’t so simple.”
“It’s not like you hate him or hold him responsible for what I did, is it?”
“No. But he’s taken part of you and I hate feeling jealous. I really hate that. I’ve always
loved James and Shasha. I still do.” She paused and shook her head. “This is one
goddamned shitty set of circumstances. I feel like I’m stuck on an emotional
rollercoaster. All I know is I can’t toss my love in trash just because there’s a difficult
bridge to cross.”
“Can I come home?”
“Can you give up your lover?”
“I already have. Can I keep my best friend?”
“No more poker?”
“No more.”
“I’m not over this yet,” she warned him. “Right now I’m relieved, but I’m still confused
and pissed-off.”
“I understand.”
She reached out and took his hand. “Then don’t even think about going any place else.”
He closed his eyes and released a long breath. The cherished feel of his hand in hers
sent shivers down the back of his neck.
He had plugged it in near the table.
It was Linda.
“Where are you?” Her voice cold and sterile.
“The Anatole,” David replied with reservation.
“Alone?”
“Uh, James is here, too.”
“Of course.”
He winced. “Linda, I ...”
“I want to talk to you,” she interrupted.
“Now? At home?”
“Yes, damn it, now!”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
He dropped the phone and began dressing as fast as he could.
“Think she wants you back home?” James asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Good luck,” James said wistfully, watching his best friend hurry out the door. He
looked around the shadowy room, from one wall to another. The city lights cast a soft
flickering glow from beyond the plate glass window. A quiet fell over the room that rang
in his ears. It was the worst stab of loneliness yet.
Shasha called three hours later.
“David’s in the hospital,” she said, her voice defeated with this added shock.
“What?”
Distraught, Shasha could hardly breathe. The sound of his voice made it worse. All
those years of living a lie. An awful gloom had darkened her world, and for the first
time in her life, she felt lonely. Her daughters had quickly caught on to something
wrong, and tormented her with questions that she couldn’t answer. Seeking sanctuary
in her studio, her anger had flared again and she found herself smashing the statue that
James loved so dearly. Holding the small phone to her ear, simply talking to him was
difficult in a thousand different ways, a struggle to continue. “An accident. On
Stemmons Freeway. His car rolled over. He’s in intensive care.”
Tears welled in James’s eyes. His throat thickened. Panic reared again. It was
difficult to speak.
“Are you still there?”
“Shasha ... please tell me ... how bad is it?”
She closed her eyes to the pain in his voice, a voice at odds with the man she had
known most of her life. “I thought you’d want to be here,” she said.
“Where are you?”
“At the hospital with Linda. I’ll call the others when we hang up.”
“What hospital?”
“Baylor.”
“I’ll be there right away.”
James frantically threw on his wrinkled clothes, rushing then to the elevator and through
the lobby. Behind the wheel, he sobbed. The possibility of losing David this way made
the night seem like an engulfing shadow of darkness.
By the time he arrived, the frantic rush to Baylor was no more than a blur. He bolted
through the emergency entrance and found himself staring at the double stainless steel
doors that led to intensive care, his face wet with tears. Shasha had never seen him in
such a state of despair. Staring at him, she stepped quietly to his side.
“I love him,” he said, vaguely aware of her presence. “I always have.” He looked at her,
a woman who didn’t seem like his wife. “I love him just as I always have. No more and
no less. Everyone knows that. Nothing’s changed but the physical expression.”
She watched him cross the waiting room and drop into a chair. He leaned forward and
buried his face in his hands. Linda was sitting across the room by herself, miserable
from hours of sobbing. Other people were there, one or two leafing through
magazines, and a couple of men near the entry talking in a hushed tone. A sullen
mood pervaded the room, another setting in a nightmare that seemed endless.
Shasha glanced at her husband, his face contorted, a man she knew so well, only to
learn she didn’t know him at all. Absently, she stepped over and rejoined Linda.
“Three hours ago I hated him,” Linda said, lost in grief. “Now I’m afraid I’m going to
lose him. This happened because I told him to leave the house.” She looked at
Shasha, pleading: “I don’t hate him. I couldn’t. I just don’t understand what he did. I
don’t understand how he got involved in something like that.” She pictured the grief on
his face when she told him to get out. “You should’ve seen his face. The sorrow in his
eyes. He wanted to talk and I wouldn’t listen. I kicked him out and now he’s in there.”
She looked at the steel doors, then wailed: “Oh God! Please don’t let him die.”
Shasha took her into her arms and stroked her hair. “It’s not your fault, Linda. No one
can blame you for being mad.” Shasha looked across the room at her despondent
husband, suddenly thankful it wasn’t James in intensive care. Though she couldn’t see
living in the same house ever again, he would always be their children’s father. Her
loathing could never go so far as to deny him that, or wish him harm. “David will be
okay. You’ll see. You’ll be talking to him before long.”
Jorge, Jake and their wives arrived within the hour. They entered the room quietly and
took seats. Tim walked in last and sat next to James. He wished Rosemary was with
him, but he had decided not to disturb her at her mother’s. Instead, he left word on the
recorder in case she called.
“No word yet?” asked Tim.
James shook his head.
Tim glanced at the somber faces around the room. Jorge and Jake read the question
on his face, and they nodded. James sitting by himself meant Shasha knew. All five
had confessed. With David’s condition unknown in addition to what they were going
through, the atmosphere could not have been drearier. They all noticed when Tim
placed his hand on James’s leg and squeezed it, a trifling gesture, but one that now
carried new connotations.
Thirty minutes passed before a doctor stepped into the room.
“Mrs. Westin,” he called out and Linda stood up and approached him. The others
gathered behind her. “Your husband will be fine. He suffered a pretty nasty head injury,
but no signs of a concussion. A broken forearm and two broken ribs,” he said, reading
from a chart. “A few cuts and bruises.” He looked at her. “From the nature of the
wreck described to me, I’d say he’s a very lucky man. We have him sedated. You’ll be
able to see him in a couple of hours. We’ll have him in a room by then. He’ll be in a lot
of pain so we’ll have him on some pretty strong painkillers. I’d say he’ll be here at least
three or four days.”
Linda burst into tears.
The doctor, in a hurry, assumed she had no questions and disappeared behind the
double doors.
They all sat back down, this time closer together, with no more than one chair between
any of them. Tim noticed. He saw it as symbolic of their friendship, a collective show
of relief, as if the ordeal they had just passed through had somehow reduced the
severity of their dilemma.
After Tim’s heart quit racing, he was the first to speak. “Now that we know David’s
going to be okay, my only other wish is that we all stay friends. No small group could
possibly have more reason.”
An agreeable smile formed in Sally’s eyes. The others returned their solemn gaze to
the floor.
“Did Rosemary have to stay with the children?” Sally asked.
Tim didn’t hesitate with an honest answer. “She went to her mother’s after I told her
about me.”
A small frown came on Sally’s face. “Did she ...?”
Tim interrupted her, anticipating her question. “She wanted to be alone a few days.
She’ll come back home after that.”
Relief made James feel alive again. He was breathing without that debilitating
tightness in his chest, and watching Sally. The one he and David thought would be the
most volatile looked calm, almost jovial.
“It must have been awful locked up in a Mexican jail,” Sally said to Tim.
“Four remarkable friends stuck by me. Otherwise I could’ve spent the rest of my life
down there.”
“That wasn’t going to happen,” James stated matter-of-factly.
Jorge smiled. “James is right, Tim. You were coming out of Mexico one way or
another.”
Tim looked at Linda. His upper lip curled between his teeth. He came to his feet,
approached and knelt before her. “I know you’ve had more than your share to deal with
this week.”
She looked at him, unable, or perhaps unwilling to respond. Somewhere inside, her
fondness for him had not changed, but those sentiments were buried under an
avalanche of other emotions. After listening to the doctor, she felt tremendous relief.
She was concerned about David’s injuries. Since the grief over kicking him out had
been displaced, she wondered how she was going to deal with him. She realized, in
spite of his condition, that she was nowhere near ready to have him back home. It
angered her that his injuries made her feel obligated.
“All I can do is apologize,” Tim went on to say. “I know that’s worth very little. You would
have expected us to deny our urges, and we should have, but we can’t deny who we
are. I hope with all my soul you don’t decide it was betrayal. None of us could betray
our wives. Our guilt doesn’t lie in who we are, but in being who we are tempted us to
lie to you. It’s the deception we couldn’t live with. I know in my heart none of you will
ever be lied to again.”
He stood quietly and went back to his chair.
Two hours later, Linda stopped abruptly in the doorframe of David’s room, shocked by
the reality of his condition. He laid bandaged, tubes in his nose, an IV in one arm and
a cast on the other. Though she had already cried for hours, just now it was difficult to
not burst into tears again. She stepped for-ward, their eyes locked in a troubled gaze.
Resisting a great temptation, she did not take his hand. “Now you know what I wanted
to do to you,” she said, attempting to evade imminent tears.
A weak smile came to his lips.
“What happened?” she asked.
He painfully lifted his head to look at his bandaged chest and the cast on his arm. “Too
much of a hurry. Changed lanes and almost hit a car. I lost control swerving back over
into the other lane.”
“Do you remember any of it?”
“A loud noise. Nothing after that. Good thing no other cars were involved.”
She looked at him, aware it had been her phone call that caused his haste.
“Can I come home?” he asked.
“You won’t be leaving here for a few days.”
“After that?”
“David ... I sat out there over three hours wondering if you were going to live or die. I’ve
never been that scared before.” She thought for a moment, then blurted. “Except when
you were in Mexico, goddamn you!” The first tear he saw came down her cheek. “I’m
here because I love you. I prayed for another chance to tell you that. But don’t think for
one minute I don’t hate what you’ve done to us.”
“I know I can’t expect you to forgive me.”
“You know what really scares me about this—and don’t give me an answer when I say
it—because I fear the answer more than facing what you’ve already done. What
scares me is you won’t be willing to give it up.”
He was grateful she wasn’t expecting an answer. In the hotel room he pondered long
and hard about life without James. It left him feeling empty. Could he give him up? He
knew that was his only real choice, though he wished circumstances were different, that
somehow his feelings for James would be accepted as a matter of course, and that
nothing so vital would be forced from his life.
“Everyone’s here.” Linda nodded toward the door. “They’re in the waiting room down
the hall.”
He glanced at the door. “Bet the air is thick out there.”
“Rosemary went to her mother’s house,” said Linda.
“Jake’s out there, too?”
“Yes.”
“He doesn’t look worse than I do?”
“Not a bruise on him. Sally actually looks congenial.”
“You’re kidding! Maybe Jake didn’t tell her.”
“Sally knows,” she said. “I have no idea why they’re both behaving like nothing’s
happened. No one has said anything about it, except Tim. He apologized to me.”
“That’s no surprise.”
“You know, David ... I can almost understand this with Tim, but those other brutes.”
He could see she was looking for answers, for some kind of an explanation that might
make sense. How could something so easy for him to understand seem so
complicated to explain? “Anything I say will sound like an excuse or justification to you.
Since I’ve already got all the bruises I can handle, I don’t want to make you mad again.”
“I’m already mad.”
“I know.”
“As soon as you get well I’m going to start throwing glasses again, at your damn head.”
“I’ll have to be home for you to do that.”
“I’ll tell you what. You give me Tim and you can keep the rest of those guys.”
He looked at her a moment, then said: “I thought I’d never hear you joking with me
again.”
“I’m laughing to keep from crying.”
“I’ve been hoping you’ll find a way to understand. Are you willing to try?”
“You know, I can picture you squaring off with a banker and getting everything you
want. I can picture you as the dominant force in negotiating a contract. And when you
were in Mexico, as much as I hated the danger you were in, I could picture you as the
type of man who would stand by a friend. I was proud of you for that. I was glad you
have friends who’d do the same for you. I can’t picture you getting in bed with another
man. I can’t picture two men being intimate with each other, period. I’ve tried and it
disgusts me. So you tell me, David, what could have possibly made it happen?”
He looked at the wall across the room. She was giving him a chance to explain, but he
didn’t know how. All he could do was make an attempt. “You realize it when you’re a
boy, the age when we begin to notice things about girls. Things that make us stare.
For some of us, the same thing happens when we look at other boys. That’s when the
conflict begins. We’re angry, confused, embarrassed. We’ve been told all our lives it’s
wrong. We suffer every negative emotion you can imagine. But in the end, we’re still
attracted to boys. If we’re gay, that attraction for girls doesn’t exist. But if we’re at-
tracted to both, we become men who dream of having a wife and a home and want to
grow old with the woman we love—you have men like me. You have those guys out
there. We’re born and we exist. Our biggest mistake is not telling the women who
marry us before they make that commitment.”
She listened to him, astonished. She had never heard him say anything so distinctly
heartfelt. He had taken the edge off something she hadn’t yet begun to understand. In
her heart she knew he was going to make her fall in love with him all over again,
despite her torn sensibilities and confusion.
“This attraction is so compelling you have to lie to your wife? You have to break her
heart and get in the hay with other men?”
“Any answer would sound trite or selfish.”
“Give it a try. Why couldn’t you just resist the temptation?”
His chest heaved painfully with a deep breath, making him aware of the ag-ony of
broken ribs. “Okay…” He winced with an attempt to shift his weight. “Call it a
weakness in my character or a stupid justification, but it makes sense to me. Before I
let it happen, I was falling apart. It nags at you constantly and interferes with your daily
life. Sometimes it seems you can’t think about anything else. You get everything you
need in a woman from your wife, and still something is missing. It’s a need. Not so
much for just sex, but you do have a need for an emotional and physical connection
with a man. The sex compliments one part of the equation, and satisfies the other.
You don’t feel complete without it. Being intimate naturally follows. It’s something you
need, but it’s also a way to express that part of you. I don’t know what a woman’s sex
drive feels like, but I assume it’s similar to a man’s. If it is, you can understand it has
the same power when it includes those of your own sex.
“Getting older seems to make it tougher to deal with. You not only want the physical
part, you want to know someone like you, to be around him and have someone to talk
to. I was beginning to believe I would live and die without experiencing something
important. And it almost never lets up. It’s like something’s gnawing at your insides,
unfulfilled. You see a man at the store or jogging down the street and you wonder if he’
s the kind of man you could share this part of your life with. And all the while you have
to deal with the conflicts involved. There were times I thought I was going crazy.” He
looked up at the ceiling, remembering the day it all started. “I decided to talk to James,
get it off my chest.” His eyes shifted to hers. “That’s when I found out he’s like me. We
realized we’ve been attracted to each other for years. It worried us. We thought it
would become irresistible. And it did. It seemed natural to give in. At first I thought if I
had someone to talk to it might help, but it went further. We figured if we let it happen,
the nagging inside would be resolved and our state-of-mind would go back to normal.
That worked, too, except for the guilt over lying to you and Shasha.”
“So that explains your behavior change last spring, when you quit walking around in a
daze ... and why you seemed reluctant to talk about the poker games.”
“I suppose it does.”
“James wasn’t spaced out like you were. Why was he suddenly disposed to give into
it?”
“I felt guilty about that, too. He was managing it better than me. I just wanted someone
to talk to, someone who knew and would accept me in spite of it. But he felt the same
way. It surfaced when I confessed. Anyway, he would have faced it eventually. It’s just
easier to suppress when your children are still living at home.”
“A wife still living at home isn’t reason enough to suppress it?”
A lump formed in his throat. “I can’t defend myself for that. I’ve asked the same
question a thousand times.”
She sat quietly for a moment, then said: “That’s why you’re still a shithead.”
“I know, honey. But I was born a shithead.”
“You and James having sex. It’s impossible to accept. I hate thinking about it.”
“Linda, it’s not disgusting. It’s human. You’ve been conditioned to think that way. It
may only affect a small percentage of men, but it still involves two human beings. I’ve
wondered the same thing myself: How can I be attracted to another man? The answer
is simple. I was born with something apparently most men aren’t, something only
another man can resolve. It’s part of the man you married, but it doesn’t determine the
success of our marriage or our happiness together.”
“So you find with these men the same thing I always thought you have with me?” she
said.
“No. Please understand, this is completely separate. My whole foundation is my life
with you. You’re everything I could possibly want in a wife. If I didn’t have you, I’d be out
there looking for you. This void doesn’t exist because a man finds his wife inadequate,
otherwise he’d seek out another woman. It’s just there. Men like to play golf with other
men. This is the same thing on another level. Like I said, it’s a need to be with
someone like yourself, another man, a guy you can identify with. It’s a feeling inside
that’s impossible to explain, but you know it’s there and it never goes away.”
He studied her troubled silence.
“Not easy to talk about, is it?” he said.
“No.”
“James is out there, too?”
“Yeah. Shasha called him.”
“How is he?”
“He looks like shit.”
David thought about the panic attacks James had suffered, thinking they must still be
plaguing him. “He took a two week leave-of-absence.”
“Why, so you two could roll in the hay while you’re kicked out of the house?” Her voice
had taken on an instant tinge of contempt.
David turned his head away from her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her tone changing to remorse just as suddenly as her anger had
flared.
He looked back at her. “I deserve anything you say.”
“No you don’t. I don’t know what you deserve just now, but not cruelty.”
“I love you, Linda.”
“I don't want to hear that, David. It sounds like you’re trying to play on my emotions.”
“Okay. I understand.” He smiled and changed the subject. “How is Shasha? How’s
she taking it?”
“Like me—not well.”
He regretted asking, wanting to avoid her quick mindset. She had not yet told him he
could come back home. He hoped time would mend her heart before anger had a
chance to prompt a hasty decision. And he was worried about James. Perhaps more
so than for his own plight. He figured Shasha would be even more unpredictable than
Linda under these circumstances. But then, evidently Sally turned out to be the least
predictable of them all. He could hardly believe that Linda had described her as
congenial, when he had envisaged a broken jaw for Jake.
Linda glanced at the door. “They all want to come in and see you.”
“Okay. I’m up to it.”
Standing in the middle of the waiting room, Jorge was talking to David’s doctor when
Linda returned. Everyone stood up, ready to go in.
“Thank-you Doctor,” said Jorge. “I guess we’ll go in and see him now.”
The doctor looked at the size of the group with concern. “This is too many people at
one time. I think ...”
“Oh yes,” said Jorge, interrupting him as he took a checkbook from his back pocket.
He wanted everyone to go into David’s room together, thinking it might somehow have
a healing effect. “I wanted to leave a little donation for the children’s wing while I’m here
tonight.” He wrote a quick check and handed it to the doctor.
The doctor glanced at the check, and then looked back at Jorge, jolted by a check
written for fifty thousand dollars.
Jorge smiled and asked: “Where did you say that room is, Doctor?”
Staring at the check, the doctor nodded toward the hall. “Room three-twelve,” he
replied absently.
Everyone followed Linda and Jorge to David’s room, where the eight of them gathered
around his bed. It was the first moment the women saw all five of their husbands
together since they had learned of their bisexuality. In their ongoing struggle to
comprehend the nature of the men they had married, a rekindled tension settled over
the room. The women glanced from one man to the next, at a complete loss to
understand how they could have become lovers.
They watched Tim kneel beside David’s bed and gently take the hand protruding from
the cast, the smile between two men now tainted with the women’s interpretive
thoughts.
“How are you, now that you’ve got your constitutional rights back?” David asked with
heartfelt affection.
Tim smiled and his brows lifted with relief in seeing David alive and well. “Tonight
we're more worried about you.”
David’s eyes moistened. He swallowed with a dry throat, addressing Tim as if he were
the only one in the room. “It’s not good when you wake up from something like that,
then realize you’re disappointed to still be alive.”
“Don’t say that, David!” Linda blurted. “Don’t ever say anything like that again.”
Tim looked at her. “He didn’t mean it.”
“I don’t want to hear you say it, either,” James said angrily, standing at the foot of the
bed.
“He’s depressed,” said Tim. “We all are.”
“Well I’m not,” said Sally, adding: “now that we know David didn’t go out and get
himself killed.”
Linda looked at her, incredulous. “Sally, you didn’t get mad when they risked their
necks in Mexico. Now you’re not mad when you find out your husband’s having sex
with other men! What’s up with you? Does Jake have a goddamned blank check?”
The man in the bed next to David’s sat up and scanned the group. Their heads turned
in unison. They looked at him for a moment, then turned again to resume the
conversation, as if none of them registered the fact that a complete stranger was
listening to everything said.
Jake spoke: “She’s known about me for four years. I had no idea.” He looked at Sally
as he continued. “I’m lucky to have her. She decided to accept it then, and she’s
forgiven me now.”
“You’re right, Jake,” said Linda with a mocking tone. “That’s pretty damn lucky.”
Sally had spent a lot of time thinking about the other wives since Jake confessed, trying
to think of a way to help defuse their anger before it influenced their decisions.
“Actually,” she said, “I was glad he finally got around to telling me about his little secret.”
“Little secret!” Shasha blurted.
Linda was still looking at Sally. “How did you find out about it four years ago?”
“I made the assumption when I found gay porno movies in his closet.”
“Dirty movies aren’t the same as actually doing it,” Linda replied. “Could’ve been
nothing more than curiosity.”
“Well, perhaps. It didn’t add up that way to me. I also assumed he might eventually act
on it.”
“So nothing he does can make you mad?” Shasha steamed.
The tension made Michelle uncomfortable. “She’s just dealing with it in her own way.
We have no right to judge her for that.”
“You know what pisses me off about Jake?” Sally answered in defense. “He leaves
wet towels laying around after a shower. And I have to pick up his dirty socks. A dozen
things are on that list. Sometimes it’s enough to drive you crazy. Those things bother
me because they’re lazy habits that he could do something about. This is different. If
he was put on this earth with a thing for men, who the hell am I to explain it or question
how some of us are put together? I’m not so sure I’m ready to get rid of him for
something he doesn’t control.”
“You don’t think he can control himself when he wants to get in bed with other men?”
Linda nearly shouted.
“It’s within my control to stop overeating, but I don’t,” Sally replied.
“Excellent analogy,” Linda retorted.
“Perhaps closer to the mark than you think.” Sally folded her arms, frustrated. Her
attempt to inspire a healing process had started badly.
“So here we are,” Shasha fumed, “talking about all of this out in the open. It’s turning
my stomach.”
“It might help to talk about it in the open,” said Michelle. “We may never understand
why it happened, but it may help to get it out and share our feelings.”
“Okay, Michelle,” said Shasha, irritated by her calm demeanor, “why don’t you share
your feelings.”
Michelle glanced at her husband before she relied. “I hate it as much as you do. I hate
the fact that it was in him to do it. But I love him. I can’t imagine that will ever change. If
you think about it, what Sally said makes sense. I thought I had a perfect husband, but
he has a flaw, or a weakness, or whatever you want to call it, but I’m not prepared to
give him up. After twenty-five years, he’s finally given me something to forgive him for.
And in spite of the fact it seems unforgivable, that’s what I’m trying to do.”
Shasha wasn’t about to be so understanding. “What is it, Michelle, his money?” she
said bitterly, angry that Michelle could forgive her husband for doing the same thing
James had done, when she herself could not, no matter how hard she had tried, no
matter how much, deep inside, she wanted to.
“You know me better than that, Shasha,” Michelle replied, offended. “I’ll forget you said
that because I know exactly how you feel.”
Silence followed.
Momentarily, Linda looked at Tim. “How is Rosemary dealing with it?”
Not expecting to be questioned, Tim was caught off guard. “I’m not sure. Don’t think
she knows how she’s gonna deal with it yet.”
Five men stood in awkward silence while their wives bantered their emotions for a
while longer, their eyes shifting as each of the women put forth their resentment. Then
Sally made a statement that ended the conversation.
“Why the hell are we in here getting mad at each other?”
“You’re mad? Funny, you don’t seem the slightest bit mad,” said Linda.
“Goddammit it, Linda! Would you give me a break? I went through this four years ago,
remember?” Sally paused to calm herself before she continued. “Look, we’re all here
tonight because David was in a car crash. He was lucky enough to survive. Why don’t
we focus on that? Get him a Rubik’s Cube or something so he can pass the time while
he’s here.”
“I agree,” said Michelle. “We could’ve lost him.”
“So you’re just going on with your life as if nothing happened?” Linda asked.
“Try anyway. …Listen, let’s give our emotions time to settle. Maybe we could meet at
your house, Linda. Next Saturday perhaps. Maybe by then we can sort this out. Our
friendship means a great deal to me. We’re all in the same boat here. It might help if
we work on it together. Friendship and marriage is too important to simply throw away.”
After a few moments of consideration, the other women warmed to the suggestion with
a nod. The men, standing in a near stupor, watched them file out of the room. Then
James looked at David and stepped over to his side. He leaned in and kissed David’s
forehead just below the bandage, then reached out to stroke the side of his face.
“You scared me tonight,” he said.
“I’ll be all right.”
“At least it looks like they’re trying to forgive us.”
“Yeah. Maybe we’re luckier than we thought.”
“I’ll come to see you tomorrow afternoon.”
Jorge stepped forward to take David’s hand. “Good to see you made it through that
one.”
“Which one is that, the wreck or telling Linda about us?”
Jorge laughed. “Think we made a mistake by telling them?”
“I can’t believe that, Jorge. Lying to her would have eventually ruined me. It seems
Michelle is taking it well.”
“I’m still holding my breath. She never overreacts before thinking something through.
I'm hoping she doesn’t decide she can’t live with it in the end.”
David looked at Jake. “Sure looks like it went well for you, buddy.”
“Yeah. I still can’t believe it. I thought you guys would be visiting me here.”
“I got the impression Sally’s trying to smooth things out.”
“I think she is. She’s worried it might destroy our friendship.”
“Let’s hope not, Jake. Maybe she had a good idea. Things might start falling into
place by the time we get together Saturday.”
“David,” said James, now standing at the foot of the bed, “we should go so you can get
some rest.”
“It must look like I need it.”
He smiled with affection. “I wouldn’t look in the mirror for a couple of days.”
The four of them started for the door.
“Hang in there, James,” David called out.
James turned in the doorway and looked at him for a moment before turning to leave.
Stress still filled his dark eyes.
♦ ♦ ♦
Linda and Shasha met for lunch on Greenville Avenue the next day. The waiter had
taken their orders and had just delivered two glasses of wine. After finally getting a few
hours sleep, their perspectives were somewhat less emotional. Both knew no one had
a perfect marriage, but theirs had flown completely apart. Staring at her glass of wine,
her hand resting on the table, Linda placed her fingers on the stem without picking it up.
Shasha noticed an older man escorting a busty young receptionist-type to a table
across the room. She also noticed his wedding band and her lack of one. “It would’ve
been easier to catch James screwing a bimbo like that one over there. At least it
would be easier to understand.”
Linda turned and followed her gaze. “You can bet that’s a lot more common than what
we’re dealing with.” She stared at the mismatched couple for a moment. “It’s funny, I
really believe David wouldn’t be tempted to do something like that. He wouldn’t want to
face worming out of a situation so blatantly juvenile.” She turned back and stared at the
wine glass in thought. The deep purple color seemed to have a soothing affect.
“I wouldn’t want to predict what either one of them would do.” Shasha sighed with
frustration, not at all comfortable with her newfound contempt for men. “I called Michelle
this morning,” she said with a touch of remorse in her voice.
Linda’s eyes lifted.
“I wanted to apologize for the way I talked to her yesterday,” Shasha explained. “Can’t
believe I said those things.”
“Well, I don’t want to be held responsible for anything I said yesterday. I’m sure
Michelle understood.”
“She did, and I agree with what she said over the phone. Since she’s trying to forgive
her husband, she believes it might have seemed like she was condoning what he did. I
guess in a way it did. But it’s affected her as severely as it has us. I don’t think
Michelle’s at all certain how she plans to deal with it in the long run.”
“Is there a way to deal with it?” Linda asked.
“No,” Shasha said, a little too quickly Linda thought. “I can’t imagine sharing the same
bed with him, not now.”
“That’s understandable.”
Shasha looked at her with a tilt of her head. “You don’t feel the same way?”
Linda released a long sigh. “There’s a side to David no one ever sees. He’s
extremely sensuous. He makes love with a lot of passion. Sometimes it’s almost like
he’s a different person. I know the difference. I screwed a few guys in college, and I
can tell you, there’s a difference between getting screwed and being devoured. A man
can’t make love that way unless he’s attracted to you. I suppose I can see how
someone like that can be attracted to all of humanity.”
Shasha stared at her for a moment, speechless. “You’re gonna forgive him, aren’t
you?”
“God help me, Shasha.” Linda blotted the corner of her eye with her napkin. “With all
my heart, that’s exactly what I’m trying to do. But how? When I think about what he’s
done, all the deceit and lies, him being with a man, I feel exactly the same way you do.
Then I think about what my life would be like without him and I realize that seems even
worse. There’s more to it than loving someone. It’s knowing there’s no chance of
finding someone you can love that much.”
Linda paused in thought before she continued. “I was so mad when I kicked his ass
out I thought I could shoot him. Since then, I don’t know exactly why, I’ve had a
desperate need to find out what caused it to happen. There’s some-thing between
David and James that seems to have a profound effect on them. I want to find out
what's inside him that makes him different.”
“It’s pretty simple to me, Linda. The man made some wedding vows that I take
seriously. They didn’t include lying and jumping into bed with other men.”
Linda studied her friend for a moment. Like the mysterious facial expressions of her
art, it seemed her position was set in stone. “I just wish I could be where Sally is on all
of this. It’s not like she’s so insecure that she has to settle for anything her husband
imposes on her. It’s more like she’s got some super-human capacity to figure
something out and accept it as part of life.”
Shasha rolled her eyes. “She and I are free to accept whatever we wish. I don’t accept
it.”
Linda’s eyes shifted to the wine glass. It frightened her to see her best friend letting go
of her marriage, which is exactly what it seemed like she was doing. She knew the
other wives weren’t prepared to make that decision, and she wondered if their
example might help her and Shasha to avoid the wrong path. “Wonder how Rosemary
is coping with it.”
Shasha pictured the dedicated young mother. “I don’t think she’s insecure either, but I
can’t see her ever leaving Tim. She’s more the type who once she’s married, that’s it,
no matter what. She’d sacrifice her entire life trying to resolve a troubled marriage.”
“Yeah. I see that, too. Then you have to consider Tim. Getting mad at him is like
getting mad at a little boy for chasing his ball into the street. Shit, he looks good
enough to eat. Quite a package. I feel wicked just thinking about him.”
Shasha finally smiled. “I have to confess—I’ve wondered what he’d be like in bed,
myself.”
The topic suddenly returned Linda’s calm back to frustration. “Well our husbands
know, don’t they?” she said, an angry thought muttered out loud.
Shasha’s smile disappeared. They sat quietly for a moment, determined to not let
anger ruin lunch.
“Are the girls at your mother’s today?” Linda asked.
“Yeah. They’re trying to figure out what’s going on. Just more for me to worry about,
that bastard. How do you tell your daughters their father is queer?”
“Does your mother know?”
Shasha snorted contempt. “Yes, I made the stupid mistake of telling her.”
“Mistake?”
“James has always been her wonder-boy. Mother’s trying to figure out how it’s my
fault.” Shasha looked down and shook her head with exasperation. “She asked me
this morning if I’ve been attentive to his needs.” She looked back up. “Can you believe
that?”
Linda’s brows lifted in sympathy.
“Anyway,” Shasha went on, “I have something I want to tell you about. I talked to Mr.
Pritchard on the phone last night. He’s the man who owns the gallery over on
McKinney Avenue. You know, the guy that’s been wanting to represent my work. I’ve
decided to do it.”
“You’re kidding!” Linda wondered why this came about just now.
“A couple of months ago he called to let me know a New York gallery is interested in
my sculptures. I can’t think of the name, but you know the one I’m talking about. We
went in when we were shopping in Soho.”
Linda’s eyes widened. “Oh, yeah! The one with the African art. Shasha, that’s
wonderful.”
“I was flattered, but not ready to commit. He’s pretty excited I changed my mind. He
called again this morning and told me my smaller pieces would bring two to ten
thousand dollars each. The life-size pieces would bring twenty to forty thousand.”
“I’m happy for you, girl.”
The prospect had certainly lifted Shasha’s spirits. Linda wondered if selling her art had
something to do with her new circumstances.
Shasha ignored the curiosity all over Linda’s face. She kept the conversation and her
train of thought on her art work. “I’ve always wanted to accomplish something on my
own. Figured the time would come after the girls quit being so dependant on their
mother’s constant attention. It’s time. If people are interested in my art, it doesn’t
matter to them if I didn’t finish college. And since I don’t have to worry about making
money, I can work at any pace I want.”
Linda tried to hide her concern. It definitely sounded like Shasha intended to be on her
own. Linda exhaled a long breath as she leaned over the table to prop her chin atop
her fist. “Are you going to leave him, Shasha?”
Linda’s question put Shasha back on the verge of tears. She closed her eyes as if she
were not quite ready to say the words, for saying them would make the decision all too
real.
♦ ♦ ♦
Linda went to the hospital after lunch. On the way, she stopped by the office to check
with Betty. The staff seemed perplexed over David’s longer than expected absence,
but things were trucking along smoothly. Linda picked up David’s laptop in case he
wanted to work or play games. He had just finished a bowl of soup when she pushed a
chair next to the bed.
“How are you today?” she asked, making room on the night table for the laptop.
“Never knew I could hurt in so many places at the same time,” he said, his jaw tight as
he adjusted his weight.
She straightened the sheet, then looked directly at him. “I don’t want to share you,
David.”
She watched a kind of uneasiness come into his eyes.
“That’s what you’d like to ask me to do, isn’t it?” she asked.
He knew the question was inevitable, dreading it nearly as much as confessing his
bisexuality. His chest tightened, his hands found nothing to do.
“David, is that what you’re planning?”
The question settled over him like toxic radiation. Fleeting thoughts about having to
give up James had been part of the misery of the last couple of days, but those
thoughts had been far too painful to dwell over. Her question made the prospect of
never again laying with his lover very real. The alternative: watching the woman he had
been married to for twenty years turn and walk out of the room.
He had laid awake much of the night thinking about their marriage, all the dreams they
shared of growing old together. Clearly, he realized he could lose her. Nothing else he
would have to face could be nearly so painful. He could not let that happen or even
allow for the possibility. “Not if it means losing you,” he said with resolve.
“So the burden is on me!” she said hatefully.
“Honey, I can’t pretend. I told you how I feel about him. If you can’t accept that … if you
can’t allow him to be part of my life, I’ll walk away from him.”
She turned her head with frustration and stared angrily across the room.
He continued: “The truth is I would give up anything to keep you. Nothing has ever
scared me as much as the thought of losing you. I would avoid seeing the others. I
would see James for business reasons only, or find a new attorney. I would quit seeing
him altogether if you didn’t feel comfortable with our friendship. There’s nothing I
wouldn’t do. When we’re eighty-five years old, I want you there, helping me up the step.”
She turned to him. “And in the meantime, you’ll live with what you’re telling me is a void
in your life?”
“Yes.”
“Can’t you see a psychologist?”
“It’s not a psychological problem. A man can’t be convinced he’s not who he is. I’m
bisexual. I can’t pretend I’m not. I’ve tried that and it only led to frustration. I don’t have
to spend time with James or the others, but I have to have you love me for who I am.”
“So my choice is to share you with your male lover, or live with a husband who has an
emotional void, who’ll end up blaming me for what’s missing in his life?”
“That’s not how to define your choice. I’ll never blame you. How could I when I know it’s
outrageous to think you should accept my involvement with James. All I ask is that you
love me for who I am. I don’t understand it any better than you do, but I know how
powerful it is. I can admit to you now that the desire to be with a man can be
consuming, even more so since my feelings for James are so strong. So it’ll be difficult
sometimes, but less so if you and I are getting through it together. To me, it’s worth it. I
need you. I want nothing more than know I have you forever.” He paused, and then
added: “There’s something else I’ve realized. Even though I’m worried I’m going to
lose you, I’ve never felt closer to you than I do right now. Knowing that you know. Being
able to talk to you about it. You can’t imagine how important that is.”
She could hardly speak. “God, I love you so much,” she cried.
A long silence passed as Linda stared at the half-full glass of orange juice on the tray-
stand over David’s lap. For her, there were so many complications to muddle through,
it was painful and confusing. For David, it was black and white—he would do anything
to keep his wife.
“You had lunch with Shasha today?” he asked after a while.
“Yes.”
“How’s she doing?”
Her expression changed to concern. “I hope I’m wrong about what I think I saw today.”
She stopped abruptly, struck again by the gravity of Shasha’s apparent plans. David’s
brow furrowed as he waited for her to continue. Their eyes met. “I think she’s planning
to leave James.”
“What?”
“She didn’t say it outright, but she knew I had that impression and she didn’t say
anything to make me think otherwise. It’s devastating, but I don’t think she can forgive
him.”
“She hasn’t had enough time to make that decision,” he replied.
“That’s your opinion, David.”
He looked up at the ceiling, his expression tight with concern. If anyone could predict
what Shasha might do, it would be Linda. He feared for James, not sure he could deal
with losing his wife. Just the possibility had wrecked his peace-of-mind and launched
those panic attacks. He and James both knew there would be huge difficulties to work
through, that they would probably have to give up something important; but down deep
they believed their marriages would endure. Now things seemed to be spinning out of
control; and he knew, though she seemed to be working through it, that his own wife
had not yet made up her mind about their future.
“I know you think what you’ve done isn’t infidelity, but you’re kidding yourself. It is. This
form is just harder to deal with. Do you have a clue what it’s like to think you know the
person you’re married to, and then find out you don’t?”
“But you do. I haven’t changed. I’m still the same man.”
“No you’re not! I suddenly find out you’re bisexual. You’re sneaking around and telling
me lies. That’s not the man I knew. On top of that, you did it with a friend of mine, my
best friend’s husband, for godsake!”
David shuddered inwardly. He couldn’t bear standing on such thin ice. “Please
believe me, I do understand how you feel about that; but isn’t it important to you, even if
it was just in our minds, that we weren’t being unfaithful, that we were responding to
something apart from you and Shasha?”
“I don’t know.”
He could see in her eyes her struggle with his perspective.
“Sally is totally comfortable with it,” said Linda. “Wish I knew how she got there.”
“Linda ... I’m worried about James. It looked like he was thinking about suicide when
Shasha kicked him out. That was the main reason I wanted him to stay with me.”
“You’re not serious!”
“I am serious. I really don’t know how he’ll deal with it.”
Linda’s brow lifted with concern. “You wouldn’t consider something like that, would
you?”
“I can’t claim to know the hurt I’ve caused you, but I know mine. I live with it everyday.
Sometimes it seems like I was born with a defective brain that makes me different from
everyone else. It makes me feel like I don’t de-serve your love or real happiness.
When I spent time with James and the others, we made each other feel normal. We
thought we could go on from there and be the men we wanted to be, the husbands we
wanted to be. The side effect is guilt, and what you and I are going through now. I feel
like a fuckup.”
“All of that is exactly what I’m trying to understand, but it didn’t answer my question.”
He took her wrist in his hand. “Honey, just love me. Just always love me. Your love
gives me more strength than you know. Love me, and let’s live the second half of our
lives together.”
She finally smiled. “Now that was a better answer.” She looked at him a moment,
wincing as she scanned his bandages and cast. Her eyes met his with another
question. “David, do you feel sorry for yourself?”
“No ... Well, if you mean because of these aches and pains from the crash, yes. If you
mean about being bisexual, usually no. There’s a very positive side to it, but I’m not
sure you’re ready to hear what it is.”
“I don’t want you to keep anything from me, whether I’m ready to hear it or not.”
“Fair enough,” he said, pausing to consider his answer. “Say you enjoy looking at a
Renoir painting and you also enjoy listening to Mozart. Then you’re told something is
wrong with you because Society’s moral code says you can’t enjoy both. Yet you feel
lucky that you like both the painting and the music. You want both in your life; even if
society dictates you should be drawn to one or the other. That’s what it’s like being
bisexual. On one hand, it’s a beautiful and natural part of life; on the other, it’s a curse.
How I feel about James feels natural to me, but that’s considered irrelevant, especially
since I’m married, so I have to learn to deal with it. The price of losing you otherwise is
way too high.”
She looked at him as if the analogy had helped her understand. “You’re not going to
lose me.”
His jaw went tight and he closed his eyes with a swallow. A moment later he opened
them and said: “That’s what I feared I’d never hear you say.”
“I love you, David. It’s that damn simple.”
“Have you’re feelings for James changed?”
Her gaze shifted thoughtfully to the chrome stand holding his IV bag; then she said:
“That question isn’t so simple.”
“It’s not like you hate him or hold him responsible for what I did, is it?”
“No. But he’s taken part of you and I hate feeling jealous. I really hate that. I’ve always
loved James and Shasha. I still do.” She paused and shook her head. “This is one
goddamned shitty set of circumstances. I feel like I’m stuck on an emotional
rollercoaster. All I know is I can’t toss my love in trash just because there’s a difficult
bridge to cross.”
“Can I come home?”
“Can you give up your lover?”
“I already have. Can I keep my best friend?”
“No more poker?”
“No more.”
“I’m not over this yet,” she warned him. “Right now I’m relieved, but I’m still confused
and pissed-off.”
“I understand.”
She reached out and took his hand. “Then don’t even think about going any place else.”
He closed his eyes and released a long breath. The cherished feel of his hand in hers
sent shivers down the back of his neck.
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