Learning How to Live - 2. Rain

Cheryl lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. She'd managed to get dressed for bed without waking the softly snoring toddler sleeping on the day bed against the other wall. Her arm was draped across her forehead and she gently spun the heavy bit of decorative cardstock that has started this mess across her fingers. She'd found it in the breast pocket of one of her husband's old work shirts that she was preparing to donate with a load of baby clothing and other stuff that they'd lost the need for. She wouldn't have given the peach colored, gilded business card any thought at all but for the red laden lip print suggestively marked across the corner, the lingering hint of perfume, and the sprawling loops of the note on the back. The card was obviously an invitation that the owner didn't expect to be declined and didn't think needed to be explained either.

She grimaced at the gall of whoever this woman was, this 'Mitsy' said the print and signature on the card. She'd called the number and found that it had been disconnected. She'd checked the address to find that the office and the building that housed it had changed hands about a year ago. She'd even thought about going to pull the tax records but, by then, it was obvious that tracking down this person was just a distraction to satisfy her pride, rather than confronting the idiot of a man who would fall for this sort of thing.

When she'd called Jared while he was on his lunch break at work, she'd already gone through the couple of jackets in the closets to confirm that she could smell the remnants of the same perfume on a couple of the man's things. It wasn't conclusive for it all but she wasn't really in doubt; it was as clear as day to her now that she was looking at it when the affair had taken place. Her husband was just too much of the honest sort to hide much from her; she'd been preoccupied with work at the time so she hadn't been watching him or she'd have known then. His voice when she'd confronted him over the phone had only paused long enough for a heavy, halting sigh before he'd simply admitted that it had happened.

A soft laugh escaped her lips while she pictured herself staring at the phone after she'd hung up on the man; there was no devastation; there hadn't been any tears: she'd walked up to the master bedroom and packed a gym bag for herself before going to Greg's room to back a bag for him too. She'd texted Roan to ask if she could spend a couple of nights and then drove to Greg's daycare center and waited in the parking lot with a large drive-thru coffee and a book until her normal pickup time before heading over to here. She still hadn't cried and, to be honest, she wasn't even sure that she felt tears were in order. She'd only been angry - disgusted, really, with herself for pulling away from the day to day of her marriage to let something so blatant happen under her nose. She was angry with Jared for breaking his commitment, for hiding it - she snorted - so badly. She'd only told Roan what happened at dinner; he'd opened his home to her and Greg without question from the moment she asked.

The twirling card stopped as she frowned into her arm. She was really lucky; they were really lucky to have Roan around. He was always trying to keep the peace and he was always out to help. He even threw himself into being an uncle of sorts with abandon and her son, it seemed, couldn't be happier with the arrangement.

She turned over and placed the card on the nightstand and frowned as she looked out the window. She'd seen the scuffle the boys had on the driveway. She'd seen the look on her husband's face when we saw the redness on the other man's ear; all the anger had vanished and he'd just hugged his knees to himself from the ground as he looked at Roan. Jared had never been much the violent sort but he was capable of it; he'd never even come close to threatening her or their son in the years they'd been together. He'd looked hurt...horrified when he saw the redhead's ear turning an angry beet red.

With a long, heavy breath, She wiped a hand over her face, and curled up to the pillow she'd pulled under the blankets with her. It had been a very long day and she had enough.

---

"Morning, mommy!" Greg squealed from his chair at the little plastic kids' table by the kitchen entrance way.

She squatted down behind him and kissed the side of his face. "What are you eating? Did Uncle Red make you breakfast?" She played her fingers through the burnished orange tips of the little boy's hair. His hair grew out black but she loved the way being out in the sun bleached the ends of it to a burnt orange brown color.

"Yeah. B'na pancakes!" He shoved a laden fork up into the air to dispel all doubt or as a testament to triumph, she wasn't sure. He leaned his head back to kiss her cheek as she scrunched up her face to accept the sticky kiss. The ever-excited by breakfast child resumed his dipping and nibbling of the bite on his fork as she stood and walked into the kitchen proper.

Roan was standing at the stove frying smoked sausage links in a cast iron pan; he was wearing a pair of camo pants and white t-shirt in a pair of hiking boots that he liked to wear around the house. "Hey lady, good morning. There's sausage, pancakes, with or without bananas, and some orange slices. How do you want your eggs?" He hadn't looked up from the pan so she didn't bother to hold her scowl for him to see.

"What's a proper woman supposed to do to get a decent cup of coffee to appear before all but my son greets me in the morning?" She put her hands on her hips and slid past him to the fridge.

Roan laughed and glanced at her from the side. "You know the drill, the coffee pot is on the rack in the cabinet. The coffee and filters are in the drawer corner."

"Yes, I know the drill. What I am asking is how I can get all of that to happen and magically bless me with nothing but the hot mug of sunshine I so desperately deserve." She smiled as she took the creamer out and grabbed the coffee pot to carry over to the counter.

"That thing has a timer; you could set it the night before," he quipped from his pan.

She snorted. "You'll never get that Michelin star for this place with an attitude like that! Two, over medium, please."

"You got it," he said as he slid over to the fridge to grab the eggs. She found her favorite mug hanging from under the peninsula cabinet and dropped a measure of creamer into before filling the carafe in the sink. Once she had the machine setup and started, she skated past Roan and dropped the creamer back in the fridge on her way out of the kitchen. She rubbed Greg's head again as she walked to the far side of the counter top and took a seat in one of the chairs situated there.

Roan's kitchen was a labor of love; the morning sun was already streaming through the picture window of the dining room and the french doors of the living room into the open space. She put her elbows up onto the bar and rested her chin in her hands as she looked around the room fondly. The kitchen was longer than it was deep and an open area that was defined by the peninsula that closed in the pantry way and nearly everything but the large double refrigerator and separate upright freezer that stood in the corner of the room and the entryway to the kitchen workspace. The counter surface was polished concrete with stainless steel inlays at various places to hold hot or cold items. It had three levels of counter top for work, serving, and seating with each located at a different height. Jared, Roan, and a few of his other friends had poured the surface last summer and she had to admit that they'd done a spectacular job of it. The charcoal tint worked well against the oak cabinets hanging from above it.

She smiled as she glanced over to watch Roan finishing off the sausage and wiping out the pan before starting her eggs in the same pan. He was in his element and the kitchen looked, well, like what it was, built for him; the man loved to cook for people but wasn't especially social or talkative in groups of people so when he'd designed it, he'd aimed to create a space where he could work and host while people could sit comfortably and interact with him. They'd outdone themselves and he looked like he had been born in there. She stood on the rungs of her chair as she reached across the counter and swapped her mug under the trickle of coffee from the machine before resting on her elbows as she waited for it to fill.

"Unke Red?" Greg called out from his table.

"Yeah, buddy? What's up?" Roan looked over his shoulder at her son without stopping as he cracked the first of her eggs into the pan.

"Can I have-"

"May I have," she called out from her perch.

The child turned to look at her before frowning thoughtfully and licking his lips. "May I have more?" His arms rose to either side of his head with his inflection as he finished and waited. She giggled to herself watching the physicality of speech in action on her little boy. He was a joy that she could never have imagined, she thought as she sat back with her mug after replacing the carafe on the machine.

"Sure thing, buddy. Do you want more pancakes or cheesy eggs or can I get you to try some sausage?" Roan glanced at the stove as he tossed the egg shell into the sink from where he stood and picked up her second egg. He turned back to her son to see the boy look up at the ceiling and pinch the fingers of his hands together as he considered what he wanted.

"Um. Ch'zey eggs and b'na pancakes, please!" He hands in fists of triumph over his head said it all; she had to catch herself from sloshing her mug as she laughed under her breath.

"OK, kiddo. Give me a second to finish mommy's eggs."

"OK," Greg lowered his hands and began swinging his feet and dancing a little in his chair. She set her elbows on the counter and blew on her mug as she watched Roan over top of it. He grabbed a little pan hanging from a bar beside the bank of ovens to make another set of eggs. Roan worked efficiently and easily as he shifted back and forth from working preparation and managing the pan. He was a stocky guy; his arms, shoulders, and back stretched the t-shirt nicely and she could see the little shadows of his shoulders through the shirt as he went about his tasks. She smiled wryly as she continued to look down the man's back appraisingly. The canvas of his pants was snug around his thighs and his prominent butt was damn near the man's best feature in her opinion - the material was tight enough you could even see the dimples when he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Quit staring at my butt."

A smirk crossed her face as she looked up at the back of his head. She could hear the smile in his voice but he hadn't shifted his attention from what he was doing. "Who said I was staring at your butt?" She laughed and flashed her teeth against the edge of her mug as she took a sip. "Just because you have no shame and flaunt that thing to tease all the women of the world, doesn't mean we have to always be staring at it."

He straightened his posture a bit. "I am not flaunting it!" He made as if to sound scandalized, "I'm not some piece of meat-"

"You're not just some piece of meat," she corrected him before raising her eyebrows and sipping loudly.

He harrumphed and she could see his smile in profile as he reached to plate her eggs. "I can't help it if they don't make pants for short, bottom heavy guys." His green eyes danced as he turned and slid her plate onto the serving level of the counter and set her silverware beside it.

"Thank you. And, yes, you can. You could have the common decency to wear baggy clothes like every other hoodlum out there." She moved her food down to her side and started to dig in.

"You're welcome. They don't make baggy pants for midgets - believe me, I've looked." He'd turned back to plate Greg's food. He squatted at the table as he set the food in front of the excited kid. "Here you go, sir, cheesy eggs and a banana pancake."

"Thank you!" fists of triumph Greg proclaimed as he beamed. The look of easy affection on the man's face painted quite a picture and she paused her cutting to let the unbalancing feeling of gratefulness slosh around in her chest as she glanced at them. Roan rubbed her son's head as he turned back to clean up the kitchen.

"So what are your plans today? Did we inter-" she began.

"Stop it. You aren't interrupting anything; the dance card of the perpetual monk remains remarkably free of ink." Again, he hadn't looked up from his putting the food away and clearing the stove but the set of his shoulders was clearly annoyed. "I think my buddy over there and I are going to head to the petting zoo in town and then we'll come back to let Picasso play with markers on the deck while I mow the yard."

She took another bite of her egg and considered the sweet citrus-herbal note in it; she didn't know what herb it was but it was quite good. "These eggs are excellent. Thank you, again, for having us over." He grunted as he wiped down the stainless steel front of the stove; the man never could take a compliment or thanks. "Since you boys are going to the park, I'm going to take a mental health day." He nodded from his work. "Roan?" She put her fork down and sat up. His hands stopped. "Honey, look at me."

He glanced up quickly before putting the kitchen rag down and turning to stand and meet her gaze. "Yeah?"

"What's on your mind? Why are you upset with me?" She knew he was trying to push something aside but it was obviously big enough to leave him avoiding looking her in the face. She furrowed her brow and waited for him to stop rubbing his head; she noticed how his hand pulled back gingerly when it bumped his ear where he'd been hit last night.

"The conversation last night," His eyes darted up and around the room and he seemed to inflate himself and hold it before he looked back at her. "was-ah a little unexpected. I-ah, don't know how to take all of the things you said. I tried to let it go but...," he trailed off.

"Ah. Listen, I don't think anything is going on between you and my husband. I was upset about all of the secrets I feel laying in plain sight - the stuff we don't talk about but feels like tacks on the floor to me. This thing with Jared is one of them but I know of others. He isn't the most accepting person; he only has a handful of friends, a few family, and us.” She paused until he nodded that he understood. “You are a different thing entirely from the other people in his life - He even holds you closer than his brothers. I'm not threatened by it, now, anymore than I am threatened by my son; however, I know my husband and he holds you as close to family as he does me." She looked at him for a moment; his body was still braced against whatever it was he thought she was going to say.

"He's lucky to have you. Most of us, myself included, don't have a confidant in quite as special of a seat as you do with him; it's hard to label and it is harder still to really understand it from watching the two of you." He was back to rubbing his hand over the back of his head and shifting his gaze from her down to the counter and back. She rubbed her middle finger back and forth on her forehead for a moment. "I don't think you two understand the risks you represent to each other - I don't think you know how you hurt each other. The kind of connection you two have deserves more respect than I think either of you can admit...though I think you are slower than he is." She looked at him until he held her gaze. "I don't want either of you to get hurt and you've hurt each other before." He frowned a little but nodded. "I've said my peace: Think about it." He visibly deflated as he let go of whatever air he'd been holding onto.

"I will." He half-smiled at her and nodded again slowly. She lifted her chin in acknowledgement and went back to her food. After a few moments, he walked over to her son and picked up the boy to his hip with one arm and walked his dishes over to the sink. "Now, let's get my buddy cleaned up and get out to the zoo!" he said with his smile inches from Greg's nose as he parked him on the counter and grabbed a clean cloth from a stack in the corner.

---

An hour and a half later and she was in luck; she'd managed to book an appointment with her favorite spa and her hairstylist for the afternoon. She was rummaging through her bag to make sure she had clothes for the gym and her headphones before she threw her bag over her shoulder and headed out to the garage. She found Roan strapping Greg into the car seat of his car.

"What can I bring to go with dinner tonight?" He stood and seemed to think for a moment.

"A couple of bottles of red wine, table or Tempranillo would be great, and some limes." He returned to checking the straps and connections holding her son like some test pilot into the back seat of the dark blue sedan. She grabbed the door from Roan as he stood up; he made his way around the car and got in while she kissed her son on the forehead.

"Have a good time, sweetie." She ran her fingers through his hair.

"OK, mommy." He looked up at her with his hazel eyes and she smiled at him.

"And, Roan," She looked over at him as he got situated. "tell Jared he can stop trying to blow up my phone; I've blocked him. I will see him at the house tomorrow afternoon, probably about one-o'clock." Roan's face shifted in surprise for a moment. She smirked at him. "I'm not just a pretty face. And," she waited for him to turn his head to look her in the eye and lowered her voice, "promise me that Gregory comes home with you." The man took on a pained expression and didn't speak for a moment.

He nodded, "I promise."

---

Roan pulled up into a parking spot near the park playground. It was a cool, sunny day and he could see the trees swaying with a pretty strong breeze. There weren't a huge number of families at the park but it wasn't empty either. He pushed the engine stop on the car and got out to walk around to Greg's door. "Hey buddy, you ready to see some animals?" The kid laughed and shouted excitedly. He smiled to himself and let the corners of his mouth fall a bit as he thought about what he'd promised. "OK, I'll get you out in just a minute; I need to speak with someone first. Can you stay here and give me a minute? I'll be right back and you'll be able to see me the whole time, OK?" A hazel scowl glared back at him and started to complain. "I promise buddy, it will only take a minute and then you can have all the animal time you want."

"...and sand." He frowned for a moment at the child's scowling face; it hadn't been a question. He laughed and kissed the top of the child's head.

"Grrr. OK, Greg, you win. You can half all of the animal time and all of the sand time you want, if you let me go talk for a moment. Deal?" A very stern set of eyes nodded at him with all the seriousness a three-year-old could muster. "Alright, deal. I will be right back; holler if you need anything but give me a minute to talk." Roan stood up and stretched his back as he turned around. He walked down towards the bench facing the sandbox of the playground and stopped a few feet from the rather gloomy looking man sitting on it.

"Hey Jared." The man stood up to face him with a bright expression on his face. He looked over Roan's shoulder to see that Gregory was still in his car seat a few tens of yards away; he's face darkened and he looked back at Roan; his eyes were already hardening with anger.

"What the he-" his voice was low and graveled.

"Easy man, I just need to talk for a minute first, OK?" Jared stood up to his full height, trying for all the world to be intimidating. It worked. He crossed his arms across his chest and waited expectantly. "Cheryl made me promise that I'd make sure Greg came back to my house tonight - with me." Roan looked at the big man before continuing; Jared's chest was visibly tightening as he controlled whatever he wanted to say. "She also said that she would meet with you tomorrow, at your place, after lunch around one. OK?" He held his hands together in front of himself and hoped that Jared wouldn't lose it.

"I understand that she and I will meet. I do not like that I am being told what I can see of my own son." Jared could be quite clear when he was angry and right now he was clearly pissed.

Roan sighed. "Look big man, I am not trying to keep your son from you; it was my idea to bring him."

"So why, then, did you tell her??" Jared spat the words.

Roan looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "In what lifetime has anything ever slipped past that woman when she was looking? I didn't tell her anything." Jared grunted but continued to radiate hostility. "I need you to promise me that you will let him come home with me tonight."

They argued in low voices for a few moments but, eventually, Roan walked back to the car to get Greg out of his car seat.

"Daddy!" Greg squealed and turned in Roan's arms as he handed the overjoyed boy over to his father.

He stood back to watch as Jared kissed, squeezed, and spun the boy in his arms. He sighed and rubbed his neck. "Listen, I'm going to go for a walk. Meet me here when you guys are ready, no rush." Jared looked at him awkwardly and nodded shortly at him. Roan's chest was tight and his stomach was deeply unhappy with him as he headed up the sidewalk toward the park's trail entrance.

---

Jared stared down his nose at the redhead; his chest hurt and he was clenching his jaw so tight that his teeth hurt. "You wanna say that again?" They'd been talking low enough to keep from disturbing the kids playing in the playground behind him but the longer this carried on the less Jared cared who heard him.

"Give me your keys, phone, and wallet." The man's green eyes looked up at him with determination and Jared could see him working his jaw as the smaller man squared his shoulders.

Jared took a step toward Roan, his hands were out at his side as he stepped into man's space. "I can't believe this! I am not a criminal!" He couldn't even say what got him more, waiting like a spy to spend an afternoon with his son or that Roan really meant to treat him like some sort of inmate. "Why are the two of you acting like this?? This whole mess happened months ago. Hell, I think it was over a year ago. He's my son - Do you not get that?! I don't care how upset she is; it doesn't give her the right to take my son!" his voice cracked at the end of his sentence.

Roan frowned and rubbed his neck. "I don't know the details. All I know is that I gave my word and you're really upset right now - I can't believe you showed up at my house after I told you to stay your," He glanced at the kids behind where Jared was standing and sighed loudly. "behind home. I told you they were at my house and that they were safe." The man was pulling at his short hair with his fingers now. "So you do what? You decided to get just drunk enough to stumble into my driveway to force yourself inside? To piss her off more?? To wake your kid up to see his parents screaming in the front yard? Did you think at all!?" His scowl said a lot about whose side he was on.

Jared made a fist and listened to the pop as his tendons snapped over the joints of his fingers. He wanted to pick the man up and shake him until the world went back to making sense. "Great. You take her side and I just get to stand alone as the villain. What kind of friend doesn't even give me a chance to explain? That really hurts."

Roan made an exasperated noise in his nose. "Don't. I'm not taking anyone's side; I'm just trying to keep my word and keep this crap from getting any worse - Do you hear yourself?? What are you going to explain? She said you already admitted that you did it - Hell, you just admitted it yourself."

"Yeah, but I didn't mean it to turn out like this. I never mea-" he started to object.

"It doesn't really matter what you meant it to be; you know as well as I do that you broke your word and, probably worse, you made her look stupid." He shook his head in wonder. "If there is one thing that woman hates, it's to lose. You know how bad this makes her look??" He laughed; the noise carried no humor at all. "If I had known when she came over what had happened, I would have fully expected her to drop Greg over and turn right around to get rid of the body." He rubbed his knuckles against his palm nervously before holding out his hand to Jared again. "Just give me a little peace of mind - call it plausible deniability if you want. Give me your keys and your wallet, then we can swap phones. You can make emergency calls if anything happens. It's only for a couple of hours and I'm not going to drive off anywhere." He smiled trying to be peaceable. "You can take all the time you want; I'll just hang out until you're ready."

Jared's stomach had become a sick snake coiling and trembling in his gut. He hated this; the whole damned sitation was so stupid! He grunted and grabbed his wallet from his pocket while glaring at the other man with a look he hoped would set his shirt ablaze. He slapped his keys and his wallet down on the bench he'd been sitting on and tossed his phone next to them. He held out his hand silently. The look of awkward relief on Roan's face was almost comical as he reached out to take his offered hand. Jared grimaced and brushed the gesture aside without comment and held his hand out expectantly.

Roan's face blanched and his ears pulled back on his head as he frowned and handed over his phone. He turned and grabbed the items from the bench before turning to walk back to the car. He stopped after a few steps and looked over his shoulder. "There's one more thing." Jared bared his teeth and actually growled; this shit was over. "You have to let Greg have all the animal and sand time he wants." The man smiled weakly at him.

Jared scowled incredulously and blinked back at the burning sensation in his nose. He cleared his throat. "OK. I can promise that." The redhead turned and walked back to the car without comment.

---

The sun was low in the sky as Greg lay back against his chest; the last vestiges of his little trooper's energy evaporated with all the speed and finality of narcolepsy. Jared wrapped his arm around the boy and kissed his head as he stood up and carried him back over to the bench where Roan was sitting. The man was bent over with his elbows on his knees and was staring at nothing between his feet, just as he had been ever since he'd gotten back from his walk. Jared guessed that was probably a couple of hours ago at least. The man hadn't said a word, hadn't done much more than smile or gesture encouragingly whenever Greg had tried to include him in his play time.

Jared folded himself as he rearranged his son to be able to drape across his lap as he sat beside the other man. "You alright?"

The redhead seemed to rouse slowly, in stages, as if some kind of automaton powering up for the first time. He glanced to see Greg's sleeping face cradled in the cleft of Jared's arm and chest. "Yeah, I guess." He looked out at the sun over on the far side of the play area. The moment dragged out as the men sat in silence, both watching the orange clouds in the distance and breathing in at the breeze that still lapped at them.

Jared felt lighter now; his nerves quieted by chasing his son to collapse all afternoon. It had been a terrible day but a much needed joy of an afternoon. "Thanks." He didn't look away from the sky and neither did Roan.

After a few more minutes, the hot little dead weight on his leg tried to reposition itself and began to snore and drool on his arm. Jared glanced down with a smile. If ever there was a perfect thing in his life...he let the thought trail off as he chuckled and stood, bringing the child's head up to his shoulder. "I think this one deserves a bed and a hot meal."

Roan stood and stretched, arching his back until his head touched the back of the bench, before he walked back to his car. He opened the back seat and stepped out of the way; he turned his gaze back out at the horizon. Jared stooped and arranged his son in all of the straps his son's little five-point harness racing seat entailed. He pressed his lips against the boy's forehead for a long moment, breathing in the smell of him. He closed the door as he turned to look over at Roan. The man didn't move his gaze at all and Jared looked at him. He could see the purple bruising along the cartilage of the man's ear and he frowned to himself. His stomach hurt as he kept appraising the mark, it was visible on both sides of the ear; he was sure that, if not for the hair on his head, there'd be a matching bruise on the man's scalp.

Roan dug into his pockets and presented all of Jared's belongings, holding them in front of his chest rather than handing them to Jared directly. Jared retrieved the phone from his shirt pocket and placed it in the pile in Roan's hands before collecting all of his items in one hand. "Thanks." Roan said flatly then looked up sharply at Jared when he felt a large hand tentatively rest on his shoulder.

Jared watched as Roan's eyes sparkled in the sunset. The man's brow gently furrowed as his eyes searched his face for something. Jared moved the hand on his shoulder to behind Roan's head and pulled the unresisting man to his chest. He folded his other arm around the man's back and held him in a hug. He rested his head beside Roan's. "I'm sorry." He felt the smaller man's arms wrap around his chest gently and felt him nod his head. Stood that way for a long moment before Roan pulled back out of the embrace; he's face was uncertain when he looked up at Jared and put on a half smile.

"I should get going," Roan said. Jared straightened his stance and nodded as Roan made his way around the car.

Jared waved as he watched the car pull out of the parking lot. He stood there for a minute just looking at where he'd last seen the tail lights before the car had turned onto the drive that led out of the park. Truly, he thought, if I had been thinking - If I had known this would happen, I wouldn't have had anything to do with her. He grimaced as an angry growl announced that he had eaten all day and he made his way across the parking lot to where his truck was parked.

---

With a sigh Jared contemplated the plastic fork he was eating with. ...had been eating with, he thought as he looked down at the half-full paper carton of 'Special' fried rice from a Chinese take-out place that had been near the exit from the park. The 'Special', apparently, meant something closer to non-descript or, perhaps, cafeteria esque; as far as he was concerned, he was eating tiny packing peanuts with oil and chunks. It was a marvel of the modern plastics industry that convincingly looked to be a mix of shrimp, eggs, and some uncertain other meat, yet, tasted of nothing so much as licking a well seasoned but empty pan.

He tossed the fork into the carton and set the mess on the coffee table. He sat back on the living room couch and let his head hang back on his shoulders as he looked in the general direction of the ceiling. He sighed again and closed his eyes as he begrudgingly continued to chew the last of his meal that he'd put into his mouth; the longer he chewed, the slower his jaw moved and his jaw was tired but his tongue didn't seem any more interested in swallowing it now than it had been when he'd taken the bite, forever ago. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and grunted before forcing himself to swallow. "Eulgh." He wiped a hand over his face and let a little of the droning of the TV reach his mind; some sport's caster was yammering on about a player's alleged prospects in college basketball. He let his eyes focus on the ceiling for a moment; he realized he didn't even know who was playing, let alone the score. He grimaced and pressed the power button of the remote tucked against his thigh. His eyes wandered a little further up to stare at the photos on the wall behind him; it was a wall of memories.

Each photo was double matted and hung in simple wooden frames. The frames and matting colors were all a little different and he'd always found it fascinating that the arrangement didn't look cluttered or haphazard. The progression of frame styles, colors, even content, all gave the vague sense of movement; it guided the eye from frame to frame, photo to photo, memory to memory, until you got the feeling that you had been almost listening to someone telling you a story but you couldn't quite place the plot. The subtlety was impressive and entirely a display of Cheryl's hand. His cheek tightened, pulling his lips to the side as he looked at the wall. Even upside-down his eyes followed a kind of meandering march around the frames without taking in the content and giving voice to the story.

He blew out his breath and lifted his head to look at the opposing wall. There was a large flat-screen he'd hung; it was off-center to the wall in a way that had always bugged him when he walked past but, from the seating of the room looked correct even to him. Again, he didn't understand why the placement didn't bother him from here but he knew if he stood he'd feel the twinge to move the thing. His wife's doing. They'd gotten nothing but compliments from all of their friends about how welcoming and homey their house was. He couldn't deny that everything seemed to fit and belong in a way he couldn't explain or put his finger on, let alone replicate on his own.

He grinned as he remembered the day he'd brought the TV home. Over the course of three months, every trip to the wholesale club would spark an hour long debate as they walked from the biggest screen to the ones hardly fit to be called entertainment devices anymore, in his opinion. She'd only cared about having 'just enough to create a space' while he'd been drooling over the dream of a full wall of techno-fire. He chuckled. He'd gone as far as recruiting sales floor reps, online reviews, testimonials from his brothers and her father - he'd even recruited nearby customers to act as survey participants - anything to get the sexy, jumbo toy that seemed to be absolutely dripping with color saturation into his living room. His lawyer of a wife had been good natured and amused, entertaining every overture, any argument to let him get it all out of his system - She'd been the one to get the sales reps to play along, to put the nervous couples as innocent bystanders to warm into the game of the debate, and all with a social finesse that left everyone laughing and wishing them luck by the end of the exchange. He chuckled to himself. In the end, and there had never been any doubt, they'd bought the exact sized model that she had wanted from the very first day; he'd been able to pick whatever brand, model, features, compatibility - all things she didn't even pretend to understand or be concerned about - with her debating the financial comparison as her only resistance. He bent and placed the remote on the coffee table and sat with his elbows on his knees as he looked between his feet. He sighed heavily and frowned.

Cheryl was a joy to socialize with; their vacations, dinner dates, picnics, parties, wedding, and even their weekend retreats at home were the stuff of dreams - As of last night, empathically his dreams. Yet, his wife was not an easy person to live with. She was competitive, stubborn, assertive, demanding, and, dear Lord, the debate of law found that woman, not the other way round; when she wanted something, he knew there were only two possibilities - she was either just fancifully toying with it or she got it. For all that, they rarely fought and, when they did, he had to admit, it was nearly always because of him. She'd often tried to explain to him the difference between the stuff they fought about and the stuff that never seemed to get her upset. His jaw worked. He didn't understand what she was saying at all. How could you feel strongly about something without it...meaning something? He'd always been the type to act and show what he thought or felt.

He grabbed the plastic bag and cleaned up the colorful array of sauce packets, implements, spare plastic silverware, an unopened strange bag of brown crunchy twigs, the wad of napkins, and his container of fried rice as he stood and wandered into the kitchen. To that end, most of the fights he could remember had either been about sex, in one way or another, or about work. He shook his head as he stepped on the pedal to open the kitchen garbage can. They absolutely could not talk about work; he hated her clients' way of demanding everything from her and she, in turn, just couldn't understand how the guys at his shop weren't all bad or out to get over on him. He tossed the bag of complimentary crap into the bin and furrowed his brow. She’d only started three fights in the entire time he’d known her; one was setting his dad straight when the man had made some tactless comment about ‘colored people’ - the entire family had been brought to stunned silence by the time his then fiance had closed her mouth. He grimaced as he stared into the open container of left-overs. She’d been right but...they were still his family; that had almost ended them - not because his dad could be an idiot but because… He shrugged and threw the ill-fated carton after the bag of crap into the bin and walked over to the fridge. ...because he’d stood up for his family when he’d felt that she’d shamed or disrespected them. She’d said something about standing up for the weak or defenseless versus what was right; he’d only gotten more upset because she’d certainly made clear to everyone in the room what wasn’t right - even he’d been brought to cowed silence by the...sheer precision of her words; they’d only moved forward with the engagement after a few weeks of...very tense dating. They had been on their honeymoon before she’d ever brought up the topic again. He leaned his head against the cold white plastic of the top freezer door.

She’d been perched on the ledge of the window in their villa in Colombia. Cheryl had been wrapped in a terrycloth towel after they’d showered from making love and she was staring out at the bowl of the valley of city beneath them; he’d been staring at her from the bed, just watching her body back-lit by the morning sun.

“I didn’t even have words for how hurt I was when you pulled me into the backyard at your parent’s and raised your voice at me.” She didn’t look at him or even move as the words came out. “It was OK for him to be a racist - For him to say racist things about a group of people - about me, because it hadn’t been aimed directly at me. It was all fine if I had let you handle it. You weren’t upset that I was wrong; you were upset because I showed them and you how much I didn’t need you to defend me. I made sure that every one of them knew how much words could hurt; I wasn’t disrespectful and I wasn’t cruel.” He hated when she got like that; she was hurting but she could just sit there looking for all the world like she felt nothing at all.

“You didn’t have to shame them that far or all of them. My father was out of line and he didn’t know it would upset you like that.”

“I shamed them because I could; I have the voice and the ability to stand up for myself.” She turned to look at him. “Not everyone has that luxury. I was angry that he could say such an ignorant and hurtful thing and that the rest of them didn’t see how wrong letting him say such things uncontested was, not for me but for the people who wouldn’t be able to stand up.”

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. “...I know and I knew that but you aren’t going to win the fight against racism all by yourself. There is such a thing as being dead right.”

“Jared, sometimes I need to know you love me, that you believe in me, even when I’m right.”

He frowned and nodded at the ceiling. “Cher, I always love you and I always will love you-”

“I need to know that you believe in me, even when you are upset with me.”

He closed his eyes and let the fridge hold him up as he sat with the memory of that moment. He’d almost not heard her speak; when he tilted his head to see her face, she’d been crying. It wasn’t uncommon for her to cry but usually from humor or joy or some other handful of emotions he couldn’t quite label, all seemingly positive ones. His chest felt heavy anytime he thought about that moment with her. He grabbed a bottle of flavored sparkling water from her collection in the fridge and returned to the couch.

The shelves decorating the wall around the television contained photos of their wedding, their son, and a couple of moments from their early vacations together. The one exception was an old photograph of Cheryl, Roan, and he from junior high; it showed he and his then girlfriend holding up a very lanky teen-aged redhead wearing glasses who was laying across their arms outside of Epcot Center in Florida. It was one of his photos and a personal memento that she’d put on the central wall for him when they’d found Roan again.

He ground his teeth as he felt a tingle of fear walk down his neck. He wasn’t exactly sure when the thought had caught him but it was what had brought him to Roan’s driveway last night. He frowned at himself and slumped his shoulders with a sigh. Jared had never been much of a jealous lover and this was hard to push aside for its newness. When he’d gotten the text from the man Friday afternoon it had been a total relief: “Hey, did something happen? Cheryl and Greg are coming to my place for the weekend, I think. I didn’t ask for a reason. I’ll let you know when I see them and if I get any idea what’s going on.” Jared had been at work and failing to function beyond autopilot for the several hours since his wife had hung up on him and refused any acknowledgement of calls or texts since. He hadn’t been quite in a panic since the issue was over and Cheryl hadn’t been much more than matter of fact over the phone in asking him about the affair.

“Yeah, I screwed up and she’s upset. Thanks for letting me know. Sorry, you got pulled into this.” He’d sent the reply to Roan right when he’d read the message. It was only later, after he’d replied to the text, when he’d started to panic - Cheryl was spending the weekend? Wait, she was taking Greg and leaving their house?! It had been all he could manage to get someone to cover for him at the shop and get the hell out of the office before the customers got free tickets to see his meltdown. He’d tried to reach her on her phone the entire drive home then he’d raced around the house frantically when he’d stormed through the entrance from the garage. He saw that she’d taken a fair amount of clothes and travel necessities for her. When he went to check Greg’s room, he’d just stood in the doorway; it had been a mess of items tossed across the bed and floor from her packing.

He’d been sitting on the floor in that same doorway, hugging himself, a few hours later when the second message had arrived. “Cheryl and Greg are at my house; they are both safe and well. ...She said you’d had an affair. She is...well, you know her, she’s angry but there’s no telling how angry. I don’t think she’s thinking anything crazy but she definitely doesn’t want to talk to you right now. They are safe here, let her cool down for a bit and I’ll keep you posted. *PLEASE STAY HOME*” He’d stared at the message for probaby thirty minutes, just re-reading it, trying to parse it all. Eventually, he’d gone downstairs to sit right where he was now, on the couch, looking at the photos of his wife, son, and that photo from junior high.

When he’d poured himself a highball last night, it had been to still his nerves so that he’d have been able to sleep. He hadn’t counted on the dark turn his rumination would take; once he’d started to draw all of the ugly scenarios in his head, he’d kept drinking in the hope of quieting them but, as is the way of such things, it had ended with him determined to confront his wife about this mess. He made a disgusted sound. What a mess. Even now, he still couldn’t put the worse of those thoughts behind him.

Why Roan? Sure, he was close but she’d had to drive by several of her friends and even her sister to get to Greg’s daycare and back so why had she come all the way back, past their neighborhood, to land at Roan’s place? The redhead was great with Greg and never missed an opportunity to babysit the boy if he could help it... but Cheryl’s sister was the same. He closed his eyes and put his head in his hand as he sat forward on the couch with his arms on his knees.

They both had a lot of nostalgic affection for the other man; he was easy to be around and to get along with so they’d had no problems including him in their parties and outings over the years since he’d moved into his house down on the lakefront. Cheryl said it had been the house that brought them back together. Early in her pregnancy with Greg, she’d come home and told him that she had a surprise for him and that needed to go for a walk for him to see it. He’d been curious about what she would be surprising him with but, as they’d meandered the neighborhoods down the hill he’d figured out they were heading to the lake and thought maybe she’d gotten him a boat or something. He’d never really thought about owning a boat but what else would be down there? They’d walked the public shoreline and taken off their shoes to wade ankle-deep around the private lines as well. Thankfully, most of the lake people were either seasonal or really friendly as no one did more than wave at them as they walked by holding hands.

When she’d guided him up into the long backyard of a three story home, no boat in sight...he’d been confused.

The house was weathered and in much disrepair; the old wood siding was grayed and cracked from years of neglect and water damage. He was no contractor but he could see cracks along the foundation, probably from damage when the lake froze during years of high tide levels. It had storm shuttered windows and the yard was a few months past needing a trim. Back then, the house hadn’t had a deck, the bottom floor leading out to the yard was a kind of semi-finished basement with a sliding glass door.

They’d stood in the yard talking about nothing in particular for several minutes; she’d deflect the conversation every time he’d tried to ask what they were doing there. She’d tried to hide her smile when he’d nervously asked if she had bought the place for them or something. He’d only become more worried - There was no way they could afford the property, let alone afford to feed the obvious money pit of repairs needed to make it livable; plus, she was pregnant so he was already stressing about what their finances were going to look like in a year.

About the time he was starting to get visibly frustrated and his feet were getting tired, she’d glanced up at the house. The sliding glass door slid open and a man walked out of it heading toward them. At first he didn’t even think to try to recognize the man but Roan had one of those faces that never really changed; even when he’d seen childhood pictures of him at his mother’s house, he’d still looked like, well Roan.

Jared was blind-sided, ecstatic, and shouted as he’d rushed to pick up the shorter man. Roan had laughed as he was spun around in the air and afterwards they’d tussled for a moment playfully sizing each other up. Cheryl had just stood with watching them with amusement as they’d acted like kids for some time; they’d always been that way: Roan always felt almost like a brother...if brothers didn’t involve bullying, in-fighting over toys and parental attention, and ratting each other out...so nothing like Jared’s actual brothers: He was like a brother someone wanted to have. When they’d finally calmed down enough to act like adults again, Jared had insisted they all go out to dinner somewhere to celebrate. Roan had driven them to a local tavern where they spent the evening eating and drinking from a corner booth.

When Jared asked about what happened to him, Roan told them about his relocating to live with his father, out of state, for highschool. He then attended college out of state and lived around a couple of other places in the two years since college. He moved here when he’d taken a job at one of the local company offices as a computer guy. He had been living in an apartment for some months before he’d found the house that he was in the process of closing on. Cheryl chimed in that she’d been reviewing the legal contracts for property escrows in her office when she saw ‘Roan Michael Trenton’ on the documents - Small world.

After they’d gone back to the lakefront and said their goodbyes, Roan drove back to his apartment across town. Jared and his wife walked back to their neighborhood. “So, what do you think?” she’d asked.

“It’s great to see him. It sucks about all the crap with his father but it’s good to see he made it.” He’d had one hand around her shoulders and she’d been holding his other hand as they took their time walking up the hill.

“And you’re OK not asking about the year and a half gap between when he disappeared and when he started highschool?” He’d frowned.

“Maybe he was going through all of that stuff with his mom before getting up to his father’s.” Cheryl had only glanced up at him and nodded.

Jared grabbed his seltzer from the coffee table, flipped off the lights, and sprawled out on the couch; the light of the street lamp and the shadows of tree branches danced across the bay window at the front of the house. In truth, what he’d not been OK with was the gap between when she’d seen the documents that led her to contact Roan and the night that they’d been reunited. At the time, it had only been about her hiding such a significant thing from him; something about it rankled him. He grunted.

They’d pretty quickly involved Roan in their social circle events and Jared had helped the man move into the guest bedroom of his new house with the plan of slowly fixing up the place as he lived and worked out of the single room. Roan had helped Jared remake Cheryl’s home office into the baby’s room and, afterwards, to refinish the attic space over their garage into what was now Cheryl’s home office. Roan and he had started going jogging together back too. The whole thing was just like when they’d been in school together; having Roan around him was like pouring two glasses of water together. So it wasn’t even a thought when they found out the gender of their child, Jared had proposed to make their child’s middle name be ‘Michael’ and having Roan be a godfather to their son.

He sipped his drink and shook his head against the cushion of the couch. That had been the third argument Cheryl started in their relationship: She made it very clear that, while she was happy that he was happy, she wasn’t comfortable building him into their life so intimately. As always, he’d stood up for his friend and she’d only seemed to fight harder about it when he did - The ultrasound tech had asked them to table the argument as her agitation was screwing with the measurements.

His face darkened. And now this. In his upset brooding, after his fourth or fifth scotch last night, he’d had a flash of doubt cross his mind. He shifted uncomfortably and took a large gulp from the bottle in his fingers. The thought even now fought its way to the surface, tar slowly drowning a trapped animal. He knew it was irrational but he was upset by it enough to have taken to the street last night and to be visibly shaking tonight, a day later. He knew he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. He threw his arm over his face.

A small sound of anguish echoed in the darkness.