But in the hundreds of questions he asked himself that morning, not once did he push past the most cursory thought about his own responsibilities. Richard had grown up in a generation quick to claim its rights, but slow to face its responsibilities. He was convinced that Janet didn't understand him or his “needs,” that she had changed once she had gone back to work. Only the dimmest of voices got through, once or twice that whole morning, that perhaps he also had responsibility for their relationship over the past few years. But another voice always countered that it was primarily the wife's job in a marriage to work on keeping them happy. It was hard to imagine that he had to do anything or change anything about himself.
He felt badly about his betrayal of Janet; but, doggone it, she had asked for it, by ignoring him for what seemed like years, working so hard on her job at the station. But on the other hand, she was his wife, and they had shared so much together. This morning he found himself imagining for a moment that their marriage might just really work out. He would have to say something to Kristen, to put some distance between them. But now Kristen loved him, too, she said. And did he love her? He didn't really want to; he hadn't originally planned to; he simply didn't know.
In the end, the only decision he could make was to wait and see. He would try to back Kristen off a bit, if the opportunity presented itself, to buy some time with Janet. And that thought made him wish that the problem could just somehow go away. His life was getting very complicated, almost too complicated. He was debating with himself, and he could see both sides very clearly. How had he gotten into this mess?
“Tom, my problem is that I can see both sides of this issue very clearly,” Janet frowned, as they talked in her office with the door closed. “Certainly there is the public's right to know, even if the communication of that knowledge is not particularly attractive.”
He started to protest her choice of words, but she held up her hand. “But I also appreciate your concern about showing this program unedited to an audience which will almost certainly contain children. Especially when they're already exposed to enough violence on television and in real life.”
“That's important, Janet,” Tom finally replied, “but just as important is the precedent. I mean, look how far we've come from just a few years ago; and we've done it one small but significant step at a time. If I had told you when Susan was born that on television today we'd have male and female nudity, couples obviously having orgasms in bed, gays hugging and kissing, bloodbaths on every local news show, and almost every comedy hit dripping with sexual double entendres, would you have believed it?
“Of course not, but here we are. How did it happen? One show tries something as a daring ‘experiment,’ and the next season everyone is doing it. A year later it becomes the new norm.
“Now if this show gets on as another ‘experiment,’ where do we go next? Public executions? Broadcasts of graphic evidence during trials? Teenage suicides videotaped and shown on the six o'clock news? Satanic rites with animal sacrifices? Janet, we have to stop this somewhere. Draw the line and say, ‘Not here, not on my watch. I won't be part of this.’ If we don't, then in a few years there will be a 911 channel, broadcasting the worst moments and most devastating personal tragedies from across our nation—and from around the world—for all to see, twenty-four hours a day.”
“OK. OK. I know how you feel, and as I said, I agree. It's probably too much. But I can also see the other side. The anti-censorship side. And I can understand how the show could boost our ratings. We have to think of that in this economy.”
“Censorship? We're not talking about censorship. I almost wish we were, but the government weenied out on this one years ago. We're talking about our own network, or at least our own station, making the corporate decision that this show is not appropriate. And the ratings argument is all wet. If this goes on, then in six months the other networks will copy it, and we'll be right back where we were—except that we've torn away another brick in the foundation holding up our society.”
“Now, Tom, don't get too philosophical on me.”
“I happen to believe that very strongly. We in the media have been tearing away those bricks for the last twenty years, until there's almost no foundation left. And someday, just maybe someday, there might actually be a backlash, if people ever wake up and realize how far we've sunk, and why. Then what about the ratings? I hate to think.”
“I'm not too worried about that; but, again, I do share your concern about this show. I'll set up a meeting with Bill for early next week. Besides the two of us, who else do you want to attend?”
Richard had devised a simple but virtually foolproof ruse to carve out his Tuesday and Thursday “lunches” with Kristen, thanks to technology. Janet had been bugging him about his waistline. So he joined the Downtown Health Club, conveniently located near Kristen's top-floor apartment at Park Place. He told Mary, his secretary, and Janet that he would probably be jogging or working out in the weight room, so he bought a telephone pager he could wear as he exercised. He told both of them not to bother to call the club if they needed him. It would be much quicker and simpler just to page him directly, and he would return the call.
In the almost three months that they had been meeting, he'd only been to the health club two times. He had returned several calls to his secretary, and one to Janet, from Kristen's bed. And he had smiled to himself, a month later, when he realized that by just eating some fruit on those two days and by “exercising” as they did, he had actually lost a few pounds! And the health club cover explained his shower in the middle of the day. On several occasions a voice had congratulated him for being so clever with these arrangements; they had certainly worked well so far.
But today he wasn't feeling very clever, as he walked toward Park Place a little before noon. The catharsis—a word he remembered from English lit in college—with Janet last night, and the debate in his head that morning, had drained his emotions. He even wondered if he could perform as expected. All morning he had been thinking of Janet, of how they had loved and laughed together for so many years. Of how beautiful she really was, even now; of how she had suffered the pain of childbirth twice for them; of their real joy until…when? Several years ago. What had happened? Was it really just boredom? Was it her new job? Was it his job? With all their other responsibilities, had they both just forgotten to try? The little extra things they used to do for each other, the glue that said “I love you.” When had they stopped doing them? Who had stopped first? Did that even really matter?
And then he had met Kristen. He occasionally handled real estate closings, and Kristen had been the agent on a big home purchase for one of their firm's corporate CEO clients. Richard still remembered the electric effect she had on him when she first came to see him with some documents, the day before the closing. She had been dressed in a smart suit, all business in its cut, but all female in its shape. Her brown hair was piled behind her head; and her freckles added an incongruous impishness to an impression which was otherwise one of intelligence and vitality.
That day she had deferred to his legal authority and treated him with respect, asking him questions and seeming to be genuinely interested in his answers. It had been late in the afternoon, and Richard heard the voice of Lust, which Nepravel had been nurturing regularly, as his marriage with Janet began to unravel. “Why don't we adjourn to the pub across the street, and I'll finish the explanation? “he said suddenly, when that thought first entered his mind.
She agreed, and they sat and talked quietly for over an hour. The next afternoon was the real estate closing, and she asked him to lunch on the following day, as a professional gesture of thanks for help on her biggest sale so far. He gallantly accepted in front of the other participants at the conference table. That had been their one and only real lunch together. On their second “date,” at a noisy bistro, they had not even read their menus when Kristen mentioned that her apartment was just around the corner and that it was much quieter there.
This seed of passion, once planted and nurtured by their long afternoons together, soon grew into a real relationship. Richard quickly learned to respect Kristen's mind as well as her body. Not as old or as experienced as Richard (or Janet, for that matter), Kristen naturally deferred to him, which he loved, and which further fed his fast-ripening ego. But she had a quick intellect. What's more, they were interested in many of the same subjects, in real estate, law, and other areas. Here was a beautiful young woman, who told him that she liked him, talked intelligently with him, and shared many of the same interests. Soon Nepravel did not even have to maintain the voices at night; Richard was doing quite well with his own library of lies, all by himself. And there were no other voices in his recent past to diminish the volume of the lies he told himself. So he carried on, seeing her at least twice a week.
But today, for the first time, he had some slight doubts. Maybe there was a downside. Maybe he and Janet could and would get back together. How much better for the kids? What would Kristen do? Probably better for her, actually, because he never really intended to leave Janet or to marry her, anyway.
Those were his thoughts as he rode the elevator to the twelfth floor, knocked once, and let himself in with his key. She was barefoot, putting a fruit bowl on the table in the dining area, dressed in a tight khaki skirt and a crisp white blouse, unbuttoned halfway down. She smiled when she saw him, and all the debates and all the arguments of the last three hours were instantly drowned out by the singular howl of his lust for her. He smiled back and shut the door.
Afterward, as they shared the same fruit bowl in bed, and the complexities of the last half of his day broke through his mind, he began to think of things he might say to slow down their relationship a bit. Not stop it, of course, but just apply some gentle brakes, in case he later had to force a full stop.
Before he could begin talking about all the work he had to do in the upcoming weeks, to hint that he might have to miss some of their lunches, Kristen turned to him, many more freckles now visible, and asked, “When are you going to tell Janet that you're leaving her?”
He gulped and drew back a bit. Sensing his reaction, she continued. “You told me a month ago you thought it was over between you two. You said it would be better for your kids if you stopped fighting at home with each other. And you've told me that you love me.” Richard cringed inside—he had told her once or twice lately, in the middle of their passion, that he loved her. The words had just come from nowhere, but now they were being fed back to him by someone who remembered very well. “So when do I get you all to myself, every day, instead of just being an afternoon romp?” She leaned over on his shoulder and looked up at him with her bright brown eyes.
“I don't know, Kristen. That's a big step. I'm not so sure now about what it would do to the kids.” Sensing an opening to turn the conversation more the way he had intended, he added, “I've really got to spend more time with them, especially Tommy. It's not their fault that Janet and I are so unhappy, and they shouldn't be punished for it.”
“Well, when we're living together, you'll have plenty of time to be with them. Probably more time than now. I won't mind sharing you with your children. It's just Janet who bothers me.”
This was the first time that either of them had mentioned living together. It occurred to him that two days before he probably would have been flattered and happy. But today it sent a cool chill down his back. Before he could respond, Kristen continued, “And I've figured out how to give you a first taste of what it will be like for us to live together all the time. I've got a surprise for you, Richard: I'm coming to Atlanta with you!”
His shock was apparent. She laughed. “I called your secretary, pretending to be a travel agent, to confirm your accommodations. Now we're booked on the same flights and in adjoining rooms at the same hotel. What do you think about that? We can do this again tonight! What will it be like for us to make love when it's dark outside?” she laughed again.
Knowing that he was licked, he caved in. Anyway, it was past time to get back to the office for a couple more hours of work before the flight. He had tried. He told himself that he really had tried. And he would try again, some other day. But now to the inner voice of Confusion there was added the mental picture of himself and Kristen alone for a weekend in a strange hotel. It was just too much. As Zloy had predicted, Richard was no match for the voices and his own visual images. He was trying to fight a forest fire with a bucket of water.
“And, oh, while I'm thinking about it,” she said, reaching across him to take her purse from her night table, “I'd better leave this here.” Lifting out a chrome Sig Sauer P-230 automatic pistol, she added, “It wouldn't do too well through airport security.”
“Good gracious, Kristen. Why do you carry that?”
“Richard, I show houses at all hours of the day and night, and on the weekends, to I don't always know who. I just hope that this gun will give me a little edge if someone ever tries something. But I'll have you to protect me this weekend!” she said, as she leaned provocatively across him again to put the gun in her drawer, and then kissed him deeply.
Walking back to his office, Richard shook his head in disbelief. What do you do when two women love you? He conveniently skipped over the fact that one of the women he had only known for two hours at a time over just the past few months. The other he had solemnly promised before God, eighteen years before, to love, to honor, and to cherish, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for the rest of his life. The lawyer in him might have asked to see that agreement in writing, if one still expected to enforce it today. He certainly no longer felt that particular promise to be binding or important. “After all, who else did?” he asked himself. And that particular voice sounded very reassuring. He began to look forward to their trip to Atlanta.
3
FRIDAY, APRIL 21 – Friday dawned cold and wet, and Janet thought for a second about the early spring front with its wind and rain, hoping that Richard's flight had been uneventful. She and the kids went through their normal morning routine, each glad that the work week was almost over.
I hope this weather clears up for your game tomorrow,” Janet mentioned to Tommy, as he gulped down a large bowl of cereal.
“Coach says it's supposed to,” Tommy replied, not looking up.
“Amy is going home from school this afternoon and then bringing her stuff over,” said Susan. “Her parents aren't leaving for the mountains until after five.”
“That's fine. Just don't destroy the place until I get home from work,” she said unnecessarily. “I don't know of any crises brewing, so I should be home on time. I may even try to sneak out a little early. Maybe we can all go out to dinner, since Dad's out of town,” she smiled.
For the first time in over eighteen years of marriage, Richard awoke that morning next to a woman other than Janet. When he looked over at Kristen's sleeping form, a voice told him that he felt fifteen years younger. Nepravel had alerted his counterpart in Atlanta, and the demon was already on hand for this very important morning, playing the voices in Richard's head like a virtuoso. Not that they really needed much help, under the circumstances.
He and Kristen had arrived late, after a bumpy flight, just ahead of the front. But then they stayed up even later, playing like two teenagers let loose in the adult cookie jar. Kristen was determined to make the night memorable for Richard, and she succeeded.
When he pulled a fresh pair of underwear out of the bureau drawer, a note fell on the floor. He reached and opened it. It was from Janet. “Last night was almost like old times. I love you and will try my best to make us a family again. Hurry home. Me.” As he lowered the note, he saw Kristen's dozing body, and the freckles on her back. It occurred to him that his situation was simply bizarre. He was OK when each woman could be kept in her usual place. But when they both impacted his life at the same instant, it made his hands sweat. He had to keep the women separated to preserve his sanity. And the voices told him just to enjoy himself while he was away, and not to think about such things for now.
Richard slipped out of their room while Kristen was still sleeping. She had planned a day of shopping, since his meetings would continue until just before supper.
Later that morning, during a break, he phoned Mary at his office to check in. “Please call Bruce McKinney and tell him that Tomlinson's attorney and I have almost worked out all of the details. I should have a second draft of the contract for him to review early next week.”
“How is the conference going?” Mary asked.
“It's very interesting, but of course being away from home is always tough,” Richard replied.
Nepravel was making his usual early afternoon rounds, pleased to see that most of the televisions in the occupied homes were turned on, either to soap operas or to talk shows. He was pleased because that meant he had much less work to do, maintaining the voices, when humans watched these shows regularly. How could anyone know what “normal” was anymore? These shows regularly produced stories and situations which even he had not thought of in his best moments!
On the Edge Page 6