Learning Lessons: A Losing His Wife Novel

by KT Morrison

  He squeezed Andy, looked down at Jess’ beautiful five-year-old, and snorted. He stretched until his legs shook, and stroked Andy’s shoulder.

  “What was that?” he said, and smiled.

  “How many burgers do you want? Pete’s grilling.”

  “Mm. Two. No, three. No buns, Jess. Tell him I don’t want any bread.”

  “Okay. Dad?” she said turning to see her dad watching her from Pete’s chair.

  “I’ll take just one, Jessy,” he said to her. There was that strange look again. She wasn’t even doing anything.

  “Petey?”

  Petey jumped up, said, “I’ll go tell him, Mom,” and he headed for the hall to go out back.

  Tyler said, “Tell him I don’t want buns, Petey.”

  “Okay,” Petey said, his voice coming from down the hall. The sliding glass door rumbled.

  There was a knock at the door and Sargent jumped up barking and wagging, trotting through the kitchen headed for the front door.

  “That’s got to be Patty and Russ,” she said, no one listening to her now, all their eyes on football.

  She could see their silhouettes in the window of the front door, held Sargent’s collar, and opened the door to let them in. Patty brought a green bean casserole and Russ was holding a pumpkin bread. She thanked them, brought them into the kitchen and then Russ was gone. Another football fan in the house. She heard her dad call out, Hey, Russ, how ya been?

  Jess sent Jacob to go find Petey out back with his dad at the barbecue and Tammy stayed to help her mom and Jess in the kitchen getting the dinner ready.

  “He still here?” Patty whispered to her.

  Jess shrugged, very animated, threw up her hands and closed her eyes. Tried to make it seem like it was out of her hands, like, Gosh, Patty, I don’t know what it’s going to take to get this guy out of here.

  Sara arrived in the middle of the first quarter of the Vikings-Lions game and Jess went out to help her. She’d brought three bottles of wine (thank you very much) and creamed onions in a casserole dish, and Jess carried in her little boy, Bart, unbuckling him from his car seat and walking him behind Sara hugging him up on her hip.

  She got Sara into the kitchen and they poured themselves a glass of wine. She introduced her to Patty, saw right away that those two would get along well, two compatriots in cynicism. Then Jess took her for the tour of all the guys in the TV room. She said her hellos, narrowed her eyes and nodded when she saw Tyler. Pete was out back still, done grilling, but busying himself out there with chores. Not a fan of football.

  Bart was ready for a nap and she let Sara take him upstairs and put him down in the master bedroom. When she got back she helped Patty and Tammy cut vegetables and mostly they talked about stuff they wanted to talk about, and nibble and drink their wine. Jess was so glad that she’d come.

  Then the questions came about Tyler. Not the normal inquisitive interest in what he was like, what it was like to be so close every day to someone who was so hot, but a little more about why he was still there. What was he going to do? She danced around it as best she could, said the job market had been tough, he’s got work and he’s definitely contributing to the household and that it won’t be long until he finds something permanent. She felt like she made it sound pretty reasonable, she gave logical answers that in many ways were, quite frankly, accurate. But she couldn’t help notice how defensive she got and how any question about Tyler made her reactive, made the back of her neck hot and made her want to fight back like she was being challenged. But she was being challenged and maybe she should be; Tyler shouldn't be here anymore, he should be out—he was ten years younger than them, he had a different lifestyle, or at least he should have. But he was here and whatever was happening it felt good and it felt right and Tyler seemed satisfied.

  When Jess was ready to boil the potatoes she wanted the stock pot she kept on top of the cupboard in the laundry room. When she left the kitchen, a roar from the football fans behind her in the family room, she found Tyler and Sara talking in the hall. She didn’t like the way Sara’s head was cocked. She didn’t like how closely they were standing. Sara was attractive. Taller than Jess, very pretty face. Maybe not as pretty as Jess. Sara never quite lost all the baby weight but somehow she wore it well. She looked very cute with her big hips and ass, her big breasts. She was confident, wore slim fitting clothes, proud of her curves, knew a lot of men liked that. She was young too. Younger than Jess.

  And Tyler looked like that kind of man. One that would grab a big pretty girl with curves and do awful things to her; he’d probably fucked a lot of big pretty sorority girls back at college. They probably had all heard about that big dick and wanted to see if it was true.

  So she interrupted them, just a strange hormonal reaction. She walked up and got herself between them and told Tyler she needed him in the kitchen. Sara looked at her awkwardly, those big pretty brown eyes of hers narrowed suspiciously again and Jess walked back with Tyler realizing no one would need Tyler in the kitchen for anything, how obvious did she have to make this?

  Jess kept Tyler a while in the kitchen waiting for Patty to clear out so she could talk to him. He hung out, got himself another beer. She could see the smirk on his face; a kid who knew he was in trouble. She didn’t like that look, it was like something a little boy would do waiting to hear what his teacher was going to say, or his mother.

  So when Patty finally left and she was alone she didn’t say a thing. She could be sexy, she didn’t have to be jealous, she had a choice. But he was on to her.

  He got next to her at the island, both of them facing out of the kitchen.

  “Somebody’s not jealous, I hope?” he said, and she jumped feeling him put his hand on her behind.

  “Tyler,” she said.

  “It’s been a while,” he said.

  “It has,” she agreed. “But now?” she raised her eyebrows to him, motioned to the counter at all the food being prepared.

  She kept working and his hand absently fondled her rump, squeezed and kneaded and she let him do it. She didn’t hate it.

  “You are so amazing, you know.”

  She said, “Am I?”

  “I mean it. You are everything.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “I’m lucky to be with you.”

  “Me?”

  “My happy homemaker,” he said, watching her still try and prepare food while he had his hand moving over her sensitive areas, dropping his hand down until she felt him brush the top of her thighs and it made her scalp tingle.

  “You’re what makes me happy,” she whispered.

  His hand slowed on her and she felt the tips of his fingers trying to slide in between her legs, pushing the fabric of her skirt against her.

  “Tyler, don’t. Are you crazy? There’s so many people here,” she could feel herself go red, but she could also feel the corners of her mouth curl up into a smile and she couldn’t stop it. He saw her smile and his eyes narrowed, he was up to no good, and that made her smile even broader, her lips sliding up her teeth.

  “What?”

  “There’s no way we could get away with it.”

  “That sounds like a dare.”

  “More like a threat.”

  “You don’t scare me,” he grumbled, squeezed a handful of her cheek firmly.

  “Even with this knife?” she joked, but she felt her upper lip starting to get a little warm.

  “Why don’t you run upstairs and slip off your panties?”

  “Tyler. My family is here.”

  “I bet you I could make you come while you were standing in the kitchen with everyone just on the other side of the wall.” Still smiling, holding her eyes, a wintry sparkle in the blue there, reflecting light coming in from the kitchen window.

  “I bet you could too,” she said, smiling, watching her hands chop up potatoes.

  “Run upstairs and take them off. I can give you a little squeeze down here,” he said, putti
ng his big hand right up between her legs, “every time someone’s got their back turned.”

  “Oh, Tyler, oh, ah, that’s so bad.”

  His hand was moving between her legs. It was below the island if someone came in they wouldn’t see. “Oh,” she whispered again, felt her eyes want to close. She put her knife down and faced him. He held his hand rigid for her, pushing against the front of her skirt now, looking into her eyes, and she started to hump her desperate mound against his fingers. “Oh, don’t make me wet,” she groaned, turning it to a laugh.

  “You are so sexy,” he said.

  She opened her legs a little wider for him, let him push himself against her. She could hear her breaths get lusty. This was too much, this was Thanksgiving. She was supposed to be cooking. But...fuck, he had a way. She held his wrist, her other hand came up and she grabbed his forearm. He had a hand up on the counter supporting his weight while his other hand was doing nasty things down below; she dug her fingers into his rock hard muscles.

  “Kiss me,” she whispered, looking up into his eyes. Just half a minute and they would stop. He moved himself to her, holding her eyes and she kissed him quickly, bit at his lip, closed her eyes, just for a second.

  There was someone in the hall.

  She turned quickly to her potatoes, picked up her knife. Tyler moved behind her and ran the sink, poured himself a glass of water. A body had passed through from the family room across the hall and into the laundry room. She could see a shadow of someone in there right now, watched the grey shape move along the hallway wall.

  “Oh, no, oh shit,” she whispered.

  There was a clinking of bottles in there and someone banging a pot around. It was Sara and she came out to the hall and walked toward them into the kitchen, she had her arms filled with beer bottles and an empty snack bowl pinched between her fingers.

  She put the things down on the counter next to the sink, said, “We’re going to need some refills out there. Where do you keep your beer?”

  Jess chopped potatoes, said, “Huh? Oh, there’s a beer fridge out in the garage, just through the mud room. Thanks, Sara.” Chop chop.

  Sara looked at Jess and Tyler and nodded, said, “Okay.”

  They watched her leave.

  Tyler leaned over her shoulder watching down the hall. “Do you think she saw?”

  Jess frowned, said, “I don’t think she could contain herself if she saw.”

  It hadn’t been the best day for grilling but it wasn’t so miserable that he was driven inside. The sky was grey, cloudy, maybe a little low and oppressive, but there wasn’t any rain or wind and the temperature wasn’t so cold that he didn’t mind being out here taking the time to scrub the charcoal off the grills of the barbecue he’d got just this season from the Save-Mart. He scrubbed the grills until they shone, sprayed them, scrubbed them some more. He would stop and throw Sargent’s tennis ball every time he brought it to him, then wipe his hands on a cloth.

  Sargent gave up eventually, came back with a stick and lay at the bottom of the patio steps and chewed it. Pete stopped his relentless cleaning and came to sit on the top step and watch him. He looked out over the yard, the wrapped shrubs, the bright orange snow fence. Winter was coming very soon, and they were calling for a doozy. He frowned, hoped he was prepared for it.

  The sliding glass door rumbled behind him, opened then closed. He turned and saw Sara walking out to him.

  “Hey,” she said, and she sat next to him on the top step and handed him a can of beer.

  “Thanks, Sara, I was actually dying for one.”

  “Well, you’re welcome,” she said, looking out over his yard now too.

  He pulled the tab on his beer, told her he was glad she was there, glad that she could make it. She pulled her tab, said she was glad to be there and they touched can rims together.

  “You good?” she said.

  “Yeah, I am. Why?”

  “You’re out here a lot.”

  “Mm. I like it out here,” he said, gulping beer.

  She was watching him, he could feel her eyes moving over his face.

  She took a sip, said, “How’re the boys doing?”

  “They’re doing great, I think. Know something I don’t?”

  She looked at him and it seemed like she might have something to say. Her expression changed, and he watched her lips tighten, purse. She looked away, looked down at her hands holding the beer can. He swore the colour of her face changed.

  He chuckled, said, “You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”

  “I just got some bad news. About a friend.”

  Now he felt stupid. He said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I hope it’s not serious. Is it somebody you know very well?”

  She said, “It’s somebody I love...and I think they might be sick.”

  “He looks way too comfortable to me,” Patty said.

  Russ said, “I know. Did you see him?”

  Pete stood outside the powder room. Russ and his sister were in there with the door open and he could hear them talking quietly. He felt really guilty lurking in the hall listening to them talk but it felt like he’d passed the point he could break away, afraid now that if he left they would hear a creak of a floorboard. Then they would feel bad that Pete had overheard some of the things they were saying.

  He didn’t come down this hall to listen, didn’t follow them so he could find out what they were thinking. But he was finding out. It wasn’t anything surprising. How could Pete allow this? What was Jess thinking? Who is this guy? What about the boys? All the things a concerned sister who loved her little brother would be expected to say.

  He was going to have to get out of the hall, they would come out soon and all three of them would be face to face and that would be uncomfortable. He didn’t want them to see him right now. He took a careful step, heard his knee creak, hoped they couldn’t hear that and he shifted his weight forward, leaning his body towards the kitchen.

  Jess walked from the family room ahead of him, returning an empty platter to the kitchen. She turned and he screamed inside his head.

  “Pete, have you seen the boys?” she called to him.

  He shook his head. His eyes were wide.

  She looked at him strangely.

  “I think they went down to the basement,” Patty said behind him.

  He turned and their eyes met. He looked down and made his way to the kitchen.

  Pete had been hanging around the kitchen for a while and it occurred to her he was waiting for the coast to clear so he could say something.

  She kept herself busy waiting for him to get his chance. Wondering what it was going to be. What was wrong now, Pete?

  Pete asked Jess, “What do you think of Sara?”

  “My Sara?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do I think of my friend?” she smirked.

  “I don't know her as well as you do. I just mean...is she a good person?”

  Jess scrubbed her devilled egg platter in the sink, getting the sponge into all the divots the eggs would sit in. She shook her head, wondered where he was going with this. She said, “Yeah, she is. She's very caring. She's a good teacher, a great mom. Why?”

  Pete was standing next to her, not looking at her but over at the arch that led to the family room. He said, “Yeah, I thought she was nice too. I was just wondering, you know, she and Tyler might make a good couple.”

  The back of Jess’ neck went on fire. “What?” she said.

  Pete went on, “She's pretty, Bart could do with a dad. I just wondered...you know...”

  She put her tray in the drying rack, firmly, hearing the porcelain clink against the stainless. She wanted to slam it down in there, but she held back. She liked it, didn't want to break it. She said, “Is Tyler looking for a girlfriend? I don't understand at all why you would possibly want to meddle in their lives.” She stared at him, her mouth grimly set.

  Pete put both his hands up in defense, one hand holding a can of Coors. “I'm onl
y thinking of Sara and Bart. It must be hard and lonely.”

  Jess said, “Tyler is looking for a job, Pete...he's not looking for a wife. Okay?”

  “Okay, okay.” Pete took a sip of his beer, looked around the kitchen, said, “He can't stay here forever, you know. I was just thinking of your friend.”

  Pete got himself out of the kitchen and went in and sat in the family room. He took a footstool between Russ on the end of the couch and his father-in-law sitting in Pete’s recliner on his right. Patty was by the window going through her phone and Tyler and Andy were on the couch past Russ. Tyler was leaning forward, intent on the game, and Andy would watch, get bored, doze off, and sometimes climb on Tyler's back.

  The game was in the fourth quarter. The table was littered with peanut shells, crumbs, and there was a platter with three baked cheese pastries Jess had made that were old now, the orange cheddar turned hard but still oily. When this game was over they were all excited for 4:30. Redskins versus Cowboys. About as traditional and American as a conflict could be. Dinner during halftime, then they’d finish that game. In the evening was the big head-to-head. Colts-Steelers and Tyler was, of course, a big Steelers fan being from Pennsylvania.

  A commercial came on, loud and jarring, and Russ got up and squeezed past Pete, mumbled, Going right through me. Jess’s dad turned to Pete, he looked at him, looked him up and down and his mouth creased into a slim line. He said, “How you doing, Pete?”

  Pete nodded, said, “Good, good,” went through the same rigmarole he’d tell anyone about managing a busy—very busy—big box store. Conrad listened, seeming disinterested but yet somehow caring. He looked like he was waiting to say something.

  Conrad and Pete didn't have the best relationship. Never any trouble between them, never a bad word. They were just two guys who were very dissimilar. Like Pete and Tyler. Just two guys who had far different interests.

  Conrad stopped him talking—Pete was going in circles anyway—put one of his big old white-haired hands on Pete's knee. He said, “Pete, I want you to know that I think you're a good dad.”

  It took him by surprise. He felt instantly overwhelmed. It was nothing like Conrad had ever said before.