Requital

Now that Barbara was back, he thought things would go back to the chilly relationship they'd had this time last year. Instead, Barbara was attentive and companionable whenever they were together. She called him at work just to see how he was doing and took over the cooking entirely and made a point of often preparing his favorite meals.

He'd tried for a semblance of a separate kind of existence even though she was living in the same house, but that had lasted less than a week. He couldn't help but respond her friendly conversation and increasingly fond smiles. Barbara respected his boundaries and backed off when he grew uncomfortable. She deliberately, but cautiously, tested them from time to time, cheerfully backing away when he resisted. He let some of the barriers draw back over time. He knew it was happening and didn't try to stop it.

Steve still held her at arm's length in a number of areas. There was a point past which he would not go. In particular, even if he had not been infected with a number of STD's, he did not want sex with Barbara. He made it clear he didn't know when or how that would change.

********

Thursday Couple's Counseling

He'd never really thought these two clients would get even this far. There'd been a session when he'd thought they'd fought to a mutually agreed upon severance of their relationship. Instead, that very evening, Barbara had moved back in with Steve…and with his concurrence.

It served to show him that the human animal was capable of nearly anything. In his estimation, the "science" of psychology couldn't even begin explain how people's minds worked. All a counselor could hope to do was point folks at a goal and try to keep them focused on it.

"Steve," Verne Houston said, "you've made enormous gains in ridding yourself of your anger against Barbara. I can see it's taken a monumental effort on your part and I know Barbara appreciates it." He turned to Steve's wife.

"Barbara, you've made tremendous strides in extracting yourself from a murky, uncertain existence. You identified the fog you were in as being the primary factor for you pushing your husband away from you. That's taken a tremendous effort and I'm sure Steve has noticed the difference."

There. That was done, Verne thought. It was right out of the professional counselor's guide. The "book" said to set the tone for a new discussion with something positive about each participant. Sometimes it was hard to find anything encouraging, particularly with these two, but it had been easier the past month.

"Let's talk about forgiveness," he said quietly. He watched as Steve's body language immediately showed a rejection of the topic.

"What does forgiveness mean to you, Barbara?" Verne asked.

"Acceptance," she replied immediately. She looked across the gap between their chairs at her husband.

"I've been thinking about it a lot," she explained. "To me, it means some…uh…a person recognizes someone else has done a wrong, but the person recognizes, and accepts that someone is truly remorseful and will take…uh…take the steps to see the wrong thing never happens again."

"Steve?" The counselor threw the question to Barbara's husband.

"Uh…well…I guess I haven't been thinking too much about "forgiveness" or what it means," Steve said slowly. "What Barb said is okay as far as it goes but…I just don't understand how…her "person" can just ignore what the "someone" has done and accept it."

"No," Barbara said emphatically before Mr. Houston could say anything. "I didn't mean acceptance of the wrong thing itself. Uh…condoning the bad thing would be wrong too.

"What I meant was for the person to accept that the someone did something wrong but that the someone is basically a good person who did a bad thing. It's that the person takes that into account and also how terrible that someone feels about having done it and how committed someone is to making sure…never allowing it to happen again."

"Does that make sense to you, Steve," Verne asked. Steve glanced around at Mr. Houston with a troubled expression on his face.

"Well, if I followed all the "persons" and "someones" and "somethings" and stuff…"

He looked at Mr. Houston for a moment without speaking. There was a faraway look in his eyes. It took him a while to come back to the counseling session.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Steve apologized. "Yes, it makes sense to me, but what about that "never happening again" thing? How can…uh…a person ever know that…someone can't ever…dammit."

Steve looked at his wife and then swiftly back around to their counselor.

"Is it okay if I talk about us instead of…?"

"Sure." Barbara and Verne answered in unison.

"Thanks," Steve said dryly. He paused a moment longer.

"To me, well…I wonder how I can ever be sure Barb won't ever do something like this again. I don't know how I can ever trust her again."

"Trust?" Verne said. "Is trust a necessary component of forgiveness, Steve?"

Steve looked uncertainly at the counselor.

"I think so," he said tentatively, "but I'm willing to be talked out of it," he added.

"Barbara?" Verne asked.

"No…I think they are two separate things," she said slowly. She tossed a quick glance at her husband. When she spoke it was to the counselor, not her husband.

"Steve might forgive me…he might accept that I'm a good person who did a bad thing, like I said, and that I'll be sorry for the rest of my life, but…uh…he might not ever trust me again," she whispered softly. Her eyes were anxious. Her hands clasped each other tightly while she waited for Steve to say something.

Steve looked back at her with a troubled expression.

"Well…I…uh--" He fell silent after trying to find the words to express his feelings.

"All I know is I want back the woman I married," he said finally.

There was quiet for a short time in the small room. Barbara shifted restlessly in her chair. She bit her lower lip, struggling with something she didn't know how to address.

"Barbara?" Mr. Houston asked.

"That's about the stupidest thing you could want," Barbara said heatedly. This time she was clearly addressing Steve.

Surprised, Steve turned his body on the chair cushions to face her directly.

"Think about it, Steve," she said emphatically. "If you could erase everything that's happened in the past year and we went back to the way we were when we had just gotten married, you would have a whole lot of unhappiness in store because all the problems and immaturity and everything else that I had in me would still be there. I would just be an affair waiting to happen, darn it all. Can't you see that?

"Wouldn't it be better for me to understand myself a lot better and know how I leave myself vulnerable and how a guy can insert himself into my emotions and my life? Wouldn't it be better for me despise what I did so completely that I could never do it again? Isn't that a better way for me to be than that idiot you married, honey?"

Barbara looked at her husband, pleading with her eyes and words for understanding. Steve looked unconvinced for a long time. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat.

"You know…" he said finally. He hadn't opened his eyes. "If you keep using logic when we talk, all these conversations we're having with Mr. Houston are going to be awfully short." His voice was weary, but there was relief in it too. He smiled at the ceiling and sat up.

"Okay," he said quietly. "You're right. It would be a whole lot better if you had never done anything with those men, but since you did and we can't change that fact, I agree…I'd rather have a wife who knows what a "terrible" thing it is she had done." He brooded for a small space.

"But how do I know you won't do it again…how do I trust you again. I…uh…I kinda feel like trust is like your virginity. Once it's gone…it's gone…permanently, right?"

"Not necessarily," Verne interjected. "Excuse me but let me explain something that's been the subject of a lot of research, okay?" Steve and Barbara sat back and waited for the counselor to speak.

"Simply put, trust…and love too…are a product of a…sometimes lengthy…period of one person being with another person." He waited, looking back at the two people he was trying to help. They were waiting for his next remark.

"That's it," he said cheerfully. "That's all I had to say."

He smiled at the couple before him. He watched as they mulled over what he'd said. Steve took a deep breath, attracting Verne's attention.

"Okay," Steve said slowly, "you mean I can only learn to trust my wife again by being with her and learning to trust…borrowing from what she said earlier…learning to trust who she is now?"

Mr. Houston beamed at Steve as a teacher would an especially perceptive pupil who'd just explained the difficult problem on the blackboard.

********

"What'd he say about love?" Lydia asked her granddaughter the next afternoon.

"What did who say about love?" Barbara answered, confused.

"You said the counselor said trust and love come about after a man and a woman are together for some time," Lydia explained patiently. "And Steve said he saw he might could learn to trust you after being with you for a long while, right? So…what did Steve say about loving you?"

Barbara sniffed and looked at her grandmother.

"Close enough, I guess. Well, Steve didn't say anything about it," she admitted. "Maybe he didn't hear Mr. Houston," she said hesitantly.

"Oh…Toro pooh-pooh!" Lydia said emphatically. "Bull shit. No, honey, your husband likes for other folks to underestimate him. He doesn't care for people to know how smart he is, but he would never have missed something like that…you know better than that." She tapped a fingernail against her upper teeth.

"But…" she said contemplatively, "he didn't rule it out either, did he?" She thought for a long while.

"Yeah…I think that's a good sign, Barbie-girl. If your hubby had a disagreement with what Mr. Houston said, he would have told you and Houston both and probably done it pretty forcefully too, if I know that boy." Lydia smiled.

"So…since he didn't…let's say the glass is half full instead of half empty." She thought a little longer, smiling all the while.

"Okay," she said briskly, "so what do we do to fill that glass up, child?"

Barbara looked confused.

Lydia patted Barbara's cheek gently.

"We got past one humongous hurdle, sugar. You're back home with him and, like your Mr. Houston said, that's awfully, awfully important. What we have to do is work a little bit harder and this man will be right back in love you in no time at all. So…what are you going to set up to make that happen?"

********

"Hey, Big Guy," she said into her cell phone.

"Hi, Barb. What's up?" Steve replied. He leaned back in his office chair and smiled into space in spite of himself. He was beginning to appreciate hearing from his wife once or twice a day.

"I was thinking if you didn't have other plans…maybe you'd like to go to Ramon's tonight for dinner," Barbara said in a cheerful voice. Steve was silent for an instant.

"Are you asking…is this a date?" Steve asked.

"You bet your sweet ass it is," Barbara shot back happily. She waited.

"Ramon's sounds good," Steve said. "Do I get to drive or will you pick me up?" he asked.

Barbara heard the amusement in his voice.

"You better drive," she said, laughing. "I've been having dreams about one of those big margaritas they have there."

Steve laughed with her.

"Sounds good. I'll be home about six, okay?"

"Great, I'll make the reservations for seven-thirty then," Barbara replied. Her heart was singing.

"See you then, Barb," Steve said. "Talk to you later."

"Bye, honey," Barb said.

For a moment, she wondered if she'd gone too far, but there was only the distant click as Steve hung up. She was disappointed, but encouraged too. He hadn't responded in kind, but he hadn't refused the endearment either. They were getting closer. She was going to make her husband fall in love with her all over again and this was another step on that road.

This was going to be such a good night. Nony had guaranteed her it would be.

Chapter 9 - Late January

He'd been sick, off and on, since the beginning of the year. First, it had been a nasty case of the flu that sapped his energy and put him in bed for four days. It should have been longer but he refused to stay down that long. Next it had been a stomach virus everyone said was "going around," and although it didn't make Steve take off work, he was clearly miserable and wasn't making any new friends at work. Now, it seemed he just didn't have any energy. He was tired all the time and regularly came home from work exhausted. Strangely, he was often unable to sleep.

Barbara was worrying herself sick about her husband. Just when there were hopeful signs in their relationship, he seemed to be getting sicker and sicker. She thought she knew why.

********

When Steve got home, Barbara wasn't there. He'd known she wouldn't be. She'd told him that morning she was going to visit her grandmother that evening and she'd be home about 10:00 PM.

She'd offered, as she always did these days, to call him from her grandmother's phone every so often while she was there so he could know she was actually there. Steve refused, as he always did. He had no intention of treating her like a misbehaving child, he told her.

He had a couple of drinks on the way home, something he'd almost given up during the long separation from his wife. His brother Jon had called, though, and wanted Steve to meet him somewhere. They didn't get together often enough, Jon said. What he really wanted was an update on how he and Barbara were getting along and Steve knew it. That was fine. Months of counseling had let him open up a lot more than he'd ever been able to do before. He especially didn't mind talking to his brother.

He was tired, he was beginning to feel the effects of the liquor, and he was hungry when he finally made it home. He tossed his briefcase on the couch and watched to make sure it didn't bounce off onto the floor. There were some reports in there he needed to go over with Barb, but they could wait.

In the kitchen, he made himself a couple of sandwiches, dropped a handful of chips on a plate and was making good progress on gulping it all down when the phone on the wall next to him rang. He hadn't been expecting it and he inhaled involuntarily. The better part of two potato chips went down the wrong way. When he answered, his voice was hoarse and ragged.

"Hello?" he gasped.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Barbara asked anxiously. She listened as her husband coughed harshly. He'd put his hand over the mouthpiece, but she could still hear the muffled coughs.

"Just eating some chips and a sandwich," Steve said in a strained voice. He cleared his throat, coughed once more, and tried again.

"Ahhhhhhh," he said, drawing out the word experimentally. "There…I think I'm all better," he said. His voice was stronger, though the hoarseness remained.

"Are you all right?" Barbara asked.

"Yeah…the phone caught me by surprise when it rang," Steve explained. "I choked on a potato chip."

They talked for a few minutes and then Barbara passed the phone to Lydia. Sometimes, even though Steve never asked, Barbara felt better if he had some verification of where she was. When Lydia hung up, Steve finished his sandwich, took a shower, and went to bed.

Barbara was still anxious when she got home, but Steve was in bed asleep. The booze had had its effect on him and he barely roused when she slipped into bed beside him. She touched his shoulder and stroked it gently as she listened to him breathe. It sounded a little rough, she thought, and maybe he was wheezing a little too.

She looked at his body. He'd lost a good ten pounds just since the first of the year. It had to be something serious but he kept telling her not to worry.

********

He was back on South Padre Island. They were on their honeymoon. Barbara and he had sneaked hand in hand behind some sand dunes. She had pushed him flat on the beach blanket and yanked his swimsuit down before straddling him and guiding him into her.

She'd eased herself down on him, driving his prick deep inside. Her gasping pleasure at the feeling of his dick invading her vagina had aroused him even more than he'd already been. She'd begun riding him cowgirl style, varying hard back and forth thrusts by rising straight up and letting her weight pull her back down on his cock.

He couldn't get his swimming trunks off his feet; he kept trying but they were tangled around his ankles and he could not get them off. It was distracting him when he wanted to pay attention to his new wife's lovely dangling breasts dancing so beautifully before his eyes. If he could just get his suit off so he could thrust up inside her more strongly…

Steve woke slowly, spending a long time in that limbo between wakefulness and sleep. He didn't want to let it go. It was such a great dream.

"Unh, unh, unh, unh," Barbara grunted as she pushed her cunt down over Steve's hardness. Her nightgown was gathered around her waist, the top almost off her shoulders.

She was setting a hard, fast pace without any grace to it. She moaned, her lips pressed into the hollow of his shoulder as she felt her orgasm beginning to rise. Frantically, Barbara tried to squeeze her husband's penis with her vagina muscles. She wanted Steve to spend himself inside her, flooding her with his hot cum. She could feel him beginning to rouse. She had to get this done before he awakened completely and stopped her.

Steve began to work with her, setting a strong rhythm that rammed his cock deep inside his woman. It had been so long. He couldn't hold back much longer. When Barbara's vagina muscles began squeezing the head and shaft of his cock, he lost control.

Abruptly, his climax was there. He shoved his hips up hard to meet Barbara's down thrust. Straining, he held himself deep inside her and pumped spurt after spurt of white-grey cum into her vagina. He was cumming long after he thought it had to end.

"AAARRRGGH…" he bellowed. He couldn't help himself. It was the spur Barbara needed to get over the threshold herself.

"STEEEEEVE…" she cried. The two worked themselves against the other, rubbing their groins together in a final paroxysm of carnal lust. Barbara's strength deserted her. She collapsed atop her husband. They lay that way for a time, breathing hard and relaxing in the afterglow of their sexual union. Barbara rolled off him and lay on her back beside him. She stared up at a ceiling hidden in the darkness.

Steve chuckled. He felt good, truly alive for the first time in many months. He'd missed this. He hadn't known until this moment how much he'd missed it.

"Now, what was that all about?" he asked his wife in a soft voice. She didn't answer at first.

"I don't want you to die and leave me alone," Barbara sobbed.

Steve couldn't make any sense of her words. He was still not completely alert after having been awakened so abruptly. He turned on his side and reached out a hand to caress her soft belly. This was the first time they'd had sex in almost a year, but they'd begun accepting small, affectionate touches from each other since Barbara had moved back in.

Steve was surprised to find his wife was trembling as she lay next to him. Abruptly, he was wide awake. He rolled up on his elbow. He couldn't see his wife's face, but he didn't need to. He knew it so well he could picture the tears flowing from her eyes.

"Barbara, what's wrong?" he asked quietly. His wife didn't answer for a while.

"I don't want you to die," she whimpered, "and I couldn't stand living without you," she sobbed between hiccups. "Now I'm going to die too."