All That Blooms in Spring Ch. 03-04

The next morning, I was relaxed and eating some cereal when Ann and Dalton arrived. Ann's façade didn't appear to be holding up. She seemed distant, and when Dalton said, "Isn't that right, dear?" he had to repeat what, precisely, was 'right.' Dalton did most of the talking, and I said very little. He eventually realized that both Ann and I were lost in our thoughts, so he bid a hasty farewell on their behalf. Ann shook my hand again, and turned quickly to exit.

"Give my best to Ralph, will ya?" I said in an upbeat manner as they got to the door. "How is the old bugger anyway?"

Ann stopped dead in her tracks, but otherwise didn't react. That was enough for me. Dalton turned back toward me with a 'if looks could kill' glance. Smiling at him - mostly smirking - I held my index finger to my throat. As I slowly swiped it right to left, I said, "I'd watch my back if I were you."

As soon as I said it, I knew I shouldn't have. The knowledge that I had been, and was still being, lied to could only provide so much comfort. It was also pissing me off. That anger had finally come rushing out. I'd had to tip my hand regardless, but I hadn't had to outright threaten one of the conspirators.

He turned to Ann and quickly ushered her out with not another word. Maybe ten seconds later, his head peeked through the door.

"You're in no position to make idle threats," he said seriously, almost piteously. "Go home to your old life - and your wife - and consider yourself very lucky... because you are." He was gone nearly before the last word left his tongue.

Late on my final afternoon at the hospital, I asked for Dr. Barnes. When he arrived, I went straight at him.

"I'm sure you were given little or no choice," I deadpanned, "but I know about this sham. I want to know why, and I want to know now, or you and this hospital will be feeling my wrath."

Barnes was a cool character. It dawned on me that he might even be impersonating a doctor. "I don't know what you're insinuating, but head injuries can often cause confusion, paranoia and even hallucinations," he said. If this gets worse, you might need to be institutionalized for further and ongoing evaluation."

I didn't exactly need to read between the lines, to understand the implied threat. Needless to say, I didn't eat that evenings' meal or breakfast the following morning. I only pretended to take the meds.

Jackie came in dressed to the nines, looking and acting bright and chipper - like a Stepford wife. I'd really thought she couldn't disgust me any further, but I was mistaken. She brought me some new clothing: a new pair of jeans, and a button down casual shirt. I asked her what was wrong with all of the clothes I already owned, and she just shrugged. She could have pointed out that all of my clothes were now a bit too big for me, and at least she'd have been correct. As it was, she just bought more clothes in the same size as all the others, and they just hung from my now smaller frame.

The first part of our drive was tense. Jackie did almost all the talking, telling me how happy her family was that I was recovering and would be fine. She talked about a few of my work mates who'd sent cards or stopped at the house. But she ran out of steam pretty quickly, and realized that I wasn't going to participate in conversation. The car became quiet then, for a good half hour - until we reached Los Banos. Off to my right, I saw a run-down mall, and I excitedly asked Jackie to pull off.

She asked a million questions, as she walked into the mall with me, and most of them went unanswered. I steered us towards as a Ross' Dress For Less.

"What are you doing, Pete?" she asked in an irritated tone.

"Getting some new clothes," I answered flatly.

"What? Why?" Her irritation turned to worry. "Those are new," she declared, waving her hand from my head to foot.

"They're itchy," was my only reply.

I found a polo shirt and a pair of pants that fit me, but didn't in any way match the shirt. I put them on in the dressing room, and dumped the clothes Jackie had brought me in a bin just outside the entrance to the changing room. My wife was aghast.

The irritation returned as we got to the car.

"Pete," she started, "what's going on? What's wrong with you? I don't understand why you did that. I think you should take one of your pills."

"What pills?" I asked.

"The ones Dr. Barnes prescribed, of course."

I should have thrown them out the window, but I thought that would be too dramatic. I just sat back in my seat and stared ahead. Jackie had started the car, but left it in Park. She reached for my face, and tried to turn it towards hers.

"Pete," she asked pleadingly, "what is it? What's going on in there?" She tapped my temple lightly.

I turned to face her, then, and gave her what I intended to be an impetuous glare that also said really?

Jackie might have lost her mind out of lust for Todd and Jeff that night back in March, but she wasn't a stupid woman in general. Even in her alcohol and lust-fueled haze, she had to have known she'd taken a huge risk that night at the camp. She definitely knew by the look on my face that, whatever was going on now, the risk was immensely greater. I could see in her eyes, her brain working overtime to figure out what to say next - a parachute out of the conversation. I decided to help her out.

"I'm suddenly very tired," I told her, adding a fake yawn. "We'll have to have this conversation later." I turned to look out the passenger window and closed my eyes. It gave me the luxury of more time to think, but I knew that it afforded her the same.

An hour and a half later, we were entering our old home. It didn't feel the same or hold any meaning to me, except as a dwelling I half-owned. I walked down the hall to ensure that Jackie had made the proper sleeping arrangements.

I sat down on the bed - more like plopped - and tried to decide how I was going to play out the rest of the day. I was relieved to no longer be trapped in a car with my wife. In fact, I felt good enough to leave the house for a while if things got out of hand.

When I heard something, I looked up, and there was Jackie in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, watching me expectantly.

"I know you're still upset with me, Pete," she said, passively, "and I know we need to talk about everything... you know, from before the accident. I didn't... don't want to overwhelm you on your first day back, but I want you to know I love you very much. I'm hoping that after we do talk, you won't shut me out too long. I've missed you tremendously, and I want you - us - back to the way we were."

I'd steadied myself on the ride home, but I was overcome with all the emotions then, being in our old house together, and couldn't hold back, just like when I'd had to take that potshot at Dalton.

"Why?" I asked sarcastically. "I'd think the way we left it you already had everything you wanted. I'm just a liability now, and in your way. Let's not kid ourselves. I'm sure someone's been keeping you warm in our bed all these months - a couple of someones, if my guess is right."

"You're wrong, Pete," she said quietly as she crossed the room and sat beside me. "I regret what I did that night - more than you'll ever know. Regardless, you need to know we never slept... we didn't have sex that night, or any night."

I grumbled my disbelief.

"It's true," she insisted. "God, I didn't want to do this today. That night, Alise came barging in, telling us that Amber was sick and passed out drunk, and that you'd left on foot in the dark. Nothing happened. I got dr... we went out with Jeff to find you, and Alise stayed with Amber in her cabin. We looked everywhere we could think to look. We followed the trails with flashlights and called out for you. When we finally gave up for the night, we went back to the main cabin. I lost it, and Alise stayed up with me for quite a while trying to comfort me. I slept on the sofa.

"In the morning, you weren't back, so I started thinking the worst. Jeff and Todd went out again trying to find you, and finally, when they came back empty-handed, we all decided to go to a phone and call for help."

"Ten thirty-four" I said coldly. "And you were about to say 'got dressed' so that means you were about to have sex with him. If Todd's wife wouldn't have been so worried about my wellbeing, you and lover boy would have been fucking the night away while I lay fighting for my life in a ravine."

"Why did you say that number?" she asked, ignoring my accusation.

"It's a time, not a number," I replied. "It's the time when authorities were notified about my disappearance. So, I don't necessarily buy your sob story."

"How could you possibly know that?" she asked, her face all screwed up. "Have you somehow been watching old news clips these past few days in the hospital?"

"No, Jackie," I responded, suddenly wishing that I, too, had delayed the confrontation further. "I watched them the first time I recovered from my injuries. But you already know that. Whatever you're covering up will come out eventually. You must know by now that I don't really believe I just woke up a few days ago, or that the last few months were some sort of dream. If you're telling the truth about that night, then all I can say is that at least one of us remained faithful to our vows."

Jackie gasped and ran out of the room. I'd confirmed to her my relationship with Ann had been more than as a doctor-patient. I had no idea why it was a big deal to her. She'd unilaterally given us both permission to cheat, but maybe she wasn't keen on my taking it outside the group. Still, she was hiding something. That something was big, whatever it was. Maybe she thought if we could focus on our pre-accident marital issues, it would just go away. That was not going to happen. Regardless, I'd overplayed my hand again. I had no allies and no plans. All I could think to do was spy on Jackie for the next few days, and I knew that that was going to be extremely difficult. Between the two of us, it was far easier for her to get away from me to have a private conversation.

I left her alone for the rest of the day. After getting settled, I grabbed my laptop to get reacquainted with what had been happening in my absence, and to check our finances. My trust in Jackie had evaporated long before my struggle with Dalton at that Lee Vining, California gas mart.

Almost immediately, I realized that the laptop wasn't mine. Someone had gone to great lengths to ensure I'd think it was, though. All of my files were meticulously set up exactly as I had left them. Even some embedded files that I'd hidden in sub-folders were there. The computer was the same make and model. Had it not been for the missing scuff mark on the back left corner, where I'd once dropped it, I'd have never noticed. I worried seriously about my own safety then. I was all but certain at that point that 'Dalton' was another nameless guy in a black suit.

The three-day weekend that followed was the longest and tensest of my life. Jackie moped around on Friday, seemingly unable to determine a course of action. Saturday and Sunday set the tone for our short-term future as we hobbled around each other like roommates.

I was very happy to return to work that Monday. The 'welcome back' was heartfelt and a little overwhelming for me. Seeing several of my work mates with tears in their eyes made me feel normal, despite how unprecedented it was. Unfortunately, that feeling didn't last long. There was a new guy on our team, and not someone who'd replaced me. Steve was his name, and I instantly got the sense that he was there to watch me. I ignored his feeble attempts to befriend me, and kept my head on a swivel around him. For all I knew, he was just a friendly new guy - but that was the problem. I knew I didn't know enough.

Two of my friends in hardware were more than curious when I asked them to throw me together a new laptop, but considering I'd come back from the dead, they obliged. A few days later, I had a rebuild, and it worked better and faster than the new one I had at home. In my office, I spent some time downloading a few security software programs. I paid for them with a loan I'd taken against my 401K. Cashing out the measly twenty-six thousand and change would have taken a while, but a fifty percent loan was immediate. I put the money in a new account at a different bank.

Jackie made a wonderful meal my first night home from work. She wanted to celebrate. I enjoyed the food and the effort, and I complimented her. Beyond that, we said very little to each other. That set the tone for the next few weeks. She clearly wasn't planning on 'talking' anymore. I didn't know if it had to do with what I'd alluded to with Ann, or if it was some sort of strategy on her part. It was as if she was hoping I'd just either forget everything, or get over it, or both. If she knew I wasn't going to accept the alternative past they'd tried to spoon-feed me, then she surely knew I wouldn't warm up to her either.

My first two visits to the neurologist were pleasantly normal. I suspected nothing less, having already recovered from a near death experience, but as far I was concerned, the doctor was in on everything. I noticed Jackie spent some time speaking with him after I was finished. Based on what I thought was happening, that didn't surprise me either.

The silence in our home became worse over the following two weeks. Silence became uneasiness, and we often retreated to our respective corners without ever taking a swing. The extra time in my room with the door closed, allowed me to formulate a plan of action. My top priority was to gain as much intel as possible about Ann, and everyone else involved, and then going through the motions of assimilating back into my former life. I didn't want to risk causing Ann any more trouble than I suspected she was already in.

After the second week, Jackie became even more frustrated and changed her tack. It was fascinating and unsettling to watch the woman I married strutting around the house in sexy outfits, offering to get me this or that, doing her best approximation of a sultry voice. My treating her like it was a normal Sunday morning, created even more animosity. After a burst of effort, everything in our once-warm home went cold.

On a Tuesday, three weeks after my return home, Jackie came in after work with some Chinese take-out. As we were finishing dinner she said the first words since we'd sat down.

"I've invited our friends over Friday night," she told me nonchalantly. "Maybe it will help, and we... I need..."

"Nope," I interrupted, "not happening."

"But, Pete," she pleaded, "we need some company - some companionship, Pete. This cold shoulder thing... it's driving me crazy. I think it will help to socialize a bit, until we can get back on track."

The idea that she really believed we'd ever 'get back on track,' infuriated me to my core. Mostly, I was angry with myself for having missed so much about my wife - the many character flaws that were suddenly as glaring as harsh sunlight reflecting off fresh snow. I had to concede I'd missed a few of my own too.

"Jackie," I replied sullenly, "what would ever make you think I'd want anything to do with those people? Talk about a bunch of backstabbers. I never would have suspected they'd go over to the dark side, and steal my wife away with them."

"What are you even talking about?" she asked incredulously. "They're still your friends... and my friends. They were there for me when we thought you were... and then all during your recovery. They care about us... about you. How can you call them that?"

"I'm talking about before my accident, Jackie," I said sadly, but I realized there wasn't any point continuing that conversation. It was like talking to a wall. "Just have them over. I don't care." With that I walked away, and she didn't say anything to try to stop me.

Friday found me sitting in a bar I'd never set foot in before, drinking a Guinness, against doctors' orders. I'd kept my phone off, so Jackie and the rat-bastards wouldn't be able to bother me.

Jackie looked as angry as I'd ever seen her when I walked in at eleven-thirty.

"Okay," she said in a scarily measured and determined voice. "You want the truth. The truth is... I made a horrible mistake thinking you'd go along with what I proposed at the cabin. The truth is, I... we all made a critical mistake, and it led to your accident. The truth is, I can't take any of it back, and I have no idea how to fix it." Halfway through the last sentence, she somehow successfully stifled a deep, guttural sob.

"The truth is," she continued, "I thought you would die before I could ever apologize."

It all sounded good, but I wasn't in the mood for more bullshit. "The truth is," I interrupted, "you imposed, not proposed. You turned your back on me, after I said no, so you could go fuck him. But you know what's worse than the 'sex' in my face - if worse is even possible? It's the fact that you planned all this with those bastards behind my back. You conspired with them, probably for weeks. You conspired with them against the one you supposedly love. They're horrible and insufferable, but you're worse."

"But they're not!" she replied, almost losing her steady demeanor. "Yes, Todd wanted to have sex with me. Alise was sitting right next to him when he admitted it. That was the same day that they told me about the four of them messing around. Amber said she'd always had the hots for you. It was stupid for me to think we could back you into a corner.

"But," she continued, "After we found you, while they had you in an induced coma because of the swelling, I started blaming them. I lashed out at them - mostly Todd - and said things; horrible things that I can't take back. But you know what? They never wavered. They stuck by me when I thought you'd die. They didn't judge me, because they felt just as bad as I did."

"Yeah, great friends," I snorted. "Couldn't wait to cuckold me right to my face. You know what though? For the sake of conversation - if you'd only talked to me about it, I might have gone along - just once, mind you, to see how it went. We're young, and maybe we could have experimented. . But once they floated their little offer that thought never even fucking occurred to you. I'm guessing you've all been cuckolding me for the last four months, too. It's impossible for me to listen to you go on and on about how sad and lonely and guilty you felt without immediately thinking about how you'd use all those things to selfishly justify yourself. You didn't even need that much of an excuse the first time."

"And I'm sorry," she answered, her voice cracking as the façade began to break. "Pete, I can't take that back. You know I'm agnostic, but when you were out, I prayed. I prayed that if you could live, I'd spend every day making up for what I did. That I'd show you how much I love you, and I'd earn your trust again." It wasn't lost on me that she ignored the last part of my accusation.

After a pause and a breath, she dropped the 'but' - you know, that word the separates the bullshit from the real shit. "But this.... this is like my own private hell. You wake up after three months, but you've been having these dreams. Then I find out that you think the dreams really happened. I thought, 'okay, how bad could that be?' But you're in love with this dream - a woman who saved you, and was with you for what? Two-and-a-half hours?

"You come home and it's the same. God, you're paranoid, you're hiding in the spare room, you won't talk to me. God, heh. It's like He's played a shitty joke on me. 'Here's your husband back, good luck.' I don't know what to do, and I can't take it anymore. Our friends thought they could help me - help us both - tonight. I was... I am at the end of my rope."