Ownership

Ownership, Part III

Aaron

I'm unloading the dishwasher, putting glasses in a certain cupboard, dishes in another. I'll have to relearn where everything is in just a few days when we're in the new house. Shannon's bound to have a whole new plan.

I hear her come out of our bedroom, her feet on carpet then on tile. Not many steps between the two places in this duplex; her walk's going to be a lot longer soon.

She comes around the corner in her white robe, holding the burner phone. That means Kevin. She looks pissed. Concerned. Tears. Hands it to me.

I read through the entire exchange, then the bottom two lines jolt the fuck out of me:

S: Where?

K: Your new house.

Kevin

The second overnight was always going to be there. It's the place this whole deal was always about. When I started writing up the plan, that was the first thing I put down. The highlight. The centerpiece. But I also knew it could be a deal-killer going in. When I looked at the typed-up version, black letters on a white screen, I knew it would jump off the page. Might has well have been in bold red letters. And I couldn't let it couldn't be a negotiation chit. Couldn't be a debate. I highlightedYour New Housewith my cursor and typed over it with three easy letters:TBD.

And it never came up in negotiations. Never. I'm sure they figured a hotel somewhere, as impractical as that would be.

I knew when I typed that last text it'd be awhile before I got one back. I sit here on my couch sipping bourbon with a block of ice, Donald Fagen on my speakers.

Aaron

"What. The. Fuck," I say. "That's not happening."

Tears are on her cheeks as she agrees.

"What is he even thinking, Aaron?"

"This shit needs to be over. Now," I say, look from the phone to her. "He can't do shit after we signed the papers. He can't blow the whistle on himself. We sign the papers Friday afternoon and we're done. You can text him 'Go Fuck Yourself' as we pull out of the parking lot."

She's quiet for a moment.

"I don't know," she says.

"What don't you know? What can he possibly do?"

"I don't know what he can do. But I know if we don't do what we said... he could do...something. He could fuck with us some way somehow."

I shake the phone.

"He'salreadyfucking with us," I resist the urge to throw it. This motherfucker.

I look down at the entire text list from this morning, cock my head.

"Why did you ask him if he was going ok?" I ask.

She shrugs her shoulders. "What?"

"On your text. He reaches out and you ask him if he's doing ok. Why?"

"I don't...," she flings her arms up. "I don't know. It's a text. I was being courteous. I was being nice."

"You don't need to be nice.He's not your friend."

She closes her eyes, walks across the room. Picks up a cup on the counter, looks at it. Then she sets it back down, looks into its emptiness.

"What do you think, Aaron? You think I lay there like a board? You think I'm mute, eyes closed? I curl up in a ball in the corner until he's hard again and ready to fuck me once more before I go?"

Jesus.

"I don't know, Shannon. I don't know how you act around him. I don't know...know what the fuck happens when you're over there."

"Fuck! We talk. It'shours, Aaron. We talk. He cooks food. Drink wine. Normal stuff."

"So, what? Now he's like a buddy?" I ask. It's all spilling out of me and I know I should be keeping it in but I just can't stop the flow. She's crying hard now, mouth open, searching for words.

"What the fuck do you want from me?" she yells and breaks down. I look upstairs. Chloe's door is still closed.

I look back at the phone. Press on the text, press on his phone number. Shannon looks at me.

"What are you doing? Don't do that, Aaron," she steps towards me and I step back, moving the phone to my ear.

Kevin

The phone rattles in my hand, makes a sound. It takes me a second to realize its ringing -- it's just never happened before. I answer.

"Shannon?"

"You motherfucker," says a male voice. A really angry male voice.

"Aaron?"

"What the fuck are you trying to?" he yells.

"Aaron, you aren't supposed to be calling me. You and I aren't supposed to have any communication at all. Remember?"

"Our fucking house? Our house? You know that's never going to happen, right? You know this whole thing is fuckingover, right?"

I pause. Take a sip of the bourbon, which I have to say is really starting to open up.

"So, you guys are formally done? I can review the papers again tomorrow?"

It's quiet on the other end, so I stay quiet, too. I want to let that sink in nice and deeply.

"What if I blow the whistle on you?" he finally asks, threat in his voice. I'm ready for that.

"You mean what if you blow the whistle onyou?" I ask him.

It's silent, but I hear him breathing. I think I hear her crying in the background. I don't like that at all. I take another sip, take a deep breath.

"You can blow me up, Aaron," I start. I can still hear him breathing fast as I pause again. "You can absolutely blow me up. And I can be arrested and have to retire. Maybe I'll have to do a week or two shock time, then I fly to an ocean somewhere and I live out my life or I drive off a cliff. But you? You keep going, Aaron, the whole world knowing what you did. And while the courts will say you're a victim, I bet no one else will. No one in the fucking world. I sure bet Shannon's parents won't."

He's still breathing on the other end, but a little louder.

"I bet Chloe won't when her friends tell her at some slumber party ten years from now. Heck, maybe eight years. What age do girls have slumber parties these days?" I ask. I really don't know.

I really am waiting for an answer. The phone goes dead.

Aaron

I almost throw the phone again, but don't. I know I've got to calm down.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Shannon asks me, her voice shockingly calm. I think she knows we both can't spin out at once, so she's going to be the calm one. I don't really have an answer for her.

"What did he say?" She wants to know.

"He was a dick. Didn't say a ton," I lie. Something tells me he won't tell her what he told me, them being so friendly and all.

"So, is it over?" she asks.

"I don't think he thinks it is," I tell her.

"So, what does that mean?"

"I don't know," I say. "What do you want to do?"

She thinks for a minute. I feel the room energy calming a little. I can now hear music playing. It had to be there all along, but I didn't hear it at all a few minutes ago. Shannon looks at me and I think about how beautiful her mouth is as it starts forming words again.

"I think we made a deal, Aaron. If we don't live up to it then...," she flails her hands, probably more wildly than she intends to. "Then we'll be looking over our shoulder forever. We'll know there's someone out there we've wronged..."

"Wronged?" I interrupt. "Wronged? He's wronged us."

"Someone whothinksthey've been wronged, then," she shrugs. "Someone who would...could...screw things up for us somehow."

"He could do that anyway," I say.

"He wouldn't," she answers.

I feel my neck flush.

"No, seeing how he's such a good friend."

That sets her off. She grabs the phone out of my hand.

"You know what, Aaron? Screw you. This whole time I've had to tiptoe around you.I'mthe one having to fuck a stranger.I'mthe one getting groped and licked and bitten and treated like some sort of...thing. But then when I come home it's all about poor Aaron. 'What did you guys do? Tell me so I'm not scared.'"

She stops to cry a little. I know I pushed her too far. The music seems gone again. Chloe's door is still shut, but I'm not sure I hear her playing. I step towards Shannon, but she holds up a hand.

"When he made the offer at first I was sure you'd turn it down," she says.

I recoil a little, take a baby step back. I'm sure my eyes look wide to her as she searches them to see if I know what I've let happen. In that one quick second I can see the water is deeper than I expected. Maybe we're in an ocean. Maybe we're drowning.

"Why would you ever want to let your wife sleep with anyone else?" She chokes it out. "Your wife who'd only slept with you, ever. Why would you give me up?"

She's looking me right in the eyes. I start to answer but the words burst out of her mouth, trampling mine.

"But you were okay with it," she says, answering whatever she thought I was going to say before I even say it. Her is voice low and factual, like's she's confirming my dinner request.

Now it's quiet. Super quiet, but not in my head. My voice raises with frustration.

"You said you wanted to do it! Who says they are okay with it if they aren't?" I ask.

She starts crying again. Catches her breath, her tears not cooling down the flames in her eyes.

"I thought you'd tell me no! I thought you'd tell me it wasn't worth it," the words tumble out of her mouth quickly.

I shake my head, look down. I tell myself I don't know what to believe. But she never really lies.

I go on the defensive.

"I just felt so bad that I couldn't give you what you want," I start. "That I can't get you a house already. That I can't give you a home. I just wanted to give you what you deserve."

She turns her back on my for a moment and I watch her shoulders heave as she responds.

"And I feel bad that I don't have a job that pays money. I don't help at all with that part. So, in one part of my mind this was a way I could give back. But probably, Aaron, probably I thought me offering would be enough."

"I thought you wanted to. You've only ever been with me..."

She turns back around, and I can tell she's not even comprehending my logic. Her voice raises even more.

"Yes! I've only ever been with you. That was special to me. I liked knowing it. I knew you'd fucked other girls along the way, but you were the one and only for me. That mattered. That was a bond. I'd think it would have mattered to you, too," she sobs for a second, then steps towards me just a bit. "But you're thinking I'm thinking like you. I know if it was you who'd only had one lover, you'd be thinking 'what's it like fucking other people?' 'What's it like to be with someone else?'"

"And you've never, ever wondered?" I ask.

"Even a little? If you'd just tell the fucking truth it'd be easier to believe you on this stuff," I say, throwing my hands up in frustration.

I can tell she's is trying to organize her thoughts carefully.

"Do I occasionally wonder? Probably, although not really that much," her tone sounds like she's suddenly conscious of trying to meet me on my level, somehow. "I'm happy with you. I feel safe with you. I like sharing something that is...that was...only for you. Yeah, sometimes somebody looks cute. Sometimes I daydream like everyone else. But I never wanted to turn anything into reality. I like the emotional connection it gives me to you. I never, ever for a second wanted to have you on top of me wondering if I'm thinking of you or someone else."

"And do you now?"

"No! I don't," she says. "But that's just it. I know there's a doubt inyourmind."

"And you don't compare us? You don't feel any emotional connection with him? Doesn't sex always cause some emotional connection?"

She pauses.

"My only emotional connection is with you, Aaron."

More crying. I stand there. The phone buzzes in her hand -- a new text.

Saturday, July 7th, 3:06pm

K: Shannon? Are you holding the phone?

S: Yes. It's me.

K: There's an issue with Friday night? I really don't want there to be.

S: No. There's no issue.

K: Good. I'll be sure to be gone before the movers or Aaron arrive.

S: Fine.

K: I wish you wouldn't let Aaron use this phone. You know he's not supposed to contact me.

S: I know. Sorry about that.

K: It's a pretty clear violation.

S: Yes.

K: That means one extra visit, according to the agreement.

S: Yes.

K: Does Monday after work work for you?

S: Fine.

Aaron

I stand there as she types, reads, types again, reads, each buzz making me more curious. Finally, the phone is still in her hand. Thirty seconds pass. A minute. She looks at me.

"If I hand you the phone, will you promise not to do anything else to make this worse? No calls. No texting. Nothing?"

"Promise," I say. I'm telling myself as much as I'm telling her.

She hands me the phone. I read it all.

"So, it's all going to happen," I say. I sound like I'm blaming her for the decision and I feel a little bad about that. Deep down I now know this probablydoesneed to happen. But if I tell her about the threats he made...well, that won't make things better.

"I don't see any other way," she says softly. We can both hear Chloe talking to herself in her room, playing something.

"I'm sorry about the extra session," I say, and I really am.

"Yeah," she says, voice breaking. "Thanks for that."

"This is so fucked up," I say, shaking my head.

"It's almost over," she says, but she doesn't seem to be nearly as frustrated as I am. And suddenly it's not as close to over as it seemed.

"Yeah, just a bunch more days I have to sit alone thinking about this," I say as I start to walk towards the family room.

She slams her hand on the table. I'm shocked by the sudden emotion and turn around to face her. She looks at me for a while. I start to say something but her face warns me not to. Chloe laughs upstairs.

"Yeah, poor Aaron," she's almost seething. "All this talk. All these tears and it still revolves around you and your ego and imagination. Thinking the worst of what's happening. Thinking the worst ofmejust because you are all alone in a room while it's happening. All you see is monsters in the darkness. And all I do is deal with them in person."

She turns and walks out of the room, upstairs to Chloe. A few minutes later they come down, Shannon's eyes still puffy from crying.

"Chloe and I are going to go to the park," she says. "We'll be back later."

"You'll be back?" I ask.

Shannon swallows hard. Chloe looks up at her, then at me as Shannon answers.

"That shouldn't even be a question."

Kevin

I'm upstairs, looking out the window at the endless swim party, one boy maybe sixteen skimming the pool as three girls and one other boy lay on lounge chairs, all in some stage of interacting with their phones. I'm shaking my head at their inability to grasp the present when my Uber app tells me Shannon has arrived.

I'm pretty giddy to get a bonus session (penalty session sounds so punitive) but I'm also not one hundred percent sure that she's going to be all sweetness and light. I sit on the bed, considering what to say when I greet her when I actually hear the front door open. She's finally letting herself in. A little progress.

I hear her on the steps, then see her feet in front of my closed door through the space between door and carpet. She stands there.

"You can come in, Shannon."

Still nothing. Maybe twenty seconds pass, a couple faint sounds, before the doorknob turns and she walks in. She walks in nude, reminding me of the first time she walked into my bedroom out of the bathroom. She's not shy, I guess.

I sit up a little on the bed, my eyes at the moment focusing on the flesh around her navel. My mouth waters, me imagining its smell. I smile.

"And I thought you might be mad."

She stands there, hands on her hips. As I continue to gaze upon her, I'm always so amazed at how her breasts sit on her chest. This era of women with implants really makes it easier to appreciate the natural curve, the natural sit of a breast. The inverted curve above the nipple, a blueprint for a solid ski jump. The rounded areolae specific to Shannon's. The brownish pink color that no crayon, no market, no paint can really duplicate. And the amazing texture, the slight and sensuous give...

"You thought I might be mad?" she asks, but her voice is thick with tone.

I might have misunderstood the message intended by her nude entrance. My first instincts were right after all.

"You thought I might be mad because you are bringing this...this bullshit into our new home? You thought I might be mad that you baited Aaron into giving you yet another chance to fuck me?"

"I'm confused. Why are you naked? Kind of looks like you're ready to be fucked," I work on keeping my voice calm, even inquisitive.

She starts walking towards the bed.

"Yup. I am. Why pretend you give a shit about me? Why make me meals and give me wine? Why not just fucking use my body? I'm nothing but something to use. Something you to enjoy and spurt cum all over. Something for Aaron to be possessive of," she starts crying. Sits down on the bed in surrender.

She cries for a minute or two. I resist the urge to put a hand on her back in consolation. I look at the softness of her light brown skin and its contrast with the untanned lines where her bikini top clearly sits sit as she lays in the sun.

Finally, she stops for a minute. Turns her head towards me.

"Why?"

I wait to see if there's any more for her to say, but I know what she's asking.

"Why the house?" I try to confirm.

"Yes, Kevin," she half-whispers, clearly a little annoyed I'm pretending not to know. "Why the house."

"The house? The house is the whole reason this is all happening," I say. "That's why you both agreed to all of this. It's why we're all where we are. Of course it would be part of this."

She pulls back the sheets, slips under them. I'm still on top of the covers on my side.

"Of course it would be part of this," she whispers.

I sit in the quiet.

"I hope this didn't cause problems between you two," I say. "I mean, the house part."

She doesn't look at me.

"You have to be kidding," she says, then starts to cry softly.

I stand up and slip under the covers, my shorts and shirt still on.

She looks over.

"Time to fuck me? Fuck the crying girl?" she sobs.

I'm quiet again. I'll be honest, part of me finds that thought appealing, her sobbing uncontrollably as I climb on top of her. I think about moving inside her slowly, sounds from her mouth inches away from my ear, me kissing and licking the tears from her face. If I stick a finger in her ass I'd know if it clenched and loosens when she cries. I'm starting to stiffen.

But I can't bring myself to do it. There was a time when I'd have known whether to be proud or ashamed about that, but that era is deep under a lot of more recent calendars now. I lay out my arm, beckon her to come rest her head on my shoulder, which - after maybe twenty seconds - she does. I curl my arm around her bare back, my hand on her warm, warm skin. As I hug her closer, she starts to cry harder. Soon my blue and white-checked shirt is damp with her tears.

After a bit her crying slows and she quiets. A few minutes after that I realize she's asleep. Her face looks innocent all the time, but it looks so peaceful right now, just like it looked so clouded from the moment she walked in. I wonder if she's sleeping more during all of this. Then I wonder if she's sleeping more to get away from the memories and specter of me. Do I show up in her dreams? Or are her dreams absent of me altogether? Either way, inside her head she's wherever she goes when she sleeps, and that's where she remains for the next three hours, when I finally wake her up and tell her it's soon time to go. She shakes her head.

"I'm not coming back another time because I didn't do you this time," she says.

"This counts," I say. She's confused or thankful or grateful. At the moment I'm not up for figuring it out. I pull the covers back on my side and swing my legs to the floor.