That Time of Year, Ch. 3: Revealing by teenvixen17

That Time of Year

by H. Jekyll

Chapter 3. Revealing

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In memory of Ruthiev2.

I accept all comments, including negative ones, even insulting ones, whether posted by an anonymous person or someone with a Literotica account. I have never deleted a comment, and I've been doing this a long time. If you post a comment via a Literotica account, I will try to reply directly via Literotica email.

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Everyone likes Rita. And Will didn't seem like such a bad sort, if only he didn't have those awful political beliefs. Everyone, moreover, agrees that things did get a little out of hand at dinner, everyone except Evelyn, of course, who has no end of insulting rants she'd like to use on him. Well, that's Evelyn, whom frankly no one really likes. So, once Rita has started accepting calls, it's Arnold with the apology and invitation.

Dinner. Just Arnold, Rita's friend Donna, Rita herself, and the contrarian.

"We really don't want to outnumber him again."

It's in a nice Greek restaurant, where they can begin with Saganaki and all yell "Opa!" together and get the flame out of the way before the conversation.

It's a truly polite conversation, at that. Almost non-political! Just finding out about each other. For example, all are singletons but Arnold and Donna are jointly interested in Will's background, and they are good at asking questions.

"How long since your divorce?" asks Arnold.

Will is cutting into his roasted leg of lamb and has to lay the cutlery down and look up to answer. "I'm not divorced. I'm a widower."

Rita adds, "Will's wife had cancer."

Of course, everyone gets quiet. They're all respectful and compassionate. It's what you do. Will's background seems to have broken the mood and he's hoping they won't push it, but they do. Donna is the first one to speak.

"I'm so sorry. Like Rita's fiancé?" It's the first Will has heard anything about a fiancé.

"A different type," says Rita, her voice whispery. "Breast cancer." Why hasn't Rita mentioned that? He looks toward her but only for a second before turning back to the group. He won't bring it up if she doesn't want to.

You deserve your privacy.

Everyone glances sideways at each other and it becomes clear that Donna has made afaux pasthat they hope to get past.

"Do you ever talk about it?" Arnold is covering, re-directing the conversation.

"Sometimes. It depends. Well, not really. It's not good dinner conversation. So..." he shrugs

"I imagine it was hard."

"Yeah. Especially the end. But never mind.'

"And you had to watch her go downhill and had to nurse her? I don't think I could." It was Donna.

"Well, it was quick... the second time."

"The second time? She had two cancers?"

"No, a relapse, and it was metastatic."

"Then it killed her fast?"

"I don't like to talk about that." A sip of wine buys him some time.

Arnold decides to share his knowledge. "You know, almost nobody dies of cancer, not directly. Not like a heart attack. It's usually the second of the three reasons on the death certificate. Like, my husband, Luke, died of AIDS but the first listed cause was pneumonia."

Will thinks he understands the party better. Rita has a lot of gay friends and they'd thought he was a homophobe.

"I'm sorry, Arnold."

Arnold shrugs and spreads his hands in a "whatcha gonna do" gesture. Rita is uncomfortable, but Arnold and Donna aren't paying her any attention. Will wonders how he'll answer if Arnold moves on to the obvious question, which he does.

"Can I ask what she died of? I mean the immediate cause?"

Let it hang. Oh, get it over with.

"Okay." It's hard to get out, why he doesn't tell people. He turns to Rita. "I was going to tell you, just not around other people."

She doesn't understand.

"My wife died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound."

Now it gets completely still at the table. Rita turns toward Will but leans away, and her eyes -- she's shocked -- but she doesn't say a word. When Will looks over at her, she mouths a word -- it looks like 'why' -- but that's it. He shakes his head and says in a quiet voice, "I've never talked about it, not outside the immediate family..."

"Were you worried she might use a gun?" It's Arnold again.

"No. That was the surprising... the really surprising thing, because we'd never owned a gun." A right winger without a gun? That's what Donna and Arnold seem to be thinking, just as Rita had. They are all waiting. "She'd planned it. She bought a pistol a week before. I know exactly when because she almost never drove but she'd taken the car. She'd gone to a local gun shop." He thinks about it. "It was a little gun. They call it a micro nine. She told them she wanted one for protection, and she asked where she could get lessons. She apparently did that to lull them. She actually went to an on-line tutorial to figure out how to use it."

"How do you know all that?" It's Arnold again. Rita reaches over and puts a hand on Will's arm. She's still silent.

"From the police. I was the one who found her body, who reported it, and they had to check me out. You know. It's always the husband. So, they investigated, and the gun store people remembered her."

Donna wants to know more. "Was she in pain?"

He shakes his head. "Almost no symptoms. She'd said she wouldn't get any more treatments, and she'd told me... years before... that she had a plan. I never imagined what she actually did. She'd had depression on and off, so the suicide itself wasn't..." He stops and blows out a huge breath. "It wasn't completely a surprise."

Rita cocks her head a little to the side. She still isn't saying anything, and Will can't read her expression. She looks down, and then back up at him. Her hand is still resting on his arm.

"And you found her? I mean. What a shock." It's Arnold.

"She made sure I knew before I found the body... her body." He stops for a moment and sips some more wine. He's quiet while the waiter comes by to refill their water glasses. Rita says 'thank you' to the waiter.

"Okay. There was a note, a big one, on the entry door. She did it while I was out shopping. The note said, in enormous letters," he lifts his hands and spreads them, "'Will, read this before you come inside.' On the back was the full suicide letter, done on our printer, full of apologies and explanations and how much she loved everyone and all that. So. Yeah. I knew as soon as I found the note, before I read the whole thing. And then I went in and found her." When he puts his hands back down, Rita rests her hand on his arm again.

Donna and Arnold look at each other, but Rita watches Will, not staring but looking at him. Will reaches his other hand over and lays it atop Rita's.

"Look, I'm sorry. We're supposed to be having a nice meal and I'm bringing everything down with this maudlin tale. Could we change the topic?"

"Don't be sorry, Will," says Arnold. "It's sad, but it's interesting too. I'm glad you shared it."

Will looks over at Rita and whispers, "I'm sorry."

She picks up his hand and kisses it.

*****

Will wants to announce his lady friend to the world. Rita counters with "How about we meet the kids?"

She warns Will about her daughter, Judith.

"She's never truly forgiven me for the divorce. She was Daddy's girl and I'm kind of the wicked witch."

A short meeting at a public place seems best and they arrange for lunch at a popular coffee shop, one where Will can get something other than pumpkin-spice lattes. Rita likes pumpkin-spice lattes. So they sit, And they sit. And they finally order. And Rita texts Judith asking where she is. And they've basically finished -- Rita her egg-salad sandwich on a croissant roll, with her pumpkin-spice latte; Will his club sandwich on rye with a double espresso -- when a tall, slim woman in office-fashionable attire, who looks a lot like Rita, thirty years ago, arrives and addresses them in a machine gun burst of words.

"I'm sorry I'm late... There were no end of meetings and the traffic was awful... You must be William Hathaway... I'm Judith Fairclough... my!" She finally pauses for a breath. "You don't seem like Mom'stype."

"Judy!"

"Can't your little girl tease?"

"And he's 'Will'."

"And," says Will, wanting to get words in and use a bit of self-deprecation, "my dates' parents often said that about me."

"Oh, so you'redating!That'sespeciallyinteresting. Really Mom? You've changed your standards? Well, sorry, but I can't stay. Busy, busy, busy, and the traffic is terrible. Will, Will you... oh that's interesting... 'Will-Will.' Well, will you write down your contact information so I can get in touch later?" And he does and she says "Ciao" and air-kisses Rita and she's gone.

"Well," manages Will. "That wasn't as painful as I expected. Was she really here?"

Rita looks a bit dejected.

"We need to talk about Judy and Ben and me before we see her again. There's a lot of context."

"Now?"

"No. Later. There are things I don't like to talk about, so let me organize my thoughts. Maybe next week."

*****

It gets a little more real the next day when Judith calls to ask Will over for a personal tete-a-tete, just the two of them over little sandwiches and iced tea, where she can apologize for being so abrupt and rude at the first meeting. She sounds genuine, so he agrees. A time is set for early evening and he texts Rita about it.

*****

Judith lives in one of those McMansions that proliferate in Carmel. Not the knockoff 'McMansions' that proliferate in America. Each house here seems to have its own architect, and many -- like Judith's -- have professional landscaping. They're not at all like Will's place. He and LaDonna had a hard time finding a reasonably contemporary house in Carmel that wassmallenough for them, without all the extra bedrooms and bathrooms and the basement they'd never use. Judith's fits Carmel better, which is not a dig at either the house or Carmel, just a fact. And so does Judith herself. She's fit. She is refined and graceful. But not too much so. She clearly works, clearly has a career, and she would be perfectly in place as a private school principal or a hospital administrator. Will thinks again how much she looks like Rita. Unlike Rita, though, she doesn't like Will, and once he is inside and seated she gets right to it.

"So, Willie," she snarks, "What do you want?"

"I'm sorry?" Her eyes grow small and wicked. Yes, 'wicked' is the right word. Will cocks his head and raises an eyebrow.

"What do you want? What are your intentions? Why are you seeing my mother?"

"I don't understand, Judith. Should I take a test or something?"

Is everyone from Rita's world like this?

He doesn't want to be impolite, but she wants to draw something out. He lays out his whole case.

"I'm seeing Rita because I like her and she seems to like me. I'm not trying to do anything... underhanded. I'm a widower, a retired prof. I'm reasonably comfortably. I have family here. Grandkids. You can find me with a simple Google search."

Might she have had him investigated? She could, easily enough. Why is he being interrogated in a well-designed, beautiful living room in a 5,000 square foot home with landscaping, backing onto a large wood, and both a Tesla and a Lexus in the driveway? How does that fit together? What is she thinking?

"You can find my wife's obituary in theStar. I'm not trying to worm my way into your family. Rita and I like doing things together. That's basically it. What do you want to know?"

"What about your sex with her?"

"Sex?"

Jesus!

"I've found your stories on Literotica, Will... or should I call you 'Dr. Jekyll'? So, what about you and my mom and sex?"

She's had him investigated all right, pretty thoroughly given how short the time has been. How quickly her internet sleuth found him! If they found Literotica, how long before they find other things? What should he say? Anything? What wouldanyonesay?

"That's damned personal, Judith. I don't know you well enough, and I'm not going to talk to you about my sex life. If you want to tell Rita about those stories, I can't stop you. I guess I'll need to tell her about themmyself, now, won't I? If you want to know ifsheis having sex, and if so who with, you'll have to ask her yourself."

Judith cackles.

"I know she isn't having sex with you."

"Okay."

"You're not interested in finding out how I know?"

"Like I said, I won't talk about sex with you. And I think I should leave."

"Oh dear me! And I so thought you'd be interested in finding out she's a lesbian."

*****

Will doesn't know what his expression is, but Judith loves it.

"Yes, she left my dad in order to fuck her girlfriend full time. Does that surprise you? Does it explain your 'sex' life with her?" She makes scare quotes in the air with the word 'sex.' Will still doesn't respond but just sits there, probably looking stupid.

"Or maybe you're her gay guy friend and you've known all along. No, I don't think so. Your stories are hetero. I think you're a wannabe who's destined to be disappointed. Now, what do you think about that?"

Jeez, things must be bad between them for her to be so cruel. Or is she a fucking bitch?It could be both of course.

"I wish you hadn't told me that."

"Oh, I'm just doing you a favor. Now you can walk away and not waste your time."

"I wish you hadn't. I'll have to tell her and find out if it's true."

"Oh, it's true."

"I'll check that out with her. You understand. The stories, well they're another matter. I... well Iamsorry about your parents' divorce. But, God, how much you must hate her."

It's after he leaves Judith's house that Will finds the text from Rita: "Please come here before you go to Judy's, Will. We need to talk first."

That's understandable, so damned understandable. A lot of things are, after the fact. But would it have made any difference if Rita had been able to tell him first? Who can actually know what the road not taken would look like?

*****

It isn't particularly far to Rita's condo, but there is plenty of time to think about what he is going to ask and what he is going to tell.

He replies to Rita's text: "Sorry. I read your text after meeting her. Can I come by now?"

He doesn't want to lay anything else out in a text.

He drives along a lovely boulevard, through some roundabouts, past some of Carmel's public art, past churches and parks and golf courses, and he doesn't notice any of it. Instead, he thinks of what he could -- and should -- have said to Judith. Who can think of just the right words at the time? In his stories he can because there is plenty of time in the writing, time for a hundred indecisions and for a hundred visions and revisions, as the poet would put it. Even then he doesn't get everything right. And on the spur of the moment, looking Judith in the face? Who knows the perfect thing to say?

Could he have told her to fuck off? No, for Rita's sake. That much he knows. Could he have told her she didn't have to worry about seeing him again, because she won't? Maybe. Again, he doesn't know. The only reason to dislike him is that her mother likes him well enough to have him meet the family, though once she found out about his stories she had an after-the-fact motive and ammunition. She wants to wreak some vengeance on her mother by destroying her budding romance. At least that. And maybe she'll succeed.

With all that, Judith doesn't crowd Will's thoughts. That's Rita's job. So, she's a lesbian. Some things make more sense after you find out other things. Will's entire time with Rita reframes itself as he drives.

She would have told me. I didn't have to learn from Judith. But what would she have told me?

Will has had gay friends. Guys have come on to him. A lesbian friend once outed herself to him for some obscure reason and was surprised to find that he already knew. But he's never been with a bisexual woman, not as far as he knows. Not before Rita. Does Rita love him?Do you love me?She seemed to love him. Everything seemed right.Or am I just a rest stop on your journey through life?That sounds corny even to him, but the answer is important.

Let me know, Rita. Please. Love me or set me free. I'll get by somehow.

*****

Rita is waiting at the door when he arrives. The houselights are dimmed but her legs -- those smooth legs -- are in a little patch of moonlight. He can't make out her face at first, and when he can, she looks like she's lost her best friend. They say their hellos, he takes her hand, and they turn completely soundlessly to the living room, where she can hardly ask her questions.

"How was it? What did she say?"

"Is she always so hateful?"

A pause. A long one. They are still standing, facing each other, still holding hands.

"Only about me."

Tell it now. She knows. Don't make her suffer, waiting.

"She thinks I want to weasel into your family for some reason. I don't know why. And she told me you're a lesbian. And, before you say anything, there's something about me that I need to tell you."

Rita staggers back. It's what she'd expected and what she'd hoped against hope wouldn't come out.

He tries to continue. "About me ..." But she breaks in.

"Are we finished?" She breaks in because she can't stand not knowing. "Our relationship?"

"Rita?"

"Is that the thing about you... that you're going to leave me?" They both think she's going to cry.

He takes her other hand. "Oh God no, Rita. I'm not leaving unless you send me away." He wraps her in a hug. "No! No! It's not going to happen."

"You're not revolted? I couldn't tell you at first, and then it seemed too late."

"Because? Because you've been with women? You're my girl. Don't worry. Don't. Never." They're rocking, his arms still around her, hers around him, swaying back and forth, still standing before the couch, and sheiscrying.

Over me, Will thinks.Me. My poor darling.

"Because I kept it from you." She's wiping her eyes and trying to control her breathing.

"No. Again. Please. No. You have a right. You'd tell me in your own time, or maybe not at all."

He lets go of her and takes her face in his hands and kisses her.

"People need their private places. I'm going to have to show you some of mine. Please, Rita. I wish she hadn't told me because you weren't ready and she forced it out. Christ! Your own daughter! If I didn't let you know I knew, it wouldn't be fair to you, and...," he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, "it would destroy us when you learned I'd held it back."

Rita reaches her hands to Will's face and pulls him down to another kiss. Then:

"I want to explain."

"There's no reason to."

"I don't want you to have to wonder. I'm not exactly who... or I guesswhatyou thought I was. I don't want to leave you in the dark. After I tell you, you'll know me better. You might decide I don't deserve you."

"I've already decided."

"No. It wouldn't be right."

"Don't do it."

"I need to."

"What if I ordered you not to tell me?"

"Please. William. This isn't a game. I need to tell you. Really. I do."

He takes her hand.

"Maybe I need to share my secret first."

*****

So, what of the stories? Rita frankly isn't interested. He can send her one or two to read. He thinksyou'll hate me.Or -- there's another possibility,you'll wonder how to tell me the stories aren't any good.

What Rita wants to do is confess.

That Time of Year, Ch. 3: Revealing

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