Double the Love

by Taggart, Molly

  Roger snorted. “Jeb, you didn’t just not tell her everything. You didn’t tell her you snorted cocaine every week for a year and a half. You appreciate the distinction between not telling her that, and, say, not telling her that we snuck into an R rated movie when you were twelve?”

  “Yeah. I appreciate the distinction.”

  “A’right then.” Roger reached for the lever that lowered his recliner. It popped and snapped and fell into its compact shape.

  “You think she’ll forgive me?”

  Roger stood and stretched. “I don’t see why not.”

  Jeb, lost in thought, barely noticed his brother retreating down the hall. When the bedroom door clicked shut, Jeb reached for the phone he had left lying on the coffee table. He opened it up to text messaging and stared at the lengthy, month-old thread of exchanges with Shannon. Her last message had been, Love you too, handsome ;)

  He thought of calling her, but he’d tried that already five times, and she hadn’t answered. He sat with his thumbs poised over the tiny keyboard. Eventually, he typed, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should have.” His index finger hovered over the green send button. Then he hit the delete key repeatedly until it was gone and re-typed his message. He must have repeated this process, typing and then deleting his message, fifteen times. Finally, he typed, “I’m sorry I lied.”

  Jeb pushed his finger fast and hard against the send button before he had a chance to change his mind.

  Chapter Seven

  Becky eased the empty beer bottle out of Jeb’s hand. He was face down on the couch, his left hand clasping the bottle and his legs extended over the arm. His cowboy boots were off and on the floor, one standing askew and the other fallen down on his side. He hadn’t lined them up neatly as he usually did.

  She went to the kitchen and began fixing the coffee. Soon the Anderson house was a bustle with noise and movement as everyone prepared for the school day. Becky was a school librarian, Roger was a history teacher, and Lizzie, of course, was a student.

  Jeb snorted and stirred when Lizzie climbed on his back and stretched out over him, as though he were a giant pillow. She giggled when he did a half push-up, and she rolled to the floor between the couch and the coffee table. “Why are you here, Uncle Jeb?” she asked.

  “Just visitin’,” he said, pulling himself into a sitting position and bending over.

  “Have you heard from Shannon yet?” asked Becky as she entered the room.

  He turned and looked at her where she stood. “She hasn’t returned my calls or my text,” he answered. “I was callin’ purty late. Sent the text ‘bout 3 AM. Maybe she turned her phone off. Maybe she ain’t up yet.”

  Becky sipped her coffee quietly and then ventured, “Now that you’re officially married, have you and Shannon ever thought about marriage counseling?”

  “Counseling?”

  “Roger and I have done it.”

  Jeb glanced down the hallway in the direction Roger had retreated.

  “It helped us a lot, when we needed it.” She shrugged. “Just something to think about. A trained counselor can give you great tools.”

  “Marriage counselin’ didn’t work for me and Sarah. The only tool it gave her was the catapult she needed to permanently launch me out of her life.”

  “But that gave you the chance to finally move on, didn’t it?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. To the next woman with the next catapult.”

  “Shannon’s not building any catapults, Jeb. Shannon’s Shannon. She’s upset. If you’re patient with her…she’ll come around. She’s just never had anyone willing to be patient with her before.”

  *

  This time when Jeb called Shannon, three glasses of water and two aspirin later, there was an answer. He was already in the car headed for home.

  “Cell phone of Shannon Anderson,” came a male voice with a vaguely familiar British accent.

  For a moment, Jeb felt as if his heart had hiccupped into his throat. It was a few seconds before he could manage to breathe.

  “I said, cell phone of Shannon Anderson,” the voice repeated.

  “Who the hell is this?”

  “Ravi.”

  “Ravi?” Jeb asked, feeling the tension that had tightened across his chest start to ease. “Ravi…Shannon’s gay friend from Seattle?”

  “Well, I typically like to define myself by more than where I live and who I fuck, but, yeah.”

  Shannon had shared an apartment with Ravi for three years long before she and Jeb met. Jeb had, at Shannon’s request, included Ravi in the bachelor’s party and the wedding, though he’d never met the man before that. He’d had no opportunity to get to know Ravi at either event.

  “What are you doin’ with her phone?”

  “I was in your, how do you say it – neck of the woods - for a conference. I called up Shannon last night to see if she wanted to meet for a drink, and she told me to come by.”

  “So you’re at the house?”

  “The house, yes. And what a house it is. Love your conservatory.” He must mean the sunroom, where they kept the piano. “Especially love the way you’ve arranged the album covers on the wall.”

  “Is Shannon there?” asked Jeb as he exited the highway. Her preschool class didn’t start until the afternoon on Mondays, so she should still be home.

  “She just stepped in the shower. So you fucked up something awful, huh?”

  Jeb hung up the phone. In ten more minutes, he was at the house. When he came through the front door, he could hear the water from the shower still running upstairs. Ravi was sitting in the arm chair with his dress shoes up on the coffee table. He wore a sharp black business suit with a red silk tie and a bright white dress shirt that contrasted with his brown skin.

  “Good to see you again, Jebediah,” Ravi said as Jeb cut through the foyer, past the living room, to the staircase.

  “No one calls me Jebediah.” He put a foot on the stair.

  “If I were you,” Ravi called from the open living room, “I wouldn’t go interrupt her shower. I’d wait until she was dressed and came downstairs.”

  Jeb took his foot off the stair and came and sat on the couch. Ravi was paging through Jeb’s latest copy of Rolling Stone. The man glanced over the top of the magazine at Jeb and looked him up and down. Jeb shifted on the couch.

  “What?” Ravi asked. “Afraid I’m checking you out?”

  “Well you are, ain’t ya?”

  “Aren’t you secure in your masculinity? Afraid I’m going to get you in a dark corner?”

  “I don’t like bein’ accused of homophobia. Not in my own house, not by a guy who is sittin’ in my chair with his feet on my table readin’ my magazine.”

  Ravi took his feet off the table and tossed the magazine on it. “I was inclined to like you the first time I met you. Shannon talks about you constantly, and until last night, for the past few months, she’s sounded the happiest I’ve ever heard her sound. Furthermore, you’re apparently outstanding in the sack, and I know you have good taste in scotch.”

  “Shannon said that? I mean, about the scotch?”

  “No. I drank some of yours last night.”

  The shower was off upstairs now. There were light sounds of rustling above. Jeb scratched the back of his neck.

  “You’re going to fix this,” Ravi said, easing back into the chair. “Shannon’s a sweet girl with a big heart, and she’s always been a good friend. She’s put up with way too many jerks in her life, and for whatever reason, she is head over heels in love with you. So you’re going to fix this.” Ravi stood up and picked up the brief case he’d left at the side of the chair. “Fix it,” he said, before stepping over Jeb’s legs and walking to the door.

  Chapter Eight

  Shannon was sitting on the bed in her robe, drying her hair, when she saw Jeb walk through the bedroom door. He sat next to her, turned his body slightly sideways, and put a hand flat down on the bedspread, within reach. “Why didn’t you return my
calls?”

  She tried not to look at him. “I told you I’d call you when I was ready to talk,” she said.

  He tented his fingers on the bed. “You’re being cruel.” He tapped the bead spread. “We need to talk now. It don’t work like this Shannon. The drama. We’ve been through this. I can’t tolerate it anymore.”

  “Tolerate it? You can’t tolerate it? Oh, I’m in the wrong here?”

  “Yes. No. I mean…I was in the wrong not to tell you ‘bout the cocaine. I’m sorry you feel…I mean…I’m sorry I lied to you. But you’re cruel to leave me not knowin’ if …” He swallowed. “Look, if you don’t want to talk ‘bout it right now, okay. We’ll talk later. But I need to know. Right now, I need to know—how high are the chances you’re gonna leave me?”

  “What?” The towel she was using to dry her hair fell to the bed. “They’re zero. I’m not going to leave you!” She saw the sigh go out of him like a tide.

  “You haven’t been thinkin’ ‘bout it?”

  “Leaving you? No!”

  “But you said you felt like I rushed you into marriage. Like you wished I wasn’t your husband. Like you—”

  “I never said I wished you weren’t my husband!” she interrupted him. “That’s not what I said. I said I felt like you should have given me more time and information before I said yes.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  The look on his face: he’d believed it, truly believed she was going to leave him. “Oh, God, Jeb, I’m sorry.” She threw her arms around his neck. “I didn’t mean to make you think that.”

  “If you haven’t been thinkin’ ‘bout leavin’ me, then why didn’t you return my calls or texts?”

  “I was mad. I made you leave because I wanted to calm down. So we could have a rational discussion. So that I wouldn’t be dramatic. So I wouldn’t say something I regretted later. I’m trying to be better about that sort of thing. I didn’t do it to create drama. I did it to control the drama.” She was waiting until she could be reasonable. Shannon had worked hard to mature herself this past year, but there were areas where she still struggled to be the person she wanted to be.

  Jeb rested his head against her shoulder and closed his eyes. His ex-wife had calmly announced she was cheating on him one Tuesday evening, without warning, right in front of the television, but Shannon hadn’t been thinking of that. She’d been thinking how weepy and loud and theatrical she would be if he remained in the house before she had settled her emotions.

  Jeb shifted against her neck and sought her lips. She let him kiss her. As he pressed his mouth frantically and possessively against hers, she lay back on the bed, bringing him down with her. She seized his belt and began to unbuckle it.

  This wasn’t the right order. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, make-up sex before they had even made up, a physical reconciliation before they’d talked things through, but she knew he needed this, desperately needed this reassurance, and she needed to give it to him. His hand was under her robe, greedily kneading her breasts, and then sliding downward, leaving a tantalizing trail of heat. She tugged at the button at the top of his pants and slid down his zipper. He stood up long enough to shed his jeans. When he returned to the bed, he claimed her mouth with his own.

  When at last their bodies joined completely, he moaned, “My wife. Mine.”

  “Yes, I’m yours,” she assured him as she wrapped her legs tightly around his, binding his flushed flesh against her own. “I’m yours.”

  *

  Jeb sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to him, but Shannon didn’t sit beside him. She took the arm chair instead. He’d cancelled all his lessons for the day so they could talk.

  “I’m sorry I lied,” he said. “I kept things from you. I was afraid you’d think I might start again. I was afraid you wouldn’t marry me. I should of been honest. I’m sorry.”

  “You understand it’s not the drugs themselves, then? I want us to be open with each other. I want you to trust that you can be honest with me and I won’t run away. And I want to be able to do the same thing with you. Honestly, I’ve never really let myself be…you know…that vulnerable with my boyfriends before, but I want this to be different. I want us to be…”

  “Completely ourselves with each other?”

  “Yeah.”

  He nodded. “Me too.” He slid a hand over the leather of the couch. “A’ight, then be open with me now. All that talk about me rushing you into marriage.” He watched his hand move across the brown, crinkled surface. “If you’re not havin’ second thoughts, then…?”

  Shannon leaned forward and looked down at her feet. “I love you, Jeb. I got a little scared is all. Because it’s a big deal, marriage. And I mean to make it work and stick with it, you know? And I was afraid if you weren’t willing to be open with me, it might not work. Becky is always telling me how important honesty and openness is in a marriage…”

  He looked up from his hand. “Yeah, Roger’s told me that too. It’s like their mantra. Honesty. Openness. Compromise. Communication. Look at how perfect we are.”

  She stopped studying her toes and raised her head to smile hesitantly at him. “Yeah, Becky can be annoying with all the wisdom dispensing. I didn’t realize Roger was that way too.”

  “Different but similar.”

  “But it seems to have worked for them. So…I want to try that. Being honest and open. And communicating.”

  “You can trust me.” He was looking into her eyes now. “With anythin’. And I’ll be open with you.”

  “Is there anything else you haven’t told me?” she asked. “Anything else that I should know? I’m not going to leave you over anything…I mean, unless, you know…you’re evil or something.”

  “Well, I once killed a man in Reno just to watch him die. Then I wrote a song ‘bout it.”

  She laughed. “I don’t think you wrote that one. And I’m serious. Is there anything else?”

  “Like what? I don’t even know what I need to tell you…I mean…I’ve lived some years. I don’t even know what you feel you need to know. Ask me. I’ll be honest.”

  “Okay. Well….have you ever been in jail?”

  He sighed. “First time I went to Nashville, I was arrested for underage drinkin’ and drunk drivin’. I didn’t hurt anyone. I was released on my own recognizance and I ended up doin’ community service and payin’ a fine. Got my license suspended for a while. I didn’t serve time. And I have never again driven drunk, or high, or under the influence of anythin’. Ever. Not since. I swear.”

  “Did you do any other drugs, besides the pot and the cocaine?”

  “I tried acid once. I didn’t like it. That’s it.”

  She drew her legs up again but this time sat cross-legged in the chair. “Do you have any children I don’t know about?”

  “No. Unless I have some I don’t know ‘bout, but that’s unlikely, since I’ve always been careful ‘bout birth control, and I haven’t been with anyone but you for the past eighteen months.”

  “But we’ve only been together for - ”

  “ - I was celibate for a few months before we started datin’. After I went on that post-separation sexual bender, I thought I should…wait ‘till…” He laughed. “’Til you I guess.”

  She smiled. “Okay. Well, that’s all I can think to ask.”

  Jeb leaned forward and picked up the cowboy hat he’d set down on the coffee table when he’d been talking to Ravi earlier that morning. He punched down the top of his hat and then popped it back up. “Are we okay, darlin’?” he asked. “Are you and I okay?”

  “We’re okay. You understand why I was upset about you not telling me about the cocaine, though?”

  He slid the hat on his head. “I do understand. I just wish you wouldn’t of…please don’t do that again. Kick me out and not return my calls. I can’t take that, Shannon. I was like to go crazy.”

  “I’m sorry.” She stood and came to sit beside him.

  Jeb put
an arm around her. “Anythin’ I need to know about you I haven’t thought to ask?”

  “I don’t think so. I’m pretty much an open book,” she insisted, but then her face twisted up and she cast her eyes down.

  “What?”

  She brought her hands together, picked under a fingernail, looked down at the hands in her lap. “I was raped once,” she whispered.

  His arm tensed around her. His voice was hoarse when he asked, “What?”

  “I was twenty-one. I was at a party someone was having in my apartment complex. I was drunk, and this guy offered to walk me back to my apartment, and maybe I was flirting with him a little, but I wasn’t planning to invite him in…and I said no…but he came in anyway…and I said no again…but he…and I was too drunk to really put up a good fight…” Jeb’s muscles felt suddenly very stiff against her. She bit her lip. “Does that bother you?” she asked.

  “Bother me? That you were raped? Does it bother me?”

  “I mean, does it make you feel differently about me?”

  “No. It makes me angry.”

  “You’re the only person I’ve ever told.”

  He looked down at her. “You told the police, surely.”

  “No. What would be the point? It was his word against mine, and he’d bring up that I was drunk and flirty, and it’s not like I’d been pure as the driven snow before that, and I knew everything I ever did would just be dragged up in court, and I’d have to testify and see him again, and I’d have all that stuff thrown in my face, and then he’d probably just get away with it anyway.”

  “Didn’t you tell Becky?”

  She shook her head. “I…I couldn’t. We lived three hundred miles apart at the time and I thought about it but…I couldn’t. Before it happened, she’d already told me half a dozen times that I needed to be less casual about sex, and I was afraid if - ”

  “- She wouldn’t of judged you, Shannon. No way. She’d of supported you and talked you through - ”

  “- Anyway I just couldn’t. I just couldn’t tell her. Not then. We were sort of fighting back then too. Nothing like you and Roger, but we weren’t talking all that often. Later, I just shoved it down. I didn’t want to even think about it let alone talk about it.”