Episode 5: Parental Confrontation

Mornings were Johnny Steely’s new favorite time of day now that he was retired from the bar. Much like his son, Jack, did now Johnny had kept late hours tending bar, managing the kitchen and shooting pool with the regulars. And he’d loved every second of it. Mostly because it meant he got to snuggle in with his wife in the mornings instead of rushing off to some office job.

He’d decided to turn the bar over to his kids two years ago.  Retirement had seemed like a golden ray of sunshine at the time. The late nights at his age were getting to be too much and he’d wanted more from his marriage than mornings. He’d wanted to snuggle in front of the television with her in the evenings, go to bed with her at night, spend time with her during the day. Mostly he’d wanted more time to work on everything that had been going wrong between them in the past several years.

But Vicky hadn’t wanted any part of it. She liked attending her meetings and functions on her own. And she liked having the house to herself at night. He was only in the way.

He hadn’t meant to cheat. Or at least, he clarified to himself, he hadn’t gone looking to cheat. He loved his wife. He adored his children. He had merely been too weak to resist the sort of attention the much younger Alexa had lavished on him. A foolish move, for certain. Even more foolish, he’d left his wife to be with Alexa half thinking he deserved someone who actually wanted him around and half hoping Vicky would fight for him.

But she hadn’t. And he couldn’t blame her. She hadn’t deserved his infidelity. Looking back, he realized he shouldn’t have taken her seeming indifference to heart. He’d changed the rules in their relationship and in turn had depended on her too much for his happiness. He’d never considered that she might have had her own ideas of how to spend her time. He’d only expected she should want to be with him more.

Now, standing on the front porch of the house they had shared for thirty years, he squinted in the glaring morning sun and contemplated his next move. So far coming back and asking for a second chance had only sent her running. Staying had only kept her away. Leaving wouldn’t accomplish anything.

Turning at the sound of tires on gravel, Johnny squinted at the silver sedan pulling up in the drive. His heart leapt in his chest at the sight of her and he had to swallow back a victorious whoop.

Her long shapely legs swung out of the car and his chest tightened in anticipation as she appeared.

Slamming the car door, she crossed her arms in front of her and glared at him.  “Don’t throw a welcome home party yet. I’m only here to tell you to get the hell out of my house.”

Johnny knew a challenge when he heard one, he inwardly grinned.

***

It wasn’t right that he should still look so damn good. Vicky narrowed her eyes at her former husband…well, technically not former. Not yet. Estranged, she amended.

She could not let that man get to her or wear her down. He was completely clueless of how thoroughly he had destroyed her when he’d left her for that little bimbo. And she wanted him to stay that way. The more fully he believed Vicky to be over him, the better.

Brushing her bottle brown hair over her shoulder, she sailed past him on the front porch and bristled when he touched her arm. Pausing, she glared from his hand on her arm to his face.

“You’re ruining my blouse with your stench,” she informed him coolly and deliberately pulled herself from his grasp.

The warmth from his touch lingered, though and Vicky tamped down the shiver that threatened to skitter down her spine. No way. He would not affect her that way. Not anymore.

“You look good, Vic,” he smiled. He seemed to have missed the part about her loathing him. Smug SOB.

“You look like shit,” she lied and pushed the door to their house open and stepped inside. He followed suit and she slammed the door in his face. Never mind that he was a mere two steps behind her and took the door to his nose.

“Dammit Vic,” he groaned, rubbing at his nose.

“Pity,” she said after a brief inspection. “I was hoping I’d broken it.”

Johnny’s hands dropped from his face and he stood staring after her as she continued on into the kitchen. She noted that he hadn’t bothered to load the dishwasher, much less run the damn thing. Her kitchen was a mess.

“You’re cleaning this up,” she informed him.

Wrinkling her nose at the scent of the strong coffee he’d brewed, she promptly pulled the carafe from the burner and poured the tar like liquid down the drain.

“Hey,” he called, darting across the kitchen as though to stop her. “I just made that.”

“And now you can save your poor kidney’s the bother. I assume you remember how I like the dishes loaded?” she motioned toward the dishwasher and went about the task of rinsing the coffee carafe.

“Are you never going to just hear me out, Vic?” he asked, his voice soft. He was doing that whole quiet cajoling thing that he did when he was trying to get his way. Well it wasn’t going to work on her. Not anymore.

“No.”

“Vic—“

“No, Johnny. You can’t possibly have any excuse, logic or reason for screwing around on me that would change a damn thing. So no. I’m never going to hear you out.” Calmly filling the carafe with water, Vicky went through the motions of brewing a fresh pot of coffee. She needed the caffeine, minus the tar. Glancing over her shoulder at him, she ordered herself not to actually look at him. “Do us both a favor, why don’t you? Go. Away,” she emphasized.

“No. Just…” he nudged her out of the way with his hip and started loading dishes into the dishwasher. “I’m not leaving. This is my house, too.”

Trying not to think about how closely he was standing, Vicky’s hands trembled while she pulled a clean mug from the cabinet. “It won’t be your house for long. Once the divorce is final, it’ll be mine.”

“There isn’t going to be a divorce. Not anymore,” he calmly informed her.

This can’t be happening, she thought. Not after what he did. He couldn’t just go changing the rules again.

“Need I remind you that you’re the one who left me? You found greener pastures. So go back to them and let me get on with my life.”

He slammed the dishwasher  shut and turned to lean his back against the counter, his arms folded across his still—damn him—impressive chest.

Damned hell wasn’t fair that he still looked good enough to eat. Time and distance and age hadn’t diminished him at all. He still looked like a tanned, muscle-y god. If anything, the grey at his temples and the laugh lines around his eyes and lips only made him look better.

While she…no, she decided. I’m not going down the list of personal shortcomings that age and giving birth to three children had done to her.

“I miss you, Vic,” he murmured, his cat green eyes practically oozed sadness and maybe even, dare she think it? Loneliness?

But how could he be lonely while he’d been shacked up with a booby blond?

“That is not my problem. I never left.”

“Yes,” he contradicted, his murmur gaining strength. “You left long before I did, Vic. I did everything I could to—“

“We’re not detailing my so-called failures,” she interrupted. “I had my own life, yes, but it’s one I developed over years. And then without any discussion you just decided for me that the status quo wasn’t good enough. You never—“ she stopped and slammed the empty mug on the counter top.

“Vic—“

“No. I’m not doing this again, Johnny. This is old crap and there’s nothing gained by continuing to argue the point. Besides, you fixed all that when you starting banging that little tart. Which only serves to prove that I didn’t wreck our marriage, Johnny. You did. And I have no interest in patching it back together.”

“Never mind the thirty years we have invested in each other?”

She snorted at his audacity. “Oh, and I suppose you were really concerned about our thirty year investment with each thrust into that tramp?” Her laughter was bitter to her own ears and she swallowed, knowing that the tears would soon follow. And crying in front of him was not going to happen.

Screw Jenna for forcing her to face this…this…this beast again.

Rubbing her hands down the thighs of her slacks, Vicky pushed past him again and headed for the door.

“I want you out of my house and out of my life, Johnny,” she practically yelled over her shoulder. “Today.”

God help her, she didn’t know what else to do but run.