“Yeah, I get it.” Honestly, until that moment, it hadn’t really sunk in. And although it never bothered me, I became very aware that I was not in a traditional family, and through high school, there were some kids who wouldn’t let it be. But, like I said, no more bullies. By the time Jessie graduated, I could handle myself, and before that — no one messed with Jessie. Not just because of who she was, but also because of who and what her father was — a big, badass, don’t-fuck-with-me cop.
But, as I matured, so did Jessie — into a beautiful, desirable woman. And by the time I graduated high school, a serious infatuation was turning into love for my older sister. At 18, I had already dated and had a couple of girlfriends, but none of them compared to my Jessie.
Which is where this story really begins.
After high school, I attended the same university as Jessie, who was a junior by that time. And though we stayed close, our different schedules, different studies and different circles of friends meant we saw less and less of each other. But I was still hopelessly in love with her; not only because she had always been devoted to my welfare, or that she was incredibly kind and sweet, or because she was incredibly intelligent, but for all those things — and she was the most beautiful, desirable woman in my young life.
Alas, after graduation, she eventually married a classmate, Derrick; and my fantasies about riding off into the sunset with her in my arms, were dashed.
However, Derrick seemed a decent guy, and Jessie obviously loved him, so I was happy for her. But as happy as I was for her, I felt I had lost my best friend; and hadn’t felt more alone since those first weeks after my mother’s death, before I became a part of my new family.
But I eventually met and married a beautiful woman, the daughter of my favorite professor. Elise was almost as stunning and brilliant as Jessica, almost; and she did capture my heart. Upon graduation, we each pursued Masters degrees in our respective fields, and each found ourselves in very successful endeavors.
Life gives you second chances.
The first three or four years of our marriage were idyllic — in every way: We liked the same foods, the same movies; had similar senses of humor, similar political leanings; and were well-matched in the bedroom — she was a passionate and tireless lover.
But things began to change when I started traveling in my new position at an international trading company. It was a temporary situation, but necessary for promotion — you have to do your time in the barrel before you get to climb the ladder. By the end of the first year of traveling, I could tell something had changed, but I didn’t know what. Elise very gradually became less affectionate, more easily upset by our disagreements, more involved in her own pursuits, and more distant.
By the time I handed landed a position that required less travel, Elise’s profession, an author of children’s books, began requiring her to travel — book signings, conventions and such. By our sixth year, we were in trouble, but the naïve fool I was, I still didn’t have a clue as to what was really wrong.
One night after we made love, I woke up around 3 a.m. to use the restroom, and Elise was not in bed. A cursory search didn’t turn her up, then a frantic search revealed her car missing along with a sizeable amount of clothing from her closet. I finally found a note on the kitchen counter with three short sentences:
Don’t look for me or try to come after me.
I am in love with someone else.
My lawyer will contact you.
She didn’t even sign it, but it was her handwriting.
Those were the darkest days of my life since losing my mother, and I still haven’t recovered. At least she didn’t take me for everything, and I got to keep our house after buying out her interest. We had what they call an amicable divorce — albeit, one-sided. Though I now resented her for how she left me, and was pretty close to hating her for the cheating and deception for over two years, I still loved her.
I am now 32, 6′-3″ and a fit 220, and according to the women I’ve known, including my ex, I’m a dead-handsome guy. My parents were both good-looking. I inherited my father’s physique and my mother’s blond hair and blue eyes. I am very financially secure and have a solid, six-figure income.
So, I’m a handsome, wealthy bachelor with no women in my life, and no prospects on the horizon. Since Elise left me, I’ve been with a few women, but haven’t managed a single, real relationship. Between my generally glum attitude, fear of being hurt, and a dearth of quality women that could compare to Elise or Jessica, I am still very much unattached and mostly unmotivated to do anything about it.
I’ve buried myself in my work, which has had its financial benefits, but little else. My social life consists of Sunday afternoons at my parents for dinner, and during the season, watching football on tv with them. Like my dad was, Eli and Emma are big fans, and spending those Sundays with them provides the second biggest highlight of my current existence.
The first: Jessie and I meet about once a month in Colorado Springs (Eli and Emma’s hometown). I live a few miles to the west in the mountain city of Manitou Springs. Jessie and Derrick live in Aurora, outside Denver. She makes the drive down to visit me because Colorado Springs is home base, and there is more to do here than in Aurora. And, frequently, she will spend Sunday at our parents’. Besides, I have a damn nice home. When she visits me, we always start with lunch at our favorite Mexican restaurant, then visit the zoo, the amphitheater, one of the beautiful parks or other attractions around Colorado Springs for a pleasant afternoon of visiting. We always finish with dinner at one of several good restaurants, then she heads home, and on occasion, especially when she is going to visit our parents the next day, she stays over at my house.
Yeah, I know what you’re thinking — but no. She’s married. I respect that. And besides, I believe she still thinks of me as her little brother — even though I’m now four inches taller than her 5′-11″ and outweigh her by about 90 pounds.
When I was still married, Jessie and Derrick would sometimes stay over with Elise and me at our home. After Elise left, it was mostly Jessie coming down by herself when Derrick was out of town.
It was actually Derrick that suggested Jessie come for the ‘morale’ visits by herself when he was traveling. Derrick and I get along fine, but we’re very different people, and never really got that close. I was more than happy to have Jessie to myself for an afternoon. Derrick travels a lot in his job, and we only get together when he is gone; then I’m not infringing on their time as a couple.
This Saturday, we met in the restaurant as always. I was first to arrive and garnered a table that had a view of the entrance. When the door opened and the backlit silhouette of a tall, slender but shapely woman filled the rectangle of light, I immediately recognized the long, graceful outline of Jessie and rose to greet her. Seeing me, she closed the distance between us in a few long strides and embraced me for our usual greeting hug. But this wasn’t usual. She grasped me so firmly, I was caught off guard. Then her body shuddered as she let out a sob.