Another Time, Another Place

“Heart attack serious,” she replied as if the words were spoken for her. “I’ll maintain my fitness from this point. More importantly, I’m rededicated to my marriage and for the first time in years, I get it. I get how to cherish these things and have a great sex life despite inadequate challenges. I get that the time I’ve been fooling around with you, I could have devoted to discovering ways to make intimacy with my husband more pleasurable for me. How would you feel if you could no longer make a woman climax with your dick?”

The trainer pulled down the biker shorts to mid-thigh and let his “Johnson” hang freely for her to see.

Damn, April said to herself. Even soft, he is larger than Virgil’s erection.

The trainer caught the mild excitement in her eyes and felt that she was trying to be strong. He held his manhood at the base, slapped it against his leg until it started to rise.

“When I can’t get it up like this, I’ll take Viagra,” he boasted. “By the time I need help, it will probably be available in an aerosol can. You see,” he said, directing her eyes down to the thicker, longer erection, “size does matter.”

“You’re right. I totally agree. The size of your big-ass attitude and inflated ego sickens my stomach. You can kindly leave. I’ll send you a check for the week. I’m through with you.”

April had the front door opened and an arm pointing to his exit. Her serious, distant expression silenced his words. He put his tool away, picked up the workout bag, hung the strap on his shoulder and walked out the door shaking his head. April closed and locked the door behind him. Her sense of being liberated was now far grander than moments ago when she responded to the trainer’s question. She was proud that the feeling was her own and not a sensed notion.

SEVENTEEN

In three days’ time, Ariel had secured a ninth-floor, moderately priced condo a few blocks from her job. She was sitting on the living room’s hardwood floor waiting for all new furniture and a window decorator to arrive.

“Hello,” she said after she answered her cell phone.

“That was a funny trick you played on me,” the caller spoke.

“Steven, you’re alive. How is the ole stomach?” Ariel asked.

“You’re still the comedienne. You have no idea of the anxiety I had thinking you’d actually poisoned me. To top it off, when I went to check my email, the DSL line was down. I almost dialed nine-one-one. All I thought about until the line came up was to drink plenty of water…which, by the way, had me pissing all night long. When I read your email that said, ‘Fool, I’m not crazy, nothing is wrong with you,’ I could have killed you from the scare alone.”

“As I recall it, killing me was pretty much your plan the last time I saw you.”

“I wouldn’t harm you like that,” Steven responded.

Ariel removed the cell phone from her ear, gazed at it strangely and closed the device to end the call. She had counted to seven when the cell phone rang again.

“Steven,” Ariel said. “What do you want?”

“You’re right,” Steven confessed. “My anger had gotten the best of me. However, since that time, I’ve taken a moment to reflect on what you must feel. I have been abusive mentally and physically to you. I truly apologize,” Steven relayed somberly. “It hadn’t been an everyday thing, but I’d imagine enough to turn your heart away from me.”

“That’s a wonderful summation,” Ariel replied.

“Let me make it up to you. Come home,” Steven pleaded.

The loud laughter Ariel bellowed carried on for a long moment, long enough for Steven to interrupt the solo laugh.

“Okay, I understand. Not a chance in hell, right,” Steven spoke.

“Precisely.”

“I do want to make it up to you,” Steven repeated again.

During the small moment of silence, Ariel bit down on her lip to prevent herself from laughing again. Steven sensed Ariel’s need to quantify his statement.

“I’m selling the house, and half of the profit will be sent to you. I can’t see myself living in this big-ass house alone.”

Note to self, Ariel thought. Cancel divorce attorney meeting tomorrow.

“And another positive note,” Steven continued. “I’ve scheduled a counseling session to talk about my anger issues.”

“That’s a big step. I’m proud you’re addressing them.”

“Well, if I’m to have a new life, I’d better fix what’s wrong with me. So, how have you been?” Steven asked.