The Vacation Wife by David Stone (best selling autobiographies TXT) 📕

Susan. She wiped her cheek with the knuckle of the thumb holding her drink. “I just missed you guys.”

“I’ve missed you, too, babe,” said Marci brightly. Even though we’d just seen Susan the night before, I knew what she meant. It wasn’t the same dynamic when she was with Greg. Marci sat on the other side of Susan and rubbed her knee. “We both have.”

I gave Susan a one-armed hug. “Why don’t you tell us everything that’s on your mind.”

She stared into space for a moment before getting up to blow her nose. Once finished, she turned, considered what she was about to say, then sat in the occasional chair facing us.

“I don’t want Marci to be your vacation wife anymore.”

Arrows pierced my spleen, and I sensed a panic enveloping Marci. She looked at me with tears beginning to well in her eyes. I shook my head, attempting to telegraph she should remain calm. I knew Susan had more to say.

“I want Marci to be our wife, Ryan. I want us both to be your wife. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s how I feel. I love Marci just as much as I love you.”

Marci cried in earnest, her chin shaking as her lips turned liquid. She began to shiver as if an arctic breeze had blown in from the balcony. I put an arm around her. Susan came over and hugged us both, then kissed Marci firmly on her lips. Marci rose from the bed and they embraced properly, both of them succumbing to tears and sobs.

“I love you too, Susan,” said Marci. “I love you so much!”

“I love you so much too! God, I do. I always have.”

Susan tapped my shoulder, indicating I should rise.

“Let’s give our husband a hug too.”

Marci smiled, tears still streaming her cheeks. After sorting out whose arm would go where the three of us hugged.

Though I felt degrees of happiness which were utterly foreign to me, I couldn’t muster the emotion to reflect it. I was in shock. The idea these two women wanted to share me as their husband was beyond my reach.

After several moments, they composed themselves while using up a full box of Kleenex. Susan emptied her drink and handed me her glass, a wordless communication suggesting a refill was in order. I retrieved the wine from the balcony, poured a glass for Marci, then made two fresh drinks for Susan and myself.

They returned to the bed and were gently showing their affections. I took a chair. A new atmosphere filled the room, and I knew it would take us time to adjust to it. In one fell swoop, all of our lives had changed. We now occupied a space to which none of us could lay claim. We had to figure out a way to fill it together, but how?

In short order, the tears and sobs became giggles and Marci quickly regained form.

“Jesus, Susan, we’ve got to work on your delivery. You scared me shitless there.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how else to say it.”

“You could have just skipped the ‘I don’t want Marci to be your vacation wife’ part.”

“I see it now. Again, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said. “You had to get there somehow.”

“Does this make you happy, Ryan?” asked Susan.

“I’m sure it will when I get it sorted it out in my mind. I’m not there yet.”

“It’s simple, really,’ said Susan. “I already sorted everything out.”

“That was quick,” said Marci. “I’m still climbing back from your opening.” She laughed.

“We’re going to live together, of course. I think we should get one of those really king-sized beds and, well, we can remodel upstairs so Marci and I can have really big closets. We don’t really need that spare room, do we? And we can fix up the guest room so it’s much nicer and one of us can use it, you know if one of us is sick or just needs some space. Don’t you think that could work?”

“Jesus, Susan,” said Marci. “You want me to give up my crappy condo? Let me think about it.” She gave it thirty seconds. “When can I move in?”

Susan gave her a hug. “This is going to be fun. Don’t you think so, Ryan? You have to tell us what you think.”

As I wasn’t sure what I thought about anything at that moment I wasn’t sure what to say. All I did know was that I wanted these two women to be in my life. Most men would have felt they were being handed the brass ring to happiness. I guessed I was afraid to believe what I was hearing, my natural caution keeping my joy at bay.

“I love hearing you two talk about this. We can do anything you two like to the house. Legally there’s not a lot we can do. The last I checked bigamy was illegal.”

“I’ve thought about that too,” said Susan. “Maybe you could divorce me and marry Marci, and then after a year, we’d switch back, and that way one of us would always be legally married to you.”

“That’s a bit out there,” said Marci.

“The law isn’t that elastic,” I said. “I mean, you have to wait a certain period after you file for divorce—it’s not a question of signing some papers and you’re divorced and remarried the same day. Plus, as Marci said. It’s a bit ‘out there’ as ideas go.”

“Well, we can think about it. Maybe every five years we switch it up, and then all go on a honeymoon together.”

“In any case, I don’t think we can get it settled here tonight.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“We could be married,” said Marci to Susan.

Susan’s eyes widened. “Gosh, you’re right. I didn’t think of that.”

Marci was correct. Susan could divorce me and marry Marci. What would that make me? A legal ex-husband and civil ex-boyfriend. I would be double-X’d. That didn’t sit exactly square in my head, but I couldn’t deny it as a possibility.

“I think I need another drink,” I said. “Susan? Marci?”

“Hey!”