Chapter 12:

Extenuating Circumstances

Knowing that he could not possibly go home in his current state, and that it was even better that he should be stuck at the Fifth Season, William joined Valerie in the consumption of small shot bottles and a discussion of regrets. A sharp knock on the door brought the two out of their confidence, and reminded them that Valerie had ordered room service. Ah, sandwiches!

William jumped off the bed, half wanting to show that he felt much better, thank you, and half because he was excited at the prospect of food. On his feet, William had to use the wall to prop himself up. He eventually made it to the door, pulled it open, then used it to keep himself on his feet.

Room service seemed bored as he told William what he had. William took the sandwiches and the bottle of Motrin, thanking the kind young man for his efforts with a greasy banknote. He stepped back into the room and very carefully slid the chain back into place as he balanced the platter in his other hand. William had spent three years as a waiter while working his way through college, so, drunk or not, he felt he could balance this tray all night. The sandwiches looked good—really good—as he set them smack in the middle of the bed.

Valerie smiled at him. There was a tremor at the corner of her smile.

“What’s wrong?” William asked, fearing he already knew.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” Valerie asked, as she turned her attention to the sandwich with carrots on it.

William smiled, wide eyed, “I should hope I know you better than that.”

“What’s the trouble?” Valerie’s said with a defeated smile. “This. What we do,” she answered as she picked at a piece of ham. “Science is supposed to save us—but it doesn’t. We only find new ways to hurt ourselves. Each time we solve a problem, a bigger, more complex problem presents itself.”

“Examples?” William asked.

“We develop drugs and antibiotics to overcome sickness—but now there are resistant strains of TB, influenza, staph... We discover radiation and build weapons, but refuse to use it for energy, because that might be dangerous. How does that make any sense? We use fuels and chemicals and industry to create a more comfortable world—only to cower from the creeping pollution that’s destroying our air, water, and earth. We search the seas and the skies to understand our universe, only to find rocks of death raining down upon us! It’s ridiculous! Science is supposed to save us, to free us from our small-minded and selfish worries, to make the world better. But it doesn’t! We’re just killing ourselves with greater efficiency, in more sophisticated ways!”

She didn’t cry although her eyes were welling up. Ranting seemed to be enough. Instead, she took William’s hand and held it to her face, which was flushed and warm to the touch.

William wasn’t used to seeing her out of control. He was worried by this development. Instinctively, he knew how to make things better. He reached around, pulled Valerie’s face close to his, and kissed her, lips to lips—and yet it was a chaste kiss, a kiss of understanding and sympathy, an attempt to let her know she mattered greatly in his life. It was the type of kiss he’d give to his daughter when she skinned a knee, or caught half a dozen splinters of an old piece of fence.

William eased back, having offered nothing more than a peck—but Valerie followed him. Physical touch was just what she wanted. It was just what she needed. She moved forward. He felt her grip on his hand tighten. Then he felt her lips part as they pressed against his. It felt good to have her tongue in his mouth.

In his mind, a picture came to view. It had nothing to do with this place or time. It was an image of Emily’s blonde curls and bright features, her easy eyes smiling at him in an expression of mirth. William opened his eyes and pulled back from Valerie. Off balance and frantic, he crashed to the floor, banging his head with an audible crack as the remainder of his sandwich flew across the room.

Valerie gasped. “Oh my god! Are you all right?” she asked, as she tired to help him up.

William veered from Valerie and the bed at all costs. “Yeah,” he said as he slid into a chair.

“I’m so sorry, William,” Valerie began.

He didn’t bother to respond.

“William?!” she said as she stood.

He didn’t move at all.

“Oh Jesus, William! Don’t be dead!” She huffed.

William sat up and held up a hand, to keep her at a distance. “I don’t think we should…”

“Oh! No, no, no!” she agreed. “I just… I’m so sorry!” She sputtered and stopped.

It was obvious to William that Valerie didn’t know how to continue either, not verbally. But she was sitting away, and so he relaxed, knowing that she understood, even if she didn’t know how to put it in words.

William closed his eyes against the pain in his head, in his heart. He lay back in the chair, wondering just what to do now. He wanted Valerie to be happy and strong as she always was. He wanted to be with his wife. He wanted to sleep. Mostly, he wanted to sleep.

William decided he’d sort it all out in the morning. He’d go home to his wife, knowing there’s only so much one man can do. He’d start there. He started to drift off.

Valerie shook William. He opened his eyes to see her stooped right in front of him. “You can’t sleep,” she told him. “What if I just gave you a concussion?” She asked with her hand on his shoulder, her face next to his. He hadn’t thought of that—and now that he had, he didn’t care. He closed his eyes again...

…and once more warm lips were pressed against his. She crawled onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. It was a large chair, and they were not big people. William felt the heat, comfort and pleasure of a feminine touch. He found himself kissing her back as he continued to think of Emily. After all, this was Emily. He wrapped his arms about her and any other thoughts slipped away.

Her hair and eyes were different as she pulled him onto the bed. Her scent was strange, yet warm and inviting, and although he could tell something was wrong, he refused to think about it. Emily needed him. She needed his comforting touch. He stared into the grey eyes he knew and loved so much. He allowed her to pull him back to the bed, never allowing her lips to part from his own for more than a few seconds.

Valerie ran her fingers through his hair, pulling at the short strands as William’s hands slid under the straps of Emily’s dress. He brushed the cloth aside. She was thinner than he remembered, more gaunt. When did she dye her hair?

“Valerie,” he said, coming out of his fog. He pulled away, and would have toppled over the edge once more, had Valerie not grabbed him. But she was light and her center of gravity too high. He accidentally threw her off the bed.

Valerie squealed as she flew. William held on to her and kept her from smashing her ribs into the hard edge of a table. They came to rest in a heap on the floor with half the bedding in hand.

William frowned; sure he had hurt her as she grimaced. He started to speak, to apologize, to pull away—but she kissed him and pushed him down. William lost his shirt and shoes. No longer in her dress, Emily tugged at his belt. William could feel tears rolling down his face. He didn’t understand why he was crying, he only knew that she was. There was no sobbing on his behalf, only blurred vision. He felt unsure, tense and unnerved, and knew somehow this was all wrong! He needed to stop! He needed to think!

But everything in the world was wrong! Everything was bad and blurred, compromised and broken! Why should this be any different?! Wasn’t this fantastic—to make love to this woman that he’d loved for so long? Admittedly, it had not been an amorous love with his wonderful coworker, but now that it was—well—was it not comforting to Valerie?

For the first time tonight, William needed no reassurance of some unknown future. In fact, he was hoping it might all come crashing down around his ears. Let the whole world collapse—for he would die happy—and to hell with Italy!

*****

William didn’t remember falling asleep. Honestly, he didn’t remember much of anything—including how he came to be wedged between a strange bed and a strange wall. He also had no recollection of how he’d managed to get himself such an amazing headache.

In another room, a faucet was running, and someone retched.

William tried to block out the sounds, intent on dying. Dying would stop this pain, he mused.

A foot nudged him and he opened his eyes to see Valerie standing over him in all her naked glory, a tall glass of water in one hand, and pills in the other. Her body was strong and thin, her soul worn and frayed.

William remembered the feel of her pressed against him, the warmth of her skin. Bile built in his throat. The reek of alcohol permeated everything, and above all, he remembered what had transpired the night before. Shock jolted him awake. Where was Emily?! But he knew as soon as he asked the question that she was not here. She was never here. She’d been cut out of the conversation.

William remembered the mix of lush pleasure, of foreboding danger, of woe and commiseration as he and Valerie—oh Gawd! He closed his eyes against panic and immense pain, trying to breathe, and calm his churning stomach all at once.

“Here,” Valerie said, handing him the tall glass of water and half a dozen Motrin.

He turned to her with his head refusing to forgive him for so much drink. “Thank you,” he said, not wanting to take anything out on her. He took the pills and swallowed them in one gulp. The water was cool and eased his sore dry throat. Thankful, he handed the empty glass back to Valerie. His stomach gurgled and burbled as he stretched out on the floor. If he was calm and refused to move too much, it was likely to settle. He closed his eyes. Now all he had to do was lie back and let the universe decide if he would live or die. He pulled a pillow over his head, and prayed for oblivion.

Valerie tossed the glass on the bed and slowly, ever so gently, stretched out on top of him. She tucked her head close to his, no longer smelling of alcohol, but the overpowering aroma of mint toothpaste, with a hint of sick beneath it.

*****

William woke with a jump. He was edgy and nervous and unsure of what had pulled him out of his sleep—but he knew that whatever it was, it was BAD! He looked about, still between the bed and the wall of the hotel room, bad dreams slowly evaporating from memory, as a growing sense of foreboding knotted his still troubled stomach. He’d dreamed. He’d dreamed he’d cheated on his wife. He’d dreamed it wasn’t a dream.

The room was airy, with more space than anything, and for the first time, William realized this was quite a luxurious suite. The lights were off but the room was bright with streaks of sun pouring through the windows, between the slits of the shades. Outside, he could see a balcony. The sun was really bright. He wanted to blame it for his headache, but he was pretty sure that he had caused this all on his own, and that the bright pricks of sunlight were only pointing at his degeneracy.

William wanted to lie back down, to sink back into oblivion, but reason and fear told him he must wake. There was danger afoot, and he had to find it! Valerie was nowhere in sight. All at once, William was thankful and disappointed. What would he say to her? What could he say to her?

The phone rang again.

“I’ll get it,” said Valerie as she once again appeared from out of the bathroom and smiled at William as she passed. She picked up the bakelite handle of the room phone. “Hello?” she paused and gave William a curious stare. “Who’s this?” she asked. There was another pause and then surprise. “Emily! Oh my god! How are you?!”

William couldn’t believe his ears! She must know! How could she possibly know?!

“No this is William’s room. I came over for breakfast,” she claimed as she stared wide-eyed at her coworker.

Another long pause.

“He’s in the lavatory. I’m sorry we kept him last night. There were… extenuating circumstances,” she said, and cringed.

Pause again.

“No, no. Everything’s all right,” Valerie said as she and William stared in panic at each other. She mouthed something he couldn’t make out.

“No, last night there were, well, complications. Did William tell you anything about last night’s party? “she began to explain. “Did he tell you that we were essentially blackmailed into being there…?”

Another goddamn pause. What was Emily saying?! William wanted to ask for the receiver—yet, didn’t dare.

“I’m sorry, Em,” Valerie stated. “One second and I’ll let William tell you,” she said as she held the receiver out to him, her eyes bugging as she tried to wave him over.

William’s innards seized up. He reached for the phone, hoping the planet would evaporate from beneath his feet, or the city’s power would go out, or Emily would remember she left muffins in the oven. He took the receiver and offered a simple, “Hello?”

“Hey baby, is everything all right?” Emily’s voice was soft and concerned.

“I drank a little much last night, and hit my face on a door,” he suddenly remembered.

“Oh my god. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a lot of bleeding,” William reported.

“Did you get in a fight?” she guessed.

“No, not like that. It was an accident,” It was a whole night of accidents, he wanted to say. And not just accidents; of misjudgments, anxiety, and shelved morals...

Someone knocked on the door. Valerie took a few quick steps and let room service in. William realized he was famished when the fragrance of the food hit him. How long had it been since he’d last eaten? He looked at the bed where half of Valerie’s sandwich sat. He looked across the room at the mess he’d created when he accidentally launched his own sandwich. Room service also noticed the mess—though he pretended not to.

Preoccupied by thoughts of food, William missed Emily’s question. “Baby, I’m gonna eat and then I’ll be right home. I have a lot to tell you,” he stated.

“Okay,” Emily answered, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” William answered. He planned to tell her everything. Damn the gag order! he thought. This is a not a secret I care to keep! Besides, secrets don’t keep friends, and especially not spouses! He hung up the phone, relieved, and yet on the verge of panic. He stared at his hands, which shook vigorously. He thought about Emily and Valerie, about the mess he’d put himself in, and he forgot to breathe. He was certain this would ruin his life. All the neat little pieces he’d puzzled together over decades were about to shatter. He’d lose Emily and Haley for sure. His neat little home would rip asunder in the ensuing break-up…

Oh Haley!

He wanted to see his little girl, to hold her, to beg her forgiveness. She would not know what was happening, would simply offer up a questioning stare, no suspicion in her eyes. He saw her slipping away, her shy smile twisting into a scowl of contempt. She’d be fifteen and resentful the next time he saw her with an accusational look and various piercings all about her face. More than that, she’d hate him, and she’d be justified!

William could feel it all slipping away, and he couldn’t breathe.

“You all right?” Valerie asked, snapping him back from his thoughts.

William blinked and relaxed a bit, “Yeah, just nerves.” He admitted with a weak smile.

“You should eat.”

For a second they stared at each other. Valerie didn’t know how to feel, staring at the guilt in William’s eyes. She felt the same guilt, but she also felt strangely whole. Last night had been a mix of blessing and curse. She’d never been more afraid and alone—and so in love, so intimate, so completely defenseless and utterly protected! Indeed, she was still raw, on the edge of emotion. Should it be love or pain or fear or anything else, she felt it all. Her mind was running at maximum capacity trying to translate it, to record it, and make sense of what was happening. Logic and rationale told her she should not have taken this path. These were the processes she normally relied on, but now she ignored them. She was too consumed with the emotions released by alcohol, the end of the world, and a love that wasn’t meant to happen. She wanted to run. She wanted to take William by the hand and run for it. What “it” was, she wasn’t sure—but she wanted to search it out in the countryside, at high speeds, with nothing but his touch to keep her steady. She told herself that’s all she needed.

William flinched from her and she was reminded of his situation, of Emily and Haley. She knew them both, and had joined the three for numerous dinners. She liked the friendly blonde with her bright eyes and welcoming smile. Only now did she realize how much she envied Emily.

Valerie glanced down and caught a glimpse of William’s hand in hers. She noticed the gold band about his finger, and turned her own hand over, searching for a match. It wasn’t there, of course. She dropped his hand. She had no claim to it. There was nothing binding them, besides a night of extenuating circumstances. She had nothing but jealousy.

“Shall we eat?” she finally asked.

William smiled. She couldn’t see it, but she felt it. It was a pathetic smile, a smile that begged forgiveness and, at the same time, gave it.

All at once, she knew what she would do. She would cry—but not now. Not in front of him. Then, after she cried, she would come up with a real solution. It would only take time.

Smiling a conciliatory smile, she held back her tears. She remembered the big question from last night. Would the world end? Would they all die? Today, none of that seemed to matter. There was only her personal drama.

Valerie pushed her thoughts aside, and went about the task of eating, her manner mechanical. If not for the awkwardness of the occasion, the food would have been sumptuous. Instead, it was barely edible.

Finished with her food, Valerie waited for William to eat. She reached her hand into her purse, looking for lip-gloss, or a mirror, or anything to occupy her attention while she waited. She wrapped her fingers about an object she didn’t recognize and pulled out a chain of keys with an old class ring, a house charm, and a Batman pendant.

They were William’s keys.

Suddenly, she remembered him asking her to hold them, to keep them from him if he should get too drunk. Well, she had—but quite by accident—as she had also forgotten to keep herself sober enough to drive. Embarrassed, Valerie slid the keys across the table.

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