House of Cards, Part 3

    The following story is a sequel to "A Second Chance" (posted 19 January
1998). While it is not necessary to read "A Second Chance" before reading the
story below, it provides some background that may not be supplied below in
"House of Cards".

    Also, a special thanks to SSTORYMAN -- for providing me with the
motivation to keep going and all the help during the rigorous editing process.


    House of Cards - Part 3/5


    5. Trouble in Paradise

    Life was beginning to settle into somewhat of a regular routine for Diane
and Steve. The day to day grind of just being civil to one and other reminded
them that their marriage had ceased to remain special. However, neither could
trace their problems to one single event. It had just been a gradual downhill
slide since Kristen was born. About the time I started smoking again, Diane
would say. But that wasn't entirely true. Once Diane started smoking, she
became noticeably more happy and vibrant. Steve picked up on these traits and
for a period of about a year, their sex life did improve. But then it waned.
It was also during this time that Diane got pregnant again. Steve was more or
less ambivalent towards her smoking until she announced that she going to have
a baby. Still, neither openly discussed her quitting this time. Steve just
noticed that Diane seemed to not be smoking. He no longer saw the telltale
signs - the packs of cigarettes loosely hidden in her dresser drawers, the
slight tobacco fragrance in her hair or on her breath. Her lighters had
disappeared from around the house and car, the ubiquitous breath mints also
disappeared and he noticed that she was a bit more irritable at certain times
during the day. Diane had done a good job keeping her habit under control
though. She only smoked outside when at home and she was able to keep her
consumption down to about six a day most of the time. Then, with a second baby
on the way, she managed not to smoke at all -- eight months this time. Both
knew that her smoking was a delicate subject so they ignored it. However, much
to Steve's chagrin, about a week after Amy was born he knew Diane was smoking
again. She didn't even try to hide it. Steve desperately wanted to confront
her and remind her about their 'agreement' but he didn't. Again, there was
just too much water under the bridge and neither wished to rock the boat
during the stressful time of dealing with a new baby in the house.

    About the time Amy was born, the two couldn't have been going in more
opposite directions. Diane, feeling the common post-delivery depression was
increasing her cigarette consumption to about ten a day. And she was not
working out at all. Steve, on the other hand was in prime physical condition
due to his heavy involvement with his triathlon training and racing. Triathlon
was his hobby and passion and it was consuming an inordinate amount of time.
He owned a $3,000 carbon fiber road bike with special racing wheels, five
pairs of running and cycling shoes, several Speedos and assorted pairs of swim
goggles, running shorts and Oakley sunglasses. This was nothing unusual
though. All his training buddies were hardcore just like him. In fact, Diane
noted, the entire sport was populated with fitness fanatics easily willing to
plunk down whatever it cost to own the latest high tech training toy or pay
the exorbitant entry fee for a triathlon itself (some of which approached $120
per race). Steve's newly acquired training partners seemed nice enough to
Diane. They all lived within an easy ride of one another and they all spent
many hours dedicated to swimming, biking and running. Of these partners,
several of them were women. All of them would go out on 50 to 100 mile rides
on Saturdays and long runs on Sundays. Then, during the week they would all
join a bigger group (a US Masters swim team) for a 3500 meter workout in the
pool every Monday, Wednesday and Friday beginning at 5:30 AM and lasting till
7 AM. Other free periods during the week were devoted to individual training
such as running in the neighborhood or taking a quick 20 mile spin on the bike
after work. Steve would try to encourage Diane to run with him during these
'easy' workouts. At first, Diane politely tried to extricate herself from his
sports madness by offering a number of excuses. Then she began just saying
flat out no. Steve would shake his head and proceed out the front door in his
running attire while Diane would proceed out the back door onto their deck for
a smoke.

    One early Saturday morning their doorbell rang. Diane had been up with Amy
for the last hour finishing up her 5 AM feeding. As she casually walked to the
front door to see who it was, Charlie, their new Labrador was barking his head
off. "Quiet down Charlie," Diane spoke.

    Diane, by her own standards, was a mess. Her hair was disheveled, bent in
odd positions from sleep. She still had not taken off her makeup from the
night before and she was wearing an old bathrobe that covered her now
less-than-optimum figure.

    Great, who could this be at this hour?

    "Oh...good morning. Is Steve ready?" said the cute little blond slightly
surprised by the person confronting her. She was straddling her bicycle and
was wearing some very slick sunglasses and bike helmet. No one else appeared
to be with her. Diane also noticed that she was wearing some very tight
fitting cycling shorts and a colorful crop-top jersey. Her ponytail hung from
the back of her helmet. Diane felt like something had just socked her in the
stomach. She wasn't quite sure how to react to such a surreal image this early
in the day.

    Every Saturday morning Steve got up to go ride and was gone until almost
noon. He always rode off to meet his buddies at some mutual location. Rarely
did they come to the door looking for him. Diane had suspected that some girls
were part of their riding group. In fact Steve had mentioned it, but this bit
of reality came as somewhat of a shock. Here was this...this little tri-cutie
standing on the porch, alone, asking if Steve could come out and play.
Something was wrong with this picture. Diane just stared at her.

    "Uh, we were supposed to go riding this morning. Did he oversleep or
something?" said little Miss Tri-Queen.

    "I don't know. I've been downstairs." Diane continued her blank stare.

    Just then, Steve came running down from the bedroom in cycling shorts
struggling to get his arms through his jersey. "I'll be right there Becky, I'm
running late. Sorry," he said from behind Diane's back.

    Diane nodded politely to this 'Becky' then said, "Excuse me," and shut the
front door on her. Steve was rushing into the garage to get his bike down off
its hooks. Diane followed him.

    "Just what the hell's going on?" she demanded.

    "What do you mean? I'm going riding," he retorted clearly aware of the
awkward situation.

    "With that....that person on our porch?"

    "Yeah. In case you haven't noticed, I ride with a group every weekend. She
just happens to be in the group."

    "Oh, so you're going to meet some other people then?" Diane asked rather
flatly.

    "No, not this morning. Everyone else is either out of town or busy."

    They glared at each other in a brief silence.

    "So," Diane paused. "So, it's just the two of you then?"

    "Yeah," Steve said with exasperation. "What's wrong with that? I've been
riding with Becky for about a year now."

    Diane didn't know what else to say. There was something wrong, she just
felt it. "Ummmm," was about all she could manage. She turned to walk back to
bed. "Have a nice ride.......asshole."


    6. House of Cards

    Steve and Diane sort of tumbled along over the next couple of years. They
experienced both the good and the bad, the highs and the lows of marriage as
the kids grew from babies to early school age. Nothing solid really changed
between them. Steve still continued with his triathlon and Diane continued to
smoke and get no real exercise. But the open complaining about it to each
other pretty much ceased. At times Diane felt like things were going well,
that she was on an even keel. Then she'd have days from hell...kind of like
Holly Golightly's mean reds and depressing blues all rolled into one. It was
as though life was imploding on her and no amount of smoking or daily dose of
Prozacs could cure it. This was her state as she lay in bed watching the
slowly spinning fan above her and reminiscing about the last seven years with
Steve. Getting up from the bed took a heroic effort. Amy needed picking up
from pre-school, Kristen's soccer practice would be next. Life goes on, Diane
thought rather darkly. She would talk to Steve tomorrow.
    _______________

    "I told you, I feel like I'm going crazy sometimes. I've got to do
something." She was crying.

    "What about those little pills you take each morning? Don't they help?" he
asked.

    Diane shook her head. "I've been faithfully taking one everyday for four
months. Either I need a larger dose or I need a different drug. Besides, I'm
sick of taking pills!" she said in a slightly raised voice.

    "Yeah, but isn't seeing a shrink a little extreme? What do you think's
wrong?"

    "Steve, what do you want me to admit?" That I'm depressed? That I feel I
have no real direction in my life, no friends, what?" Diane waited for a
response. None came. She continued, "Is that what you need to hear? Because I
don't think you want to. You're too wrapped up in your own life to want to
hear my problems." She grabbed some more Kleenex.

    "I don't know. I just thought we could work through any problems
ourselves. I don't feel we've got that many problems," Steve finally said.

    "How can you say that? You're gone all the time. When you're not flying,
you're out doing your damn training." She made 'training' sound like a vile
word. "What does that leave me with? Two young children, that need your
presence too by the way, a dog, two cats to feed and a pile of laundry and
ironing to do. When do I get a life? When do we get to do the things that most
married couples do?"

    "What do you mean, most married couples?" said Steve.

    "I'm talking about going out together, with other people. Seeing things.
Going on vacation as a family. Your idea of a vacation last year was to go to
Hawaii to see the stupid Ironman. We have no mutual friends, Steve. Your
entire life revolves around triathlon and your training buddies. We never go
out because you're either too tired from your long day of exercising or you
already have something planned."

    Steve decided not to retort. He couldn't. Deep down he knew she had valid
points. It was just that their lives had been drifting apart for so long that
he never considered what he was doing was hurting anything.

    "Well, again, why the shrink? Seems to me we should start marriage
counseling or something."

    Oh no. Not again. Diane had been through counseling with Ron and felt it
didn't help her one iota nor did it save their marriage. No, she wanted help
for herself. Subconsciously, she had practically written off the marriage.

    "Steve, I'll be honest with you. I need help. I've thought about it long
and hard. I've got things I need to strengthen that have nothing to do with
the marriage. We've got our problems, that's for sure but first I feel I've
got to get my head on right."

    Diane had thought about it long and hard. Seeing a psychiatrist sounded
like a good solution. She needed a friend, a person that was truly interested
in saving her, someone that she could talk to and that would listen; not
someone that would tell her to write down a list of things she could do to
save her marriage. She'd already done that and in the end, not only did it
fail, she felt that SHE failed.

    "Why don't you feel you've got a life? You do a lot of important things.
You should take stock in the fact that you're a decent homemaker and wonderful
mother to our children. Those things are important Diane." He was really
trying to help her and didn't have a clue as to how hollow the words sounded.

    "Steve, I'm a Soccer Mom for Christ's sake! But the thing is, I'm NOT like
those other women. I'm different. I've got dreams, I want to do things...."
The crying started again, only more intensely. She was hoping he'd come over
and put his arms around her. Instead he just looked away.

    The sobs continued until Steve broke in and said, "It sounds to me like
you're just feeling sorry for yourself." Then he regretted it.

    Diane immediately stopped her whimpering and stared at him through
narrowed eyes. Her lower chin stuck out and her neck swelled. The look on her
face truly began to scare him. There was some information that she'd kept,
kept to herself for almost a month now. Under normal circumstances, she
would've continued to remain quiet but the stress brought on by Steve's remark
caused her to blurt it out.

    "I saw you with her! I saw you two sitting in Bertucci's like you were on
some kind of date or something! Don't even deny it!"

    Steve's face was frozen. He certainly did remember - he couldn't deny it.
It was the evening of their last fight. He thought he'd been careful all
along. Nonetheless, he wasn't sure how much she knew so he decided to ask some
innocent questions. "Deny what? That I went out for pizza with a few friends.
Diane, you're making too big an issue of this in your mind."

    "In my mind? Is that where you think it is? I DIDN'T see you with..., with
little Miss What's-her-name? Oh, Christ! Give me a break." Diane knew her name
all right. She just couldn't bring herself to say it in his presence.

    "Becky? Yeah, she was with us. I told you, there's a whole group of us
that train together. Some women but mostly guys."

    "Okay hotshot. Since when did you start doing things outside training with
these 'some-women-but-mostly-guys'? Don't give me that bullshit. There was no
one at that table but you and her! God, this pisses me off. You don't get it.
I SAW you, I was there!"

    Meekly Steve said, "You weren't there, you weren't in the restaurant."

    Very sarcastically Diane retorted, "Honey, you're forgetting. You're
daughter's piano lesson is in that very same strip mall. I walked right by the
window that evening. Christ, you'd think you'd have picked a less visible
table at least." There were no tears showing now. Diane had become rather smug
after her little rage although she hurt more than Steve knew.
    ______________

    Steve had agreed mostly through silence that Diane could start seeing a
psychiatrist, at least for some initial testing. Steve's medical plan with
Delta Airlines would only cover 50% even with a referral but he didn't care.
He reasoned that he couldn't lose much more at this point. Plus, he wanted to
appease her with anything possible in the wake of the Becky sighting.

    One of the first things that Dr. Allen ('call me Al') Fields did with
Diane was get her off the Prozac initially prescribed by her general
practitioner. He needed to observe her without any trace of antidepressants in
her system. Another thing he did that completely surprised Diane but made her
very happy was let her smoke as she pleased throughout their one-hour
sessions. She surmised (correctly) that Dr. Fields was not a fetisher as he
gave no indication that she turned him on either when she smoked in front of
him or not. Maybe he's gay, Diane had thought to herself, then laughed it off.

    After her third meeting, Diane was starting to feel very comfortable with
'Al'. Her first visit had been more or less a 'why are you here, what are your
expectations?' kind of thing. The second involved the review her medical
history as well as some very serious questionnaires that she had filled out
between appointments. On the third meeting, Diane found herself doing about
95% of the talking. Stuff about herself, her background, her dreams, her
mother, her father. The hour had passed so quickly and she smoked continually.
At first, she was nervous about smoking in Al's office. It just didn't seem
right. Not these days, she reminded herself, not when smoking is practically
outlawed everywhere indoors. But on her third appointment, Diane walked in
with a lit cigarette and left with the same. She was only supposed to be
smoking six a day but this day she surprised herself by smoking six in just
one hour. The fact was, she was now up to smoking a pack of Virginia Slims
Menthol Lights a day. Dr. Fields had unknowingly raised her nicotine addiction
level to a new height and she needed to smoke twenty just to feel like she did
after six. So what? My doctor says it's okay, she rationalized.

    She was now smoking at home, in the car, in bed, at soccer practice,
wherever she felt like it. She took quiet delight in watching the other
mothers' expressions when she pulled out one of her long white cigarettes at
one of Kristen's games. The kids now knew mommy smoked and Steve was not
happy. He continued to allow Diane's sessions at her 'shrink' although there
was no attempt on his part to make their marriage better. He had spent the
last five years or so creating his own life and he was happy with it. Let
Diane have hers, he reasoned.
    _______________

    Diane woke up in a rare, happy mood on this morning. It was Thursday and
she had her weekly 2 o'clock session with Al to look forward to. Lately this
was about her only out-of-the-house activity that she enjoyed. After she got
the kids off to school, she decided to call her sister before getting dressed.
She poured a fresh cup of coffee, lit her fifth cigarette of the day and
headed upstairs carrying the walkaround phone to her bed. Diane decided to
enjoy her coffee and cigarette before dialing Carole's number. Last time
Carole gave me shit over the phone because she could hear me smoking, she
remembered.

    Diane sat back resting against the pillows taking immense pleasure from
watching the smoke leave her body and float out over the bed. She found that
by re-inhaling that she could make the effect last even longer. As soon as the
smoke would fade to just about nothing, she would take another long drag and
repeat the process of letting a little smoke go, then breathing back in, then
letting a little more go, then breathing back in again. She counted six
exhales on one puff. Diane was in a very pleasurable relaxed state when all of
a sudden the walkaround phone resting next to her came to life. She pursed her
lips and forced the remaining smoke from her lungs then pushed the talk
button.

    "Hello?" she spoke, still slightly jarred from her blissful state.

    "Diane?" a man's voice asked.

    "Yes?"

    "God, I can't believe I found you. It's been a long time."

    The voice sounded familiar. In fact she thought she recognized it but she
still needed to buy some time so she asked, "Who is this?"

    "It's Ron."

    "Ron?" She hadn't heard from Ron since their divorce became official over
seven years ago. The entire process was fairly uncomplicated. Diane had
married Steve soon afterwards and there were no children or child support to
worry about. Why's he calling now?

    "Yeah, it's me." So how are you doin'? I'm here in town and just thought
I'd give you a call."

    "Oh. Well, fine I guess. What are you doing in Atlanta?" She wanted to
ask, how the hell did you find me? She hadn't thought about Ron for quite a
while but she remembered his legacy. The smoke hanging in the bedroom air was
a reminder of what Ron had (given?) her. Ron and Linda, she thought. She
wondered how THAT relationship ended up.

    "I'm here on business for a couple of days. I got your number from Carole.
I hope you don't mind." He sounded friendly.

    Carole. It figures, Diane shook her head. Subconsciously, she flipped the
lid on her Virginia Slims and pulled out her sixth cigarette of the day. "No,
it's interesting hearing from you. It HAS been a long time. What's going on
with you?"

    "Oh, gosh....well, a lot, I guess."

    There were volumes left hanging in that response, Diane thought. She knew
Ron. He wanted to tell her about how things had turned out. Now there was some
curiosity rising inside her. What's his story now? She asked an obvious
question, "Are you married?"

    "Married?" He laughed a bit. "Well, I was. As I said Diane, a lot has
happened. Look, it'd be great to see you, just catch up on things. I'm here in
town and I've got a little free time. Maybe we could meet for lunch or
something, you could bring, uh, Steve. Just talk, catch up on things," he said
again. "No pressure. Really. It'd be great to see you two."

    See us two? She could not recollect Ron ever meeting Steve. How much else
does he know about my life?

    Ron sounded the same, talking quickly in his usual clipped sentences.
Diane knew her nature was to always be accommodating and she knew she would
agree to see Ron even though she felt it odd to do so.

    "Well, I've got kids. I've got to pick them up this afternoon and run them
around. Steve's out of town flying. What do you have in mind?" She was not
going to invite him out to the house.

    "I've got meetings downtown here all day. Maybe we could meet for a drink
or something after that?" He sounded hopeful.

    Diane figured she'd have to get a babysitter. Plus, it was a school night.
And, she didn't like the prospect of driving downtown at night either. "Ron, I
think it's nice that you called. It's going to be tough to get together
though. Like I said, I've got kids that have to get to school tomorrow. I
can't come all the way down there tonight."

    "Oh," Ron paused. "Well, I don't want to make this difficult. How about if
we meet out near your house? I just want to visit....just see you again."

    Diane was torn. On one hand, she was curious. She wondered how Ron was
doing. She wanted to hear how things were going back in her old town. On the
other hand, something told her that there was more to the meeting than Ron was
letting on.

    Oh, what the hell. "Okay, I can probably get away for a couple of hours
after seven. We can meet at Houston's. It's a place near here."

    She gave him directions, said goodbye, then hung up. Ron sounded very
enthusiastic, very friendly. Diane found herself almost looking forward to the
meeting. What can go wrong, she assured herself. As she sat back in bed and
took another leisurely puff on her cigarette, she wondered if she should smoke
in front of Ron tonight.
    ________________

    Ron arrived at Houston's ahead of Diane. He wanted to get a booth for both
of them in just the right location. He wanted the meeting to go well. There
were no real expectations, but underneath he hoped this wouldn't be the only
time he'd get to see Diane. He ordered a double scotch on the rocks.

    Diane headed out of the house right at 7 PM. It was only about a 15 minute
drive to the restaurant / bar. She got into her white Jeep Cherokee and
frowned. 'Mom's car', she thought. She didn't want to feel like a mom tonight.
Damn Steve for making me sell my Miata. She punched the lighter in and waited
while her Virginia Slims dangled from her lips. This could be the last
cigarette of the evening, she thought. Diane still hadn't resolved if she was
going to smoke in front of Ron or not.

    Ron stood up as the waitress led Diane to his table. He could see she
wasn't quite sure how to handle the initial greeting so he leaned over and
gave her a big hug. He almost certainly thought he detected smoke on Diane's
clothes. They both stepped back and looked each other over. She was beaming a
huge smile and looked absolutely radiant to him.

    Diane had gotten dressed very carefully this evening. She didn't want to
over do it but her female instinct told her to look as good as possible to
show him what he'd lost. In short, she was fantastic. Her straight
shoulder-length blond hair, her delicate yet effective use of makeup and her
smart casual clothes combined to make her look especially attractive tonight.
She even wore a touch of Shalamar, which used to be Ron's favorite perfume.

    "God, Diane, what have you been doing to yourself? You look younger now
than when we got married," Ron said trying to sound sincere.

    She knew him better than that. "Yes, and you haven't changed a bit since
we got divorced," she said. "Still the slick salesman."

    "Come on Diane. I'm not selling anything tonight," Ron retorted with a
smile and mock indignation.

    "I know. Thanks for the compliment." She wished she could've offered the
same back to him. The truth was, Ron looked as though he'd put on about 20
pounds since she last saw him and his hair had receded a little more. He was
quickly approaching middle age.

    They made idle chit chat after the waitress came to take Diane's drink
order. "A glass of your house Merlot please," she had said. Ron then got into
a little on why he was in Atlanta on business -- clients, customers, etc.,
blah, blah, blah. Diane then told him some about her two kids and how they
keep her busy. Everything was running very superficially until Ron stopped the
conversation and announced he had something to say.

    "Well, it's not that big a deal. I just thought I'd tell you now rather
than later."

    "What? What?" Diane was intrigued. After all, this is why she came -- to
get the dirt on Ron and whoever else he might talk about.

    "Okay. I smoke." He paused. "There. It's out now." He smiled as he looked
her straight in the eyes. "Can you believe it?"

    "Yes." She knew Ron. It was only a matter of time. He couldn't feed his
fetish of watching women, and getting involved with women that smoke and not
eventually become a smoker himself. She suspected that he was an in-the-closet
smoker even while they were married.

    "What do you mean, 'yes'?" He was still smiling trying to show that
everything was cool. "You've got to admit that you're a little surprised."

    The truth was, Diane was very surprised. This whole scene had a mild déjà
vu sense to it. Here was Ron, the anti-smoker who couldn't even stand the
smell, who got HER hooked in the first place, now telling her that he had
started smoking. Diane had a million questions. She was going to enjoy this.

    "Yeah, I'm shocked actually." Diane said in a sort of ho-hum way. "I
thought you hated the smell of cigarette smoke," she hesitated, "with only one
or two major exceptions." If you know what I mean, she wanted to add.

    The waiter arrived with Diane's Merlot and Ron's second scotch. The
Tuesday evening atmosphere in the restaurant was hectic and festive, tables
were mostly filled and the ambient noise from the patrons was matching the
background music level. A pleasant din pervaded the room. Diane quickly
observed that they were in the smoking section, not far from the booth she
occupied several years earlier when she resumed smoking after Kristen. The
urge for a cigarette beckoned.

    Ron took a long sip from his drink. "So, Diane. Are you still smoking
after all these years? His eyebrows raised slightly after asking the question.
He knew the answer.

    Diane reached into her purse and produced an opened pack of Virginia Slims
Menthol Lights. "Remember these?" she asked. It was an identical pack to the
one Ron had bought her when he first asked her to smoke for him.

    "Excellent. I'm glad some things never change."

    Diane wanted to laugh and keep things light but there was still a part of
her that hurt. She didn't even realize it until just now sitting across from
Ron. Nonetheless, she opened the lid on her pack of cigarettes and took one
out. Ron immediately produced an expensive lighter and lit it for her. Their
eyes maintained contact the entire time Diane drew on the cigarette. Diane
inhaled then spoke, "So, you going to have one with me?"

    "Sure, yeah." Ron reached into his coat pocket and produced a pack of
Marlboro Light 100s. Linda's old brand, Diane immediately noticed. Ron lit his
cigarette like an expert, like he'd been doing it for years. Still, Diane was
mesmerized. She never thought she'd see the day, she marveled.

    They continued to talk and smoke for the better part of an hour, mostly
about what they were doing in the present. Ron talked about his company's
business, Diane talked about her children and home. Nothing too dangerous,
Diane thought. However, the entire time Diane was smoking, Ron could not keep
his eyes off of her. She was very much aware of it yet she was still willing
to put on a show for him. Nose exhales would drive Ron nuts, she remembered.
Diane was careful to mix these with her normal multiple-burst exhales from
pursed lips. This was all great fun for Diane. The thing that she became aware
of the most throughout the conversation was that it was so enjoyable to be
chatting with a fellow smoker in a restaurant filled with other people just
like them. God, she missed this. She was suddenly an adult again doing adult
things, drinking and smoking. She took a long drag on her cigarette and
inhaled deeply. As the smoke rested in her lungs, she decided that this is
something she was going to do more of, with or without Steve. She needed this
kind of contact.

    Just as things started to sag in the conversation, Diane couldn't resist
asking about Linda. Linda used to be her friend. Well, sort of. She and Ron
had conspired to get Diane to smoke. Then came the affair, and the rest, as
they say, is history. "Ron, you said you were married. Was it to Linda?"

    He looked slightly embarrassed. Diane felt bad that she'd asked. "I'm
sorry," she said.

    "No, no, it's okay. I thought you might know all this anyway." Ron waited,
took another sip from his drink, then continued. "Yeah, Linda and I got
married after she split from Keith. I thought I was in love, ha." He looked
down at his drink and took out another cigarette.

    Diane followed his lead with another from her pack. He lit both, then
continued. "Love was not the word. She made it so easy to be around. She
listened to all my problems, she was so confident."

    "Problems? What problems?" Diane bristled. She was the one that had the
problems in his view, she thought.

    "Well, after I got you to start smoking, I regretted it. But Linda helped
me see that it was okay. She understood me. She understood my fetish like no
other woman. I loved the way you tried to help me, by smoking in bed with me
and all but I knew that you thought I was twisted. I also was in love, in lust
actually, with Linda. I tried to get you to quit through pressure and rules
before I split so that you wouldn't be left affected by all this." He stared
at the cigarette between Diane's fingers, "Guess I failed miserably, huh?"
then laughed to himself.

    "Ron, don't worry about my smoking. In some ways, it's the best thing that
ever happened to me, in other ways though, it's been difficult."

    "Difficult? Does Steve not smoke?"

    Diane shook her head as she exhaled a long, wonderful stream of smoke
toward the light. "Never, not once. He's into sports. He runs, he swims, he
bikes." The vision of little Miss Becky popped into her head. She frowned and
started another long puff.

    Ron stared. "It looks like you enjoy smoking Diane. You do it well. Have
you ever quit?"

    "Just when the babies came along. It was pure hell, though."

    "Yeah, I know what you mean. I tried to quit after Linda left," he
corrected himself, "uh, after we split up. I went right back in a few weeks."

    They smoked in silence until the waitress brought the check. Diane took a
last puff on her cigarette, then looked at her Seiko. "Oh, God. It's 11
o'clock. I'm late. The sitter will probably be pissed, she's got school
tomorrow too."

    Ron rose from his seat and moved in Diane's direction. She got up and
collected her purse and cigarettes. Very spontaneously, they kissed. It was
not a deep, passionate kiss but it did signal to each other that they still
cared.

    "I'll call you sometime when I get back in town," he volunteered.

    "That'd be nice," she said, as she turned to leave then turned back.
"Thanks Ron. Thanks for the drinks."

    He nodded as he stood at the table watching her disappear.

    During the drive home, Diane was a sea of emotions. On the surface, this
was a very enjoyable evening. However, the undertones from it ran deep. She
could easily see that Ron was trying to atone for their marital debacle yet
there was more to him tonight than just
'hey-sorry-about-seven-years-ago-can-we-still-be-friends?' Nonetheless, Diane
did enjoy his company and openly admitted to herself that she wouldn't mind
seeing him again. After all, there was something Ron had given her that she
couldn't shake, something very special and yet so frail and ultimately
confusing. Why am I like this, she practically cried out in the car. She
suddenly felt so vulnerable. Oh, what a mess I'm in, she lamented. The tears
started down her cheeks. She felt she needed to see Dr. Al sooner than next
week.


    Diane stayed up well past midnight once she got home. After paying the
sitter and checking on the kids, she went down into their large finished
basement, switched on the stereo and selected a Mary Chapin Carpenter CD (her
favorite singer). The folksy melody and lyrics were very haunting and seemed
to speak directly to her.

    "On the surface it looked so safe but it was perilous underneath.
    That's the place where you shared your doubts and hid your ugly scars.
    God forbid if word got out about your house of cards.
    And now I feel the wind about to blow, baby I'm so scared.
    We're repeating the past instead of letting it go -
    And I don't want to go back there."

    Something was drawing her into an abyss. Pulling her faster than she felt
she could control. That's it, she concluded. I'm not in control of any of
this. My life is like that song, a movie perhaps with characters following a
close script yet, somehow, I've lost mine. This was the dilemma she
contemplated the rest of the evening -- when and where did my script
disappear?

    Diane lit her final cigarette from what was a fresh pack at noon. God,
this is the most I can remember smoking in a day, she thought as she inhaled
deeply. So what, as if I care, she answered herself, I'm no longer in control.
Besides, Dr. Al says it's okay.

    She lay back on the big-cushioned sofa and continued to smoke as the music
faded away. Diane found herself holding her breath for a long 20 seconds
letting each inhale soak into her lungs. Her exhales were non-existent. She
suspected that smoking in this manner was probably not good for her. Fuck it,
it makes me happy, she reasoned.

    The clock on the VCR was fuzzy as Diane woke from a brief doze on the
couch. It was saying that is was 1:88. She lay there for a second and
concentrated. Well, it's not 1:88, oh, 1:34. Either way, I've got to get
upstairs and get to bed. Steve will be home tomorrow night. Diane stumbled up
both staircases to the master bedroom and fell asleep face down on her bed.

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