A Path Well Traveled

Chapter 2

Sharon liked him from the first moment she had seen him with his children. Their sons both played soccer together, and whenever his job allowed, he took Charlie to practice. She also knew his wife Sandra. The woman was nice enough, but not too eager to socialize. She did not seem to enjoy her son's new passion very much. Even though Andy was not much of a fan himself, still hoping the little boy would one day discover a love for baseball, he supported his son however he could. Sometimes, he sat on a bench, holding his daughter on his lap as they watched her little brother play, other times, he would help the coach out when he needed an additional hand.

In the beginning, they did not talk much, but over the first year, that changed. Andy discovered that she genuinely liked sports, and they had many playful arguments about the merits of football versus baseball. He laughed when she complained that, as a woman, she was automatically on concession stand duty. He stopped laughing when he found out that she knew more about soccer rules than he did. He had to admit that, while her brownies were spectacular, her skills were wasted in that area.

Sharon knew he was a police officer, too. They did not work together, but occasionally, they ran into one another at Parker Center or in one of the bars many of them went to after work. She did not do that so much anymore, unless she had to pick up her drunk husband. It was during those more and more frequent trips that she discovered that Andy seemed to spend an awful lot of time there, as well.

Then Jack left, and she only ever saw Andy when he managed to go to their sons' soccer practice. He teased her endlessly when, two years after starting, both boys decided to switch to baseball. She did not tell him that, while she loved to watch football, she had no particular desire for her son to take up that sport. She preferred his bones to stay intact.

They never talked much about their personal lives, but she noticed that his marriage seemed to become more and more strained. His file crossed her desk a few times, mostly complaints about excessive force or brawls with other officers that got out of hand. Only once did she have to talk to him about showing up under the influence. Fortunately, he had done nothing more than to yell at a superior officer. It got him a two week suspension without pay and a very firm warning that it had better not happen again.

Towards the end of the kids' first year of playing baseball, Andy stopped bringing Charlie to practice. It was always Sandra who took him. Sometimes, Sharon would find him in a remote corner during one of the games, well out of sight, watching his son play. She had heard rumors at work that his wife had thrown him out and filed for divorce. She had no idea what kind of custody agreement they had, but from the way Andy acted, Sharon suspected that Sandra had used his irregular working hours and his drinking to get sole custody. There were many times she wanted to ask him. Chances for an undisturbed conversation at the games were extremely rare, however. It was difficult enough to get him to exchange more than a handful of words as it was, if she managed to talk to him at all. He never joined her or the other parents. She assumed that he feared drawing Sandra's attention and that his would start a fight.

It saddened her to see a man who so obviously adored his children be pushed out of their lives, even if he carried at least part of the blame for the situation. Her own husband came and went however he saw fit, seldom remembering he even had a family whenever he was on one of his benders. He had promised more than once to stop drinking, but he never quite managed to stick with it.

It was after a particularly bad day when she'd had a horrible, public fight with Jack that Sharon ran into Andy in a bar. Not quite ready yet to go home and face the man who was currently occupying the guest room - if he even came home at all - she had driven out to the beach to take a long, relaxing walk. When that had not helped her wind down, she had stopped at a small bar by the side of the road on the way home. It was far enough away from Parker Center to make sure that she would not run into anyone she knew, which was exactly what she wanted. Apparently, Andy had had a similar idea.

Climbing onto the vacant bar stool next to him, she ordered a glass of Cabernet and stared at the row of glasses that stood next to the sink right in front of her. The water had definitely been cleaner, and she tried not to think too hard about the objects that floated among the very sparse soap bubbles. Her fingers brushed over the worn wood of the bar, circling a particularly deep dent in the rough surface.

"Bad day?"

It was Andy's gruff voice on her right that drew her out of her thoughts. She merely hummed before she took a large sip of her wine. It was sour and tasted of cork more than anything else. Sharon grimaced as she swallowed, already regretting that she had not gone for her typical Chardonnay. White wine was far more difficult to ruin than red.

"You?" she asked in response to his question.

Before he replied, Andy tossed back the rest of his Bourbon and signaled the bartender to refill his glass.

"Signed the papers today," he finally mumbled into his fresh drink, his eyes fixed on a random spot in front of him.

Sharon did not know what to say to him. He was obviously miserable, and there was nothing she would be able to say to make him feel better. Instead of words, she gently placed her hand on his arm where it rested on the bar. There were questions she wanted to ask, about his children, about his own situation, but she was unsure whether he would welcome the intrusion, so she remained silent, waiting for him to open up to her if he wanted to. If she worried about him, it would at least keep her from thinking too much about her own problems.

They sat in silence for a long time, both sipping their drinks and ordering refills. Andy told the bartender to put her wine on his tab. The second glass was not as bad as the first, Sharon decided. Or maybe she had gotten used to the way it burned all the way down her throat.

At some point, they started joking about an elderly couple at the other side of the bar. The woman appeared to be nagging her husband relentlessly, while he cradled his beer and listened in stoic silence as if he no longer heard her voice.

"At least I'll never be that guy," Andy finally admitted, the humor gone from his voice.

"I already was that woman," Sharon replied in a broken whisper, thinking of the words her husband had tossed at her earlier that day.

He abandoned his glass long enough to place his hand over hers where it still lay on his arm, giving it a soft squeeze. More silence followed as they both got lost in their own morose thoughts over several more drinks.

When Andy buried his face in his hands a little later, Sharon turned in her seat to face him, letting her hand slide up and down his back. She studied him closely, noticing the slightly shaky breaths and the almost imperceptible trembling of his shoulders. Discreetly scooting her stool closer to his, she put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him against her, not quite hugging, but letting him feel that he was not alone.

If her forehead had not been resting against his temple, she would not have heard the words that he uttered, voice thick with grief.

"They won't let me see the kids anymore. I wasn't even allowed to say goodbye."

Her heart broke for him. Sharon knew how much he loved those children and how much they loved him. He was a good father, but she also understood to some extent where Sandra was coming from. If Jack actually cared about his children, she was not certain whether she would allow him to be alone with them unless she could be sure that he was sober. To take them away from him completely would never occur to her, however – not unless he was violent.

At that moment, it would not help Andy to tell him that getting lost in a bottle was not a solution. Maybe she would try to broach that subject at another time, when they were not both more than just a little intoxicated. Instead, she tugged his head down to rest against her shoulder, letting her fingers comb through his hair.

She did not remember whose brilliant idea it had been to have sex in the backseat of her Volvo, or to have sex in the first place, but as she attempted to disentangle her sweaty limbs from Andy's, she realized that car sex did not get more glamorous with age.

Her first time with Jack had been in the back of his car, because their dorm rooms were always too crowded, and their parents would not leave them alone long enough to exchange more than a few kisses.

It had been awkward and embarrassing back then, parked in a somewhat romantic spot in the mountains. More than a decade later, in the dark, almost deserted parking lot of a closed bar, it was even more clumsy. That was not to say that it was unsatisfying. Far from it, in fact. Despite their highly inebriated state and the cramped space of the backseat, it had been pretty spectacular.

Andy was a thoughtful and surprisingly patient lover. He had made sure they found a position that was comfortable for her when she had kept getting cramps in her thigh, and when it became clear that his control was slipping too fast for her, he went down on her with so much determination that she fell apart three times before he was done.

They were good together. He instinctively knew how to touch her. There was plenty of fumbling and shuffling around, but it was fun. They laughed as much as they moaned, and even after she had collapsed on top of him, sweaty and spent, every twitch of him inside her, every brush of his fingertips against her skin made her shiver with renewed passion. They were barely done, and she already wanted him again.

Her mind inevitably went down that road, wondering what it would be like if they had a bed and an entire night to explore one another. It was a delicious thought, but she pushed it away. They should never have done it in the first place. The ink on his divorce papers was not even dry yet, and she was still technically married, even if Jack rarely remembered that fact.

Sharon was unable to suppress the disappointed sigh when Andy slipped out of her. She shifted a little underneath him to retrieve a handful of tissues from between the front seats to try and contain the mess they had created before it ended up on the upholstery. It took more effort than they liked to admit for them to sit up without someone getting crushed, and to get dressed once again. Maybe taking off all their clothes had not been such a smart idea, Their hunger for naked skin had been too great to ignore, though. Feeling his hands and lips all over her body had definitely been worth it.

As they shuffled around, handing underwear, socks, and shirts back and forth, there was no laughter anymore. Neither one of them knew what to say. The pleasant buzz of intoxication had worn off, and with it her temporary lapse in common sense. In its place, she felt guilt weighing heavily on her conscience. She had slept with a man who was not her husband, and while she felt horrible for having committed a sin, she still had a hard time feeling any regret. That, more than anything, concerned her. It did not matter how badly her husband had treated her or what kind of names he had called her. It also did not matter that he was not faithful, either. Sharon firmly believed in the sanctity of marriage, and the fact that Jack cheated on her whenever he felt like it, whether he was currently living at home or not, was not an excuse for her behavior.

Closing her eyes, Sharon clutched her dark blue sweater to her chest, curling her fingers into the soft fabric as she tried to keep the tears from spilling over her lashes. When had her life turned into such a mess? She used to be so happy. Jack had been a wonderful, loving husband and a doting father. There had been a time when she had no reason to doubt that he loved her deeply. When had that changed, and why had she not noticed until it was too late?

"Hey, come here," Andy rasped into her hair as he put an arm around her and pulled her against his side.

He was warm and solid, and she allowed herself to take the comfort he was offering, if only for a little while longer. She did not cry. That was not something she did in front of other people. Not even Jack had ever seen her shed more than a tear or two.

It took several minutes of deep, controlled breaths for her to regain some semblance of composure. The palms of her hands stung where her nails had dug into the skin, leaving crescent marks behind. All the while, Andy gently stroke her back in large, calming circles, patiently waiting for her to tell him what was wrong. She had not known that she even wanted to talk about it until the words began to spill out of her, barely more than a whisper.

"Jack came home three weeks ago. He promised that he wanted to do better and that he wanted to stop drinking and playing cards. He asked me to help him."

Andy pulled her closer, needing the closeness just as much as she did. He was aware of Jack's problems, just as he knew that he himself was drinking too much. It was what Sandra had kept telling him. And then she had tossed him out and taken his children away from him, leaving him with nothing else to fill his lonely nights than a bottle of bourbon.

"You said yes," he prompted, his words not really a question, because he already knew the answer.

"Of course. I love him, Andy. I want him to be well again. I want him to be the father our children need."

It was what he had expected. He had known Sharon long enough to be aware of how deeply she loved Jack Raydor. The man was a lucky son of a bitch to have a wife like her.

"So what happened?" If things had gone well, she would not have ended up in the back of her car with him. She would be at home with her family instead, and he would probably have found someone else to take his mind off of his problems.

Sharon sighed, absent-mindedly toying with the buttons of his shirt. "I was supposed to pick him up from a meeting, but he wasn't there. Instead, I found him at a strip club a few blocks from the community center. He was getting a lap dance from a barely dressed blonde."

Andy shook his head as he imagined the situation and how it must have hurt for her to find her husband like that.

"When I asked him to come home, he refused. We had a fight in the middle of that club with everyone looking on. I don't think I have ever felt that humiliated before. I was so angry." Her voice hitched, and she buried her face in the folds of his shirt to hide her struggle against a renewed flood of tears from him.

This time, a few tears escaped as she remembered how Jack had stood in the dimly lit room, swaying slightly on his feet, an angry scowl on his face. He had called her a horrible, nagging wife and a prude, among other things, accusing her of forcing him to drink and find his relief elsewhere. He had gotten right in her face and told her that no one would be able to be with her while sober. She had left after that, pushing through the curious onlookers until she stepped out into the fresh evening air. It was not until she had reached the relative privacy of her car that she had allowed herself to cry, if only for a brief moment. Then she had wiped away her tears, fixed her makeup, and decided to take advantage of her babysitter and drive out to the beach to give herself a little more time to calm down.

"I'm sorry, Sharon." It was all he could think to say. She did not need him to promise her that everything would be all right, that Jack would come around, that he would feel horrible once he was sober. He probably would, but Andy doubted that it would change anything. There would be apologies and promises, but it would not mean anything unless the other man would actually change.

Pulling out of his embrace, Sharon sat up once more, hastily swiping at her damp cheeks. She carefully shook out her sweater and pulled it over her head, running her fingers through her hair to untangle it. Next to her, Andy was busy straightening his own clothes in silence. When they were both done, Sharon stared at an old, dark smudge on the back of the front passenger seat, aware of his eyes resting on her, waiting for her to say something.

"This can't happen again, Andy," she finally said without looking at him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod. "I know," he replied, sounding defeated.

With a quick glance at him, she allowed her fingers to brush over the back of his hand that rested on his thigh.

"I'm a married woman." It was meant to reestablish the boundaries, to remind them why it would never be repeated. Instead, it sounded to both of them like an apology, like an unwelcome reason to stay away from something that had given both of them a means to escape. It had been nothing more, but for a few stolen moments, she had not thought about the precarious state of her marriage, or her cheating husband, or the possibility of coming home to another one of his letters.

He nodded once again, clearing his throat in an attempt to dislodge the lump that had settled there.

"I should…" He gestured towards the road that lay beyond the deserted parking lot.

"Yes. I have to go home, too, and relieve the babysitter."

There had been plans for her and Jack to go out for dinner after his meeting, so she had asked her neighbor to stay a little later than usual, but it was past midnight by now. She felt horrible for being so selfish. The elderly woman loved looking after her children, but to keep her up for so long just because Sharon felt like getting drunk and sleeping with someone she barely even considered a friend had not been part of the deal. She felt sick at the thought that she was no better than her wayward husband.

They both climbed out of the car, and Sharon walked around it to lock the doors before they both made their way to the street to find a taxi that would take them home. She had not planned to leave her car behind, but despite not feeling intoxicated anymore, she knew that she was still over the legal limit, and she was glad that Andy was being responsible as well.

Their farewell was brief, a whispered good night and a gentle brush of lips against cheek. She watched him stand on the sidewalk as her taxi pulled away, and she already missed his presence beside her. She dreaded coming home to the loneliness that filled her life. While she loved her children with all her heart, they could not replace what had been missing from her marriage for several years. Even when Jack was home, he was not really present anymore. He tried, but his mind and heart were elsewhere. She had not realized it until Andy had reminded her what it felt like to be with someone who truly saw and appreciated her. She was under no illusion that their little indiscretion was anything more than that to him, but he had made her see just how much things had changed in her marriage, even during those times when Jack was trying.

It would be easy to give up, to do as Andy's wife had done and walk away from her husband and maybe find her happiness elsewhere, but that was not who she was. Sharon had never been a quitter, and she would not start now. After what had happened between her and Andy, she was not exactly in a position to judge. They both had made mistakes, and maybe it was time to let go of what was in the past and try to build a better future. Eleven years ago, she had sworn in front of a priest that she would love Jack Raydor, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health. Maybe Jack had forgotten those vows, but she had not. She would fight for her marriage, and that was a fight she intended to win.

~TBC~