There’s something about cool, summer evenings in Fresh Water that has a way of drawing people out of their homes. Sometimes, the dark sky is either covered by a blanket of twinkling stars or illuminated by the iridescent glow of the moon hanging over the silhouette of tall mountains. It makes the perfect backdrop for friends to gather and amuse themselves with drink and laughter, and for lovers to sneak away to some nook or cranny for a night of sweet romance.

Jesse has done both.

These days, however, when he seeks out the darkness, it’s more for the privacy it allows him with his thoughts. For in the dark, no one can truly scrutinize the depth of his melancholy. He can wear his sadness in peace with no pretense and without anyone feeling sorry for him.

The sounds of nature welling after the sun has set, and after being smothered all day long by the hubbub dispensed by man-made noises is, in his mind, a sign that his life should be far more peaceful. It’s not that the wind rustling the leaves, or the chirp of crickets mixing with the croak of frogs, and the steady trickle of water flowing over rocks blend together in any particularly harmonious sort of way. The sound isn’t a great symphony that could blow anyone’s mind and he wouldn’t go so far as to describe it as magical either. But somehow, the cacophonous medley of even the occasional screech of an owl, and critters skittering through the brush work to offer him a measure of calm. Listening to them has a way of making it seem like some things are still functioning as they should -- despite the turmoil inside him. Back when his marriage had taken on that first dour note, that’s what these lonesome nights cloaked in darkness had come to mean. He used to feel hopeful then that things would work out.

Slowly, his nights enjoying the peace around him had morphed into an escape route to avoid another confrontation with his wife. The petty, unsubstantiated allegations of infidelity that she’d leveled against him daily had eventually become warn his defenses thin until they became non-existent. It probably hadn’t helped his case that he’d always chosen to sit on the porch facing Tullisa’s front door and her upstairs bedroom window. Doing so must have fueled his wife’s wild illusions and irrational rantings about the suspected illicit affair he was having with his younger neighbor. Maybe subconsciously, he’d just been trying to annoy and aggravate the hell out of her or punish her for treating him like shit; by feeding what he assumes were her worst fears.

Really, he’d just loved the sound of the water flowing at the back of the house.

On nights when he’d ventured outside to get away from her, he’d found solace in the darkness by listening to the melange in the air rather than focusing on the proof of his failure as a husband and her hateful words. God knows she’d made no secret of that nor how much she didn’t love him. In her own words, ′had never loved him’.

It hadn’t always been that way for Jesse. He hadn’t always tried to evade his wife. Even before they had been married all she’d had to do was bat an eyelash and he’d come running to prove his devotion. As newly weds, he’d done his utmost to demonstrate his worth as a husband. And when their marriage had soured, he’d tried with everything he had in him to placate her in any way that he could think of before finally throwing in the towel.

Maybe giving up had been a mistake. Maybe he should have fought harder. Maybe if their son had lived, he would have.

And ‘their’ son? He’s still not certain about that but it’s one mystery he prefers to go to the grave without solving. He simply prefers to think of the little still-born babe as his own. Otherwise...

Otherwise what?

Jesse sighs.

It’s no secret that his wife had been guilty of the very thing she’d accused him of. At one point, she’d stopped caring enough to hide her indiscretions. She’d basically flaunted it in his face. She'd twisted up his love and thrown it back at him in the cruelest of fashions.

And to think that he’d done every single thing that she’d asked of him in an effort to save their marriage. On her command, he’d shunned both Tullisa and Lily. As a matter of fact, he’d basically isolated himself from just about every unattached female whom his wife had deemed a threat. Just to allay her suspicions. She’d simply found some other way to twist that up too and lay another set of false and outlandish accusations at his feet; like obeying her order by breaking off contact with these innocent women was somehow proof of his adulterous nature. No matter what, it had been impossible to win with her.

To this day, he has no idea what had planted that seed in her mind -- that ridiculous notion about Tullisa and he. No amount of pleading or explaining or reasoning on his part had been able to convince her differently.

Maybe things wouldn’t have turned out as disastrous as they had if one of them had possessed a constitution stronger than that of the town’s unwritten law that saw divorce as the greatest sin a person could commit. Other than to save face, there really had been no reason to stay. They’d both been miserable. Towards the end, she hadn’t touched him in longer than he cares to remember. And yet, he’d been faithful down the last. All her accusations and name calling and insults and disdainful glares had killed him inside. The knowledge that she’d done the unthinkable had buried what had been left of his heart under an avalanche of pain and grief so deep it still resides there. Never once had he stepped outside of the sanctity of his union with her like she’d claimed. Except for the possibility of last night, he’d never been with another woman.

Either way, it makes no difference to think about those things now. His marriage had been a miserable failure and that’s that.

Tonight, Jesse had stepped out onto his back porch merely out of habit and nothing else. Like every other thing in his life, the wonder of listening to nature incrementally lost it’s appeal during the upheaval of his life.

His decision to take a stroll outside had nothing to do with hoping to run into Tullisa either. After the kind of day that he’d had, he’d be keen to avoid her for a little while longer. At least until the gears in his brain are working at full capacity again. He’d spent the entire day trying to figure out the best way to glean from her whether or not they’d slept together. There’s still no logical way in his mind to broach the topic so he’d done the next best thing. He’d avoided her like she was a debt collector and the quandary has left him in a worse mood than he’s experienced in years.

Clive had certainly been no help. That bastard had teased him more than anything else all throughout the day. Every time that his friend had pretended to see Tullisa somewhere by calling, ‘hey Tullisa’ or whispered to Jesse, ‘look, it’s Tullisa,’ had seen Jesse jumping out of his skin or ducking for cover.

So stepping onto that damned patio facing her house tonight had been a fool’s idea. Had his mind not been too occupied he wouldn’t have done it.

Three things shocked Jesse when he opened that door. The first was seeing Tullisa -- as if he hadn’t expected her to be standing on her front porch at her home. The second was the way that his heart thrashed wildly against his ribs like it was fighting to hop out of his chest and get at her. The third and probably the most upsetting was seeing her with Reed. Jesse had never felt a stronger desire to punch someone in the face. He wasn’t even aware that the two of them were that close that shoemaker made house visits.

Or are they...dating?

“It’s none of your business, Jesse,” he’d muttered to himself.

Latching on to that mantra, he’d wished them the best of luck by raising his drink in salut.

Long minutes after the two of them left, the image of Tullisa walking off into the night while clinging to Reed’s upper arm continues to leave a bad taste in Jesse’s mouth. Not telling her that Reed had sat there doing nothing while she drowned wasn’t the worse decision that he’d ever made in his life. But the way he feels now about the thought of the two of them together, he’s certain that it comes in a close second. That had been an oversight that he now deeply regrets. If he had told her, she’d probably despise Reed as much as Lily does.

Jesse huffs and chugs down his drink while scowling in contemplation. Now he wishes that instead, he’d opted for something with a stronger kick than the fizz in a can of coke.

Tonight is the Ms. Homemaker’s pageant and most of the town will be in attendance since there’s not much else by way of entertainment in Fresh Water. He imagines that that must be where the two of them of are headed. Since he’s made it a point of duty to, as much as possible, avoid any and all things that reminded him even remotely of his wife, it would look really, really strange to the towns people if he attended now.

Unless he sought the help of reinforcements.

Jesse sets his can down while lamenting having Clive Kincaid as his best friend and partner in crime. Whatever plans they’d cooked up as boys had never worked out in the way it had played out in their minds but that had never been any kind of deterrent.

Not wanting to give himself a moment to talk himself out of it, he heads back inside for his cellphone.

“What’s up?” Clive answers after a few rings.

“Where are you?” Jesse asks.

“Why?” Clive responds with suspicion in his voice.

“Somethings come up,” Jesse states.

“Mhm,” Clive hums. “And by something, I take it you mean Tullisa and Reed walking arm in arm through town’s square. I gotta say she looks absolutely radiant and he’s strutting like a damned peacock.”

“How do you know that?” Jesse queries.

“How do I know what? That they’re walking together through the town square or that she looks radiant? Or that shoemaker is strutting like a peacock? How do you think I know? That’s a stupid question by the way. I’m looking right at them,” Clive informs him. “And you’re supposed to the brains of this outfit.”

Feeling a bit foolish, Jesse mumbles, “it’s a small town. Someone could have told you.”

“I’m guessing there’s a reason that you’re calling me about this? You want me to run interference?” Clive asks.

“What? No. Why would I want that? I just...it’s killing me not knowing, you know?” Jesse sighs. “How could she sleep with me last night and go out on a date with Reed of all people the following night? I don’t know what she could possibly see in that psychopath. I did tell you that he sat there watching while she drowned, right?”

“Jesse, you are my best friend so I’m going to level with you,” Clive says after taking a deep breath. “You’re being unreasonable. You’ve avoided the girl all day. You can’t be mad that she’s on a date with another guy. Just man up and ask her already.”

Jesse rolls his eyes.

“I’m not mad,” he denies. “Wait, are you taking shoemaker’s side?” he jokes.

“Never!” Clive growls. “The suspense is killing me, alright? And I’ve never been interested in another man’s sex life before. So, I’m just saying...ask her and put us both out of this misery. What’s the worst that could happen? She’ll probably slap you,” he muses.

“Yeah, you’re fluent in the language of things that would get someone slapped, aren’t you?” Jesse teases again. “And how do you propose I might pose such a question anyway?” Jesse asks with exasperation. “Oh, gee Tullisa. I slept with someone last night, I was wondering if it was you.”

“Hmm, that does sound problematic,” Clive says thoughtfully. Then he adds, “and probably ‘punch to the balls’ material rather than getting slapped. Yeah, definitely that,” in a gravely pensive tone.

“What?” Jesse chuckles.

They both fall silent from the visual imagery. Then as if having an epiphany, Jesse states, “maybe it wasn’t her, you know,” while he paces the floor back and forth. “Or maybe if it was her, she’s happy with the way things are. Or maybe we did come to some sort of agreement after or before? Like, she probably knows it was a one time thing,” he keeps spit-balling.

“Right,” Clive chuckles. “And maybe Santa will ride a unicorn into town during Easter. I’ve got a question for you.”

“Shoot,” Jesse tells him.

“How often have you seen Tullisa wear her hair like that?” he asks.

Jesse stares out the kitchen window at the front porch imagining her standing where she was tonight wearing the exact hairstyle his friend is asking about -- her wooly curls -- which he prefers by the way -- straightened out and flowing all the way down to the middle of her back.

“A handful of times,” he shrugs to the empty room while the image of how, as Clive had put it, radiant she looked tonight still sears to his retinas.

“Look, get down here,” he orders Jesse. “I think I have a plan.”

“Oh boy,” Jesse sighs.