Brid-”“Give me just a second, bud,” he interrupted while still focused on his phone. Blake shuffled around in his seat; awaiting the path this conversation would take next. This was all peculiar to him; a stalker and open marriages. Part of him wanted to get up and walk out immediately, but the other had a morbid curiosity as to what would follow.“Mr. Bridge…Kellam. What does all of this even really mean? Are you proposing that I have sex with your wife as part of some little game you guys play?” Blake sat forward and rested his forearms on the table. His fists couldn’t decide what position they wanted to keep; constantly clenching and unclenching.“Jesus, you make it sound so bad. Look, kid, my wife and I aren’t exactly re-inventing the wheel here. This kind of thing is way more common than you think. Plus, I’d make it worth your while,” he said while turning his phone’s face towards Blake. Before the young man was the online banking page for First Bank. To be more precise, Kellam. His mother wept. His sisters hugged me over and over. I stood and tearfully described his unique wonderfulness as a loving husband.When the burial was over I thanked them all for attending, cried a few private tears of my own, and invited, as was expected, everyone back to our recently renovated house for a drink and something to nibble.They came. All of them. Relatives and friends, and hangers-on. People I loved, and some I'd never met. They all wanted to spend time telling me how Neville was delightful/reliable/handsome/clever/funny/intellectual ... I nodded a lot. I was running on automatic, and anyway all the things they said were true.Eventually they'd all downed as much of our booze as they could manage, eaten every snack in the place, and started to leave. Some made plans to catch up with me while they were still in town. Others had planes or trains to catch. Eventually, all but one of them had gone.Then, as I said, I collapsed on the sofa, a wine in my hand, and turned to.
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