THE BRIDGE TO CARACAS (Volume 1 of The King Trilogy)

CHAPTER 22

Life at International Fuel Brokers had become quite pleasant for Mike. He had earned the respect and gratitude of Owen Christian and the board of directors, who had responded to his success with extremely generous salary increases and perks. Christian had even indicated to Mike that he was the heir-apparent to the president's seat.

His personal life, in grave contrast, had grown miserable. Mike continued to enjoy every precious minute of the time he spent with his daughter, Kerri, but the quality of his time with Barbara had steadily deteriorated. Their sex-life was virtually non-existent. Barbara had told him she was no longer interested in sex and probably never would be again. Mike had asked her on numerous occasions to seek therapy, but she responded to his urgings with stony denial.

He finally resolved to confront Barbara, hoping that the shock of confrontation, or the thought of losing her marriage, might compel her to action. "How would you like to go out to dinner tonight? Just the two of us," he asked, telephoning her from his office.

"Where?" Barbara asked. No enthusiasm.

"The Ivy Roadhouse."

"Is there some special occasion?"

"No special occasion. I just want to talk."

"Aren't we talking now?"

Mike exhaled heavily. "Would you like to go out for dinner or not?"

"I'll have to get a baby-sitter," Barbara warned.

That night, Mike and Barbara drove to the Ivy Roadhouse, which was an elegant country restaurant near their home. They maintained a less-than companionable silence until they were seated and the waiter had arrived to take their drink orders. Once the waiter had left the table, Mike leaned forward. "Barb, we've got to talk. I'm not happy in this marriage, and I don't think you are, either. I suggest we do something about it."

Barbara gave him a vapid stare. Then her face contorted into a mask of indignation and anger. "You brought me all the way to this restaurant to tell me that?"

"Barbara, forget the Goddamned theatrics and just talk to me."

"What would you suggest we do?"

"Get a divorce," Mike replied, his eyes fixed on Barbara's, searching for the slightest response.

Barbara's face reddened. "Is there someone else? Is that why you're unhappy?"

Mike tightened his lips and shook his head. "It's obvious you don't understand how I feel about this situation. Something's missing from our relationship. It's a critical ingredient and, as far as I'm concerned, the marriage can't survive without it."

"You're talking about sex again, aren't you? Is that all you can think about?"

"When we first met, we were fantastic together. We couldn't get enough of each other. But that's changed, Barbara. I don't know why you don't want to anymore...I get lonely.... And I don't want to be the one who initiates every time. Just once in a while I like to be on the receiving end of desire. I can't—" He snapped his mouth closed while the waiter placed their drinks on the table.

"Would you like to order now?" the waiter asked.

"No. We'll finish our drinks first," Mike said. When the waiter left, Mike turned again to face Barbara. "I can't go on like this, Barbara. Sex is an important part of my life."

"Why didn't you tell me you felt this way?" Barbara asked, her eyes remaining fixed on her drink.

"That's ridiculous. I've lost count of the number of times I've spoken to you about the deficiency in our sex life. You've actually admitted you don't like sex, but I don't understand. You liked it well enough at the beginning."

"I wasn't referring to sex," she retorted, staring at him with anger in her eyes. "Why haven't you told me that you want a divorce?"

"Until now, I thought there was an alternative."

"Well if that's what you want, you can have it, but you're going to pay for it, and you can forget about seeing your daughter." Barbara's angry blue eyes showed no tears, and no regret.

The acidity of her tone and the speed of her response revealed a preparedness that he had not expected.

"Divorce isn't what I want, Barb. What I want, and what I've wanted from the beginning, is for you and I to be happy in our marriage. It appears that isn't what you want, and if that's the case, then divorce is the only viable alternative."

Barbara threw her napkin to the table and snatched her purse from the floor. She stood, causing her chair to make an awful squeal against the hardwood floor. "I want to go home, now!" she shouted.

Mike set down cash for the two unfinished drinks and followed Barbara to the car. He was relieved to see tears in her eyes, and he confronted her for the second time. "Why have you never told me the whole story about yourself?"

Barbara glared at him, her eyes glazed with indignation. "What the hell do you mean?"

"You haven't told me the whole story about your former relationship. Every time I bring it up, you've deliberately lost eye contact with me. You did it again tonight. There's something you're not telling me, something important!"

Barbara turned to face the window to her right. "There's nothing!" she insisted.

"Please don't insult my intelligence. I think you owe me that much."

She slumped in her seat and covered her face with her hands. Finally, she wiped her eyes and spoke, barely loud enough for Mike to hear. "I've made a terrible mistake."

"You never stopped loving him, did you?"

She turned to face him, her tears flowing fast. "No."

It was like a hole had been punched in his heart. Barbara had never loved him. She had only wanted to replace the child she had given up for adoption.

Even if there was a hope of saving the marriage, Mike realized that he no longer wanted it.