Beth and I were distant for the next few weeks. Not in a cool, uncaring way, but still giving each other more space than we had before. That was difficult at times; she couldn’t drive, and it was possible she’d never be cleared for it again. I wasn’t supposed to leave her alone for too long, either, just in case. I’d been working from home since she left the hospital, and what had been convenient before now felt almost stifling. When we spent time together, it felt warm but slightly impersonal, but we didn’t spend nearly as much time together as we had previously.

We couldn’t find a way to square what we’d shared with the realities of our situation: there was so much tangled up in who we’d been to each other that trying to become who we could be seemed like an impossible task. Could she really love me, or would it just be gratitude disguised as love? Could she believe that I loved her, or did she only see duty to my absent wife? How much of what we felt was real, and how much of it was two people who had no one else and maybe could never have anyone else again?

Our impasse was broken in the strangest way: laundry day.

“Have you seen my black t-shirt?”

Beth became very focused on her folding. “Which one?”

“The kind of ratty one. The one I wear when we go for walks sometimes.”

“Oh.” She paused. “I, uh. I’ve been using it as, um, as a nightshirt.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Her voice was quiet. “Because it smells like you.”

“Did– did it spark a memory or something?” That had happened before, a scent bringing up some little vignette from her past.

“No. I just…” She looked away. “It… I like…” Her eyes closed. “It makes me feel safe.”

“Oh.” I stepped close to her and patted her shoulder. “That– that’s okay, then. I’ve got plenty of other shirts. Or do you need a, um, a fresh one? I mean, one I’ve worn that’s–” I sighed and started again. “Do you need one that smells more like me, because you’ve been wearing that one?”

She looked up at me. “Would you? Would– would that be okay? Not–” She laughed nervously. “Not too weird?”

Beth looked so pretty like that, her expression vulnerable and earnest. My heart melted, and I know she could see it on my face. “No. It’s sweet; I’m glad I make you feel that way.”

“You do!” Her enthusiasm embarrassed her, and she looked away. “You do. I– Being here, with you. It feels– really feels like home.”

“I’ll be happy to give you one, but we’ve just done the laundry, so I can’t right now. They’re all clean. Can you hold out one more day?”

She laughed as she looked up at me. “I think I can manage.”

We finished the laundry and ate dinner. It felt intimate in a way it hadn’t been before. There was something there, a warmth both indefinable and very real. Nothing had really changed; the unassailable wall still separated us, the power imbalance that made any deeper relationship suspect. Everything had changed; the wall had been breached, just the tiniest bit, an admission of the imbalance serving to make it seem less important. I made her feel safe. She made me feel wanted. Maybe that was enough for now. 

Beth and I cleared the table and did the dishes together; it had been a nightly ritual before the recent distance. Lately, we’d been taking turns at the chore. But that night, we returned to it together, and as we worked, we were closer physically. Before, she’d tried to keep a little space between us as we worked, and I had tried to honor that. Now, we brushed against each other. She’d touch my arm, silently asking me to move to one side. I’d squeeze between her and the kitchen table, my body pressing lightly on hers; she didn’t pull away, and I think once she pushed back into me, but I couldn’t swear it.

We watched TV together for a little while, not quite snuggled up on the couch, but close enough to touch if we wanted. And we did. Just little, light touches and small intimacies: we held hands like teenagers on our first date; she patted my knee as she got up to get us drinks; she came back and leaned over as she handed mine to me, lingering just a little longer than she needed to. I’d catch her watching me out of the corner of my eye, and vice versa; we both smiled shyly and looked away. Things had changed, but neither of us was sure exactly how or how much, so we took refuge in coyness.

I yawned and stretched; it wasn’t the old standard where I tried to put my arm around her, just a general tiredness. “I think I need to head to bed. It’s been a long week.”

Her disappointment was evident; I think she was hoping that I had been going for the old yawn and reach. But Beth smiled as she said, “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.” She offered her hand to me, and I pulled her off the couch. After a nice, warm hug, she walked with me to the stairs, where we parted ways: her to our bedroom upstairs, me to the guest room downstairs.

I got ready for bed, brushing my teeth in the bathroom next door and laying out my clothes for the next day. I was about to change into sweats and a fresh t-shirt, my usual bedtime attire, when Beth knocked at my door. “John?”

I opened it, and she stood there in my tattered black t-shirt and a pair of comfortable panties. Her hair was done up in a loose braid to keep it from tangling in her sleep, and she’d washed her makeup off. She couldn’t have looked any sexier than she did right now; this unguarded, completely honest version of her was everything I wanted. I could feel my mouth getting dry, so I swallowed and said with a smile, “Hey, what’s up? Did you need something?”

Beth looked down for a moment, then up into my face. Uncertain. “I…” Resolved. “You. I need you.” She chuckled. “I was going to try to do this cute thing where I came to ask you for your shirt, and then when you gave me yours, I’d take mine off, and…” She shook her head. “I don’t want to play any more games. I want–”

I took her into my arms and kissed her with an intensity and hunger that I’d restrained for months. The part of me that said maybe we could never be equals again, that we’d always have that wall between us? I didn’t give a fuck. I was going to burst through that–no; we were going to burst through that–and smash our way through whatever obstacles we had to to find a happy ending for us. I was tired of Beth simultaneously being both my wife and not my wife, and it was time to tell Schrödinger to butt the fuck out of our lives.

She moaned into my mouth as I felt her tongue slip inside. Her hands roamed across my body as I crushed her to me, finally settling on my belt, frantically trying to unbuckle it. My mouth broke from hers in a gasp as she succeeded and slipped her hand into my trousers, not even bothering with the buttons and zipper, grasping at my dick. “Oh god, John, I’m–” She buried her face in my neck, nuzzling. “It’s– fuck, you’re so hard. I’m such a tease, I’m sorry, I–”

My voice growled, “No.” She looked up at me. “No guilt. No worrying. Just us.” 

A tiny nod, then a sly grin. “Just us.” She sank to her knees in front of me. 

“Just you... “ She undid my button and zipper and planted a kiss on my raging erection, our skin separated only by the thin fabric of my briefs. 

“And me…” Her eyes were on mine as she rocked back on her heels. Taking the hem of her “nightdress” in her hands, she slowly pulled it over her head, teasing me with the curves of her body. Scars adorned it now, the remnants of the wreck that had left us here, but her beauty remained flawless in my eyes. 

As the shirt passed up and over her round, large breasts, they were drawn up in the fabric, then dropped, bouncing tantalizingly. The pink nipples were hard and long, and I reached down to roll one between my fingers, pulling gently at it as she tossed the shirt aside. With a smile, she closed her eyes and purred. Then they were open again, a wildfire behind them.

“And this…” She pulled down my pants and briefs, then hissed with a sharp intake of breath. “This– this… god, this beautiful fucking dick.” She took me into her hand, wrapping her fingers around my shaft and slowly starting to stroke. With a chuckle, she said, “I don’t know how I could ever have forgotten this,” then leaned forward to take the head in her mouth.

It took everything I could not to cum as Beth started to suck. It had been so long, and even if I’d staved off the urges by myself, there was no substitute for the real thing. She released me from her mouth with an audible pop and started to stroke my cock with long, smooth strokes, bringing her other hand up to gently caress my sac. “It’s okay, John. Cum. Cum as soon as you want. You don’t need to hold back.” She kissed the head again. “I want you to cum for me. I need it. I need to make you feel good. Need to know that I can make you feel good, the way your wife should.”

My breath caught in my throat. “What?”

She leaned into me, rubbing my dick along her cheek as she looked up into my eyes. “Your wife, John. We’ll figure everything else out later, but I’m going to be your wife. I’ll be–” She kissed the shaft, eyes closing for just a moment in an expression of reverence. “I’ll be everything for you: your wife, your lover, your slut, your best friend. Everything.” Pulling away again, she moved both hands to my cock, stroking faster, rubbing precum along it as she did.

I moaned; she had told me not to hold back, but it felt so exquisite that I didn’t want it to end yet. This was… this was not Liz. Liz had been so vanilla; not frigid, exactly, at least not at the beginning of our marriage. Passionate in her own way, but definitely a “lady.” Beth was… Beth was… “Oh, fuck, Beth. Fuck, hon, I’m–” She took me into her mouth, as much as she could, then further, taking me deep into her throat. My hands tangled in her hair, and I groaned her name as I came harder than I had in years.  

I was shaking as she pulled my cock from her mouth. Beth kissed it lovingly, licking at the little bits of spend that dribbled from it. As I twitched, she laughed with delight. I gasped, “Where– where did you learn– ?”

Her brows knit together. “I… What do you mean? Isn’t… isn’t this what we–?” I could see her confidence begin to waver.

Pulling her to her feet, I growled. “No.” I kissed her fiercely, tasting faintly myself on her lips. “Better. So fucking good, Beth.” I kissed her again and felt her melt. My fingers tugged her panties loose, then off, nearly tearing them in my passion to see her naked. In the back of my head, a nagging concern remained, but I wasn’t going to fuck this up. We had a fresh chance at us, and I planned to grab hold of it with both hands.

My voice commanded, “Get on the bed. It’s your turn.” Any trepidation vanished from her face as she moved past me into the room, out of the doorway where she’d just given me the best blowjob I’d ever had. Beth grabbed my hand, pulling me along, before she stopped at the bed and gave me a teasing grin. She opened her mouth to speak, but I simply said. “Now.” She seemed both cowed and visibly aroused as I took charge.

Her taut, athletic ass taunted me as she crawled onto the bed. I could see her getting ready to turn around, to lie down. No. Something new for me meant something new for her. I seized her hips in my hands and shoved my face against her wet pussy, the thick, unkempt bush tickling at my chin. She gasped loudly, the unexpected sensation causing her to lose her balance. Her arms went out from under her, leaving her face down, ass up, and kneeling prone on the edge of the bed as my tongue lavished attention on her sweet quim.

Soft little mewling noises tried to escape her mouth but were lost in the mattress that her face pressed against. I pulled back for just a moment to suck at my thumb before returning to the fervent worship of my wife's sweet, sopping cunt. Beth groaned as my thumb slid between her cheeks and teased at her puckered starfish. Her head turned to one side to take in gasps of air, and then, quietly, to plead.

I pressed the thick digit into her, and she let out a long, shuddering moan. Her hands found her ass cheeks and pulled them apart, signaling her desire. I pressed it all the way in, and she pushed up and back against me. My tongue kept at her slick hole, but it wasn’t the focus anymore. No, her focus and mine were both on her other tight hole, the one Liz had only given to me on special occasions. The one that Beth wordlessly, needily begged me to stretch.

I obliged her. My left thumb, slicked with her copious juices, joined the right, and she groaned, “Yessss, John. Fuck– fucking– oh, god, fucking open me up!” Both thumbs worked together, pulling at that elastic ring, teasing it, stimulating the sensitive nerve endings. I felt the familiar flutters in her body, the harbinger of a truly massive orgasm.

My mouth left her for just a moment. “Cum for me, Beth. Show me how fucking sexy my wife is, you gorgeous fucking slut.”

The words were barely out of my mouth when she pressed her cunt back to it and shuddered, howling my name. “Jooohn! Fuck– fucking– ah John, fucking love you!” 

Her words were too much for me. Love. She loved me. This was my woman. This was my wife. She was going to see what that meant.

The orgasm was still making her body shake as I stood up and turned her over onto her back. “Say it again.”

Her eyes, unfocused and half opened, tried to lock onto mine. “F-fucking…” She shook her head. “Love you, John. So good. Such–” She shuddered, an aftershock passing through her. “Such a good man. Good hus–!” I entered her sweet, tight pussy, my hard cock ending her sentence in a sudden cry of pleasure.

“Beth.” She looked at me, pleading. “I love you, Beth.” A look of relief on her face, then her eyes rolled back into her head as I began to move in her. Her hands gripped the sheets, clawing and pulling them away from the mattress. “You’re going to be such a good wife to me, aren’t you?” Only a little, almost incoherent moan of assent passed her lips. Words failed us both as I began to make love to my wife for the first time.

I was gentle with her; I knew that soon, perhaps even tonight, I would take her roughly. Beth seemed to have a sexual need that Liz had never had, or at least had never shown to me. We would explore that together in time. But I wanted her to know that the John she’d grown comfortable with, the one she was trusting with her life and happiness, was the same one that was consummating our new marriage right now. That I could always be the safe harbor, the loving husband that she needed. She smiled up at me and put her hand on my cheek; I kissed it, and the look between us told me we both were finally where we’d longed to be.

But I’m only a man, and I had been alone for a long time, alone even with Beth there. I needed her with a passion I’d rarely felt. She saw the lust in my eyes, the lust that grew alongside my love for her, and crossed her legs around me. Her whispered urgings spurred me on. “Yes, John. Yes. Show me. Show me how much you love me.” Beth leaned up to kiss me just briefly before falling back onto the bed, her hands on my biceps, nails digging into them as I sped us to our shared climax.

I started to piston into her, my need crowding out the gentleness I’d wanted to show her. She hissed, “Yessss, fucking show me!” I felt her tighten around me, another orgasm approaching, and gave into my lust for her. There were no real words then, from either of us. Only grunts and gasps, and excited, animal pleadings for each other. 

Beth came first, but only by a second; she was still cumming as my seed finished flooding her and I slumped down, pinning her body to the mattress with my weight. We laid there, sweaty and gasping, until I heard her voice, soft with sadness. “S– so good. So good. How much–” A tiny sob. “– how much am I missing? How much did I lose?”

That question preyed on my mind for the next two months. Not constantly, of course. Most of the time, I focused on my not-exactly-renewal of my marriage with my wife, who was not exactly the woman that I’d married. As we got closer, as she was willing to show her preferences to someone who loved her and who she trusted, I found how many of her tastes had really changed. 

Sometimes that was something like food; I had taken the lead in the preparation of our meals before, but she was a better cook. Once she took over that role, we started seeing a lot more Thai and Italian in the mix and a lot less American and Tex Mex. Other times, it was movies and other pop culture. She threw herself into the things I loved and found that she loved them as well. The rom-coms and serious Oscar-bait dramas that Liz had liked left Beth cold.

Sexually, though? That was where I kept hearing alarm bells. My “new” wife proved passionate and varied in her tastes, a wild divergence from Liz; maybe the biggest. There was almost nothing Beth wasn’t down for, and she often took the lead. Her love burned like an inferno, intense and almost blindingly brilliant. But where there was fire, there was smoke: I could maybe chalk the enthusiasm up to Beth, exploring her tastes and trying to make new memories to replace the old. But the skills that went with that? No. 

Liz gave a decent blow job, when she was still giving them to me, but Beth could deepthroat like the second coming of Linda Lovelace. She had knowledge–skill-based knowledge–of various kinks that couldn’t be learned from just watching porn. I knew that she did watch, and we sometimes watched together, with her pausing the video and exclaiming, “That! Let’s do that!” But she had to have picked this stuff up somewhere else. Either she had learned these skills before we were married and then never trotted them out for me or…

I tried very hard to not think about that “or.” Thinking too much about that “or” would inevitably lead to heartbreak. But the thoughts wouldn’t go away, not entirely. With the demolished wall of our power imbalance in the past, a new one sprung up. It remained in the distance for the moment, but we were rushing towards it at breakneck speed, and eventually we’d slam straight into it.

When I wasn’t mulling over those worries, though, my wife and I were very content. We went out on dates, spent lazy Sundays on the couch and in bed, and tried to build our new lives together. We kept walking and then running; Beth ran slowly and tired quickly at first, but she rapidly gained in both speed and stamina. That last one had some really great knock-on effects on other aspects of our relationship, but what really mattered was that she had something that she really loved doing. This was a place where Liz and Beth converged, and her old muscle memory combined with her joy of the sport, meant she got very good, very fast.

Eventually, we started to look for new places to run: parks, jogging paths, nature trails, and the like. We had a few favorites, but it always felt like Beth was looking for something specific. Like there was a perfect path out there that she’d be happiest running. So we kept looking. And then one day, we found it.

We took off down the wooded path around a nearby lake, and Beth started to get a lead on me. This wasn’t that surprising; she would regularly lope ahead and then back to me. But this time, when she ran ahead and then back, my shoelace had come untied. I told her not to wait for me, and she took off again. Once I’d tied my laces again, I jogged to catch up, but she had gotten so much faster in the previous few months. After a few minutes trying to get her back in view, I heard a man’s voice cry out incredulously, “Liz?!” More words followed, with raised voices, but not loud enough for me to make out. 

My jog turned into a sprint, and I rounded a bend to find a young, athletic man with blonde hair and blue eyes reaching out for Beth. He looked confused, angry, and pained, all in one. It was a familiar look, a cousin to one I’d seen often recently on the face of Liz’s former co-workers and friends. My wife shrunk away from him. Was she afraid? Angry? I couldn’t tell from that angle. 

“Beth!” The man turned his gaze to me, and his expression cycled to sudden recognition, then settled into a new one: fear. I skidded to a stop next to Beth. She looked at him like she’d seen a ghost. Her face was ashen, and I thought she might throw up. “Beth, are you okay?” She nodded mutely, still staring at the man. A stranger to me, but someone I was becoming painfully certain she knew well.

He huffed, “Beth? What is he talking about, Liz?”

“Yes, Beth.” My voice was even, but certainly not friendly. This man was no friend to me. “And you are?” 

The stranger looked taken aback. He shifted his weight and tried to puff himself up, his body language clearly showing discomfort. “I– Alan. I’m a– Well, I thought I was a friend of Liz’s. We used to run out here a couple times a week, but she disappeared a year ago. We were texting about our next– our next run, and then she just ghosted me.” His eyes shifted around as he stumbled over certain words; probably lying, but whether in detail or by omission, I wasn’t sure.

“I’m her husband, and I’ve never heard of you.” He opened his mouth to speak, but I didn’t care to hear another lie. “Liz was in a car accident.” All the blood drained from his face. “She spent months in a coma, and most of her memories are gone.” I glanced over at Beth, but she wasn’t here with us right now; I’d seen the same expression when something triggered the retrieval of a memory, but she’d never gotten this lost in one before. “She’s Beth now. She wanted– she needed a clean break from who she was before and who she is now.”

Then. Then I saw the look on Alan’s face, the one I had dreaded. The one that indicated a deep pain at being loved and then forgotten. The one they warned me about at the hospital, the one I was supposed to hide from her. The one that only I should have had to hide from her. “I–” He tried to conceal his hurt, too, but he couldn’t. I knew. He knew that I knew. And Beth did, too. 

He cleared his throat. “I’m– I’m glad you’re back up and about Li– Beth. I’m sorry that– sorry about your– your accident. I hope I see you back–” My glare told him that if he finished that sentence, there would be consequences that at least one of us wasn’t going to be able to live with. “I, uh, I need to get going. See you around.”

Our run was over. Beth watched Alan leave, sorrow written on her face. I nodded to myself, then turned on my heel and started walking back towards the car. Beth must have realized I’d gone and caught up a minute later. We didn’t speak on the way back, but we did stop once; she ran off into the bushes just off the path and emptied her stomach onto the ground.

The ride home was silent except for her sobs. When we got inside, I motioned for Beth to sit at the table before making her some tea. Neither of us wanted to do this. Both of us knew we had to. I set the tea down in front of her and waited for her to speak, but eventually I got tired of waiting.

“Liz cheated on me.” It wasn’t a question. There was no need to ask, just establish facts. She nodded. “Do you have any idea how long?”

“...A while.” She took a sip. “A long while. I don’t… I don’t know how long exactly, but I know enough to know that he… he looked different sometimes. Different times of the year, different clothing. A beard at one point.”

“How long have you… Is his face one of the ones you’ve always remembered?” She was very quiet. Very still. “Please, just… just tell me.” She nodded. “The first one, right? The one you expected to see when I walked through the door, when your husband walked through the door after you woke up. That’s why you were surprised and disappointed, not just because you didn’t remember my face, but because– because you expected to see someone else. Someone you loved.”

Beth looked down and sobbed, her entire body wracked with sorrow. I continued, “It’s why you looked through all of those albums and school pictures. You were trying to find the person you were supposed to be with. It’s why you were so disappointed and angry when you didn’t find them there. And then later when you didn’t find them at your old work or the coffee shop or gym, why you seemed so… so…” I couldn’t say it. Desire and suffering, hope and pain, all dueling in my head.

She choked out, “Re– relieved. It meant I hadn’t– Liz hadn’t–” She shook her head. “He’s so young. I’d hoped that maybe– maybe it was a college boyfriend. I didn’t–” She coughed and took another sip of tea, then looked me square in the eyes. “Until I saw him today and remembered… more, I didn’t… The memories were out of time. Impressions. A face, a place I didn’t recognize, a–” Beth paused, not wanting to say something that would hurt. “Nothing from our life. I hoped that since I hadn’t seen him anywhere, that they were just…” She laughed ruefully. “That they were like that stupid fast food jingle that played through my head for a week after I woke up. Just a random set of memories that didn’t really matter.” 

Beth looked away, her voice straining as she continued. “But then I saw him, and I knew that they did. Not a lot came back when I saw him, but enough. Enough to put some context to everything.”

“Did Liz love him?”

Her lips tightened as she nodded, eyes still not on me. “Not… not in the same way that she loved you, at least not when you were first married. Not as much. He was… exciting. And she was angry at you. He was going to be…” Fresh tears trickled down her cheeks. “He was going to be enough.”

“Enough?”

She closed her eyes. “Enough for when she left you.”

I couldn’t find any surprise when I looked inside myself. Of course she was cheating. Everything fit together. Liz had given up on us before I had. Her cheating wasn’t the reason our marriage was going to end. Our marriage was going to end, so she was getting her ducks in a row. Making sure she had a fallback. Not surprising, in retrospect, but still painful.

I had to ask. “Do… Do you love him, Beth?”

She almost dove across the table to grab my hands. “No! No! No, god no! I love you! I only love you! I know how Liz felt, but I don’t… It’s like reading a story about a character, or watching a movie. I know how she felt, even kind of understand it, but her feelings aren’t mine.”

“What about the sex, then? You–” I sighed. “You’re nothing like Liz in bed.”

Beth shook her head. “No. That’s not– I am like Liz in bed. It’s just that she lied to you about what she was like. What she wanted. She–” Her breathing became shallow, almost panicked. “That stupid fucking cunt. She needed to be– it had to be her goddamned show. She needed to dole out her affection like– like you were a puppet. A fucking pet. She couldn’t control you, and she hated that you were getting to see more of life, travel more, a ‘better’ career, and she–” 

Her face was a mask of rage. “You may have wanted to end your marriage, but knowing what I know now? I fucking hate her.” Beth’s tears started to fall again. “Hate– hate me. She’s part of me. And I hate her, so where does that leave me? I wish I’d never remembered anything at all. Wish my world was just–” She whimpered, “Just one where I woke up and you were there, and that’s all it was. No memories but the ones I build with you.”

I squeezed her hand. “Beth, I… honey, I still love you. She’s– you aren’t Liz. She’s, like you said, she’s like a character in a book. She’s–”
My wife exploded, “She could come back, John! What if she’s like a cancer in my brain? What if it metastasizes, takes me over, destroys Beth? What if I wake up tomorrow and there’s enough of her back that I hate you?” She had started to shake with fear. “What if she takes– what if you don’t get to have Beth anymore? How can I do that to you? I can’t stop it from happening if–” The panic in her voice broke my heart.

“Beth. Beth!” She stopped and looked at me. “You’ll still remember you, Beth. Still remember you and me. You won’t– you won’t hate me like that. I know.”

She wailed a single word, “How!?”

Now it was my turn to look away. “Because I do remember. I do know what it was like to… I hated her. Things were so bad near the end. I stayed longer than I should have, knew we couldn’t pull out of the dive and I– and I…” I looked back at her. “I was going to cheat, too.”

Her hand slackened on mine. “What?”

“The last trip. The one where… where I was on the plane home and knew I needed to end things with Liz. It wasn’t just because of how bad things were. I had…” I took a deep breath to calm myself. “There was a woman from another office. We’d worked together on a couple of projects. She’d– I’d used her as a sounding board. About work first, but then about my home life. She wasn’t part of my org. Lived in another state, but we saw each other often enough that–” 

I shook my head. The details didn’t matter. “The last night there, we were in an elevator together, and we– we were… If the doors hadn’t opened, if one of our co-workers hadn’t come in then, it would have continued in one of our rooms. The next day, when we were getting ready to leave, I told her the next time I saw her that I’d be free. And I headed home, knowing that it was only by chance that I’d stayed faithful.

“I remember all of it, the good and the bad. I remember Liz changing her mind about us having kids, how she refused to until she was ‘established’ in her career. Which was just shorthand for her having the upper hand between us, I realize now. How she pushed me further and further away as she ‘lost’ in some fucking competition that only existed in her mind. How–” I sighed. “How obvious, looking back, that she was having an affair, and how she was probably laughing about getting one over on me.” Beth became very still suddenly, confirming my suspicion.

“But I remember you, too. I remember how much it hurt when you didn’t recognize me. When you chose a new name, how bittersweet that was for me. The way we inched closer to each other over time, becoming less strangers and more friends, and then eventually lovers. When…” 

I kissed her hand. “When you told me that you wore my shirt to sleep in because it made you feel safe. When you came to my bed and took that shirt off and told me you were my wife.” My face was wet. 

“Everything since, even this– this painful new, old knowledge. It’s all part of us. I hated Liz, and I love you. That’s how I know. Because I have all the memories, wanted and unwanted, and I’m still here desperately hoping that– that– that you and I will grow old together. That, if you want, we’ll be able to watch our children and grandchildren from the comfort of our worn out old recliners. That we–”

Beth leaned across the table, silencing me with a kiss. It was sweet but passionate, a promise of the future, a silent vow between us that there would be an us. She stood and pulled me along with her to our bedroom.

Once there, my wife undressed me, kissing the exposed skin as she removed each piece of clothing. She led me to the bed once I was naked and bade me lay on it. When she disrobed, it wasn’t some overtly sexy striptease, just my wife displaying her body, scars and all. It felt all the more intimate for its lack of artifice. Her eyes stayed on mine as she climbed onto the bed and straddled me.

Beth’s hands pressed flat on my chest as she kissed me. “You’re right: Liz is our past. John and Beth are our future. And if she– if she shows up, we’ll face her together. You–” She kissed me again, softly. Her hand rested over my heart, and she brought my hand to rest over hers “This– us. We’re strong enough to face our past. Together.” With a chuckle, she purred, “But that’s not what I want right now.”

She took me in her hands and placed the head at her entrance. “I want to build a new life with you.” She slid down, slowly, a low, soft groan escaping her lips as she accommodated my full length. Her hand slid mine from her heart down to her belly. Beth smiled beatifically down at me, nothing but love on her face. “I want to make a new life with you. I want to feel it grow inside me.” She began to move and her eyes fluttered closed as she savored the sensation. “Mmmm, you feel so good, John. So perfect.”

I traced along her side, and she giggled, ticklish. The giggle turned to a gasp as my hand moved to her breast and began massaging it. I breathed, “I love you, Beth,” as my wife gave me the pleasure only she could. My other hand reached down between us, the thumb teasing her clit. 

She moaned her love for me and began to move faster, gliding up and down my shaft. “Oh- ah! Love– oh god– John– Love you!” A tweak of her nipple drew out a little cry and she grabbed the offending hand, whining as her orgasm drew nearer. Bringing it to her lips, she kissed it and held it tightly, a lifeline between us.

My other hand shifted to her hip. The beginnings of a frustrated little whimper started in her throat, but it was quickly replaced by a loud cry of pleasure as I used my new leverage to hold her steady so that I could thrust upwards. Beth released my other hand and began to tug at her own nipples, throwing her head back at the sensations coursing through her. I took the opportunity to grab both hips and start enthusiastically fucking my wife’s slick, tight pussy.

“Cu– cumming! John! Please! P-please! Need you need n– need– !” Her words turned towards nonsense as she lost control. They were a strange, primal song that possessed me, that drove me as I drove into her. As she started to wail, my voice joined hers, even as my body slammed upwards into her and held there, cock pulsing, sowing the new life she desperately wanted into her fertile womb. We laid together after that for a while, but my wife was far from done with me that night, and I was far from done with her. We finally slept in the early morning, exhausted from our couplings.

The world moved along, and we with it. Little memories would crop up from time to time, mostly about mundane things. Occasionally they were about Liz’s infidelity, which drove Beth into a funk until I could take her into my arms and remind her how little I cared about what Liz had done in her body. My “first wife” was like the monster in a slasher movie, and we were never sure if she’d rise up, trying to destroy our lives. 

But ten years passed, the same amount of time Liz and I had been married, and she never did. Instead, our household became complete, with the birth first of Ellen and then Duncan. Dr. Taggart was the godmother to our eldest, of course. Those years were a time of scraped knees and sleepless nights, adjustments on top of adjustments. It was one of the happiest of our lives.

Twenty years passed, and our little ones fled the nest. We cried when we came home the day after we dropped Duncan off at college. That weekend, we reacquainted ourselves with every surface of our home, embracing our empty nest years and each other with gusto. We found new hobbies and friends. We traveled, reconnected with ourselves, and fell more in love than ever.

Thirty years passed, and Liz became barely a shade; no new memories had sparked in almost a decade, and we’d long since stopped worrying about her influence. But she gave us one last gift; I’d like to think it was an apology of sorts. 

We were at Ellen’s wedding. Our daughter was beautiful, standing with the man I’d just given her to. The priest said the words, “You may kiss the bride,” and Beth stiffened. A broad smile spread across her face, and she leaned her head on my shoulder. Our wedding. She remembered our wedding.

Beth and I spent the rest of our lives together, into the years of grandchildren and retirement and all the rest. We never wavered in our loyalty or our love. In the end, I was sorry that Liz and I hadn’t made it work, couldn’t figure out how to escape the spiral of competition and jealousy. I was sorry for what Beth suffered through, the pain and the loss of her memories. But I was forever grateful that, at the end of her struggles, we each found the love of our life. That we created the memories that mattered together.