Megan From The Men’s Group

By David Meuel

 

Edmond Hunter had been a mainstay of the men’s group that met every Tuesday evening in the aging but very homey community room at Saint Martin’s Church in Sunnyvale. And, when he died in a cycling accident one May afternoon, the group’s other six members reached out to Edmond’s widow, Megan, offering to help with anything she might need.

Megan—a gentle woman with delicate features and a wide, warm smile—was visibly moved and told the members that whatever they decided to do would be appreciated.

At their first meeting after Edmond’s memorial, the members discussed ways they could help Megan out. Asking their wives to fix meals was one idea. But one member—a tall, lean electrical engineer named Len—had heard that Megan’s female friends had already organized a “food committee.”

Then another member—an outgoing entrepreneur named Kyle—spoke. “More than anything, Megan will need people to talk to—people who knew Edmond well,” he said.

The others agreed, and Len quickly came up with an idea. “Why don’t we invite Megan to our meetings for a while?” he said. “Not permanently,” he added, “but just for a few months. It would help her deal with her loss. As a matter of fact, it would help us all.”

This idea led to a spirited discussion. Kyle and another member—a biology teacher named Hal—quickly agreed with Len. This would be a good way they could all help. Megan could still have a connection with six of Edmond’s close friends. And, by seeing Megan regularly, the members could maintain at least part of their connection with Edmond. But the other three members—Neil, Pete, and Randy—were not as enthusiastic. Megan’s presence would change the subjects they discussed and how they discussed them, said Neil, a therapist the other members respected for his insights. Pete—a tanned, fit building contractor who only worked sporadically—agreed. And Randy—a very orderly CPA—added that, with Megan at the meetings, there would be a different dynamic: the men might not be as open and forthright as they had always been. Maybe so, countered Kyle, but their dear friend’s widow needed their support, and they owed it to him to be there for her.

For a full hour, the group weighed the pros and cons. Finally, Neil, Pete, and Randy agreed to the proposal.

Megan was touched when she heard the group’s offer. “You all meant so much to Edmond,” she said as her voice began to break just a bit. “Just being there with you guys would be an honor. Thank you. Thank you all so much.” And for several months she came every week.

During the first weeks, the discussions often focused on Megan and her transition. She couldn’t keep her mind on work, she said, and it was hard learning how to manage the family finances, a job Edmond had done so well for so long. But she always felt “present” and “more grounded” when she was with the group. She was, she often added, deeply indebted to them. The men were happy to hear that. And Neil, Pete, and Randy even regretted that they had raised those initial concerns about including Megan in the group.

“It’s turning out better than I thought,” Pete said after Megan went home one Tuesday evening.

Neil agreed. “She’s fitting in well,” he said. “And it’s nice having a woman at the meetings. You get a different perspective.”

“She really is nice,” Kyle said. “I can see why Edmond was so devoted to her.”

“And attractive too,” said Randy, bringing up a topic none of the other men had mentioned.

“She really is,” Neil said, blushing just a bit. “But Edmond was her world. I’m sure it’s going to be a while before she’s ready to move on. But, when she’s ready, I’m sure she’ll have plenty of opportunities.”

The others agreed.

•

            After a few more weeks the discussions returned mostly to the male members and their issues. But now there was more tension in the air—more than had ever existed. Kyle criticized Len for keeping his feelings too deeply buried. Len found Kyle’s criticisms “stupid” and “baseless.” Neil and Pete were getting on each other’s nerves too, arguing bitterly about everything from politics to retirement strategies. And Randy and Hal spent much of their energy just trying to keep the peace.

When things became tense, Megan was usually silent. Once, when asked to comment, she said that these were issues the men needed to work out among themselves, that she was just a guest, and that it wouldn’t be appropriate for her to take sides. At that, the men stopped their outbursts and tried to be more courteous. But soon the conversations became tense again.

After several of these difficult meetings, Kyle emailed the men, asking for a special Monday night meeting at 7:30 at Saint Martin’s. Megan, he emphasized, was not to know about it.

At 7:30, all six had arrived. And, while they chatted a little, all were unusually subdued.

As was their custom, they all sat in a circle facing each other.

“Thanks for coming, guys,” Kyle said. Usually, he had that hearty look about him, but that evening his face was a sickly white. “I—I’ll get right to the point,” he continued with uncharacteristic clumsiness, as if he were pushing each word out of his mouth one at a time. “I feel that I’ve let you all down.”

The others sat silently and waited for him to continue.

“I’ve let Suzanne down too—my children—everyone,” he stumbled on. He took a deep breath. “I’ve been seeing Megan. We’ve been having a thing. Suzanne found out about it yesterday. A friend of hers had seen Megan and me together and told Suzanne. It’s been horrible. I feel like a fraud. Now Suzanne and the kids are staying at her parents, and she spent most of today shopping around for divorce lawyers.”

The others remained silent.

After a long pause, Neil spoke up. “How long has this been going on—you and Megan?” he said, his voice slow and anxious.

“For the last month,” said Kyle. “Why?”

“About a month ago,” said Neil, “Megan stopped seeing me. She said that she didn’t want to be a home-wrecker—that we should stop before anyone got hurt. I sensed it wasn’t the whole story. But she insisted that it was.”

Another long silence.

Then Pete, who had also turned pale, spoke. “You’re not going to believe this,” he said. “But Megan and I have been meeting at the Quality Inn every Wednesday afternoon for the last six weeks. Helen would kill me if she ever found out.”

For an interminable minute or two, all the men sat hushed and motionless in an eerie tableau, some staring ahead blankly, others tilting their heads down in shame. The only sounds were the hums of automobiles on the street outside.

“Does anyone else have anything to add?” Kyle said at last.

Len blushed deep red and weakly raised his hand. “Megan and I got together once,” he said in a voice just above a whisper. “I got nervous. The equipment didn’t work. It was just that one time.”

Another silence.

Then Randy stood up, grabbed a metal folding chair, and threw it fiercely against the far wall of the room. The others looked startled but said nothing. Then he came back to the circle and looked straight into Hal’s eyes. “Well, what about you?” he demanded.

Hal shook his head. “Don’t look at me,” he said. “I never had sex with her. She never tried anything with me.”

“So, it’s everyone but us?”

“I guess so,” said Hal. Then a grim smile appeared on his face. “It hurts my feelings,” he went on. “She went after everyone except you and me. It’s like being the last two picked for touch football.”

At this, the other four men burst into a nervous, high-pitched laughter. Tears started streaming down Len and Pete’s faces. Hal found the laughter unexpected and smiled. Randy just stared at the others in disbelief.

After a couple of minutes, the laughter finally ran its course.

“So, what do we do now?” said Kyle.

“I don’t know,” said Randy. “Personally, this makes me sick. I don’t even know if I want to be a part of this group anymore. Is this how we help out Edmond’s widow? Is this how we honor his memory?”

“You don’t get it,” said Kyle. “She came on so strong—so needy-like. I said no the first couple of times. But she made it so hard to resist.”

Len, Pete, and Neil all nodded.

“Sometimes, people go crazy after a loss like that,” Neil added. “Maybe that was just how Megan went crazy.”

“But did the rest of you have to go crazy too?” said Randy. “It would have been nice if we could have handled this better—if we could have handled this as a group.”

“Yes, that would have been nice,” said Neil.

“You’ve all been lying to the group,” said Randy. “I feel the same way Suzanne feels right now—I feel betrayed.”

“So what do we do now?” Kyle said again.

“For starters,” said Hal, “let’s not meet tomorrow. We all need some time to decide what we want to do—decide whether we even want to keep the group together.”

Everyone agreed.

“Then I’ll tell Megan that we won’t be having our regular meeting tomorrow,” said Kyle.

Then Pete raised his hand. “I guess I should cancel my Wednesday reservation,” he said. “You know, the one at the Quality Inn.”

The others stared at him.

“And for the time being,” said Kyle, “let’s not tell anyone—even our wives—about tonight. At this point, I’m pretty much screwed, but there’s no reason why the rest of you should be too.”

“What about Megan?” said Hal. “When do we tell her? How do we tell her?”

“I don’t know,” said Kyle. “Let’s hold off there for the time being. We all need time to think.”

Everyone agreed to this too.

The men talked awkwardly for few more minutes. Then the meeting ended.

•

            Afterwards, Randy and Hal went to a favorite spot of theirs, an old dark-wood bar in Mountain View called The Wagon Wheel. As they usually did, they bought a pitcher of the house draft and took it to a table. Randy filled their glasses. And, as Hal wiped away the lip-foam from his first sip, he looked at Randy and said: “What if?”

“What if what?” Randy said.

“What if Megan had come on to you—really strong, like she did with the other guys? What would you have done?”

“I hope I’d say no.”

“But would you have said no?”

Randy frowned. “I don’t know,” he said. “She’s so pretty.”

“And in need of comfort.”

“Yes—that too.” Randy took a sip. “How about you?”

“I don’t know either,” Hal said. Then he smiled, “It’s hard to say no to a woman like that. I don’t know if I could, especially if she’s so persistent. I could probably see myself having sex with her and then hating myself afterwards.”

“Like Kyle does.”

“Like the others do too. It’s all pretty sad, isn’t it?”

“It’s all very sad,” said Randy. “For all of us. We’ve all been in the group for five years—some of us six. Now, we’re talking about not meeting anymore. Think of all that went up in smoke tonight.”

“Yea,” said Hal.

They both clinked glasses and took another sip of beer.

After they finished just one glass apiece, the two decided to call it a night and go home. Their pitcher remained on the table beside the empty glasses. It was still about two-thirds full.

 

 

 

 

 

David Meuel has published more than 130 poems and short fiction pieces in more than 75 different magazines, e-zines, and literary reviews. He is also the author of two award-winning books of poems, Islands in the Sky and Realms of Gold, both available through Amazon.com resellers. He lives in San Jose, California, where he also works as a freelance marketing writer and communications consultant for Silicon Valley companies.