In the end, I took her back, hoping for the best. Why? Because deep down, I really did love her. But I made her pay. I kept her on a tight lease, and I made her sign a postnupt. Irreconcilable differences and it was fifty fifty. Adultery, and the offending party left with the clothes on their back.
It killed her to sign that, she loved the house and all her toys, but she knew it was her only chance.
We were good for a couple more years. Then she started changing. It was so gradual I didn’t notice at first, it was little things, but as it accelerated I picked up on it. Got to noticing a superior little smirk she wore, especially if she thought I couldn’t see it.
I called the investigators. In two weeks they gave me their results. Sadly, I wasn’t surprised.
Peter Cummings, a little weasel she worked with. According to the report he was little more than a gigolo, seeking wealthy older women to subsidize his lifestyle. Handsome, I guess. I didn’t like his eyes. He took one look at her Mercedes convertible, the rings on her fingers, the perfect hair, and smelled money. He flattered her, she gave him little gifts. He must be good in the sack, as many times as they met.
I never saw them together, had them give the report to the lawyer I had chosen. she had broken the straw on the camels’ back.
I waited until I knew they were together, and sent he a text. “Emergency. Get back to me pdq. Call, no text.”
She called me back in three minutes, breathing hard.
“What’s the emergency?”
“It’s not really an emergency, more a courtesy call. I’m divorcing you. Have Peter follow you back, you can drop off your car and he can help you pack your clothes. Leave you jewelry on the vanity. along with your house and car keys.”
There was dead silence for a few seconds, until she recovered.
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the postnupt you signed. Remember? The paper you signed to prove how baseless my lack of faith in you was? I’m talking about the fact that you’ve been fucking that slimeball for at least three month. I’m talking about the fact that you’re in Room 334 of the Seasons, buck naked, except for that garter belt. What color is that, lavender, or purple? The resolution on the live feed is kind of murky sometimes. This is where I’m supposed to call you a slut, but I can’t, because you’re paying for it with those little gifts and loans. What’s a female version of a John, a Jill?”
I could see her looking around, wildly, trying to see the cameras.
“Stop looking, you’ll never be able find them. And tell Peter that the leather thong he had on looks absolutely ridiculous on a man his age and body shape. There’s a site on the web called Funny Farm that features stupid pictures, tell him I posted him about twenty minutes ago. I just made famous. He doesn’t have to thank me. I have to go now, the locksmith should be here any minute.”
“Wait! I’ll be right there. Please, I can explain the whole thing.”
Curiosity get the best of me, so I grabbed a glass of my favorite wine and waited.
…………………….
I heard her pull up, the rapid clatter of her heels on the walk, as she rushed in. She looked around wildly until she saw me in the den. I had lit the fireplace, I found a fire soothing.
She approached me slowly, I stood.
“Sit!” I commanded, pointing at the wingback I had placed across from the couch.
She drew a breath to complain about my tone, thought better of it, and sat.
“Wine?” I said, as I poured myself another.
She nodded, wisely remaining silent.
I poured a glass, handed it to her, sat back down.
“Give me a second to get comfortable, I love fairy tales. They tend to put me to sleep, though, so if I nod off, forgive me.”
She quivered, a sharp retort on her lips, before reason kicked in.
“Honey, you know I love you, right?”
She paused for my response, when I said nothing she continued.
“I’m sorry. Peter was… a mistake. But we’re done, I told him so when I left.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe you’ll do better with your next one.”
Her temper surfaced.
“Really, Shane! You’re not helping here.”
I laughed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was supposed to help. Help you what? Find another lover? There are a few guys around the office that might be interested, but most of them have pretty high standards. Maybe we could get your nude photos back from Peter, and I could show them the goods. I could do a testimonial, you’re pretty good when you want to be. Think that might work?”
She went pale, wondering how much I really knew. It was pretty dense, in my opinion, letting you lover make nude glamor shots of you.
“Please stop being mean to me.”
“Tell you what. I will if you just tell me why. Why, knowing what you could lose, would you be that stupid?”
“I don’t know why, exactly. Let me try to give you an example. You know that pair of Nike running shoes I’ve had for years? They’re past their prime, pretty much worn out. But they feel so good on my feet I can’t stand the thought of giving them up. That’s what my love for you is like. Solid, comfortable, I’ll never give you up.”
“Then you see a pair of red four inch heels in a shop window. You know they’re not practical, they’ll probably hurt your feet if you wear them too long, But you know you’ll look and feel sexy in them for a little while. Those shoes were Peter, fun for awhile, but I couldn’t wear them everyday. Do you understand, honey? It was just a fling, tottering on those heels for a little bit, knowing you could go home and slip into something that made you feel good. Do you understand?”
I stood.
“I think I do. Thank you for explaining it to me.” I walked to the hall closet and got my jacket.
She followed me.
“The you understand? You’re not throwing me out tonight?”
“No. My lawyer says I can’t make you leave until the papers are served, and even then I’m expected to give you a reasonable time to remove your things. He suggested two weeks. So you’re probably good for two and a half, maybe three weeks. Can’t sleep with me though. I’ll be a gentleman, and move into the spare bedroom, I know how much you enjoy that custom shower you had me install.”
Her mouth was hanging open. I continued.
“Tell you what, if you don’t make a fuss, I’ll help you find a nice apartment, make the deposits, turn everything on and pay the bills for three months. You make decent money, but you’ve never really had to pay bills, so I’ll help you make a budget. You probably won’t have anything left over for spa visits, expensive lunches, or shopping sprees. But if you brown bag a couple days a week you can afford a night out every two weeks or so. I’ll even find you a decent used car, but you’ll be responsible for the insurance. Take it or not, it’s up to you, but in any case, you’re gone.”
I reached in the hall closet and pulled out my favorite black felt fedora. It was vintage, straight out of the sixties. I had a great uncle who never left the house without one, and when he passed he left all his hats, thirty one, all in great condition and stored in the original box, to me. They fit me perfectly. I got them at a time when they were just coming back into style. I thought I looked good in them. So did a lot of ladies at my office. My darling wife said I looked silly in them. I set the angle just right and opened the door.
She was still trying to process what I’d said.
“We need to keep talking, try to work this out. It’s ten, where in the world are you going
I eased her hand off my arm.
“Shoe shopping. I think I’ll look at something young and athletic, or maybe I’ll go for the class of Italian leather. If I can afford it, maybe I’ll get both. Don’t wait up.”
I laughed as I drove away, knowing she would be hitting speed dial. It would ring, she should hear it clearly, lying there on the kitchen counter.
……………………
In the end, I got both in one package. She would leave me in the dust when we ran 5ks, and dance me into a quivering mass in her six inch heels. Two years older, looking ten years younger, she was smart, sexy, a plain spoken, non game playing
goddess. I worshipped the ground she walked on.
She bought me hats on my birthday and anniversaries. I have over fifty now.
Gwen tried to fight it, but when her lawyer looked at the prenupt, he urged her strongly to take my offer. I didn’t want her Mercedes, so I sold it, took half the money, and bought her a four year old small Chevy. She actually thanked me.
She married a couple years later, and as far as I know, we don’t travel in the same social circles anymore, they seem happy. I know she was in therapy for quite a while.