65

She kept up her patter as she showed her the house, three bedrooms, nice big lot, small patio.
“Excuse me for just a moment while we confer, will you?” she said to the realtor, before grabbing me into the living room.
“Look honey, a fireplace.”
She wasn’t going to be distracted. She backed me against the mantle. “What the fuck is going on here?”
“Really, Beck, isn’t it obvious? We’re house hunting. I don’t want to start married life in an apartment. Besides, when we have kids we’re gonna need the space.”
I don’t think she heard much past married life, before she launched into my arms. I scraped the back of my head on the stone mantle, and didn’t care at all.
Then she cried. Then she giggled. Then she got serious. “Where’s my ring?”
“I haven’t got it yet. I thought we’d pick it out together.”
The realtor came looking for us, and heard the last. She laughed.
“What did I tell you, dear. Clueless. I swear, if we didn’t guide them, the species would disappear. Are you up to looking at a few more houses?”
Up for it? She nearly dragged both of us out. I got to sit in the back while they talked location, school districts, shopping access. I stopped listening after five minutes.
We looked at four more, before we went back to our car. She wanted to look at that one once more. When we got to the living room, she looked at the mantle, smiled, and said “this one.”
It took a week to do the paperwork. Our business was booming. We had hired another associate, and Allen was training a new salesman.
With the hefty down payment I was able to make, we were able to move in less than a month. Of course, we didn’t bring any of our old furniture. I let her go until she got to the patio and the garage.
“Mine,” I said, defiantly. She laughed and agreed.
I spent a little money and installed an outdoor kitchen and living area. Even had a clay oven built. I loved it. We ended up cooking outside ten months out of the year on a regular basis, and sporadically the other two.
Cindy was a little jealous, and before we knew it, we had new neighbors a block over. Made it easier to share rides to work. I swear they wore a groove in the sidewalk going back and forth.
Things went great for three years. Cindy couldn’t have children, so they went through the long, frustrating process of adoption. The patience paid off when they got a set of twin girls, eighteen months old. We held a little party to celebrate that turned into a tearfest for the girls while we learned what it was like to watch two active toddlers.
“Your life is over,” I laughingly told Allan.
“No it’s not,” he said, through obvious tears, “It’s just beginning.”
I was really quiet as we walked home. So was Becky. I stopped at the end of our driveway.
“When?” I asked.
“In four months. That way I won’t have to carry him or her through the heat of the summer.”
The neighbors must have thought we were crazy, on our knees in the drive, hugging and crying.
…
Right after that conversation the economy started tanking. Six months later Becky’s company suddenly declared bankruptcy. She didn’t get severance pay, she didn’t get her vacation pay, nothing. She was pretty distraught.
“Calm down honey. A lot of people are going under, including a few of our biggest competitors. We’re getting a lot of interest from their old clients. I may have to work a little harder, but we’ll be fine. And as good as you were at your job, someone will snap you up.”
The economy got worse, and she never found another job in her field. No one wanted to pay her what she was worth despite her experience when they could get an MBA straight out of school for half as much.
She fretted, she brooded. She and Cindy joined a gym close enough they could walk to, pushing the kids in the strollers. This kept her going for a few months. Never really out of shape, she was like a rock after a couple of months.
She started volunteering for some big causes, hoping she could network a job out of it. I didn’t like it because she would be gone almost every other weekend, to some charity event or another, but I kept quiet, thinking it was doing her some good.
One Friday she came in at two a. m., waking me from a dead sleep with a first class blowjob. As soon as I was erect and awake, she mounted me, riding me hard. When she finally collapsed, gasping for breath, I asked what brought it on.
“I got a job! I’m the new assistant event
coordinator for the Sloan Group. Tonight was my tryout, and they liked what they saw. They represent four major charities. It’s not as much as I was making, but close enough to start.”
She was on an emotional high, and I cuddled her, making the right noises.
…
It had been almost a year and she still wasn’t pregnant. We went to the doctor.
He looked over the tests he’d ordered.
“You’re both fine. Everything is in good working order. There’s no reason why you won’t be pregnant soon. My guess, it’s the stress she’s been under because of the economy. Animal birth rates go down if the food supply is threatened or there is an unusually large number of predators in their range. It’s the same with women. Birth rates are low in stressful environments, like war zones, for instance. Go home. Practice a lot. It’ll happen.”
But it didn’t happen. She came to me the next day during lunch. “Honey, I need you to do something for me.”
“Sure baby. What do you need?”
She fidgeted for a bit.
“I want you to let me go back on birth control, for another year. Let me get comfortable in my new job, and build up enough time I won’t lose it over a pregnancy. Just a year honey, I promise.”
I was actually a little relieved. The economy was still going downhill and I didn’t see an upswing for quite a while, so I agreed.
We were actually doing a lot more work, picking up the slack from failed companies. It was tougher than ever. If we couldn’t do it for what they wanted to pay, there was another ad agency just down the street desperate for business.
Part of her job was attending the events, to make sure they went smoothly. I went when I could, but more and more she went alone. She told me not to worry, since she was working anyway.
As the husband of one of the key players and a business owner, I was sort of expected to contribute to as many of the charities as they represented as possible.
We picked out the two we thought most worthwhile, and committed to them. We even sent someone occasionally to represent the company at the events. Allan and Cindy went a few times, but he was as overworked as I was, so he backed off.
The economy was finally starting to turn around. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Beck had been at her job for a year, and had gotten a small promotion and raise. We started talking about a family again.
I talked Aida and her husband into representing the company at some of the events. It kept our name in focus and allowed Allan and I to work more. Aida had developed nicely, to the point that she was being stalked by competitors. We had a long talk about it. I told if she got a truly good offer I wouldn’t hold it against her if she took it. She assured me none had made an attractive enough offer to even consider moving.
“Yet,” I laughed.
I noticed she seemed a little down, and seemed to be avoiding me unless it was absolutely necessary. I figured she had finally gotten that good offer. I called her in for a little chat.
…
“You haven’t been yourself lately, Aida. If I’ve noticed, so has every one else. Something you want to talk about?”
Aida was an attractive black woman. Tall, striking, usually smiling. If you got past her looks you discovered she had a steel trap for a mind.
She looked down, smoothing her dress, one of her stress signs.
“I thought a lot about what I’m about to tell you. My husband has been pushing me to talk to you, so here it is. It might not matter. You might already know. If not, please don’t be angry with us.”
I figured this was it, she was giving me notice.
She pulled out her tablet, fiddled with it for a bit, and handed it to me.
A series of photographs. Of Becky, and a man I didn’t recognize. There were shots of them laughing, holding hands, kissing. One of them dancing, with his hands on her ass. He had her dress eased up until the bottoms of her cheeks were showing. One in a semi dark room, in a fierce liplock.
“These were taken over the last three events we’ve been to. I don’t think she’s realized who I am, or that I work for you. The last time she knew I was there, she spoke to me, and was extremely professional. Maybe you knew, but I didn’t want to be the one to bring it to your attention if you didn’t. Please don’t fire me.”
I was in shock. This had to be some kind of gag. I’d go home and Becky would laugh, all our friends would jump out, and she’d say ‘Gotcha!’ and explain it all away.
But I knew, I KNEW, that it was exactly like it looked. I sat for a minute, before telling a nervous Aida her job was quite safe, and asked if she would transfer the images to my computer and burn me a hard copy. She stood.
“You didn’t know, did you? I’m so sorry. If you need anything, ask.”
She came round and hugged me, the first physical contact we’d had in all the time we’d work together.
“Again, I’m sorry.”
“I am to,” I said, “please don’t say anything about this.”
She promised and fled the office, scared of the look on my face.
Despite being an idea man, I was stumped. I did what I always did when I approached any problem, I did research. All I had now were pictures from an amateur. I wanted hard evidence.