Conversations 07

So for almost five weeks, I observed her. I didn't see much that was interesting; apart from the fact the she was getting 'her girls' onside each weekend with more and more cutting remarks.

Then came the awards evening.

I looked over all her fellow workers, wondering if there was a sexual aspect to the firm, seething unseen beneath the surface. Logically, it was the right place to look. She went to work at eight in the morning, got home at six. She didn't travel and there were no girls' nights except on her birthday when she and a bunch of her girlfriends would head off to a show and a dinner at a fine restaurant. They would stay overnight in shared rooms, but by checking over her facebook page and looking at the time stamps on all the pictures stored in her phone, any lover would have had to rush in, fuck her and be cleaned up and gone within ten minutes. So it wasn't impossible, but it wasn't likely.

So where were the men that may have come into her life and inside her? At work -- where else?

For some reason -- perhaps because I was looking for a cheating asshole so intently, or maybe because of the stupid Zapata moustache that he wore that was fifty years out of date -- I picked up on him straight away. Glad handing and joking with people, he worked his way towards our table.

When he reached us, he greeted other people before saying hi to Margot. Their eyes locked and they gave each other a slight smile. Then he smiled at me, and one corner of his mouth crept up just slightly into a sneer.

As he looked at me, his right hand reached up to his left shoulder, flicking at something with two fingers. Two flicks. That was all, but it told me all I needed to know. He was letting me know that I was just a bug in his life, something that he could brush away with contempt.

I stood up, leaned over and punched the left side of his face as hard as I possibly could. I'm no fighter, and I don't have the arms of a superman, but it was a good punch.

He went down hard, and that's when the hysteria started, people getting all excited because something different had happened in their lives -- and it hadn't happened to them. So, they could enjoy it all guilt-free, which made them all run around making way too much noise.

Margot had thought she was getting away scot-free with having an affair, and that had turned on its head in exactly the wrong place at the wrong time. The upper echelons of her company was mostly female, following the growing trend; but despite their earnings, they still could only offer sex and exclusivity to the men in their lives -- when they had one. So having one cheater exposed so openly made them all afraid that their men might care to re-examine that half of what they offered to a partner. She wasn't going to be flavour of the month for a long time.

"Those stories you started sharing with your girl-buddies. You know, the ones where you get to lie about all the bad habits I have and how shit your life is while I'm still around. Those are what told me. The sheer disrespect you managed to come up with was actually quite mind-boggling. The absolute inventiveness of those lies makes me think you should become a fantasy author. Was that to get the girls on your side when you left me?"

She shook her head in denial, and then reluctantly nodded. "Yes," she whispered.

"So you were going to leave me," I stated. My life was a bowl of shit, and it was the only thing to eat in the kitchen.

"I wasn't sure," she said. She was still crying, but she was no coward, and looked me in the eye. "I was afraid."

I frowned. "Of me? Are you serious? You thought I would harm you?"

She shook her head vigorously. I felt a tear drop land on the back of my hand, and had to fight the urge to wipe it off at all costs. The cooling liquid felt like frozen betrayal.

"No! I never thought that. You would never hurt me. I was afraid of being alone."

"So you did the one thing that would ensure it. That doesn't make sense. Besides, you had Mr Seventies Moustache to keep you from being lonely. You were preparing yourself to transit from me to him in real comfort."

She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

"No, it wasn't like that. I knew he wasn't a keeper after the first time. It took a long time before I could commit to that first time, and afterwards ... well, the deed had been done. I had become a cheater, a slut. What I had always despised. So what did it matter if I kept doing it, even with someone I didn't even like much?

"I just wanted to get out -- out of being married. I was so tired of having to take three people into consideration whenever I wanted to do something. I could never do anything spontaneously anymore."

"You managed to spontaneously end our marriage," I said, carefully showing no expression. Who was this bitch, and what had she done with the gentle, loving girl I had married?

"Yay for me," she said sadly.

"Of course, what you could have done is say 'Johnny, you're a piss-poor husband and I don't want to be married to you any longer. I've been to a lawyer and in six months I'll be free to fuck Mexican Moustache whenever I want'. You could have done that. You didn't have to cheat on me!"

"I told you, I was afraid. I wanted to get out, but I was afraid of being alone."

"Well done, Margot. You don't want me and you don't want him. So you just signed up for immersion therapy. Now you can get over your fears by living them. It will be expensive, but worth it, I suppose. You earn more than me, and you know I'll look after Bethany way better than you anyway. So your spousal support and child payments won't be cheap, but hey, at least you get what you want."

She pressed her lips together and nodded. And so our marriage ended on that note, while the little voices in my head were shouting that they had to know more. More details. More about who and why and how, when and how many times, what positions and was his dick that much bigger? In the end the voices simply chorused that the slut had cheated! There should at least be more punishment!

I had an idea. It was weak, but all I could come up with on the spot. I'd never considered any punishment. I guess way down deep, where the sun doesn't shine, I'd never really thought I would turn out to be correct about her cheating. Like dying, it couldn't happen to me, surely! I was the hero of my story!

"One demand I will make. You go to our friends and you tell them that everything you said about me was bullshit, and you were lying to make yourself some sort of martyr when you moved out, okay?"

"I can do that," she sighed.

"You lied about me, and the sheer scale of the disrespect was eye-watering."

"Yes it was. I'm so sorry about that. I felt trapped in a situation I had caused and couldn't see a clear way out. You heard it all?"

I nodded grimly. "I won't be hearing the like again, that's for sure. I'm finished with those bitches."

She put her hand on mine for a moment.

"I am sorry about that. You didn't deserve it and I did make it all up. You were a good husband. A great husband. Just ... just not for me."

I sighed. Everything was happening so quickly. I didn't have any control at all. I was in a speeding car with no brakes and the steering wheel had come off in my hands. I had no experience of how to handle this. It's not every day that you go to a party married, and still be at that party when you're suddenly single with a little girl to care for on your own. Not many 'How-To' books cover that topic.

"You know those witches are going to slag you off every which way for years to come."

"I know. I guess I deserve it. You were right; I should have divorced you first."

"You thought of where you're going to go?" I asked.

"I was going to find somewhere soon," she said, sounding helpless. "But..."

Her hands waved loosely at the hubbub that was still going on inside. I guessed that she would be facing some very tough questions from senior management. I wondered if she'd still be employed. I guess it depended on what level position Monsieur Dead Caterpillar On Top Lip held.

"Jesus, Margot. How did you let it all get to this? What happened to the girl I married? She was smart, knew exactly what she wanted and how to get there, as well as being beautiful and kind, fiercely loyal and in love with me. What happened to her? Where did she go?"

She actually thought about that for a while.

"I guess she became a manager, and took self-importance to heart to replace the things she was throwing away."

"Margot, I love you. Loved you. But I just don't want to be in your company any more. I'm going to wait outside and see if the police turn up. If they take me in, please bail me out in the morning. You owe me that much."

"Okay, Johnny."

She did bail me out, and that was the last time I saw my wife. When I did see her, the divorce was final. She was no longer my wife. She was someone else's problem now.

I had had a wife. I had had a woman I loved with all my heart. A woman I had promised myself to, and looked forward to growing old with. She had discovered she didn't love me anymore and cheated so that she didn't have to face me until the very end. That's how I saw it. She was both courageous and a coward, tough and weak, all at the same time.

She did the crime and I paid for it. I faced loneliness and heartbreak, the gradual recovery from that and the more-than-hesitant search for someone to take her place, mistrusting all women from thereon out. It wasn't going to be easy. Especially with a demanding, three-year-old, golden-haired enchantress to take care of. But at least my genetic line held possibilities of a future. And I was still young... youngish... not too old.

Margot had damaged me badly. But I wasn't down and out for the count.

I thought about Henning and his Sexual Economics. I wondered whether being known as a cheating slut would lower her asking price overmuch. After all, any guy who considered her would have to wonder about her offer of good sex and exclusivity. As long as they knew about it.

And they would.

I'd very quietly and anonymously make sure of that.

Every fucking time! Until the price was right.