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"Well if somebody did, it wasn't me," I said. "All I got was my teeth kicked. Melinda told me that she wants a divorce."

Joyce looked at me and saw through my façade of ambiguity. "That bitch!" she said. "I guess you never saw this coming did you?" I shook my head. Joyce stood up and pushed me down into the chair. She rubbed my shoulders and tried to be sympathetic.

"It you need anything, just let me know," she said.

"For now, I won't ask you to lie. Could you just tell her the truth? Tell her that I'm not accepting her calls," I said.

Joyce looked at me and nodded. I could tell she wanted to ask more. Everyone always wants the dirt. But she could tell I didn't want to talk about it. She was kind enough and smart enough not to push.

Just before lunch, I grabbed the file folder that I'd put copies of all of my financial documents into. I left the office and headed for the appointment with the attorney.

Her office wasn't what I was expecting. I guess I thought it would be a large office building and that either the entirety or a large portion of it would be owned or leased by a large law firm. I was wrong on both counts. It was a small, single story office that was part of a strip mall. Next to her office on one side was a small medical clinic. The other side was occupied by a Frederick's of Hollywood franchise. Further down the strip there was a liquor store.

All of the businesses seemed to be thriving. The incongruity of the types of businesses seemed bizarre at first until I gave it further thought. Once I did, I realized that there was actually one business missing. If your marriage was in trouble, you could come here and buy your wife some lingerie. You could plan out a nice romantic evening and buy things from Frederick's to try to put some spice back into it.

If that just doesn't work you have the handy divorce lawyer. You find out that she's cheated on you, so you go to the clinic for STD screening and then to the liquor store to drown your sorrows. The mall offered quick, easy, convenient one-stop shopping. The only thing missing was a therapist or marriage counselor. Maybe a detective agency and a gun shop would be handy too.

I opened the door and went in. A cute older lady asked me who I was and the purpose of my visit.

"Melvin Conrad, to see Ann Wilson," I said. "I have a noon appointment."

She smiled and told me to have a seat and Ms. Wilson would be with me shortly. The woman had to be at least 60 but she was still a stunner. Almost before my butt hit the seat, Ann Wilson opened the door to her office and gestured for me to come in.

Ann Wilson is a larger woman with longish inky black hair and piercing blue eyes. She looked at me with the same gaze that all predators use when examining possible prey.

"Tell me a story," she said. The statement surprised me. I looked at her in puzzlement. She just arched one eyebrow higher and continued to look at me.

"Okay," I said. "Once upon a time there were three little pigs..."

"Very funny," she smirked. "Tell me about your divorce and the reasons for it Mr. Conrad. Time is money. I don't want to waste either yours or mine, but it's very unlikely that I'll be taking your case."

My shoulders slumped and I started telling her the long drawn out tale of my marriage to Melinda. When I got to the part about the dinner the previous evening she hissed and sucked in a big gulp of air.

"Wait!" she said sharply. "She did what?"

"She arranged for us to have dinner at her favorite restaurant and told me that she wanted a divorce because she found someone new. And she was already having sex with him," I said.

Ms. Wilson stood up. "Have you ever cheated on her?" she asked and she leaned over and looked at me closely.

"Never, Ma'am," I said.

"Have you ever hit her?" she asked. "Okay forget about that, you just don't seem like the type. "What did you do when she told you this?"

"Uhm, there isn't really anything I could do Ma'am. I left money on the table for her dinner, if she decided to eat. Then I went home. I packed my clothes and checked into a hotel," I said. Ms. Wilson shook her head.

"That wasn't the smartest thing to do. You leaving will probably give her temporary residence in the home until we reach a settlement. Is the home in your name, her name, or both?" she asked writing things down quickly on a legal pad.

"My name," I said. "Melinda doesn't work outside of our home."

"Then why the fuck did you leave?" She asked shaking her head. "You're as bad as the women, Jeezus." She threw the pad across the room and looked at me. For a while, I got that same feeling that I got when my third grade teacher was trying to get me to remember my times tables. That, "Shit, how many times do we have to go over this?" feeling. It was as if Ms. Wilson expected me to know all of the ins and outs of divorce laws and procedures.

I stood up and her head whipped around on her neck to take me in that fierce gaze again. "Where are you going?" she snapped.

"Well, I figured you didn't want my case because I've done everything wrong," I said.

All at once her gaze softened and she pushed a button on her desk. She spoke into the intercom and told her assistant, who was also her Aunt, to bring in the cart.

The gorgeous older woman came into the office with a cart full of coffee and fresh donuts.

Ms. Wilson pored herself a cup and grabbed two donuts. I got a cup of black coffee myself.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Mr. Conrad," she said. "That's why I'm so pissed. Normally, I don't represent men in divorce cases because usually they're in the wrong. The typical scenario involves a man who has cheated on his wife multiple times, usually with some trophy type woman. When his wife has had all she can stand, he tries to rape her in the divorce and leave her penniless and homeless."

"I've developed a reputation for getting my clients the better end of the deal in divorces, so now I have a lot of men trying to use me to get better deals when I don't feel they deserve it. Why the fuck should they get to have their cake and eat it too? If they cheat and destroy a marriage, they should have to pay for it."

"You've worked your whole life supporting this woman. You gave her a good life and home judging from your address and the fact that your daughter is in college. From looking at your financials, I can see that you've been a good provider. And lastly, you're not a very good actor, Mr. Conrad. You're trying to act as if this is all well and fine, but I can see that this has devastated you and you're just trying to keep moving. Shit, you're too shocked to even be angry yet. And the hurt hasn't even set in yet."

"The things that scare me the most are the fact that you're not even trying to fight anything she wants. She says she wants a divorce. You didn't even make her file, you did it because she asked for it. She's the one who's cheating, but you go home and move out of the house that you've worked for, instead of telling her to leave. She should have had to move in with her lover or her parents if they're still living."

"Mr. Conrad, I am definitely taking your case. Someone has to protect you, if only to keep you from giving her everything you have."

We spent the rest of the afternoon going over my financial records and the value of our assets to determine the best way for me to proceed. There were several times when Ms. Wilson just looked at me as if I was stupid and asked me questions like, "So you want to just give her the house free and clear, while you pay the mortgage. In other words, you want to pay for her to live there with the guy she's fucking?"

"Well, I guess not," I said. But inside me, the impact of her words was beginning to sink in.

"Why are you giving her nearly all of your savings?" she asked.

"Well, she'll need money to live on," I said. "She doesn't have a job. It's only money. I can always make more."

I thought Ms. Wilson was going to slap me. "She doesn't have a job because for most of her life she sat on her ass while you supported her. She has a college degree, so she can get a job. She's the one who wanted a change in her life. Let's give her one. I think we should go for a 60/40 split in your favor. We'll pay her alimony for 6 months and no longer. All other assets should be split 50/50 including the house and you get to keep your 401K," she said.

I left the office feeling shell shocked. I had no idea that things were going to be this rough. Ms. Wilson gave me the name of a good real estate company to list the house with. She thought that it was best to put the house on the market. Usually the woman was allowed to keep the house until any children had come of age. Our daughter was already living on campus, so there was no need for any delay in selling. And since I didn't need Melinda's approval to sell the house, the faster I put it on the market, the faster this whole thing could be over.

I drove back to my office and saw Melinda's car in the parking lot when I pulled up. I saw her get out of her car, so I drove away. I still wasn't ready to speak to her.

* * * * * *

When I woke up this morning, I felt like shit about the way things had gone with Mel and I. I decided that maybe I should just talk to Mel about it. I needed to let him know that my intention wasn't to hurt him. I just needed to move on with my life. I'd tried calling him, but he didn't answer his cell. I tried calling his office and Joyce told me at first that he wasn't in yet. I realized that I'd been stupid. Mel never went to the office early. He always used to tell me that every moment away from me was torture, so sitting in his office when he could be with me was pointless.

I called back after nine a.m. and asked Joyce if he'd arrived. She finally told me he was there, but he wasn't accepting calls from me. I had trouble processing that.

"Is he really busy, Joyce?" I asked her.

"No busier than usual," she said. "In fact I think he's not really that busy at all."

"Then may I speak to him?" I asked. In all of the years that Joyce has worked for Mel, I've never heard her act or speak in a manner that was less than courteous. I've seen her speak to difficult clients and keep her cool long after anyone else would have hung up on them.

"God Damn it, Melinda," she yelled. "He doesn't want to fucking talk to you. What did you expect? You rip his heart out and then you want to talk. If you ask me, he's lucky to be rid of you. Don't call here anymore." Then she hung up the phone.

I didn't really even consider that Mel might not be happy. He seemed fine last night. But really this was a good thing for both of us. The fact that he didn't want to speak to me, hurt me. I was about to call Joyce back and remind her that she worked for Mel, not vice versa and it would be up to him to tell me whether or not I could call him, when my phone chirped. I had another call waiting. I answered the phone and heard my mother's voice.

"Melinda, what the hell is going on with you guys?" she asked.

"What do you mean, Mom?" I asked her.

"Your father says that you and Mel are going through something," she said. "Do I need to come over there and straighten things out?"

"There's nothing to straighten out, Mother," I said. "Melissa is grown now and I just feel like I need to move on. I'm young enough to do some other things with my life. I'm bored, I need to spread my wings and fly."

"Melinda, what you really mean is spread your legs and fuck, don't you?" she asked. I was shocked. I've never heard my mother use language like that before.

"Melinda, do you remember my sister, your Aunt Kathy?" she asked. I just grunted so she knew that I'd heard her.

"When Kathy got to be about your age, she started spreading her legs for the milk man. Her husband eventually found out about it and beat the milkman to a bloody pulp. He made Kathy sleep in the basement on a cot for a year."

"Mom, what does that have to do with me?" I asked.

"Tell Mel that your father and I will buy him a cot for you," she said.

"Mom, it's not like that," I said. "Mel and I will both be happier."

"That man loves you," she snapped. "You're not going to find anyone else who's going to love you that much. Your father said that his voice sounded like he was barely hanging on. How could you do that to someone who's taken care of you for most of your life?"

"Mom, he'll get over it," I said. Then she started muttering under her breath about stupid kids and hung up on me.

I was beginning to see that everyone was trying to paint me as the bad guy; just because I wanted to get out of a bad situation. What was I supposed to do? Sacrifice my happiness on the Altar of Saint Mel. To hell with that idea, I was moving on.

It was Friday. I was going to go out with Greg that evening. I was excited, because for the first time, I wouldn't have to hide. No more sneaking around and having sex in cars or quickies whenever we could get together. But I wanted to straighten this thing out with Mel, so I decided to go and see him.

The guards in the building wouldn't let me in. I smelled Joyce's hands in that. Just as I got back into my car, Mel's Mustang pulled into the lot. I got out of my car and waved at him. He backed out of the lot and drove away. I was so accustomed to him being happy to see me at any time that I just sat there in shock.

I drove home to get ready for my date. I showered and used my favorite bath scents and perfumes. I wanted to drive Greg crazy. I put on a dress that I loved. It was a very rich blue that really looked good against my long brown hair and blue eyes. I'd had the dress for a long time but it still looked good on me. Maybe not as good as when I was thirty, but I had never gotten any complaints.

I spent a lot of time doing my hair and makeup. I wanted Greg to be really proud to have me on his arm. I had to let people know that there was a reason that he was with me instead of some hot 25 year old.

I'd just gotten done doing my hair when the door slammed. A lot of things went through my mind. I thought that maybe Mel had come back and was angry. I got up from my vanity and went to see who it was.

"Mother, have you lost your fucking mind?" shrieked my daughter Melissa. She ran up the stairs and looked at me like I was crazy. "Where is my father?"

From the expression on her face, you'd have thought that I'd killed him. "I...I...I don't know, Lissa," I stuttered.

We ended up having a big argument about what I was doing. Why the hell was everyone assuming that I was making a mistake?

"Don't you talk to me like that, young lady," I yelled at her. I needed to get control of the situation back. "I'm your mother and you need to treat me with some respect. If you can't do that, then maybe you shouldn't come into my home or expect me to continue to pay for your education."

"Mother, if you'd act like you were worthy of respect I'd give it to you. Right now I think your hormones are out of balance and you're ruining your life. If I didn't love you and want the best for you, I'd just let you piss into the wind. On the other hand, this is my home too and Daddy paid for it, not you. Daddy also pays for my schooling, not you."

Just as I got ready to reply to what she'd said, the doorbell rang. She went to the door and opened it. She stared at Greg as if he'd just dropped in from Mars.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"I'm Greg, baby," he said.

"Greg Baby who?" she asked looking at him strangely. "What kind of name is Greg Baby?"

"Mother, you're kidding right?" she asked. "I have to get you to a doctor."

"Come in Greg," I said looking past her.

"And who is this lovely creature?" asked Greg, he hadn't taken his eyes off of Melissa since he arrived.

"Greg Martin, meet my daughter, Melissa Conrad," I said.

Greg held out his hand to Melissa.

"Don't bother, Fonzie," she snapped. "You won't be around for very long. Mother, can I speak with you upstairs for a moment?" She grabbed my arm and dragged me up the stairs.

"You cannot be serious," she said. "What is he 25?"

"He's 29," I said.

"And what does he do for a living?" she asked. I didn't actually know, so I shrugged my shoulders.

"Melissa, we can talk about all of this later," I said. "When I get home from my date, we'll sit down and talk about all of it."

"Mother, I won't be here," she said. "I'm not going to stay in this house until either you come to your senses or Daddy decides to move back in." Then she left slamming the door on her way out.

I went back downstairs determined not to let her mess up my evening. "Where are we going Greg?" I asked.

* * * * * *

Greg's car wouldn't start. He'd had to get it jump started twice on his way over to my house, so I drove us. We ended up at a grungy club that he wanted to go to. He danced with me once and danced with a lot of other people too, including a couple of times when he danced with two other male friends. He didn't introduce me to any of his friends. My dress was ruined when someone spilled beer all over it. By the time we left, I had no money left.

I drove us back home. Greg came in and we spent the rest of the evening having sex. It was different from the first few times. It wasn't as good, even though he did all of the same things. I found out that Greg wasn't into performing oral sex. I put it down as one of the things I was going to have to teach him.

He fucked me three times, each time he got me to the point where I almost came and then collapsed on the bed. I thought that maybe he was trying to tease me into one monster orgasm after keeping me on the edge. I waited for his batteries to recharge, thinking that this last time would be the one. There was no last time, Greg was snoring.

I woke up early the next morning and found Greg moving his things into my house. "We're going to be really happy, Babe," he gushed.

I was a little bit pissed because he hadn't asked my permission to move in, but when I thought about it, I realized that all couples go through those little arguments and disagreements.

I told him about my parents' barbecue and he told me he wasn't going. That was the beginning of our first argument. I couldn't believe how badly the day was going. Maybe it was because I was comparing him to Mel. That was unfair to both of them.

Just when I thought that things couldn't get any worse, Mel showed up. I heard the rumble of his car and knew it was him. I ran down the stairs to try and head off a confrontation. I saw the two of them standing on the porch talking. Then Mel turned and left before I could speak to him. I ran down the driveway calling him but he didn't even slow down.

"What did he want?" I asked.

"He's a good guy," said Greg. "And his car is so fucking cool. He just said to treat you right and he hoped that we'd be happy. He came by to get some more of his stuff. He said he came now because he thought we'd already be at your parents' house. He said something about us having to move out soon."

"What?" I asked. "What are you talking about?"

"Why are you yelling at me?" he asked. He walked off in a huff and when I went inside the house, he had his feet on my white linen couch and was drinking a beer.

I just looked at him.

"I'll go to your parents' house with you if you let me have a party," he said.

He explained to me that he wanted to invite a few of his friends over to introduce them to me and let them see how happy we were going to be. I was so glad that he'd offered to go to my parent's barbecue, that I said yes immediately.

I was also glad because we seemed to be leaning to compromise and make decisions as equals. It was a great step in our relationship.

I won't go into the details very much, but my parents and most of my family and friends hated Greg. My dad ended up throwing him out of the house. Well, my dad just told him to get out. It was my brother in law who grabbed him by the collar and frog marched him to the door. I told my dad that he was wrong for making Greg leave. He told me that I could go with him.