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I closed the office door and looked at Marianne, who was standing in front of my desk still breathing hard from her sprint down the hall. She looked fantastic. She also looked terrible. She was the same beautiful woman, with the terrific figure that looked good in virtually any outfit. And she had clearly chosen one of her most flattering summer skirts, with a sleeveless top that showed off her arms and a bit of her cleavage.
On the other hand her face was lined and drawn. She was pale, and had big circles under her eyes. (I suppose I probably did too.) It was easy to imagine her, alone at home, wondering whether and when she would see me again, driving herself crazy with guilt and self-reproach. Good! I thought. That's what she should be doing!
"Marianne," I said calmly, "you shouldn't have come. I don't want to see you or talk to you right now."
"Tom, how long are you going to make me wait?" She was very anxious, even a little frantic. "I sit at home going over it and over it. I know you're angry, but I'm suffering too. Please, please won't you listen to me? Can't we try to move forward and get past this?"
"Well, no, Marianne, actually not yet. I don't know when I'll be ready, but I'm not ready now; and I have no idea if I will ever 'get past this', as you so gracefully put it. Please leave my office." Part of me almost couldn't bear to be so cold to her, but the rest of me was eager to hurt her. I felt I had more than enough reason to be a bastard!
Marianne sat down in a chair, a determined look on her face. "Tom, I am not leaving this office until you agree to talk to me. You'll have to call the police. And as they drag me out I'll tell everyone you work with how my husband has left me, won't speak to me, and won't even tell me where he's gone!" She began to sob, putting her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking.
I watched her silently for a moment, torn between the urge to comfort her and the desire for her to continue to be miserable. Finally I grabbed the tissue box and handed it gently to her.
"Marianne, let's make a compromise. It's the middle of my work-day. If you'll agree to leave now, I'll agree to come by the house tonight, and we can talk."
She looked up with a hopeful expression. "That's great, sweetheart. Why don't you come for dinner? I can make the..."
"No, Marianne. Not for dinner—this is not a date, and it's not a romantic evening at home together. I'm agreeing to give you a chance to say to me the things that are on your mind."
She looked as hurt as if I'd slapped her. She looked down at her lap, and said quietly, "All right. 8 o'clock?"
"Eight o'clock," I replied. "I'll see you then."
- COMMENTS
Anonymousabout 1 month agoShe refuses to leave his office? CALL SECURITY, or the police, to have her ejected. Add a restraining order. STUPID to meet with her alone as that leaves him open to allegations of threats and abuse not mention that she really has nothing to say he needs to hear. The woman is a pathological liar with sociopathic tendencies.
Anonymousabout 1 month agoAfter hearing her last phone call with Eddie it's obvious she's not sorry about what she did, just sorry she got caught and is now looking at divorce and her little delusional, self-serving world going up in flames with it.
TrainerOfBimbosabout 2 months agoI mean, this is an ordinary cheating wife tale so far and the cheating wife is one of the delusional kind that seems to REALLY want to have that affair, shows no remorse over it, but still wants to stay married for some reason. Like literally the worst type - the female moustache twirling villain of the LW subsection, only behind the Hitler-esque wife who demands her husband be a cuck. Basically what I'm saying is that it's not a complex narrative so far dude.
