I May Be Dumb . . .

Finally, the waiting period ended and my attorney gave me my copy of the final decree. Allen and I celebrated that weekend with a wild night of sex that almost left me in a coma. It was erotic and beautiful, and I knew it was only the start of our lives together. Finally, I had won the ultimate prize; life couldn't get much better.

But frustrations and delays kept intervening to keep our plans from moving forward. First Allen had a spell where he had to travel extensively, so he had no opportunity to get with his attorney to begin his divorce. Then it was his wife's birthday, and he didn't want to be a complete jerk by telling her that week. Then it was his daughter's birthday, and he certainly didn't want to spoil that for her.

I became more and more frustrated as the weeks dragged by. Not only had Allen not broken the news to his wife, but it seemed that he and I were finding fewer opportunities to spend time together. Something always seemed to be getting in the way.

I had been stewing about the situation for some time. Finally, one day at work I decided to confront him. No more delays; it was time for us to take the final step.

We had a trip to Washington upcoming, and that gave me an excuse to call Allen's secretary to set up a time to discuss it with him. When I went to his office, however, I was shocked to find Shana Ferguson with him. Shana was one of our new interns. She was a red-head, shorter than me but top-heavy and with a lot of padding in the seat. Like most of the people who worked with us, she was extremely bright, and she had a bubbly personality. Some people liked that, but I found her annoying.

Allen waved me in and continued his discussion with Shana. When he paused, I seized the opportunity to bring up our trip to Washington. Before I could get far, Allen interrupted to say, "You're not going, Julia. I've decided to take Shana instead. I think the experience will be good for her development."

I must have stood there silently for a minute, staring at him and trying to comprehend what he was saying. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Shana with a smile on her face. Allen looked up at me with a bland expression, and when I still couldn't think of anything else to say, he continued, "Well, if there's nothing else, Julia, please close the door on your way out."

Stunned, I turned and walked to the door, tears filling my eyes. I'm not naive: I understood what had just happened. After I closed the door, I just stood there in a daze. All I could do was repeat to myself over and over, "He just dumped me!" Behind the door, I heard Shana give a low, sexy giggle.

I looked up to see Allen's secretary watching, and I thought I saw a smirk cross her face. "Oh my God," I thought, "she knows! Everyone in the place must know!"

I ran back to my office, closed my door and began to curse both him and myself. "What a fool I've been! He never had any intention of marrying me -- he was just using me." I suddenly recalled his boasting about his amoral philosophy. "He warned me what he was like -- I just didn't listen." I laid my head on my desk and wept.

I'm not sure how long I stayed like that, but eventually I dried my eyes, blew my nose and began to get myself back together. No matter what, I knew I couldn't stand to see Allen again -- or Shana, for that matter. The idea of having to confront him day in and day out was unbearable. For that matter, the idea of everyone else in the office snickering behind my back was just as bad.

There was only one thing to do. Turning to my computer, I typed out a brief letter of resignation. After I had printed and signed it, I put it in an envelope, walked back to Allen's secretary and handed it to her. Then I left the office and drove home.

It was fortunate that the boys were with Mark that week so I had some time by myself to consider my next steps. I was due another paycheck, maybe even a little severance pay if Allen was feeling generous, but it wouldn't be long before I'd have to start tapping my savings to make ends meet. And since I'd been accustomed to spending most of what I took home each month, my savings wouldn't last all that long. I needed to find another job -- fast!

But where could I find work? Normally, I'd go looking for opportunities with similar firms, or maybe try to go back to the Public Service Commission. But anything in my area of experience would almost inevitably bring me back in contact with Allen, and I never wanted to see that son of a bitch again. It would just be too humiliating for me to bear.

At that moment, I happened to glance at my wall calendar and noticed I had a lunch date with Ginna Anderson coming up.

"Ginna is a realtor, and she does very well for herself," I thought. "That's something I could do easily, and I bet she could help me find an agency." Of course I'd have to take a course to get my realtor's license, but I've always done well in school; this would be a snap.

"I bet I could make as much money as I did as a consultant," I thought, "and I'd never have to come in contact with Allen again!"

Over the next few months, I learned some hard truths about selling real estate as a profession. Getting my real estate license was every bit as easy as I had expected. But actually selling real estate was far harder than I had ever imagined. The hours were long, unpredictable and inconvenient, especially for a single mother. On more than one occasion I had to drag Josh and Jake along to a showing or an open house. They're good kids, but even the best youngsters get bored quickly.

More importantly, I learned that no matter how smart you are or how hard you work, you can't make any money in real estate when the housing market is in decline. And I had unwittingly picked the start of a significant downturn in the Atlanta-area housing market to launch my new career.

The net result was I was barely scraping by. At one point I even had to endure the humiliation of having to tell Mark I couldn't afford to pay my share of the kids' pre-school tuition. He just looked at me and then said, "I'll cover it." I could tell he thought I was a failure, but what else could I do?

That incident got me to thinking about Mark. I had always tried to keep up with what he was doing through the boys. At first, I was looking for any signs that Mark might be trying to cause trouble for Allen and me. But Josh and Jake told me their dad almost never asked about me. I guess he just wanted to get on with his life at that point.

After Allen dumped me, I found myself curious about Mark's social life. I found out that he didn't date much on the weeks when he had the boys. There had been a few occasions when he'd arranged a play date for kids who had single moms, and once or twice he invited women over to have dinner with the three of them. Otherwise, he had virtually no social life when the boys were living with him.

To find out more about his life when Josh and Jake were with me, I made a few casual inquiries to mutual friends. They told me Mark was dating, but not seriously. There was no one woman he saw exclusively, as best they knew.

Harris Willard, our marriage counselor, had told me he had tried to encourage Mark to sow some wild oats, but it didn't seem to me like Mark was taking that advice. His reluctance intrigued me. "He's a good-looking guy with a good job and plenty of free time, at least every other week," I thought. "If he isn't cutting a swath through all those horny single women I see whenever I stop by a bar, maybe it's because he still hasn't gotten over me."

That was an interesting thought. Mark still lived in the house we had bought in Alpharetta because we had agreed not to sell it until the boys were older. He made a good income, more than I did even when I was a consultant. (That had always irritated me, since I was so much more intelligent.) We had had a very comfortable life, and if we got back together, it would certainly be a lot cheaper to live in one house than two. It would probably also be better for the boys if we reunited, I thought.

And if I were honest with myself about Mark, I had to admit he had always treated me well. "He's a really nice, honest guy," I thought, "unlike some men I've encountered."

I mulled the pros and cons for quite a while, uncertain what to do. Some days, I felt that going back to Mark would be a defeat, an admission that I'd blown it. At other times, I thought it would be something of a coup if I could win him back after all we'd been through.

My bank account was getting dangerously low, and I decided I had procrastinated long enough. I needed to do something now!

From time to time, Mark and I had to talk about matters concerning the boys: events at school, vacations, doctor visits and the like. So he wasn't particularly surprised to get a call from me. That was good: I didn't want to put him on his guard in any way. So when I said, "We need to talk about the boys," I knew he would see me. I could always get to him through them.

We made arrangements to get together one evening when I had the kids. I sent them upstairs to watch a favorite video so they'd be out of the way. Then I made my preparations.

I didn't want to alert Mark that anything unusual was going on by dressing too sexy. At the same time, I wanted to remind him of what he'd been missing. So I put on a sundress with spaghetti straps and a ribbon around my waist. My legs have always been one of my best features, so I shortened the hem a little to showcase them.

I checked myself in the mirror one more time. "If I were a man, I'd do me," I decided.

Finally, I opened a bottle of white wine I'd had chilling in the refrigerator. It had worked for me before. "No use going half-way," I laughed.

When he arrived and was seated comfortably with a glass of wine, I began my carefully rehearsed little speech. I tiptoed around the subject; then, with a hint of wistfulness in my voice, I asked him, "Do you think we could ever get back together?"

When he stood up and told me he wasn't that stupid, I was stunned. I'd never heard his voice so cold and unfeeling. Then he stalked out without another word, and that really hurt. I'm not used to being turned down. I had been so sure Mark would take me back.

As he drove away, I gulped down the rest of my glass of wine. Once I got over my shock, I tried to think about what else I could do. I hadn't expected to fail so I had no Plan B. Then a thought popped into my head: "I wonder how Robert is doing?"