Irvin and Isabel Davis

The two women started at the slamming of the back door.

"Hi, you in there?" said the man.

"Hardin! What are you doing here!" said Isabel.

"Hah! You'd like to know the answer to that one wouldn't you," he said.

"Hardin!" said Isabel.

"I saw your husband checking into a motel across the street from the Hard Hat. I was playing some pool and having a couple of brews with Max Jethcote," he said. "You two have broken up haven't you?"

"Maybe, not sure. But I can't believe you risked coming in here without so much as a how-do-you-do or a by-your-leave. You don't know; he could've been rethinking his decision to dump me even as you drove over here. So, you can't stay. You gotta get outta here right now," said Isabel. His smirk was evidence of his resolve to ignore her, at least for the moment.

"What happened?" he said.

"I outted myself. It's more complicated than that, but I do not have the time nor the inclination to discuss it right at this moment. Okay?" she said.

"Oh and hi, Minnie," he said, as he moseyed over to the frig. "Got a beer in here, Izzy?"

"Hardin, no, not for you. Those are Irv's beers, not yours. Get the heck outta here before . . ."

"Before what," Izz," he said. "Before you find some other nine-incher to do you up right?" He snickered his contempt for her show of bossiness. He continued scanning the frig for his quarry.

"There it is. I like your soon to be ex-husband's tastes," he said, pulling a PBR from its hiding place.

"Take it and go," she said. "Call me tomorrow at work. But, now you gotta go. Okay?" she said.

"Okay, okay. But if you outted yourself, I guarantee he will not be coming back tonight if he ever does. He's gotta be cryin' in his beer right about now about losing a piece as good as you.

"Anyway, Izz, Minnie, see you all later," he said. He disappeared the way he'd come, taking a swig of the PBR as he went.

"Kinda full of himself isn't he," said Minnie as the door closed behind the man.

"There's no kinda about it, but unfortunately there just aren't all that many nine-inchers out there to choose from, so I grant him some latitude," said Isabel.

"He gets latitude, and Irv gets ultimatums. Hmm, gotta say, you might be wantin' to reassess your priorities, girlfriend," said Minnie. Isabel sighed.

"Yeah maybe," said Isabel.

******

I was sitting in Mac's, and no not my wife's venue. I liked the quarter pounders; well, I could afford them. I didn't notice him at first. But, he noticed me.

"Hi yuh Irv," he said. "Mind if I sit with you for a few?"

"John! No, of course not, have a seat," I said. "What brings you to this establishment dedicated to the more refined elements of Scottish cuisine?"

He snickered. "Yeah, right," he said. "No not the food. I'm kinda on a mission of mercy."

"A what?" I said.

"Yeah, Minnie told me to come talk to you," he said.

"Minnie? Huh?" I said. Then, I began to come around to his purpose. He could see I was on to him.

"Yes, you got it. Minnie asked me to talk to you about the thing with your wife—and—her boyfriend," he said.

"I don't know what you know, John, but she wants me to be okay with her fucking another man and that regularly. Some guy named Karpis," I said.

"Yes, I know. Minnie thinks he's short term. Thinks you'd be over the top to dump your marriage over Isabel's playing. But, I gotta tell yuh, I think you're the one in the right here. Izzy is a great gal, but sometimes maybe, well, maybe not all that bright. Minnie thinks that if you hang in there that she'll come around and be properly remorseful for her crimes of a sexual nature," said John.

"I don't know, John. I need a one man woman. Isabel isn't one of those. More's the pity," I said.

"Yes, but you can't fight the evil dragon if you're not there to do the fighting. Anyway, I'm here to ask you to think about it and to not go off the deep end until you have," he said.

"I'll think about it, John, but, it is more than doubtful that I can bring myself to sit at home while she is out on a date with the guy; even with, the promise that when she returns that I will be handsomely rewarded; I mean if you get my drift," I said.

"I'll tell 'em, well, Minnie. And for the record I do know where you're coming from," he said.

******

The Hard Hat was pretty much just that: a hangout for the guys who worked in 'em, hard hats that is. It was just across the street from my motel room. It was where I had determined to spend my off hours ruminating over the disaster of my home life, my marriage.

What I kept coming back to, remembering those final minutes of my marriage, was the dichotomy of the two streams of thought that my wife had presented me with. On the one hand, she had earnestly contended that she would be thrilled if I would stay with her, and accept her dalliances as little more than play. But, on the other hand, that if I could not see my way clear to accept her terms, that divorce would be the inevitable result.

Logic would have seemed to dictate that a divorce, would have at least for her, have a result at least as thrilling as my acceptance of her cheating on me. Hence, follow up logic dictated that I get out of Dodge. And, so I have.

Wonderful it is to be oh so fucking logical. But what wasn't so fucking wonderful was the indisputable fact that my logical choice had left me at least as miserable as I might have been had I stayed and been her willing cuckold.

I had the feeling, the thought, that Isabel loved me on some level; but that, whatever it was that I really lacked, left her needing to fill a need, that I never had or even maybe could, fulfill. I was sick at heart, lonely like nobody ever was, and no longer gave give a rat's ass what happened to me. I just worked, and that not very well, and then worked some more. I guess what I was really doing was killing time waiting to die. For damn sure I had no life, none that mattered at any rate.

******

It was early, a little after 7:00PM announced the wall clock with the red and white label of Budweiser emblazoned across its face. I'd just arrived and commandeered my now usual seat at the end of the bar.

"How yuh doin' there bub?" said Cody Williams, bartender extraordinaire, as he poured my second JD. I gave him my usual exasperated look.

"Not as good as I will be after maybe my third or fourth one of these," I said. Cody smirked.

"Yeah, well I can dig it," he said. "So you say your wife's got a boyfriend?"

"Yeah, some guy named Karpis," I said.

"Karpis? Hardin Karpis?" said Cody.

"Yes," I said. I watched as Cody's eyes floated to his left eight or ten seats down the long bar. So that was my replacement. A couple of inches taller than me, but kind of paunchy. He was talking to some blond arguably ten years his junior. Looked like my replacement might be a player.

I Pulled my cell phone and took a pic. I hoped it would turn out to be a good one. The blond moseyed away from his sexmanship. I had an idea, an inspired idea actually.

I headed for the pillar where one slotted one's quarters to play songs on the computerized music machine. I'd gotten a couple of bucks' worth of quarters from Cody. I could play five songs. I chose two, and turned around to the man seated at the bar behind me, yeah, none other than Hardin Karpis who was watching me: that was my cue.

"Got a favorite?" I said. He smiled.

"Yeah, I do," he said. "Making Memories of Us," by Keith Urban. Well, I couldn't fault his taste in Country music. I punched in the numbers and added a couple more songs. They started to play.

"Your taste and mine seem to be alike," I said, trying to get him into a conversation to see what I could learn.

"That right," he said.

"Well, Keith Urban, anyway.

"Saw yuh talkin' to that pretty blonde a while ago. She your sister?" I said, laughing.

"No, just a local prostie, goes by Carrie. Comes in here once in a while trolling," he said.

"She may be a hooker, but she sure is a looker," I said, stating the obvious.

"Yeah, she is I guess. But, got me a regular piece, don't need no pro," he said.

"Wish I did," I said. "Well, some got it and some don't I suppose. I'm one of the have nots." He laughed.

"You're not a bad lookin' guy, you'll find you a honey," he said.

"Yeah, well, I hope so. I'd be satisfied with almost any woman so long as she wasn't married," I said.

"No-no-no-no-no," he said. "Marrieds are the best. Usually they're just in it for the sex. No commitment and somebody else is payin' the bills.

"My honey's married. Got a wimp for a hubby who has just lately left her because he couldn't deal with the fact that she was seeing me; she essentially told him to tolerate being her cuckold or to get out. He opted for out."

"Really?" I said.

"Yes. She'd pretty much cut him off these past few months anyway. He wasn't worth a shit in bed, or so the woman says," he said. "He edged close to me and whispered what I suppose he thought was a big assed secret.

"The woman says his cock is about the size of an average man's pinkie—her words." I could feel my face cloud up. I'd been sick to my stomach before, but now I was even more so.

"At any rate," continued my rival, "he 'was' paying her bills, but according to her, truth told, he barely made enough scratch to even do that. She said he was kind of a loser. Said she loved him, she thought, but kinda glad that he's now out of the picture. I'll be moving into her house in a few days. Hey, it's free and unrestricted 'pussy'," said mister Karpis.

"Wow! You are a lucky stiff for sure," I said. I needed to get out of there before I started to out-and-out bawl. It was without doubt the worst day of my life: I'd discovered what my wife really thought of me and none of it was good.

******

Work became a chore after my education by mister Karpis. I mean it had always been a chore, but now it was more than I could handle, at least not easily. The good news, or, maybe it was bad news, was that it soon didn't matter—I was fired.

"But, mister Marks . . ."

"I'm sorry Irv. You've always been a dependable employee, but lately you've kinda disappeared from the radar, and at a time when I'm being forced by upper management to cut payroll. I can no longer afford to keep you on staff.

"But . . ." I started. He held up his hand as if to say that there were no 'buts' that would make a difference.

"I'm afraid you'll need to be out of the building by day's end, Irv. See Annie for your final check. I have included a letter of reference for you. I'm afraid that's that best I can do, Irv. Best of luck to you," he said.

He nodded for me to leave and busied himself with paperwork of some kind. I guess he was kind of embarrassed to have to let me go. And as bad as the news was, I couldn't bring myself to hate the guy. Hell, I knew I hadn't been up to snuff since the breakup with my wife. And just like that, I was unemployed. I left his office on wobbly legs.

This was bad. Not only had my wife screwed me over, not only had I no home, I now had no job. I guessed Isabel, my Isabel, had been right to dump on me. It sure looked like I was indeed the nothing she thought me, that as reported to me by mister Karpis.

The rent on my little motel room, and yes, I was still hanging my hat at the Price-wise motel, for the next fifty-four days were paid: I'd paid for three months in advance so as to not have to deal with paying the rent every month. Hell, the room was cleaned daily, and utilities were included; except for my cell phone which service would soon be cancelled.

At any rate, having paid my rent up in advance worked for me now because I would need a little time to get me another job, one I would not be taking for granted, no sirree; I told myself.

And then it was day fifty-three and I still had no job. I was young, at 29, and not without some skills, or so I thought, but no one was hiring—at least not hiring me. And, then I was on the street with a wheeled suitcase packed with everything I owned of any consequence, mostly clothes and a few personal items. I'd probably need to be getting me a grocery cart pretty soon.

Some might be inclined to ask why I hadn't fought harder for my—our—apartment and its accoutrements. Simple, I didn't make the bread to pay for the place and all of its expenses by myself on my own; and, for that matter neither did Isabel, no doubt the reason mister Karpis was being allowed to move in with her—well—one of the reasons anyway. That and the hurt I was feeling militated against me wanting to stay in the place alone with all of its memories, both good and bad.

Adding to all of that, I was confused. There was no doubt Izzy was smarter than I was that contrary to what John Fowler had said. Hell, she was an assistant manager where she worked, probably going to be manager before long; then, she'd be making more money than me, well, than I had been, maybe 40K annual. I knew Mac's was a good company to work for in most respects. At any rate, when I left, I took only the things I'd be needing on a daily basis. The only thing extra I took was our wedding picture; she'd looked me askance, when I'd done that, but she'd not tried to stop me. Why that item when we were clearly done, as I saw things, as a couple? A no brainer, I still loved and needed her more than anything.

Whatever, I was out on the street now, and I didn't much like it.

I was able to eat free once a day at the downtown rescue mission, an area crowded with losers like me. And on really cold nights, and it was getting to be winter, I was allowed to sleep in a nearby covered truck park and kind of act as an unpaid security guard at the place—Allied Cargo. Actually there were two of us allowed to sleep there. Mister Hal Hensley, the boss at Allied had looked with a sympathetic eye on us. Alexander Barclay, a guy even more destitute than I was, was my compadre in poverty. We'd met at the mission and decided to be each the other's backup: the streets weren't the best, and certainly not the safest of places for indigents like us.

And as bad as the days were, the nights were infinitely worse. All I could think of was Isabel and our toasty bed with us curled up tightly against each other. I missed her more than anything. But, that said, when I did dream about her, my thoughts were uniformly interrupted by the image of mister Karpis banging her with his huge sex engine and the two of them both laughing at me. Those thoughts hurt, a lot.

"What you thinking about, Irv?" said Alex.

"Same as always, her—and him," I said. My bud nodded.

"I can dig it. Women! You can't trust 'em worth a damn," he said. My turn to nod.

******

"So he's two months behind in the rent on the place?" said Hardin.

"Yes, I called his office and found out he didn't work there anymore. I guess he got a job somewhere else, but as to where—well—I just don't know. It's taking every dime I make to just keep the place now. And, being two months behind in the rent, well, I might have to get a second job just to get by," she said.

"You need to divorce him and get on with things, Izzy.

"But, anyway you and I made a deal: if he didn't keep up the payments I would; I mean since I live here now."

"Let's go out and celebrate our new and upgraded situation," he said.

"Let's," she said.

"Evening, Cody," said Hardin. "This is Isabel my squeeze. Couple of red wines if yuh got 'em."

"You too," said Cody. "Nice to meet you ma'am. And, Hardin, you know I've got 'em," said Cody, heading off down the bar to fill the order.

"Good 'ole Irv never brought you here before?" said Hardin.

"No, we didn't spend a lot of money going out, and if we did it was usually just to eat, hardly ever to drink or dance or anything like that," she said.

"Well, now that you're my full time woman, and I'm payin' the rent; we will be doing stuff," he said.

"Your full time woman am I?" she said.

"Oh yeah, that sucker you were married to . . ." he started.

"Still am married to," she said.

"Yeah, I guess for now. But, he was crazy to move out. I mean leave a piece like you to graze in other pastures? Not real bright of him," said Hardin. The drinks arrived.

"Start a tab," said Hardin. "We're going to be here a while."

"Okay," said the barkeep.

"No, Irv would never be described as being all that bright, not stupid, but well . . . a good guy in a loser sort of way," she said. The two of them laughed.

Neither noticed the Bartender half listening to their exchanges. He knew that Irv had lost his job. He hadn't been in in a month because, as Cody knew, Irv was broke. He'd never met his wife until now, but he could see why he, Irv, was dispirited: she was a beauty.

"Tell me again about him trying to get you off," said Hardin. He was trying not to laugh outright, and, succeeding to some extent.

"He tries, he desperately tries. I'll give him that, but never has. I've told you that a hundred times," said Izzy. "His three and half inch dick just can't get the job done. I don't blame him for that. It's a physical impossibility for him. He's too quick, too small, and way too ignorant of a woman's needs," she said.

"You could have taught him," said Hardin.

"Did. He thought I was badgering him. I gave up. Anyway, he's gone. More's the pity. He was useful if only to pay the bills," she said.

"How's the drinks," said Cody, noticing that hers was almost gone and the guy's half gone.

"Yeah we can do with refills," said Hardin. He poured the drinks from the bottle he'd brought down the bar with him.

"You know a guy named Irv Davis?" said Hardin.

"Irv? Sure, used to come in once in a while. Came in more often after his marriage cratered. But no more," he said. "Not since he lost his job. Hear he's on the street now. A friend of his told me so a while back."

"He lost his job?" said Isabel. She had assumed that he had quit his job to get away, but lost it . . .

"Yeah, after his marriage went south; he seemed to lose interest in work, everything really; told me that himself," he said. Isabel nodded. "Sounded like his wife did him dirty." Isabel took on a sad look.

Neither of the two of them picked up on the fact that Cody'd pretty much ID'd Isabel as Irv's wife. He'd wondered off down the bar looking for an empty glass to fill.

"Jesus, my own personal pathetic asshole is on the street," said Isabel. "Gotta feel sorry for the poor guy."

Hardin was suddenly serious. "Yeah, really. That's tough," he said. Isabel looked him askance.

"I'm going to the little girls' room. I'll be back in a couple of minutes," said Isabel. He raised his glass in a pseudo toast to nature's call, she snickered and made to go.

"Another?" said Cody, coming up to him.

"Yeah, sure," said Hardin

"That's Irv's wife isn't it?" Said Cody. Hardin looked him askance.

"Yes. It is," said Hardin.

"He told me that you were the one doing her," said Cody.

"What? Told you—me?" said Hardin

"Yes, and you've met the man," said Cody

"No, never had. She talks about him a lot. I listen. Feel like I almost know the guy," said Hardin

"No, I meant you have already met him," said Cody.

"Huh—what?" said Hardin

"Remember some weeks back some guy asked what kind of music you liked," said Cody nodding toward the music machine down the aisle.

"No, I don't think so," said Hardin.

"Yeah, you told him you like Keith Urban's 'Memories of us'," he said. A light seemed to come on in his head.

"That was . . . " said Hardin.

"Yep. That was Irv," said Cody

"Oh shit!" said Hardin. That got a raised eyebrow from Cody who now took to touring the tables talking to the customers while his backup handled the bar.

He saw her returning from the little girls' room. She noticed his look.

"I've met him," he said, without ceremony.

"Met who?" she said.