Money for Nothing

Fuck. Nothing? Seriously? Just a tiny bit of cash, please! Nope. Zero Euro available. I'm sure that damn ATM machine was snickering inside.

I suddenly sensed her behind me again. It was like a slight tickling at the back of my head. She was pretty. We had flirted a bit when I came in, when I still felt confident. I was relaxed and just about to draw a bit of cash. No big deal. The world looked good.

Suddenly, my disastrous financial situation came crashing down on me. The world changed from being nice and welcoming to threatening in an instant. I felt insecure. The flirty woman behind me would certainly notice if I left without getting any money. I seriously didn't know what to do. If I just left the machine without getting any cash, it would be embarrassing. No, wait, I could have come to the ATM just to check my balance and transactions. Just to do something, I did that. Shoes? She spent 39 Euro on shoes when we were poorer than most self-respecting dogs?

I snatched my card from the slot, turned around and tried to smile at her. I tried to look relaxed and confident and I felt like I failed completely. Damn, her smile was different. This wasn't flirting anymore, this was mocking, right? I pulled my gaze away from her and more or less fled the bank towards my old trusty motorbike. Yeah, trusty it was, but it had one major flaw. The fuel tank was about as dry as the inner-Sahara at noon. In the middle of a bad drought. Which almost seemed desirable, compared to this shitty and cold German winter day, stuck in the city and lacking two important things. Cash and fuel. Without those two, my bike was a useless burden.

Okay, the engine had still run when I rolled onto the parking lot. A few fuel molecules must still be in there. I could just try to drive home. 17 kilometers. Easy. Except that when, not if, I ran out of fuel, I'd be stuck somewhere in the middle of nowhere and I'd have to leave my old BMW there, which was unacceptable. Even if I got home by some miracle, I'd have no way to get back to refuel my bike.

Okay, the bus. I checked the cash I still had. Three Euros and a few Cents. That would be enough for one trip, but how would I get back here? Sighing, I locked my bike and went to the bus station. Laura, damn you. You're going to have some explaining to do.

What followed was the ultimate disgrace. A grown man in a biker outfit, complete with cool black helmet, standing in a bus full of giggling school-kids. My black leather sure made a nice contrast to my bright red face. Some of the little bastards were kind enough record the scene for posterity with their damn mobile phones. Thank you so much, kids. I tried to look as if I didn't care and gave them a thumbs up, but the little bastards laughed condescendingly. I had always wanted to have kids eventually, but this made me reconsider.

After what felt like five hours of that bus setting new low speed records, I could flee the fucking thing and storm into our apartment. I was about to explode and planned to do exactly that. In a perverse way, I was even looking forward to it. Laura was just about to greet me, looking pleased that I was home, until she saw my expression.

"Lucas, what's..." she started.

"Shoes?" I more or less screamed, my voice breaking in a very unmanly way.

She just looked at me and nodded calmly, acting as if she had done nothing wrong. As if following the primary female instinct of buying shoes was the right thing to do in our desperate situation. It was absurd.

"Shoes, yes. I needed them and they were on sale..."

"This is such a cliché," I interrupted her. "Shoes? Right now? You know what kind of trouble that got me into? I ran out of fuel. My bike is still in the city. I had to ride here on the bus." I was still shouting; her calmness started to annoy me even more than those damn shoes.

"Oh, my poor darling," she replied. "The bus? That's terrible. No one should have to take the bus. Except me, every day, of course, as I don't have the luxury of my own vehicle."

That took the wind out of my sails a bit. Damn, I had started to enjoy being the wronged party.

I didn't want to lose my momentum, but the only comeback I could think of was a rather lame "You know that that bike is my only indulgence..."

This time she interrupted me. "Oh, I'm soooo terribly sorry. Of course, I should have walked in the old pair of shoes, which were falling apart so badly that not all the parts were even on the same continent anymore. At least they were well ventilated, which is always handy when it's freezing cold out there. The five kilometers I walk every day don't really require a decent pair of shoes. What's important is that you don't have to walk at all."

Damn, I really needed a good comeback now. "You probably have many..."

"One."

"What?"

"One pair. I own one pair of winter shoes. They were the tattered one that I just replaced."

Fuck. There was only one thing left to say.

"I'm sorry. I was thinking only of myself."

"Again."

We hadn't been married very long, and I wasn't doing a very good job of thinking 'we' instead of 'me.' She was doing much better, I had to admit.

"You're right. I'm sorry." I thought a moment. "Can I see them?"

"See what?"

"Your new shoes."

"Of course." She looked expectantly at me.

"What?"

"They are down there, on my feet," she pointed out with a smile.

"Oh."

I don't know much about shoes, but tried to pretend I did as I knelt and looked at Laura's purchase. I snuck a glance at her face, and she was obviously eager for my approval. Fortunately for our marriage, Laura never carried a grudge. This was important, as I was subject to this kind of brain fart every now and then.

"They look warm and sturdy," I stated, as if I knew what I was talking about. "Are they comfortable?"

Well, that opened the floodgates. She went on and on about where she found the shoes, how she happened to go into that particular store, how she dickered with the salesman. She was obviously proud of herself, and I had to admit she had every right to be.

"I'm sorry I shouted at you earlier. You really did great getting those shoes, and I should have complimented you instead of getting mad."

Besides, 39 Euro for winter shoes wasn't bad at all, now that I thought about it.

"Come here, Lucas. You're lucky I love you so much." I knew that she was right.

Later, we fully made up with some fantastic sex. It always was red hot with her. I had my share of women before her, but the sex with them just couldn't measure up. I sensed that it was the same way for her, mainly because she had told me so about a thousand times. As important as the sex was, it was not what our relationship was about. She was my soul-mate, my best friend, the only one I could really rely on in a hostile world.

Wherever we went, people envied us, or maybe even hated us. We were that couple, you know? Everyone just knew we belonged together because no one else was good-looking enough. What they didn't know was that Laura was an absolute sweetheart. She was kind and loving, and made our shitty little apartment into a home. She was taking a business degree in addition to her full-time job waiting tables, because she recognized that neither of us knew how to handle money, and one of us should learn. She had dreams for us: someday we would have our own car shop. I would do the car stuff and she would handle the money and the business end. Me? I worked on cars at a garage in the city. I was good at my job, and my boss knew it, but somehow, that didn't get me any more money.

There were some mechanics who actually earned good money. Those were the ones who knew electronics and stuff. Me? I just mounted tires. As they needed a big, strong guy for that, they wanted me to keep doing that and I was never considered for any of the advanced training courses. That sucked, because my work was the physically hardest and paid the least. What money I did get, I didn't use well. Laura was right: I was lucky she loved me so much. I loved her just as much, but wasn't as good at showing it. I hoped I was learning.

Problem was that all our good looks and all our love didn't put money in our wallets. Financially speaking, the only thing we owned was debt. We were constantly worrying about money, hoping to avoid unexpected expenses and not even getting by when there weren't any. We had made some mistakes earlier, bought some things we shouldn't have, and were still paying off those loans. The constant tension and fighting were wearing on our love.

"I can't take it anymore," Laura suddenly said.

We were watching some older action flick I had chosen. The day before, I had endured her cheesy romance thing without complaint, and now it was my turn.

"Hey," I started, pointing at the screen. "I know it's not your thing..."

"No, not the movie. I wasn't watching it anyway. I've been thinking."

"Hmm, okay," I mumbled while stopping Bruce Willis as he was shouting something at someone. I had managed to freeze his face in the perfect moment. I just wanted to point it out to her when I noticed her serious look. Sighing, I turned on some random Spotify playlist instead.

"The money... I don't know, Lucas. We've tried. We're working our asses off. We're eating shit many rats wouldn't touch."

Why in the name of all that's holy did the Spotify deities choose Paul Simon right at that moment? My father was his biggest fan and played that shit all day long. Not wanting to puke in such an important moment, I took my phone to find something else.

"Lucas, put the phone away, please. This is serious."

"The problem is all inside your head," she said to me.

"It's going to get better," I lamely said, not knowing what else to say and having no idea why exactly it was going to get better.

"How?" I was hoping she wouldn't ask that.

"Ah..." Shit, I desperately needed to come up with a reason quick. Problem was, I had been thinking about this every day and couldn't come up with any. She looked at me patiently, knowing what kind of quandary I was in until I finally came up with something. "You're going to get your degree eventually..."

"Lucas," she interrupted me softly while putting her hand on mine. "I'm hardly progressing at all. All I do is wait tables and fight off groping drunks. That's not the life I want in the long run."

"Still, eventually..."

"Lucas, wake up," she interrupted me a little more forcefully. "I'm never going to finish like this. It's just not possible. I spend all my energy just surviving from day to day. There's nothing left to improve our lives."

We looked at each other. She seemed to want me to say something, but for the life of me I couldn't think of anything. This was important, but I failed like I did so often.

"I've met this guy, Lucas."

There must be fifty ways to leave your lover. Paul contributed in the background. I swear, if he had been in the room in that moment, I'd have smashed his damn teeth in.

"Wait, what?" I was starting to panic now. That was one of my biggest fears: her being wooed by some rich dude. I didn't feel like I could compete with someone like that. Of course, I let my paranoia take over fully. "Shit, you've met some better-looking rich guy and have fallen in love."

Fifty ways to leave your lover.

She was insensitive enough to snort when she responded. "Better looking? Love? You've got to be kidding. I've never met a better-looking man than you and I've never loved anyone but you."

Make a new plan, Stan.

I felt a bit better, but was still unsure where this was leading.

"Have you had sex with him?"

Just get yourself free.

She looked me deep in the eyes when she responded. "No, I'd never do that."

"What's this about, then?" I unsuccessfully tried not to squeak while I said that. I was strung up almost to the breaking point.

You don't need to discuss much.

"Lucas, I love you and I adore you. Sadly, what I said is true. I just can't... I've tried... I really can't continue to live like this anymore. I want a few clothes. I need a warm apartment. That isn't a luxury; you know that I can't stand the cold. I want decent food. I need a few cosmetics. A car, my god, that would be the ultimate dream. Enough money to continue studying, getting my degree..."

Just drop off the key, Lee

Her voice had risen uncharacteristically until she was almost screaming in the end. I, meanwhile, was still sitting there. Mute. Numb. Insecure. Full of dread. Most importantly, not having a clue what to do next. What did she expect? Should I scream, sulk, rant? Would any of that change anything? The worst thing was that she was right and I knew it. I was a loser. A good-looking loser, but still a loser. I would never amount to anything. I didn't deserve her. My self-esteem was at a new low.

She said, "it grieves me so to see you in such pain."

"Lucas..." she started, but couldn't go on. I saw pity in her eyes, and I began to see where this was headed.

"Please don't leave me." I hated myself for begging.

And then she kissed me and I realized she probably was right.

"Please don't make this harder than it already is. This is the hardest thing I've ever done." She composed herself. "Lucas, I'm sorry, but I want a divorce," she said rather formally.

Something snapped in me. That bitch. I didn't have it any easier than she did. I suffered as much as she did, but had I given up on us? No, I didn't go out looking for a rich woman.

You just slip out the back, Jack.

"Fine," I replied just as formally. "When will you move out?"

Make a new plan, Stan.

"What?"

"That's what you want, right? Move out, live with some rich dude. Marry him. Have his kids, grow old with him." Fuck, fuck, fuck. All the things I'd planned on doing with her, now she'd do with this rich guy she found.

She had teary eyes again; all of her composure was gone. She collapsed into my arms, but I refused to comfort her.

You don't need to discuss much.

"Luucaaas," she wailed.

"No," I said while pushing her away. "If you don't want me, there's nothing I can do about that. The least you can do for me is a clean cut. No wailing, professing your love, saying that you're sorry, that you don't want to hurt me. I don't want to hear any of that because none of it is true."

Hop on the bus, Gus.

"But I do..."

"No," I interrupted her. "You made your choice, now live with it."

Just drop off the key, Lee.

I could see in her eyes that she was conflicted. I knew how much she loved me. Or had loved me, anyway. One look at her face and even I could tell that this was as hard for her as it was for me. I refused to dither endlessly about this. Yes, I was already sulking a bit, like every grown, or not-so grown, man would in my situation. Seeing that this hurt her as much as it hurt me gave me a bit of sadistic comfort.

"Okay," she sniffed. "You're right. I've started this, now I'm going to have to pull it off."

"Right," I confirmed, sounding way more confident than I felt. At least that damn song was over, just like our marriage.

She nodded, got up and went towards the bedroom. Fuck, that was quick. Just a few minutes before, I was happily married to one of the most beautiful women I'd ever met, and now I was left behind while she went on her way to a better life.

A few minutes later, she appeared in the bedroom door with a small overnight bag.

"Lucas, I want to tell you that I'm sorry for..."

"No," I interrupted her. "I already told you I don't want to hear it." Yeah, full sulking mode.

"Okay," she nodded sadly. "Oliver has agreed..."

"Oliver? You're leaving me for a dude named Oliver?" I asked as if it was an unusual name.

"What?" she asked, a bit confused. "Anyway, he has offered to pay off my half of our debt, so this will help you to get out of this... well... situation."

"5.300? He bought you for lousy 5.300 Euro?"

"You asshole! He didn't buy me. How dare you say that to me?" She took a deep breath and calmed down. "Look, I don't want to turn our goodbye into an argument. Thank you for the years we've had and know that I still love only you and always will."

She sounded too formal and rehearsed to really touch me. That bitch. They say there is a fine line between love and hate. Problem was, I was still safely on the love side of that line with no hate in sight. I was not going to show weakness now, though.

"Yeah, whatever." I tried to sound as unaffected as possible and was pretty sure that I succeeded. Even small victories counted.

She looked profoundly unhappy about my refusal to turn this into a sappy parting scene when the doorbell rang. She opened the door and revealed a smallish, rather average looking guy. That's when I realized that she had planned this evening in detail, and that didn't really help to alleviate my anger.

He seemed to be about 15 years older than our 22. He was about 20 centimeters shorter than me and not ugly, but definitely not a looker. I thought that he was lucky that I didn't open a window as he could have been blown away by a slight breeze. I was disappointed that she left me for Mr. Average, but what annoyed me most was his damn happiness. He looked like he had just won the lottery and could barely keep himself from joyfully jumping around like a little boy. The way he looked at her made clear that he adored her, maybe even worshipped her.

"Laura! Finally! I'm so happy..." he started when he was about to embrace and kiss her.

"Stop, Oliver. Not here, in front of Lucas. Let's give him some respect. Lucas," she started, moved towards me and was about to begin the tearful goodbye scene she had planned. Probably even rehearsed, damn her.

"No. Just go. I don't want to hear it."

"What?"

"Go. I don't want this shit. You've rejected me like yesterday's..." I hated myself for being too confused to complete the sentence. "Like yesterday's whatever. Now just go, please. Let's make this short and painful instead of long and painful."

"Oh, okay. I'm sorry." Damn, she said it again, despite me not wanting her to. "Farewell, my love." For a woman about to start her new life with her new man, she sure looked like shit.

The door closed and I was more alone than I've ever been in my life. I was unable to stop myself from looking out of the window and saw the mismatched couple walking towards a fucking Porsche. 911. Turbo. Damn. Convertible. Current model. Shit, exactly how much money did this guy have? Much more than I had, obviously. I was so poor that I didn't even know what these things cost.

"Fuck!" I shouted and punched the sofa. "Fuck!" I repeated, just to make the point clear. As if anyone was listening.

I've always been quite popular with the ladies, and after a few weeks of being undecided whether to be depressed, angry or sulking, I sought female companionship again. It was as hollow and empty as could be expected. None of them could replace Laura, although there were some stunning ladies among them. We'd had so much more than just the physical aspects.

Laura made good on her promise to pay off her part of our debts. I'm sure that she could have paid off all of them, but she had the common sense to not do that. It would have been like a sale, like compensating my loss with money, and that would have been tasteless.

I got along much better financially. My income was meager, but still much higher than hers had been. With half of our debts gone, I was able to breathe again. Of course, I still wished I had her instead. I admitted that her life might be better, at least materially. She probably had a nice car, a warm house, she travelled to interesting places, but what was that compared to true love? Quite a lot, it seemed. Enough to leave the love of her life, apparently.