Promises, Promises...

"No! It wasn't like that!"

"You were fucking my best friend behind my back and in our bed! Didn't you get enough last night?"

"I didn't plan this!" Amy yelled.

"Right! You brought him up here to show him the curtains and ended up naked with him stuck in your cunt and your ass for five orgasms... by accident!"

"Please, let me explain," Amy cried out. "Tim did so well they scheduled a follow-up interview. We popped a bottle of champagne to celebrate and before we knew it things were getting..."

Tim said, "Amy said it was Ok with you."

Amy went on, "I knew it was wrong Jack, but he was so happy and last night worked so well... I didn't want to turn him down now and hurt his confidence. Then last night would have meant nothing and... and... I only did it for you."

I smiled. "So his confidence was more important than your promises to me. Last night you promised only once. This morning you reaffirmed the promise. You lied both times." I faced Tim. "Tim, Go pack and get out. I don't care where you go or how you get there. I do care how fast. If you're still in this house in ten minutes, you will be hurt more than you have ever been hurt in your life."

He headed for the doorway. I looked back at Amy. She was pulling her panties up and I noticed she had shaved her snatch! For five years I had asked for her to do that for me and she'd turned me down!

"Now, she's even shaved her cunt for you! She turned me down for five years! Take her with you! She's obviously not my wife anymore. She's your bitch!"

Amy collapsed on the floor. "No! Jack, please. I went a little crazy, that's all. It's you I love, not Tim!"

"Now, you can go a lot crazy! Go anywhere, fuck anytime you want. You are not my wife!"

Tim went down into the basement. I got two suitcases out of Amy's closet and packed them with her stuff. I hadn't mentioned that I knew he didn't have an interview. She cried, begged and pleaded while she sat on the floor wearing only panties. I noticed a hickey on her tit that I didn't give her. When the suitcases were full, I carried the suitcases out to her car and tossed them in the back seat. I found her purse in the kitchen and took her house keys, the keys to my car, all our joint credit cards and the checkbook for our joint account. I tossed her purse on the front seat of her car.

I climbed the stairs and found Tim in our bedroom watching Amy get dressed. I said, "Which part of get out didn't you understand?"

"Jack, we're sorry. We were just celebrating! I got a second interview!"

"Really? Where?" I asked.

"At the university."

"I called the university. All their interviews are held in July or December! I pointed down the stairs and he went. He knew I knew they had been lying and fucking for a week.

"Amy, your suitcases and your purse are in your car. Take Tim with you! If you aren't out of here in five minutes you'll regret it the rest of both your lives!"

"I already do! Why does it matter if I fucked him once or twice? You said it was Ok last night!" She screamed as she pulled on her shoes.

"Because you promised me once and only once... and then lied to me! The difference is I can never trust anything you say again. You can excuse any lie by saying, "I just had to have his big cock in my ass again! I'm not responsible!"

She dried her tears, stood up and walked down the stairs. I followed. Tim met her at her car, shoved his suitcase in the back seat and got in with her. Her face was covered with tears again. She started her car, looked up at me and mouthed the words, "I'm sorry."

I said, "So am I. Now go!"

She shifted, took one glance in her rear view mirror and stomped on the gas. Her VW shot down the driveway in reverse and out into the street. I both heard and felt the collision. Her green VW disappeared under a bright yellow cement truck. Smoke, dust and steam billowed out instantly. The horn of her VW sounded in one long blare.

I grabbed my cell phone, dialed 9-1-1 and told them about the accident. The EMT's were two blocks from us and in less than two minutes they and three trucks were there.

The cement truck was parked on top of the VW. It had hit Amy's side first and climbed up and mostly over the car. I watched, crying, as the firefighters did everything possible to free Tim and Amy. After ten minutes Tim was out. They put his mangled body on a gurney and parked it next to the ambulance. I walked to him and he opened one eye. I leaned closer to him.

"You're dead. Now or later, you are dead. Count on it. You miserable bastard!" His eye closed and I walked back to my front yard and sat on the porch. One of the firefighters walked over to me and asked if I knew them. I looked him in the eyes and said, "Yes. An hour ago he was my best friend and she was my wife. When I came home they were fucking in my bed." I pointed at Tim as an EMT covered him with a sheet.

"Holy Shit! Well, we're taking them to Porter Hospital. They have the best spinal care in Denver." He took three steps back towards the VW and said, "Goddamn!" He shook his head and continued walking back to the wreckage. Twenty minutes later they got Amy out of the car. They got her on a backboard, loaded her in the ambulance and drove away. I called the auto club and arranged to have the car hauled away.

I locked up the house and drove to the hospital. She was in surgery for nine hours. When they put her in her room I was there. She looked horrible! Tubes, wires and things I'd never seen before surrounded her. She was all but encased to hold her legs and torso from moving. Her head had been shaved and bandaged. The doctors told me about the surgery, the damage and the prognosis. I had no questions. As they talked I listened and tears tracked down my face. More than once a nurse gave me tissues. I sat beside her bed holding her hand for nineteen hours after the doctor's left.

She had drains draining things out of her that dripped into bags hanging from the side of the bed. Bandages on her head that partially covered the bruises and her face no longer looked like Amy. One eye socket was bandaged closed. The eye was gone. I knew her spine was broken in six places. Her jaw was wired closed. I watched her monitors for hours. The nurses brought me food and even a diet Coke. I didn't say anything.

After nineteen hours, she opened her eye and saw me. A tear slid from that eye. A nurse came in and checked her vital signs. I stood, making it easier for the nurse to do what she needed to do. I kept holding Amy's hand and she kept looking at me. I waited about a minute after the nurse backed off before I spoke.

"Amy, I love you. I've loved you and trusted you for all the years since we were in college. I watched you back down the driveway taking my oldest friend and yourself out of my life and I cried. I was the last one to ever speak to Tim. He's dead. I've sat here holding your hand and crying since you came out of surgery yesterday. When I let go of your hand in a few minutes it will not be because I don't love you. I will let go of your hand because you killed our marriage, just like you killed your lover and my best friend. Tim is dead. You killed him and you killed us." Tears were flowing from her. She couldn't speak or move. "When I let go I won't ever speak to you again, dance with you again, sleep next to you, kiss you, have sex with you, hold you in my arms again, trust you or look at you again. You killed all of that. I hope fucking Tim was worth it."

I let go of her hand, turned and walked past the nurse standing beside the door crying. I walked all the way out to my car and went home. Amy's VW and the cement truck were both gone and the debris cleaned up from the street.

As I walked to the back door my cell rang. It was the hospital. "Mr. Knolls, We need you to come back to the hospital."

"Amy died?"

"Sir, we need you to come back to the hospital."

"She wanted to donate any usable organs she has. I'll come back and fill out the papers." I went and they took whatever they could use. It was well after midnight that night when I got home. I left the next morning after a few hours sleeping on the couch. There was no funeral. I stayed away from home for two weeks and spent every day and night grieving in a cabin in the mountains. I grieved for my marriage, for the loss of my wife and my best friend. I grieved for the loss of trust, the loss of our future together.

The day I got home I spent the day cleaning house. The Salvation Army came and got all Amy's clothes and other personal items. They took the two beds too. At nine the next morning my phone rang. The number was from Michigan. I answered and a hostile sounding female voice asked, "Is Tim there?"

"Who's asking?" I asked.

"This is his wife, Sharron."

"I didn't know he was married again. From what he told us he hadn't even dated after Sarah and he split up."

"He dated alright. Dated and tricked me into marrying him. He said he was going out to Colorado looking for a better job. I'll bet that was a lie too." She said.

"Tim died almost three weeks ago."

"Jealous husband kill him?" She asked.

"No. My wife killed him and herself."

She told me she had just found out that Tim had started a pregnancy in their eighteen-year-old neighbor before he flew to Denver for the job interview. She gave me her address and I sent her the death certificate. She wasn't sad he was gone.

That was Christmas week 2002. I went back to work and as they say, life goes on. Life without Amy. Life in a house that is always empty. Life where I don't have a wife to care for and care for me. Life without someone I trust to share my bed and my life.

Yesterday I saw a yellow cement truck and found myself crying. I do miss the Amy I thought I was married to.

{Your comments and votes are welcome. Personal attacks on me are a waste of time. I have relatives and ex-wives who enjoy personal attacks on me and they have had years of practice. Comments that assist in making me a better writer are welcomed.}