The Doomsday List

"Hey girlfriend, have you done anything more about 'the List' yet?" giggled Helen.

"No more since the last item," replied Suze (don't call me Susan), "and don't talk too loud. You know Dave is working in his office. If he ever finds about about this, there will be hell to pay." This made both women explode into fits of laughter. Suze was my wife: my wife for the past twenty years and mother to our grown daughters, Janet and Edith. Helen has known Suze since high school and I would have to say, her best friend.

They didn't know it, but I knew just where to hang out when they got into these gossips and silly moods. The kitchen, which is where their so called conversations took place, was right next to the storage cupboard in my study. Suze always believed that I had sealed up the space, but some part of me stopped it, thinking that some time in the future, I could convert it into something useful. Recently I found it to be useful alright! Useful for eavesdropping on my wife and friends babbling on in the kitchen- a space that they considered safe talk space. I sometimes felt bad about this ability, but in the end, it was always innocent.

I could hear every word spoken, but I have to admit, the pace and topic changes which was their norm at these time, often left me wondering what the hell they were talking about! This wasn't one of those times. Them talking about lists was a normal thing. You see, Suze was a 'list-a-holic'. She made lists for everything. Literally everything. This was way beyond the normal grocery lists, the Christmas gift lists, the weekend away prep lists. She even kept these lists in a special note pad kept on her duchess in our room. Each item would be meticulously checked off when completed or purchased, or whatever. She even noted beside each item the date of completion and who was responsible if not herself. Nobody dared touch this list notebook. If anyone touched it, or moved it, Suze would explode into a person nobody wanted to be near. She was just a bit OCD about it and It drove our family mad at times, but admittedly, it meant that trips away, etc, were well organised. We lovingly called Suze the 'List Queen' with many fun greetings like, 'good morning, your list highness'. All good fun.

What I found intriguing about this conversation between her and Helen, was that this apparent list elicited such fits of giggling and almost secretive low whispering. That was not normal. Sure, I often listened to Helen light-heartedly ribbing Suze about her 'damm lists' and Suze fending her off just as light-heartedly, but this didn't feel the same. I have a well developed gut-instinct when something isn't kosher.

I usually work from my home office as a forensic accountant which means that I get to do the boring accountancy stuff specifically to try catch out thieves operating within a company's financial department. You would be surprised how creative some of these people get just to skim off money from their employers. I often mused about how much more successful these crims would be if they just applied their creativity to earning an honest living.

I am fairly good at my field mainly because of this feeling I get when things aren't as they should be. I wouldn't go so far as to call it ESP or anything, but to me it is a real thing which I rarely ignore.

I make more than enough for our family to enjoy an upper middle class lifestyle. Suze doesn't need to work, but spends a great deal of time helping out as a volunteer at an inner city charity which provides free medical care and shelter for homeless people. Her role there is to provide the secretarial support and coordinate visiting professionals, such as doctors and legal personnel who operate on a pro-bono basis. I am always proud of her efforts and her unselfish attitude towards this task. Her list-making obsession made her the perfect person for the job. Nothing was left to chance with her preparations, whether it was for determining how much bed linen to have available over a weekend, or organising the travel itineraries for visiting doctors. She occasionally needs to travel to other cities to compare their operations with our own. This travel though, only occurred after our two daughters left home to attend university. That's another thing I was proud about with Suze. She was a great mum!

My mind would not leave this new list alone. I wracked my brain trying to work out what the list was detailing, but the nearest I could get to anything like a satisfactory topic was Suze's birthday which was coming up. It was going to be her fortieth and to Suze that was a biggie. The exact date of her birthday is 10 August. Mine was just two weeks after hers, so part of me wanted to believe that she was planning to make our milestone and passage into official middle age a memorable one.

This idea was partly confirmed at Helen and Suze's next session of gossip on steroids, where Helen managed to warn Suze that she didn't have long to complete her list, as she was going to be forty soon. By the way, I did try to find this mysterious list in the usual notebook, but to no avail.

"I know! I know. Don't keep reminding me. I am going as fast as I dare. Look. I'll show how far I have gone," Suze said excitedly.

"This should be interesting," I thought. "Maybe I'll get some sort of a clue here." I listened as Suze could be heard rummaging through her handbag. I heard a zip being pulled and then pages being turned.

"Ah, so she keeps the list in her handbag instead of in the usual place," I realised. That was interesting by itself!

"Now, let's see," said Suze.

"Wait a minute what does all of this code mean?" interrupted Helen.

"I am only being cautious you nut," replied Suze. "If Dave ever finds this, but I suspect he won't, because he wouldn't be caught dead going through a lady's handbag, he won't have a clue about its contents."

"Clever girlfriend," giggled Helen. "So number one. It says, SED OM. So what does SED MEAN?"

"It means seduce."

"What? What did she say? Did she 'seduce'?" My mind went into a freeze as my gut spun around uncontrollably. My hearing tunneled to the overheard conversation. I must have missed some of it while in turmoil because the next thing I heard was:

"Suze, did you really seduce him? He is a hunk. Give me details you naughty girlfriend!"

"Yes," I agreed. "Give me details!" I didn't know if I wanted to hear this, but my morbid curiosity and growing sense of rage rooted me to the spot. I was conflicted. Part of me wanted to get up there and confront Suze, but my sense of dread kept me frozen.

"Well, I had to take him on a tour of the consulting rooms available at the shelter, so I took a quite sexy outfit with me to work and changed into it just before he had to be picked up from the airport. Of course I had to pick him up. I made sure that he sat in the front passenger seat by putting his overnight bag in the back seat. you would be amazed how much your skirt rides up your legs while you are driving and of course, I undid two of my shirt buttons. Just a tantalising hint of better sights to see. I wanted to know if he was interested first."

"And was he?" Helen breathlessly whispered.

"Oh boy was he!" Suze, my Suze replied. "He couldn't keep his eyes on the road! He kept thinking of reasons to look out of my side of the car. He had dark glasses on which made him think that I couldn't see where his eyes were, but I had angled the side mirror so that I could see exactly what was holding his attention. He is obviously a tits and legs man, because he kept alternating between the two. And, he kept shifting in his seat as if he was uncomfortable, you know, in the groin area. Men are so easily led, I couldn't believe that it was so easy. Any way after that small entre, he was ripe for more by the time we arrived. I kept finding reasons to touch his arms, or brush up against him as we were looking at the rooms. Once, I had to lean past him to get the bundle of legal forms he had sign before working here. I made sure that my tits ever so slightly rubbed his arm. My nipples were so turned on, they physically hurt! I have never felt them so big! Anyway he really had to adjust his clothing after that. I made to get up and go, but he found lots of reasons to stay seated while he apparently regained control of his dick."

Both women burst into fits of laughing at this point. I, meanwhile had to leave. My heart rate was through the roof and I could feel my blood pressure playing havoc with my neck. I wanted to heave there and then, but managed to hold it until I reached the ensuite that I had attached to my office. Believe me, there is nothing like the feelings of helplessness and emptiness that a good chuck accomplishes. They matched the same feelings in my heart at that point. An unending cycle of one word questions revolved around inside my head, maybe even aloud. I honestly didn't know. I was numb.

I sat there for I don't know how long, but eventually the numbness evolved into rage. Red, blinding rage! Twenty years! Twenty bloody years and she does this to me. Does this to our marriage, our kids. After all of the time, blood sweat and tears, and admittedly joy, that we had committed to our marriage and this is what she does.

After the anger settled itself at the bottom of my stomach, my mind once again took over. Again the questions. "How long? Why? Who with? How come I didn't see it coming?" I usually had an instinct about something rotten, but not this time. Why? Why? Why? The answer hit me like a bolt of lightning, right between my eyes to the core of my brain and the centre of my heart. "It's because you love her and always trusted her. Those other situations involved people that you didn't know and that you already suspected of being rotten. You never expected that of the love of your life!" is what the logical side of my brain said to the now scrambled emotional side.

I heard Helen leave and could already sense Suze pottering in the kitchen. "Shit," I mumbled. "I can't be here right now with her. I need to get out while I still can. I need to get some semblance of control, so that this doesn't turn into a chook's breakfast."

I quickly grabbed my briefcase and took off out the back door towards my car in the front driveway. Suze always parked hers in the garage.

"Where are you off to Dave?" I heard her yell from the kitchen. "Dinner will be ready in thirty."

"I need to meet a client. Just realised. I could be late, so don't wait up. Bye."

Nothing unusual about that. I did often meet clients, but not usually around dinner time and I did normally leave after kissing my wife and saying roughly what time to expect me back. I couldn't do that this time though.

My car drove itself to the nearest pub where I somehow found myself a nice quiet corner to hide in. I don't think I even registered the first two beers, but after that I did. I think the fourth one started the buzz that numbed my stomach enough that my roaring rage was dulled to simply anger.

I looked around. I knew this pub. I sometimes came here with clients so that we could discuss their expectations over a quiet beer and pub feed. I even knew most of the bar staff. "Hey Georgie Girl, another pint over here please."

"Sure thing Davey. Coming up,"

I loved this place.

"Here's your drink Davey. Mind if I sit down?"

"Why not! But I have to warn you George Girl, I may not be the best company tonight. I won't be offended if you leave."

"I sort of figured that mate. I've seen you in here plenty of times and I have never seen you try to drown in grog like you are now. Anything bothering you that I might be able to help with? You know that barmaids are expected to complete a course of clinical psychology at the University of Bullshit before they're allowed to work in a bar don't you?"

I wasn't listening all that well, so when she added that last bit I just robotically answered, "Fair dinkum?"

"No, just kidding. But my years of experience listening to anyone and everyone who comes in here tells me that you are in all sorts of bother. If I have learnt anything, I have learned that drowning in beer solves nothing. So what's it gonna be? You gonna drown yourself one pint at a time, or are you going to share your problem with someone who might be able to give you another perspective?"

I looked at Georgie Girl. She stared at me expectedly. What was I going to do? Should I tell this lady my deepest fears, my deepest embarrassment. That latest pint was beckoning me. I raised it to my lips just as Georgie Girl stood up to go. "Your call Davey."

"Bugger it! Sit down girl!"

Over the next twenty minutes, I blubbered like a baby as I retold what I had heard. Somewhere during that time another beer for me and a wine for Georgie Girl magically appeared. She ummed and ahhed at appropriate times to keep me talking until I could literally say no more. There was an uncomfortable silence as she finished her wine and regarded me with eyes that had seemingly seen it all.

"Well, bugger me dead!" She finally exclaimed. "That certainly smells alright. Was there any clue that she was going down this track? More arguments, no cuddles, less sex, sex just sex, not making love?"

I stopped to think. The beer didn't help at all, but the question did wonders for my trip back to sobriety. When did we last have sex? Was it just sex, or more? I couldn't answer that question honestly. Our love life was more impromptu. We didn't have a set routine or planned love making sessions. They just happened. I loved that. Since our girls left home, we certainly did have more time and we certainly didn't have to be restrained as far as volume or even places were concerned. Were we doing it less lately?

I looked at Georgie Girl's eyes and answered. "I think it was more just sex recently. She doesn't orgasm as much as she used to, but made sure I did. Were they just mercy fucks? Shit! The bitch! She was just keeping me satisfied so that she could think about what she wanted to do and who with. The selfish, untrustworthy bitch! How could she do this to me and our marriage?" I finished my pint, but no other took its place. Georgie Girl didn't get another wine either. She stared at me and said,

"Davey, when a woman reaches forty, her brain gets scrambled. She realises that her body is deteriorating. Her ability to birth is going or gone. Her hormones are re-adjusting. You have two daughters. You know what a nightmare it was for them and everyone around them while their hormones were raging and their bodies were changing. Women get it pretty tough you know. I've been there. I know.

Now that's not an excuse for what she is doing. She still has a choice every step of the way. She isn't a teenager. She's a grown adult woman with responsibilities and she has a track record that she has handled those responsibilities well in the past. I gather you and your daughters survived their childhood and teenage years."

God strewth. My daughters! What will this do to them? They did survive and thrive during their formative years. I considered that we were very lucky with them and what they had achieved and are achieving even now. I obviously played a part, but in the main it was Suze who guided their development into confident, gregarious and academically successful young adults. How could she now morph into this devious, selfish bitch. What about Helen, her best friend? How could she enable this behaviour? Isn't the role of a friend that of someone who helps you to be the best? Not the the best bitch!

"Georgie Girl, I have to admit that Suze has been an excellent mum. Not just has been, but still is. Her relationship with our daughters is exemplary and many people comment on how close they are."

Holy shit! A thought just hit me. Do our daughters know about this list? Am I the only one out of the loop? As the only male in our family, I often felt like a third leg during some of their conversations. No way! They couldn't be so callous? Could they? Nothing was off the table now. Only some hours ago, I never in my wildest imagination would have thought that my love, my life-long friend and confidant could have trashed my trust and love so cruelly. My mind was a mess. I was more confused at this moment than before the beers. At least the beers dulled the 'what-ifs'.

"Davey, you need to get more info about what is really going on here. At the moment she hasn't crossed a chasm that is too wide to meet across. Take some time. Cool off and think about how you can find out more. That's my advice and it was for free. Well not quite. You're paying for my three wines along with your eight beers. See you around mate. You know where I work, so if you need to unload again, it may cost you about the same."

With that she smiled and I couldn't help but smile along with her.

"Thanks Georgie Girl. Thanks for everything, except the bill!"

I realised that I couldn't go home. I phoned home and fortunately got the answering machine. Suze must be in the shower.

"Hi. Just ringing to say that I am staying with my client tonight. The problems for this account are bigger than a pub meet can solve. We will go on into the night and there may be a bit too much beer involved for me to drive home in the wee hours. See you in the morning sometime."

This only happened twice during my marriage before and each resulted in a massive account, so Suze never complained too much.

What to do?

I needed more info. Georgie Girl was right. Maybe I could forgive Suze over time if all she did was seduce the bastard. But that was only the first item on her list. My mind started to freeze again about the implications of the subsequent items.

I had to find that dammed list!

I had to find out just who was this bastard she was seducing so successively!

I knew what I had to do right now.

The shelter in question, the one where Suze spent time, was open twenty-four-seven. I was going there to see what my gut told me. Luckily it was walking distance from this pub. Even though my mind felt focused, a roadside breath test might say something different! I really didn't want to contribute to the state government's general revenue pot. I wouldn't drive, I just had to walk there.

I looked the part of their usual clientele. I had obviously been drinking. My eyes and general demeanour just oozed emotional turmoil. My clothes might be a bit too tidy, so I took off my shirt and rolled it in the dirt a bit before putting it back on. No one knew me there so I knew that I could gather data fairly easily.

The receptionist was mildly surprised when I stumbled in. She asked me some admin type questions- my name, date of birth, current address(if I had one). I answered each totally incorrectly and began making general conversation with the receptionist. Her name tag said, 'Mary'. Amongst the usual chit chat type questions, I enquired if they had a resident doctor. I knew from my line of work, that you always put the most important questions right in the middle of a rapid fire set of simple unrelated questions. The info I gleaned was that, yes there was a resident doctor, (that's his picture on the notice board along with the hours that he worked). His name was Gerald Hunt. Apparently, he volunteered here three times a year and he came from Sydney.

I didn't want to push my luck too much, so I gladly took the bed offered me and crashed. My tossing and turning didn't make me a popular dorm member, but I'm sure everyone there had seen worse.

My exit from there was early and the walk back to the pub to get my car was brisk. The cool morning air did wonders for my foggy brain. By the time I was in my car I was centred. Now for the home going!

Suze greeted me at the door with concern written all over face. She aimed her kiss at my lips, but I turned slightly so that it landed on my cheek. My kiss was a nondescript air kiss.