The French Exit

Twelve months later, wedding season came around. He hiked his fees. His work at the Times was recognised enough that he was earning a good wage from them. The wedding stuff wasn't quite fun, but it was more about putting a stake down with his apartment and he was doing alright. Life was smiling on him. His family were doing good, his parents were still healthy, his sisters all settling down and starting families of their own.

He kept a curious eye out for her. He'd think of her from time to time. She was now more of the 'one that got away' rather than that cheating cow. It was longer than he thought it'd be before he got to see her that year. But when he finally was at a wedding where she was a guest, she spotted him like she was waiting to see him.

'I was wondering how many weddings I'd have to go to before I got to see you.'

He gave her a genuine smile. She was growing up good. As she got older and more into adulthood, her features matured. The initial prettiness became real beauty. She was well dressed and she had the confidence that came with a lifetime of having money.

'What can I say? This is my twelfth wedding so far this season. I'm slumming it this week, but I was hoping I'd get to see you.'

'Slumming it?' She asked with an arched eyebrow.

'Slumming it. The last couple I've had to do were double the budget of this wedding.'

She looked impressed. He nodded.

'Oh yeah. One of them I was asked to take a prop stage and kit bag.'

She looked at him puzzled.

'A backdrop or two that people can dress up in a few things and be shot against. I had a Gangsters and Molls kind of one, a cowboy set-up. It keeps people amused.'

He snorted. 'Children mostly. But you do get some adults and it's a nice little earner.'

She looked blankly. 'I get to stick a few grand onto my bill extra for that.'

'I wouldn't have the first clue how much you'd get for a wedding.'

Sal told her and watched her reaction. 'Didn't expect that? Remember for that you get my time and might I add, not so inconsiderable skill. I also develop the pictures. I'll then work with the bride and groom, for a small fee, and produce their albums for them and anything else they want.'

'Bloody hell. Your hourly rate is staggering.'

Sal smiled at her 'I've been doing this for what about eight years now. I'm an accredited photographer with the New York Times and I've won a different photography prizes. Each of those bits means I can push up my rates.'

'And people pay? Wow, I'm in the wrong career.'

Sal laughed. 'These are my weekends remember. I'm sacrificing my leisure time to do this and make this money.'

'I remember from when we dated. You were busy a lot.'

'I'm still that guy. I've nearly paid off my mortgage. I earn in a year as much away from work doing gigs like this as I do in my day job.'

'Still boxing?'

'Division One now.'

'That's cool.'

'Still not your thing, is it?'

She shook her head. 'Watching two men beat each other half to death whilst people cheer them on? Nope. Call me a philistine if you want but I don't call that fun.'

'Pity. The sight of me half naked, bleeding but victorious. Lots of women love it.'

'Keep smiling buster. If we were together, I wouldn't want to see you hurt.'

'Thank you, that's a kind thing to say.'

Their conversation carried on and she followed him and spent more of the wedding with him than what she spent with her date. Sal found himself enjoying her company and was tempted to ask her out. Tempted because he knew his current girlfriend wouldn't appreciate the competition and he also knew that at the end of the summer Alice would be going back to college and whilst he could be part of her life whilst she was near the city, it'd be a lot harder when she was away.

So, he was careful with how he spoke to her and made it clear that whilst he liked her and was attracted to her, he wasn't available. He could see amused disappointment in her eyes and her parting remark 'You know, I still do regret not keeping you. I've got a feeling you'd be someone very special for me.' Was music to his ears.

The stewardess interrupted his thoughts with her offer of drinks and snacks. He smiled at her, turning them down and then pulled out his laptop. He had a story to write. Well, more to finish than to write. He'd spoke with Snoopy and shared with her his thoughts, she pulled it around. She had the experience of how to make it a lot harder hitting. He wrote as she directed and he was happy with the end result. He emailed it through to Mick for him to edit and prepare for publication.

He went through his banking. The two of them had a shared bank account that was used for their bills and each had their own private accounts. Sal changed all his passwords and took careful screen shots of what was in each of the different accounts.

He saved all the information into a file. He'd got a face-to-face meeting tomorrow morning with the divorce attorney and he wanted everything prepared for it. She'd sent him through a list of questions and he carefully worked through them all and emailed her the responses. It was a fair bit of work but doing it all now would hopefully mean she'd be prepared for the meeting tomorrow. He'd get a better use of her time than just the standard 'this is how it works' conversation. He wanted to be taking quick, effective action. Not spending weeks talking.

He had the jump on Alice. He knew that their marriage was over and he had until she came back from holiday to get as much done as he could. He wanted to be free from her as quickly and painlessly as possible. He knew that she'd want to talk to him, believing that she could persuade him to stay together and he didn't want that to happen. She'd cheated on him. It hurt like no beating he'd ever taken had hurt. But and this was the main bit for him. He'd taken his beating, now was recovery time.

He didn't care why she'd cheated. He wasn't worried what her explanation was. That was irrelevant. It absolutely didn't matter. The two of them had vowed to forsake all others. Her body was for him to enjoy alone. She'd broken the vows, he hadn't. He knew he wasn't perfect. He worked long hours and was away from home for half the week, but she'd known that and signed up to that when they'd got married. Nothing had changed. She'd never complained.

He'd never played around. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, there were women who let him know, suggested to him. That with a bit of effort from him, they might be curious to see where a date might go. He always turned them down. He was careful not to do anything that could be misconstrued or cause his marriage trouble. Not only things that could cause trouble but could give the impression that he was doing something wrong.

He got on well with her parents. He tried to woo her. He tried to give her surprises and be romantic. He took her on dates and meals out. Not every night, there were more nights in, curled up on the sofa. But he did these things. She'd never come to him complaining, asking for more, asking for something different. Or saying that she was unhappy, something was missing.

As for their sex life, it was generally good. He wasn't complaining. It wasn't wild and passionate and lust filled, but they'd been married ten years. Sex was once or twice a week. It tended to go much the same way each time. They got their rocks off. Again, she'd had the opportunity to complain or ask for something different and she hadn't. Hell, when she suggested him going into chastity and her controlling his access to his penis, he'd been willing to play along with that. In fairness, his willingness to trust her had been rewarded. She hadn't been cruel or nasty, well not up until the holiday. They'd still had sex and she'd probably put in a bit more effort since he was under her control.

He knew that he could drive himself mad trying to work out why she'd done it. He knew that he could sit down and let her explain. Go to counselling and give her the space to find out herself how she hadn't been able to stay faithful. But did it matter? Was it going to make a difference? Would his feelings change? He didn't think so. It was water under the bridge. The first time she'd chosen to let another man sleep with her, she'd broken their wedding vows and from that point on her motivation was irrelevant.

He thanked his lucky stars that he'd realised before they'd had children. That would've genuinely been a disaster. It was bad enough that his relationship with her parents was going to be fractured by this. Having children would have made it a whole lot worse.

He'd finished the stuff for his attorney as the plane was coming into land. He shook his head as he walked off the plane. Just over a week ago he was excited by the prospect of an exotic foreign holiday with his beautiful wife. Their last hurrah before starting their family. Now his best outcome was a quick and painless divorce. What a fucking week!

Chapter Eight

Sal heard the knocking on the door first. He called out to Alexa to pause the music. He heard the front door open and steps in the hallway. He shook his head; he hadn't wanted this. He wanted to be in and out. No explanations, no apologies, no lame excuses, just clean away.

He called out, 'I'm in here.'

He saw the two of them walk into the room and smiled as he did. He put down the pile of books and walked towards them.

'Hey guys.' He walked over to his mother-in-law and embraced her. He gave her a squeeze and released. He then hugged his father-in-law. He could see the puzzled looks on their face and both looking around for their daughter.

'I'll put the coffee on.' He said as he strolled towards the kitchen.

The kitchen was open plan and they lived most of their lives in that room. The two of them took chairs at the table and Sal got the coffee machine making a coffee for all of them. He'd been married to Alice for long enough that he knew how to make coffee the way that her parents liked it.

'You've come back early.' His mother-in-law said. He nodded his head, getting the cups out of the cupboard. He'd bought some milk with him knowing that he'd be having a coffee or two whilst he worked. Knowing that there was a fair chance that he'd be seeing them as well.

'Has Ali come back with you?'

He shook his head to his father in law's question. He turned to face them.

'Nope. No, I'm sorry Gerald, she's not come back with me.'

'Is everything okay, Sal?'

'No, sorry Laura, no it's not.'

'Are they both alright? They're not hurt?'

'Sorry, I should've been clearer, I didn't want to alarm you. No, they're physically fine, all three of them are as far as I'm aware.'

'So why are you here and they're there? Did your work call you back early?'

Sal sat down; the coffee machine wasn't ready. He sat at the table and looked at them. He felt a hundred years old. The strain of the last few days caught up with him and hit him like a train.

'I'm leaving Alice. I'll be getting a divorce as soon as I can arrange it. I'm sorry guys, our marriage is over.'

He could feel the tears welling up and swallowed to try and clear his throat. He couldn't look at either of them. He stared at his hands; fingers interlinked on the table in front of him. He knew they were over; he'd spoken with the divorce attorney at their meeting and said the words out loud, he'd spoken with Snoops and the guys from work and said the words. But the reality of saying it to Alice's parents, that was like saying it for the first time. He felt the weight of the failure of the marriage sink onto his shoulders.

He felt Laura's hand on his and he saw through blurred vision her hands holding his. He tried to blink back the tears.

'I'll, um, make the coffees.' Gerald said.

It took a few minutes for Gerald to make the drinks and bring them back to the table. He knew where everything in the house was, this wasn't his first-time making coffees here. He'd drunk nearly as many here as he had in his own house. He could see the shaking shoulders of his son in law. His wife holding his hands and being present with him whilst he wept. He dropped his hand and patted him on the back as he walked back to his chair and eased himself into it.

Sal wiped the tears away with his sleeve and looked up at each of them in turn.

'I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.'

Laura stood up and came around the table. Sal stood and the two of them hugged and she held him for a few minutes whilst he composed himself. Sal sat back down when they broke out of their embrace.

'I'm sorry Laura. Thank you for that.'

'I'm sorry as well. Can you tell us what happened?'

Sal composed himself, took a sip of his hot coffee, flinching at the hot liquid on his tongue.

'The holiday was a disaster for me. It was humiliating and absolutely horrid. I found out she was cheating on me. We're done.'

'Does she know you feel like this?'

Sal shrugged. 'Last time I saw her, she had other things on her mind than how I was feeling.'

'You've been together for ten years, Sal. Ten years. Have you spoke to her? I remember how you broke things up last time.'

'Doing the same again, Gerald. Why would I speak to her? What's she going to say that I want to hear? Why bother? I'm better off getting my stuff and leaving and never seeing her, speaking to her, thinking of her again.'

'That's not the right way. I don't know the circumstances.'

Sal noticed something when he spoke, a flicker across his face, a flinch. Just a split-second thing, faster even than that. Almost imperceptible. The journalist in him noticed.

'What do you know Gerald?'

'What?'

'I can see on your face you do know something. What is it?'

He looked at Laura who was looking aghast.

'Laura?'

There was silence, he could see that they knew something. He slammed his hand down on the table.

'Tell me! Sweet Jesus, I've known you for ten bloody years. Over ten bloody years. Have the damn decency to tell me what you know.'

Laura spoke first. 'Sal. She's ending the relationship.'

'You knew about him? All this time, you knew about him.'

'Sal, we only found out around Christmas.'

'Around Christmas?' Sal was in absolute disbelief. 'That's what? Six months ago! You didn't tell me.'

'We didn't want to see you two split up. Not over this. You should be together, you're a great couple.'

Sal stood up and walked over to the sink carrying his drink. He tipped it down the drain.

'I thought I was a son to you. I thought of you like my damn parents. You lot must've laughed your heads off at my expense. Guys, you need to leave. You need to leave right now.'

Sal walked over and took their coffees and tipped them down the sink.

'Sal, I was drinking that.'

'No. Our drink is over. Just like my joke of a marriage. Like our relationship. I can't believe it. The apple didn't fall far from the damn tree, did it? Secrets and lies, cheating and hiding it.'

He shook his head.

'Get up and get out of my house or I'll throw you out. Both of you. Now!' The last word was a shout and he could see that finally his words had hit home.

'I'm taking my stuff and then you pair of vultures can come down and pick over what's left. But don't you or your damn daughter ever come near me again. Ever.'

He walked them out, pushing Gerald slightly to keep him moving until he reached the door. He opened the door and held it as they walked out. He could see how upset they both were. Neither seemed able to say anything and he could see Laura was crying. Gerald was flushed red-faced and didn't look far from tears.

'You knew for six fucking months that she was cheating on me. For six months. Did I matter that fucking little to you, that you...'

Sal trailed off. He took a deep breath and fought to bring himself under control. 'Thank you for everything you did. I loved you like I loved my parents. Thank you for welcoming me into your family. I wish things had been different. Good luck in everything you do.'

He said in a stilted tone, he didn't want to drop to their level. He was better than that. He'd been brought up better than that. He closed the door on them and locked it.

He'd been feeling guilty about the impact that his break-up was going to have on his in laws. He'd always gotten along with them well. He knew that they'd be devastated by not just the failure of the marriage. But more importantly, they'd miss him in their lives. Now, he wasn't feeling the same pain. He was feeling real anger. They'd known. He had visions of them all sat around in the kitchen. Alice sitting on Donald's lap, her parents laughing and joking with the lovers as they talked about how easy it was to cuckold Sal.

Donald was from their kind of world. He'd move through it easily. They probably knew him from his days of dating Sarah. Probably glad when he picked up with Alice. He shook his head; he knew he had to stop beating himself up like this. It wasn't going to help at all. It was easy to do, too easy to do. But he had to focus instead of what he was doing today. He had to pay attention to the task on hand and do it as quickly and effectively as possible. Then move onto the next task. Then the next task and the next and soon he'd be able to lift his gaze from the immediate right now and start being able to think about tomorrow and next week and next month and the pain would fade. Right now, he had to clear the house out.

He didn't take anything that wasn't his. He didn't take anything that could be controversial or provoke a fight. He didn't want that. He'd brought from his flat everything that was Alice's. It was less than a box, she'd rarely visited. She didn't like the noise, the bustle, the life, and drama of the city. That which energised him, seemed to sap the life out of her. She liked the quiet, the solitude of the suburbs. He'd brought everything of hers back and it was in a box with her name on it in the living room.

Room by room, he went and picked up his stuff. It took time. He didn't want to be coming back here, didn't want to forget anything important. He packed his boxes carefully and meticulously. He was fast, he was thorough and he was tidy. He didn't want to wreck anything or ruin anything. He left their wedding album alone. The only things he changed were the wedding photos that she had around the house. In the living room there was a large photograph of them together about to have their first dance at their wedding. On the stairs, there were a series of photographs capturing their special day.

The photograph over the fireplace got taken down and replaced with a shot of Alice sat on one man's penis and another in her mouth. Donald visible in the background, naked and stroking his cock. The pictures on the stairs got replaced with smaller photographs showing her engaged in sexual acts with other men. He wasn't interested in revenge, but he wanted her to know that he knew what she was doing and how he felt about it. Saying it in photographs seemed the most appropriate way to do it.

It took a couple of trips to his car with the different boxes and tools that he wanted to keep. Finally, he was done. He left his wedding ring on the kitchen table. His key he posted back through the letterbox after he locked his front door for the last time. She could move Donald straight in now. Come back from holiday and he could move straight in. Bastards.

The divorce should be straight forward. In their state, the rules around divorce seemed relatively civilised. They didn't have children and a pre-nuptial agreement that her parents had suggested. That gave the houses to the people that had bought them to the marriage and split their resources fifty-fifty. Sal reckoned that he shouldn't end up losing any money. He wouldn't get any or not much. But he shouldn't lose any. That would do him. Now he could get on with his life.