The Idiot

It rained steadily all that morning, not that Kenny noticed. He was relaxing with the Sunday newspaper.

*

It was still raining when Kenny set off for the local public park and football pitches around two o'clock that afternoon. When he got there it was easy to spot his old pals, George and Andy. Both of them had a large red and yellow golf umbrella identical to Kenny's, emblazoned with the logo of Kenny's employer, Kingston's Gasfitters and Plumbers.

At the other side of the pitch, near the halfway line, Carbington Rovers in red and yellow and their visiting opponents in green and white were separately going through warm up routines in front of the small clubhouse, jogging back and forth, bending and stretching, kicking footballs to one another. The referee and his two linesmen were walking about the pitch, making sure there was no broken glass or other litter that might be a problem and bouncing a ball every few yards to check the playability of the surface.

It had stopped raining by the time the game kicked off and Rovers were one up almost immediately. It was a scrappy goal, the ball sticking on the worn and muddy surface in front of their opponents' goalmouth, giving the Rovers' striker the chance to poke the ball into the net from point blank range. As the teams trudged back towards the centre circle, the skies opened and a cold deluge of monsoon proportions beat down.

The referee allowed the game to continue for a few minutes, until it was obvious to everyone that the ball was beginning to float on the surface water in many areas of the pitch. Play was suspended and both teams retreated to the shelter of the clubhouse. If anything, the rain started coming down even harder than before and it wasn't long before word came to the few bedraggled spectators that the game was now officially abandoned due to a waterlogged pitch.

There would be no after match bottles of beer in the clubhouse, so George suggested the three of them adjourn to the nearest pub for a game or two of bar skittles.

Kenny wasn't sure. "It doesn't sound like much of a sporting afternoon to me."

However Andy was as keen as George. "Come on, Kenny," he said, and then mimicking Spock from the Enterprise, "It'll be sport, Jim, but not as we know it!"

Kenny enjoyed his friends' warm, good humour. "Aye, alright then, you've persuaded me. Why not? Stella won't be back for a while anyway."

Kenny was still chuckling when he realised he hadn't brought his wallet with him. It wasn't in his jacket pocket, so he assumed he must have left it on his bedside table. George and Andy offered to subsidise him, but northerners are proud and stubborn and it wasn't much of a detour for Kenny to go home and then catch up with his pals at the pub.

*

The unmade bed was stripped down to the sheets and Dave Campbell was holding Stella Macdonald's hips firmly with both hands as he fucked her doggy style, plunging deeply into her over and over again.

They had started out in the lounge, making out on the sofa. He was all over her, pulling at her clothes, pushing her tits out of her bra and shoving his hand down her knickers to squeeze her hot box. His prick was a stiff rod that she swiftly liberated from its restraints, unzipping his trousers and slipping her hand through the flies to hold and squeeze him.

The stereo in the bedroom was turned up and Wagner's Ride of the Valkyrie was booming out, so Stella and Dave didn't hear Kenny when he arrived. Even without the sound track from the bedroom he would have understood the significance of the abandoned items of clothing draped over the sofa. As full realisation of what was happening hit him, Kenny stood there, completely stunned.

Afterwards he had no clear recollection of processing the information. The shock was as if he had been anaesthetised in some way. He walked through to the bedroom, verified that there was no mistake and that it was indeed his wife who was getting fucked by some hairy arsed bastard, then he turned and left the apartment, closing the door quietly behind him.

*

Kenny walked back the way he had come, along the grim, wet streets towards the public park. He couldn't say afterwards how he got there, but he found himself sitting on a bench, staring at the soaking wet football pitches as they glistened in a rare moment of afternoon sunshine.

As the shock began to wear off, raw emotions took over. Firstly, there was a feeling of enormous loss. He felt physically sick and a terrible sadness overwhelmed him. He wept for something precious that was now lost forever. The pain and the sense of loss subsided as he realised that Stella must have planned it all carefully, knowing that he would be watching football and letting him believe that she had gone to visit her sister. She knew what she was doing. She had wanted to spend the afternoon banging that bastard in their bed.

His mounting resentment cauterised the raw wounds of her betrayal and he was gradually able to achieve some sort of emotional balance. His first clear thought was that it was not his fault. He had done nothing to deserve this. He had loved and respected his wife, but she had obviously stopped reciprocating that love and respect. It seemed to him that Stella must have replaced the deep and meaningful life that they had previously shared with a flimsy facade, behind which she had chosen to secretly be with another man.

He just couldn't understand why she had done this, but after a while he realised speculation was futile. Whatever the rationale, it was clearly alien to his way of thinking. Despite the terrible sadness of his situation, the rueful thought came to him that Spock would undoubtedly have said, "It's life, Jim, but not as we know it." It was as if he and Stella were from two different planets. He had gone out of his way to show her his love and devotion and she had countered with her disrespect and outright betrayal.

Kenny realised the affair had likely been going on for quite a while. In the last few months Stella's attitude had changed. She had stopped talking about their plans for the future and spent much of her time complaining about their present circumstances. Kenny thought they were doing well, but he was aware that Stella had become increasingly negative about various aspects of their life together. She moaned about how their home was too small, his job was not good enough, they needed more money and so forth. It now seemed that all of that was likely to have been some sort of self-justification for her affair.

Kenny had no idea whether her lover would offer Stella a better life somewhere else, but he hoped so. After what he had seen, Kenny was not going to prop up their marriage. Stella had hung the horns on him in their marriage bed. If it's not over until the fat lady sings, then as far as Kenny was concerned the fat lady had done her singing when Stella was getting thoroughly fucked by her lover while Wagner's magnum opus boomed through their bedroom.

The sky began to clear as Kenny sat in the park, marshalling his thoughts and working out what he wanted to do. There was no fight or flight decision to be made. His automatic reaction had been the right one, he realised. Stella had given herself to someone else and he wasn't going to get into a fight over her. He wasn't going to try to rewind and retake. He would review and rearrange. He wasn't going to run away. He would walk away.

*

Kenny wanted to avoid any unnecessary unpleasantness, so he waited until just before six o'clock before returning home. Having to deal with both Stella and her lover would have been a challenge and he wanted to avoid losing his temper and saying or doing anything that he might later regret. It was going to be difficult enough dealing with Stella, but he was back in control of his emotions now and he knew what he wanted to do.

"How was the football?" she called happily from the kitchen.

"The match was abandoned," he replied in an even tone.

She came through to the lounge, looking puzzled. "Abandoned?" she asked. "What do you mean?"

"The pitch was flooded. George and Andy suggested going to the Dog and Ferret for a game of bar skittles. Only I didn't have my wallet with me."

"So did George and Andy buy the beers then?"

"Nope. I came home to get my wallet."

Stella's vaguely puzzled look turned into one of utter incomprehension. "But... you couldn't have..."

"Yes, Stella, I did. But you were too busy to notice."

Ashen-faced, Stella stared at Kenny, her mouth agape and eyes bugging in disbelief and horror. Her hands flew to her face, holding her head as if she wanted to cover her ears and block out what she had just heard.

"Oh God!" she exclaimed. Bursting into tears, she turned and ran to the bedroom.

*

Kenny decided to let Stella have some space and time to calm down and gather her thoughts. Although neither of them was likely to want to eat dinner, he decided he would use the time to tidy up the kitchen and baste the chicken from time to time. It could always be eaten cold the next day. It was like rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic, he thought. His marriage was doomed and here he was still taking care of domestic chores.

The chicken was cooked and ready by the time Stella reappeared from their bedroom about an hour later. She tried to explain that it was "just a fling", but Kenny told her he wasn't in the market for horsefeathers, either now or in the future, so he was calling it quits. Stella pleaded with him, but Kenny told her that there were no extenuating circumstances as far as he was concerned. She wasn't drunk, drugged or coerced. She had contrived to betray their marriage, inviting another man into their home and into their marital bed for her own selfish gratification.

Kenny packed all his clothes and belongings in a couple of suitcases and went off to stay with George. He had searched high and low for his wallet, but couldn't find it. Maybe Stella's lover took it, he thought.

*

Stella texted him every day, asking him to come back home, but he didn't reply, except to let her know that someone had found his wallet and handed it in at his bank, so he had got it back, complete with cash and cards.

She hoped he would change his mind, but that seemed increasingly unlikely as the days went by and she wasn't surprised when she eventually got the divorce papers. She went to see a lawyer, who explained to her that, as grounds for divorce, adultery doesn't carry the same stigma in England as in many other countries. If both parties wish early termination, adultery is often the 'fact' that is cited to prove that a marriage has irretrievably broken down, as it is often preferable to other 'facts', such as unreasonable behaviour or desertion. Stella didn't want a divorce, but she realised contesting it would not prevent it. The lawyer had told her that if only one party wants it, a divorce can be granted in England after five years separation.

Kenny had sent her a text message shortly after she got the papers. He was no longer staying with George, but had left town and would be living and working somewhere else. It looked like he had no plans to come back.

Stella knew when she was beaten, so she signed on the dotted line. It made it easier for her that Kenny had agreed to pay the next three months' rent. After that she would have to find somewhere else to call home -- somewhere she could afford on her modest salary. She had talked to Dave Campbell, but it was clear that his ardour had cooled with the news of her impending divorce and he was giving her the cold shoulder. She had no idea what the future held for her, but she was going to steer clear of married men. Maybe her sister could help her get back on her feet.

*

Kenny didn't actually move all that far away from Carbington. His employers offered him a post as a trainee gas engineer fifty miles further down the motorway in Blackhampton. He worked hard and studied hard, living in a little room and kitchen in a quiet suburb. He used one of the company's white vans to drive into the hills at the weekends to do some hill-walking and get some fresh air, but his social life was more or less at a standstill. He kept in touch with George and Andy, who kept him up to date with the mixed fortunes of Carbington Rovers, who seemed to have an uncanny knack of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.

*

It was well over a year after the infamous abandoned match when Kenny eventually returned to Carbington to visit his old pals, George and Andy. Although that Saturday was the night before Valentine's Day, none of them was in a relationship, so they got a Chinese takeaway and then spent a pleasant evening drinking beer in the Dog & Ferret and the Nag's Head. After breakfast on Sunday, Kenny decided to pop into Balbir's to get a Sunday newspaper before the three pals went to watch the Rovers.

Balbir never missed a good retail opportunity, Kenny thought, noting the Valentine's Day bouquets of red roses crammed into vases at the front door.

"Mr Mac!" exclaimed Balbir, grinning in delight when Kenny walked in the door. "Meena! Come quickly. It's Mr Mac. He's back, he's back!"

There was a joyous shriek from the storage area at the back of the little shop and Balbir's wife emerged, clad in a multi-coloured sari. She was clearly just as delighted as Balbir. "It's so good that you came back. We thought you might be gone forever and we would never see you again. Oh, my goodness! I think my heart will burst with happiness!"

Kenny was pleasantly surprised at the unabridged enthusiasm with which his reappearance had been greeted, but he was slightly puzzled. He'd only been away just over a year. It wasn't as if Balbir and Meena were close friends and yet they were rejoicing at his return almost as if it was some sort of miracle.

"It's good to see you again too." Kenny smiled at them, "I'm visiting friends, so I thought I'd pop in and get the Sunday newspaper."

Balbir was still grinning happily. "Yes, yes, Mr Mac, but please wait a moment, because we have something that we need to tell you." He turned to his wife, "Meena, you go call her."

"You see," Balbir continued. "There is a lady who needs to meet you."

"What do you mean?" asked Kenny. "If it's my ex-wife, you can forget it."

"No, my friend," replied Balbir. "Your ex-wife told us you got divorced and she didn't know where you went. It's another lady who needs to meet you."

"So who is this lady, then?" asked Kenny. "Do I know her?"

"Maybe yes. Maybe no. Please wait and see."

Meena was chattering excitedly on the phone at the back of the shop, but it was a very short conversation. Soon she returned, still grinning happily. "She's coming, she's coming right now!"

"Can you tell me what this is all about?" asked Kenny.

Meena glanced at her husband.

Balbir was still smiling, but looked thoughtful. "This should be a happy surprise for you, Mr Mac, and we don't want to spoil the surprise."

"She will be here in a few minutes," Meena added. "It will be wonderful. You'll see."

Kenny was baffled, Balbir was amused and Meena was excited. Kenny was in no great hurry, so he didn't mind spending a few minutes of his time with Balbir and Meena if it meant so much to them. He told them a little about his new job, but he had no idea what they were up to, so he was careful not to say exactly where he was living, just in case someone was trying to track him down.

Balbir served a couple of customers and then a tall young African woman in expensive-looking jeans and a Burberry raincoat breezed in the door, her stunningly beautiful face creased in a broad smile as she looked at Kenny. Without hesitation, she walked straight up to him, as Balbir and Meena looked on, once again grinning with delight.

"I have been waiting for you to return and I'm very happy you're back," she said.

"Have we met previously?" asked Kenny.

"Yes," she replied, without hesitation. "Not only did we meet, but you are the one to whom I owe my great good fortune. You are the one who saved me. I will be forever in your debt."

Kenny was stunned. This beautiful young woman was looking at him with love and adoration, pledging her devotion to him. "I don't understand."

"There was a beggar in a shop doorway one rainy day," she said. "Now do you remember?"

Kenny was shocked to recognise those dark brown eyes. "It was you?"

"Yes. You gave me twenty pounds. Later I found the wallet that you dropped in the street."

"I still don't understand, but thank you for handing in my wallet."

"You're welcome," she said, "but this is not about your wallet. You don't know my name and it is difficult to pronounce, but these good people nicknamed me Lucky."

Kenny was trying to figure out where this was going and was even more perplexed when he saw Balbir quietly lock the shop door and turn the sign to read "closed". It looked like Balbir wanted to make sure they would not be disturbed.

"You see, I came to this shop with the money you gave me," she continued. "I was able to buy something to eat and I had change left over. That was when I bought the lottery ticket."

Kenny looked at the three grinning faces.

"It turns out I really was lucky. I won nearly twenty million pounds. Balbir and Meena got some money for selling the winning ticket and I tried to find you, but you had disappeared. You were good to me and I want to be good to you. Maybe you could say this is your Lucky day!"

*

Kenny woke early, not because the summer sun was beaming through the French windows of the bedroom balcony, but because of the warm sensation of a skilled tongue caressing his penis beneath the silk sheets. It was Lucky's favourite way to wake him. Soon she would crawl on top of him and he would be sheathed in her juicy quim as he held her and she rode him to the finish line. He wasn't sure if he finally got Lucky or she finally got him, but he was betting that for the rest of his life every day was going to be a Lucky day.