The Karma Credit Plan

"Chef," she huffed. "You were working endless hours at temp jobs as a simple cook. You never even made it to sous-chef. Most of my friends are lawyers, like I am. Can you even imagine how embarrassing it was to introduce you and have to deflect questions about your job? They all knew that there had to be a weakness, something I was hiding, and they smelled blood."

I refrained from commenting about the idea of being friends with people who were looking for weaknesses in others in order to exploit them. We had talked about our different views on friendship before, and it was a moot point now, anyway.

"I know, I know," I conceded. "We talked about our different views on life until we were blue in the face. I know that you were the bread winner in our marriage. The thing is, I didn't need to have this house, I don't need much at all, never did. Believe me, had the situation been reversed, I would have taken care of you without batting an eye."

"Yes, and it would have been completely normal that way. A strong confident, successful man taking care of his woman, a man earning more than she does, a man being respected by others, leading the way."

I sighed. "I guess I was overly optimistic when it came to our marriage. I'd hoped that our love could be stronger than trivialities like who earned how much. I guess I misunderstood you. I really thought you were strong enough to handle this disparity, to keep your priorities straight, to keep your respect for me.

"Maybe deep down we really were mismatched all along, and our different ideas of what marriage should be would never have worked. Maybe our marriage was already dead before I left. I've never really thought about it like this, but maybe that was one reason I wanted to get away for a while. Maybe I..."

"For a while," she shrilly interrupted my contemplation. "You call 15 months a while?"

Amazingly, she didn't even refute my saying that she couldn't handle an economically unequal marriage. She just wanted to argue about semantics. Strangely, I still felt no need to tell her about the real reason for my long absence. She didn't feel the need to ask, why should I feel the need to tell?

That was how it all ended. It all boiled down to money and priorities. I saw clearly now that we had been mismatched, and had been for quite a while. The shy unassuming artist (yes, I regarded cooking as a form of art) and his semi-successful lawyer wife. My friends had always been too weird and lazy for her taste. I had perceived hers as stuck up, shallow and greedy.

Money had been the source of endless debates, for years. It didn't matter that I needed even less than I earned. It didn't matter that we lacked nothing, that she could live in the house she wanted and drive the car she wanted. No, she always wanted me to provide things for her instead of earning them herself, never seeing that those things just didn't matter to me.

Despite the ugly way she had handled it, I tried to see it from her point of view. She came from a family of status-driven dominant men and loving, but subordinate, wives. Her parents frowned upon my lack of ambition, her friends constantly tried to embarrass her about it and for years I had stubbornly refused to yield and blend in. It didn't change the fact that her behavior, and maybe even she as a person, was ugly as hell, but the basic problem was that we had grown hopelessly apart.

No one felt the need to contribute anything further to the conversation, so I took a few seconds to think about what we had been like at the beginning. I was reasonably sure that things had been completely different back then. Our love was, or had seemed, deep and unencumbered by things like money or ambition. The change was too gradual to notice. No, that wasn't true. I had just managed to overlook it; maybe I never even took it seriously. The rift between us had been widening for quite some time.

I sighed. Yes, it was over. I felt betrayed by the way she had handled it, but I also felt strangely relieved. I saw her for who she was, now. I felt free. I felt self-confident. I felt a slight irritation that I had chosen to endure this person for so long. Maybe I had been turned into a different man in the jungle, as painful as the process might have been.

"Simon, Philipp is a good man and he virtually rescued me after you abandoned me without a word. He made me forget that whole horrible situation. He has asked me to marry him, and I've said yes."

I half listened to her continued rant about the hard time she'd had and how happy Philipp made her, but to my amazement, she still didn't ask what had happened to me.

"Why didn't you contact the authorities about me vanishing down there?"

"What? Vanishing? No, I won't let you spin it like that. We both know that we had problems before you left. Our marriage was already hanging by a thread. There was no prospect of you manning up and amounting to something. You just wanted to get out, and that's what you got. Live with the consequences of your decisions for once. Grow up, Simon!"

To my amazement, she had changed to full attack mode. Who was this woman? "It was you who wanted a time-out. Now you come back and start to accuse me? Get out of here, you bastard."

I was a bit shocked. This was the woman I had married. What kind of man would want to do that? Even Philipp seemed to look a bit thoughtful, now.

"Where are my clothes?" I asked, managing to remain calm.

"I packed them in boxes and kept them in the garage for a while, but I dumped everything after a few months. It seemed like you'd never come back and we needed the space for the new lawn mower. There is one box with documents and photos left, though."

"You got over me awfully quickly, I have to say." To be honest, I had gotten over her within a few minutes, it seemed. I still felt a bit betrayed; I didn't deserve this welcome after having gone through hell.

"You see, I finally have the life I always wanted. Philipp has a good job as an insurance agent. I still earn more than he does, but his business might grow in time. I don't have to make up stories about my man when I see my friends now. 'My husband is a cook.' I will never have to say that again in my whole life."

I just nodded, stood up and left to pick up my box from the garage. Nothing else needed to be said, which was the only thing on which we seemed to agree.

Again, I stood in front of a house, unsure how to proceed. I had memorized the address Victor had given me and was quite certain I was at the right place, but the mansion sitting on the small hill in front of me was surprising and a bit intimidating.

While Christine's house was less ostentatious than she wanted, this thing was huge and looked like it came fresh from an architectural magazine. I hadn't enjoyed dealing with people in Christine's social stratum, but whoever lived here was in a completely different league. This thing screamed "serious money," and I felt no desire to meet its inhabitants.

Still, I had promised Victor. This was like fulfilling the last wish of a dying man. This was a matter of honor.

With renewed resolve, I approached the door and rang the bell.

Christine, in her upper middle-class world, had always answered the door in flawless business attire with a stiff upper lip attitude. This door was opened by a sweating, but nicely smiling woman in casual sportswear. I had obviously interrupted her workout.

"Hello," she said with a friendly, disarming smile. "How can I help you?"

Wow.

'Victor, you lucky bastard'. She was too relaxed to not be the owner; she was scorching hot and obviously filthy rich. How on Earth could she be that friendly? In the unlikely case that such a woman existed, it made sense that Victor, the guy always rolling sixes, would be the one to get her.

I cleared my throat, unsure how to begin. I became painfully aware that I had prepared no script for this talk.

"Umm, I'm Simon. I'm a friend of Victor's."

"Ah, I see. I'm Juliette," she said while extending her hand. Her friendly attitude didn't change much, but it felt like a cloud had passed over her face as I mentioned his name. She was obviously not surprised to hear from him and she didn't seem overly happy or curious. I couldn't decipher her behavior. "Come in, please."

To call this house luxurious would have been a gross understatement, but its owner was moving around in a total relaxed and unassuming way. It was as if she didn't see or refused to acknowledge her status.

"So, you're a friend of Victor's?" she asked after she had fetched us each a drink.

"Yes, I think I am."

"You were in prison with him?"

"What? You know about that?"

"Yes, but can we save that for later, please?"

"Okay. Yes, I met him in prison. In fact, he joined me after I had already been in there for a while."

She looked at me as if she suddenly understood something; I had no idea what. Victor had given me the task of contacting his wife and that's what I had done. Since she seemed to be perfectly aware of his situation, my visit seemed a bit pointless and I had no idea what to say next. It would have felt strange to leave so soon, though, so I tried to make conversation.

"Juliette, may I ask what Victor did to wind up in that hellhole? I mean, you aren't exactly poor. I mean... I don't know... You see, I was a backpacker down there and that's always a bit dangerous, but this..." I looked at the house around us. "This seems more like 5-star luxury travel territory."

She laughed, but it didn't seem to be a happy laugh.

"Simon, things are not always as they seem. My marriage has always been, let's say, complicated."

She looked at me to see whether I was interested in hearing more. I was and nodded my head, encouragingly.

"Simon, I've always been rich. I'm one of those silver spoon trust fund babies. Money has never mattered in my life; it was always just there. Unfortunately, my parents were always cold and distant, and they both died when I was a teenager. So, economically, I lacked nothing, but I was starved for affection."

She still might be, I thought. I had already noticed that she was looking at me in an oddly intense way. I had the impression of a strong woman with glaring gaps in her defenses.

"I'm good at handling money, always have been. What my parents lacked in emotion, they made up in business acumen. The company I inherited is profitable and easy to lead. I've always had money, yet I seemed to be aimlessly stumbling through life until I met Victor.

"In the beginning, he was my anchor. You know what he looks like. Women feel safe and protected in his company. He presented himself as a successful businessman, and I never pushed him for details. That was not an issue for me, but it turned out to be one for him.

"I soon learned that he had lied about... well, about almost everything. He was piss-poor and managed to fake a luxurious lifestyle by borrowing money and paying it off by borrowing more from others, almost like a Ponzi scheme. He didn't need to do that, at least for me. I had plenty of money for a lifetime or ten and never had a problem sharing it with him."

I felt slightly uncomfortable; I didn't want to hear such embarrassing details about my friend's life.

"You can imagine how angry I was when I found out. I can't hold a grudge for long, though, and he seemed very contrite. So, I forgave him and was willing to start over. I paid off his debts, naïvely expecting him to be happy when I surprised him with that news. Boy, was I ever wrong.

"He practically exploded. How dare I meddle with his life? He called me a domineering and manipulative bitch. He accused me of being arrogant because of my own wealth, not being able to accept a strong man at my side. He told me that he had never been so humiliated in his whole life.

"The resulting cracks in our relationship never completely healed. We stopped seeing each other for a few months. By coincidence, we met again at a party, snapped together like magnets, ended up in the same bed and were together again, just like that.

"He proposed to me shortly afterwards and I accepted. I might be trusting, but I'm not totally dumb. Well, I might be dumb when it comes to people, but not when it comes to money. So, I made him sign a prenup. He smiled while he signed it, being the pretend independent businessman that he was, but it was a forced smile. I knew that he hated it, but I had to insist on it.

"Some aspects of our marriage were pure heaven, but the foundation had always been shaky. Victor could have had a dream life if he had just been able to swallow his pride and take my money. He did that from time to time, when he was out of choices, but he hated doing it, and resented me more each time it happened. I never made a fuss about it. Whenever he asked, I gave him what he needed as unobtrusively as possible. He took it with a fake smile, but always managed to find a cause for a major argument shortly afterwards. For that reason, I began to dread giving him money. Not because it would hurt me financially, but because of the argument I knew was coming.

"Victor wasn't stupid. He sensed that money was the cause of our problems, and began to come up with even more harebrained and risky business ideas to free himself of what he saw as a gilded cage. At first, he discussed those ideas with me, but I managed to convince him to stay away from them. Then he complained that I was holding him back and he stopped talking about money at all.

"That was when he started to stay away from home for days, presumably to take care of his fledgling business. I suspected that it was all just hot air, so he had to be spending the time on something else. That was when I started to suspect that he was cheating on me."

I looked at this strong but vulnerable woman I'd just met who was unburdening her heart to me. She had the deep need to confide in someone, to trust someone. This woman was obviously almost defenseless in the right situations, bordering on naïveté. She seemed to crave someone to listen to her heart, as her parents never had. I could see that Vic wasn't that person and never would be. His weaknesses and hers were a terrible combination.

"I hope I'm not boring you to tears, Simon, but it feels good to talk about this to someone. Maybe it's you because you're one of the few people who's had a glimpse of the true Victor."

"No, no, that's fine." And it was. In fact, I found her interesting, and watching this beautiful woman talk wasn't exactly the most unpleasant thing to do. I had never enjoyed being at the receiving end of a monologue as much.

"Good," she said, smiling. She still wasn't styled, her hair was tousled after her workout, yet she was totally irresistible without even noticing it. "At that point neither of us trusted the other. He thought that I turned his ideas down to keep him under my thumb and I thought he was cheating on me. You can imagine how our marriage went downhill from there. He felt dominated, I didn't trust him, and we were both mistaken. What could possibly go wrong?"

She laughed bitterly.

"Maybe our marriage would have survived if I had just given him enough money to pursue his idiotic ideas instead of bailing him out after something had already gone wrong. It might have cost me a bundle, and it never would have been a great marriage, but we'd still have something. For better or worse, you know?"

She looked out of the window, her eyes unfocused, obviously deeply in thought. "He never understood how much I truly wanted him to succeed. I really would have given everything I had for that to happen, but I know business, and I know money. He doesn't. His ideas went from bad to worse, and even the best of them were doomed. Should I have encouraged him? Told him his plans would work when I knew very well they would crash and burn? I guess I'll never know."

Damn. Victor was my friend. He had saved my life. Could I really share something he had told me in confidence? On the other hand, could I live with myself if I kept it a secret from this lovely, vulnerable woman, who had trusted and loved him? Could I sit there, watching her torment herself with self-accusation? No. Victor had done this and she deserved to know.

"Ah, Juliette?"

"Hmm?"

"I feel like you should know. This is difficult for me, as Victor told me in confidence."

"So he did actually cheat on me?"

Holy cow, she was definitely not the dimmest candle on the cake.

"I'm afraid he did."

She nodded her head and continued to stare out of the window, strangely unaffected by the revelation.

"Just once?" she asked after a while and looked at me again.

I just shook my head, barely moving. I just hoped she wouldn't ask for a specific number.

"It doesn't matter, anyway, does it?" she asked sadly.

I shrugged my shoulders, not knowing what else to do. I still liked Vic, but he really could be an asshole at times.

"You know what? It's actually better this way."

"Really?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes. I can close this chapter for good now." Suddenly, her posture was more erect. "Hey, I haven't even asked if you'd like another drink. I'm sorry, I'm a terrible hostess."

"Ah..."

"Why don't we light the fireplace, I'll make us a few nice Cappuccinos and you tell me about your big adventure? I'm really curious about that. Why did you go there? What happened? What is life like in a third world prison? Just wait a minute, I'll be back soon. Make yourself right at home, okay?"

"Ah, okay," I answered, surprised by the sudden change in her attitude.

Wow. I had just met this woman, yet she was interested in my history, while my ex-wife couldn't be bothered to give a single damn about it.

For the first time, I told someone the whole story, including my backpacking trip, my arrest, my time in prison and my less than glorious return home, the end of my marriage. Having a woman being genuinely interested in what I had to say was something I hadn't experienced in quite a spell.

"For a rich woman, you seem awfully sympathetic," I couldn't help but remark.

She looked at me, surprised and obviously not pleased.

"I mean..." I hastily added, but couldn't think of anything to get myself out of the hole I'd just dug.

"You think that all wealthy people are assholes? No, wait, you think that all rich women are bitches?" She sounded thoughtful, not angry, to my relief. "It seems you have met the wrong people." She was offering me a way out, thank God. I jumped all over it.

"To be honest, I have never met any truly rich people, at all. I know quite a few people for whom money seems to be the first priority in life, like my ex and her friends. She isn't exactly rich, but she earns good money. Well, you probably wouldn't think so," I stuttered, realizing that I babbling nonsense.

"There must have been something, Simon. Otherwise, you wouldn't have married her."

"Of course, you're right. I'm just a bit bitter right now. She actually has quite a few good qualities." To be honest, it was difficult to think of any just then.

"You just can't think of any right now?" She smiled as she read my mind.

"Of course, we loved each other like mad in the beginning. She was a law student back then, I worked as a cook. We never had any money and it never mattered in the least." This trip back on memory lane still affected me, to my surprise. I remembered how good life had been back then; how uncomplicated it all was.

"Things changed when she graduated. She was a good lawyer, still is, and got a well-paid job immediately. We suddenly spent a lot less time together, we hardly had any sex anymore. Our whole relationship changed; the intimacy was gone. No, intimacy might be the wrong word. Closeness, the closeness was gone. We both noticed this, but while I tried to improve things, she didn't seem to care. Her priorities had changed. It wasn't that she suddenly disliked me, she probably didn't even stop loving me until later, but there were other things on her mind.