The Seven Deadly Sins: Sloth

Jane stumbled, but her eyes never left the obviously broken man.

It was Dave.

Jane's treacherous feet kept to her routine, and she entered the downhill run automatically. It was a good seventy-five metres later she overruled them, stopped, turned, and stared. Overwhelming feelings of guilt washed over her and nearly made her knees buckle. In an instant, she knew Peter, and, admittedly, her plan, was working too well. Stabbed in the back by the person who was supposed to be covering it; business paralysed by superior legal footwork; shorn of contact with his children, his reason to be, and his emotional support network; Dave had given up. Resorted to the oblivion of alcohol, and with no money or place to stay, joined that section of society who were no longer part of it. Jane staggered to the closest bench and fell onto it, devastated at what she'd done to a good man, whose only failing had been to be pressured into starting a business at exactly the wrong economic time.

Jane's thoughts were too painful to remember. She continued to stare until a large, rough looking man went up to the bench Dave was on. Words were exchanged, and Dave picked up his bottle and belongings and shuffled to the top entrance before disappearing. Jane sat a while longer until she had the strength to move, then walked home in a daze.

She was sitting silently when the children came home. They ignored her as they'd done for weeks now. She was still sitting at the kitchen table when Peter came home. He stopped, looking around the room, noting the absence of signs of dinner being prepped. Normally, he'd only have time to change into casual clothes before it was served. Jane's devastation was written across her features like a neon sign. Peter did the only thing he could think of - he wrapped her in his arms and gently asked what was going on. Jane broke down and it was twenty minutes or more before he had enough of the story to make sense.

He re-doubled his hugs, doing what he knew Jane, or any woman for that matter, would expect, but inside was triumphant. As a competitive businessman, he didn't just want his opposition to suffer; he wanted them to haemorrhage. Besides, for him, his ideal scenario for Jane and her children was to never have any contact with the ex ever again. Things were turning out better than he hoped. If Jane came to accept her husband as a loser now, then the idea that he'd always been a loser became much more believable, an easier step to take.

Peter ordered take-out to feed the children, then took Jane to bed to console her. When she stopped sniffling, he fell asleep after a busy day. Jane, however, had a sleepless night. The internal arguments swung wildly. Her conscience thought she should abandon her plans of a comfortable life with Peter and take Dave back. That would make her feel better in the short term and gain her the kid's forgiveness. But what were the odds of Dave fully forgiving her? Even an attempt to reconcile with Dave, though, would burn the bridge with Peter, and she had her heart set on a life of luxury. She'd known Dave would be hurt but had no inkling it would cause the devastation she'd witnessed today..., yesterday..., whatever.

Despite the risks, the loss of her dream life, she was stealing herself to back out of her plan, until the evil hour of 3:00 a.m., or thereabouts. That's when the subliminal messages from Peter started working their evil magic. How strong was David when he never lifted a finger to fight for her? He fell at the first fence. Gave up totally. Did less to defend himself and his family than a sloth would have. Thoughts of Dave already being mentally exhausted after five years of long hours, fighting for his business before having to deal with the napalm attack of his wife betraying him in the cruellest way, tried to get through to her, but were beaten back when she started daydreaming about her life in the mansion with beautiful clothes and sleek cars. Yes, she'd done the best thing for her children and herself. Dave would get over it. If she'd been able to fully convince herself of that, she may have slept. She didn't.

Instead, she leapt out of bed with a plan. She gathered her copy of all the legal documents contained in the packet Dave had been given and put them in her bag before making breakfast for everyone. Peter, convinced by her false smile, departed for his office. The children left to catch the bus to school with barely a nod. Jane didn't allow their coolness to dampen her resolve.

At 9:00 a.m., after a stiff whisky, she gathered all the papers from her bag, steeled her nerves, and headed to the park. Once she explained to Dave that he could still access money to live on and run the business, and that he would see the kids as often as he wanted after the custody case, then he would go back to normal. She took the application forms and was prepared to take as long as it took to show him how to fill them out.

The problem was, where was he? She crossed the road and walked through the sparse trees to the circuit track. There were two homeless men in the top corner, but neither was Dave. She used the elevation to scan what she could see of the rest of the park but saw nothing relevant. She eyed the bushes against the wall, where she suspected they all slept but when she started sidling toward the denser thicket, the two hobos interposed themselves between her and it. She did one lap of the streets bordering the park, looking down side streets with no luck. Returning to the park, she did a slow circuit, peering into the bushes and every patch of garden with no result. Frustrated, she crossed the road a hundred metres from her house and headed toward it.

There were three ways into her house. One through the two-car garage, each side with its own roll-a-door. The front door, which was accessed by a path, through a gate near the garage, and the back door which opened toward the clothesline and back lawn. Jane had just placed her hand on the front gate latch when a familiar sound caught her attention. She glanced to see the right-hand roll-a-door of the garage opening. It revealed the open side, where Peter's car was parked when he was home.

Where Dave used to park.

She glanced up the road, expecting to see Peter's BMW heading toward her, but the road was clear. After fully opening, there was a pause before the roll-a-door began descending again. Jane watched as if fascinated. The door stayed shut for perhaps ten seconds, then began to rise again, and still she watched. When it began to close for the second time, Jane dragged her gaze from it and scanned her surroundings. When she looked closer, in the direction of the low sun, she saw him. Dave was standing among the trees, staring at his old house; his home of twenty years; the remote opener for the garage in one bemittened hand.

Jane would remember it as one of the most difficult things she'd ever had to do in her life as she approached her partner of two decades. Dave looked even worse than he had the day before. There was a fresh bruise on his other cheek, tears in both hollow, staring eyes. The knowledge that she'd caused this devastation was crippling. Jane stopped beside him and tried to speak for several seconds, but the knowledge that this piece of human waste had once been a proud man less than a month ago, sucked all the air from her.

Finally, Jane gathered herself and launched into some semblance of the speech she'd been preparing for since four in the morning.

"Dave, you don't have to live like this. You can get money to eat and somewhere to live, even to run the business. You just have to fill in these forms here," Jane said, waving an envelope. "And lodge them with the court. Here, see, I've filled out some of them for you." Jane reached into the envelope, partially extracting a small sheaf of papers, and turned them to face Dave. He didn't look at them.

"I know it must be hard for you not seeing the kids every day like you're used to; I tried to get Peter to not do that; stop you seeing them until the custody case that is, but his lawyers insisted. You can have the house back when we move to Pete's place, I didn't know it was going to take three months, honestly."

Jane was aware she was babbling, but just couldn't stop. The effect on Dave was..., nothing. His face remained expressionless, and his only body movement was the twitch of his hand that sent the garage door up and down. Jane stuttered to silence, her hand on autopilot as she continued to wave the court forms. Her conscience hammered her fatigued brain like an eagle trying to break open a tortoise. Her mind, bereft of sleep for over thirty hours, haunted by bad dreams for several weeks before that, took action to try to absolve herself of at least some of the blame.

"God damn it, Dave! Why didn't you fight for me? The restraining order was against you coming near the house and the kids only. Not me. You could have confronted me away from the house and at least tried to talk me out of it. You could have cornered Peter and at least threatened to beat him up for sleeping with your wife for the last six months. You could have gone to court and tried to get that phoney restraining order revoked. Why did you just give in and do absolutely nothing? Why, Dave?"

Jane had moved during her tirade and was now standing red-faced, right in front of Dave, her stance and tone challenging. Apart from lowering the garage remote to his side, there wasn't much movement from him. He continued to stare through her towards his former home. This close, Jane could clearly see how grimy he was, and her nose confirmed he'd given up washing some time ago. She couldn't help the tears streaming down her cheeks as the cause of his breakdown was startlingly, obviously her.

She was about to turn and run away from the catalyst of horror in front of her when he spoke. His eyes remained unfocused, and his voice was flat and monotonous, barely above a whisper. With none of the usual inflections on some of the words, the meaning was a little hard to understand at times and she had to concentrate.

"So, that's it, is it? No excuses, no apologies, no reason, no justifications. Just rubbing my nose in the fact you've been humping the slimy old cunt for months, presumably for his money, judging by the car he drives and the suit he wears."

Dave lapsed into a silence which hurt Jane far worse than the words. She spoke to fill the screaming silence.

"I'm sorry, Dave. I had to sleep with him, or he wouldn't have hung around. I never brought him into our house, though. Well, before this you were served anyway. Just take the forms, please. Get some food, get somewhere to live. Try to keep the business going. It'll all go back to normal soon. You'll get the house back. Despite what Peter wants, I'll let you see the kids more than one weekend every month, you'll see. Stop being so apathetic, so...." The words that came into Jane's mind was slothful. Lazy. She bit her tongue on them. "Just look after yourself. Please."

Jane stopped and just stood there, panting. After seconds of silence, she just couldn't stand to look at that battered, filthy, gaunt face before her any longer. She half turned away. That finally prompted a response as Dave spoke again in his quiet, dead voice. Again, she had to strain to hear.

"Tell me, wife, do you have to apply to the courts for money for food? Do you have to fight for the right to search certain garbage cans just in case someone has thrown half a burger in it? Do you get to eat hot food only twice a week, as that's all the local soup kitchen can afford to offer the poor and the homeless?

"Do you have to find a sheltered bush to spread a blanket out to sleep every night, hoping and praying it won't rain? Do you have anyone to share your blanket?

"Can you see your children whenever you like? Or do you have to stand here every morning, hiding, just to catch a glimpse of them? Oh, and by the way, the wife stealing cunt's lawyers can't insist you don't let me see the kids, they can only suggest. Ultimately, it was your decision to gut me like this."

Jane knew this, and the knowledge was tearing her apart. How she wished Dave had just screamed and abused her when all this went down, totally ignoring the fact that she'd had the restraining order placed on him and hidden herself behind locked doors. She could no longer fight the urge to turn and run. She clumsily stuffed the court papers in the large pocket at the side of Dave's greatcoat and bolted.

"Stay here, Dave, I'll bring you some food and some money."

As she ran across the road to get some food, she determined she would stand up to Peter to insist he must allow Dave to see his children. Now! She gathered what she could out of the fridge, putting it in a reusable shopping bag. However, as soon as she reached the front gate, she could see Dave was gone. The only trace was the court papers swirling around in the breeze like oversized pieces of confetti.

Jane turned and slowly made her way back up the path. It took her all day to bury the guilt raked up by Dave's simple questions, but she managed it. By the time the children returned home, she was back to cursing him for being so mentally slothful, by just giving in at the first hurdle.

After only perfunctory interaction with their mother, the children dressed and followed their new normal habit of going out until dinner time. Yawning her exhaustion, Jane cooked the evening meal. She didn't say a word to Peter about her day. He would not be happy to know she'd initiated unsupervised contact with her ex. Jane went to bed well before Peter and slept fitfully.

Friday, Jane spent all day buying two new bikinis, and that night, after the children were in bed, decided to model them for Peter. He'd felt tired when he first arrived home but at the thought of the show Jane had whispered she had in store for him he'd revived. He lay on the bed stroking his cock while she strutted in front of him. His excitement excited her, it was an effort of will to go into the bathroom and put the second set on, which was even skimpier than the first. That, along with the tease show, caused Peter to ejaculate on his own hand. Suppressing a giggle, Jane warmed a hand towel to clean him. Job done, she turned the lights off before sliding into bed.

She grabbed the now flaccid cock, trying to massage some life back into it, impatient, as her own heat had risen to match Peter's during the erotic show. In the near silence, Jane thought she heard an unusual sound. Pausing all movement, she strained her ears, hoping and praying it was just her imagination. Silence. She had just relaxed again when her ears confirmed the horrendous sound her subconscious had picked up. In her mind, it screamed with the noise of a jumbo jet taking off, but in reality, must have been just loud enough for her to hear, but beyond the range of Peter's older ears.

Her excitement disappeared instantly as her mind froze. She dropped the still flaccid cock from her hand like it was on fire. The justifications and burials of the previous day were swept away like dead leaves in front of an armoured attack. Her mind retained just enough control that she screamed into her own head rather than into the near silent house. Big fat tears fell in cascades down her cheeks, but she could only allow herself the luxury of quiet sobs after she heard her bed partner's soft snores. That, at least, masked the heart-wrenching sound and saved her an explanation.

Outside, in the rapidly chilling autumn night, the garage roll-a-door lowered for the final time.

CHAPTER 2

It was another sleepless night for Jane as once again her conscience came under assault from her actions. Again, her options swung wildly around the spectrum. Should she call the police and tell them about the garage door opening; clear evidence Dave was stalking her? At least in gaol he would get three meals a day. No, she couldn't do that. By dawn, another compromise plan was the decision.

Although not specifically mentioned by Dave yesterday, she knew his biggest stressor had to be not seeing his children. If she could change that, then he might recover to the point, in the short term, that once the dust had settled, he could make a full comeback. Seeing his children meant lifting the restraining order, but how could she convince Peter to allow that without revealing her secret mission of Thursday?

Saturday morning, she woke Peter at 7:00 a.m. and laid it on thick about allowing Dave access to his children. It fell on deaf ears. Peter quickly put a stop to the conversation with a sneer at his rival's weakness, his apathy and lack of guts. He refused to be swayed from the plan. Giving up, Jane snuck away to quietly arrange for the garage door openers to be reprogrammed. How she looked forward to Monday when she and Peter were scheduled to leave on their break, and she could fully relax.

Jane left at 10:00 a.m. to pick her parents up from the airport. Peter stayed behind to remove his presence from the house. He was going to stay at his house for the next couple of nights. After picking them up and engaging in the usual chitchat about their flight, she stopped at a coffee shop she was familiar with for an extended explanation of her marriage. She didn't want to be behind the wheel for it.

This was where Dave doing a disappearing act would work in her favour. The official story was well-rehearsed; Jane having told it to various friends over the previous weeks. On being informed that Jane wanted a separation, Dave spat the dummy and disappeared, abandoning her and the children. She'd wanted it to be a gentle split, out of respect for all their years together, but it wasn't to be.

She asked them to please not talk to the children about it as it was a very sore subject for them. Luckily, the children didn't know the full details of the ambush on their father and the extent of her relationship with Peter before the split. The story to her parents regarding Peter needed no tweaking; a friendship that had grown stronger in the turmoil of the separation. Her parents were still disappointed but accepted that people drifted apart. They did comment that it wasn't like Dave to run out on his responsibilities, though, and didn't seem convinced when Jane told them he was a victim of his own sloth.

The kids were pleased to see their grandparents and acted as good conversation moderators when Jane's parents met Peter that night. They were cautious toward him; they had genuinely liked Dave. Jane and her mum talked for an hour after the children went to bed. Her mother expressed surprise that her daughter wasn't showing more distress at the split. Spooked by her mother's words, Jane bugged out as soon as was polite. Lying to her mother was extremely uncomfortable. And her mother knew her too well. Jane feared her mum would see right through her if she had to spend even one more minute with her. She once again found sleep elusive, despite her exhaustion.

At breakfast the next morning, Jane's father remarked that he'd been woken at about 4:00 a.m. by the garage door opening and closing, seemingly on its own. Jane told him it had been doing that for a few days and a guy would be turning up on Tuesday to fix it. She was quietly terrified. If Dave was watching the house, then he might know her parents were visiting. If he came over sometime in the next week, her story was blown. She felt torn. She desperately needed the break but, at the same time, was fearful of leaving her parents and the children unsupervised. Just one more thing to weigh down her overloaded mind as she transitioned to the life she deserved.

Just before lunch on the Monday, Peter turned up in a chauffeur-driven limo; they'd agreed to start showing her parents the advantages of his wealth. The plane they flew to Thailand in wasn't Peter's, but he had chartered a Lear for the trip. Besides the two pilots, they were the only passengers. Jane was asleep before they hit cruising altitude; joining the mile-high club wasn't even an option. Peter woke her in time to fill in the immigration card, which she completed just as the plane's wheels thumped onto the tarmac of Phuket. After the limo ride to the luxurious bungalow in the private resort that Peter had borrowed from a friend, there was time only for a long shower before dining out. Peter pressed Jane hard for the reasons for her strange behaviour and sleepiness. Jane felt guilty hiding the truth from him.