Cast Your Bread Upon the Waters

One good thing came out of my electronic snooping; it didn't look like they were using our house as a love nest.

One bad thing though, one really bad thing, something that hurt a lot were her text messages. I'm not, nor have I ever been what I'd call an overly sensitive or thin skinned guy. Growing up with two older brothers threw all that out the window, but her texts were painful, they really hurt.

I'd read where the things an errant lover said were seldom truthful. That might or might not be the case, but it didn't matter, the things she said to that Fletcher hurt, they hurt a lot. They were like a knife in my heart; a deep gouging wound through which what was left of my love just oozed away.

~~~~V~~~~

So this takes us back to the night when all this started; it was time to pull the trigger. Like I said I'd talked things over with my lawyer. I wasn't trying to hurt anyone. If Susan wanted the guy with the 'sheepskin' she could have him. I'd move on. I'd be all right. So before I went to bed I left a note on the table. I wanted to get this out of the way before I left for work in the morning.

It didn't happen that way.

I'd been just about ready to drop off to sleep when I heard a car, then saw the lights as Susan pulled in the driveway. I looked out the window; it was Susan, and she wasn't alone.

I slipped a pair of shorts on over my boxers and trudged my way downstairs just in time to see Susan and Ryan Fletcher come in the front. 'Whoa,' I thought, 'what's this?'

Susan saw me and I caught a little bit of a cringe. I also saw Fletcher squeeze her arm; either a gentle reproach or a measure of encouragement I supposed.

Susan looked up at me. I was still on the stairs. She said, "Chase I'm glad you're still awake."

I nodded, "I see you brought a guest."

Susan had the guy's arm by then, "Yes, Ryan and I would like to speak with you."

'Oh my,' I figured, 'the chickens have come home to roost.' I grinned, "We win the lottery or something?"

Susan was delivering her best, and most well-rehearsed look of sincerity, "Chase please come downstairs. We have to talk."

Without a word I slowly climbed down the stairs. Whatever it was, and I kind of knew, I wasn't going to make it any easier than I had to. I got to the bottom, "OK, what is it?"

Susan replied, "Can we go into the kitchen?"

I said, "Sure, why not."

As we walked in I quietly eyed Mr. Ryan Fletcher up and down. He looked like he was expecting something, trouble maybe. I laughed inwardly, he really was clueless.

We got in the kitchen and all sat down. This was their show so I waited.

After a minute or so Susan started, "Chase, I'm...kind of leaving you."

'Gee,' I considered, 'how do you "kind of" leave someone?' I did my absolute very best to keep my face as emotionless as possible. Judging from the looks on their faces I think I succeeded, I responded, "How do you want this to happen?"

Fletcher opened his mouth, "Susan and I thought..."

I interrupted him, "This is between Susan and me right now. When we're finished then the two of you can pack up her things. I'll even help," I looked at Susan, "So how do we do this?"

She looked surprised and hurt when she said, "You didn't have to say that to Ryan. He's only here to help."

Oh I could've said a lot right about then, but I remembered the movie "The Godfather", never let them know what you're thinking. As placidly and as evenly as I could, I said, "You said you were leaving me. I understand. He's here to help. I understand that too. He can help you pack when you and I are done. Now my question again, how do we get this done?"

Susan was on the verge of losing it, and I remembered my discussions with my lawyer. He'd said when the bullet met the bone Susan might crumble, and I might have to push her. "Pride works two ways," he'd said.

Susan said, "I don't really want a divorce. I'd like to be able to..."

I stopped her, it was 'hammer time'. "I do," I said.

She was surprised, "You do. You do what?"

I replied, "I do want a divorce. I've already seen a lawyer. He's drawn up the paperwork. We'll sell the house. We don't have any equity so we'll probably lose money, but I'm willing to cover any losses. About the stuff; most of its used or old. I've got a couple things, and you do too. We can pick the few things we want and either sell or give the rest to Goodwill. About money; if you'll agree to just let me go I'll split what we've saved 60-40, you get the 60."

Susan was dumbstruck, simply lost for words. It was Fletcher who pitched in, "Susan loves you. She doesn't want a divorce. She only wants to be able to see me and maybe go on a few trips."

I ignored him but responded to his remark through Susan, "I said I do want a divorce," then I lied, "I've found someone else. I want to move on with my life."

She looked stricken, absolutely stricken, "You've found someone else?"

I held to my story, "When I found out about the two of you I realized we were through so I moved on. Now Susan will you let me go? Please."

"It's that Ginger McAllister isn't it," was Susan's retort.

I had her. What's the old saying, 'Pride goeth...?' Susan's dander was up. I'd cut her off at the pass. I'd delivered a cut block. Yes, she was back on her heels. My retort? "I'd rather not say."

With the tonality of a cobra Susan hissed, "All right Chase. You've got it. Get your lawyer to send over 'his' papers and I'll sign them. I'll set you free!"

I stood up, "I'll call him first thing in the morning. I'll personally see you get them tomorrow. You'll be at Ryan's I suppose."

Susan, shoulders back, eyes glaring, hackles bristling, answered, "Yes I'll be at Ryan's."

Matter of factly I said, "OK then." I looked at Fletcher, "shall we pack?"

He looked like he'd been hit by lightning. I knew then Susan was screwed. He said, "Well, I guess..."

I said, "Good, come on let's get started," I looked at Susan, "you get your toiletries. Ryan and I will carry out the other stuff."

It went pretty quickly after that. Susan got her perfumes and soaps and packed them in her overnight bag. Ryan and I carried all her clothes down to her car. It was a tight fit but we managed everything in less than an hour. Fully loaded I walked them to her car. He got in the passenger's side. I held the driver's side door while Susan climbed in.

She rolled her window down, "Ryan I'm sorry. You know I do love you."

I played it straight, "I know." I watched as my wife and her boyfriend drove off into the night.

I went upstairs, checked Susan's empty closet, I looked around the room; everything was the same, and nothing was the same. I checked the clock, ten past twelve. I got my phone out and called Jack Slattery; he's one of my workmen, "Jack I won't be in tomorrow. Yeah, Susan and I called it quits tonight so I'll have to handle that tomorrow. Can you take care of things for me?"

He said he was sorry, but also said he'd handle everything. I knew he would.

Was that the end? Well yes and no. Let me explain what happened afterward.

First I spent most of that first night crying. I owed it to myself and to Susan to give myself a good cry, get it out of my system as it were. After all I really had loved her, and I knew, in spite of the circumstances she loved me, but she just didn't have the strength of character to hold herself together.

The next morning I saw my lawyer, his secretary anyway. I got the paperwork, and went to Fletcher's apartment. Susan answered the door. Ryan was still asleep. I guessed she'd be in for a lot of that. I could see she'd been crying too. She didn't even read the documents; she just signed in all the places my lawyer's secretary had highlighted. Fifteen minutes later I walked away essentially a free man.

What happened next? A lot!

I had the house appraised and found it was worth even less than I thought. Rather than put it on the market I saw my parents, got an interest free loan from them, and, after my brothers concurred of course, we wanted no family squabbles, I bought out Susan's half.

I'd agreed to leave Susan on my insurances and to pay for her phone for six months; long enough I figured to give her time to set herself up. Not having read any of the material, she knew none of this. So I got away free and clear.

I poured myself into my work. I worked as hard as I could, and within a short time I was doing better than ever.

Then there was the other thing; I needed to address my social life. I went to see Ginger. Susan had been a terrific babe; brown hair and big brown eyes, great shape, not so great in bed, but fantastic eye candy.

Ginger was a whole 'nuther' matter. Ginger was pretty, for sure, short statured like Susan, red hair, freckles, green eyes, but that's where the comparisons ended. Ginger was as flat as a board, skinny, sticks for legs. Worse, where Susan, for all her philandering at the end, was pretty mild mannered and easy to get along with, Ginger was the exact opposite. I remembered the hot temper, her streaks of downright orneriness, and her proclivity to unexpected violence. One thing I did remember; Ginger, when she'd been with me had flashes of jealousy that bordered on fits of rage. Yeah, I'd never have to worry her pulling a 'Fletcher'.

Did I want to get back into that? The answer? Yes! I realized early on Susan was, if nothing else, boring. Ginger was a fiery volcano always on the verge of eruption; especially, when we were dating, and extra especially when it came to me. In fact, once she realized I'd decided on Susan she almost went after her.

I went to see Ginger. God what a great name for a girl who looked the way she did. I called first. She wasn't real excited to see me, but finally agreed. We set up a date to have dinner. I took her to an Olive Garden.

I picked her up, and man I forgot how gorgeous she could look. Hair in one long braid down her back, big green eyes, pale brown eye shadow, long lashes, small delicate hands, clear nail polish, and the clothes she had on were murderous.

She wore a lime green button up silky looking blouse of some finely woven material that made those tiny breasts seem to just flow, I mean undulate like waves coming in at the beach. I swear she didn't have on a bra, and with the top three buttons undone...well.

The skirt she wore was an equally lightweight pleated thing that came to just mid-thigh. The danged thing just fluttered about around those skinny legs as she walked. Skinny legs wrapped in knee highs, feet encased in penny loafers. Just adorable!

And what a face; heart shaped, tear drop mouth, slightly turned up nose, high cheek bones, with a band of freckles that stretched across that nose and cheeks like a tiny mountain range.

And then she opened her mouth and I fell in love all over again. Oh how could I have forgotten the melodious tonalities of her soft gentle voice? It was like the sound of the morning spring, a song bird, the joyous lyrical song of the nightingale.

She was pretty quiet until we got in and seated in the restaurant. Then she flattened me, "What," she said, "got tired of the bimbo and decided to come to me, come back to second best."

The nightingale had become the hawk. It was great. I loved it. I shot right back at her, "That's about it. Now how about it?"

She verbally punched me right in the heartstrings, "You know I've already been married so you missed out on my cherry."

I remembered, Catholic to the core; I'd gotten no action when we dated. I replied, "That's OK; I'll take sloppy seconds."

She still wasn't done, "No going back this time; in for a penny in for a pound."

I had a comeback, "I'm taking what I can get, even if it is left overs."

Then I got the 'Coup de Grace', yeah, she finished me off, "My first marriage was a runaway," she said, "This time I want to the storybook."

I was ready, "You want to eat first or go pick out a ring."

She was on her feet, laughing, "Come on asshole."

We got married in the fall. Big wedding. Like I said, Catholic, big family, high expectations. I was a Methodist so it didn't matter. She was a beautiful bride; tiny little waif escorted down the aisle by a red haired mountain who himself was beaming like the 'Alexandria Lighthouse'.

I haven't looked back since, not once. Made one mistake; won't make another.

~~~~V~~~~

So what happened to Susan? Well Ryan wanted her. He loved her. He just wouldn't marry her. Poor silly Susan; she tried the oldest and stupidest trick in the book. She went off the pill; thinking if she got pregnant he'd commit. She got pregnant, but he took to the hills. Ginger and I see her from to time. We're not pregnant yet, but we're working on it. Poor Susan, going nowhere with her Psychology degree, she's about five months along, and yeah, working at the Walmart.

I tell everyone; it wasn't my fault. I feel sorry for her, a little bit. She's become her mom.

And me? It looks like the 'happily ever after thing' here. Yes indeedy; life does go on.

~~~~~~V~~~~~~

Hope you had a good time; just a quickie. Vote if you like. What I'd really like is some good feedback; especially about the descriptive aspects of the story.

Thanks

Jedd Clampett