Love Letters Ch. 02

"Hello, Claire. Yes, I did change the locks. With our tenth anniversary looming large on the horizon I was doing some soul searching and came to the conclusion I've had enough of pretending to love you just so I can get some regular ass. In truth, it's become boring and too much hard work and so I've decided I'm going to divorce you."

"What?"

Claire's shocked expression was priceless. It took everything I had not to smile with ferocious glee at her bewilderment.

"You heard me. I don't love you. I don't want you, so I'm turfing you out."

"You-you-you can't do that. I don't believe you. I love you. You love me. I-I don't understand. This is my home too."

Her disjointed sentences spoke volumes about her confusion and the part of me that hated her and what she did reveled in it.

"I just finished telling you I don't love you. I've been pretending. And I can kick you to the curb. I just did. Here's the keys to the storage unit where I placed all your stuff. If I've missed anything send me an email and I'll pack it up and leave it out the front here for you."

She accepted the keys, looking down at them as if she'd never seen a key before in her life.

"But-but this is my house too. You can't kick me out. I have just as much right as you to live here."

"True, but if you move in, I'll move out and who's going to finish the renovations then? And I sure as hell won't pay the mortgage on a place I'm not living at so if you really want to live here in an unfinished house, be my guest, but you'll be the one paying the bank loan and for any work done. I won't cough up a cent."

Tears trickled down Claire's cheeks. I hardened my heart and fought against the training of twelve years that urged me to reach out and comfort her. I glanced at my watch, trying to look bland.

"I don't understand, Danny. What's going on? When I left for the spa you said you loved me when you kissed me goodbye. And now... now you want a divorce?"

Her voice shook. She reached for my arm. I pulled away.

"Yes, I want a divorce."

"Why? What's happened to bring this on? Have you met someone? Are you having an affair?"

It took every ounce of self-restraint to breathe normally and keep my expression neutral. My hands literally itched to wrap themselves around her neck and squeeze until not a drop of air remained in her lungs. I wanted to look in her eyes as life left her. She'd killed a part of me, it seemed only fair a part of her die too.

"Nope. No affair. Just bored with you and ready for a change."

"Why, Danny? Why are you being like this? I don't understand how you can so suddenly change. How you can be so cruel. This isn't like you."

I was reaching the limit of my acting ability. I had to end this soon or I'd either murder the bitch or vomit ugly words all over her.

"Look, I'm going out tonight and I'd like to have a shower and change so can we talk about this some other time?"

She stood with her mouth open, tears crawling down her cheeks. Score one to me—she didn't have a clue what was going on.

I let myself back in the house, leaving her standing on the porch in tears. Once inside, I leaned against the wall for support, drained. Christ, this pretending business was exhausting; how had she managed it for twelve years?

# # #

I sat back in my recliner, reading over what I'd written. Thank God for laptops and word processing software—had I been on the old pen and paper gig I'm sure I'd have gone through a ream of paper as I wrote and rewrote the separation notification. Technically, I didn't need to place an advert to register my separation from Claire, but it served my purpose for many reasons.

I, Daniel Jonathon McCormack, born 12 January, 1982, hereby state that as of 21 March, 2017, I have separated from my wife, Claire Elizabeth McCormack, nee Johnson, born 11 November, 1985, due to my discovery of her betrayal of our wedding vows. Namely the one where she promised to forsake all others.

Due to her longstanding affair with a member of my extended family, I will no longer be responsible for any debts incurred by Claire Elizabeth McCormack as of the aforementioned date.

I glanced at the corner of the screen; it was a little after nine and I'd had enough. The notification wasn't that lengthy, less than one hundred words. I should have had it written in a matter of minutes rather than hours. I couldn't decide how much to say and whether to put Zack's name in or not. I'd chopped and changed it so many times I couldn't think straight any more.

I closed the program down, deciding I'd look at it again in the morning with fresh eyes. Placing my laptop on the table beside me, I tossed up whether to put a movie on or go to bed and try and get some sleep. I hadn't made up my mind yet when I heard a knock at the door. Thinking it was Claire back for round two; I dropped my chin to my chest and said a silent prayer for calm and strength.

On my way to the front door I paused in front of the hall mirror to check I had my bland face in place and to set my phone to record mode.

I opened the door. "Look, Claire—Dad? Shaun?"

They smiled at me.

"Good bored face, son."

We all laughed—it felt good. I stood aside and with familiarity of having been many times in my home they made their own way to my kitchen and helped themselves to a beer.

"I see you weren't joking about having done a little un-renovating," observed Shaun as he settled himself at one end of the sofa.

I snorted. "I'm a man of my word. So did Mum send the pair of you over to check up on me?"

"Nope. It was my idea, but Shaun and I aren't here to babysit you. We're here to help you plan a little whoop-ass for Rat-Zack. We figured you'd need a little more payback than a red face for the slimy bastard. Though if your Mum asks, we just played cards and got you drunk."

"Dad, you sly dog!"

"A little white lie to protect her sensibilities does her no harm." He winked at me. "And it does a husband good if he wants a little nooky." Shaun and I chuckled. "Your mum is a good, gentle woman, and I love her dearly, but, like most women, she doesn't understand the way a man's mind works. Women don't get a man's need to keep his, ah, balls." My father shrugged, grinning. "Sometimes a man's got to do what a man's got to do.

# # #

To be continued.

Due to having a demanding full-time job and a family that demands I not spend every non-working moment writing, coupled with a desire to get the next chapter up ASAP I couldn't finish the story with this chapter.

Third and Final Chapter with some "whoop-ass", some justice, and some resolution coming soon.