The Art of Divorce

"We have one more item up for bids tonight," he said, "One that even Manda, doesn't know about."

"I'd like you all to take a look at the screens around the room," he said.

As we watched a video played, it showed a room, and in the room you could clearly see the paintings mounted on easels, as if they were being worked on.

Raphe came into the room, and saw the paintings; you could see the pain and shock on his face as he looked from painting to painting. I knew that it had to be the day that he'd caught Smith with his hand up my dress, because I recognized, the same look he'd had then. Next you could see Raphe grab an open can of paint and throw it at the canvass.

You could hear him scream as he did it again, and then collapsed onto the floor. Then you saw Amanda come into the room and not even look at the paintings, at her work. She looked only at the man in front of her, and how she could ease his pain. Everyone in the room gasped as she handed him another can of paint and painted towards the work she'd put her heart and soul into. Raphe threw can after can at the paintings and she just handed him more paint until he was spent. Then she sat down next to him and started caressing his head. Then the video stopped, and Raphe said "This is actual security camera footage of the creation of these paintings."

"It is art in itself," he said, "There is only one copy, and it will not be reproduced."

"It would make a great addition to the collection of someone who already has one or more of the paintings," he continued, "But it would also make a great stand-alone piece."

The video went for 2 million dollars to the guy that bought the painting of Raphe.

Amanda re-took the podium, and the army of little people in suits rose as well.

"We now have special gifts for some very special people," said Amanda.

A snappy looking woman stepped up to the podium and said "Kathy Jenkins."

I was far too shocked by the events of the night to react, so someone pointed me out to her. She stepped in front of me, and handed me the envelope.

"You've been served," she said.

Another person called out Smith's name, and did the same thing.

Then my name was called again, and so it went.

Raphe was divorcing me, on the grounds of infidelity. He was also suing Smith for alienation of affection leading to the break-up of our marriage. And he was suing the Benson Agency for not enforcing their non fraternization clauses.

Smith's wife was doing the same thing to him, and to me, but she wasn't suing the firm. She was a Benson. She was part of the family. When she married Smith, he had taken her name. He was not truly a Benson. Under the terms of his divorce he even had to go back to his original last name. She also had an iron clad pre-nup. He would be penniless, homeless and jobless. He didn't even own his car.

Raphe had filed for divorce as soon as he found out about Smith and me. That was long before I thought it was. As such I would not get a penny of his earnings tonight from the art auction. I would get basically half of our assets before he filed which would amount to nothing. I'd get half of whatever he sold his truck for if he sold it. Or he could just give me half of its value, which would be pocket change to him now.

I sat there crying as I looked at the contents of the envelope and saw photo after photo of Smith fondling me, or fucking me. The worst was the one of his dick unloading one thin line of come in my face, as I just sat there with an unreadable expression on my face.

I tried for the next few weeks to get Raphe to talk to me. He refused. His lawyers made it clear to me that if I fought the divorce, even though they couldn't do so legally, they'd release all of the pictures and videos that they had, not only on the internet, but they'd mail a copy of the file to every person in my hometown, including my parents. I signed the papers. I thought that I could talk to Raphe when he came to the house for the rest of his stuff, but he never did. I did see him and that little French homewrecker a lot, they were all over TVand in lots of magazines and newspapers. Raphe was living the life I'd always wanted and more, only without me.

I sank into a long depression and stayed there until my money ran out. Then I decided to do the only thing I could do, go home. I called my dad, and he was cold to me on the phone. It turned out that Raphe's lawyers never needed to release the files. The art show had been shown on TV worldwide. Clips of it were all over the internet. Of course the photos of Smith and I hadn't been seen but everyone knew the story. I'd never be able to show my face anywhere again.

Raphe being true to himself had gone home and told both sets of our parents the story and the reason for our divorce, to break the shock to them before it became worldwide news. His parents loved Amanda, far more than they'd ever loved me. Even my parents liked her. Last I heard Amanda was pregnant, and they had rented a boat and were slowly sailing around Europe before getting ready for their next big art sale. It was going to be her last because Amanda had finally found what she'd been looking for, unfortunately for me, it was my husband.

Well gotta go, my bus is here. Like I said the biggest thing wrong with women, is men. The good ones are hard to find, and the shitty ones are always in your face, pretending to be something that they aren't. As I said most of this really wasn't my fault.

Was it?