2021 On The Job
, except this story, is about true love that took thirty-one years to consummate. The first 4400 words tell about the thirty-one years. The last 2900 words represent the first night together with sex, which took place in 2009 when Auto dealers were in big trouble. Sixty percent is fiction, 40 percent is truth.
*****
Another birthday has come and gone for me as I write this story. It's my 55
th,
and another year has passed in my work relationship with Beth. We have worked together at A-1 Toyota in Woodbridge, Connecticut, for thirty-one years, the last twenty-four in the accounting department. I am the comptroller, and Beth is my office manager. Being divorced for nineteen years, which was my second divorce, I haven't dated much during that time frame. I am in love with Beth, and she is in love with me, but she was committed to her marriage, and until very recently, we didn't date or sleep with each other; too many wagging tongues could see us.
Here is some background history for the two of us so you can follow along. My name is William Gordon, born in Poughkeepsie, New York, and I am an only child. When my Parents Harvey and Lois, divorced, I moved to Woodbridge with my Mom, and we lived with her unmarried brother, Ron Rivera. I went to the local Catholic Church, graduated from Amity Regional High School before working for a local construction company.
I worked there for five years until an avoidable accident happened. A wall fell on me, and I had a compound fracture of my right radius and ulna bones. I remember being woken up by a nurse to get my permission to operate. I signed, and they took me to surgery. When I woke up, that same nurse brought the doctor who operated on me back to talk. He told me the surgery went fine, and after rehab on my arm, I would be as good as new in about nine months.
Fourteen months later, my lawyer and I reached a settlement agreement with the company's insurance carrier for $600,000. My lawyer, Arthur DiMaggio, received 25%, and I had $450,000 tax-free in the bank.
I bought a lovely foreclosure property in East Lyme; the house needed lots of TLC, but it was sitting on an elevated twenty-five-acre lot. Then I went job hunting.
That's when my history at A-1 Toyota began as a parts driver. A month after I started at A-1 Toyota, the service manager hired Elizabeth Connors to be the new warranty writer. For me, it was love at first sight. She was six days younger than me, my birthday is Nov 12
th,
and hers is Nov 18
th
. In the beginning, we didn't see or talk to each other very much, but when we did talk, I became even more convinced she was the one.
There was one major problem; she was married. Well, I don't believe in wrecking anyone's marriage, so maybe we can be friends.
With her off the table, I dated, and way too soon, I got married. My first marriage began and ended while I was driving the parts truck and lasted a year, including time dating. The only thing we had in common was the sex; it was fantastic and frequent. She would try anything, anywhere, but when we finished fucking we couldn't agree if we were hungry or not. I mean, if I was a super stud with superhuman recovery, could fuck three hours a day, every day, that left twenty-one hours a day to fill. We had nothing in common, and the divorce was an amicable one that took six months to be final. Right after my divorce, I was promoted to parts counterman. When that happened, Beth and I interacted much more at work. Her warranty area was at the end of the parts counter, and the only way to access the counter area was through a doorway at my end. So we became friends and talked a lot when the day slowed down. Just being able to hear her voice and see her smile at me was enough.
Beth's story was more straightforward, born in New York, raised Catholic, had three sisters and two brothers, her father was in the military, and the family moved a lot. When he retired, the family settled near Fredericksburg, Virginia. She was the third oldest, got married right out of high school, and her first marriage was as equally as weak as mine. Nothing in common with my wife was my reason; hers was a bossy mother-in-law. She couldn't get an annulment, so they divorced, and she moved into an apartment near Dale City, Virginia. Finding a job was easy and a new husband even easier.
While working as a waitress at a popular bar and grill, she met a Lieutenant J.G. in the Navy, Edwin Bolton, who was almost eight years older. She said he is tall, distinguished, and very easy on the eyes. They worked out an agreement that if she married him, he would buy a house near his next duty station and when he deployed, she could stay in the home or follow him if it was allowed. They dated for the next six months, and when he got his orders, they were for Groton, Connecticut, at the Naval Submarine Base New London. She said yes to his marriage proposal, and they were off to a justice of the peace. They bought a house in Waterford and lived there two years before he was assigned to be the weapons officer on an attack submarine, the Philadelphia. That's when she went to work at A-1 Toyota.
So for four years, we shared a workspace, got to be good friends. Eating lunch together, hearing her talk, and staring at her eyes, were my favorite things to do. Then she was promoted to the accounting department to do Accounts Receivable. I wasn't happy being separated from Beth at work. A year later, I was promoted; Accounts Payable in accounting. I was also privileged to be chosen to set up the first auto dealer computer system by Erasmus Systems. There really wasn't anything for me to set up; the computer company did that. I got to make all the phone calls to Erasmus every time the system froze or died.
My second marriage began a year after I moved to the accounting department. Janet and I had similar interests, sports, cooking, and wanting children. I was lonely, and Beth encouraged us to date. She wasn't beautiful but was a good sexual partner, twice a week, anything I wanted. What man wouldn't want that?
Once Beth and I were reunited, working beside each other in the same office, our moods improved. We were a lot more familiar this time with each other's thoughts and life cycles, so our communication was on a different level, through words, touches, and looks left unspoken.
The very first time we crossed the marital line was after Thanksgiving and before Christmas, 1988. She was sitting at her desk; I was standing and looking at a printout on her lap showing data about car sales. I don't remember what kind of data was on the report. As I bent over to get closer, she looked up, and we touched lips, stopped breathing, and both of us gave up pretending we were just co-workers. Her right arm went around my neck as she stood up, the report falling to the floor. My arms circled her waist as we gave in to our carnal urges and went for it. How long did we kiss? Surely only a minute or two, and the fact we weren't caught had to be pure luck.
We went to lunch and talked, and she was adamant, any kiss could never happen again. At this point, we went back from being good friends to just co-workers. Talk about having a good and bad day on the same day.
We returned to work under an uneasy truce and actually were getting a lot of work done, although I was not happy.
The Christmas party was held on the 23
rd
of December and was in the showroom at the dealership. I bought Janet a new dress, and we had a great time. Beth brought her husband, and I talked with Edwin quite a bit. He seemed like a good guy. Janet and I danced, and she danced with Edwin, but Beth avoided me. It was a fabulous party, and I spent time talking to the current comptroller, Henry Collins, and his wife, Linda.
The week between Christmas and New Year's usually was slow, so half the managers were off, including Mr. Collins. Janet worked for a big box retail store in New York City; she was Asst. Manager Returns and Restocking, so I wouldn't see much of her that week. When Beth followed me into our office and wouldn't look into my eyes, I knew nothing would be happening this week.
New Years passed by, and it was 1989, and while I remembered every detail of the kiss, Beth acted like she had forgotten. When conversing about work, Beth rarely looked me in the eyes, usually stopping at my chest. So I tried to bury my feelings and was mostly successful.
The curse started in April 1989, when the service manager, Mr. Johnstone, had a massive heart attack. It didn't kill him, but he never worked again. His assistant, Alex, took over.
On a Saturday in May of 1989, the curse struck again, and my life changed once again. I overheard a conversation outside the kitchen at Janet's parents' house during the Memorial Day cookout. I was kneeling to pull a cooler of ice from under a table to take to Janet's brother at the drink table.
They must have come out the kitchen door as I squatted down because I heard Janet speaking, "Don't worry, Mother. I have everything planned out; we go to the fertility clinic and get tested, find out I can't have children, and after he comforts me, we adopt. But we are adopting only one child, and that's for him. I have never wanted children at all, snotty-nosed brats, but you know this anyway, Mother. You never wanted me, did you?"
"Like mother, like daughter," I said as I stood up. I heard two gasps; Janet got very pale and looked like she was going to pass out. "Well, ladies, there's going to be a change in the master plan. Tomorrow at noon, bring your brother's van, father's pickup, and as many helpers as you need to clear your stuff out of my house."
I walked away slowly and kept moving faster, getting in my car and driving away quickly. When I got home, I called Arthur and left a message asking him to draw up some papers for divorce and show that the house and my investment account were mine before we married.
Our lawyers dueled in the courts, but within ten days, she was out of my house. I never told anyone at work, but the word got out somehow, and now I had to endure looks of pity from my co-workers. I figured Beth knew because she took extra care to avoid me. The year dragged on, my depression grew, and once again, Christmas was here, which meant Christmas Party. This year, I brought no one; all I brought with me was a fake smile. Beth came alone; Edwin was out at sea for six months. I tried to speak to her alone, but she spent the first hour running from me. I told the boss I was leaving, that I felt ill. Then I went home and cried until Christmas Day 1989 was no more.
The following year was quiet, as far as tragedy's go.
1991 would make up for that. I worked New Year's Eve for the office manager, a very nice gray-haired lady named Grace Revere. After I closed up, instead of going home and feeling sorry for myself, I stayed and slept on the couch in Henry's office and was just sad.
Tragedy struck on February 9
th
, 1991, a Friday, when Grace got a phone call at 4:30 and ran crying into Henry's office. They both came out, and he told me to close up for him and Grace tonight. The rumor mill began when a phone call came in from someone who worked in the Emergency Room, and that person called his wife, who sold cars at A-1. Walter Revere had been brought in on a stretcher by the town's rescue squad, while a female EMT was doing chest compressions as she kneeled over his legs.
The funeral was the following Wednesday, and Grace wasn't due back until Monday the 19
th
. When 10:00 passed, and she wasn't in that Monday, Henry called her son and asked him to check on her. Fifteen minutes later, we knew Grace had died in her sleep.
Henry offered me the office manager's job, and I accepted. I was shocked when he told me Grace and her husband were both 71 years of age. She seemed to be much younger.