My wife, or should I say ex-wife, and I probably have one of the most unique postdivorce relationships around. Or at least that's my conclusion based on how most divorces seem to go. For the first ten years of our marriage things were great. Then I made what turned out to be a fatal mistake. Being a firefighter, I thought it would be cool to get my wife a scanner for Christmas to listen to our raid traffic. At first it seemed like a good thing. She could hear when my station house was toned out, and listen to the calls. She seemed to enjoy being able to share in a portion of what I was experiencing. Then IT happened. The IT being a building collapse on a fire I was out on. Three fellow firefighters were killed, and I was missing for nearly thirty minutes before I was pulled from a partially shielded pocket, my sixty minute air pack down to mere minutes. To say it was a close one is a serious understatement, but where I consider it just part of the job it turned the corner into a dark alley for my wife.
She became almost obsessive about listening to the scanner. She became more and more nervous and jumpy. Over the next year she became almost a nervous wreck, losing twenty pounds she didn't really have to lose. I helped set her up with a business to run, a little intimates boutique, something to take up her time so she didn't obsess over my times at work. It didn't really work. She set up a scanner at work and remained consumed with listening for any clue of my activities. Eventually it became too much and I convinced her to get rid of the scanner. But the problems didn't end with the scanner. She became overly possessive and at times almost frantic if I was even slightly late coming home from the station.
In the end we both decided that there were only two solutions. One was for me to find a different vocation, but quite frankly, this is what I'm good at. The other was to no longer live together. After six months of separation we made it permanent. Not that we don't love each other, because we do, though we've both had to deal with the fact that sometimes love isn't enough. I personally, have had a bit of trouble moving on. Getting back in the game, as she puts it. It's been over three years and I have yet to start dating seriously. Oh don't get me wrong, I've gone out on dates, but my heart hasn't really been in looking for a replacement. Maybe someday it will, but not yet, which is something she chides me on almost every time we see each other, which is fairly frequently. We still did favors for each other and even occasionally had lunch together. We were trying hard to make the "friends" thing work without being "lovers". It was harder than one might think, especially after having slipped into "friends with benefits" a time or two.
"Edward! Thank goodness. I so need a favor!"
Sylvia said over the phone.
"I'm so hoping this is a day off!"
"Yeah it is," I answered my ex over the cell phone. Firefighters work strange shifts, twenty-four hours on and forty-eight off. If it's an easy twenty-four it's great. If it's a busy twenty-four it might take you most of the forty-eight to recover. Fortunately the day before had been an easy one.
"Can you come to the store? Pretty please!"
she implored me over the phone.
"Yeah, sure. I suppose I can. What's up?"
"I have an appointment and Janise was supposed to come in and cover for me, but she hasn't shown up and Mindy isn't available. I just need you to cover the store for a little while for me or I'll have to close up,"
she said, in and almost panicked tone.
"Yeah. I can do that I suppose," I said with a sigh, not really fond of being in the store alone, but willing to do it because she asked. "I'll be there in about twenty minutes."
"
Oh you're a life saver, literally! Thanks so much Eddie!"
she gushed over the cell phone.
"Alright. Be there soon," I said clicking it off. I sighed again and put down the bait I had out of the box and closed the box again. I was planning on fishing tomorrow and was getting my gear ready, but I supposed it could wait until after dinner. I climbed out of my boat sitting under the carport, dug out my car keys and climbed into my car. I didn't even bother to change from my workout gear, something I seemed to wear an awful lot anymore. Firefighting is a young man's game, and at forty-five I'm no spring chicken. I have to work a lot harder than the young guys to stay in shape. I might be a station chief, but I still have to be able to do everything the younger guys do. Or at least that's how I figure it.
I walked into the store at a quarter to four, my ex-wife giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before practically running out the front door, shouting that she'll be back "in a couple hours" over her shoulder. I walked to the checkout counter after taking a quick look around the store over the tops of the racks. Fortunately, the store was empty except for the wide assortment of ladies underwear, bras, swimsuits and lingerie.
I'd worked hard to get her set up with this store, though the choice of product was strictly hers. I would have been fine with a knick-knack store or bookstore or anything, but I had to admit that ladies lingerie wasn't my strong suit, though she had made a good go of it. She had what she called a regular clientele as well as a pretty brisk drop-in business around certain holidays. Adding swimwear had significantly increased her revenues during the summer when lingerie seemed to slow down. Being spring, not quite swimsuit weather and past Valentine's Day, I wasn't expecting much traffic in the shop. I found a stool and settled behind the counter to play on my phone while keeping any of the racks of sexy lace from up and starting anything.
The little brass bell over the top of the door jingled as the door opened, a quaint little touch that fell in line with the rest of her "oldies" motif. I could see two women, breasts and up mostly, step into the store, one slightly taller than the other. It didn't take more than a few seconds to decide it was a mother and daughter pair as they approached the counter, the mother a bit fuller figured than her otherwise photo copy daughter. She reached up and pushed a few stray blonde hairs out of her face as she stepped up, the multi-diamond ring on her finger probably costing more than my car.
"Hi. Um. You're certainly not Sylvia," she said, looking me up and down almost like a lion sizing up the meal in front of it.
"No ma'am. I'm just covering for my ex-wife," I answered her. "Can I help you with something?" I asked, hoping that she wasn't expecting me to help her find anything in particular.
"Well, as the old line goes, I'm almost immediately tempted to say yes, but maybe I should look around first," she said as she leaned against the counter, bending over it slightly to get a look at me down below my waist.
"Well, if I can be of any help at all, let me know," I said, making no move to come from behind the counter as she turned and started walking down the aisle directly across from the sales counter. She had on a tight fitting blue dress that hugged her body, including her hips and firm looking ass. She stepped one foot across the other in her high heels, the motion making her butt wiggle dramatically as she wandered slowly down the aisle of lingerie. I saw her daughter roll her eyes and shake her head.
"My mother also has an order that's supposed to be in," the daughter said quietly. "Mrs. Daniels?"
