Dear reader,
I originally dreamed this story up to participate in the April Fool's Contest, but in reading the requirements for that contest, it doesn't meet all of them. Maybe next year with another one, but I hope you enjoy this one as it is.
SouthernCrossfire did his magic again and turned it into a readable story which I appreciate more than most people can know. If, dear reader, you like to read a proper good story, I suggest that you read one of his.
Thank you, like so many times before, SC.
Before I forget, all likeness to persons, institutions and companies in the story are completely incidental.
Nothing in this story has any relation to reality.
Oh, and of course everything and everybody engaged in any sexual activity is 18 years or older.
______________________
Prologue.
April was sitting at a table in a restaurant. Her three children were with her parents because she needed some time on her own to cool down.
She was more than a little aggravated and very disappointed. Her husband, Paul, had to work the holidays as well. He'd already worked a double shift on Thanksgiving due to that stupid Covid and now three of his colleagues were down with it and her family's holidays were ruined too.
The asshole!
She thought.
The idiot fool, with that stupid job of his. Never at home when I need him, always working. Morning-shifts, evening, and night-shifts. And on top of that; complaining because I took the children to celebrate at my parents.
She was shaken out of her dark reverie by a voice asking, "Is this seat taken?"
April looked up into the eyes of a handsome dark-haired man.
He smiled and went on, "You look like you need some cheering up. Am I correct?"
April nodded. She was a bit taken aback that it was so obvious that a complete stranger noticed.
The stranger seated himself and introduced himself, "My name is Charles Marsh, pleased to meet you."
Almost automatically, without thinking, April replied, "April Fowler."
Charles said, "Now the introductions are out of the way, why are you looking so gloomy?"
====
A few days later.
April was waiting in the park. Charles had asked her out for a walk after she told her tale of woe, complaining about Paul, who was always working and never there for her. He commiserated with her, looked at his watch and, "Oh dear. I need to get back to work. Can we do this again? A stroll in the park maybe?"
At first April was reluctant to go out with a complete stranger but Charles gently insisted and she gave in.
Now she was looking around anxiously, finally spotting him when he came walking in the entrance of the park.
Charles smiled when he noticed April standing nervously at the agreed place. He was late on purpose so he could assess her reaction. On approaching, he took her hand and kissed it, just a little longer than necessary.
"Shall we walk?" he asked. When she didn't object, he took her arm.
====
Two weeks and several meetings later, Charles had accomplished his purpose when they said their goodbyes following their latest rendezvous. By that time, he had April's phone number and address. He knew where she lived and had inveigled himself thoroughly in April's mind.
He waited a bit to let her wonder, perhaps to even miss him a bit. Then the texting began, a gentle hello at first and then, as the days passed, more pleasantries and an occasional compliment as the link he was establishing strengthened.
====
Saturday night, a few weeks later.
Ping. Ping.
April looked at her phone and smiled.
== Hello Beautiful. What are you doing?
== Movie @ Netflix.
== Is he working? AGAIN?
== Yeah. Covid.
== So, he says. And you are handling everything else. He doesn't deserve you.
== Have you called work?
== No. Why?
== Maybe he's busy with other things. I would call if I were you.
== Maybe I'll just do that. I'll come back to you.
One and a half hours later her phone chimed Paul's ringtone. She took the call, "Hi honey."
"You called? Is something wrong? Something with the children?"
April heard Paul's anxiety and felt a little guilty, but he wasn't in his office when she called.
She prodded, "Nothing is wrong, I just needed to hear your voice, but you weren't there."
Relief flooded Paul's voice, "You scared me. I was at the platform, handling a problem with a flight, when they told me over the message system that you called but I didn't have my phone on me."
They talked for a minute and rang off.
== HI, took a while to get him on the phone.
== And did he tell why?
By the end of that chat session the seed of distrust was sown next to the tree of discontent and it was thriving.
======
About three months later.
With a deep sigh of relief Cornelius Paulus Fowler, Paul for short, was carefully maneuvering his RAV4 through the dense traffic at the airport. In 5 minutes, he could take the airport's service road that took him to the motorway and home.
It had been ten grueling ten-hour-long night shifts in which bad weather and Murphy's Law played havoc with the daily operation of the airline he worked for. It was his job to prevent or solve these problems and this time it was seven of the ten shifts that had been touch-and-go. Now he'd finally been relieved by a colleague who had just recovered from Covid so he could go home early for once and enjoy a few days off.
After another quarrel, April, his wife of fifteen years, was staying for the duration with her parents at St. Christopher's Crossing. She'd argued angrily that he was an almost absent father anyhow when he worked night-shifts, so she might as well enjoy some time with her parents. Her father was a retired teacher so homeschooling was no problem.
He was almost dead on his feet when he opened the front door. Paul had slept badly for the last few weeks, mainly because of the stress. April was constantly nagging about everything, his work, his income, their car, and whatnot. It seemed that nothing was deemed good enough anymore.
Yet he earned a very decent salary and was paid handsomely extra for the late and night shifts. It was called inconvenience compensation and there was a promotion on the horizon, though the last he kept to himself; it wasn't in the bag yet.
The house was paid for and both cars were as well. When April became pregnant with their eldest daughter, he had set up a study fund and now it was big enough that all three children could draw on it.
Though Paul had to drive for about 45 minutes to get to his office at the airport, the family lived in a suburb next to a nature preserve. The location wasn't really inconvenient; the city center was easily reachable by public transport.
The house was nice, too, bought by Paul in an auction two years before he met April. It was big enough for the five of them plus there was a spare room because he'd transformed the attic into a spacious room by building a dormer into the roof. Next to that room was also a utility room with the laundry machine and dryer. The house had been constantly upgraded over the years with the last addition being the solar panels.
Paul dumped his bag on the table, went to the kitchen, made himself a sandwich and poured himself a small drink.
An hour later, he collapsed into his bed and went out like a light.
His alarm clock woke Paul from a restless 3-hour long slumber at 11 am. With an effort he hauled himself out of bed. Immediately he sensed the familiar hollow pit in his stomach. His eyes were gritty from fatigue and he felt feverish. Paul knew these symptoms very well. It was akin to jet lag but on steroids and he suffered from it after every stint of night-shifts. Only because now, he worked ten shifts in a row, instead of the usual four, or five, the symptoms hit him with a vengeance. The only remedy was working through it.
Today promised to be a beautiful spring day so he decided to start with a sedate trail run. He made himself a cup of coffee and a light brunch and after eating he slapped some cold water in his face. After donning his running gear, he took off, straight into the woods.
====
Two hours later he was back. Looking at his watch, he thought,
Eleven miles in two hours, not bad, not bad at all.
He was content with that, knowing that he lost one or two miles an hour after night-shifts but his stamina and overall condition were improving. He walked through the door, picked up the mail and went for the shower.
Back from the shower he started lunch, not that he was particularly hungry, the hollow feeling in his stomach was still there, but he had to eat. With a plate in his hand, he remembered to check the mail.
Bill, advertising, trash, what's this?
Paul wondered when he had a thick cream-colored envelope adorned with a gray border.
Someone died?
He opened it. The world went silent and slowly dropped from under his feet when he read the contents.
In Memory of a Marriage.
