+ + + +
Not sure how, but I not only fell asleep but woke up in time to make my flight. I still had no exit plan. Hopefully she won't die while I'm gone. I'm sure I'll get into some kind of trouble for ruining her plans. My guess is that her employment situation isn't as secure as when she left the office on Friday. Probably screwed myself there as well.
I did the husbandly thing and left messages morning and evening all week long. Each got a little more concerned than the last one. Hell, I even called her parents asking if they'd heard from her.
Problem with all of this is how am I going to get her from the urine and feces soiled linen closet and into my non-existent exit plan?
Every day I worked on it and every day I failed. Using the hotel's business center I researched divorce in my state. I also spent time reading up on crimes and punishment. We have no kids so pretty straight forward on the divorce but the crimes segment wasn't nearly so rosy. Unlawful restraint was almost a certainty for me.
My flight home was uneventful. Thank you butterflies. When I entered the house it was quiet until Irene heard me scooting the bookcase away. She was a bit hoarse and lacking the veracity of her earlier tirades. The door flew open and I got the most hateful look I'd ever seen. On her wobbly legs she rushed towards the stairs and tumbled down them face planting into the coat tree. Out cold.
Finally a plan came into place. Irene had done a respectable job of using the lines to piss and shit into. Very smelly but easily gathered. I'd have to apply lots of cleaning solutions to the carpet. Stuffing everything into a couple of trash bags. I also made sure to find the empty milk and juice containers. After hurrying into the garage to put the trash sacks into my trunk, I called 911 to report Irene out cold at the bottom of the stairs.
The paramedics started her on an IV as she was dehydrated then scurried off to our nearest emergency room.
My story was simple. I came home to find Irene at the bottom of the stairs. She had a concussion and was dehydrated. As is normal, they induced a coma to keep their bills escalating? Beats me. They seemed skeptical about my story, but it was somewhat close to the truth.
On my ride home that night I dropped the trash sacks into one of those squatter clothes drop-off containers. Those are the ones in parking lots when the owners of the parking lots didn't agree to let them be there. Serves them right.
Down in my basement I found a box of 'place and press' carpet squares. We'd tried that once and ended up with too many tiles. After removing the soiled carpet and padding I had more than enough tiles to finish the linen closet. With the enclosed threshold in place you could hardly tell that Irene had vacationed there for five days.
I visited Irene daily, after work of course, until she finally awoke. Did she ever have a story to tell! I was not welcome in her hospital room.
Now unlike some people, I know better than to bullshit the police. But, I can lawyer-up. Which I did.
+ + + +
Epilogue:
There just wasn't enough evidence to prove that Irene had spent a few days in the linen closet. That made her look a bit crazy. There was evidence that I'd sent Brett away from the house that Sunday night which made me look pretty guilty. I sat stoned-faced through my trial. Irene was called to the stand and her friends and parents all got to hear about her planned party night with Brett. It wasn't me who broke up Brett's marriage. Being called as a witness under these circumstances will do that to your marriage.
Yes, I was found guilty. However, thirty days lockup and a year of probation was worth it. The divorce went smoothly but I am forced to pay maintenance for two years or until she remarries. She's just pissed off enough to take all twenty four payments.
Irene did lose her job but sued and got it back. I didn't lose mine. Her company said to 'Fuck off' when approached about Irene and Brett's relationship. They've learned to protect themselves from horny employees by allowing fornication whenever employees get the urge.
We sold the house to some people who thought it was weird that we had 'place and press' carpet in the linen closet. Deal with it.
Lit requires a final sit down talk before the wife will sign the divorce documents. I forget what she said. As Hamlet said 'words, words, words'. We're officially divorced which is all that matters.
