First We Practice To Deceive Louise

This is my second story in the 'First We Practice to Deceive' series. Again, all of the characters have flaws and ultimately aren't that nice. This story came out of a couple I have read in which the wife cheats, the husband leaves, then finds out he is a father and falls straight back in love with the wife. What I wanted to ask was, "What happens if he doesn't care any more?". This asks the question.

Some people are not going to like the husband, that's OK, you aren't meant to agree with his actions, just think about what you would do differently. He isn't meant to be that great figure who rises above everything every time, he's human.

Thanks to kenjisato for the editing. I would not be able to publish my stories without his input.

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I sat at the corner of the bar, people watching, as I drank my usual Irish whiskey with a dash of water and no ice. When I moved into the apartment block in which the bar was located, they hadn't even heard of Irish whiskey, but now a bottle was kept for me and a few of my new friends. I had moved to this town just over three years ago after my wife of four years told me I was boring and she was going to date other men to bring a spark back into her life. She was going to walk out the door to her new boyfriend-- so I was in my car with all my belongings before she had finished dinner.

As I left home I phoned my mum to explain. Her reaction was like a knife to my heart. "Of course, she needs someone else. You have been trying to get her pregnant for months, and she told us all you think about is her cycle. The girl needs time to have fun if you can't get the job done. You need to deal with this."

I laughed at her. "What do you mean, trying to get her pregnant. She is on the pill, she doesn't want a child yet. Who told you we were trying?"

"She did," spat my mother.

"Then why is the renewed prescription for the pill on my insurance, and why do I see her take it every morning? There is no baby on the agenda. This is bullshit. Have you been involved in this?" I demanded.

She replied, definitely, "Yes, I have. I expect you to be a man and make your wife happy; she won't get pregnant if she isn't happy. That is how you were brought up, and if that means she has to go outside the marriage for some fun, then you have to deal with it."

After such a disrespectful statement, I ended my relationship with her, with me saying, "Goodbye mother, enjoy your life. I will never accept this and your role in destroying my marriage should be on your conscience for the rest of your life." I hung up the phone and realised my life in this city was over. This had obviously been in the planning for a while, and I was not going to be the wimp they expected me to be.

I issued divorce proceedings, but she fought it. Instead of going to counselling, I dropped the petition, but have kept away from her ever since. My attorney contacted me every few months to say he had received a letter from her to pass on to me and I always told him to return it to her with a note that I have no interest in reconciling with her.

My wife, Louise, and I, Matt Golding, met in our final year of college. We did the usual romance and married three years later at the age of twenty-five. When we left college, we both started jobs in our home city, working to qualify as CPAs, but at different firms. By the time we were married, we were both qualified. After four years of married life, I was looking to start a family, but she didn't and that is how we ended up with her wanting to date other men because all I did 'was sit on my ass dreaming of babies'." Apparently!

That night, I handed in my notice, and over the next week, drove over five hundred miles to a new town in the deep south. The weather was warm, the beer was cold, and the idea of babies passed me by, as there was no mother or mother-in-law badgering me to produce grandchildren.

No one knew where I was. A divorce was unnecessary as I was never going to marry again, but my bed was rarely empty as I was a 'handsome stranger' in a town, where everyone knew everything about everyone. I continued to work as a CPA, but for a large multinational chemical company, managing their excess cash, and earning several times what I had earned in practice.

People watching was always a great sport at the local bar; with very few strangers, when someone new walked in the door, the sound level dropped noticeably. As I looked towards the door to see the new customer, I nearly choked on my drink.

She had changed-- a little heavier, her hair shorter, glasses instead of contacts, and a slight limp-- but it was definitely Louise, and she was definitely still attractive. I moved slightly in my seat, so that I was only in profile. I had changed a lot since she had last seen me. My hair was a lot longer, and also a goatee beard; I also had taken my glasses off. She would recognise me if she looked directly at me, but would be unlikely to pick me out on the side profile.

My own reaction shocked me. I had spent three years trying to hate her, but then when I saw her, I realised two things-- she was still beautiful and attractive to me, but I felt no emotional attachment to her. I searched my feelings, and yes, I once loved her, but it had become just indifference. I really did not want to see her, but if we had to go through this, well, let it happen. I knew I was over her, and life had moved on.

I finished my drink and slipped out of my seat and moved to the back side of the bar. I could hear everything going on, but I could not be seen from my new location.

I heard Louise ask, "Have you seen Matt Golding? I have been told he drinks here and lives in the block upstairs."

The bartender's reply was simple, "Who wants to know?"

I heard her response, "I'm his wife, Louise, and I need to find him to bring him home."

It was clear the bartender was serving someone else, as the conversation was about beer and the price, but eventually, he returned to Louise, saying, "He drinks in here sometimes, sits on that seat there, but I don't see him tonight."

Louise clearly didn't buy the story. "I know he's in here most nights and I need to find him now,"

I decided it was time for a quick exit, so I slipped out the back door, around the block, and entered my apartment building. There were a number of things that were clear from the exchange. Louise had obviously had me tracked down by professionals-- she knew where I lived, worked, and socialised-- so I was not going to be able to avoid her, unless I ran, something I did not want to do.

I, therefore, needed this confrontation to happen on my terms, and that meant in my apartment. I needed to act quickly, as I knew I could be blindsided if I was not careful. I quickly set up my iPad to be able to record video and audio of the living room; just in case I needed a record of what happened.

Once set up, I went to the kitchen and put on coffee. I was not about to offer her alcohol or anything to eat. I was going to have to deal with this, but I was not going to stretch it out.

Sure enough, the doorbell rang and when I looked through the peephole, Louise was standing at the door.

I opened the door so she could see me fully, but I did not move out of the way to offer her entry. My response was deadpan. "Hallo, Louise. Why have you come here?"

My obvious lack of an emotional response or warm greeting seemed to take Louise by surprise. "Are you not going to welcome me to your new home with a hug and a kiss? Can I, at least, come in?"

"If you must," was all I could muster. I turned my back and headed to the living room. Over my shoulder, I said, "Please close the door."

It was clear Louise was expecting a much warmer welcome than I had given her, and she entered the living room to find me in a single seat, as far from the two seater as it could be. She sat on the edge of the two seater and stared at the floor for a moment before she looked up. "How have you been?"

It was surprisingly easy to keep my voice emotionless, as I replied, "Fine. Why are you here?"

My disinterest was clearly annoying her, but she let it slide, and asked, "Can I have a drink?"

I responded, "I have just put on coffee." I knew she was not a big coffee drinker.

She asked, "Have you nothing stronger?"

I sighed. "No, I don't keep alcohol in the house."

Realising I was not going to make this easy, she said, "OK, I will have a coffee,"

I got up, went into the kitchen, and brought back two cups of coffee. I did not bring anything to eat, not wanting this to last any longer than necessary.

Once I sat down, she started straight into her obviously prepared speech. "Matt, why did you just up and leave, when I tried to organise counselling, so you could get over your anger-- you just pulled the divorce and gaslighted me?"

I took a sip of my coffee and savoured the dark Italian roast. It was impossible to get in the town, so I brought a bag back from my last trip to Atlanta, a few weeks ago. This was the last of it, and I was not going to let Louise ruin the moment.

I opened my eyes, and replied, "Gee, let me think. My wife goes out on a date with another man, with the obvious intention of cuckolding me-- why do you think I walked away? I told you what I would do if you cheated on me many times, and I told you that night I would not be there when you got home. What surprises me is you were surprised by my action. So our marriage is over, and it is staying over. I would prefer a divorce, but I am not going through the hassle of a contested one, so you can vent your spleen to a counsellor. By the way, how did you find me?"

Louise was staring into her coffee. "I did not go on a date, I went out with Jim from work for a drink. How did you come up with the idea that it was a date?"

I rolled my eyes at her. "You described it as a date, I was boring and you needed a spark back before I forced you into motherhood. Remember the little talk? Because I do. Now, how did you find me, and why?"

She lifted her eyes to me, and I could almost see her pleading. "I went out for a drink. I had no intention of having sex with him. You jumped to conclusions. As for finding you-- your mum, my mum and I hired a private investigator to track you down. They traced you to this town about a month ago, when you renewed your driving license. They found you a few days ago, giving me this address, your local bar and your work details."

"OK. That's the how; now... why?" I asked, with a hostility in my voice, even I didn't expect. "I do not want a reconciliation. I certainly don't want a child with a woman who tells everyone she wants a baby, then accuses me of forcing one on her as she continues to take the pill. In reality, your mother and my mother had been virtually bombarding me for a year to give them a grandchild-- making my life hell, yet you told them lies while blaming me for it. Our marriage was dysfunctional and I needed to move out to see that."

I could see tears in her eyes.

"I need you back. You have no idea what happened because you walked away and refused to talk. So much has happened and our family needs you!"

The words 'our family' sent a shiver down my spine. I didn't like where t those words could go, but the die was cast-- I was not going to take her BS.

She fished her phone out of her pocket and called someone. When they answered, she said, "Come up, now," and hung up.

I didn't speak, but Louise looked at me, biting her bottom lip in a way that showed she was obviously nervous.

The doorbell rang and I didn't move.

She just kept looking at me.

So I said, "This is clearly your game, so you let them in."

Louise stood, and added before going to the door, "This is no game. This is what your life should be."

She walked to the door, and I could hear whispers but not the words. The voices were obviously my mother and hers.

I sat where I was, and watched the door to the living room, as Louise walked in, bringing a young boy by the hand into the room. The child was around two or three, and was looking around nervously. Immediately behind Louise was my mother and her mother. All four looked at me, as if expecting me to do or say something, but I just sat and looked at them. Then I took a long drink of coffee, draining the cup before putting it on the floor beside the chair.

My mother said, "Well, aren't you going to say something?"

I smiled, knowing there was no warmth in it. "Hallo, mother. I told you I didn't want anything to do with her ever again, but here you all are, clearly with a plan to get me to do what you want."

My mother's face was a picture, as she gave me a look that would turn anyone to stone. Then she spat, "You need to grow up and take responsibility, you have a family that needs a father and a wife that needs support."

"Well, mother... if you remember... I tried that, but my loving wife decided that that was not for her. You all chose her over me. I am happy in my life here, so please, you have made your bed, go back to your own home and lie in it," was my caustic response.

My mother was unhappy with that, and almost shouted, "This is your child, Matt, do you feel nothing!"

For some reason, I was not surprised by the comment, but it felt like I was being blackmailed. I said, "It would be better if the child was taken away, I don't think he should hear my response to that."

Louise looked at me, adding, "He is staying here, he needs a father and you have that job whether you like it or not."

I just sighed. "All right, but this isn't going to be pretty. Can I have a copy of the DNA test that proves he's mine?"

Louise's hand went straight to her mouth as she cried, "Oh god! You think I cheated on you!"

I smirked. "If the shoe fits."

Her mom quickly grabbed the child's hand. "I don't think he should be here. You two need to talk this out without him in the room." Then, she virtually ran out the door with the child.

My own mother looked at me with a death stare. "I really hoped you would step up for that boy, but clearly you haven't turned into the person I raised you to be."

As the three of them left my apartment, Louise stood with her back to me, the sounds of her sobs could be heard over the noise of the door being slammed.

Without turning around, she asked, "Do you really think I cheated on you?"

I sighed. "You left our house with the intention of cheating on me regardless of what you say now. You were still on the pill because you didn't want to become a mother, even though both our mothers blamed me for the lack of grandchildren, and now you present a child to me and expect me to accept it and you as if the last three years were just a figment of someone's imagination. Sorry, but it's not happening."

Her shoulders were now going up and down, when she asked, "Do you hate me?"

I got up, and she clearly thought I was coming over to her, so she turned around, but instead, I went into the kitchen and poured a fresh cup of coffee. When I returned, she had removed her glasses and was wiping tears from her eyes.

I had used the time to compose my response, as I knew this was make-or-break time.

"No, Louise, I don't hate you. I am indifferent to you. I feel no love nor any hate. I can see you are attractive, but the thought of being with you does nothing for me. The child, what's his name--"

"John," she interjected.

"John could be anyone's. He doesn't even touch my heart. I'm sorry, Louise. If he is mine, I will help pay for him, but to be honest, I don't want either of you in my life."

Louise bolted for the door. I heard the door open and she ran out, leaving it open. I walked to the door and closed it, returned to the living room then took my half-full cup of coffee to the sink to pour it out. She had successfully ruined the last cup of my Italian roast.

About a week later, my attorney contacted me. "Your wife and her attorney have made contact. She has sent a letter for you and also asked if you would take a DNA test to prove that John is your son. The letter explains it all."

I thought for a while, then said, "Scan the letter and email it to me. I will do the DNA test. Please give her this message. 'IF the boy is mine, I will support him, but only on the grounds that she agrees to a divorce and agrees to not contact me again.'".

The letter came through, but I only read the first page. It set out how she had been on antibiotics the week prior to our split, and that appeared to have blocked her birth-control pills. The rest was a justification of why she felt the way she did, and assurance that she did not have sex with anyone else. I didn't care. She had made a decision to step outside our marriage and, for me, that was a deal breaker.

Louise sent me a DNA kit and I went to the doctor to ensure it was done properly. Ten days later, I received the results that John was my son. As I read the letter, I only felt disappointment. I didn't want this crap in my life and felt Louise was now trying to trap me.

I contacted my attorney and asked him to file for divorce offering her two-thousand-dollars-a-month child support for an uncontested divorce.

My mother called me a week later. "Have you no feelings for the boy?"

My response was harsh, but I felt fair under the circumstances. "No, mother, I don't. My then-wife tells me she isn't interested in having children with me, starts dating other men, then blindsides me with a child. I just want to get away from that life. I will not leave the child destitute, but his mother killed all my feelings for her and I just want to move on with my life-- which doesn't have them in it."

My mother was crying and just hung up the phone.

A week later, my attorney called to say Louise had accepted the offer, on the condition I turn up to sign the papers in person, on the same day as she signs.

The meeting was set up and I travelled to my old hometown the day before the meeting, staying in a city-centre hotel. Nothing had changed, and the more I looked around, the more I realised this was a metaphor for what Louise wanted for me. I just wanted out of the hotel, out of the city... and out of my marriage.

The meeting the next morning was as emotionally charged, as I suspected it would be. Louise was putting on the hard press to see if she could stop the divorce. That first time I had seen her in the bar, she was a little heavier than when we had been together. Clearly, she had put in a lot of work to lose the last of the baby weight she had put on. She wore a sundress I had never seen before, that was designed to show off her figure. Her makeup and hair were perfect, and she tried to smile at me with so much warmth to try to melt my heart. John was dressed to perfection, and her mother was present to keep him occupied. My mother was not present, but I knew she was outside the room.

This really was the hard press I had feared.

Louise's attorney opened the meeting. "Thank you for coming here today, Mr Golding. We know you had a long distance to travel. Your wife, Mrs Golding, is willing to sign these papers, but only under duress. Please look at your son and look at your wife, Mr Golding. They love you and need you, they want you in their life. Please open your heart to them and scrap this divorce, so you can come home and be a family."

I just looked at the attorney, picked up the papers and signed on the dotted line.

"Louise, you had everything you wanted three years ago, but you threw it away because I was 'borrring'." I even made the air quotes as I said the word. "Well, I have moved on. I am not that 'borrring'," again making the air quotes, "anymore, and you aren't part of my future. Please do as you say, and sign the documents then I will return to my life."

Tears flowed freely from Louise's eyes, but she signed the documents before handing them to my attorney.