Ill String Along With You

"Mable, we need to talk.

"I filed for bankruptcy. We do not have shit in our accounts and the mortgage payment is way over our income. The house will soon be repossessed and we will be out on the streets. I met with my lawyers today, and after everything is over our net worth will be around twelve dollars."

My sixty-one-year-old wife looked at me with surprise.

"What ... how?" She was lost for words.

"You remember the frequent trips I was taking out of town for consultancy jobs since I retired?" I asked.

"Yeah, what about them?" She was trying hard not to have a heart attack.

"They were a cover. I was actually addicted to gambling and was flying out to Las Vegas to gamble. I gambled away our savings, my 401(k), I took an additional mortgage on the house and cashed in all the CDs. I am sorry that I was weak and I betrayed your trust, " I said.

"How are we going to survive, Mart? We don't have a pension or Social Security! You're retired and I've never worked in my life. At this advance aged what are we going to do?"

"I have no idea. I have agreed to become the night watchman at a friend's warehouse in return for free meals in the cafeteria and a bed in the rest area of the warehouse. I am sorry I will not be able to bring you with me, but the men's shower is right next to where I sleep and guys change their clothes in my room all the time. It is almost a corridor.

"As for right now, " I continued my explanation, "you will have to make living arrangements for yourself. I might be able to slip you a couple of dollars now and then, but I am not getting paid a salary, just food and shelter."

"Where am I to go? Ma and Pa are gone. My only sister passed away last year. We have no children to support us. What am I to do?" She was crying and trying hard to understand what was going on. I guess the shock was just setting in.

"I heard that Martha died last year and Paul is living all alone in his big house. You might rekindle the old flame and move in with him," I said.

"What do you mean rekindle?" Mable had a queasy look on her face.

"You do remember twenty-two years ago, how you began your affair with Paul? I am sure he will remember you fondly for those two years," I said.

"You knew?" Her eyes widened.

"Yes, the day I learned about Paul I decided that eventually I would leave you. I decided to give you till the age of sixty-one, or until your next affair. So happy birthday. I'm leaving now."

"My needs are few so I will manage okay, but with diabetes, arthritis and spondylitis, your needs are many. Additionally, since Paul is a paraplegic now, you can sweeten your offer by taking care of him in exchange for the food and shelter he has to offer."

"Oh, by the way, you do know that the person who cracked his backbone and smashed his privates was never caught. My name never came up because his attack came five years after your affair ended. No one suspected any of his affairs from that far back. There were three more current cuckolds to take the heat. Thank god Paul was such a player." I smiled as I delivered the verdict on her affair that ended twenty years ago.

"It was you?" Mable was getting some idea about how deep my anger ran.

"Hmmm, what do you think, my dear cheating wife? I did not divorce you back then because you were the best fuck this side of the equator. I was used to having you around, and by the time I came to know all about the affair, it had run its course. I said to myself, I will leave her immediately if she ever has another affair, but I will certainly leave her in her old age.

"Now, for whatever life you have left, you may ponder over your affair. I will not be living in luxury either, but at least I will sleep soundly at night, knowing that I revenged the wrong done me."

I picked up my last suitcase and loaded it in the back of my car. Mable by that time was blathering on about how she had been a model wife to me since that day and how she loved me. Well, I had given her the best years of my life; I needed my peace of mind too.

The fact is, all these belongings I so carefully packed up are going to the Salvation Army. My gambling trips had not been for any addiction, not that she would have enough money to hire a lawyer to look into my goings-on. I had left each month to supervise the progress of the cabin I was building in a quaint New England town.

Now I would be catching a flight later today to start the rest of my life. Last week I asked one of my friends to keep an eye on Mable and report to me the progress of her pain so that I could get continued satisfaction from my revenge, my sweet revenge.

What can I say? I am one angry bastard.

*

I thank my editor Erik Thread who not just copy edited the story, but also gave me directions to make the story better. Thank you Erik, you are the best!