It was well past two in the morning Saturday by the time Sherry made her way back home. Sherry had started her partying Friday right after work, when she, along with a few of her friends, decided to celebrate the weekend at a bar they frequented often. They had been tipping more than a few as well as dancing, until the combination of the two got to be too much for even her. Thank God, she hadn't driven or she would have had to call Steve to pick her up again, then listen to him rant and rave all the way home. It wasn't unusual for her to be this late; in fact it had become pretty commonplace over the last year or so. Oh well, her husband was probably sleeping, as usual, but it wasn't beneath her to make more than enough noise to wake his ass up, in fact she kind of enjoyed doing that. She had really become a vindictive bitch, she thought to herself with that drunken smirk still plastered on her face.
Staggering up the stairs she passed the guest room and kept on walking. It wasn't really walking, more so just putting one foot in front of the other as she made her way down the dark hallway. By the time she hit the master bedroom, she was sliding her shoulder against the wall to make sure she kept herself upright. Pushing the door open with her foot, Sherry saw that her bedside table lamp was on, and more surprisingly, the bed were empty.
"Where in the hell is he?" her brain asked, shooting an impulse to her legs to check out the bathroom. After checking the rest of the upstairs and finding no one, she headed back downstairs. There was a dim light on in the kitchen, and she thought that maybe he'd fallen asleep at the kitchen table waiting up for her.
No such luck, but Sherry did find that the hood light over the stove had been left on. "That son of a bitch is going to hear it from me when he gets home, making me worry like this." That's when she saw some stuff piled on the counter. Sherry almost didn't bother with it, thinking she would wait until morning, but something shiny caught her eye.
Pulling one of the high top chairs back from the counter she flopped down in it and scooted it up to the counter. She fumbled and finally picked it up; it was Steve's damn ring. Not just any ring—it was his wedding ring.
Rolling it around with her fingers even her numb brain figured out this wasn't normal. Stacked underneath was a bunch of papers and things she started to sort through. Her passport, what looked like some kind of ticket, and a sealed envelope. Sherry looked at her watch, two thirty. Maybe she'd wait until Steve got home so he could explain this all to her. She folded her arms on the counter, laid her heavy head down on them, and was asleep in no more than a minute or two.
How Sherry ended up on the floor she wasn't certain, but hitting the floor will wake up anyone, drunk or not. Rubbing her face, she glanced at her watch, five forty-five. That damn Steve, he came home and left her sleeping on the counter. Getting to her feet she charged up the stairs to wake his ass up, but like before he wasn't there.
This time she didn't stagger, but swiftly walked back down the stairs and into the kitchen. Sherry hit the overhead light and now everything was illuminated by the bright recessed kitchen lighting.
"What the hell's going on?" she thought, as she opened the door to the garage and saw that Steve's car was still missing. Looking over at the counter she again saw the pile of items.
She hadn't used her passport in years, she thought, as she looked at the old outdated photo. The ticket was an airline ticket to Florida, and the final piece was an envelope with her name on it. Tearing into it she pulled out two pages. Sherry ran to the bedroom for the reading glasses she kept on her night table, taking the letter with her. She went back down into the kitchen, sat at the counter and started to read.
Dear Sherry,
If you're reading this, you've figured out I'm not at home, and you've found everything I've left for you.
I know you have heard it in bars, especially over the last couple of years for sure. About a half hour before they're ready to close they'll yell out 'last call." This, my dear wife, is your last call.
You, of all people, won't be surprised when I say that our marriage isn't working and hasn't been for a long time. I'd like to say I'm willing to let it go on like it has for the past couple of years, but that's not what is going to happen.
As I see it we have basically two choices. One, you can get off your ass, scoop up those documents and join me for a hard week of trying to save what's left of our marriage. If you choose that route I'll meet your plane and we can go on from that point. Option two isn't quite as nice. We separate, split everything fifty fifty and end what has become a sham of a marriage. I'm not really sure I wouldn't prefer to see option two happen, but because I still have feelings for you, not a lot of feelings anymore, but something is still there, I am willing to give it one more try.
I'm not going to write a long dissertation on how we got to this point and who's fault it is or was, I'm just going to say that I can't continue on the path you've chosen for us.
Sherry stopped reading for a moment and looked around the room. This was a joke, it had to be. Steve didn't have the balls to do what he had written. She knew any minute now he would be walking through the door, his tail tucked between his legs, asking for forgiveness like he always did.
"This is the thanks I get for being too easy on him," Sherry thought to herself. "If he thinks he can scare me by threatening a divorce, he is sadly mistaken." She decided to finish reading his stupid letter as long as she'd gotten this far.
Sherry, we've had some great times in the past and raised two wonderful children, but as they say you can't stay in a bad marriage just for the sake of the kids. They're on their own now and making their own lives with the people they have chosen. I think if we're both willing to give a little, we can find what we had when we first met. I'm not saying it will be easy, but it's necessary if our marriage is to survive.
"Crap, crap, crap," is what she said, tossing the letter on the counter. "I gave that man my virtue and everything else I had, and he now says it's not enough? As God is my witness he is going to pay for this when he comes home," Sherry said aloud to the empty room. "If he wasn't such a sniveling little wimp and had even the resemblance of a backbone, then maybe I wouldn't have to push him all the time. If it weren't for me, he would still be a frigging route salesman instead of moving up the ranks like he has. He should be on his knees kissing my feet instead of giving me ultimatums. Who does he think he is and for that matter who does he think he's talking to? His damn mother?" Sherry was getting worked up now, like she always did when Steve didn't do exactly what she wanted him to do. She went back to reading.
Like I said, Sherry, I'll meet you at the plane, and we can try to start our lives over again, but you need to make sure you're on that plane.
Sherry looked at the ticket. "There's no way in hell I can make that damn flight; it leaves in just three hours," she said, looking at her watch. "Won't Mr. High and Mighty be surprised when I'm not on the damn plane," she said, spinning his wedding ring on the counter. "And if he thinks he's getting this ring back when he finally comes home he's sadly mistaken. He's going to have to earn it back," she snickered, thinking about all the ugly things she was going to make him do. When she spun the ring and it fell onto the floor she just left it there. She was tired. After a long night of partying with her friends she needed sleep. She would deal with her husband later—and at her convenience.
Sherry didn't take the time to read the rest of the letter because if she had, she would have seen if she wasn't on the plane a whole list of items, that had already been put in the works, would happen starting in just a few short hours.
Later that morning Sherry was nursing a cup of coffee at the kitchen table, vowing never to drink again, when Steve's two brothers, Chris and Jack, walked through the front door.
"Excuse me, you two can't just walk into my house, even if you are Steve's damn brothers."
"Go ahead and finish your coffee. We're just here to pick up a few items my brother wanted us to get for him," Chris said, looking at his piece of shit sister-in-law.
"All right, go ahead, and you can tell him from me that he is in a world of deep shit when he comes home."
They never responded, just ran up the stairs with a box of black trash bags. Three trips was all it took, and they were gone without saying another word to Sherry.
"They could have at least said thank you," Sherry mumbled to herself, finishing her second cup, now thinking about breakfast or maybe lunch looking up at the clock.
After her lunch she went shopping with her friends, and since Steve wasn't around they made a night of it again. She never made it home. She woke up on Carol's couch Sunday afternoon praying for death. For the second time in two days she swore off the booze, but that would only last until she sobered up and felt better.
"Steve's probably at home right now wondering where the hell I am. He can just think the worst, it'll serve him right." She went back to sleep.
To further teach Steve a lesson, Sherry spitefully was going to stay over at Carol's Sunday night too, but she really needed to get home. She had to be at work Monday morning, and didn't have a change of clothes.
When she walked into a still empty house, Sherry got mad all over again. "He can run, but he can't hide forever," she said under her breath, planning even more ugly things when she saw him the next time.
Sunday night was quiet, too quiet. She was reading in bed and for the first time thought about Steve and not in an ugly manner. "Maybe I'll give him a little when he finally decides to come home. It's been a while and I know how much he loves to go down on me." That thought made her feel something deep down inside—not love mind you, but what it felt like after Steve got her off. She woke up late Monday morning with her book still on her lap.
Monday she was running late. Steve had always made sure her ass was up and moving, so this morning without him, Sherry got to work a half hour late. It was a busy Monday, as always, and if it weren't for Carol asking when Steve had finally shown up, she probably wouldn't have given it a second thought. That is until ten fifty-four when a man in a suit walked up to Sherry and handed her an envelope.
"Mrs. Sherry Moore, you've been served," was all he said. When she took the envelope he turned around and walked back out the way he came in.
"That bastard," she said out loud. "He's gone too far now, that little prick is going to pay big time for embarrassing me at work like this," she screamed on the inside, looking around to see how many people saw her getting served.
