This flash story resulted from an anon, JoAnne, requesting a particular train of thought. Her selfie convinced me to put her idea into play.
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Bob Seger: "And it went on yesterday and it's going on tonight. Somewhere there's somebody ain't treatin' somebody right."
+ + + +
I'm not a ladies man. Never was. Never will be. As with many of the nerdy successful single men, I had to wait until the great catches had been divvied up. Once those major studs are out of play, quiet nerds with a good income start to look good to the remaining women. Or could it be the other way around too? Once the babes and leg spreaders have been swept off their feet, the remaining women start looking great to the unattached men.
My name is Brice and I married Naomi twenty three years ago. Our first child only took six months but the rest were the standard nine months. My eldest, Denise, is a senior in college. Her brother, Daniel, is a sophomore at the cross state rival. Mikie is the youngest and she heads off to a private college in the fall. She's apparently a lot smarter than the other two as she's on a full ride scholarship. My pocketbook really appreciates that.
Naomi and I met at a business conference. She was handing out registration materials. Apparently I was witty enough for her to track me down at lunch and sit with me. What makes Naomi different from most is that she is significantly overweight. She seems unfazed by it and flirts as if she was a skinny little thing.
What she looks like has never mattered to me. I'm no runway model either. We fell in love based on common beliefs and desires.
Naomi works, but only makes about half of what I do. She an enigma. She's very smart and good looking, but refuses to wear make-up or watch her weight. I try not to pry but I did see her health fair report and it showed two hundred forty. That's not good for a five foot four frame.
I learned early on to never broach the subjects of diet and face paint. We have our spats but I can't say it has ever affected our sex life for more than a day or two. There is nothing exciting about that sex life. Once or twice a week we couple missionary style. I've never wanted to know if Naomi has sexual fantasies and she's never inquired about mine. I guess I'm old-fashioned in that I think those are a slippery slope.
+ + + +
It was my daughter Mikie, the high school senior, who first clued me in.
"Dad, you are so dense I almost wish the milkman was my father. Did mom have lip gloss on when she left for work this morning?"
"How am I supposed to know that?"
"Does she ever put make-up on?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"So do you think she sweats lip gloss and it magically appears?"
"Probably not. What's your point?"
"Do you think she's putting it on for you?"
My stomach cramped.
"I've been waiting for you to do something. Wander by and see if you can smell perfume."
I walked by, under the premise of filling my glass, and sure as hell, I could smell perfume. I made my way back to Mikie.
"Probably not for me, huh?"
"There might be hope for you yet Clouseau. This has been going on for a few months now. Since when did she start wearing blouses that showcased her cleavage? My guess is that if you check her credit card receipts, you'll find a lot of new clothes purchased recently. If it was me, I'd be getting my finances in order."
I kissed Mikie on her forehead and headed into my study. As predicted, Naomi's purchases at boutiques went from nothing to over two hundred dollars each of the last three months. I called one of the guys I golf with on the weekends. His brother is a divorce lawyer. The attorney had an opening at 4 pm tomorrow.
+ + + +
I've worked my ass off to pay for my kid's education. If I can send them off into the work force, without student loans to repay, then their chances of living the dream are greatly improved. As such, my own personal wealth is not even the prescribed six months of paychecks. If Denise wants to go to grad school then even that will take a hit.
Denise, my college senior, is getting very serious with Richard Denton, the son of the president of the company I work for. They met at a company picnic and have grown up together. Attending the same high school, and then college, the two have become one. Richard is a year older than Denise and is now working as his father's assistant. Denise is a little flustered that talks of marriage are not moving as fast as she was hoping. The cost of a wedding or getting her masters, I'm about to take another financial hit.
Daniel fancies himself a Romeo and I have yet to see him with the same girl twice. Mikie has no use for boys. All the nightmares fathers go through, dreading the constant parade of boys with raging hormones, I have managed to avoid. I should thank someone.
I sulked the evening Mikie pointed out the change in Naomi. You weave what you think is that road to living happily ever after. Seems like that common thread has been pulled a little from the fabric of our marriage.
The attorney convinced me to draw up three forms. A separation agreement, a post-nuptial agreement, and a petition for divorce. His suggestion was to find a suitable time and give Naomi her options. The purpose of the separation agreement was to freeze the assets at that point in time. Not so much freeze, but determine what each of our shares were worth on everything we owned. Immediately moving what I could, to individual accounts, was his suggestion.
I fretted about doing this. Maybe this isn't as bad as I'm making it out to be. I didn't have to fret long. Mikie was out somewhere. After dinner, Naomi and I retired to the living room to watch television.
"Brice, since we've saved up a little I'm thinking about getting some Botox injections and a liposuction treatment."
I pondered that statement. What should I think? Is she doing this for me?
"Hold on, let me get something."
I walked into my office and pulled out the three forms. I signed and dated all three.
"Here Naomi, these are for you."
After a few glances "What in the hell is this?"
"I think it's pretty obvious. The first one is a separation agreement. The second one is a post-nuptial agreement. And the third one is a petition for divorce. I've already split the savings account. I'll be back this time tomorrow. If you haven't signed the separation agreement and post-nuptial agreement, I'll have the petition for divorce served legally."
"All because I want to spend some money? You're crazy if you think I want a divorce or to separate."
"What's his name?"
"Whose name?"
"The guy you're getting all of this done for."
"I'm getting it done for me, and you."
"Bullshit. You had twenty three years to get this done for me. Until three months ago, you wouldn't even do this for yourself. What's his name?"
"This is nonsense. There is no other man."
"Is it another woman you're romantically involved with?"
"NO!"
"So it is another man. What's his name?"
"There is no other man."
"Do you remember what you wore when we went out to dinner last Sunday?"
"Not really."
"Did you put on lip gloss and perfume?"
"No."
"But you come home from work every day with lip gloss and perfume on, even though you left the house without it on. Either you give me his name or I skip the separation agreement and file for divorce tomorrow."
The tears could no longer be held back.
"Brice, it's not as bad as you think."
"Let's assume I could believe that, which I don't, you seem to value his personal life more than mine. Last chance Naomi, what's his name?"
The forlorn look and tears didn't sway me. I got up to leave.
"Jim Stevens" in a very quiet voice.
"I'll be back tomorrow. Sign whichever set of forms you want. I'm done with you, you lying piece of shit."
"Brice NO! Don't say that. I didn't let it get that far. Please stay! We need to talk about this."
I went to my bedroom and packed a suitcase. Naomi was sitting quietly with her face in her hands. I hadn't noticed her standing there but Mikie gave me a hug and kiss.
"Proud of you dad. If we're not good enough for her she can go F F F herself."
"How could I have missed all of those signs?"
"Real easy dad. In the college prep class I'm taking, at the community college, we've been studying conformation bias. Basically it means that you interpret and filter out any information that goes against your preexisting beliefs. You believed mom would never cheat on you, so you ignored, or misinterpreted the signs because they didn't fit into your bias. You're far from the first and won't be the last. Politicians use it to their advantage. They'll spout nonsense until they hit a nerve with a voter. That voter ignores all of the things they disagree with because the politician hit on something that matters immensely to them."
"That's amazing Mikie. I'll be back about this time tomorrow kid. Again, thanks for the wake-up call. Love you."
"Love you too dad."
+ + + +
Maybe I should have powered my phone off. Maybe I should have let it go to messages.
"Brice, this post-nuptial agreement is retroactive."
"That's not a problem for me Naomi. Apparently it is for you?"
I counted to three, hung up, and powered my phone off. Not proof, but it certainly made it difficult to sleep after that.