Requiem

It's been a while, but I had this story in the files, all finished and ready to post. I never did, I don't recall why, I just didn't. It's in a similar vein as Just Plain Bob. As it has no real ending (it does, but I know what some readers will say). As usual, I write for my own enjoyment and share so I can spread the joy.

"SON OF A BITCH!"

His wife's vehement declaration reached his ears at the same time he walked into the bedroom.

Shortly after they met, Raymond became well versed in Dorothy's explosive reactions. It was at a highly recommended restaurant; they were on a second date when Dorothy's food arrived, and she quickly discovered the meat wasn't cooked to her order. The exchange was going well with the waitress who'd brought their meals and who was about to return Dorothy's meal to the kitchen in exchange for another, until a haughty waiter intervened, claiming that they would have to be charged for the extra meal.

That's when Dorothy went off, letting the waiter have it with an intensity of volume and decidedly unladylike language. They were eventually asked to leave by the maitre d, but not before having the satisfaction of knowing the waiter was terminated. That was Raymond's first experience with Dorothy's emotional volcanic eruptions. Although there had been several more such incidents since their wedding day, very few had been directed at him in the last 23 years.

This was one of those times.

"MOTHERFUCKER! GET INTO THE LIVINGROOM RIGHT THIS INSTANT!" screeched Dorothy at Raymond.

He hadn't heard her enter the house, plus he thought she'd be away a bit longer.

Sighing loudly, Raymond momentarily toyed with the idea of simply ignoring his wife.

However, that would delay the confrontation only briefly. It was better just to get whatever had her panties twisted over with as quickly as possible. Balance would thus return to life that much quicker.

Turning his next step into a about-face, he briskly walked down the wooden planked hall way--his steps echoing weirdly in the silence--into the carpeted living room.

The living room always reminded Raymond of an austere physician's office. The modern furniture that Dorothy had selected from that popular Swedish furniture store decorated the living room. The eclectic simplicity of the room's layout seemed out of place in a home, but Dorothy liked it, so Raymond put up with it.

"What is it, Dorothy?" asked Ray in a calm but stiff manner. He was anything but calm and was actually furious at Dorothy's demeaning attitude. It was getting more difficult to deal with her vicious diatribes.

"Don't you dare act innocent, asshole!" said Dorothy in a righteous tone of voice. "Timothy here has told me the scoop on you."

Raymond had noticed Timothy Hannity when he'd walked into the living room, but he'd never cared for the man, and now even less so, so he hadn't bothered to acknowledge him. "I see," remarked Raymond nonchalantly.

Then, letting the moment drag on into a tense silence, he asked, "What' scoop' might that be?", while studiously ignoring Hannity.

"YOU KNOW WHA-" began Dorothy, her fury renewed, but Raymond spoke up, louder and more vehemently than his wife could have ever conceived possible.

"SHADDUP!"

Dorothy's face became livid even as her expression registered the shock of her husband's unprecedented outburst. "WHA--" she started to demand loudly.

"SHADDUP!" Raymond shouted again. Then more quietly, "I said shut up, and I meant shut up. Do you understand?" He asked his wife. "Don't say a word; just nod if you understand."

Glancing at Timothy, who seemed to be in his own state of shock, Dorothy couldn't and wouldn't let this defiance of her authority go unanswered. Especially in front of company, and most especially in front of Timothy.

"HOW DARE YOU! I SHOULD-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Shouted Raymond, spittle flying out of his mouth. "JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!

The anger within him had rolled out, causing his words to become more guttural than he'd intended. Dorothy could tell Raymond was angry, maybe even furious, by the way his chest heaved with passion.

"If you can't talk normally and without calling me names, then leave and don't return, Dorothy," said Raymond without the gall of a moment ago. "Otherwise, explain yourself."

Despite her face burning with embarrassment and splotching with anger, Dorothy managed to reign in her raucousness and resort to a lower level of volume. She'd never experienced her husband's ire on such a scale, and it bothered her to the point where she felt caution was probably the best recourse.

"Well, if you'd heard what I just did from Timothy, you'd be upset too." She explained peevishly to her husband as she gave Timothy a tight little smile.

Without breaking his stare at her, thus refusing to look at Timothy, Raymond asked Dorothy, "What, pray tell, have you heard that so upset you, dear wife?" Although there was no discernible rancor, he said his words with such flatness that it couldn't help but reinforce the state of his volatile emotions.

Despite the tense atmosphere, Dorothy charged forward. "He said that you'd been seen with a blonde-haired woman."

With a frown on his brow, Raymond motioned for her to continue.

"Other people had seen you two dining together in a very friendly way."

After a moment of silence in which Dorothy seemed to relish the seeming discomfort of her husband, Raymond asked somewhat reservedly, "Okay. What else?".

Sensing her husband was on less even footing, Dorothy pounced. "That you'd been seen entering a motel room with that woman." She declared it almost triumphantly.

"So, is it true?"

Nodding his head slowly, Raymond replied resignedly, "Yes, it's all true." His eyes flickered toward Timothy for just a moment, and he saw that worthless piece of dung smirking in satisfaction.

"AHA! MOTHERFUCKER! I GOT YOU-" Dorothy started up loudly in her righteous indignation.

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" returned Raymond more loudly. Then, in a stentorian tone, she said, "I meant it when I said leave if you were going to begin shouting and cussing. So leave!"

Just then, the doorbell rang. Its cheerful chimes rang melodiously in the chilled silence. "I think that's for one of you," said Raymond in a mysterious explanation.

A look of confusion mixed with uncertainty crossed both Dorothy and Timothy's faces at Raymond's cryptic message. Then the doorbell rang again. "Well, one of you should answer it," cheerily advised Raymond. A small smile played on his lips as he spoke.

"Oh, for pity's sake..." began Dorothy in annoyance as she turned toward the foyer to open the door.

Timothy had a look of concern that broached fear as he watched Dorothy's back as she opened the door.

A short plump woman practically burst in, who looked both harried and angry, pushing past an open-mouthed Dorothy. Coming to an abrupt halt in the center of the living room, she waved a folder in front of her as she spoke directly to Raymond, "Is it true?"

Nodding sadly, Raymond gently said, "I'm afraid it is. All of it's been verified by a bona fide investigator, Mrs. Hannity. And might I add, I sincerely apologize for meeting with you this way."

Sporting an angry frown, Vera Hannity replied, "No, I apologize for having to meet this way." Then she turned to face her husband, the now-cowering Timothy. With an extended arm and a stiff finger pointing at him, she ordered, "Get your ass home right now. We are going to have a come-to-Jesus meeting, and you're definitely not going to like it. Now go!"

The smirk of moments ago all but wiped from his face as he stared at the floor rather than look his wife in the face. "Yes, dear. I can explain."

"Don't you dare call me dear! And you will explain! A whole lot of things! Now get!"

Shoulder's slumped, Timothy Hannity shuffled out the front door, not daring to look at Dorothy as he left her home. Vera Hannity followed but stopped short of Dorothy, and looking contemptuously at her, she disdainfully said, "Slut."

Dorothy slowly closed the front door as she wondered what had just happened. How had things been so neatly turned around? Her husband! He's the one who did this!

"You fucktard! You're the one who cheated. You even admitted to it! I'm going to take everything that you own and hold precious. You just-"

"I never admitted to any such thing. What I admitted to was being seen with a blonde-haired woman as we dined together and when I escorted her to the motel room. But, you see, Dorothy, she isn't just any woman; she's a private investigator I hired out of Atlanta. She followed you and Timothy, off and on, for two months. But she got plenty of evidence during that time. When we met up, it was so she could give me what she'd collected. And to explain a few things, see, her husband is a lawyer, and incidentally, my divorce attorney. By the time Timothy had followed me, we were already wrapping up the investigation. When he saw me at the motel, I was going to see her husband, who'd accompanied her here. So, what did I care if he saw me with her?"

He heard a gasp of pain escape Dorothy's mouth as he explained the situation.

"Now as for you, the main thing is that the house stays with me, since I wholly owned it before I even met you. After that, we both keep our respective 401s. The savings and checking accounts have pretty much been depleted, along with paying monthly bills, our daughter's college tuition, and don't forget, the services of a private investigator. Those people aren't cheap." After a moment's thought, he added, "Also, my attorney. I had to pay him, of course."

He looked at his wife and saw her face twisted into an unpleasant grimace, as if she were in pain. "Oh, don't worry, I didn't leave you totally destitute. You have enough in the checking account to cover a divorce attorney and a place to live."

At his words, her grimace became a flowing river, and then her face took on an ugliness as she began to wail. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please Raymond. He didn't mean anything. Please! Forgive me. I'll change! I promise. I will. I really will. Please, oh, please!"

Snot began to run out of her nose as her broken heart fed her eyes with a relentless flow of tears. "I'm so sorry! So sorry! I beg you, forgive me!"

Unmoved by her seeming remorse, Raymond loudly spoke over her woeful cries, "If you and Timothy had just waited to come home just a bit later, everything would have been in place. But since you all decided to arrive early, it threw off the schedule. Anyway, your suitcases are packed and ready for you. They're in the foyer closet. The furniture..." Looking around briefly, Raymond continued. "The furniture you can keep--I've never liked it. But since you enjoyed it, I put up with it. So yeah, take it all. Anything you want. I'm going to refurbish all the rooms."

Whatever had sustained Dorothy for so many years had failed her in the end, as her wailing became louder and more desperate as her soon-to-be ex-husband calmly explained the dissolution of their property. It was as if he didn't care. That he admitted he'd never liked the furniture hurt her more than his finding out about her cheating.

Then the doorbell rang again.

"I think this time I can say with utmost certainty it's for you, so better answer it," said Raymond in a satisfied tone as he pulled suitcases out of the coat closet.

Still sobbing loudly and her face smeared with snot and tears, she answered the door as an automaton would.

The tall gentleman standing there seemed surprised to see her in such disarray, but without missing a beat, he asked, "Are you Dorothy Stevens?" At her slight nod, he asked her in a neutral voice to see her ID.

"What's this about?" asked Dorothy plaintively. Fear began as a growing knot in her stomach as she guessed at the man's intention.

"Please, Mrs. Stevens, will you show me your identification?" The man asked again, more sternly. Nodding jerkily, Dorothy went to her purse, quickly retrieved her driver's license, and also grabbed a few tissues in an attempt to clean her face. Back at the door, with a trembling hand, Dorothy extended her license to the patiently waiting man. After carefully examining her license and comparing the photo to the sheet of paper he held, the man nodded in satisfaction, then handed her a folded set of papers wrapped in blue and completed his spiel by saying, "You've been served. Thank you for your cooperation. Have a good day."

Then, before Dorothy could react further, he took a quick photo of her holding the folded papers with his cell phone. With a sudden numbness that reached her toes, she watched the man walk away quickly, enter his car, and drive off.

She'd stopped crying but renewed it as things began to sink in, as she stood dumbly in the doorway, silent, swaying, unfeeling, and empty, waiting without expectation for what she sensed was next to come.

A few seconds later, what appeared to be her sister, Kris, drove up with their mother. They parked along the curb but on the street, both exiting and rushing up to her.

"Are you okay, Dottie?" Kris asked with concern.

"What's wrong, dear?" her mom asked, with what Ray deemed feigned concern, as her eldest daughter just stood there, unresponsive.

Dorothy opened her mouth and moved her jaw up and down, but the only thing emerging was a low wail of pain.

Turning to the man, who was her son-in-law, Eva demanded an explanation from him.

"What did you do to my daughter?"

Shrugging, Raymond bent down to pick up one of Dorothy's cases, saying calmly, "Nothing. She did it."

An angry frown settled on her facial features at his response. "Stop with the riddles! What do you mean by that?" Eva commanded with haughty authority.

Walking up to his weeping wife and looking over her shoulder at his mother-in-law, he said, "She doesn't like the consequences of her cheating. One of those consequences was that I filed for divorce. Really, it's very simple." Before either of his in-laws could respond, he quickly continued. "Now, if you two would be so kind as to help Dorothy carry her clothing and suitcases to her car, she's really going to need all of this on a daily basis. That's why I asked you both to come here to help Dorothy. She can return to box the rest of her stuff. I'll even allow her to store all that stuff in the garage until she gets, I guess, a storage room."

Kris, taking in her sister's state, shared a bewildered look with her mother. "Dottie, is this true?" she asked, a hint of betrayal in her voice.

Dorothy, her eyes hollow and lost, could only nod amidst her sobs, her voice having deserted her in her time of need.

Eva, though never the softest person, pulled her daughter into an embrace, a clear sign of support regardless of the mistake. "You're coming with us, Dottie. You can stay in your old room for a while."

"But mom, the scandal--" Kris started, only to be silenced by a stern look from Eva.

"There will be no scandal, Kristine. Not beyond what's already happened. Family takes care of family. We'll deal with the rest later," Eva said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Raymond watched the scene, his heart heavy but his decision unyielding. He'd played the role of the understanding partner for too long, and Dorothy's betrayal was the final straw.

As Eva and Kris helped a broken Dorothy into the car, Raymond stepped forward. "Dorothy," he called out softly.

She turned towards him, her eyes a mess of confusion, pain, and a plea for something she herself couldn't understand.

"I hope you find what you're looking for--what you couldn't find with us. I really do," he said, his voice carrying a finality that spoke of a chapter closed and a bridge burned.

With that, he turned and walked back into the house, closing the door softly behind him. The sound was like an echo of the end of their many years together, resonating with a quiet agitation and sadness of a love that never was.

Inside the now-too-quiet house, Raymond stood alone in the middle of the living room. He glanced around at the furniture Dorothy had chosen and the decor she loved, all echoing a life that was no longer his and a woman he no longer knew. It was time for a new beginning, he realized. For both of them.

Taking a deep breath, he reached for his phone and dialed. "Hello, yes, is this the furniture donation center? I have some items to give away. Yes, all of it. It's time for a change."