Swib 04: After She Fired Him

There are those who think my intros are too long -- skip down to the string of pluses. There are those who don't like my stories, yet read and comment on them, anyway. To everyone else, thanks for reading and commenting my stories. I enjoy comments, both positive and negative. It does amuse to see "anonymous" people being derisive to a pseudonym. Many comments are useful, oddly even some of the negative, and I do appreciate them all.

I enjoy reading stories that have the protagonist walk away happy while those who have wronged him lie in some absolute wreckage. I prefer to write, however, about things closer to my experience.

This story has the element of retribution. If you are looking for BTB, you will be disappointed. I shaded the ending, which I like -- I hope you do too.

The theme of a wife firing her husband has been explored by many. In those stories the hurt experienced by such betrayal is understandably a major part of the telling. Since that has been done, I wanted to pick up the theme after the firing/pain/divorce.

The story I will tell involves the new husband trying to determine if the wife, who'd fired her previous husband is the woman he thought her to be. It is common in these stories to present multiple points of view, making the protagonist's choice more obvious. Since in life we don't get to know multiple points of view, this story is told solely in the first person.

The basic story is Sue and Mike Lawrence had marital problems during/after his career problems. The problems ended in divorce. Sue met and married Larry Compton. This tale begins a few days before Christmas.

Again, SWIB is a self-coined acronym;

S

he

W

anted

I

t

B

adly. For those keeping score, the acronym was for Bad, the previous times and Badly this; because the "it" desired in this story is different. This use of variable acronyms could be a break-through (or a breakdown) in the use of such devices in literature. Like the previous 3 SWIB tales this story is completely stand alone.

Lastly, the city in the story is not named. It might be similar to Atlantic City, NJ but I don't know enough about that city to write about it. The story, its location, and all characters are complete fiction.

++++++++

"I'll get it!" My wife, Sue, shouted up the stairs. She was on her way to answer the doorbell. I guess she thought I was upstairs, instead of reading my eBook in the unlit den. I had started to get up since I was only a few feet from the front door, but when she said she'd do it, I settled back down. I've only been living here a couple of weeks. It is unlikely the knock was for me.

"Oh, what do you want?" my wife's voice was full of contempt.

"I have the boy's child support payment for the next three months. If I could, I'd like to give them their Christmas presents." Clearly the speaker was Mike Lawrence, Sue's recent ex.

"Well, you can't. This is not a good time. You can pick them up on the weekend, and give them their gifts, then."

"Sue, be reasonable. You know I don't have a car. I lost my company car when you fired me."

"Mike let's not go through the past. It is past. We are divorced. You have visitation rights, and I will see the boys are always available to that schedule. But they are getting used to a new man in this house. It would be confusing to them for you to also spend time with them. Make arrangements to have them to your new home."

"Well, that's the thing. I don't have a home. I am forced to leave town. This is my only chance to see the boys. Please, we had good years together, until you decided to move on. Let me see my boys. It will be my last chance for a while."

"I'm sorry, no."

I had to think fast. Nothing was adding up in what I was hearing. I cannot imagine my wife denying her kids seeing their father. I was out of sight of the foyer. The front door, when opened, blocked the view into the den. I quickly got up and said, "Why is the door open?"

I walked into the foyer and saw my wife standing, blocking her ex's entrance to the house. "Oh! Mike, isn't it? I'm Larry Compton. I'm sorry I fell asleep and didn't hear the doorbell. Why don't you ask him in, Sue?"

Sue looked at me as though I'd peed on her shoes. "I am

handling

this, dear." she said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, I'm sure you are. But no matter what your past, surely the man could come inside, it is freezing cold."

Sue took a step back, allowing him in the door, but still essentially blocking entry to the house. Mike stepped in and to the side, I closed the front door. Sue's position told me I still had work to do.

"Boys!" I shouted up toward their bedrooms, "your dad is here." It is an amazing thing about children, verbal communication is easily heard when they like the topic and unheard when they don't. In an instant, both were out of their rooms, down the stairs and hugging their dad. Sue was looking at me like her current marriage was unlikely to last if her husband didn't wise up.

Mike was having difficulties holding the boys, he had a wrapped box, in each hand. "What are the boxes?" said, the younger boy, Billy. Even at six he knew it was December 21st and two boxes plus two brothers equaled presents.

For the first time in my limited (to two meetings, including this one) association with Mike, I saw his eyes light up. He had a plan. "They're your Christmas presents, boys. I was hoping to give them to you early." He looked at Sue.

Both boys stared at their mother. "Can we open them now, Mom?" said Tom (too 'grown up' to be Tommy, at 10). Sue looked like she was lost in the wilderness. Clearly there was one answer, yes; and she didn't want to say it, but could think of nothing else.

I decided, since there was no way I could hurt myself any further, she was already fuming at me -- so why not? "Sure boys, that is a great idea. Why don't you go to the family room? Sue, could you make them some hot chocolate and give Mike a cup of coffee?"

She knew she'd look bad saying anything else and smiled, warmly. "What a wonderful idea. We can all sit and watch them opened."

"No, I think I'll see them to the family room and when you get the drinks together, I'll go back to my book. This is time for you four."

Sue hesitated but turned and went to the kitchen. The boys went the other way, through the dining room, toward the family room. Mike was going with them. I grabbed his arm. He turned toward me.

"Mike, I heard your conversation. I have a condominium, about four blocks from here. Do you know Carling Towers?"

"Sure."

"I will leave you my key and a note on the front porch when you leave. Please take it and spend the night there. I want to talk to you in the morning. I did not understand why Sue wouldn't let you in. Will you do that?"

"No, Larry. I am not into charity from a wife-stealer."

"Mike, I promise you, it will be worth your while and not involve charity. I will leave the key and a note. At least read the note. Promise me."

"Look, I have a few minutes to spend with my boys. Let me do that. Since I wouldn't even have that, without your help. I'll read your note."

We went into the family room. Mike settled in with the boys and Sue was nearly finished with the drinks and cookies. I headed back to my den.

I sat at my computer. I had little time to compose a note.

Mike,

I overheard your conversation with Sue. It disturbed me, greatly. We need to talk. My understanding of who you are changed dramatically.

I don't know how long your unwrapping is going to last. So, I must get this note on the front porch, quickly. Let me say this. I would never, knowingly steal a man's wife. I was told your marriage was over, and over long before Sue and I started any romantic relationship. I heard you quit your job, to be away from her.

There is no reason for you to believe me. But, if you have no better place to stay, enjoy my warm condo for the night, talk with me tomorrow about 8:00 am, and tell me I'm full of shit, if that is what you believe. At least you'll have had a good night.

Use any of the bedrooms. I don't know what food or drink is there, but you are welcome to anything and everything.

Larry

I printed the document, got an envelope, put the key and the note in the envelope and put it on the last step from the porch. The porch was three steps above the yard. I was sure Mike would see the note, while leaving, but Sue would not see it from the door. I saw no chance Sue would walk him out.

I could have written a longer note. The boys drug out the visit for more than an hour. Hopefully, the note had enough information. The temperature was supposed to drop into the teens tonight. If the note didn't convince him, hopefully homelessness plus the note would.

Shit! Shit! Shit! This is precisely what I worried about. Sue is my second wife. We have been married only weeks - since the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Her divorce was final a few days earlier than that.

My first wife and I met in college, her at Penn and me at the Wharton Business School. We fell in love, married, and settled into a beautiful home in the country. We lived in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, but most of my business was conducted in neighboring New Jersey.

My business is real estate development. I am great at raising money and putting people together to rehabilitate areas in the surrounding communities like Newark, Trenton, Camden, and so forth. I have a gift for putting these deals together. We lived well.

Jane had majored in education. She was in college because it was what you did after high school. She chose education because of her love for children. That is all a polite way of saying she was looking for a husband. Truth told she was a person a bit out of time. She believed being a wife and mother was as high an achievement as any other pursuit.

When we met, I was taken aback at her atavistic views. But she was clever, funny, charming, beautiful, and a wonderful lover. Add to that she wanted to be a mother and home maker - for me and she was irresistible. We were a perfect couple.

The problem was I often left home on Monday morning and returned late on Friday. Week-after-week, with no end in sight. Then, tragedy.

My wife, and our daughter were murdered, in our home, by addicts looking for their next fix. Our home had elaborate security measures, but Jane had not armed them. She attempted to hit the panic alarm, triggering, literally, the murder of my two beautiful girls.

Because I was chasing success, I was not there to help. Because I was so successful, I needed to be there to help. My pursuit of success caused me to ignore of her insensitivity toward security. My failure caused her death. What ate at me was I chose a 1950s marriage, more than half-a-century too late. Sure, it is what Jane wanted, but I allowed her to live that life.

In that era, people were safe at home. Jane and I created beautiful lives for ourselves, inside the walls of our home. Jane isolated herself from the harsher realities of our times. We were in a wealthy area, with big, wooded lots and houses set well back from the road. Our home was not visible from the road, which made her feel safe.

It also made the addicts feel secure in their robbery attempt. No one knew of a break-in, until she triggered the panic alarm. While it alerted the police, it caused a wild-eyed addict to shoot her, then our daughter.

I was broken. All I had left was work. I started to pursue more - harder, and faster.

I didn't look for a second wife. I thought it unfair. Instead, I used my wealth to find temporary companionship. I was happy chasing, catching, and discarding (or as they used to say, finding, fucking, and forgetting). It wasn't right for me but in the short-term it fit. Then, I met Sue.

People in the foyer interrupted my musings. The boys were excited and bidding their father both a good night and a Merry Christmas. Sue was acting nicely and doing her best to shoo her ex out the door. Finally, she succeeded.

As he was leaving, Sue was taking the boys upstairs to bed. His eyes were red, he was on the verge of tears. I moved to speak with him, he pushed past me. I said, pointing toward it, "First step." He left the house and went down the stairs, he stepped past the envelope, but stopped, stood for a moment, turned, picked it up, tucked it in his coat pocket and went off into the night.

Nothing added up in this visit. The night is very cold. The wife's ex shows up on foot, in a jacket hardly suited for the weather. He just wants to see his children and were it not for my intervention, he'd have been sent packing. I'll ask Sue for an explanation.

She came down the stairs in a huff. "Why would you go against my expressed wish that man not enter our home?" She wasn't quite shouting.

Now, I had a decision to make. She had told me her ex quit his job; he said he was fired. I hoped to talk to him, tomorrow. I wanted as much information as I could get from her. Do I tell her what I am up to, or be deceptive? When in doubt -- lie.

"What do you mean? How would I know you didn't want the boy's father in the house?" I added a tone, similar in emotion and volume, to hers.

"You heard what I said!"

"Oh! That's what you think. In fact, I didn't. I was asleep in my chair. The cold air woke me, and I got up to see why the door was open."

Her tone changed, "You didn't hear our conversation?"

"Why? What are you hiding, or trying to hide?"

Her tone was defensive, "How dare you! I am not hiding anything. I just thought you'd heard and knew I didn't want him to come in and invited him, anyway."

I shook my head, smiling. I spoke much more softly, "You know me better than that. We need to take this down several decibels. Let's get a glass of wine and sit and talk. If there is some reason you don't want your ex around your boys, I want to know more about it."

I went to get the wine. I had a bad feeling - everything had been so perfect. Things are sometimes great; my experience is nothing is ever perfect.

I had been knocking around for nearly two years. I felt only two emotions: overwhelming sadness; and an emptiness, from my inadequacy. I was following two treatment regimens. For sadness, I worked insane hours and for emptiness I found companions. Being successful, I had companionship whenever I wanted it. Some men are concerned with their size or technique; those men don't have the confidence which comes from a big bank account. It is a shallow existence, but you get laid -- a lot.

Almost to a person, the women I met were happy with a one or two-time romance. I didn't feel badly for using them because they were using me, too. Don't get me wrong but a man can take only so much great food, fine wine, and constant sex.Displeased

as I was with this wanton existence, it relieved the emptiness and gave me delusions of adequacy.

My love and my daughter lay dead because I could not protect them, another woman didn't warrant the same fate. I vowed if I ever took another chance, something would have to be drastically different. So, I

suffered

through these hedonistic evenings.

The first time I met Sue, we had a great evening. I had not really talked to anyone in nearly two years. Sure, business communications and seductions; but no conversations. It was funny, this wasn't that much of a conversation, per se. Sue told me about what she did, and I told her what I did. But somehow in describing what we did, we were saying who we were. More than that, we were showing how similar we were.

We had talked for a few minutes before we introduced ourselves. When she said her name was Sue Lawrence, I asked if she was related to Mike Lawrence. Her countenance changed and she said, "Only by marriage", and paused. It made her uncomfortable; since I was not looking at her in any carnal way, I didn't pursue it.

We ended the evening with a handshake. I don't go out with married women, even for one evening. She made no indication she'd have accepted an offer, had I made one.

"I thought this Riesling would be good." I told her as I handed her a glass.

"I'm sorry if I sounded defensive." She paused, exhaled, and looked right at me, "No, I'm sorry to be defensive. I don't like my behavior and I apologize."

"That sounds more like the Sue I married. Tell me, why don't you want him in the house, at Christmas?"

"The boys are having a tough enough time adjusting. They had little in the way of parents when we were both busy, but once Mike fell on hard times, it was actually good for them."

We had never really talked about him. "What do you mean hard times?"

The reason I had asked Sue if she was related to Mike Lawrence at our first meeting was I had researched him as a potential business partner. Mike was a person whose skill set seemed like it might be useful. I had looked into several of the top people in town, Mike was the best choice for me; then there was Sue - and to avoid complications, I scratched Mike from my list.

Sue continued, "Mike was the manager of the Vegas Casino, Hotel, and Shops here. When the casinos declined, and the high-end town collapsed, he lost his job. The parent company wanted to move him to their premiere hotel in Las Vegas, but I'd just been promoted to VP of Sales, and didn't want to go."

Wow, that left him with nothing he could do, or had experience doing, at any salary close to what he made.

"Since he stayed, wasn't that a huge commitment to you and the boys?"

"Huge commitment or sacrifice? That was the issue. He had always made more money than I did, my promotion put me on a par with where he had been. My move up was significant; his move down was, well, it was devastating. He couldn't find his new role."

"And you fired him?"

Well that was stupid, I said I was asleep and didn't hear anything. Maybe she won't notice.

"Yes, he was working three levels below me and is not a salesman. We couldn't deal with it married, let alone divorced."

She paused for half-a-second. Shit, she caught my mistake. But she continued. I guess she decided not to call me on it.

Crap! I am trying to get honesty from her and am now caught in knowing things I said I slept through. On the positive side, she admitted she fired him. I suspect I'd say he quit, too. Why show you're heartless to a new husband? On the other hand, I must be honest if I want her to be. I wonder what she'll think about the possibility he stays to work with me?

"A high-end, casino manager has experience in all manner of things. Just the kind of guy a developer could use."

"He has something lined up. Let him go."

Her statement was too quick and dismissive. It was about getting rid of him, not about helping him use his talents. I guess that's normal, he is no longer her concern.

"What about your boys?"

"I don't know. You're right, I guess. You and he, working together, creeps me out."

"Well, there is that. Can't say I feel much differently. But I've been limited without a strong operations guy. He might be just that."

Her answers felt right. She was not trying to deceive and in fact, let me off the hook when she caught me being less than truthful.

I needed to hear from her ex. I wonder if he will talk to me. He called me a wife stealer. He thinks I was involved in her deciding their marriage was over. I may not even find him, tomorrow.

Sue passed this test, but I screwed up my chance to know more.

She smiled, then hugged me, "You're sweet. I saw that right away. That tough businessman has a soft core. It would be great for the boys if he lived here in town. If he is the right guy for you, that makes it all the better."

How does what she just told me stack up with my own memories?

The first time we met, we hit it off. She was wearing her wedding and engagement rings, so I did no flirting. But we made a connection. I was relatively new in town, and I was here because of the recent implosion of casinos in the city. It had been a fad, but foul Eastern weather led the big money back to Vegas.