"Hey girlfriend, have you done anything more about 'the List' yet?" giggled Helen.
"No more since the last item," replied Suze (don't call me Susan), "and don't talk too loud. You know Dave is working in his office. If he ever finds about about this, there will be hell to pay." This made both women explode into fits of laughter. Suze was my wife: my wife for the past twenty years and mother to our grown daughters, Janet and Edith. Helen has known Suze since high school and I would have to say, her best friend.
They didn't know it, but I knew just where to hang out when they got into these gossips and silly moods. The kitchen, which is where their so called conversations took place, was right next to the storage cupboard in my study. Suze always believed that I had sealed up the space, but some part of me stopped it, thinking that some time in the future, I could convert it into something useful. Recently I found it to be useful alright! Useful for eavesdropping on my wife and friends babbling on in the kitchen- a space that they considered safe talk space. I sometimes felt bad about this ability, but in the end, it was always innocent.
I could hear every word spoken, but I have to admit, the pace and topic changes which was their norm at these time, often left me wondering what the hell they were talking about! This wasn't one of those times. Them talking about lists was a normal thing. You see, Suze was a 'list-a-holic'. She made lists for everything. Literally everything. This was way beyond the normal grocery lists, the Christmas gift lists, the weekend away prep lists. She even kept these lists in a special note pad kept on her duchess in our room. Each item would be meticulously checked off when completed or purchased, or whatever. She even noted beside each item the date of completion and who was responsible if not herself. Nobody dared touch this list notebook. If anyone touched it, or moved it, Suze would explode into a person nobody wanted to be near. She was just a bit OCD about it and It drove our family mad at times, but admittedly, it meant that trips away, etc, were well organised. We lovingly called Suze the 'List Queen' with many fun greetings like, 'good morning, your list highness'. All good fun.
What I found intriguing about this conversation between her and Helen, was that this apparent list elicited such fits of giggling and almost secretive low whispering. That was not normal. Sure, I often listened to Helen light-heartedly ribbing Suze about her 'damm lists' and Suze fending her off just as light-heartedly, but this didn't feel the same. I have a well developed gut-instinct when something isn't kosher.
I usually work from my home office as a forensic accountant which means that I get to do the boring accountancy stuff specifically to try catch out thieves operating within a company's financial department. You would be surprised how creative some of these people get just to skim off money from their employers. I often mused about how much more successful these crims would be if they just applied their creativity to earning an honest living.
I am fairly good at my field mainly because of this feeling I get when things aren't as they should be. I wouldn't go so far as to call it ESP or anything, but to me it is a real thing which I rarely ignore.
I make more than enough for our family to enjoy an upper middle class lifestyle. Suze doesn't need to work, but spends a great deal of time helping out as a volunteer at an inner city charity which provides free medical care and shelter for homeless people. Her role there is to provide the secretarial support and coordinate visiting professionals, such as doctors and legal personnel who operate on a pro-bono basis. I am always proud of her efforts and her unselfish attitude towards this task. Her list-making obsession made her the perfect person for the job. Nothing was left to chance with her preparations, whether it was for determining how much bed linen to have available over a weekend, or organising the travel itineraries for visiting doctors. She occasionally needs to travel to other cities to compare their operations with our own. This travel though, only occurred after our two daughters left home to attend university. That's another thing I was proud about with Suze. She was a great mum!
My mind would not leave this new list alone. I wracked my brain trying to work out what the list was detailing, but the nearest I could get to anything like a satisfactory topic was Suze's birthday which was coming up. It was going to be her fortieth and to Suze that was a biggie. The exact date of her birthday is 10 August. Mine was just two weeks after hers, so part of me wanted to believe that she was planning to make our milestone and passage into official middle age a memorable one.
This idea was partly confirmed at Helen and Suze's next session of gossip on steroids, where Helen managed to warn Suze that she didn't have long to complete her list, as she was going to be forty soon. By the way, I did try to find this mysterious list in the usual notebook, but to no avail.
"I know! I know. Don't keep reminding me. I am going as fast as I dare. Look. I'll show how far I have gone," Suze said excitedly.
"This should be interesting," I thought. "Maybe I'll get some sort of a clue here." I listened as Suze could be heard rummaging through her handbag. I heard a zip being pulled and then pages being turned.
"Ah, so she keeps the list in her handbag instead of in the usual place," I realised. That was interesting by itself!
"Now, let's see," said Suze.
"Wait a minute what does all of this code mean?" interrupted Helen.
"I am only being cautious you nut," replied Suze. "If Dave ever finds this, but I suspect he won't, because he wouldn't be caught dead going through a lady's handbag, he won't have a clue about its contents."
"Clever girlfriend," giggled Helen. "So number one. It says, SED OM. So what does SED MEAN?"
"It means seduce."
"What? What did she say? Did she 'seduce'?" My mind went into a freeze as my gut spun around uncontrollably. My hearing tunneled to the overheard conversation. I must have missed some of it while in turmoil because the next thing I heard was:
"Suze, did you really seduce him? He is a hunk. Give me details you naughty girlfriend!"
"Yes," I agreed. "Give me details!" I didn't know if I wanted to hear this, but my morbid curiosity and growing sense of rage rooted me to the spot. I was conflicted. Part of me wanted to get up there and confront Suze, but my sense of dread kept me frozen.
"Well, I had to take him on a tour of the consulting rooms available at the shelter, so I took a quite sexy outfit with me to work and changed into it just before he had to be picked up from the airport. Of course I had to pick him up. I made sure that he sat in the front passenger seat by putting his overnight bag in the back seat. you would be amazed how much your skirt rides up your legs while you are driving and of course, I undid two of my shirt buttons. Just a tantalising hint of better sights to see. I wanted to know if he was interested first."
"And was he?" Helen breathlessly whispered.
"Oh boy was he!" Suze, my Suze replied. "He couldn't keep his eyes on the road! He kept thinking of reasons to look out of my side of the car. He had dark glasses on which made him think that I couldn't see where his eyes were, but I had angled the side mirror so that I could see exactly what was holding his attention. He is obviously a tits and legs man, because he kept alternating between the two. And, he kept shifting in his seat as if he was uncomfortable, you know, in the groin area. Men are so easily led, I couldn't believe that it was so easy. Any way after that small entre, he was ripe for more by the time we arrived. I kept finding reasons to touch his arms, or brush up against him as we were looking at the rooms. Once, I had to lean past him to get the bundle of legal forms he had sign before working here. I made sure that my tits ever so slightly rubbed his arm. My nipples were so turned on, they physically hurt! I have never felt them so big! Anyway he really had to adjust his clothing after that. I made to get up and go, but he found lots of reasons to stay seated while he apparently regained control of his dick."
Both women burst into fits of laughing at this point. I, meanwhile had to leave. My heart rate was through the roof and I could feel my blood pressure playing havoc with my neck. I wanted to heave there and then, but managed to hold it until I reached the ensuite that I had attached to my office. Believe me, there is nothing like the feelings of helplessness and emptiness that a good chuck accomplishes. They matched the same feelings in my heart at that point. An unending cycle of one word questions revolved around inside my head, maybe even aloud. I honestly didn't know. I was numb.
I sat there for I don't know how long, but eventually the numbness evolved into rage. Red, blinding rage! Twenty years! Twenty bloody years and she does this to me. Does this to our marriage, our kids. After all of the time, blood sweat and tears, and admittedly joy, that we had committed to our marriage and this is what she does.
After the anger settled itself at the bottom of my stomach, my mind once again took over. Again the questions. "How long? Why? Who with? How come I didn't see it coming?" I usually had an instinct about something rotten, but not this time. Why? Why? Why? The answer hit me like a bolt of lightning, right between my eyes to the core of my brain and the centre of my heart. "It's because you love her and always trusted her. Those other situations involved people that you didn't know and that you already suspected of being rotten. You never expected that of the love of your life!" is what the logical side of my brain said to the now scrambled emotional side.
I heard Helen leave and could already sense Suze pottering in the kitchen. "Shit," I mumbled. "I can't be here right now with her. I need to get out while I still can. I need to get some semblance of control, so that this doesn't turn into a chook's breakfast."
I quickly grabbed my briefcase and took off out the back door towards my car in the front driveway. Suze always parked hers in the garage.
"Where are you off to Dave?" I heard her yell from the kitchen. "Dinner will be ready in thirty."
"I need to meet a client. Just realised. I could be late, so don't wait up. Bye."
Nothing unusual about that. I did often meet clients, but not usually around dinner time and I did normally leave after kissing my wife and saying roughly what time to expect me back. I couldn't do that this time though.
My car drove itself to the nearest pub where I somehow found myself a nice quiet corner to hide in. I don't think I even registered the first two beers, but after that I did. I think the fourth one started the buzz that numbed my stomach enough that my roaring rage was dulled to simply anger.
I looked around. I knew this pub. I sometimes came here with clients so that we could discuss their expectations over a quiet beer and pub feed. I even knew most of the bar staff. "Hey Georgie Girl, another pint over here please."
