Here you go loyal followers.
Another tale of cheating and woe.
Enjoy!
The Ides Of March
The divorce certificate arrived today. It was addressed to me, Bill Saunders. There was no fanfare, no personal courier, just a hastily folded manilla envelope stuffed into the small apartment mailbox housed in the apartment building's foyer. It wasn't unexpected. I had known that it would arrive eventually. The timing was in a sense prophetic. The tenth of March.
March was always a shitty month for me. My parents were killed in a car crash on March twentieth three years ago. Two of my uncles had died in March, albeit in more natural circumstances. It seemed that March was a month for deaths. The deaths of my family and now, the death of my marriage.
The last breath of my marriage was in March, but the terminal illness had started many months before.
We were both accountants and met in university. It was a whirlwind romance which surprised both of us with its intensity. We were both quite timid in nature and not wont to snap decisions, but there it was. Smill's Accounting Services gave us both jobs upon graduation and we soon settled into a comfortable existence with time for each other, an apartment close to our work and enough money to enjoy the occasional luxury. It was there, in that apartment, that the snake entered our lives.
We had been together as a married couple for about five years, when we began to get sucked into that first world dream of owning a large four-bedroom house in a safe suburb. It had to have all of the mod-cons, a two-car garage and room for a pool and entertainment deck out the back. It would be the centre of our social life, the centre of our future children's lives and be a symbol to all and sundry that we had made it, so to speak. We got sucked in good. Our post-coital cuddles and snuggles nearly always included extravagant plans for this dream existence.
There was only one problem. We didn't make enough money to afford even the deposit on such a building.
The solution to that problem made itself known to us via a company email, circulated to all employees. The company was expanding into forensic accounting and needed some volunteers to undergo training for this. One successful candidate would then be the company's lead auditor. Rochelle and I discussed the possibilities each night for weeks, until we finally agreed that I would try for it. Rochelle decided to stay in the general accounting hall as she felt comfortable there. The job they were offering attracted a huge increase in salary, mainly because it involved a great deal of travel and out-of-town overnight stays. There was no flight time available. All travel was in a company car.
After an initial training period, the four who completed that training were informed that I was the one chosen to do the work. I would be the one to start this new phase of company services. There were some mumbles and grumbles among the other three about my success and there was certainly no love lost among us.
Rochelle and I were ecstatic when I was chosen. Here was the way to achieve our long-held dream of living in yuppy heaven. Calculating our financial situation, which as accountants, was second nature to us, we realised that only eighteen months of this would see us through. We entered this new phase of our lives with hope, excitement and promise.
The reality soon hit home, however.
The nightly stay-aways became two nights, then three, then occasionally weekly. My reputation as an auditor grew immensely. It seemed that I had a real knack for it. The company, of course was extremely impressed with my efforts and paid me numerous bonusses for my efforts. Our financial situation improved immensely. That pot of gold we needed for our deposit on our dream purchase was filling faster than either Rochelle or I imagined. We often spoke about my long absences, but Rochelle assured me that it was fine, and besides, it was only for a short time.
However, the snake's venom was working its evil.
Over the last six months of my travelling, Rochelle and I were becoming more and more distant. I was always too tired from the travel and constant pressure to perform while on the road. Rochelle was getting used to me not being around. Often, when she had the weekend off, I would be on the road. When I had my two days off, Rochelle was at her normal work. We didn't even meet in the offices as I often arrived late from travelling and had to finish up the reports at the office after everyone had gone home. I very often didn't meet a soul from the office. That also meant getting home late with Rochelle already in bed. We were losing our connection, our intimacy. We were a couple who, early in our marriage, spent every spare minute together. We were inseparable. Our whole relationship was based on this abundance of time together, so when that started to disappear, our relationship began to change.
Cuddles turned into quick hugs. Kisses turned into pecks. Conversation turned into snipes about this and that. Fault was found everywhere. Peace was found apart. My time on the road was my solace. The rot had set in.
It was actually no surprise when one Saturday night, we found ourselves sitting quietly in the lounge, in separate lounge chairs, without anything to say to each other. We each looked into the other's eyes and knew. It was over. The love and dreams we shared were gone. We were once again two separate people simply living in the same house. I didn't know what Rochelle was thinking and she didn't ask about what was going through my mind.
The snake's path was set.
Divorce papers were signed without fanfare or acrimony. We both realised that challenging the inevitable only paid the solicitor's bills. The whole process was smooth and quick. Even the court appointed counselling was merely a formality. People often comment about the boring nature of accounting, so it came as no surprise that the whole divorce process between Rochelle and myself was clinical and, yes, boring! We both ended up with quite a stash of money from our savings and would be able to survive quite easily. Rochelle kept the house by signing into the mortgage and I simply moved into a one-bedroom apartment. She stayed where she was employment-wise, as did I. Even though we both worked for the same company still, it was like we were in different worlds. My travels kept me away from the main offices for most of the week. I had no desire to mix with the usual old co-workers and lost all contact with them. No office parties, no gossip in the tearoom. This arrangement suited me perfectly as it kept me away from Rochelle and her cohort.
So, here I was, just another guy drinking alone in a bar, breathing the same air as all the other patrons drinking alone. I wondered how many of us were here for the same reason. Pretending to be in company when we were all really alone has to be one of the saddest existences there is. That was me. I wasn't angry at our divorce. I wasn't bitter. I was just sad. All of our dreams had evaporated into thin air, just like that. Reflecting on the reasons, it was plain, even from the counselling sessions, that Rochelle and I had simply drifted apart. We lost time for each other. The snake's poison had tainted our dreams into a nightmare from which there was no escape.
My reverie was interrupted by a noisy pair of guys who entered my bar space and loudly ordered another round of drinks. I didn't know these guys, but I knew that they would soon impose their company on anyone sitting near them, which was me.
"Hey that Rochelle and Alan sure know how to throw a party," one guy said.
"Too right. I wonder why they took so long to get hitched. Did you get an eyeful of the bridesmaid on the end? She is a looker. Apparently, she works at Smills as well. Actually, I think all of the wedding party works there. That groom, lucky bastard, only started working there a year ago and immediately took a liking to Rochelle. God, what I would give to have one night with her under the sheets with me."
By now, my ears were burning and my breathing was so shallow, I thought I would suffocate. I needed to know more. "Hey, you two, mind if a lonely old drinker joins you?" I asked.
"No problem. Me and Jack here were just saying what a lucky bastard that Alan was. Sorry. You don't know who we are talking about, huh? Alan is an accountant at Smill's Accounting Services. So is his now wife, Rochelle. We were just at his wedding. He at long last made his claim on Rochelle legal and official. What a blast the wedding was. I think everyone from Smills was there. Do you know Smills? We all call it the SAS. Smills Accounting Services. We don't work there, but we drink at the same bar usually as the workers from there. Where do you work umm, buddy?"
"Call me Bill. I work as an auditor for a large accounting firm as well. Most people in the firm wouldn't know it though because I am on the road ninety-nine percent of the time. I only report to my boss and that is it. Tell me more about this wedding. Seems like it was a hoot."
