Wife Wants Later Life Divorce

I've read numerous "Flash Stories" on this site, so I decided to give it a try. I had no idea how hard it is to write a story that makes any sense using so few words. I tip my hat to those writers who have done it many times.

I stared at the divorce papers on the table in front of me. My name is Jason Adams, and my wife, Joan, of thirty-three years, had just served me with divorce papers.

I couldn't believe that after all that time and raising two boys, Rick and Randy, my wife wanted to be rid of me. What hurt even worse was that Joan presented me with the divorce papers the day I returned from the hospital after my heart procedure.

I knew we had drifted, but until that moment, I never realized how much. My wife now had no love or respect for me. Joan made a point of telling me that she was leaving because she wouldn't spend her life caring for a fat, sickly slob. Also, she made it abundantly clear that she had been cheating on me for almost a year with Harold Standish, her tennis partner at our country club. Harold was a man I detested.

I have to admit that I had gained about twenty-five pounds, and I was having a hard time performing sexually. But having all of my failings thrown in my face was devastating. Then Joan left.

The divorce was simple. We both worked, so the division of assets was straightforward. Still, the loneliness and depression overwhelmed me. Thank God for my few really good friends.

When I told the boys, they didn't take the news very well. The boys and Joan were not close, and their subsequent discussion went very badly; they disowned her. Of course, Joan blamed me.

I wanted revenge in the worst way but powerless to do anything. There was no way I could hurt either of them. I felt like such a loser. All I could do was move on.

Playing golf, however, was much more enjoyable now as I wasn't always tired.

One Saturday, my life changed for the better. I showed up to play with our regular foursome to find out that one of our regulars, Fred, wasn't there. Paul and John, the other two members, explained he had relocated to Virginia to be near his children.

As a threesome, we had the right to refuse to take on a fourth. However, one day, I saw a woman trying to get out as a single. She wasn't beautiful, although she had a pleasant appearance about her. She was about five-ten, thin with small breasts, and had the build of a long-distance runner. She seemed sad not being able to play. I felt sorry for her and convinced my partners to take her on.

Mandy Taylor proved to be an excellent golfer. She played from the same tees as we did and soon was accepted as the fourth member of our foursome. Even Paul and John's wives liked her.

Over the weeks that we played, I learned Mandy was widowed and had come south from Chicago because she was tired of the winters. We became friends without benefits.

One night at a club dinner/dance, our foursome plus wives were at our table when Joan and Harold danced by. Joan had decided that she would be especially hateful that night, throwing one snide comment after another at me. On the fourth pass, Joan made a nasty comment about my sexual inadequacies. On their fifth pass, Mandy slipped into my lap and kissed me full on the lips. Joan was startled and passed without comment.

Fred, Paul, their wives, and I looked at Mandy in semi-shock. Mandy just giggled and said, "your ex-wife's a bitch. Besides, considering what's poking me right now, she doesn't have a clue about your sexual potential."

That night, when I took Mandy home, she dragged me into her bedroom, and I left the following day on wobbly legs. From then on, our relationship grew into true love. We were married a year later.

About a year after our marriage, I hadn't seen Joan or Harold for some time. After inquiring, I was shocked to learn that they had been in a car accident. Harold was paralyzed, now living in a nursing home, while Joan had suffered some nerve damage.

Three months later, I saw Joan limp into the dining room. It seemed that her left side was partially paralyzed. She sat alone.

I nodded and smiled at Joan as my wife and I danced on by. Tears began flowing down her cheeks as she watched us. I did feel sorry for her, but as they say, life's a bitch, and her name is Karma.