If anyone had told Jerome when he was younger that he'd have to start his entire life over when he was fifty, he'd have told them they were crazy. He and Lena had married right out of college, after dating for two years. They had kids, they had fights, they had wild make-up sex. Everything was perfect.
Until two months after Jerome's fiftieth birthday, when Lena came home one night and said, "I've met someone else. I'm sorry, Jerome, I just don't love you anymore."
Jerome felt like he'd been bludgeoned over the head. "You what? Everything's fine! Everything's been fine!"
"I've been seeing someone for six months and you haven't even noticed." Lena matter-of-factly set her keys on the table in front of him. "I'm leaving, Jerome. I'm sorry. You've given me a good life, but now it's time to start a new one. Good luck."
"You can't just walk out!"
"Yes, I can. I'll come back for my things while you're at work tomorrow. Allie has a key; she'll let me in. I'm sorry, Jerome. It's over." She walked out.
Jerome spent the night in a fog. Thirty years together. How could Lena throw it away so easily? How could he not have known she was screwing around on him?
He woke the next morning with a dark cloud over him. It was one of the few times in almost three decades that he hadn't found Lena beside him in the morning. And this time, she wasn't coming back. Even if she changed her mind and wanted to return, he wouldn't let her, not knowing that she'd fucked someone else.
Mechanically, Jerome went through his workday routine. He toyed with the idea of calling in sick; he couldn't imagine getting through a day at the office now that his entire life had changed. But Lena had said she'd be stopping by for her things, and he definitely didn't want to be there when she showed up. There was nowhere to go but work, so he went.
When Jerome returned home at the end of the day, he wandered through the house, taking note of everything Lena had removed. It wasn't really much; her personal belongings and a few CDs and DVDs that she'd particularly liked. Everything else was the same as he'd left it, except for the note and papers on the kitchen table.
Jerome picked up the note and read it. "Dear Jerome, everything I want has been removed from the house. I want our marriage to end as painlessly as possible, so I'm not asking you for anything other than what I've already taken. Please sign the divorce papers I've left so we can get this over with. Sincerely, Lena."
Right. Sign the papers. Jerome's first thought was to burn the goddamn things. Lena didn't even have the balls to give him the papers face to face; she had to leave them on the fucking kitchen table? Well, fuck her! But Jerome resisted the impulse. Clearly Lena had already moved on. Why hold onto someone who didn't want to be held onto? He would sign the papers the next morning and drop them off on his way to work. Like the note said, might as well get it over with.
* * *
The divorce was granted within two months. Jerome didn't contest anything Lena had said, so the court hearing was quick and easy. Irreconcilable marital differences. Judicial way of saying, "My wife fucked me over," as far as Jerome was concerned.
A few more months went by, and Jerome settled into a new routine of cooking, cleaning, working, and trying to sleep. He didn't give himself time for any fun; nothing would have been fun without Lena. For those months, Jerome didn't even leave the house except to work. But one Friday, two of his coworkers stopped at his desk. "There's a get-together at the bar at the corner tonight," Brenna, one of the receptionists said. "We're telling everyone. You should come."
"I don't think so," Jerome replied. "I don't go out much."
"We've noticed," Nora, another receptionist, said. "That's why we wanted to make a point of inviting you."
"A handsome man like you shouldn't spend all his time alone," Brenna said. "If you come, I promise I'll dance with you."
"What a tempting offer." Though Jerome wasn't as much tempted as intrigued. Brenna was quite a bit younger than he was; he guessed her age to be somewhere in the early thirties. And she was very attractive. She must be desperate for someone to join her and Nora that night if she was offering to dance with an old man like him.
"It's a genuine one." Brenna winked. "You should give yourself a chance, Jerome. Have you gone out at all since your divorce?"
Of course the entire office knew about his marriage falling apart. Gossip traveled fast. "No, I haven't, and thanks for reminding me," Jerome snapped.
"I'm sorry. I'm such an idiot."
"No. I'm an old grump, and I overreact sometimes. It hasn't been that long; the wound's still fresh. But that doesn't give me a right to bark at you."
Brenna's smile lit up her face. "You aren't old, and you aren't overreacting. But if you want to make it up to me, you can come to the bar tonight. Right after work; none of us are bothering to change or anything."
"I'll be there."
Chatting between themselves, Brenna and Nora moved on to their next victim. Jerome went back to the stack of papers on his desk. The last thing he wanted to do was go to a bar and hang out with his younger coworkers. He'd never been much for night life; he'd never had an opportunity for it. Lena had been more of a homebody, content to spend nights cuddling in front of the TV. And Jerome had been more than happy to indulge that. A bar would be loud, smoky, and crowded. But maybe that was just what he needed. Maybe a change of scenery would help him get past Lena's betrayal.
By the end of the workday, Jerome had accepted the idea of going to the bar. He didn't anticipate having any fun, but at least it would be a delay in going home and eating his solitary supper. He shut down his computer and stood just as Brenna came around the corner. "Ready to go?" she asked.
"Just about." Jerome neatened the items on top of his desk. "Are you collecting everyone you asked?"
"Nope. Just making sure my dance partner is coming. Or did you forget I made you a promise?"
"I didn't forget. I just didn't believe a beautiful young woman like you would be serious about dancing with me."
"You sell yourself short." Brenna took his arm and led him toward the exit. "And you give me too much credit. You're a good-looking man, Jerome. If you asked me, I'd date you."
That caught Jerome off-guard. "I'm probably old enough to be your father."
"How old are you?"
"Fifty. Remember the black balloon on my desk back awhile?"
"Ah, yes. And I'm thirty-five. So I suppose biologically you're old enough to be my father, but you aren't old as far as I'm concerned."
"So you had an ulterior motive in asking me to go to the bar, huh?"
Brenna blushed. "Truthfully, yes. I've seen you every day for the past few months come in, sit down, and barely speak to anyone. I know you must have been hurt by your divorce. I've been there; it's been a year and a half for me. My ex-husband was fucking the next door neighbor's daughter. She was twenty, he was forty. He told me he was leaving after he found out he'd knocked her up. Ten years I'd been begging him to have children, and he knocked up some preppy college bitch."
Jerome wasn't sure what to say. "I'm sorry."
"No, I'm sorry." Brenna pasted a smile back on her face. "I didn't mean to unload that on you. Heaven knows you have your own problems. But I wanted you to understand you aren't the only one who's been hurt. There comes a time when you have to just say fuck it and move on."
"I'm too old to move on," Jerome said.
"You're never too old to let yourself have a good life. Come on, let's get to the bar; everyone's probably waiting."
"Everyone" turned out to be fewer than a dozen people. Apparently Brenna and Nora's pitch for an office get-together hadn't been very successful. But those who did show up seemed happy to be there. Jerome surprised himself by enjoying the chatter and jokes. And Brenna's company made it even better.
After a few hours, people started to leave. "Are you heading home?" Brenna asked Jerome.
"Might as well. It's a Friday; I'll see what's on TV if anything. Or maybe just go to bed. How about you?"
"I'm looking at about the same thing." Brenna hesitated. "Maybe we could see what's on TV together?"
