John picked up his phone and checked the incoming message from his wife, Tracy. "Going to be another late night at work."
He sighed as he put the phone down. Things had been great for two years. Then, three months ago, the late nights at work had started. Sex was nothing more than a fond memory, and she was distant — at best — whenever she was home. Any attempt to talk about things resulted in a fight.
Though he had only circumstantial evidence — such as newly purchased bras and panties in the laundry that were hardly everyday wear — he was certain she was cheating on him.
It didn't take much of that for him to go from heartbroken to resigned. The marriage was over. It was just a matter of which one of them would broach the subject first. While he was on the verge, so long as he stayed out of her way when she was home, the situation was tolerable. He was essentially alone already, but without the expense of a divorce and effort of moving out.
The front door opened and his stepdaughter Jillian — or Jilly as she preferred — walked in to ask, "Where's Mom?"
"She has to stay late at work again," John answered.
Jilly rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath. "I guess I'll make something for dinner then. You hungry?"
He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "I'll find something. Just make whatever you want."
"Well, I was going to make spaghetti, and it's just as easy to make that for two as one."
He had to admit that sounded good. "Well, if you don't mind?"
She flashed him a brilliant smile and said, "Not at all. Be ready in a jiff."
With that, she hurried off to the kitchen with her long, blonde pigtails bouncing.
John shook his head and chuckled. For most of the relationship, he'd barely interacted with Jilly. Teenage girls are not exactly keen to spend time at home with parental figures, so it hadn't really bothered him. She'd decided to take a gap year before going to college, and that had resulted in her being home more. She was like a little storm cloud of young adult angst whenever her mother was home, but lightened up the moment Tracy walked out the door. It was the one bright spot in his life, as her bubbly exuberance was somewhat contagious.
The spaghetti was soon on the table. "That really hit the spot," he said as he sat back after he finished eating.
"Thanks," Jilly said with a smile.
When she started to pick up her plate, he said, "No, you cooked, so I'll take care of the dishes. It's the least I can do."
"No argument from me," she said as she rose from the table.
John rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. He knew that was a luxury he was going to miss when the inevitable happened. He wasn't going to be able to afford anything like that for a long time, most likely. Once the dishwasher was running, he grabbed a beer from the fridge, and sat down to relax in front of the television.
A little over an hour later, Jilly walked into the front room and asked, "Could you do me a favor?"
"What is it?"
"Is there any way I could order something and have it sent to your post office box?"
He was surprised she even knew about the post office box. He'd written some shareware games in the nineties, and while they were severely outdated, a few people still downloaded them every now and then. Because the address was coded as the contact in the game, a few payments and other correspondence showed up there, so he maintained it. It always made him smile when someone showed appreciation for those games.
"Why not have it sent to the house?" he asked.
"Well, I really don't want Mom to find out about it."
That was a red flag. "I don't know if hiding something from your mother is a good idea."
"It's nothing illegal or anything," she quickly countered. "It's just... Well, it's a vibrator."
John's face burned. He hadn't the foggiest idea how to respond to that. He had no idea how to even process Jilly and sex being connected in any way.
"It's so weird, I know," she said. "Please? I just don't want to deal with Mom."
He glanced at her, and his face somehow flushed even hotter. He locked his eyes on the television and fumbled for a response. "It's... I..."
"Please? Pretty please?" she pleaded.
It was getting more uncomfortable by the moment, and in a panicked need to escape, he said, "Okay — so long as we never,
ever
, talk about this again."
Jilly giggled, and in his peripheral vision, he saw her pull her phone out of her pocket. "Promise. So, what's the address?"
He quickly rattled it off and could tell she was typing on her phone.
"Thanks so much," she said when she finished.
"Don't mention it.
Seriously
."
She giggled again. "Not a word."
John blew out a long breath between pursed lips when she left the room. It was time for another beer — or three.
****
A couple of days later, at nearly quitting time, John caught himself admiring an attractive new girl walking toward the copy machine. Having always prided himself on self-control, he knew it was a symptom of the sudden, ongoing lack of sex in his marriage. He silently chided himself for a lapse that could have multiple consequences. Fortunately, she didn't seem to notice, and nobody else appeared to be in a position where they could have seen him.
When his phone sounded off, he checked it to find a message from Jilly saying that her package had been delivered.
He had done a fair job of putting the embarrassing exchange out of his mind, but it was something that couldn't be avoided at that point. Once the workday was done, he drove out of his way to the post office.
In addition to the dreaded locker key he expected, a welcome surprise awaited him. Someone who had played one of his games back in the day had sent him something. The letter described how he had hunted it down, and found a forum where there were instructions on how to run it on a newer system, letting him relive the experience once again. The same forum had revealed that the old post office box address was still in use.
He'd also included a twenty dollar bill, saying it was the old shareware donation with interest.
Buoyed by the unexpected letter, he was still smiling when he opened the locker to retrieve Jilly's package. It was discreetly packaged and could have been any one of a thousand things.
Unfortunately, he knew
exactly
what it was.
The last thing he wanted to do was hand it over personally. He seriously doubted his wife would be home until after midnight, but he couldn't just put it somewhere in the house on the off chance she did. Putting it in Jilly's room was out of the question. He had never once stepped foot in her room.
At a loss, he replied to her text saying he'd picked it up.
Jilly responded, "My car is in the driveway and my keys are on the hook by the door. Could you put it in my trunk?"
John blew a sigh of relief and replied, "Will do."
Once at home, he grabbed his stepdaughter's keys, deposited the package in her trunk, and promptly tried to forget about the whole thing. He wasn't in the mood to cook anything, so he grabbed a microwave meal from the freezer, nuked it, and ate in front of the television.
He was beginning to feel drowsy from a long day at work and a second beer when he looked at his phone. Tracy hadn't even bothered to text him to tell him she would be late the day before, and it was looking as if that would be the case again. Fortunately, their king-size, memory foam bed meant he barely even knew she was there when she finally did sneak in each night.
John shut down the television, yawned, and decided to turn in early. He had barely settled into bed when he heard a car pull up in the drive. The front door opened, and he could hear the jangle of keys. His face warmed when he realized his stepdaughter was going to retrieve her package.
Though he tried to close his ears and drift off to sleep, he still heard her come back in and hang her keys up. Only a minute later, he heard her opening a drawer, and his face burned even hotter. From the direction of the sound, she was getting into the junk drawer, where the packs of batteries were. She then proceeded directly to her bedroom.
John turned onto his side and clamped the pillow down over his hot ear.
****
The next day after work, John was shocked — and more than a little apprehensive — to see his wife's car in the garage. Even though he'd gone out with co-workers after quitting time, he had hardly expected her to be home. Confusion slipped into the mix when he saw her walking toward the door with a suitcase as he entered.
"Hey, guess what?" Tracy asked with an exuberance that had become quite rare of late.
"Going somewhere?"
"The CEO asked me to come with him to a conference this weekend in Vegas."
John kept his feelings in check and the acid out of his voice when he said, "Really?"
"Mmm hmm," Tracy said as she sat down the suitcase near the front door. She'd already placed another suitcase and a garment bag there earlier. "I think I might finally be getting that promotion. I've been working so hard for it."
"That's great," he said, faking a smile. He strongly suspected the work she was doing wasn't at her desk, but rather on her back. The CEO had coincidentally divorced his wife at about the same time Tracy had grown distant. He was John's first guess as to whom she was sleeping with.
"I leave first thing in the morning, so I'm going to get in the shower and go to bed."
John nodded, not trusting his voice. His wife turned and headed toward the stairs. He barely kept his seething anger in check as he went about his after-work routine.
Once he heard her get in the shower, he headed directly to the bedroom, and to a specific drawer. Upon slowly drawing it open, he clenched his teeth and suppressed a growl. Most of her sexy lingerie was missing. He had little doubt it was all in one of the suitcases she'd packed.
She was barely trying to hide her infidelity any longer. She must have realized that he was biding his time.
Or perhaps she thought he was too stupid to figure it out. Maybe she'd decided he was too much of a pussy to challenge her.
He sighed when he realized the latter was somewhat true. A divorce was barely going to affect her. He was the one who would have to move out and start over, because the house was hers from before they got together. Even though he made good money, it would take some time to get back on his feet. He'd rationalized that he was waiting until the right time, but he'd done absolutely nothing to further that end.
A weekend with her out of town was as good a time as any to tackle that.
It somehow felt more real as he considered his options. Maybe somewhere in the back of his head, he was hoping that he was imagining it all, and eventually, they'd work it out. There was too much evidence at that point for even his subconscious to be so naive.
