A Comfortable Pair Of Shoes

I sat, waiting.

I knew her well. I should after fourteen years of marriage. Her need to control every situation would prompt her to hurry home, do damage control, would overpower everything else. I idly wondered what kind of spin she would come up with.

It had to throw her for a loop, getting caught. She was always the clever one, scheming, planning, working every angle. I was the straightforward one.

If something was on my mind it usually came out of my mouth. Good or bad, I leaned towards immediate resolution.

She hated it. It irked her no end when her groundwork and all her carefully laid plans would go for nothing.

Don't get me wrong, I usually let her have what she wants. Why? Because I'm a guy, and guys tend not to sweat a lot of stuff. If she wanted it, and if it didn't break us financially or damage our relationship, she got it. It made her happy, and then she made me happy, then we were both happy. Happy happy happy.

It didn't take her long to realize there was a line in my head that said when you crossed it things could get very bad. I heard her describe it to a friend once when she didn't know I was around.

"I call it the 'Magic Moment', a point where he becomes angry enough that nothing matters. Not his friends, not his job, not me, nothing. When he hits that point, he could care less about what people think or whose feelings get hurt."

"I'll give you an example. He worked at his old company ten years. Got raises, good reviews, they loved him. Then management changed. They brought in an expert. After two weeks, the expert gave a suggestion they embraced. Everyone's job got realigned. Bob really didn't care, he had been there so long he knew just about everything. Then came the kicker. The expert pointed out that the employees were being paid about twenty five percent more than companies with corresponding positions in the area, so they were being cut to achieve 'parity'. They told him his cut came to just under five thousand a year."

"He laughed at them."

"Let me get this clear" he said, "you want to cut all our pay because that's would bring us down to the local average, right? What kind of effort do you expect from us afterwards? The same, or twenty five percent less? One of the reasons this company is so successful is because it pays top dollar for the best. You don't just walk in here and fill out an application and start work. I had to go through four interviews, a physical, and psychological testing before I was hired. You have a very stringent attendance policy, and hardcore safety procedures. Now, why should anyone go through that to get hired, if you're not paying any more than the place down the street, where you don't have to work nearly as hard and get the same pay. In time, you won't have parity, you'll have mediocrity. Your old workers will quit, for better jobs or easier working conditions. Production will suffer, accidents will happen, morale will be shot."

He paused for a breath. There were four people from corporate and the efficiency expert in the meeting. They were all bright red.

"The decision stands" said one of the corporate goons. "It will take effect in three months."

He smiled. "All right. That should be more than enough time to find another job. Consider this my notice. The day before the cuts become effective will be my last day."

"There was a general uproar. The plant manager assured corporate he wouldn't quit, he was just venting. Imagine their surprise when he walked out the door three months later. They tried to get him to come back, blustering they would report to any prospective employers he had walked out and abandoned his job."

"Already got a job." was his reply. Nine months later most of the old employees had left, many coming to work for his new firm. They flew two corporate officers down to try and persuade him to return, offering him a nice raise. He laughed, wished them success, and left the restaurant."

"Once he makes a decision, no one in the world can change his mind. And while it may seem like a snap decision at the time, he's usually thought about it long and hard. And it doesn't matter about the financial cost at all. Not to him."

"I can live without money, but not without my self respect. I've heard that a dozen times."

I thought back through the years, trying to pinpoint exactly when she thought it would be acceptable to have sex with another man. She'd tried to get me to accept a lot over the years. Going to Cancun for two weeks with her friends, a couple who were borderline sluts, one that was married.

She had worked up a pretty good presentation. It would be good to have a break from each other. It would make us stronger, blah, blah, blah.

I told her the idea sucked, the thought of her in a foreign country, on a beach with a lot of alcohol in the company of a group of women I considered little more than dick seeking missiles, was not really a good idea.

"But, it's your life, so do whatever you're of a mind to do. Just be aware of the cost."

She had learned over the years that was one of my key phrases. It meant I knew she was wrong or it was a really bad idea, but I was tired of discussing it and if she went ahead she was going to have to deal with the consequences.

"Just one more thing. I'll need my rings back. If you're going to spread for strangers, you'll do it without them on."

She blew up and started to argue. I just sat until she ran out of steam.

"I thought of a few more things while you were talking. You won't have time to rent an apartment while on vacation, so do you want me to put your things in storage or take them to your mothers' house?"

She sulked, she screamed, she refused to cancel the plans.

Three days before she was to get on the plane she came home to an empty house and a note.

"Thought it over, decided I didn't want to live here. Now you can go with a clear conscience, not worrying about betraying anyone. Have a nice trip. Oh, and keep the rings. They hold no value for me anymore."

Her slut friends urged her to forget me and leave, but she tried two days to find me. I had taken a bit of my own vacation time and went camping.

I idly wondered if she got on the plane as I made another cast, determined to get that big bass I missed last summer, when I heard a sound.

"I figured you'd be here. Thank you for ruining a really good vacation. As you can see, I didn't go. Happy now?"

I felt the rod twitch. Maybe Mr. Big was coming out to play.

"Fuck no, I'm not happy. It's hard knowing if I'd been a little weaker you'd have trotted off, spread your legs, and had a hell of a time, knowing you had me under your thumb. Why are you here? Trying to ruin my weekend? Won't work. Know why? Because you won't be here. Go home, go somewhere else, just get the hell away from me. Since you didn't go, I'll fire the private eye and go for irreconcilable differences instead of adultery. Shit, it's so easy nowadays, we can be done in four months."

Mr. Big had hit, my rod was almost double and the drag was screaming like a virgin at a gangbang. He broke water, dancing across the water on his tail. He had to be eight pounds, maybe ten. Damn.

She chose at that exact moment to attack me, cussing like a sailor. I was knocked into the water, and Mr. Big got a little slack, spit out the hook, and with a slap of his tail went back into the deep.

She was screaming and laughing at the same time. The water was a little less than waist deep, but pretty damn cold in early April. I walked out slowly.

"Now maybe you'll talk to me. I don't want a damn divorce. You better lis..."

That was all she got out before I shoved her into the lake. She slid in the mud a little, waving her arms around in an attempt to balance, before losing it and falling backwards.

I noted she was dressed really well, and that she wasn't wearing anything under that short skirt as she went under. Apparently she was going for the 'fuck him stupid and make him forget' plan of action.

She wasn't looking real sexy now, mud and grasses all over her. I saw she was completely without underwear, and her nipples stood straight out, a testament to the cold.

She started to climb out, taking a breath to start screaming, when I shoved her back in.

When she got to her feet again I held up my hand.

"Listen. Don't speak. If you open your mouth before I'm done, I swear I'll jump in and hold you under until you stop bubbling. Nod your head if you understand."

She must have believed me, because she slowly nodded her head.

"Now, what have we got to talk about? We both know if I had given in you would be fucking someone else right about now. Deny it all you want, we both know it's the truth. I hope your slut friends stand by you, you're going to need friends. Maybe you can spend your time trying to steal men from each other. God knows they've all made runs at me, even the married one. I'm going now. Do not follow me, do not call me, Don't fight it when the papers are served."

I could hear her crying and calling my name as I left.

It was no surprise when she fought the divorce, but I had to wonder why.

She got a really good lawyer who finagled her way onto the docket of one Edith Vine, a Judge Judy wannabe who was notorious for trying to keep people together,and we had to go to counseling. I almost got a contempt order for mouthing off.

"This is just bullsh...foolishness your honor. I don't want to work it out. I don't want to save the marriage. I just want out."

She got really icy with me.

"Mr. James, you don't have to like it, but you do have to go, and I better hear you're participating. Do you understand?"

I was pissed, so I really pushed it. The bitch was so full of shit her eyeballs were turning brown.

"I understand, Your Honor. But tell me, didn't you go to counseling with your recently departed husband? Did it help? Seems I remember the divorce going through anyway."

"Let me ask you a hypothetical question, ma'am. If I were to say you were a terrible judge with no concept at all of the human condition and it would be a great service to the people of this community if you lost your reelection bid, would it piss you more because I dared say it, or because I was right?"

I've never seen anyone go from pale to red and back again that fast. She pounded her gavel angrily.

"Baliff! Take this man and have him processed for contempt."

My lawyer and close friend was up in a flash.

"Hold on just a second, Your Honor. Are you going to jail a man for asking a hypothetical question? Your opponent in the race would eat that up. Please, he meant nothing by it."

He's right, Your Honor. It was just a question. I take it back."

I just couldn't resist.

"However, when you lose this November, and you're just a citizen on the street like the rest of us, I'm going to make it a point to look you up, and give you a detailed opinion of your skills."

All right, so I dodged the contempt bullet, but she got back at me by raising the mandatory sessions from six to twelve.

The first three sessions were very frustrating to both her and the therapist. I loved to read, and instead of answering in real words, used quotes from books and poems. Shakespeare was a gold mine, lots of cheating sluts in his work.

They got through my defenses on the fourth session. Maybe I was tired, maybe I wasn't as focused as I should have been. When she cried this time I knew she actually meant it. The other times she turned it on and off too easily, this time she couldn't stop.

The therapist had asked why I married her. I was surprised.

"Because I loved her. I knew how she was. I'd watched her all the way through high school and most of college manipulate everyone around her to get what she wanted. It's why I never tried to date her. In the end she had to ask me out."

"I went because I was curious. What could she possibly want with me? I wasn't rich, I don't think I'm that good looking, and I wasn't into games."

"We went to a party thrown by one of her friends. Her boyfriend, who she told me she had broken up with, was there. She tried to use me to prove she could get anyone she wanted, so he had better fall in line. Took me about three minutes to figure it out. After that I decided to have a little fun."

"I pretty much ignored her the rest of the evening, danced with her friends, flirted, did a little groping, all where she could see me. She was furious."

"She finally got me outside and lit into me."

"What the hell are you doing? You're supposed to be with me. The one you brought, remember? Behave!"

It shocked her when I laughed.

"What the hell do you think I'm doing? I'm obviously the goat here, to beard your boyfriend, who you forgot to tell me you were still involved with. I figured since you were a lost cause, I'd do a little trolling. You need to find a new set of friends. Loyalty must be missing from their dictionary. I've already got three numbers, and Sue pretty much told me that after I took you home tonight I should come back for a little after party party."

"Apparently no one had ever talked to her like that before. She started crying. Until recently[I gave her a pointed look]I could never resist a crying woman."

I told her I'd make a deal. She acted like she was actually my date tonight, and I'd act like I was hers."

"We went back in, and she clung to my arm the rest of the night. We ignored everyone else, danced only with each other. After a while we actually relaxed and had a good time."

"I think she was really surprised when I left her at her door with just a small kiss. I had no intention of ever dating her again, but she viewed me as a challenge. Slowly she wormed her way into my heart. I told her early on I wasn't into her games. We broke up a couple times before she got the message."

"To wrap it all up, we married. I had the mumps as a child. It was possible I could father a child but not probable. When we found out I offered to let her out of the marriage. She chewed me out. I wanted to adopt, but she found one excuse after another until I figured it was too late. A good thing now, in retrospect."

"But, Counselor, she slowly slid back into her old ways. Complacency, I suspect. It was little things, but as time went by they got bigger. What she didn't understand was I didn't give a shit what kind of car she wanted, or the style of furniture in the house. Stuff like that doesn't matter the least to me. If it made her happy, okay."

"But then she changed jobs, got a new set of friends. She started wanting girls nights out. Again, I trusted her, so it didn't matter. She started coming home later and later, then one night she came in at two, hair mussed, clothes wrinkled, lipstick smeared. That was the beginning of the end."

"She knew she had screwed up badly. She apologized, saying she was drunk and it never went beyond kissing."

I left her, for two weeks. She begged, cried, swore she would get counseling. I got weak, I did still love the stupid bitch, still can't tell you why."

"Things got better. She realized she had control issues, really worked on them. Changed jobs again, to 'get away from the sluts' she said. Jumped from the frying pan into the fire, in my opinion. If the last bunch were sluts, this group were screaming whores."

"Slowly, slowly, she fell in with them. Girls night out started up again."

"Then the Cancun thing came up. I looked up the resort, it catered to singles and people with 'alternative lifestyles'. I knew without a doubt if she was she'd come back a slut who broke her vows. And it burned up all her vacation time, ruining the plans we'd already made. I tried to talk to her, she used platitudes and bullshit that came straight out of the Cheaters Handbook.

I reached my limit, gave her my ultimatum. Stay with me and try to work on our marriage, go and come back to the divorce dance. She refused to cancel, so I packed up and left before she did."

"She must have gotten a case of the smarts, because she never got on the plane. It was too late by then. I started the proceedings. And here we are. Yes she's sorry. Yes she'll go into counseling. But will it be enough, did she learn anything, can she change? My question is do I want to hang around long enough to see?"

.................................................

In the end, I took her back, hoping for the best. Why? Because deep down, I really did love her. But I made her pay. I kept her on a tight lease, and I made her sign a postnupt. Irreconcilable differences and it was fifty fifty. Adultery, and the offending party left with the clothes on their back.

It killed her to sign that, she loved the house and all her toys, but she knew it was her only chance.

We were good for a couple more years. Then she started changing. It was so gradual I didn't notice at first, it was little things, but as it accelerated I picked up on it. Got to noticing a superior little smirk she wore, especially if she thought I couldn't see it.

I called the investigators. In two weeks they gave me their results. Sadly, I wasn't surprised.

Peter Cummings, a little weasel she worked with. According to the report he was little more than a gigolo, seeking wealthy older women to subsidize his lifestyle. Handsome, I guess. I didn't like his eyes. He took one look at her Mercedes convertible, the rings on her fingers, the perfect hair, and smelled money. He flattered her, she gave him little gifts. He must be good in the sack, as many times as they met.

I never saw them together, had them give the report to the lawyer I had chosen. she had broken the straw on the camels' back.

I waited until I knew they were together, and sent he a text. "Emergency. Get back to me pdq. Call, no text."

She called me back in three minutes, breathing hard.

"What's the emergency?"

"It's not really an emergency, more a courtesy call. I'm divorcing you. Have Peter follow you back, you can drop off your car and he can help you pack your clothes. Leave you jewelry on the vanity. along with your house and car keys."

There was dead silence for a few seconds, until she recovered.

"What in the world are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the postnupt you signed. Remember? The paper you signed to prove how baseless my lack of faith in you was? I'm talking about the fact that you've been fucking that slimeball for at least three month. I'm talking about the fact that you're in Room 334 of the Seasons, buck naked, except for that garter belt. What color is that, lavender, or purple? The resolution on the live feed is kind of murky sometimes. This is where I'm supposed to call you a slut, but I can't, because you're paying for it with those little gifts and loans. What's a female version of a John, a Jill?"

I could see her looking around, wildly, trying to see the cameras.

"Stop looking, you'll never be able find them. And tell Peter that the leather thong he had on looks absolutely ridiculous on a man his age and body shape. There's a site on the web called Funny Farm that features stupid pictures, tell him I posted him about twenty minutes ago. I just made famous. He doesn't have to thank me. I have to go now, the locksmith should be here any minute."

"Wait! I'll be right there. Please, I can explain the whole thing."

Curiosity get the best of me, so I grabbed a glass of my favorite wine and waited.

.................................................

I heard her pull up, the rapid clatter of her heels on the walk, as she rushed in. She looked around wildly until she saw me in the den. I had lit the fireplace, I found a fire soothing.

She approached me slowly, I stood.

"Sit!" I commanded, pointing at the wingback I had placed across from the couch.

She drew a breath to complain about my tone, thought better of it, and sat.