When the call came a couple weeks ago, it wasn’t really unexpected but in many ways it was a surprise.
My wife called from her house in New Jersey, made idle chit chat for a couple minutes, and then said she’s be in my neck of the woods in a little over a week on business and wanted to know if we could get together.
Okay, I know you are asking…If they are married why the formality.
Good question. We’d been separated more than two years, and she had moved to our quaint little beach house on the Jersey shore while I remained in the DC suburbs and continued my life as a mid-level manager at a defense contracting company.
It was all because of our two kids, who would die if their parents split up. So, the agreement was that we’d make nice, be separated because of our jobs, and the “kids” – one working in Cincinnati and the other going to college at Virginia Tech, and we’d get together as a family for holidays and special occasions.
Can’t say it wasn’t workable, because it was. Devon and I had grown to hate being together, but could live with a few days a year. Financially, we had lawyers draw up agreements that I’d fiscally take care of the house mortgages, but each was responsible for day-to-day expenses. It became a marriage of convenience.
The love was gone, and, quite frankly it had left long before the separation. I knew
Devon was blowing her boss at the time, William, on a regular basis. She told me so, right after catching a young lady named Melissa and I fucking at a local park. That might have been the back breaker.
To many, we seemed civil to each other, but at the time hate was not too strong a word. Thus, the separation worked well. Devon had no problem getting a job selling real estate at the Jersey shore, I kept plugging away in DC and the kids never let on they knew anything was amiss.
After the call I was sipping a Pino noir and thinking about Devon. She was still a bit of a looker at 49, but was constantly worried about turning 50. Thus, a personal trainer and multiple workouts a week helped keep her figure mature but attractive. Her 36D top was eye-catching to guys, and while she had the extra poundage that comes with age she was still a damn good looker.
I imagined she was playing the Jersey field. I don’t think there was anything serious, but knowing her I knew she was available if guys asked. I wondered how she was in the sack, because that was something missing over the last five or six years we’d been together. She made up for it with William, and the diary I found described. William, married father of three, enjoyed Devon’s oral talents several times a week and had a penchant for bending his over his desk and banging her on a regular basis.
I’d be willing to bet the two got together after the move, as he was a gambler who favored Vegas and Atlantic City casinos more that the more local ones. So I imagined Devon hooked up with her former boss in AC as well as was available to local beaus.
Still, I wondered what she wanted to meet about because our Christmas holiday week with the kids shed nary a hint of anything she’d want to spend time with me about.
But then, Devon was always one for surprises.
We met Tuesday afternoon in DC just after her arrival. Her conference was two days, and our lunch talk was benign. After we walked along the monuments and sat near the Smithsonian. That’s when she confided that sales were way down because of the economic downturn and less people having the wherewithal to have a second home at the beach.
Prices had dropped, but even that barely helped sales. And most people negotiated with agents to lower their commissions or not get the business. Things needed to be fixed at the house, her car was a disaster and it was a necessity and, well, she had maxed out her credit cards. Along the way she had lost money on a get rich quick scheme recommended by her friend. All added up to big problems.