As always I must thank my LadyCibelle and Techsan for proof reading and editing this story.
"Damn this bloody rush hour traffic," I thought, as I sat in the queue of cars and buses. All I wanted to do was get home and go to bed. I'd been called away with my two assistants to deal with a major breakdown at one of my company's production plants up north three days ago. After working around the clock, we had finally gotten the line up and running again on Thursday afternoon. The three of us who had gone up to sort out the problem had gotten our heads down in an office for a few hours whilst the workers on the line got back to earning some real money. At about four in the morning, we figured that this time we'd finally cured the problem so we decided to drive home.
I'd dropped one of my assistants off at his house and was now trying to force my way through the morning traffic to drop Ronnie off. But something had brought the traffic almost to a standstill in the High Street. As I got closer to the hold-up I realised that some Pratt had parked on the double yellow lines.
The High Street in our town is quite old and very narrow; just one thoughtlessly parked car can cause all kinds of problems. Especially at that time of day! As I got closer, I noted that the car was one of those bloody great "Shogun's." Mary, my wife Fiona's best friend, drives one of those and I wondered if that was who it was. It was just the kind of ignorant thing Mary would do; I never had been too keen on her. She thought her shit didn't stink.
Then suddenly I became aware of Fiona walking back towards the Shogun from the Pharmacy; carrying one of those little paper bags that they put medicine's in. Fiona went over to the Shogun and after giving some guy, who honked his horn at them, the finger, she got into the front passenger seat and the Shogun drove off.
I was still some distance away and Fiona hadn't apparently seen me but I was bloody curious as to what Fiona and Mary were doing out this early in the morning. I didn't say anything to Ronnie as I was sure he'd have made some stupid comment. After I dropped him at his house, I made my way home.
As I walked in the front door, I got the shock of my life; Fiona walked up to meet me wearing her dressing gown and looking, to the world, like she had just got out of bed. Even her hair was a mess.
"Hi, darling," she said as she put her arms around my neck and kissed me, "I'm assuming you'll want something to eat before you get your head down!"
Now I'm not the smartest guy in the world. But I didn't get off the fucking boat yesterday; somehow I got the feeling that something was just not kosher about my welcome home. Twenty fucking minutes previously, Fiona had been standing in the High Street dressed in a short black skirt and that purple blouse that I always thought she looked so nice in.
Now she was standing in front of me looking for all the world like she'd just crawled out of bed, there were even traces of that bloody skin cream she puts on her face at night. And she had been brushing her tangled hair as I came through the door. Oh, and her mouth tasted of toothpaste. Not unusual I'll grant you; but Fiona is a creature of habit, she brushes her teeth after she has had her morning shower and her hair was still dry, so she couldn't have showered yet.
What to do? That was the question I was asking myself. Do I say something or do I wait and see what develops. Now I spend my life sorting out problems for my employer. I'm the cat's whiskers as far as my bosses were concerned when it comes to solving problems. My method is simple: when a problem comes up, you say and do as little as possible until you really understand what the problem is. Going off half-cocked rarely solves anything. As a matter of fact, it can often make things worse, if you do the wrong thing.
No, you sit back and gather all the information you can before you commit yourself.
"No, don't worry yourself, Fiona. I'll just have a shower and get my head down for a few hours. Then I'll grab something later, on my way into the office. There's a couple of things that I had to drop on Tuesday that I need to get finished before the weekend."
"OK, babe, if you use our on-suite, I'll grab a shower in the guest room."
"Oh, aren't you going to join me? I've missed you the last couple of days. We could have a little fun." I'm not exactly sure why I said that; it could have been that I just wanted to see what Fiona would say.
"You'll be lucky, cowboy. I over-slept a bit this morning and I'm running late as it is. Once you get started, we'll in bed until lunchtime and I've got to get to the office! Don't forget we're going to Mary and Jim's engagement party tonight. I don't want to get there late."
"Don't worry, babe. I haven't got much to finish at the office. I'll probably be home before you are."
I've got to admit I was pleased with myself for my self-control. Inside I was bloody fuming but Fiona hadn't the slightest idea about that. I was pretty damn sure she had been out somewhere with Mary all bloody night and that when I had seen them, they had been on their way home.
Fiona's high-speed change into her robe convinced me that she had most likely not been playing the contented and faithful wife while I had been out of town. Well, at the very least she must have been out all bloody night clubbing it. Not something a wife of eight years should do without her husband's knowledge.
We went to our respective showers, then I crawled into bed. Fiona came in and kissed me before she went off to her office. I lay there trying to get some sleep. But sleep wouldn't come. You know, when you get the idea that the person you trust most in the world is — well, l have to give her the benefit of the doubt, so I'll just say - not behaving as you would like, all sorts of scenarios go through your head. Most of them are very upsetting.
After an hour or so of not getting to sleep, I got up again, made some coffee and cooked myself some breakfast. Which promptly went down the waste disposal unit, as it appeared that for some reason I'd lost my appetite; as well as the ability to sleep.
The pictures of Fiona crossing that pavement and of her standing in the hall in her robe as I'd walked in the door kept going around in my mind. And then there was something else that was very odd; the chemist shop doesn't normally open until nine. How the hell had Fiona managed to buy something at 7:45 AM when I had seen her there. Then I remembered her friend Gemma. Gemma's parents owned that chemist's shop and Gemma had taken over as Pharmacist when she came back from UNI.
It was as I finished washing up my breakfast things that my mind turned in the direction it should really have gone a lot earlier. There on the crockery draining rack was a glass. What was so strange about that? Well, nothing really, but it was there. I'd managed to give myself a bit of a headache thinking about what the hell was going on with Fiona. So I took a couple of aspirins and that glass was just the right size for taking a drink to wash down some pills.
Suddenly I found I was thinking what the bloody hell did Fiona have in that paper bag I'd seen her carrying that morning. What was it that she'd been able to persuade Gemma to open up shop early to give her? What the hell could have been so urgent?
A search of the house was called for. The chemist's bag turned up quite quickly in the paper-for-recycling sack down in the cellar. Fiona really is one for saving the planet, a mistake, I think, on this occasion. But my search of the rest of the house proved fruitless at first.
Then I thought about opening those unpleasant little bags that Fiona, — like most ladies — have reason to deposit in the trash bin for a few days every month. Luckily I didn't have to open and search any of them. The one I was after was conspicuous because it was the only one there. Mind you it would have stood out like sore-thumb anyway, as it appeared to have very little in it. Fiona, you should at least have had the sense to wrap the contents in a towel.
When I opened the bag I found a little cardboard box and the push-out packaging that had contained two Levonelle pills, along with the usual side-effect warning sheet that came with them. For those of you who have not had reason to come across Levonelle pills before, they are more commonly known as "The Morning After Pill."
Well, there it was: Game, Set and Match. The end of my marriage all nicely wrapped up in a little paper pharmacy bag. After all, there is only one reason for taking the morning after pill and if you don't know what that is, boy, are you in trouble! All I had to do now was find out who the hell the other player in Fiona's little game was?
Ah, but the more sceptical of you might ask, "How do you know it wasn't Mary who had taken those bloody Levonelle pills?" Well, one-word covers that question. "Hysterectomy", and Mary's one of those women who loves to tell everyone and anyone about hers. She had some problem (no, I never did listen) when her second child was born. At the drop of a hat she will spend most of the evening going through the gory details.
I've heard the start of that tale so many times I sometimes wonder if she isn't using it as a come-on for the guys. You know the idea - I can fuck until doomsday and never get pregnant again. Thinking about it, I wonder if that's what really happened to her marriage. Maybe her husband caught her playing the field and not the other way around as she tells the tale. It would explain why her ex has the kids.
.... There is more of this story ...