Description: I looked at the letter and my world ended in flames, I thought.

Edited by Barney R. Messed with afterward by me. All mistakes are mine.

I looked at the letter and my world ended in flames, I thought.

‘The Day’ was normal in every way until I got home from my trip to Chicago. I was home without my wife, an event that had become all too frequent lately. I walked up to the front porch, retrieved the paper, and grabbed the mail. As per usual, it was mostly junk. I had one letter from my publisher and another from my accountant. There were four bills and a letter for my wife from a government office. When I saw the words on the government mail front ‘Official Business, to be opened by addressee only’, my blood ran cold and my rage ran hot.

I am Richard (Rick) Claymore, 33, and married to Catherine (Cathy) Claymore nee Signerson 29. We had been married for just over 5 years when the letter came. I have several traits that many would find bad, and some that most would see as good. I am slow to anger, but once the limit is exceeded, I burn hot and long. I am also a ‘one-woman’ man who takes his marriage vows seriously. I don’t cheat. My biggest hot button is lying. I don’t mean a fake compliment; I mean a lie that only protects the person telling the lie, or the lie is designed to hurt the person being told and people that that person cares about.

I met Cathy at a wedding rehearsal. I was standing up with my younger brother Tom, as he was to marry Cindy, his girlfriend/fiancé for almost 5 years. Cathy was a cousin of the bride and my opposite number in the wedding party. As we were being introduced, I was impressed by her smile that covered her whole person, and her eyes that glittered with the smile.

As neither of us had a plus one at the rehearsal dinner, we were seated together. The dinner was something; I never tasted any of it. I was mostly watching Miss Catherine Signerson. I was basically a blithering idiot. I would not have been surprised if someone wiped the drool off my chin.

We talked, no that’s not right, she talked, and I mumbled. She recited the Constitution of the United States, and I nodded. I was infatuated and struck dumb.

I must have said something right because Catherine agreed to exchange phone numbers and asked me to call her for a date when the excitement settled down. I wondered what could be more exciting than she was.

The wedding was a blank; I do remember that my brother did say I do. At the reception, I danced with the bride once and the rest of the time I danced it was with Cathy. I am not now nor have I ever been a great dancer, I can waltz and polka without stepping on my partner. Cathy was light as a feather and seemed to anticipate my every move on the floor. Fortunately, the band was a good old-fashioned polka band. We danced a lot.

I have not been into dancing to rock, or country since I was in high school. I sat out many of the dances, and for the most part, Cathy was either in the next chair, or talking to her cousin, or with a bunch of girls having a committee meeting in the girl’s restroom. If someone came over and asked her to dance Cathy would say that they needed to ask her date; me if I minded. A couple of the guys took exception, and when they did Cathy told them no to the request to dance.

Most of the guys would ask me. I always waited for a nod or shake from Cathy. A nod and I agreed, a shake and I got up and made a fool of myself. When she agreed, the guy got one dance and a thank you. A few of the men tried to cut in, and Cathy told them no right on the dance floor.

When the reception was winding down, Cathy asked me to escort her to her car. I fetched our coats and walked with her. When we got there, I took her keys, unlocked her car, and opened the door for her.

She touched my arm, looked me in the eyes and said; “Rick, I know we just met yesterday, and we didn’t plan it, but I had a fantastic time with a perfect gentleman tonight. I hope we will have a ‘second date’ or an official first date.”

Then she stood on her toes and kissed me.

“A real first date is already being planned, how about we meet for coffee or a drink sometime this week. I know you noticed, I don’t drink alcohol, but I really do not mind or care if people around me do, so if you wish to meet somewhere for a drink that’s fine.”

“Call me, Rick, and we will make time to get together.” She replied.

She got in her car and drove off.

I floated back into the hall as I had volunteered to help with clean up.

Well, we met for coffee three times during the week and went to dinner Friday night and to a play Saturday.

I found out that Cathy was a college graduate in accounting, and had twice taken the CPA exam. She passed the second time. She was working for a national accounting firm on its local audit team.

I told her of my college and my degree in finance, with minors in English composition and stock market analysis. I explained that while I was writing the next ‘Great American Novel’ I was working for a national stock brokerage firm in their local office as a stock analyst/trader.

We dated for about six months when Cathy asked me where I saw our relationship going. As we were together a couple of evenings a week and every weekend, I thought I knew where she was going with the question.

“Catherine Signerson, I am in love with and I love you. That is not a statement that I make lightly. I have told exactly one woman, besides my mother, that in my entire life. You are that woman. I want to be with you only and want all of your non-work time. In other, less clumsy words; will you marry me?”

The look I got was not one I anticipated. It was almost a questioning, studying look as if she was checking to see if I was lying. After a couple of seconds, she jumped toward me and put me in a bear hug.

“Yes I will marry you, I was afraid that you did not want me because you haven’t tried to have sex with me yet.”

“I have not tried to have sex with you because sex, like love, is something to not take lightly. I am no virgin, and I have hurt girls and women in the past with a ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’ attitude. When a girl I cared for turned me down for sex because I had a reputation, it hurt, and I knew I had to mend my ways. I want to make mad passionate love, sweet gentle love, and have raw ‘monkey sex’ with you, but if I do, I want you to feel that it is love and not hormones.”

“Shut up and kiss me, I said yes. Your place or mine?”

We went to a local upscale restaurant for dinner. There was a sexual tension all through it. We didn’t rush, but there was no dessert or after-dinner coffee.

Cathy wanted to see the rest my place. I had inherited a very big, nice 19th century home from my paternal grandfather, and was living there. She had of course been in the house, but other than the kitchen, dining area, and the family room, she had not seen the rest of the house.

I gave her the nickel tour and she was amazed at how big it was. It has four bedrooms and two full baths upstairs, and a guest and master suite with attached baths down. There is a formal library, an office, and what used to be called a smoking parlor. I had converted that into a pool room. Then there is the exercise room and the semi-attached five stall garage with three cars currently in it. Above the garage is a three-bedroom mother-in-law apartment that was originally three servant’s efficiency apartments.

After the tour, Cathy wanted to know how a single guy kept the place so neat and clean. I explained that my grandfather had set up a fund for the housekeeping and maintenance, and so a housekeeper came over twice a week to clean the rooms. However, I was responsible for keeping it neat.

I explained the when I was seven, my father’s housekeeper started telling me to clean my room, and that she was not my slave. She said she would wash and cook, but cleaning my room was my responsibility.

Then she warned me when it comes time for laundry, anything not in the laundry room hamper does not get washed, and anything wrinkled by being stuffed in a drawer will remain wrinkled. So I quickly learned that it is easier to straighten up if when you’re done with something you put it away and if folding was needed, fold it.

“So you see my dear, I will be a good househusband. I also do windows.”

After the laughter died down Cathy, took my hand and led me to my bedroom. We made slow passionate love and fell asleep.

In the morning I made a breakfast omelet of eggs, prosciutto, bell peppers, onions, Roma cheese, and raw spinach. Cathy asked if the breakfast was more of my ‘househusband’ talents. Then she started laughing and her laugh was like music. I reached over and wiped a piece of egg off her cheek. Then I pulled her close and kissed her.

After breakfast, Cathy realized that she needed to call and visit her parents. “My gosh, I have a lot of planning to do. Dresses, a hall, a church, bridesmaids, matron of honor...”

I interrupted her. “Aren’t you forgetting something? What about a wedding date? Give me at least the name of a month, then we can do all of the planning.”

She gushed; “Oh, you’re right. Not only a wedding date, but you need to meet my family, and I need to meet yours.”

“Yeah, about meeting my family. I am the family head, my mother left for parts unknown when Tom was three, and my dad died eight years ago, so you have met the whole family, except for an aunt that I love with all my heart, but she lives in California, and I don’t see her near enough. My Grandfather set up the trusts that actually owned the house for Tom and I. We each draw a stipend, but Tom did not want the house, so my trust bought out his share, and he used that money for his house. Otherwise, we would not have been able to go to college.”

Cathy got a sad look and clasped my hand. “You are more amazing every time I find out something else about you. You not only became a good man but a good brother and guardian”

The meet and greet went well, Cathy’s parents were warm and welcoming. I did get all of the expected questions. What do you do for a living? Where are you going to live? Where do you stand on children? Normal questions put to an interloper by a caring parent.

Cathy and her mother and Cindy (her cousin and my sister-in-law) went into planning mode. Her father and I mostly stayed out of the way.

The wedding was planned for the following June, giving us almost ten months to get every done. Mostly it went smoothly, however, there were a couple of minor things that put us off-kilter briefly. The trustee for my trust advised me to get a prenup to specifically protect the trust from being considered an asset if we divorced. Then Cathy’s dad had a lawyer look it over and add an abuse and adultery clause. After several days of intense but not angry discussion, the documents were signed. The next glitch was the country club clubhouse that Cathy wanted for the reception burned to the ground. Another country club had that date open, so we jumped on it.

The wedding was great, the bride was beautiful and I showed up. The reception was not what I would have chosen, but it was Cathy’s day and so we had a sit-down dinner and no dancing or music.

We honeymooned in Baja Mexico at Cabo San Lucas. It was marvelous, and we got very tanned, and Cathy got to practice her Spanish. On the way back home we stopped in San Diego to visit my aunt. She had been unable to come to the wedding.

We settled into a normal home life, and I started to put more emphasis on my novel. My job at the brokerage was mostly being done online while I was at home, with a client or potential client my meetings were by appointment at the office.

Cathy was advancing fast in her job and promoted to the assistant audit team leader. It was very unusual for someone so young to be promoted like that. She also decided, after talking with me to put off having kids for a few years. We were very happy about the first four years. At least I was. Cathy never gave me any indication that she was not.

Cathy got a second promotion about two months after our fourth anniversary. She had earned an audit team of her own. The fly in the ointment was that it involved extensive travel during tax season. She was gone for a week at a time at least once a month from December until April.

She was a loving wife right up until the promotion. Then I became an afterthought. It was all about business, and to hell with the home.

When I complained about her attitude, she went and stayed in a hotel. That lasted until she tried to return home and found that I had changed all of the locks and the codes to the garage doors. She rang the bell, and when the cleaning lady asked who she should say is calling, Cathy got the message. She went to her folks for support and they must have read her the riot act.

She called me and asked if she could come home.

“If you are asking if Cathy Claymore can come home, I guess. If you are asking if Catherine Signerson-Claymore, CPA, can come home, the answer is not until she decides to act like a wife again. Is that clear enough?”

I heard some sobbing and “I’m sorry, I realize that I have become a royal bitch. Please let me come home to fix this.”

“I will be waiting here for you, but you will sleep in the guest rooms, at least until my wife returns and not that asshole bitch of a professional woman that you have become. That woman is not welcome in my house. Do you understand my anger and sadness?”

She meekly responded, “Yes, I understand, I guess I will stay here yet today and think over what you said.”