Some Letters Should Not Be Found

Part I of this story was published last week:

******

Peter made his usual morning coffee and sat down at his desk. It was still early and quiet in the office. He took the letter out of his coat pocket, opened it, and read it:

“My dear Peter,

By the time you read this, you will probably hate me. I am sorry for what I am about to say. It hurts me more than it hurts you.

My husband knows about us. He said that if I don't stop seeing you, he will tell everyone at work about our affair.

You know that this is against company policy, and we would both end up losing our jobs. You have put so much into your career that I could not do this to you. I love you and will always love you, but you must not try to contact me or talk to me, especially at work.

It was good while it lasted. I'm sorry!

I am only typing this because I am doing it at work and need to appear to be working. I don’t care if I lose my job; I would much rather be with you, but for the time being, we need to be careful.

I love you and always will,

Michelle”

He felt ill. How did her husband find out?

He remembered that feeling he had on the plane, where he felt like someone had walked over his grave.

Was that the moment when he found out? He wanted to call Michelle right away. Her letter had changed his life, and he thought about it often.

It was then that he made the horrible realization about her letter. He grabbed his coat, frantically searching the pockets. There it was. Inside left pocket.

But it has just been to the dry cleaners. His thought hung like a sickening smell. As he turned it over, the face had been defaced in Jackie’s handwriting.

“Bastard, you will pay!!!”

He had thought it strange that she had not spoken to him while he was away; it was out of character; now he knew why.

The letter from Michelle was that real. Did she really want nothing more to do with him?

She would be coming into the office in a matter of minutes. Did he speak to her or ignore her as she wished?

He quickly wiped that thought from his mind. That wasn't going to happen; even he knew that. Did he leave a note of some sort?

His mind raced at a hundred miles an hour from a lack of sleep, and now this.

He sat with his hand on his head, trying to make sense of what had happened. He kicked himself for being so stupid and not being more careful with the letter. What was he going to do?

Lost in his thoughts, he did not see Michelle come into the office.

She crept into his office and looked at him sitting in his chair, as if he had seen a ghost.

"Hi, darling," she whispered in case someone heard.

"I have missed you, baby, and I am so glad you are back. Can I see you tonight, please, please?”

Peter looked up. Michelle immediately sensed that something was wrong.

“What is it, darling? What is the matter?”

He handed her the note, supposedly from her. She read it.

“Peter, I did not write this, and he has no idea. Ever since I got my place, I have not seen him; I promise. Who wrote this?”

“I think I know, baby,” he said as he gently touched the back of her hand. "I have to go, but I will be back. And, yes, I would love to see you tonight. I need a hug. I will call you,” as he grabbed his jacket and ran out the door.

As he was leaving, one of his direct reports, Michael, the HR Director, was coming in. “Hi Peter, welcome back. Can we catch up?”

"Yeah, later, something I have to do,” as he brushed past him.

*****

It had only been a couple of hours since he had left home. He was sure that Jackie would not even be out of bed when he got home. He was going to confront her; what did he have to lose?

He stormed through the front door.

“Jackie, we need to talk now!”

There was no reply. When he got to the bedroom, to his surprise, the bed had been made. Sitting on the pillow was a plain envelope; “For You, You Bastard” was all it said.

“Great, another letter; that is all I need,” he said to himself.

He sat on the bed as he opened it, loosening his tie that sat around his neck, which just then felt like a hangman’s noose.

"Peter, when you read this, you will realize I am not here. I did not want to be home when you came back because I would probably end up killing you. How could you do this to me?"

And this morning, you were so full of crap, really?

Doesn’t matter; it is done.

You will hear from my lawyer. I want the house and half of your superannuation. I suggest you don’t fight it, or everyone at your work will know about your dirty little secret, and you will be screwed.

Oh, one more thing, I am staying at my boyfriend's place. You find somewhere else to live, and then you can return and retrieve your belongings. In three days, I'll throw it all out in the street."

It was not signed. Peter rubbed his hand through his hair. I need to find somewhere to live quickly, I guess, he rationalized to himself. A hotel would be a good start.

He kicked the bed in his anger.

“She did this to me when she was already having an affair that I knew about? What a bitch. Good riddance."

His phone rang. He took it out of his pocket. It was Jackie.

He answered it with slight hesitation.

“Hello?”

“Are we clear?” was all that was said.

Peter thought about taking him to task on the affair, but then thought, "What do I care anymore. It's over, and it’s a good thing, because now I'm free."

“What are you watching me now? Doesn't matter. Perfectly,” was his only reply.

“One more thing,” added Jackie, "next time maybe you should do your own dry cleaning, you piece of …”

Peter hung up the phone before he could finish.

He picked up his unpacked suitcase from his trip. He stuffed another one with as much as he could. Then, he walked out the door.

At least she hadn’t changed the locks yet; that had to be a positive.

Till next time,

Calvin