“You working when tomorrow?” Kurt asked as he put the heavy leaded crystal vase with the nine red roses and one white rose onto her small table.
“Saturday? Mm, Six thirty ’til, I get out there at three thirty. Same like today,” Nadia said.
“I like your hair like that,” Kurt said, indicating her ponytail.
“Thanks; it needs washing bad,” Nadia confessed. “Probably do it tomorrow night.”
“Well, it’s cute like that,” Kurt said, placing the large box of chocolates and the large card onto the table next to the flowers.
“Why you got, mm, nine red and one white rose?” Nadia asked.
“That’s the nine years we been married,” Kurt explained. “The white one’s for the years to come.”
“Aw, I wish…” Nadia said, then clammed up.
“Kurt placed the jewelry box on top of the chocolates and looked at the cute girl. He saw moisture forming in the corners of her big brown eyes. Before he could ask about the impending tears, she abruptly turned and entered the bathroom. The door slammed shut and Kurt sighed then left the apartment.
The next morning, Donna woke Kurt by gripping his morning erection. When he was awake, she rolled a condom onto his cock then rolled onto her back and spread her legs. After Kurt had spurted into his condom, Donna wiggled out of bed and pulled on her robe.
A moment later, Kurt could smell the bacon sizzling and smiled. Donna was making her breakfast specialty; French toast sandwiches.
Kurt had brought home a loaf of Spuntzin’s Bakery Original Recipe. The white bread was sliced thick, just as the original loaves had been sliced.
(Ronnie Spuntzin had set the slicer to make thicker slices so people would use up their loaf of bread quicker and need to buy more bread. The ploy worked very well; many customers preferred the thicker slices to the other breads available on the grocer’s shelves.)
Donna used three jumbo eggs and whisked in a half teaspoon of vanilla extract, a half teaspoon of cinnamon and a heaping tablespoon of brown sugar along with one quarter cup of half and half.
Donna would dredge four slices of the thick bread through this egg custard then fried them on both sides until golden. Then a dollop of maple syrup went on one piece of bread and was topped with four pieces of bacon, a sunny side up fried egg went on top of the bacon, then the second piece of French toast completed the sandwich.
When he could smell Donna’s far too weak coffee, Kurt pulled on his boxers and his robe. A moment later Donna called up the stairs that breakfast was ready.
After eating the unhealthy, cholesterol and sugar laden meal, Kurt cleaned up the kitchen. Donna was less than meticulous in her cleaning and Kurt did not want cockroaches invading his mother’s home. Finishing the task, Kurt turned and saw Donna waiting expectantly for her Valentine’s Day gifts or gifts. With a smile, he told her he’d be right back and trotted up the stairs to their bedroom.
Kurt slipped on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt and reached for his keys. The keys were not in the small ceramic dish he normally kept them in. He had made that dish for his mother at a summer camp when he was eight years old.
Entering their bathroom, Kurt opened the hamper and ground his teeth in frustration. He saw a damp towel on top of their clothes. Donna knew he hated when she put wet towels into the hamper with their clothes. It would be fine if she washed their clothes on a regular basis, but she did not. She usually waited until the clothes were spilling out before she washed a load of clothes.
Moving aside the skirt Donna had worn to work on Friday, Kurt found his work khakis. And, pulling the trousers from the hamper, a pair of bright red thongs fell out of the hamper and onto the floor.
The crotch of the intimate apparel was crusty. Kurt picked them up and studied the panties carefully. He knew he had never seen these panties before; Donna always screamed insults at Kurt whenever he mentioned he’d like to see her in a pair of thongs. Even if her buttocks were a little larger than they’d been when they’d met, he still liked Donna’s ass.
And, since Donna insisted that Kurt wear condoms because she wasn’t ready to become a Mommy, her panties, thong or not, should not be crusty with dried semen. Absently, Kurt emptied the pockets of his work trousers and put the khakis into the hamper again.
“Well?” Donna asked, smiling in anticipation when Kurt came into the kitchen.
In answer, Kurt tossed the panties onto the table in front of her. Donna looked down at the skimpy panties and curled her lip in disgust.
“I will not wear…” Donna began to shrill.
“Found those in the hamper,” Kurt snapped. “So, apparently, yeah, you WILL wear those. Just not for me.”
“I want a divorce,” Donna immediately demanded.
“You got it,” Kurt said. “Start packing; you’re not spending one more minute in this house.”
Kurt could tell that this was not the response Donna had anticipated. The shock in her eyes, the open-mouthed stare told him Donna had expected Kurt to beg, Kurt to immediately apologize.
“Well? Get busy, Donna,” Kurt demanded and stepped into his office.
“I, I, it’s uh…” Donna stammered.
“Oh, and give those here; evidence of adultery,” Kurt said, returning and grabbing the panties from the table.
“Those are mine; give those here,” Donna screamed, grabbing for the panties.
“Hmm; wonder…whose credit card paid for these?” Kurt asked rhetorically, closing the office door behind himself. “Get busy, Donna. You don’t have all day.”
Kurt sat at the desk and turned on his computer. He absently ran a hand over the polished top of the desk. His mother had bought this desk at a garage sale, had stripped off four or five coats of paint to expose the beautiful oak wood underneath. She had applied a heavy coat of varnish, then had hand polished the wood until it gleamed.
“There we go,” Maisy Schnauder had smiled when she set it up in the den of the home. “A big boy school desk for my big school boy.”
Thirty years later, Kurt smiled as he ran his hand over the smooth desktop. Then he clicked the icon and went onto the Internet. Logging onto the credit card account, Kurt saw some charges to the Home Comfort Inn on their joint credit card. He also saw some charges from Vokine’s and figured the satin panties and matching bra had come from Vokine’s, an expensive clothing boutique in Myndee.
“Good God; sixty four; there’s not enough material cost sixty four seventy three,” Kurt muttered.
Checking their other joint credit cards, Kurt saw more charges that he knew he had not made. He quickly printed out the last three months of charges; the on-line service would not allow him to go back any further in his search.
Kurt did not hear movement overhead. Opening the door, he saw that Donna had not moved from the kitchen table.
“Donna, I’m not kidding; you’re not staying here,” Kurt said tersely. “You got one hour. Make sure you get all your work clothes too. Anything else? We’ll let the lawyers figure it out.”
“I’m not going anywhere; this is just as much my house as yours,” Donna sneered.
“No. Wrong! This is not your house. This is not even my house. This is my mother’s house and I’m sure my mother don’t want a lying, cheating cunt living in her house,” Kurt laughed. “One hour, Donna, time starts now.”
“But, where, where’m I supposed go?” Donna whined.
“Hey, give your fuck buddy a call; see if he wants your fat ass,” Kurt laughed mirthlessly.
“Fat? My ass, have you seen yours lately?” Donna screeched.
“Tick, tick, tick, time’s running out, Donna,” Kurt reminded her and closed the door of the office again.
Donna did hurry upstairs and began stomping back and forth. Kurt checked their bank account and pursed his lips tightly. There wasn’t much money in the account; certainly not enough to pay off all of the credit cards. He selected three of the five cards and paid them off, then cancelled them. The other two, he reported as lost or stolen and requested new cards be sent to the house. Kurt did not know if Donna had any other credit cards. If she did, he supposed he’d find out about them when the bills came due.
An hour and twenty minutes after discovering proof of his wife’s infidelity, Kurt was finally alone in his home. Steeling himself, Kurt called Donna’s father. Though his dislike and distrust of Kurt had thawed somewhat over the years, Bob had never fully warmed up to his ‘baby girl’s’ husband.
“Hi Bob,” Kurt said cheerfully. “Hey, listen, just wanted to let you know, just tossed your slut daughter out of the house. Yeah, found out she’s been screwing around on me. Well, got to go. Have a great day.”
Kurt turned off his phone and then allowed the tears to begin. He had tried. God knows he had tried to be a good and loving husband to the immature, selfish girl. He had stayed with her when she’d lost their baby. He had put her through school. Why had she done this, why had she cheated on him?
It was dark outside when Kurt sighed and turned his cell phone on again. He saw he had five messages. The first one was from his wife. Steeling himself, Kurt listened to the message.
“You son of a bitch; you, really? You just had call my Dad?” Donna’s voice mail screamed.
With a hearty chuckle, Kurt designated that short burst as Donna’s new ringtone. Now, whenever she would call Kurt’s phone, Kurt would hear her indignant voice screaming ‘you son of a bitch; you, really? You just had call my Dad.”
“My, what? Ma’am, I don’t give a shit what your God damned computer says, the card is not stolen; this is my card, Kurt, my credit cards aren’t working,” Donna’s next voice mail screamed. “Ma’am, don’t you dare! I don’t give a shit what, you cut that up I will sue this God damned hotel.”