The problem with Mandy was that she really didn’t listen. She looked like she was listening, but she wasn’t. She might pick the things that she thought were important but couldn’t be guaranteed to remember them.
She was scatter-brained; it was part of her charm, but it sometimes frustrated me. After 12 years of marriage, I’d learnt to love all her foibles. We had fun together and were best friends. I couldn’t have loved her more. I was good at showing it, too. For a big bluff guy, I tried my best to be romantic, with lots of gifts, flowers and not just on special occasions.
She drove the new car and I drove the old banger. I wasn’t bothered about having a flash car, a big house or material things. That was for her because they made her happy. Happy wife, happy life and all that.
I earned good money, but it wasn’t the most glamorous job. I worked in the warehouse; I was the distribution manager of a large confectionary business. I had a huge staff but a little windowless office. Due to health and safety rules, I also had to wear boots, a hard hat and a high-vis jacket on the warehouse floor.
Mandy was not impressed with that; she wanted me to wear a suit with a nice office with windows overlooking the park. I’d explained that most of those suits didn’t earn as much and were lower down the food chain than me, but she didn’t listen.
My work Christmas party was legendary. Our bosses were very generous, a beautiful hotel and everyone from the lowliest worker on the shop floor to the Chairman attended.
Mandy and I and always loved these occasions. She loved the chance to get dressed up and I loved the opportunity to show off my beautiful wife. I also loved to dance with Mandy, to hold her in my arms on the dance floor.
We had a rule, no dancing with anyone else. That’s why I was shocked last Christmas to come back from the bar to see Mandy dancing with Jason Kent. Although she had broken our rule, it wouldn’t have bothered me too much, but this was a slow dance. I wasn’t going to sit there and watch him run his hands over my Mandy. I cut in and said,
“Thank you for looking after my wife whilst I was stuck at the bar, Jason. I’m back now. You can go.”
I think something in my tone ensured that Jason didn’t argue. Mandy knew I was angry.
“You didn’t have to do that; he was only being kind.”
“Yes, kind enough to get his hands on my wife. Don’t think everyone didn’t see where those hands were roaming, either. You broke our rule; you didn’t have to do that.”
It was very quiet at home for a few days until I calmed down, and things seemed to return to normal.
It was February when Stan, one of the older men in the warehouse, came to see me. I respected him.
“Look, boss, there’s no easy way to say this, but your wife is seeing Jason Kent. I’ve heard some of the lads talking about it. They wanted to sort him out; they are loyal to you. They gave me this.”
With that, he passed me his phone. There was a video of Jason and Mandy in her car. Let’s just say they had progressed from slow dancing. I thanked Stan for his loyalty and to tell the lads to do what they felt they had to but not to get into trouble on my account.
After Stan left, I requested a full audit of Jason’s orders. I am very popular in the accounts department. It didn’t take long to find enough discrepancies to have him dismissed.
Mandy seemed pleased when she came home to find me wearing a suit.
“Have you had good news at work? Have they finally promoted you?”
“No, Mandy. I wore the suit to see the solicitor; I’m divorcing you.”
“Divorce? Why?”
“If you don’t know, perhaps Jason can help you understand?”
“Jason? But I did that for us. For you. I didn’t even enjoy it. He said he could get you an office overlooking the park, out of that awful warehouse.”
“That awful warehouse paid for all this, Mandy. How was Jason going to help me get a promotion? I’m his boss’s boss!”
The problem with Mandy was that she really didn’t listen.