scenario

“What the hell is wrong with this scenario?” The blonde headed woman with long legs asked seated in her desk chair. She had been at work for six hours and realized she still had at least five more to go before it was time to leave.
         The scenario she questioned was that of a man who loves his wife but feels he cannot make her happy. All of his attempts fail, thus pointing out further shortcomings and disappointing the wife more.
         The irony is the wife disappointed the husband first, with her late nights and bad habits. She had picked up card playing. With the new hobby came smoking and a foul poker player’s mouth. He hated to hear those words come from her once sweet lips.
         “This doesn’t make sense,” the blonde continued, “Why is he so unhappy? I thought she would be every husbands dream wife. My husband could only dream of me like this.” She scoffed at the thought of either her husband being happy or her ever acting in that manner. The young man across the desk was not sure which reason the scoff was meant.
         His face was arrow dynamic in its shape, coming to a point at his nose. His hair black and combed to the right, the longer bangs tucked behind his ear. He hated to get haircuts and prolonged them as much as possible.
         “Hank, don’t bother me with this trash again.” Debbie tossed the papers across the desk. They slid into Hank’s thin lap.
         “Okay Debbie, I just thought you might get a kick out of it and …well … okay.” Hank stood up. He nodded and left the office, closing the door behind him. Debbie spun around in her chair to face the window. The view over looked the Delaware River and over to Pennsylvania. Her office door opened.
         “Debbie I want a divorce.” He placed the necessary papers on the desk.
         Debbie did not turn to face her husband, “No Derrick. It was a mistake marring you but it would be a bigger mistake divorcing you.”
         In the reflection of the window, Derrick could see a grin come across her mouth.
         “Then at least hear me out. Now…there are a few things…”
         “Oh stop it Derrick. Go home and keep a plate warm for me.”  Debbie slowly turned her chair to face the deflated husband.
         Derrick dropped his head. He had mustard all his strength to ask for that divorce. She sapped his strength in seconds with a few words and now he was empty and going to do as she had requested. He spun around, never looking her in the eye, and walked to the door. “Debbie,” He whispered, “You’ll be home late again?” instantly he was upset with himself for asking a weak question such as that. He wanted to choke her, but instead his cowardice,( he claimed it was humanity) took the subservient position.
         “I’ll be home when I get there.” She picked up a manuscript and began marking it with a red pen.
         Derrick shut the door behind him. Hank was sitting at his desk. There was no eye contact with Derrick, though Hank tried. He wanted to tell Derrick his wife was just in a bad mood or something to cheer the man up. There were no words of comfort today for Derrick.
         
         The double metal doors of the elevator opened. Derrick, with his head still hung low bumped into the man coming out.
         “Oh excuse me. I’m sorry.”
         “No harm pal.” Came a husky voice from a large framed man. His jaw square, with matching square shoulders that hung arms like sides of beef. “Can you tell me where Debbie Drewer’s office is?”
         Derrick looked up at the lumberjack. “Oh, second door on the left.” Derrick wondered what a man like that would want with his editor wife. Derrick observed no briefcase or even a folder. There was nothing in the man’s hands except calluses.
         He watched the man enter the office. The next elevator arrived; by the time Derrick was to the ground floor, he was convinced his wife was having an affair. Well he was going to make it an affair to remember.
         
         “Yes.” Debbie said holding the button to the intercom.
         “Mr. Joshua Harringbone is here to see you.”
         “Then send him in.” Debbie ran a hand over her tightly pulled hair making sure every strand was in place. The door opened and Debbie smiled a smile that hurt her face.
         “Hi, Mrs. Drewer my name is Joshua Harringbone.” Josh stepped up to the desk and extended his hand. Debbie intercepted the callused palm and allowed her wrist to break femininely.
         “My pleasure Josh.” Her grin collapsed a little but her eyes made up the expression.
         “Thank you for seeing me. I wanted to pitch you my idea. It is loosely based on my time as an ice trucker in Alaska.” Joshua continued with his story and Debbie continued with great eye contact and small gestures and little laughs, never listening to a word the man said.
         When he stopped talking Debbie stared at him. He stared back, “Well.”
         “Oh sorry, I was just taking it all in. It sounds wonderful.” Debbie sat erect in her office chair.
         “Great. Mrs. Drewer, that is great news.”
         “Please call me Debbie. Now first thing is first. We will need to work closely together.” She let the word hang for a moment, “Closely, building a manuscript. I will, of course edit, and then we can go from there to publish it. How does that sound.” She sat back in the chair. During her pitch, she had reached the edge of her seat.
         “Okay I am willing to do what work needs to be done.” Joshua put a hand on the desk to steady himself because he was on the edge of his seat too, but for a different reason, he was excited about the possible book deal.
         “That is wonderful news.” Debbie put the end of the red pen in her mouth then running it along her lips. Reaching across the desk, Debbie put her left hand on top of his. “We’ll make wonderful partners.” She said slyly.
         “I think it we’ll work great together.” Josh said exuberantly, showing a boyish nature that further attracted Debbie. He had not noticed the hand contact until Debbie recoiled her hand slowly running her fingertips between the crotches of Joshua’s fingers. He pulled his hand back, realizing her full intentions of their relationship.
         Looking down, he ran the accosted hand over his tie. “Mrs. Drawer please, let’s keep this a professional relationship. Aren’t you married?”
         Debbie picked up the divorce papers left by her husband and began fanning herself with them. “Perhaps, perhaps not.” She then let out a devilish laugh that turned Joshua’s stomach. He did not intend to become a home wrecker.
         “Josh, honey, what’s a little professional fun between two consenting adults?” she laughed again, this time it carried slight embarrassment as well as a tone to mock Joshua’s innocence.
         Joshua stood up, “I’m sorry, but I will not allow this to continue. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
         Debbie laughed again, louder and more mockingly.
         “Go home to your husband. I’m sure he is a good man deserving of your love. Good day!” Joshua turned swiftly and exited abruptly.
         A few seconds later the intercom buzzed, “What is it Hank!”
         “Just checking in Mrs. Drewer.”
         “Don’t call me Mrs. Hank.” She clicked off the intercom ending the conversation.
         Debbie turned in her chair to face the window again. Her mind traced the steps back to her wedding and the year leading up to it. She had shared many laughs and good times with Derrick. How had their marriage come to this? What had changed and further, what had caused the change. For the rest of the day she took no phone calls and saw no visitors.
         At six-thirty Debbie emerged from her office. Hank pushed a button on the phone abruptly hanging up on whoever he had been conversing with.
         “I’ll be leaving now Hank.”
         “When will you be back Mrs..er..Ms. Drewer?”
         Debbie paused; Hank expected an eruption over his use of Mrs., or even for the fact that he asked a question.
         “I’m going home.” Debbie put her other arm through the coat sleeve and reached for the door to the hall. “You can leave in an hour.” She exited to the hall.
         Eleven, twelve, thirteen hours a day with Debbie and not once in six months had Hank seen her leave early. He was not going to ask a second question.

         “Debbie is that you?” Derrick had to ask, he had not seen his wife home this early in months.
         “Yes its me.” She caught that her tone was sharp. She tried a softer tone, “I decided to come home a little early for a change.”
         Derrick was in the kitchen preparing dinner when his wife of eight years surprised him with an early return from work. Chopping away at an onion next to a stack of chopped peppers, he called to her again. “Debbie I’m in the kitchen cooking dinner. That is some good timing you have there.” His voice was slightly shaky due to his uneasiness of his wife’s early return.
         “Oh darling,” this was a turn for Derrick, “Derrick I came home early to be with you.” Debbie took off her coat and shoes at the door then found a seat at the table.
         “How wonderful Debbie.” Derrick was not sure what to make of his wife’s much improved attitude. He sensed an impending wrath as he dumped the diced vegetables into the pot and stirred.
         “Smells delicious Derrick.” Debbie poured a glass of wine from the table.
         “Oh it is, it is.” Derrick found himself grinning from ear to ear. “I believe it is just about done.” He went to the table and picked up the bowl form the place setting in front of his wife.
         The steaming bowl of broche soup was placed back on the table. Debbie picked up a spoon with great anticipation; she had always thought her husband was an excellent cook.
         “I don’t think I tell you enough Derrick, just how great a cook you are.” She said between sips.
         “Thank you Debbie I use-” He was cut off.
         “This handsome young man came into the office today. Built like a lumberjack this one. Anyway he got me thinking….” Debbie’s voice trailed off. Derrick tuned her out. How dare she mention this lumberjack at the table let alone during a meal he had prepared. He could not take her adulterous affairs any longer. Tonight would change all that. He decided to rush to the main course.
         “Is that so Debbie.” Derrick was back over the oven adding a dash of this and a dash of that with a dash of cyanide.
         “Yeah, he really got me thinking. Oh, thank you Derrick.” Derrick took away the bowl and replaced it with a plate of veal. He then took his seat across from her. Her early arrival did place a kink in his plan. In the morning he would wake up and find he had been alone all night. Upon going down stairs, Debbie’s body would be lying on the floor. He would check her breathing and attempt CPR but it would not help, she would be dead. The medical examiner would call it a heart attack, blaming it on her long hours and stressful career. There would be no digging, no suspicions of foul play. As for the divorce, well those were not real divorce papers, they were not even good fakes, they were cooking recipes.
         “He really got me thinking, or maybe it was those divorce papers you gave me…COUGH….ah this is so good but suddenly I don’t..” She grabbed her chest.
         Derrick picked up a fork and knife and began cutting into his veal, “Yes dear, you were saying.”
         “I don’t think we should get a divorce. I love you and we’ve had such..” She gripped her chest again. “Derrick,” she coughed a few more times, “I think we should start, we should start…” She collapsed to the floor.
         Derrick took a bite of the delicious meal he had prepared. Salt, he thought, it needed a dash more salt. Then his wife’s words echoed, ‘we should’ “We should what Dear?” he said to her corpse.