Short Fiction--The Guy Next Door: Part 14

I may be in the shit house. Not sure, but I’m thinking maybe. A man doesn’t live to be sixty without having picked up a few tips about women.

Tip #73—Turn right back around if you hear she’s listening to Aretha, because she’s in a mood and you do NOT want to mess with her.  I watched her dance with the cat through the blinds until “Respect” came on then I high tailed it.

I think I know what the problem is, too. Again, I’m not a boy trying to be a man, I am a man weathered and worn, who’s learned that it’s well worth my while to put a tad of effort into trying to figure shit out.

The soon-to-be-OMG-it-can’t-come-fast-enough X-wife showed up on my doorstep unannounced. But, that’s not the issue—I don’t think. The women met once but have no animosity towards one another as far as I know. I think what gND’s stewing about is that I was stupid enough to let her stay at my place. And, not for just the night she showed up but the whole damn weekend. My guess is that gND thinks my newly acquired girlfriend may not approve and I have not a doubt that she's right about that point.

Here’s my thinking, in my defense. The wife, she’s so close to signing the damn papers I can taste the ink. I’m very hesitant to do anything that might stir the snakes. It’s been a long ass year and I want this mess behind me. I’m gonna be the bad guy no matter how you toss the dice, so best get on with it.

Could be because I stood her up, too. I pay her to cook and clean for me and I had asked her to make me a special dinner and to give me a few hours of her time to bounce a business idea off her. I’m trying to figure out what I’m going to do with myself when I retire and she’s been a great listener, so far. I'm sort of scared that I may have burned my last bridge with her. Not much I could have done though.  

Unless you ask gND—she’d tell you that there was sure as hell a whole lot I could have done other than let the brazen, manipulative woman cross the threshold, let alone turn down the sheets on her side of the freakin’ bed. She’d say I was just making excuses and she’d be right about that, too. She’d ask why I was so afraid of the woman I 'd spent a quarter of a century with, and I’d be biting my lip because ‘bout now, it’s not just the wife I’m fearful of. In fact, she may be the least of my problems. Heck, I’ve got to live next to gND-- I’ve got to face her again someday.

OK, not 'someday'. Soon. I can’t let this thing between us grow, I know that. But, holy shit—I am NOT, under any circumstances, encroaching on her soul sister revival session. On a Friday night, occurring at deafening decibels. OH HELL NO.

Besides, she left me the rosary she had been stringing for me on my door knob. I’m taking that as a hint and will be hunkering down with a bourbon and my base, counting my blessings while I’ve still got ‘em.