Half the Man Ch. 03

"Yeah, you're probably right. Hey, I got some pretty interesting news from work today. Why don't you have a seat in the kitchen and I'll fill you in after I tell this bill collector to kiss off. I think you are going to like this," he said with a chuckle.

She fidgeted with her violet nails as she answered, "Umm, yeah that sounds good—honey."

"You okay dear? You seem out of sorts," he asked with concern.

"Oh I do? Sorry, it's been a pretty hectic day for me." She took a breath, "I'll uhh, meet you in the kitchen."

Troubled by her mood, he attempted to soothe his nervous wife by gently taking her into his arms. Instead Mari shrank away from his touch.

Puzzled now by her apparent rejection he quietly and conciliatory whispered, "Mari, I love you very much, and I know it's been as difficult for you as it has for me. But now that I'm off most of the medications, I'm beginning to feel like me again. What we've been going through will strain any marriage, but the two of us together we can make it if we believe in each other." He paused, and with great conviction, "Mari, I believe in you. Please baby, don't give up on us. Okay?"

Mari nodded her head and sobbed, "I'll be in the kitchen, by the patio door." She quickly hurried up the bank, and left him alone.

Dylan, baffled by Mari's hasty departure walked into their apartment and limped to the front door, his cane thunked rhythmically with each step. When he rounded the corner, he saw the person Mari referred to sitting in the living room. The stranger looked up and did a double take when he saw Dylan's severely scarred face. Dylan was getting used to stares and paid it no mind. The middle-aged man stood and in his hands he held a large envelope and a small clipboard.

Before Dylan could say a word the man looked down at the clipboard and asked, "Sir, are you Dylan Alexander Hunt?"

"Yes, that's me. What is this regar..."

The man interrupted, "I have a registered letter that requires your signature. Please sign here." The nervous stranger stared at the scars as he presented the clipboard and pen to the mildly confused husband.

Dylan looked at the paper and although a bit puzzled by the 'acknowledgement of receipt', signed the paper. As he returned the clipboard he asked, "Kind of formal for a collection agency, don't you think?"

The man looked at the signature, smiled and handed the perplexed husband the envelope, "I am sorry sir, I have no idea what you are talking about. Dylan Alexander Hunt, you have been served." He then turned and hurriedly left the apartment.

Dylan stared at the envelope. 'Served what?' he wondered as he opened it.

He scanned the cover letter and grabbed the back of the chair to keep himself from falling.

"A petition for divorce! Oh god no, please don't do this!" His heart skipped a beat and he cried, "No, Mari, no! Please don't let her win, Mari, Mariette!!" he yelled and hobbled quickly into the kitchen. When he entered, he saw Mari standing by the patio door, tears in her eyes and a suitcase in her hand. He started towards her but stopped when she put her hand up.

"Dylan I'm so sorry, but I...I...I can't do this anymore. I'm not strong enough. When I first met you, you took my breath away—the attraction was strong, I can't deny it. You reminded me so much of my dad; it was like a fantasy." She wiped her eyes, "But, we should have dated more and gotten to know each other better before...before we married. It...it...was after that godforsaken accident, I realized what we had wasn't love—but young immature lust. I got lost in the moment, enamored with the idea of being married, and I fin..." Dylan started to speak, "No don't talk, my mind is made up. I finally figured out you are not who I thought you were and I don't want to spend the rest of my life with you."

She sniffled and drew a deep breath. "I'm sorry for doing this now, but I guess there never is really a good time—I...I didn't ask for much because of the catastrophe you suffered. You've been—hurt—enough. Please just sign the papers so we can get on with our lives. I...I...I wish you well, I will re...re...member you fondly." It was a distraught sounding Mari who turned and fled out the patio door.

Dylan, paralyzed by her words, didn't move for several moments. Suddenly he screamed, "That god damned mother of hers. She did this!! I won't let this happen!" Anger welled within him and hot tears burned his cheeks. He grabbed his cane and almost ran out the door. He turned towards the parking area and was about to yell for Mari to come back when he saw—three of them? It was Mari, the bitch and some man putting her suitcase in the blue sedan's trunk.

Sylvia sneered at Dylan and gave him the finger. The hate Dylan felt for this woman overrode his judgment. All he wanted to do was strangle the bitch. Mari peered from behind the open trunk lid and saw her soon to be ex hurrying towards them. She looked to her mother for encouragement and with a tinge of sadness yelled, "Dylan stop right there. It's over; we're over, so leave us alone. Just sign the papers."

The trunk slammed closed and the dark-haired man puffed out his chest. He glared at Dylan as he started heading their way and moved to intercept him. Mari reached out and grabbed him, "No Christopher, he's not worth going to jail over. He's a cripple and...and...not half the...the..." Despite her mother's look egging her on, Mari stopped her attack. She instead gave Christopher a chaste hug and asked him to open the car door. Mari looked back at Dylan; he had stopped and seemed confused. Her bravado vanished and she hesitated unsure of what to do next.

"Mariette, get in the car."

"But mom, I...I...can't do...thi..."

"Mariette, get in the car NOW!" Sylvia shrieked. Her daughter obeyed and the door was closed.

Dylan's heart got stuck in his throat when he heard what Mari said. It wasn't the insult; it was the man's name—Christopher. His mind raced back to a few days ago when she said with a chuckle, 'But let me answer the unasked question, no—I am not—'sleeping' with him.'

The bitter pain morphed to rage when he realized the joke was on him. He looked up as the car started and with all the strength he could muster threw his cane at the departing vehicle. The car jerked to a stop when the right taillight exploded. Christopher flung open the door and had one foot out when Mari screamed at him and pulled the angry man back inside. Dylan started towards the car but stopped when the reverse lights came on. He was shocked when it moved quickly towards him. He placed his hands on his hips and defiantly waited for the collision.

There was a sickening crunch followed by the screech of tires, and then all was quiet except for the sound of ducks swimming on the pond.

Several hours passed before the patio door slowly opened and a broken man cradling a broken cane limped in. He set the pieces on the table, opened the refrigerator took out two beers and placed them next to the shattered cane. Silently he picked up the divorce papers and absently thumbed through the pages. A great sadness washed over Dylan Alexander Hunt as he looked out at the setting sun's reflection on the pond. He set down the troubling papers picked up a bottle and took a sip of the golden liquid. His moisture-laden eyes drifted to the empty bench and thoughts of happier times. Soon the shadows of night enveloped his memories and as the last vestiges of light disappeared, Dylan laid his head on the table and wept.

End of Chapter 3

to be continued...