The Seven Deadly Sins: Envy

"How did Tracey look when she was talking to you, Beth?"

"If you're asking how she feels about what she's done to you, Dave, then the answer is guilty. She tried to hide it but I could see it was breaking her up. She knows she is destroying a good man, but you know her, that won't stop her."

"What about you, Beth? Why are you supporting me?"

"It's just the right thing to do, Dave. My sister always bullied me when we were growing up. What she's doing to you is just plain wrong. It has offended my sensibilities. Remember, I have been where you are. I know how it feels to be abandoned. You were there for me when my mistake took off on me; not Tracey. I'm happy I now have a chance to return the favour. I'm on your side, Dave. I've always had a thing for you and I just can't stand to see you abused like this."

"Well, Beth, I just don't know what to say. I can't promise..."

"No, silly, I don't want us to hook up. That would be just too weird. Besides, I've been seeing a guy for about a month now and we're getting serious."

"I'm happy for you, Beth, you've always been my favourite in-law. I hope this guy really works out for you."

"Thanks, Dave. Just believe me that I'll help any way I can. Think of me as your personal spy."

With that we hugged and she left. I returned to Wendy and our friends. By the evening, we'd had to explain the developments to three more friends over the phone. All the gestures of support and empathy were cathartic. So much so, that after a jointly cooked meal, we discussed the future. Before we did, though, I took two lots of $200 from Beth's stash and gave Wendy one. I showed her where I was putting the rest in the cookie jar. With Beth's gift, I figured we could make it through to my next pay day. I told Wendy what Beth had related today. She didn't seem surprised. Her childlessness had been an increasing issue in her marriage. Wendy mentioned I always seemed to get agitated at this time of night. I thought about it.

"It's 8:30p.m. For as long as I can remember, I've read the kids stories at this time and put them to bed."

I could see a tear in her eye as she said, "What are we going to do?"

"Well, my number one priority is the wellbeing of my kids and that obviously doesn't include leaving them in the hands of those scheming pricks. Then, I need to have the means to look after them so that means going after the money. I haven't decided about revenge yet but I find the thought of leaving them unpunished really offensive. What about you, Wendy?"

Her beautiful face hardened suddenly.

"If he'd just asked me for a divorce and offered me a fair share of our assets, I would have been fine. Now, I feel humiliated. Please don't take this the wrong way, Dave, but now I just want to see him burn."

She said this with such an intensity I vowed never to get on her bad side. I smiled to let her know I understood.

"Well, now we know what. Let's discuss how."

We stayed up for another three hours throwing ideas around. We discussed and discounted all conceivable ways of raising funds to buy some lawyers. There was no joy there. Being basically law abiding citizens, we limited our discussions to mainly legal and ethical methods of winning. We got nowhere. With no apparent way forwards, I asked Wendy to describe Shithead's wealth. They had moved to town two years ago and he had cleaned them out buying the house and the store. Later, using the store, his house and his boat as leverage, he'd borrowed $2.5M to expand it. That was the only weak point I could see. We discussed using that vulnerability to attack him. If we could threaten his business, that may give us the leverage to get better terms on my seeing the kids. I didn't give a shit about the money, but my kids were everything to me. Wendy was all in favour of a scorched earth policy on his business, but I was uncomfortable attacking a guy's means of putting food on his table. Even a lowlife like him.

We went to bed way too late for a Sunday. At work on Monday, I told my boss what was going on. He offered what support he could, short notice leave and an advance on my annual leave. I tried to do my normal job but it was hard. Every second of the day, I missed my kids.

I gave up in the afternoon and just spent time with the authority's financial controller and legal counsel. I should probably stop and tell you about the people I work with. People look down on those of us that work for local government. Everyone knows it's a very safe organisation to work with, but pays poorly. So, almost like social outcasts, we band together to look after each other. If I was overseeing some roadworks and we had a little bitumen left over, well, let's just say neither the financial controller nor the legal guy had gravel driveways. By the end of the afternoon, I knew a lot more about how business finances worked, and the limits of legality, than I did in the morning.

At home again, Wendy and I discussed our days. She had cooked dinner, after spending the day looking for a job. She'd been a PA before quitting to become a wife. We were relaxing after cleaning up, when a phone call and a visitor changed my life.

At 7:30p.m. the phone rang and I picked it up.

"Daddy, where are you, Daddy?"

It was Maddy. A lump threatened to block my throat.

"I'm here, darling. At our house."

"I don't like it here, Daddy. Please..."

At that point, I heard Tracey's voice in the background, "Madeline, who are you speaking to," then the phone went dead.

Wendy saw the expression of thunder on my face and asked who it was. I said, "Maddy," and headed towards the door. Wendy chased after me and tried to restrain me. 5' 2" against 6' 1", yeah, that was going to work.

"Don't, Dave! That's what they want. They want you in jail for breaching the restraining order. Don't do it."

That pulled me up. Instead of walking out the door I headed up the stairs to my bedroom to be emotional for a while in private. I'm not sure how long I lay there, but suddenly there was a soft tap on the door and Wendy came in carrying three of the kid's books.

"Will you read me a story?"

I stared at her, then the books. Silently, I shuffled over and made room for her to lie beside me. I chose Maddy's favourite and began reading. By the end, I was calm again. I leaned over and kissed Wendy's forehead just as I had Maddy's for eight years. She smiled. Up until now, I'd pushed most thoughts of my kids into the background. The thought of losing them or having them living in broken homes, was just too much for me to handle emotionally just then.

At that moment, the doorbell rang. I was stunned to see Sophia—never—Sophie standing there. She was Tracey's best friend and I'd always got on well with her. I invited her in and introduced her to Wendy. Sophia had trouble making eye contact with either of us.

After some small talk, "I just wanted to apologise to you, Dave. Tracey put me in the position of knowing in advance some of what she was going to do. That's why I haven't seen you much for the last five months. She made me promise not to tell you about her affair. Sorry. I tried to talk her out of it, but you know what she's like when she has her mind set on something. I knew she was going to divorce you and fight you over the kids."

I remained silent when she went quiet. Here was a girl with an extremely troubled conscience. My first reflex was; here's the enemy and if she's expecting sympathy she's going to leave disappointed. Then it struck me. Maybe here was another source of inside information. For a decent person, guilt can be a serious motivator. I just had to add to it a little.

"It's okay, Sophia. I can see what a horrible position that would have put you in."

"Thanks, Dave."

"You do know she closed our accounts and left me without a cent don't you?"

"Yes, she was bragging about it when I saw her tonight. I say bragging, but I think it was just bravado. I think she's suffering extreme guilt, inwardly, over what she's done to you."

Until now, Sophia had struggled to make eye contact but now she looked firmly into mine.

"For the record, Dave. I didn't believe for a second what she said about you hitting the kids. I've seen how you and she are around James and Maddy and I know you wouldn't do that."

"WHAT?"

"Didn't you know? She told child services you physically abused the kids. She said they couldn't prosecute because there was no evidence, but the allegations alone were enough to get the restraining order..."

The shock of this news caused me to slump in my chair. The fucking slut. I was ten times the parent she was. Both my house guests just stared at the kaleidoscope of emotions that must have played out across my face. I was oblivious to all except the last one. Pure, implacable hatred. As my whirling mind settled, I knew with dead certainty what I had to do. If one party in a contest fights clean, and the other dirty, then the result is inevitable. I knew I had to fight as dirty as I could imagine. Then I had to get a better imagination. I have no idea how long it was before I was capable of speech.

"Will that woman stop at nothing to win? I've never laid a hand on my kids."

"Yes, I can see that in your face, Dave. Like I said, it didn't sound right when she told me. I know lots of fathers and they're always going out with the boys to bars or fishing. I know you spend every free moment with your kids. I've seen you with them, and know you would take a bullet for them without hesitation."

"Too bloody right I would. They're my future. What a lying, devious bitch. You know what her full game plan is, don't you, Sophia? We've found out from... another source, she intends leveraging our money and this house against getting full custody of the kids. Then she wants Wendy's husband to adopt the kids, while all the while telling him she will have one with him. He's desperate for an heir, apparently. I'm sure she will delay attempting to have a child with him until they're married, saying she doesn't want their child to be born out of wedlock."

"But she can't have another child, Dave."

"I know that and you know that, but Mike Sucker Smith doesn't. By the time he finds out, she will have traded half of our modest house and bank accounts for half his fortune. The collateral damage to me, the kids, and you, is purely don't-give-a-fuck-territory to Tracey."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. What type of best friend lies to you about her husband abusing his kids?"

I stopped and watched the ultimate truth sink in to Sophia. Her best friend was a sociopathic bitch. Clearly embarrassed, she made her excuses and left. I tried to retreat upstairs and be emotional again, but Wendy grabbed me and hugged me. Neither of us said anything. We just enjoyed the companionship in silence. Two humans in pain, seeking solace. Eventually, I thanked her and we retired for the night.

I don't know how much sleep Wendy got, but I certainly didn't get much. The offence I took at Tracey's tactics battled with the pain I felt from Maddy's phone call. I guess I must have succumbed about 4:00a.m., when the outline of a plan was to the point I was reasonably comfortable with. The next thing I knew, Wendy waking me up by throwing the curtains open.

"Good morning, sleepy head. Breakfast is ready."

After a shower, I headed downstairs. Even though it was early, I rang my boss and asked for time off. He readily agreed. Wendy just looked at me across the kitchen table.

"Wendy. How dirty do you want to get?"

"Why, David, I didn't know you cared."

She fluffed her hair up at the back, in a coquettish way and grinned as she said this. I grinned in return.

"Cheeky bitch. I meant, how dirty are you comfortable with this fight getting?"

"Try me. What are you thinking?"

"Oh, not much. I'm just thinking of destroying your husband's business, annihilating my wife's support base, and destroying her plans completely. Leaving them both quivering, broken wrecks, that all."

"Hmm, that sounds like a good start. I have some thoughts along those lines as well."

We compared notes. After breakfast, while Wendy hit the internet and researched libel and slander laws, I rang Tracey's mother. I was right; she had no idea Tracey had gotten children's services involved and was shocked at her daughter's tactics. Next, I rang Beth and repeated my story. She was going to disown her sister on the spot, but I convinced her to hide her contempt and become our Trojan horse. By the time I'd finished my calls, Wendy had done her research and we compared notes. We then spent a companionable hour in the workshop making two signs.

Half an hour later saw Wendy and I, in deckchairs, sitting on either side of the main entrance to Michael Brown's place of business. From research, I knew the building was on land leased from the local authority. We weren't trespassing. Our chairs were prominently placed but in no way impeded the flow of customers. I held a large sign that read; 'Talk to me about how the owner of this store stole my wife and children'. Wendy held one that said, 'Talk to me about the morals of my husband'. It soon became obvious Wendy was getting more trade than me. To be expected, I suppose. She was much easier on the eye than me.

A pattern soon emerged. People were reluctant to stop and talk when I was on my own but as soon as one did, others were comfortable enough to let curiosity overcome their reticence. Once they did stop, I simply told them the facts of the story. Wendy's research had confirmed what we both suspected—in our country it's perfectly legal to tell the truth. As long as we stuck to the facts, we were free from charges of defamation. Satisfyingly, almost everyone we talked to decided to shop elsewhere that day. People seemed genuinely offended by Tracey and Shithead's actions. The men, by my story; the women, by Wendy's. While the effect on business was negligible, our plan was progressing.

In between Joe Publics, we had some illustrious visitors. Just before lunch, the store manager came out and threatened us with calling the police. Wendy taped me as I offered to give him the police non-emergency number. The police did show, just after lunch and after some discussion with their controllers, asked us to move our chairs back slightly to less impede the flow of traffic. Our faith in the plan's success was bolstered around 4:00p.m., when a reporter from the local radio station asked to talk to us. We had quite a little crowd gathered as Wendy and I went through our stories. They seemed to take most interest in my relating the allegations of abusing my children. Child abuse is such a sensitive subject, an alleged perpetrator raising the subject was rare. They disappeared after promising to stick to the facts of what we'd told them. We stayed to wish the manager goodnight as he locked the doors that night, promising to see him in the morning. We were both ecstatic at the coverage we got on the local news that night.

Sure enough, the next morning we bid him good day. Shortly thereafter, two uniformed security guards turned up and successfully got between us and potential conversationalists. This time I called the police. They arrived and had a word to the manager, presumably along the lines of his role in stifling our right to free expression. I bought them each a coffee from the van that had set up to cater to the gathering crowd. We appeared to be the hottest entertainment in town that day. Wendy had helped our cause by dressing in perfect jilted wife clothes. Damn, that woman could be an actress. She certainly had the looks for it.

We missed the two guys in suits approaching. We were too busy watching the state television news van setting up across the street. By the time I was presented with a Cease and Desist order threatening to sue for loss of trade, currently estimated at $30,000 a day, the whole scene was on digital tape. The suits beat a hasty retreat, leaving us to talk to the journo about our little human interest story. Again, we stuck to the facts and begged them not to embellish it in any way. I held up the writ, prominently bearing the letterhead, 'Slugden and Pyke', at the top.

After another satisfying day, we went home when the store doors were locked. Enough people had stuck around for the promise of further entertainment it was obvious people had second thoughts about running the gauntlet. We sprinted home to watch the nightly news. I jokingly suggested Wendy get an agent. However, it hurt when our article was aired. A crew had set up outside cheaters mansion. When I saw my bewildered children being rushed out of sight, after returning from school, it was like a knife to my soul. Yep. I read Wendy another story that night. We were also receiving an average of ten phone calls a day from friends and acquaintances expressing dismay at Tracey's actions. I thanked them and suggested they vote on her friendship with their feet. Tracey must be becoming the loneliest woman in town.

At 9:30p.m., Sophia knocked on the door. She didn't answer my greeting. She just came in for a very tight hug. After she broke off, she just pressed a memory stick into my hand, turned, and fled with tears were streaming down her face. Intrigued, I took it inside and Wendy and I plugged it into the computer. Talk about dynamite. It was a recording of Sophia confronting Tracey about her lies to herself and children's services. It recorded Tracey's confession as she desperately tried to justify her actions. It didn't stop until Sophia had stormed out of her former friend's life for the last time. Our excitement diminished slightly, as we realised, illegally recorded as it was, the tape was of limited value. We did discuss sending it anonymously to our new friends in the media, but that would get Sophia in trouble. Our newfound determination to be nasty did have some bounds.

Unfortunately, there were no newsmen around the next day when we were served by none other than Reginald Pyke LLB himself. He tried to do us both together but we wouldn't cooperate. After all, one of us had to film the events. We were each being sued for vast amounts. What a waste of time. They, of all people, knew we were broke. After that excitement, we went back to our lonely vigil. Yes, I said lonely. There were precious few to the store that day. Maybe, it was the sudden plethora of advertising from other stores, who sold the same stuff as Mr. Smith. It was easy to imagine the competition, sensing his vulnerability, moving to increase their market share. Shark, meet feeding frenzy.

We filled the time filming ourselves and our fan club. Whenever a delivery truck arrived, we filmed that as well. Taking especially clear images of the supplier's company logo on the side. Maybe they could be guilted into becoming ex-suppliers.

At 2:00p.m., two worried employees came out of the store. They said that at a staff meeting they'd been warned to expect to be stood down. That hurt. Wendy interviewed me urging other good businesses to consider taking on any redundant staff. That file went into the collection.

At 3:30p.m., the state news van appeared again, unexpectedly. Right on cue, three more guys in suits, but no ties this time, appeared. In full view of the cameras, they announced they also were lawyers. They'd been moved by our story and the injustice of it all. They offered us their services, in defence of our divorces, free of charge. Is that what 'pro bono' means? After the cameras stopped rolling, their chief, Brian Coulson, explained he was an ex-partner of Pyke and Slugden who had been stitched up by the other two. Hell hath no fury like a lawyer scorned. We invited them to join Wendy in her office; okay, the coffee shop across the road. They were still there when my 'work' day ended and I joined them. For the price of fifteen cups of coffee we left with the paperwork signed for them to represent us in our divorces and my child custody battle. Old Coulson's eyes lit up when we told him about Sophia's recording but we refused to hand over a copy. If he was a typical lawyer, his response to any talk of ethics would be to reach for the atlas to pinpoint it on the map.