The TGI Chronicles Part 2 Dave s StoryChapter 9
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The TGI Chronicles: Part 1 - Too LateChapter 7 free porn video
On the Saturday I went into the office for a few hours. Partly to work, but I took the opportunity to move into Perry's office. That way Monday morning would be a fresh start.
Other than that, Saturday was a day of chores, from shopping to housework. I did take some time out to go to the gym, I was really beginning to enjoy my sessions there. Afterwards I walked over to Symmonds & Burtons to see if Rose had an inventory of contents for Blindside. Really, I think I was hoping that I'd get a chance to talk things through with Rose, get her to help me see a way forward. Unfortunately, she wasn't there, although her colleague found the inventory I asked for.
Sunday was Phil and Denny's barbeque day. I was certain that Beth wouldn't be there. She wouldn't risk an embarrassing scene, and Denny would have told her that I fully intended to be there. I had been looking forward to it, the first social activity since Fateful Friday. I thought I needed to talk, laugh and joke with other people. I was so, so wrong. No sooner had I arrived than people were asking "Where's Beth?" I should have predicted that, but it came as a hurtful surprise. Mostly I answered with a neutral comment such as "She couldn't make it." A couple of times I tried "We're not seeing eye to eye at the moment" but that led to the knowing wink and "You mean she's back home swearing about you, and you're here enjoying yourself." I left early.
Monday I was in the office by eight o'clock. That meant I was quietly working in my office whilst everybody arrived. So, when I emerged, it was a surprise to everyone, and I could here the murmurs go round the office.
At about eleven o'clock my cell phone rang. The screen said 'Grge&Mary'. I answered it tentatively "Hello?"
"Hello, Tim. It's George here."
"Yes, George. What can I do for you?" I was still tentative.
"Well, I wanted to phone you and apologise. I think I owe you an apology."
"Why's that?"
"Well I have to admit that I had thought the worst of you. And I did rather tell you, for which I'm sorry. But yesterday, Beth told us what has been happening. I guess none of us really know or understand what goes on in other people's relationships, but it does seem as if Beth has rather been guilty of a lot. It must be bloody for you."
"It certainly hasn't been much fun." I said wryly.
"No, I don't suppose it has. Anyway, I thought I ought to say how sorry I was, how sorry we are, Mary is very upset."
"Thank you, George."
And that was it, really. Beth had told her parents. So, the ball was back in my court.
I went to get myself a coffee. Stella was dressed very smartly, and asked if I wouldn't mind if she could take a late lunch. I happily agreed. Dave was at the coffee machine, and he apologised for his Friday night call, he hoped he wasn't out of order. I assured him that somewhere in his poor befuddled mind there had been a kind thought, and he wasn't to worry. I went back to my office with my coffee, and stared into space for an hour wondering what to do next.
Then Charlie came in to ask if I'd chosen my new company car. Talking to him took up to lunchtime, which was good as I doubt whether I could have worked.
After lunch I picked up my desk phone to call Beth just as my cell phone rang. It was 'Grge&Mary' again. Maybe this was her, knowing that her father had phoned. I answered, but it was Mary.
"I know George phoned you this morning, but I know he won't say what really needs to be said. He's having some difficulty accepting what Beth had to say, he's offered every possible excuse for her, it's a fathers and daughters thing I guess."
"What happened, I know she was petrified to say anything?" I asked.
"Well she went to Church yesterday morning. It struck us as a bit odd, but she was so stressed we thought it might be a good idea, let her find some comfort wherever she can. But she didn't come back when we were expecting. We found out later that she had sat and talked to someone, not the proper vicar, just an assistant, for some time after the service. It must have helped her, as she came home and told us everything. Anyway, George and myself were about to sit down to lunch, having given up waiting for her, when she eventually came in. And she just came out with it. Well, you can imagine Tim. After lots of tears, and her father stomping round the garden for half an hour and quite a lot of shouting, I think we calmed down."
"Well I'm glad you're talking. I believe she'll need that."
"She needs more than talking to us, Tim. If you can find it in your heart, she needs to talk to you."
"Well, I promised I would. Tell her to phone me and we can set up a time and a place, 'though God knows what we can sensibly say to each other."
"I'll get her to phone you. And you can always meet here, George and myself will stay well out of your way. It would just be a place to meet that is private."
"I don't mind. See what Beth thinks."
I came into the office on the Tuesday to an email from Beth:
Dear Tim,
Mummy says that you will meet me. Thank you.
How about here at 19:30 tomorrow evening?
All my love,
Beth.
I replied that I would see her there.
I phoned Phil. He was taking a surgery, but the receptionist said she would get him to phone me back. He did so when I was out of the department, but Stella took the message, and I phoned him again, and we actually spoke. Yes, Denny and Beth were meeting this evening, and No, she wasn't going to report back to me on anything that was said, unless Beth asked her to do so.
There was not a lot to be said, or done, so I got on with work. Stella had dressed very smartly for her dental appointment in the afternoon. I purposely worked very late, it was better than thinking.
Wednesday at work was meeting after meeting as I began to take a firmer grip of the whole department, laying down my standards. There were a couple of heart to hearts with unhappy people who didn't like my standards, but that was to be expected. I left in good time to get to Beth's parents by seven thirty.
As I drove along, I wondered what the evening would hold. I was determined not to just try to hurt Beth with sharp retorts. She was right about that, it got us nowhere.
When I arrived, Mary said that Beth was in her room, probably still getting ready. George took me into his study, as friendly as he could be, he even gave me a glass of his favourite malt whisky from the decanter he kept in there with a brief "You could probably do with this" as he handed it too me. Then I heard Beth on the stairs, I went out into the hall.
Beth was just at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in my favourite dress, a simple silk summer dress in pink. I always said it made her look like the perfect English rose. Mary was standing at the kitchen door, looking apprehensive, but she was the first to break the silence, "Why don't you two use the sitting room. George will be in his study, and I'll be in the kitchen. We won't disturb you, but do call if you want some coffee or a drink."
I led the way into the sitting room and Beth followed me. I sat down in a big comfortable armchair, my whisky still in my hand. Beth sat on the front edge of the sofa, staring at her knees and twisting a handkerchief between her hands. I swallowed my whisky in one gulp. The silence continued.
I guessed it was probably up to me to say the first word, "I should congratulate you on telling your parents what's happened. It can't have been easy. I hope it's made things a bit more relaxed and easier for you."
She looked up. "It was horrid, but I think it has helped." she tried to smile, weakly.
Silence, followed by more silence.
"Look Beth, I don't know what we are meant to say, or even how to get us so that we can just talk. Would it help if I told you some of the things I'm having difficulty with?"
She looked at me. "Well, all I can think of is just to say how sorry I am, and I guess you know that."
"Well that's a start. Tell me what you're sorry for? Hurting me, or having the affair?"
"Both."
"Look, Beth. I really do think, however sorry you are, that you've blown it. You've thrown away what I thought was the most wonderful marriage. I don't think it matters how sorry you are, or whatever reason you had for doing what you did, there just isn't a way back for us."
"No, don't say that. Please Tim..." Her voice had an urgency, a panic, and was breaking with possible tears.
I went on, trying to ease the moment back to something more manageable, "Well, I'm happy to talk. I might find some understanding of what you did so that I can put it to rest, in my past, but that's me being a bit selfish. If you find that too painful, and would rather we just have a clean break, then say so. I'll thank you for the most wonderful ten years of my life, and I'll always regret that you chose to bring it to an end."
I wondered if I should stand up to go. She looked at me and realised that I was at some sort of breakpoint. "I don't understand why you are so committed to divorce. Surely you can only take that decision after we've talked, not before?"
I sat back. "Yes,... Well... Beth, I'll talk for as long as you want, but I think I'll end up in the same place."
Silence
I tried another tack, "Beth, I said I wanted a copper bottomed guarantee that you would tell me the whole truth about anything that I wanted to know, however painful to either of us. Do you want to give me that?"
"I'll try and do whatever you want, Tim. Anything that gives us a chance to get back together, however remote. But please don't ask me about Ken or why I did it. I don't want to even think about him, and certainly not talk about him. And I have no reasonable excuse for what I did. I'm just consumed with hate for myself, for the evil that overtook me, for what I've done to you."
"But, Beth. Surely you know why you did it? Something must have been going through your head at that time?" Now I was pleading, with my voice breaking.
"Don't you think I've asked myself that a thousand times. Lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, and asking Why? Why? Why? But I can't give you a single valid reason. I have no excuse." she looked at me with tear-filled eyes.
Part of me wanted to take her in my arms and hold her, to let her know that maybe it didn't matter anyway. But I couldn't. There was a little voice in my head saying 'She means that she can't find the appropriate PR phrase to cover her failure, She's decided it's better to say nothing.' I needed a break, maybe another whisky. I got up and walked to the door. Then I realised what that would look like to Beth.
"Don't worry. I was just hoping your father might be a bit more generous with his whisky. Can I get you something?"
"No, nothing." she visibly relaxed.
I went out it the hall. Obviously Mary heard me moving and was there in a moment. I told her I was just after another whisky. She took my glass and went into George's study, only to come out a minute later with a refreshed glass.
I went back into the sitting room, making some light comment about how she had made me turn to booze. Beth looked concerned, and I assured her that it wasn't true. I realised that, if anything, considering the circumstances, I was drinking less than usual. I told her that I was having to learn to iron shirts again.
That led to a few minutes conversation about how we were living since the split. Nothing surprising in either of our lives. In turn, that led to Beth asking if I still intended to move into 'that' flat. She said it with bitterness.
"I expect so, but I haven't taken the final decision. Make my mind up time is in about a week."
"It seems so final, you leaving all we ever had." she sounded sad.
"Well, it isn't of my choosing." she winced "Oh I don't mean that as a dig at you Beth. But I didn't go looking for it, the flat that is, it came to me. And when I saw it I knew it would be the fresh start I need, not because I'm walking away from you, but because I can't stand living in the house. It's too depressing, I don't want to be reminded at every moment just what I've lost. Everything I touch, everything I look at is a reminder. Sorry, Beth. It just hurts too much."
She sort of smiled reassuringly, "I can understand that. You hate all those reminders. I would love them, I'd cling to them."
"Well, once I've moved out, why don't you move back in? I guess that if it is divorce we will have to sell it, but you might as well live there 'til then. It's probably better that someone is there rather than leaving it empty. I guess we will have to sort out who's paying for what at some stage."
"Don't worry about that. Daddy's promised to pay for anything that gets to be a bit of a problem. And, yes, maybe I will move back. I can't live here forever, they'll drive me mad." She looked sad at the prospect of living alone.
"I'm only moving out because I don't like living there, I'm not running out on whatever we want to do. But, if I am going to move out, we need a traditional splitting-of- the-CD-collection meeting. Could you come over one evening and agree as to what I'll take?"
"You just take whatever you want. I won't argue. And anyway, even if some of the CD's are mine, you were the only one to play them. I never touched the hi-fi, I never thought of it."
"Well, I'd still like you to come over one evening. I'll call you and arrange it, once I'm committed to the flat..."
We fell to silence again. This time it was Beth who had the new thought, "Maybe we could talk about what our future might be, either now or when we meet next. I do want a chance to show you, to prove to you, that we can recapture what we had. I know it won't be the same, but it can be as good as we choose to make it."
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- 22.09.2021
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