Lost in You

Olivia?”
    Blinking quickly and shaking my head trying to rid myself of the awful picture in my mind I look up at my attorney and attempt a smile.  “I’m sorry, Clive.  My mind wandered.  You were saying?”
    “That’s okay, Olivia.  I was just asking if you got everything signed?  I am going to have my assistant make you a copy of the documents for your records.”
    Clive, whom I’m guessing is in his early 60s, has a pot belly, receding hair line and rather large ears.  His kind and gentle personality never made me uncomfortable or feel stupid during this entire nightmare of a process.  Once, during our conversation, he divulged he’s been happily married for 30 years and has three grown children.  I imagine seeing the ugly side of marriages and divorces up-close and personal has made him realize how lucky he is.  I never doubted for a second that he would get my divorce done quickly and accurately. 
    “Thanks, Clive. That would be great.”  I tell him as I hand him the documents I’ve signed for copying.   
    Clive leaves his office and I’m left there with nothing but my thoughts once again.  My mind flashes back to my apartment six months ago. 
    I picked up the articles of clothing littering my apartment floor as I walked closer to my bedroom --- a man’s shirt with buttons missing, with lipstick in a shade I don’t wear, on the collar. A woman’s shirt in a very pale yellow, a color I didn’t own.  Given my skin tone, it would wash me out; my complexion is too pale to pull off such colors.  Dark haired women like me should stick to bold colors. 
    I took a couple more steps and picked up an orange bra that must be a double D, two sizes bigger than I wear and in a color I did not possess. An orange bra under a pale yellow shirt?  Really?
    I tentatively, but steadily moved closer to the door and I heard the moans coming from the other side of the door.  Apparently they were much too involved… the sound of my arrival did not even phase their sexcapade in the slightest. 
    Opening my bedroom door, I saw more clothes trailing up to my bed, an empty wine bottle on the side table and all I could think is that it’s three o’clock in the afternoon, a bit early for wine.  It took my mind a few moments to catch up before I fully comprehended the scene in front of me.  A naked thin-bodied, extremely large busted peroxide blonde woman was in my bed, in our bed, riding the shit out of my husband.  His head thrown back in apparent ecstasy, his eyes rolled back in his head.  The bitch was fiercely slapping her body up and down against his.  They had no idea I was standing there.  None.
    “WHAT THE FUCK?!” I screamed dropping the clothing I was somehow still holding in my hands to the floor. 
    I stared, completely dumbfounded. 
    Deacon practically threw the whore off the top of him in reaction to my scream and she went tumbling off the side of the bed. 
    Our bed.
    Our desecrated bed. 
    Deacon yelled, “Oh my God!  Olivia!” 
    “That’s right you asshole!  It’s Olivia, your wife!”  Before I even knew what I was doing I stalked over to the side of the bed where I saw the blonde bitch fall and dragged her up by her hair and bitch slapped her across the face.  Deacon was standing there staring at me with his mouth open, eyes wide and a horror-shocked expression on his face.  Before he could even comprehend what I was about to do I kicked him in the freaking balls as hard as I could. 
    “You bastard!” I shouted “How could you?” 
    With fury coursing through my veins I was shocked at my reaction.  I’m not a violent person, had never hit anyone in my life.  I was completely taken over by absolute disbelief and rage at what I was seeing.  In an instant, literally the span of three minutes, my life had completely changed.  I was filled with absolute agony.  I didn’t deserve this.  
    After my inner bitch did her thing, I stalked out of the room and headed to the couch, where I had thrown my purse when I came home.  During that time, Deacon somehow miraculously recovered from the blow to his crotch and started screaming my name while holding his hand over himself and chased me into the living room.   I snatched up my purse and headed to the front door.  Before I could reach it, Deacon reached me, grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face him. 
    “Olivia, wait… I can explain!  It’s not what you think!”
    I laughed.  I have no doubt it