Chasing

Leslie always wears dull colors, colors that draw little to no attention to her as a secretary because she shouldn’t stand out. She never fights to stand out and does her job effectively.

I open my eyes and that perfect image of her disappears. I sigh, asking myself if I am slowly going crazy. A knock comes on my door and I grumble in irritation.

“I am not interviewing anyone else today, Peter.”

Peter, my assistant, opens the door, walks in and bows.

“I sent the other applicants home already sir. I am here for other reasons.”

“What is it?”

He places a brown envelope on my table and I give it a short glance before looking to Peter for answers. “This was sent to the office. It’s from your wife, sir.”

At the sound of that, I sit up in my chair and grab the envelope, urgency flowing through my veins like blood itself. Peter hands me a letter opener and with it, I tear the envelope open. My mood sours the moment I see the words written in bold letters on the front page of one of the documents arranged carefully into the envelope.

She did it.

Leslie filed for a divorce. Her signature is there on the paper beside the empty spot where mine would be if I ever think of signing the goddamned divorce paper. I fling it across the room, cussing so loud my assistant trembles. Her resignation letter is there too and boiling rage makes me tear it into pieces until my office is littered with tiny pieces of paper. Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

On second thought, I stand to get the envelope I threw across my office. I need to know where she is. I need to find her so she can serve me these papers to my face and I can tear them up in front of her. The mailing address is printed right at the top of the envelope.

“Find out where this is,” I give my assistant the order but he doesn’t move.

“I did that the moment I got it sir. I checked but it seems to be a fake one.”

He can’t even meet my eyes as he says that. He keeps his eyes down while I try to control my anger as I squeeze the envelope in my hand, feeling helpless.

“Leave,” I say to him and walk back to my seat, aggressively pulling my tie from around my neck, “I want to be alone.”

He does as he is told but th

“What now?”

stops at the door, making me cast him an irritated glance.

“You asked me to clear your schedule today and make a reservation for dinner this evening. I just wanted to remind you that it’s an hour from now.”

Right, I almost forgot I have a date with Beverly. I am in no mood for that anymore. Not after getting that envelope from Leslie without any means of reaching out to her to let her know that there is no way in hell

I am signing that shit. However, as much as I want to, can’t cancel on Beverly..

The dinner date is my way of making up for our last encounter and to strike a balance with her as the mother of my unborn child.

“Fine.” I say and he tries to leave but a thought crosses my mind before he can leave, “Walt, did you call to tell the hotels to lift the restrictions on Leslie?”

He shakes his head, answering, “No sir, you never gave the command.”

I realize I should have done that a long time ago. Isn’t it better for me to let her have a place to stay so I can be informed and easily find her?

“Then do it now. If she shows up anywhere, let them know she can be allowed in and I am to be contacted immediately.”

Peter nods and disappears through the door. I recline into my seat, sighing and counting down to the time of my date with Beverl