Sonya's Midlife Crisis

Published by: eXtasy Books

ISBN :978-1-77111-157-7

Page :248

Word Count :76052

Publication Date :2012-10-06

Series : #

Heat Level :

Available Formats : Sonya’s Midlife Crisis (epub) , Sonya’s Midlife Crisis (mobi) , Sonya’s Midlife Crisis (pdf) , Sonya’s Midlife Crisis (prc)

Category : Contemporary Romance , Romance

Product Code: 978-1-77111-157-7

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When Sonya’s husband tells her he wants a divorce so that he can marry his pregnant girlfriend, she goes a little berserk! So, how does the worst day of her life turn out to be the best thing that ever happens to her? Forty-two-year-old Sonya learns it’s never too late to wake up and grow up!

“I need a divorce,” said Earl, “So I can marry my girlfriend. She’s pregnant.” He added in a rush, “See, it takes six months and she’s going to have the baby in about six months.”

“What?” I asked, spearing another hotdog with my barbecue fork. Not a funny joke, I decided, impatient to get all the hotdogs done before the buns burned to a crisp. The smoke was burning my eyes, so I turned away from both my husband and the grill. I rubbed my eyes on my arm and made a kind of gagging sound.

“Uh, I need a divorce…so I can, uh, marry my girlfriend.”

This time he was hesitant.

My husband stood there, wavering back and forth, a near empty bottle of beer in his hand. His face looked silly and boyish, like he’d been stuck in adolescence for twenty years. Of course, isn’t that what had appealed to me seventeen years ago? His bleached blond hair stood up in short spikes like an aging, wannabe surfer dude.

“Very funny, Earl. Get the barbeque sauce from that table for me, would you please? I need to add a little more to these hamburgers.”

It was the family reunion, a thirty-sixth birthday party for Earl’s younger brother, Scott. Earl was forty-eight going on fourteen, and as usual, was the life of the party.

That is, until he walked over to me with that strange look on his face. I wiped my forehead with my arm, feeling the heat of the grill strike me in aromatic waves, not in the mood for any of Earl’s horseplay or practical jokes. The party preparations had exhausted me, but Scott was a special brother-in-law. He was my friend.

“Sonya, you don’t understand. I’m not joking. I need a divorce.” Earl looked around at the relatives standing near the grill, waiting for their dinner, and lowered his voice. “I hate to break the news here and now, but Jennifer said the best place to do it would be a public place. Guess this is about as public as you can get.” He chuckled and threw his head back as he downed the rest of the bottle.

Was he drunk, I wondered, or was I? Did I hear him correctly or was the heat and smoke affecting my hearing? I looked up at him and stared. Sure, Earl was drunk or at least on a loud buzz, but his expression was serious. Just then, Scott approached the grill. Evidently, he’d overheard what Earl had just said.

“What’s the matter with you, you idiot? This isn’t the time or place for chrissakes.”

Like an automaton, my head swiveled and my eyes met Scott’s. My brother-in-law, the man I most admired and liked in Earl’s big, sprawling, fun-loving and raucous family, looked at me with blue eyes filled with shame and humiliation. And anger.

Was it true? What Earl was saying?

My throat burned and clogged. I couldn’t speak for a full minute. If Scott was looking at me in that way, then he knew something I didn’t. Somehow I eked out the words, “W-who’s Jennifer?”

Earl’s head dropped, his eyes raking the ground like a kid who’d been caught stealing from the emergency-money jar. Like all the times he’d disappointed me in the past, all the minor and major infractions of marital trust he’d committed over the years. He’d hang his head like a little boy and expect forgiveness. Like I owed him. Like the world owed him. Sure, he was drop-dead gorgeous, a dead ringer for Brad Pitt and the Bartons’ Golden Boy, but this time he’d gone too far.

“S-she’s my…uh…girlfriend.”

After that, something exploded in my mind. I recall seeing colors, like fireworks shooting off in my head—red, yellow, orange, Pepto pink, then finally—mercifully—black.

What happened was the strangest thing. I’d later call it my nervous breakdown. It was like my mind left my body and watched from above as this woman in a two-piece swim suit, wielding a long-handled fork, chased a man in shorts around a pool. During the chase, somehow the grill ended up in the pool, Earl made a big belly splash, joining the floating hotdogs and soggy buns. People reached the crazy woman in the swim suit and held her down. Scott pulled Earl out of the pool and dragged him out of the backyard in a headlock. The mad woman screamed, then went limp.

Floating above the fracas, I watched as Earl’s two other brothers carried her inside the house, my feelings aroused more by curiosity than by concern. I do recall thinking why that woman was being so mean? Hey, maybe she deserved it if she’s so crazy. Maybe she brought it upon herself. Mostly, I was detached emotionally. Like I was watching a French farce from the rear of the second balcony. Or like watching a train wreck from a safe distance. Strangely comical and yet terrible.

When I came back into my body—I don’t know how much later— I was lying in my darkened bedroom. All the shutters were closed, the only sound was the ceiling fan which whirred softly. Two shadowy bodies lingered nearby. My eyes began to focus. Earl’s younger sister, Connie—the baby of the family—and her husband were sitting at the end of the bed, looking worried. The patio area was quiet, the house as silent as a morgue.

“Omigod, did I kill someone?” I asked, trying to swallow back a sob. I suddenly had an image of me wielding the BBQ fork like a knife, sharp prongs slashing downward. But there were no police officers standing nearby with handcuffs dangling from their belts.

I looked at my hands. No blood.