Mario was such an exotic name I had to agree to the interview. He had read I was good with numbers and he needed an accountant to manage his books. The job description seemed pleasant enough….not too demanding and I was ready for a new job.
Marty and I had recently split up. He said he could no longer cope with the unexpected calls from Headquarters to work at the company’s various offices around the world. He was absolutely right when he said I was away more often than at home. But I thought he liked it that way as whenever I arrived back I sensed Marty had not spent the week miserably enduring the long hours on his own. I invariably came across tell-tale signs of an overnight visitor like an unfamiliar lipstick, a lingering smell of perfume (rarely the same) and even the odd scrawled note that was not from me but addressed to Marty. These notes generally amused me as love hearts always surrounded them. Marty had become careless or perhaps, like me, he couldn’t have cared less any more.
Our expensive one room apartment looked over the beautiful Waitemata Harbour. I paid the exorbitant rent. Perhaps Marty was interviewing prospects to replace me when the inevitable occurred. Then I walked in on his latest fling draped over our bed.
As predicted, our separation happened. I was actually relieved. It happened six short months ago. I resigned from the global IT Company that solved encryption codes and data storage problems, gave up the apartment and bought a rustic house by the beach at Muriwai. I gave Marty the option of joining me but I was pretty confident he would opt out. He did and we parted amicably. None of this was crying into my cup of soup stuff.
Last I heard he was back in an apartment with a gorgeous international air hostess…a perfect arrangement for Marty...only the most sophisticated for him.
One day, as I walked my dog along the beach a woman, dressed in pink shorts and matching tee shirt calling herself Elaine, stopped to admire Scruffy, my dog. After patting Scruffy on her brown tufted head she stood and with clear hazel eyes, a wide pink painted smile, perfectly styled greying hair said, “My boss, is really impressed by your Linked In profile. He wants to meet you."
He had overheard my name at the local real estate agent's office, she said.
Half wondering if I should call the local police and report I had a stalker, I gave her the courtesy of listening. It was a beautiful day, the sea was washing over my tanned feet, and I was in no hurry to go anywhere. My new lifestyle was hard to beat really.
My attention drifted to the sea and I only half heard her say, “he’d like to meet you.”
I shrugged. With a decided lack of interest, I gave her an old business card with my cell number on it.
Writing Order: Vatsal Shah India, Sumanda Maritz Sth Afr, jlabrum USA, DonnaMcT NZ, Roseyn Aust, Kalli Deschamps USA, Ray Stone Cyprus, Suraya Dewing NZ, Anna Zhigareve Scot, Gabrielle Burt NZ
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