He had finally put his foot down, said what he thought, and had for the first time in over 26 years stood up to her, stood up to this woman he had loved, cherished and obeyed.

“I will if I want, who is going to stop me?” she said in a deep guttural voice. “You, you piece of slimey crap, you milktoast, you ballless bas . . . . . .” But she did not finish the sentence as he slapped her in the face. For the first time in his life he laid a hand on her. He slapped her hard.

His eyes narrowed as she cowered, slunk back and glared at him. “You will not.” He spoke in a strong authoritarian tone. “Go in the bedroom and take those clothes off and put on something decent. Do it, do it now!” He stepped forward and she slunk back. “And wash your face. Remove that clownish stuff from your face. Move, move now!”

She wiped her face for it was red. He had slapped her hard. She looked about, as if looking for a weapon, but she turned and walked into the bedroom and closed the door. She did not slam it, nor close it hard, but lightly and daintily.

First he thought about having a big drink, getting drunk, screaming, hollering and acting like a damned fool. Instead he smiled and thought, thought about how these years had gone, and how they could have gone. He made a pot of coffee and then turned on the oldies AM radio station. He felt relieved, really relieved, as he got two old coffee mugs from the back of the cupboard, rinsed and dried them. The coffee was finished, and he poured himself a full mug, then poured the remainder into the insulated carafe.

As he was dumping the grounds and rinising the pot, he heard the bedroom door. He ignored her.

“Fresh coffee, can I have some?” she asked in a quiet unassuming voice.

He turned and she was in her normal sweatshirt, jeans with a pair of white sneakers on. Her face was rosy where she had removed ther make up, and her hair was tied back.

He picked up the carafe, poured her a cup, and then asked, “Want a cookie?”

She smiled. “No thank you, I have to lose ten pounds, my clothes are getting tight.”

He smiled, “It becomes you, well I think it does.” He sat down at his place at the end of the table and she sat down at her place on the corner. He sipped his coffee and looked out the window. That mother robin was working hard to get her new nest built. He always enjoyed watching the two robins who nested in their yard. They worked so hard to make a nest, then they laid the eggs and sat on them. If the young robins managed to survive, she would teach them to fly, and to forage for food. It was an endless chain.

“What would you have done if I had gone?” She lay a hand on his as she asked and looked into his eyes. “What would you have done?”

With no show of emotion, his eyes moved to hers, “You would have been finished with me.” He spoke in a low clear voice. “I would have called the bank, frozen the accounts, cancelled the credit cards, and when you went inside, I would have brought the car home and disabled it. Then I would have gotten one of those big boxes and put all of your stuff in it.” Her face showed disbelief. “I would have had all the locks changed, and when you returned all of your stuff, your things, would have been in those boxes on the curb. And Cletus would be filing the divorce papers, and then a restraining order, plus informing the CID of your actions.”

She looked at him in disbelief, then mellowed. “You would have?” He had always been an easy going give her what she wanted, let her do what she wanted. Something had changed in him. Well not a change in him but something about him had changed, he was not the same man she had been married to.

“Yes, and Cletus would have givien you ten thousand and had you sign for it and that would have been or will be your part from the divorce.”

His eyes were not their normal big and bright eyed, but were smaller and more narrow, his expression was one which made her cringe, cringe in fear if she made him mad. A look she had never seen before.

“You have gone to bed with half the men in this town," he said, "And you have done drugs and had orgy’s with high school boys. I loved you too much to admit what you were, what you are. But today you pushed me to my limit. Today you broke the last link.”

Her face changed, changed to one of a seductress, as her hands took his and her voice and mannerisms became that of a hunting woman, a woman with prey in her sights. “Lets go in the bedroom and make up, OK?” She was smooth, and she was slick.

He smiled and looked at her. “Finish your coffee, and then go pack your bag. Take enough for a week. I will pack the rest and have them delivered to you.”

“What? What are you saying? You telling me I am being thrown out of my own house?” Red spots of anger colored her cheeks and her dark eyes narrowed with seething hatred. She glared at him but when her mouth opened, he put his finger to her mouth.

“Shhhhhhhhhhh, do not say anything. I called Joe and rented the apartment beside where you used to live. I paid three months rent.”

She knew not to say any more.

“Tomorrow morning the papers will be filed. You will get ten thousand, and the apartment for three months. No car, no charge accounts. We are through.” He paused and looked at her. “Until the last look, I was willing to try to work things out again. But your little façade, your charm and your wiles have gone too far.”

She took his hands into hers and placed them upon her ample breasts. “But we are husband and wife, half of what you have is mine, matter of fact I will get me a lawyer and take everything you have.” Again she was the Madam Jeykell and Madam Hyde. “I will clean you out."

“Lets not argue, lets just enjoy our last cup together, and then you pack.”

She saw she was not getting through to him and her control which had work so well and so long was not working.

He walked into the other room, and she heard his filing cabinet being opened and closed. He came back.

“Look at these,” he handed her a stack of maybe fifty photos.

Her face cringed as she looked at the five by seven photographs, photographs which showed her having, giving and enjoying sex with five boys, and of her with, well someone had lots of photos of her. She handed them back to her.

“And these.” He handed her a sheaf of papers. She looked at the first one. It was an affadivit from Homer Swathless, about their trysts, and how she had always provided drugs. Then five from the football players she had taken to Croakville for a three day orgy. She handed them back to him, finished her coffee, and went into the bedroom and packed a bag.

He dropped her at the little apartment and drove off.

“She was mad. Yet, she felt like a fool for she had no cell phone, no new car to drive, no credit cards, no checking account. And she knew she was being watched.

As he drove to his attorney’s office, in his mind etched deeply was his last view of her, “Red spots of anger colored her cheeks and her dark eyes narrowed with seething hatred,” for she had gone too far.