Lies, Damned Lies, and Infidelity

by Skrubly


	Matthew had been sitting across the table from Maria for the past
three quarters of an hour listen to her talk about her new job, a job that
would take her approximatly fifteen hours north; she had accepted just
yesterday, and now he was getting the conversation.

	It could be summed up in a few words, or a sentence, or if you were
feeling particularly verbose a paragraph.  She was leaving him to work on a
new project at another company, and she had made it clear that he was not to
be part of that equation.

	"It would be foolish of me to pass this up, wouldn't it?" she looked
at him across the half-finished donburi in front of her.  He noticed
something in the corner of her eye, and it didn't look to him to be remorse.

	"And I'd be foolish to prevent you from going." he heard himself
saying.  Of course, he knew that he had no power in the matter - she had
always been in charge of their relationship, in his eyes, and tucked way
back in the corner of his mind he knew that he couldn't argue his way out of
dumped.

	They had met at the Expo three years before.  After being introduced
by Jones on Tuesday, there were days of working like dogs on the showroom
floor, both for and against each other's companies. Alternating between
shoving literature across the plexiglass-topped tables to unending streams
of suited people trudging in currents across the floor and joining that flow
to gather their own information.  But there had been nights, too; nights of
red wine and tangled sheets the color of sand, staying up until the sun rose
before having to dress and act as if the activities of a few hours ago
hadn't existed.

	The fact that they had always worked for competing firms had added a
strange twist to their relationship; when they started living together, work
was never discussed.  In a way, it helped make time for more interesting
discussions, and more relaxing.  Although the higher-ups at both companies
looked down upon the "situation", no one could deny the fact that both had
become more productive, more driven.

	But it wasn't the company Matthew was thinking of, or how they
always went to seperate rooms to do the occasional burning of the midnight
oil that was required by their jobs.  It was how he was looking across the
table at someone he had driven away, not a job.  He didn't want to admit it
to himself, but he knew the truth.

	After she had left, he had sat there for ten minutes, staring at the
ice cubes in his gin and tonic, not wanting to drink the rest even though it
was still half full.  He threw a fifty on the table and left, wobbling back
towards the El to find the house half empty.  Her belongings had already
been moved, by men that came into the house wearing disposable plastic
sandels that made strange imprints in the living room carpet.  

	He sat, in the middle of the room, staring at where the piano was,
two small impressions in the carpet.  

	He knew why she had really left, and his only answer was a bottle of
tequila that he had kept hidden behind the jar of rice on the top shelf.