You’ll remember I had left Dillon McKlusky in the restaurant and gone to the washroom. He was frantically looking at texts coming in to his phone, and he was sweating bullets.
After fixing my makeup in the washroom, and chuckling to myself, thinking what McKlusky’s wife might be venting at her revolting husband, I paused a while before returning. The moment seemed almost too good to hurry. Instead I wanted to savor it. The pictures of McKlusky being blown by a man had be sent to his wife’s phone a few minutes earlier. As I walked back into the dinning room the doors to the street were swinging, someone having hurried out.
I guessed that McKlusky had stormed off. He was certainly nowhere to be seen. The waiter came up to the table as I sat down.
“Your friend took off,” he said doubtfully.
“It’s ok. I’ll have the bill now, please.” I maintained my calm demeanor. I think that’s so important, don’t you? I was calm on the outside, but inside my head I was soaring above the night clouds. I was giving McKlusky the kind of surprise he deserved after how he’d bullied me as a young teen. And best of all, he had no idea who had sent the picture to his wife.
I paid and left the restaurant. How typical that I should be stiffed with the bill, even in this moment of triumph. Nothing could change my happy mood.
I decided then that I should return to church on Sunday. It would be interesting to see how that played out. And so, a couple of days later there I was filing into the church, and guess who was there.
“Hello, Dora,” I said to McKlusky’s wife. “Such a delightful day.”
Dora looked tired and nodded.
“How is Dillon,” I said, looking about the congregation. “Not coming today?”
Dora sniffed, and wiped her nose. I could see the glint of a tear in her eye.
“Are you alright, my dear?” I reached over and put my arm about her. “Is there something wrong?”
Dora’s eyes filled and she started crying, and telling me her husband was a pig and a lot of other things that didn’t really make any sense.
“Now, it’s all right, my dear. Don’t you worry. Why don’t we just go off and have a nice cup of tea, and you can tell me all about it. That’s what my mother always used to say. ‘Things’ll be better after a nice cup of tea!’ I’m sure things are going to work out.”
Dora sniveled affirmatively, dabbed at her eyes and we left the church. I was hamming up my country roots, to the point even I thought myself over the top.
“You know, Dora,’ I said, giving her a lingering intimate hug as we walked. “I want you to know that I’m here for you. Don’t you worry. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for whatever happened.”
There was a quiet tea shop a couple of blocks away. We found a secluded table, and I waved to one of the waiters, then turned to Dora.
“To be honest, Dora, I think all men are pigs at heart. But we have to put up with them, don’t we? And you know what? At least we’ve got each other! Isn’t that right? Now, what’s Dillon gone and done?”
You’ll learn in the next part!
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One Reply to “The sweet stench of revenge – 8”
I like the way you comforted that poor woman.