hair back and squared her shoulders before stomping down the driveway to her tiny red convertible parked behind my more modest black Mercedes. Our cars could be a symbol of our entire marriage. Hers flashy and showy, meant to get attention, and mine designed for safety and reliability. How did I ever think we could be compatible in the long term?
And even though she had been the one to shit all over her marriage, I still felt guilty. Because I wasn’t a completely heartless bastard. I didn’t like playing the part of the asshole. Screwing a woman and then showing her the door wasn’t my style. Even if she completely deserved it.
I saw Mrs. Hamilton call out a greeting to Chelsea, who staunchly ignored her in her haste to leave as quickly and dramatically as possible. She squealed her tires as she peeled down the quiet residential street.
I rubbed my forehead, feeling the stirrings of a headache that only Chelsea could cause. I checked my phone, groaning at the time. I quickly ran back upstairs and got dressed, grabbing my briefcase and keys as I ran out the door.
“Good morning, Adam,” Mrs. Hamilton called out as I rushed to my car.
“Good morning, Mrs. Hamilton,” I greeted her with a smile and wave.
“How are things?” she asked, her rheumy brown eyes darting in the direction Chelsea had just gone.
I gave her my most dazzling smile, the one that had gotten me my fair share of perks over the years. I ran a hand through my hair, making a mental note to get it cut. Lena complained that with my hair hanging shaggily in my face, I looked like a kid who had just graduated high school rather than the successful criminal defense attorney that I was.
“Things are great. How about you? Did you call Kyle to have him come around and clear up that brush in your backyard?”
Mrs. Hamilton waved away my comment. “I can’t have you spending your hard-earned money on my rotten tree. I’ll just wait and see if my Daniel can come over some time and cut it up for me.”Mrs. Hamilton’s son Daniel was a good-for-nothing piece of shit, and she and I both knew he barely visited or called, even now that her husband had passed away. The only time she heard from him was when he needed money. Given that he had a substantial gambling problem, I was only surprised she didn’t see him more often. I felt sorry for her, even if my sympathy would have chaffed her. I had taken it upon myself to look after her now that she lived alone.
Chelsea used to complain at how much time I spent visiting our elderly neighbor.“She’s a nasty old coot. Why bother with her? Unless she’s planning to leave you something in her will, that is,” Chelsea had said many times over the years. Chelsea’s issue with Mrs. Hamilton was that she didn’t have a penis, thus she couldn’t manipulate her. My soon-to-be-ex was depressingly predictable.
When I had noticed two of the large oak trees in Mrs. Hamilton’s yard had come down after a particularly violent storm, I had told her to call my best friend from high school who now ran his own landscaping business. I knew Kyle would never charge the old dear a damn cent, but I had slipped him a couple of Benjamins for his good Samaritan duties.
“It’s no problem, Mrs. Hamilton. Honestly. How about I call Kyle myself and have him swing by this afternoon. You should be out in your yard enjoying this beautiful weather,” I told her, unlocking my car and throwing my briefcase on the back seat. I glanced at the time again. Shit. I was going to be late.
Mrs. Hamilton smiled, her eyes were crinkling. “You’re a sweet boy, Adam. And you deserve much better than what you’ve had.” Her mouth pressed into a thin line, making her opinion of Chelsea very clear.
“Thanks, Mrs. Hamilton. That means a lot. Well, I’d better get going—”
“I hope you’re not getting back together with that woman. She’s no good for you,” Mrs. Hamilton went on. While she meant well, I usually tried to avoid her attempts at meddling. I knew that she was lonely. And bored. But I had enough people offering unwanted advice and opinions when it came to my personal life.
“There’s nothing you need to worry about, Mrs. Hamilton. I promise.” I smiled again, though it felt strained this time. “I need to get to work.