Rising from the Quiet Storm

Jennifer Porter, my ex, stopped dead in her tracks and gave me a mocking look.

"Nelson, just three years and you've already got our daughter calling someone else 'mom'? All that 'I love you' talk back then was just an act, huh?"

My daughter, Sienna Chapman, was beside me as I pulled away from her grasp and crouched down to give her hair a gentle tousle.

"Sienna, I've something to handle right now. Can you tell Mom to hang tight for a little while?"

Sienna, ever the good girl, scampered off.

That was when Alfred Jones, who was hovering by Jennifer's side, could not resist throwing in his two cents with a snide tone.

"Jen, Nelson's probably still sore about that grand gesture you did for me, booking the whole place. That's why he's egging Sienna on to get under your skin.

"If he's got himself a new bride, why isn't she here making a scene with him? Look at him, not a thing to his name that he could show off. He's had it rough these past few years, and still, he doesn't come crawling back. Jen, you're not still holding out for him, are you?"

'Me? Turn back?'

I shot Jennifer a look of disbelief.

She met my gaze, her laugh cruel and mocking.

"I thought you left for greener pastures, but look at you now, more down on your luck than ever.

"Sure, you're nothing without me. You've slimmed down, maybe even got a bit more dashing, but who's going to want a guy with a kid nearly grown?"

Her words did not stir anything inside me.

Back in our honeymoon days, I got sick and lost my appetite.

Jennifer, distressed at how gaunt I had become, went out of her way to find cures and nurse me back to health.

She, a wealthy girl who had never so much as boiled water, cooked up new dishes for me daily.

Everyone said I was lucky to have such a caring wife, and I felt blessed to have found her.

Then, depression hit, and with it, the weight piled on.

My once-beloved wife had turned on me, ridiculing me for being an embarrassment, for not being as dashing or as clever as her childhood buddy, constantly using those words to shame me.

Back then, I would cradle my daughter in the dead of night, silently torturing myself with guilt and sorrow.

The pain had mostly faded, replaced by regret for not ditching Jennifer sooner.

Alfred let out a mocking laugh. "Nelson, I can tell life's been rough on you. Everyone's keeping it low-key today, but there you are, all decked out like a peacock. Trying to snag a rich lady, huh?

"With a kid in tow, what kind of catch do you think you'll land? I'm a secretary at Jen's company, and we're looking for a security guard. The pay is six hundred and seventy-five dollars a month. You should apply. I bet you'd nail the interview."

I glanced at Alfred's dark red suit with its flashy gold trim.

"You're looking sharp. Are you on the same hunt for a rich lady?"

Alfred sputtered, wounded. "Jen, Nelson's got it out for me."

Jennifer quickly stepped in to defend him, her brow furrowing as she chastised me.

"Alfred is here as a guest of the organizers for the jewelry design contest. He's supposed to look good, not like someone with your questionable motives."

I paused, a laugh bubbling up inside.

The irony was that I was a judge at that jewelry design show.

The whole event was a promotional stunt by my wife for her new jewelry collection.

Who would have thought that the assistant would invite Alfred to compete?

Alfred mistook my silence for embarrassment and pitifully offered me a glass of red wine.

"Nelson, you've got to get out more. Stop obsessing over women all the time. Check this out. This bottle's on the house. Thirty thousand dollars a pop, reserved only for the big shots like us. This one bottle could easily pay your rent for the next fifty years. Here, try some," he said, handing me a glass.