The Divorce

By R.J. Tennyson

The tearing sound of the packing tape fills the room. Jeff grunts lifting the heavy box towards the pallet.

“Michelle wants a divorce.”

The box hits the ground a few feet short of its intended resting place. “What the fuck?” Jeff says, placing a hand on Sully’s shoulder and giving a squeeze.

“When did she tell you, Mate?”

“This morning,” Sully answers, trying to force away the lump that’s forming in his throat.

“This is why I’m single. They can’t be trusted. When you least expect it – BAM, they crush you,” Jeff offers.

They sit on the edge of the pallet. Jeff takes a cigarette out, lights it, and hands it to Sully. As Sully inhales the warm smoke Jeff turns to him and watches sympathetically.

“So what’s her story, Sull?”

“She told me that I’m incapable of giving her what she needs anymore.”

“Fucking hell,” Jeff sighs. “Is she for real? Fucking inconsiderate bitch. She’s lucky to have you.”

“She said that I was distant – never there for her…”

“What the hell do they want from us? It’s never enough. Never! You’re better off without her, mate. You hear me? Just move on. It’s her loss. There are plenty of fish in the sea.”

Sully glares at Jeff. “Just shut-up. You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. She is the love of my life and I planned on being with her forever.”

“Forever? That’s a long time, Mate; a bloody long time. Nothing lasts forever.”

“No shit.” Sully snaps back. “Anyway, just shut up, Dickhead. Let a man grieve.”

“Grieve? Grieve?” Jeff asks rhetorically. “Mate this is an opportunity for a new start. Upwards and onwards. The sky’s the limit. A good-looking bloke like you isn’t going to be single for long; not around here.”

Sully looks like he’s going to throw up.

“Jeff, shut the hell up,” Sully screams. He jumps to his feet and starts kicking the box lying in front of him. The sound of his foot pounding the box reverberates from all four walls. Jeff leaps up and grabs his friend in a bear-hug.

“It’s okay, Sully. It’s okay,” Jeff whispers in his ear. “It’s all going to be okay.” Jeff’s warm breath dances on the sobbing Sully’s neck. It really is her loss, Jeff thinks.

“What the hell are you two idiots doing?” demands a gruff angry voice from behind them.

Jeff lets go of Sully; spinning around to face the direction the voice is coming from. “Nothing. Nothing, Sir,” Jeff stutters. “Sully just got some bad news. His wife wants a divorce. She thinks he is… distant,” Jeff says, finally realising what the word means.

“Of course he is distant, you fucking knucklehead,” the gruff voice says, more amused than angry now. “Just get back to work. If I catch either of you slacking off again I will write you both up. But I guess that isn’t going to make much difference to two idiots serving life sentences.”