And One Last Thing... by Molly Harper

having problems, but I never thought you’d be dumb enough to pull a stunt like that e-mail. Why didn’t you come to me so we could try to work things out? How could you be so stupid? Nothing can fix this. Do you understand? My parents are never going to forgive you, never. I thought my father was going to have a heart attack.
    “What did you expect to happen, Lacey? That you’d write this horrible, slanderous piece of garbage and send it out to all of our friends and family and I’d suddenly want you again? And did you think about what you were doing to the business? Or Beebee? She had to go home to Natchez to visit her mother, she was so upset. She’s humiliated.”
    “One, it’s not slander if it’s true. And, pardon me, but Beebee has been humiliated? I’m supposed to worry about Beebee? How about me? How am I supposed to feel knowing that the entire area code knew that you were cheating on me? That you didn’t at least have the respect to try to hide what you were doing… from anyone besides me? I mean, really, what did you expect from me, Mike?”
    I could hear him flipping channels on the TV. He had already checked out of the conversation. I was talking about the destruction of our marriage and I still couldn’t hold his attention. “Come on, Lacey, you had to know something was going on with me and Beebee. I thought we had an arrangement. We were having problems, but I thought we had some sort of unspoken agreement to keep up appearances. I thought you knew to hold up your end of the bargain.”
    “My end of the bargain?” I exploded. “I assumed my husband was a decent human being who wouldn’t do that to the woman he was married to. If I missed some obvious signs, it was because I wanted to believe you respected me enough to honor our marriage vows … or at least not crap all over them. And if you thought we had some sort of unspoken arrangement, that’s because you didn’t have the balls to ask me about it and find out for yourself.”
    “You knew I wasn’t happy. I mean, I was never home, [acey. I was always working. And when I was home -”
    “When you were home, you weren’t home,” I told him. “You were talking about work, making calls for work, getting ready for meetings related to work, thinking about work, or hell, probably thinking about Beebee. I’m not saying I was any happier. But at least I didn’t run off and sleep with some Cheetos-colored bimbo.”
    “You don’t talk about her that way,” he growled. “Beebee cares about me. She listens. She cares about what I want, what I need.”
    “Asking whether you want to be on top or bottom doesn’t mean she cares about you. Beebee’s looking for a meal ticket, Mike. She wants an easier life and, fortunately for her, you are more gullible than she could ever have imagined.”
    “She wants to see me sail my boat, Lacey. She even came up with a name for it. The Liquid Asset.”
    “You don’t have a boat, Mike.”
    “Yeah, but she wants me to finish it,” he said petulantly. “She wants me to have a hobby, to relax. All you ever want me to do is work.”
    “When the hell have I ever said that?” I demanded. “When have I ever insisted that you work more? If you felt pressured because we had to pay for the bass boat, which you wanted. Or the condo, which you wanted. Or the truck or the jet Skis or the club memberships - well, then maybe I could have gotten a job to help out. But you didn’t want me to work. It was embarrassing, you said. My job was to keep you going, to build this perfect, stupid life for you. That was what you wanted. Don’t blame me because you changed your mind!”
    “Beebee’s what I want, Lacey. And I’m not being fair to her. I can’t keep making promises to her that I can’t keep.”
    “Oh, you’re not divorcing me because of Beebee. You’re divorcing me because I managed to shame you as much as you’ve shamed me.”
    “You won’t last five minutes without me, you know,” he