Even she was unprepared for the number of people waiting in line for the courthouse to open on Monday. Iris was certain that there must be all manner of business that was handled in the building, yet when she looked around the wide, airy waiting room she realized that the majority of people there had come for the same purpose as she and the white boy.
Everyone had rushed to take a number from the dispenser. The white boy was quick, Iris had to give him that. He came back to where she sat, fanning a ticket marked with the number four. He was so pleased that Iris almost expected him to beat his chest in triumph. She would have given him a hard time about it except she was just as anxious as he was to undo this chapter of their lives.
Nearly 2 hours passed before the number 4 was called. The clerk handling handling their petition issued them a set of instructions in a voice that reeked of boredom. He briefly went over the form, pointing out the section that was vital toward gaining the judge's approval. The white boy indicated their understanding and they took the forms and left.
"The library's not far from here," he said. He climbed into the passenger seat of Iris' car. She had driven them to the courthouse that morning. "Unless you'd rather we fill out these forms at your house."
Iris waved vaguely. "The library is fine," she said. She was focused on the traffic all around them. "You ain't getting in my house again." As far as she was concerned, Iris had already put an end to his part in her life.
She ignored the irritation she felt at the white boy's reaction to the librarian's recognition of her, as though he was surprised to discover she could read. Iris was a frequent visitor to the library. Her art was not just a hobby. She took every opportunity to study other artists and techniques.
She led them to the study carrels near the rear of the library. At least one or two were usually available at this time of day. Most people in the library near lunch chose the bright, glass-enclosed reading room in which to pass the hour.
By now Iris wasn't surprised when the white boy chose the carrel right next to hers. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she would be rid of his skinny ass soon. Several times she felt him try to look around the wooden divider that separated the two desks. Iris just concentrated on filling out the petition and making sure she did not skip any of the blanks.
She saved the most important question for last. Iris painstakingly took the time to print her answer to the annulment form's declaration question. She didn't want anything to jeopardize the annulment she and the white boy were seeking.
"Do you mind if I ask what you have written so far?"
Speak of the devil. The white boy tried to glance over at the form in front of Iris. "I wrote that I deserve an annulment for letting you fuck me up the ass two times in one night."
The white boy began to choke. Iris ignored him and kept on writing. "You can't put that," he managed to say. "Wait! Did I?"
Iris just rolled her eyes. "Dumbass." She added a couple more lines to her statement and sat back. "Here. You can drop this off at the courthouse. I got something to do." The last sight Iris had of her soon to be ex-husband was of him staring in disbelief as she walked out of the library and out of his life.
It was an overcast day but Iris just rolled her car windows down and sang off-tune along to the music on the pop channel of her satellite radio. She didn't normally tune into that station, but the light, upbeat music matched her sudden mood. 'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play, and the haters going to hate, hate, hate, hate, hate...
This strange chapter of her life was almost over. She and the white boy had taken the necessary steps to erase their unwanted marriage. All that was left for them was the official paperwork.
There was one more thing that had to be taken care of before Iris could fully press the reset button on her life. She traveled to the other side of town, just outside the business district, and headed straight for the airport. It was about 2 p.m., a time when there was a lull in the comings and goings of travelers through the airport.
Iris made her way to the area where all the airport-sponsored limo drivers hung out while awaiting a pick-up. The drivers stood together in small groups, chatting idly. "Where is he?" Iris yelled as soon as she climbed out of the car. Her loud outcry silenced most of the nearby conversation. "Where is Craig Monroe?"
The male limo drivers all shrugged their shoulders or murmured some tale about where Craig had gone. Iris knew that they were a close group. Craig had laughed about the way the men covered for one another regarding the women in their lives. "Can I help you, miss?" The dispatcher had come up behind Iris. According to Craig, he was a retired police detective hired by airport management to keep the drivers on the straight and narrow. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"Hell yeah you can help me." Iris placed her hands on her ample hips. "I'm looking for Craig Monroe! I know he work here."
"Mr. Monroe is out on a passenger delivery," the dispatcher replied. "If you would like to leave a message, I'll be certain he gets it."
"Oh, I'll leave Mr. Monroe a message, alright. You tell Craig I went to the police. They looking for him." The other drivers abandoned all pretense of privacy and strained to hear Iris' conversation.
"The police?"
"Yeah. That muhfucka Craig been screwing my dog in the ass while I been at work! I caught the nasty bastard on a hidden camera I left on the bookcase." For emphasis she waved her cell phone around. Iris definitely had the attention of every one there. Out of the corner of her eye she could see fingers flying as the female limo drivers raced to share the current happenings on social media. "I wondered why my little puppy run and hide any time Craig around. Poor thing can't hardly shit right cause of that nasty bastard."
Iris lowered her voice and wagged her finger in the dispatcher's face. "I'ma tell everybody I know what kinda twisted shit you got driving them around!"
"Miss, if I could just get a statement-"
"I done said all I needed to say, Mister Man. Now I'ma let the police handle it." Iris stomped back to her car and climbed inside. She ignored the dispatcher's attempt to get her to stay. She started up her car and, almost running over the dispatcher's foot, sped away.
Iris grinned as she imagined Craig's unsuspecting return to the job. The dispatcher's horror was written all over his face while Iris was telling her story. She had met people like him. Rather than being sorry, he would play it safe and let Craig go. Which would kill her ex-boyfriend. He had worked for the airport service since right after high school, wheno it was only a couple of passenger vans.
This little bit of revenge on her part didn't begin to make up for what he had done to her. But it was a start. Let the muhfucka see how it felt to have his life fucked with.
'Oh the players gonna play, play, play, play, play, and the haters going to hate, hate, hate, hate, hate...
