Manic Meltdown Part 2

The train to Crazy Town had pulled away from the station, chugged hard to make it up a wickedly steep hill and was now about to barrel down the reverse side of the incline with the brakes completely disengaged.  In short...it was about to get ugly.

Or...to be accurate...uglier.  Of all the times I lost it over the first year after DDay and as many of you are well aware, there is a plethora, a multitude, a vast quantity of incidents that involved me taking leave of my common sense, this is the meltdown that I regret the most.  You'd think I would care more about the meltdowns that impacted my loved ones, my family, my friends.  I do have remorse about most of those, too, but this day, in Richard's office, holds the gold medal for meltdowns and still causes me extreme discomfort as I describe it.

Eventually I'll share an additional meltdown moment in Jaymie's parents' church and you might wonder why this visit to Crazy Town penetrated my psyche deeper than that.  Here's why, in the church, I experienced the deepest of debilitating emotions, sorrow, heartbreak and anguish.  The pain was mine to bear.  This day, in Richard's office, I became a real threat to him, much more so than any other day.  I wanted to hurt him.  I wanted to leave permanent wounds, scars he would see everyday for the rest of his miserable, lying, cheating, adulterous life.  Not physical injury, psychological damage and public humiliation that would haunt him forever.
Come on....you know you've imagined ways you could 'out' your cheating spouse!  Billboards declaring him to be an adulterous pig or fliers with his scum-bag mug and a thorough description of the revolting details of his philandering escapades on every car windshield at the local mall on Black Friday!
Not to worry...those fantasies are good!  Acting out on them...not so much.

As loud as I had been in Richard's office, I was able to amp it up a notch.  He had closed the door, so I felt the need to bring my "A" game in the vocal decibels department.  He asked me to please keep my voice down.  Yeah, that wasn't gonna happen.
"Why? Everyone here already knows about Jaymie, right?  They witnessed your disgusting behavior first hand!  Who cares if they know I'm pissed?  How could they NOT know?"
"They don't know.  Only Michelle knows.  These are my employees.  Please."
"Are you really that stupid?  You think they didn't know?  Jaymie spent more time in this office than all of your staff combined!  You really think they don't know?  You're still lying!  Of course you know they know!  How could they miss you chasing after Jaymie?  They know alright.  But, just to be sure...I'll go ask."

Before Richard could even begin to process what I was about to do, I dashed out the door, all the way back down the hall, past Michelle's office, with the door still closed, past the front desk and the wide-eyed receptionist, straight into Sharon's office.  Sharon is the attorney that leases office space from Richard. and Jaymie's former employer.  She hired Jaymie on Richard's recommendation.  Why else would she hire a coffee shop waitress as her legal assistant?
Sharon was sitting behind her desk.  She looked up with a deer in the headlights expression and I blurted out my inquiry.  "Did you know Richard was fucking Jaymie?"  Her mouth dropped open so wide a bird could have flown in and set up house, and all she was capable of was a shake of her head and a barely audible, breathy no.

I didn't buy it.   I spun on my heels and marched toward the front desk.  The receptionist had been joined by one of the firm's attorneys, Lori.  Safety in numbers, I guess.  I barely paused but I looked right at Lori and in a voice that probably sounded to her like evil personified, I hissed, "It's on.  I'm gonna find out who knew what!"  Then, back past Michelle's office and into Richard's.  I slammed the door behind me and announced my intention.  "As soon as that client leaves, we're gonna have a little staff meeting.  We need to clarify who knew you were fucking Jaymie.  I want answers! They better not lie to me just to cover your ass!"

To Richard's credit, he didn't say we couldn't call such a meeting to order.  He merely suggested we sit for a minute and decide how it should be handled.  I was in no mood for sitting.  Pacing, stomping and flailing, that was working for me.  On the credenza, behind his desk, was the digital frame I gave him for Christmas, flashing photos of our family in 2010.  I gave him that to remind him of what he nearly lost, could still lose, forever.  I lunged for it, tried to yank it from it's cord. "Please don't take that!  I love it. I need it."
He was begging, almost crying.  It wouldn't pull out of the wall so I dropped it and grabbed an 8x10 photo of us and the kids skiing in Mammoth.  I shook the picture at him. "You don't deserve us!  We are too good for you!"
With the picture in my hand, I dashed back into the hall and to my astonishment...the place was empty.
All the staff had gone.  Sharon was missing, too.

"Where are they?  Where'd they go?  Did you tell them to leave?"
"I didn't have to tell them to go.  They couldn't get out fast enough.  They emailed me to say they were leaving and I was to let them know when you were gone."
"You get them back here!  Just lie to them like you lied to me!  Tell them I'm gone.  Do it, damn it!"

We went back and forth for nearly an hour.  It was obvious they weren't coming back. My throat was raw from yelling.  As my frustration mounted, the pounding in my head became excruciating!  Finally, I couldn't take anymore.  I was spent.  Anger of that magnitude is crippling.  I gabbed the car keys and made for the elevator.  I'd like to think I had a brief flash of sanity, but really, it had more to do with the level of anger I was able to maintain.  My rage tank was running on fumes.  I was close to collapse.  Time to go.

Down to the parking level with Richard right behind.  I burst into tears, wailing, "How could you do this?  You ruined everything!  You killed us!  You killed us!"  And, with that declaration, I hurled the framed photo to the ground.  The glass shattered on impact and flew into the air.
As I threw myself into the driver's seat, I heard Richard pleading with me to be careful while repeating his mantra of "I'm so sorry."
He began to pick up glass but he understood I wasn't waiting for him to move and I was leaving NOW.  He got the hell out of my way and watched as I did my best imitation of an Indy car driver burning rubber around the corner and out of the garage.
Whew.  It wasn't even noon yet.  This would be a very long day.