Going up floor by floor by the elevator slowly, the food was about to arrive, generating pleasure to the smell of everyone in the whole building. The delivery guy finally knocked the door and Ruf almost bumped into it.
“That'll be $10.25, sir,” said the pizza guy.
“What? There's no way this is my order,” Ruf replied, putting his wallet away.
“You ordered it with extra cheese and peperonni, sir,” the blushing guy commented.
Ruf checked his pockets, while trying to remember if Helena wasn't on a diet.
“Hm... there seems to have been a mistake, Mr. Ruf. It wasn't the correct order, but the location was. Yeah, that's funny, it says 123 Palm Street here,” the delivery man confessed.
That was it. Rud stopped blinking and looking nervously for miraculous money in his private parts. It even felt like his heart had stopped beating. He couldn't believe it.
Such a revelation left Rud embarrassed: he was preparing his anniversary dinner in his work office!
After listening several times to the hollow voice of the worried deliveryman, Rud closed the door and marched hopelessly towards the windows of his office, soon contemplating the reflection of his misery between the night and rain. The business of journalism had opened every door but love.
“Sweetheart... I think I've ruined our anniversary,” Ruf lamented in call after a long sigh.
“It's always like that, Ruf! You don't have time for me. Your priorities are elsewhere,” Helena shouted back.
“If only you knew all the details that I...”
“I don't care. I think you care so little about me that you even forgot my birthday yesterday, too,” Helena cried before hanging up.
That led to an earthquake in Ruf's being. His body shook until he collapsed and lay sprawled on the floor like a Jenga tower.
It was only hours later that some of Ruf's colleagues showed up at his office to take him to the nearest medical center.
Fortunately, it was only a fainting spell that lasted longer than usual.
Once he returned home, Ruf frantically searched for Helena, but the place was empty. Their house, the one they had bought together in the beginning, was a true reflection of their relationship. Barely shadows of a love, now as thin as the branches of a tree.
It didn't matter that Ruf called her hundreds of times, the result was the same: the answering phone.
Frustrated and anxious, the young businessman grabbed his umbrella and hurriedly walked in the pouring rain to the restaurant Lizzoti five blocks from the house.
This restaurant was like home to Ruf. Not only because he loved what his chef friends cooked for him, but also because he found calm there. But not exactly in the food.
“Merith, I couldn't stand to see you anymore,” Ruf said quickly before kissing his lover hastily.
Lizzoti was the haven of infidelity, like every Friday night. There was something between the expensive perfumes and the rare musical guests that made the restaurant an unkown place to most people.
“Look at you, Ruf, you've loved many women, but none have filled you,” Merith declared, wobbling his wine glass.
“The serenity of your words is my comfort, my love,” whispered Ruf.
“You always provide me with first-rate dishes, but I no longer want to be your second best,” Merith added with a naughty look.
This confession ignited a flame in Ruf that danced in his body as a newly divorced man and transformed into the strength needed to direct a thousand caresses to the woman-shaped monument that accompanied him.
This unexpected show in Lizzoti did not go unnoticed, and from the shadows of the far corner of the place, Helena emerged with a frown and a lava-red face.
“I'll go to prison today, but calm from finally beating you up, you lout,” Helena shouted in anger.
Ruf could not stand idly by and began to defend his lover. His wife was already a completely transformed beast at the sight of this.
So the ruckus went on for a couple of minutes until a shot rang out inside Lizzoti.
“Not another finger on my darling, Helena,” said a man as tall and wide as a refrigerator coming out of the bathroom.
“Derek, I know you don't like this for your restaurant...” said Ruf before being interrupted.
“I don't care about the restaurant, it's worth more to my girlfriend Helena,” declared the big man still holding the gun in his hands.
“Your what?” asked Ruf pale.
“You idiot! You're an idiot, Derek. And you too Merith, what has just happened? I was about to finish the plan to inherit another apartment,” Helena sentenced before running off towards the main entrance.
Before Helena could escape, however, the Brooklyn police arrived on the scene, and apprehended her. But she didn't go alone. She was accompanied by Ruf, Merith and Derek in the patrol car.
A night together, the four of them in a cell. What a date! What a way to explore open relationships, some would say.
Th next day, when it was time to testify, Rud came to learn that Derek, Merith and Helena were a trio of swindlers whose modus operandi consisted of luring wealthy young men and then inheriting property and marital pensions by putting on an act of revealing infidelity as they tried to do with Ruf.
They did it about ten times until Ruf's case, which failed because both Helena and Merith had really fallen in love with Ruf, but Helena was Derek's beloved girlfriend.
A week after the events, Ruf Casforth would publish an article in his Morning Voice newspaper entitled: “Who still believes in love?” for which he was interviewed ad nauseam in many cities in the United States and found, after a while, a colleague with whom he shared ideas and love without limits (no scams involved).
