Please forgive any errors; I'm typing this with a shaking hand and quivering thumb.

Despite my tender years, I've been through more hardship than most guys my age.

I've witnessed atrocities, endured many hardships and much pain. But yet I've only just experienced the greatest torture of all: watching the woman I love, my beautiful young wife, passionately embracing another guy.

I'm standing on a street corner being lashed by cold city rain. My only reason to shelter is to protect my cell while I type.

His handsome, swarthy features keep flashing before my eyes, tormenting me. His face, it was actually nuzzling into the nape of Tan's neck.

A sudden shock of anger winds me. The nape of her neck, that's my place, NOT HIS!

My anger is shoved aside by a jolt of jealousy. His face flashes before me again: golden, angular, and topped by a thick main of shiny black hair. I guess I can't compete with his brand of exotic masculinity. She fell for his charms on her first day. I guess my regular guy ordinary paled in his comparison.

My jealousy suddenly lifts, and in its place drops hurt. At first it's a dull ache, which grows into a physical thumping pain in the pit of my stomach. The hurt is made worse by the fact that she's not answering her cell!

While I walk the streets in the rain, my pain ebbs away and anger returns. I shelter in a shop front and think: why would she turn off her cell? Was she that seduced on her first day that she was compelled to jeopardies everything? I don't have the answers; just a crushing realization that she's not just let me down, but let all of us down. The family we have nurtured through so much adversity.

Anger, hurt, jealousy, these three unwanted feelings are suddenly swamped by a tsunami of sadness that sweeps over me.

I can feel myself falling into my darkness. Only Tan knew how to catch me before I hit the bottom. But she's not here to catch me now.

The image of her embracing him haunts me.

At least nobody knows I'm crying, because I'm walking the streets in the rain.

When the rain increases, I shelter.

I can't even blame The Sinister. Tan only reported one small incident, a conversation about the imps. Tony swiftly declared it innocent. Maybe this is a symptom of her Post Traumatic Disorder; it's making her act out of character. Excuse me while I call her cell, again.

Nothing.

Not even voicemail.

My mind's jumping all over the place. But a moment of clarity lifts me a little: Tan wouldn't do this to me. I'm being stupid. I gotta go back to that office and work this out.

I step back into the rain. But I've barely travelled a few steps when my darkness descends again: I saw what I saw. And to hammer the fact home, the image of their embrace returns to taunt me.

Taking shelter again, I curse the fact that we agreed not to read each other's chapters. We each have secret passwords; perhaps Tan had secrets she never shared with me: longings and lusts she hid from me. Perhaps you readers know her more intimately than I do? Maybe she's confided in you, bared her soul, and told you the truth. And like most fools, I'm the last to know.

My anger returns; why should I go back to that office? The responsibility is on Tan to contact me.

Man up Kade, I tell myself. I've re-read this back and I'm sounding like a whiney loser, wallowing in self-pity. That's not what I am; I'm stronger than that.

If Tan can act out of character, then so can I. I have Post Traumatic Disorder, too.

I'm going to go do something I've never done before, something I thought I'd never, ever do. I'm gonna go get a beer!

Yeah, I'm a young guy, I'm gonna go get myself a beer. I deserve one. Get myself outta this rain and into a bar, or pub as the Brit dudes call them.

This one will do. Bathroom first, to dry off. I give myself a blow-dry under the hand dryer and checking myself in the mirror, I think I look good. Not dark, Latino good, more all American boy, good. Which is no bad thing. Unless you're a guy who's in love with a girl, who's crushing on the dark Latino look.

Suicide! That thought just jumped into my head. Not that I'd ever contemplate it, no, but I had a sudden understanding of why someone would.

STOP IT KADE! I avoid descending into my darkness by ordering a pint of British beer and sitting on a tall stool at the bar.

Here goes, my first taste of beer...

... Oh My Gross!

It's truly gross. It's almost warm and bitter tasting. When I told the bar tender he laughed and said, "It's supposed to be room temperature and it tastes bitter because it's called bitter," he said, pointing to the label: John Smith's Bitter.

I take another glug, it's still gross, but this time a warm feeling floats through me.

The third glug makes me feel kinda cozy.

When I take another mouthful of bitter beer, a soft, soothing sadness sweeps over me. It's a melancholy I've never felt before. It makes me yearn for The Sinister to come back into my life, because that would mean Tan was still with me, with us. We always said we'd experience a beer together. But no, I'm losing my alcohol virginity alone.

The Sadness has replaced The Sinister.

Never though I'd yearn for  The Sinister to return.

I take another mouthful and stare into my glass. The bitter beer has almost half gone.

"Turn that frown upside down," says a girl. When I look at her my vision's gone slightly blurry, but I still see her beautiful smile.

She's gone to the bathroom now, but she bought me another bitter beer before she went. I thought the protocol was that the guy bought the girl an alcoholic drink, but she insisted. She's drinking white wine.

She said she was going to powder her nose, whatever that means. I don't understand English pub language.

"You've done well mate," said the bartender. When I asked him what I've done well, he said, "You've pulled a lovely looking lady, and she bought you a pint, that takes special skills, mate."

I like that he called me mate; I've got a mate, that's great. And I've impressed my mate. I'm The Dude that pulled a Lady Date!

I take more bitter beer. I'm feeling fuzzy, good fuzzy. Forget the fuzzy, Kade's feeling fine. Scrap that, I'm feeling GREAT!

She's coming back now; I better put down my cell. I'll be back during my bathroom breaks.

I'm in the bathroom.

I miss Tan, my Tanya. Why won't she take my calls? Do you think she's kinda gone off me, like we go off food when another taste takes over? Maybe she wanted to taste another man? Am I drink, is this drunk? I said drink, that's kinda funny.

The lady who keeps buying me bitter beer has gone to the bathroom again.

I tried calling Tan. Nothing.

Tan must have had an awesome first day; I wish she were here, sharing it with me. Shoot, I'm gonna go get my wife, go right back to that office and bring her home. We'll draw a line under this mess. We both have a responsibility; we're a family. And we have to uncover The Sinister together.

The Lady is coming back. I have to squint my eyes and focus.

I ask her, "Why are you wearing that hood?"

"It's raining outside and we're leaving."

"No, I gotta go get my wife."

"You're drunk, I'll take you back to mine to sleep it off. And stop texting and talking into that phone. Switch it off, it's rude. Are you recording me?"

The bartender is laughing at me, "Don't mess with The Lady, mate. Switch your phone off and get out of here."

I'm in the bathroom, feeling nauseous, unsteady. Maybe I should go sleep like the lady said. Then go get Tan.

Feeling real weird.

Why are my legs quivering?

I lock the cubicle door and curl up on the toilet floor. There's no way I'm switching my cell off like the lady said.

But I will have a little sleep, right here, in the bathroom...