I was 40 years old, married with two kids and making lots of money. Was I happy? No.
My marriage had become almost void of sex. No matter how much money I made it was never good enough for my wife of almost 15 years. Denise was a very insecure person and always had the need to show off, from throwing expensive parties for the neighbors to demanding a new car every two years.
Work was a relief from all this. I had recently been named Executive Vice President for a Wall Street firm, taking over the position from a woman named Angela, who hired me and taught me everything I know about running a financial services firm.
With this promotion, I inherited Helen, who was Executive Assistant for Angela and now worked for me. She became my confidant, my eyes and ears and a shoulder to cry on.
Helen was 26, born in Athens, Greece and came to America with her family when she was two. She was a curvy woman, 5 feet, 4 inches tall, with black, wavy hair and a very large chest. Angela taught her how to be a top notch assistant, and how to dress. Like Angela, Helen always wore business suits, and her nails and hair were kept In perfect condition.
Her family owned a 24 hour Greek diner in Queens, the kind that serves breakfast all day and sells take out coffee in those blue paper cups that have drawings of Greek gods on them. Her entire family worked there, and Helen spent most summers and any free time she had in the family business.
Sometimes, I would stop by on my way to the airport, or just when I wanted a great meal. When Helen's farther, Nikos, found out who I was, he said I would never have to pay because I helped his daughter. He considered me to be part of the family, but I turned down numerous invitations to their home because I thought he was trying to play matchmaker to me and Helen, who I assumed told her parents about my problems at home.
I did attend the weddings of this three sons, Nick, Frank, and George, and they were loud, fun affairs, right out of the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding.
Helen was definitely a professional, but outside the office, she had a wild side. She was not shy about her Queens accent even though she worked next to many Ivy League graduates. I understood her, being from Queens myself. However, my mother was an English teacher in the New York City public school system for over 30 years. She put me through speech classes and diction lessons in order to make me loose some of that accent.
Helen had no such training. She pronounced R's as A's and A's as R's. For example when she said never it came out as neva. The area in Queens called Jamaica was Ja-make-er. And of course forget about it was one long word: fugeta-bout-it.
In exchange for her understanding ear. I was treated to stories about her weekend exploits at the local watering holes. Friday nights were spent partying with her fellow assistants and back office workers, while Saturday she stayed in Queens and hung out with her neighborhood friends. Sometimes, I had to hear about her encounters with her lover of the week.
"He was a great fuck, but a real asshole," is how she usually summarized these experiences.
Our relationship was completely professional, although as I drifted further and further from my wife, I would wonder what a life with Helen would be like. I think sometimes Helen felt the same way. After meetings or a conversation ended, she would linger in my office, hoping to spend more time with me but then quickly realizing there was work to do.
She got married at 19 and divorced by 23. She told me her husband was so addicted to porn that he even had to watch it when they had sex. He wanted to imitate everything he saw on the TV. If Helen didn't play the part well enough there would be hell to pay. She had made mistakes in her life, but now was on the right track, thanks to the mentoring she received from Angela, then myself.
My wife would harass me with phone calls numerous times a day, even though I told her only call me in the most extreme emergency. She could not make a decision on her own. If the plumber came and there was more work then we originally thought, she had to call me with unnecessary questions. When I refused to answer my cell phone, Helen would run interference for me when my wife would call me in the office.
I found myself working longer hours just to avoid the horrors of going home. Although I loved my 10 and 8 year old daughters, Gina and Christina, some nights I could not handle being under the same roof as Denise. Her negative attitude was destroying me.
So this is the routine I fell into:
After working way past 5 pm, my sanctuary would be an athletic club located not far from my office which was a popular destination for Wall St. professionals.
Open 24 hours, It had a fully equipped gym, an Olympic sized swimming pool, catering facilities, and even hotel rooms. These rooms were for those who wanted to throw a party with an open bar and not have to worry about their guests driving home. The club hotel also came in handy for bad weather days and for the times we were being audited by the Government and working 14 hour days.
