What do you call that?

She was desperate.

She was my friend and confided in me.
Could not find work HERE, not one she liked or hoped for.
I shared her agony, the doors that would not open,
Those that opened a crack to be immediately shut
and those that hid monsters.

And then she found the perfect position, but…
It was not here and there were conditions. She had to be married.
And she asked: would you? Please? I could not say no to these eyes welling wet,
And I said yes.

Just to remember (far too late) that I was already married.
What to do? Can I say no? Not me, not ever going back on my word,
I had to.

It was a small (4 in all) wedding that ended with hesitant peck on the cheek.
And I thought it was over and gone. But.. What about the interview? What interview? And she told me that we have to go THERE to be questioned together, or else.. No job.

There I was, on the plane, on my way to Singapore (never been there) drinking (a lot) trying to mitigate my rising panic. Actually.. It went well, flight, hotel, an office, few questions, a smile and a nod, she got the job, a plane (more scotch) and I was back.

Now it hit me hard. What have I done? I am a criminal! Bigamy? Totally opposed to it! What will my wife say?!?
————

Wife (yes the first one) and me were walking down the boulevard, I said “don’t drink the water here they taste funny” and “what am I going to do? I will be arrested” and she said “who is going to talk?”

And that was that.
————

But it was not over,
Almost a year later I got a call,
She found a guy and was getting married,
And I was invited! Would I? And I said yes.

It was a great wedding, the groom, elderly and kind and we immediately hit it of into a great friendship. I was invited to come again, and in a year time came again to visit.
They were happy together and I was happy in their company.
It became a regular thing to visit every year.

But.. He got ill, old and frail, fading.. I did my best to cheer him up,
I will never forget the time I snuck to seat on his bed wearing a turban,
He actually screamed! And then we laughed hysterically,
Yes it was fun, and I was visiting every six month,
And.. He died.

I promised her that I will come again.
In a year time I got a phone call. It was a solicitor, she died.
They found our marriage documents among her papers;
I was asked to come over to take care of the inheritance,
Will I? I said I would.
————

In my seat, on the runway, holding tight to my glass.

Was it really a solicitor? Could it be the police? A trap?
I was married twice and so was she, what do you call that?
Bigamy? Bigamy squared, post bigamy?

I needed comforting, I was lifting the glass towards my lips..

I woke up

– Yehoshua Aryeh Sapir

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