Everything Was Going So Well

Everything Was Going So Well
By
Kim Bellard
Copyright Kim Bellard 2003 All Rights Reserved
Chapter 1 I almost killed someone on the way home from work. I was driving down the road, going up a slight hill in my car. There was a light rain falling, and the woman jogger took me by surprise when she appeared over the crest of the hill. Thats not really a good excuse in itself. It was, after all, still light out, and the roads werent really too busy. I should have had plenty of opportunity to see her trotting along the side of the road towards me, dressed in her sports bra and jogging shorts. Truth be told, I was on my mobile phone, leaving voice mails to coworkers about things that had occurred to me since leaving just minutes ago. Its a bad habit, I know, but it saves so much time that I have fallen into it without many second thoughts as to the safety of it. I took my eyes away from the road just for a moment, cradling the phone against my shoulder and continuing to talk while I ejected one CD and replaced it with another. Then I looked up and oh, shit! there she was, looking up at me in surprise. My car had somehow drifted into the bike lane that she was running in, and the look on her face was part terror and part pure anger. I cursed my surprise out loud, dropped the phone and immediately swerved away from her, causing the car in the lane next to mine to also swerve. Its driver then blasted me with his horn. I caught a glimpse of him, an angry man of about my age as his car roared past by me, shaking his fist and mouthing something nasty to me as he passed. I reduced my speed and checked the rearview mirror for any damage I might have caused, but was relieved to neither see the jogger lying on the road nor any wrecked cars. The woman was continuing to run down the road, no doubt adding my stupidity to the catalog of reckless drivers she had encountered over the years. I really need to stop talking on the phone in the car, I told myself out loud. Then I picked up the phone and canceled the message that had inadvertently captured my expletive, thinking how surprised the recipient would have been had been to hear that.
The rest of my trip home was more sedate. I drove like I had a dead body in my trunk and a cop on my ass, keeping my speed at or below the speed limit, stopping fully at stop signs, and not even risking going through any yellow lights. It wasnt until Id safely pulled into my garage and turned off the car that what had almost happened really struck me. If my car had drifted a yard or two closer to that jogger, or if the other car had come by a half second sooner either one could have resulted in disaster. I could have been sitting at the accident site right now, trying to explain to a skeptical police officer what had happened. It could have been manslaughter. They could have arrested me and thrown me in jail, and Id have deserved it. I could imagine those hardened criminals seeing someone like me amidst them; hey, Ive seen Oz, and I know the terrors that the prospect of going to prison has for safe middle class guys like me. Rape, beatings, humiliations of every sort. It made me shudder just thinking about it. Even if I didnt go to jail, what would have the rest of my life have been like, knowing Id killed someone because I was changing a stupid CD, one I wasnt really going to pay much attention to anyway? In the blink of an eye my life would have been irrevocably changed, ruined beyond my comprehension. Our lives are so fragile; a single moment can shatter everything, change your life in ways you could never have predicted. I sat in the car counting my blessings. My house was my refuge, my castle. My wife and I bought it when our daughter Bridget was five, and wed lived happily here for the past twenty years. We picked it because we liked the house, we loved the neighborhood, and we saw the potential the house had. Over the years, the house truly had become our home, as we changed it and as we changed ourselves. We put in renovations and additions, my wife constantly fine-tuned the decoration, and she oversaw my efforts in landscaping the lawn and flower garden into something that was the envy of our neighbors. Id contributed a lot to the physical appearance of the house, from obvious efforts like the deck to smaller touches like bookcases and furniture that Id built myself. The house had become part of our family, reflecting us so much than it was almost hard to believe anyone else had ever lived there before us or might after us.
I never wanted to be rich or famous. I wasnt a big risk taker. When everyone else was dumping their money into tech stocks in the mid nineties and thinking they were going to be rich, I kept my portfolio balanced, and ended up glad of it when they came tumbling back down. I wasnt looking for a big score. All I ever wanted was right here my family safe in the home wed created. Id had opportunities to move, but I guess I wasnt that ambitious. I wasnt ever going to do anything that might disrupt my life here. My life was a series of days pretty much like the last, and that was OK with me. I was counting on that sameness until I could retire and shift into another life of more leisurely sameness. Some might call it boring; I called it contentedness. I had all I wanted; I was happy. Today I had almost put all that at risk through my carelessness, and it made my heart race just to imagine my life falling apart. I shuddered again. I waited until I finally calmed down, and once I had I smiled in relief. I got out of the car and went into the house. Im home, I shouted out as I came in the house, feeling the relief of it hit me. Im up here, my wife said, speaking from our bedroom. Im getting ready. I walked upstairs and found her sitting in front of her vanity in the bedroom, brushing her hair calmly. I stopped at the door and admired my wife. She was dressed for the evening a simple dress that nevertheless made her look as elegant as a movie star and looked at me in the mirror. Seeing her after having been away always made my knees a little weak, and, more often than not, brought a smile to my face. This was one of those times. Hello, good looking. She gave me a smile that included a knowing smirk and continued to brush her hair.
I stepped behind her and nuzzled against the crook of her neck, kissing the delicate flesh tenderly. I loved the softness of her skin, and the feel of her against me. I made appreciative noises as I kissed her. Not now, Roger, she told me tolerantly. Im getting ready. I stepped back. I forgot youve got something tonight, I admitted. I sat on the footstool and watched her put on a necklace. Id bought her that necklace as a birthday present a couple of years ago, and loved how the rich red pendant sat on her chest. We celebrated our twenty-fifth anniversary last year and I still get a thrill when I see her. Shes aged well, this beautiful wife of mine. Oh, shes filled out a little since I first met her, and her face has some lines that it didnt used to have. She was once a slip of a girl with a fresh face full of optimism. Even now, though, shes still a very handsome woman and I mean that in the most feminine use of that word and has blossomed from that mere girl into a highly desirable woman. One could imagine Kathryn as a queen, full of dignity and that special charisma that marked her as special. She was European that way, her age just making her sexier. She still turned heads at our three-times-a-week tennis matches at the club, and not just from guys my age. What is it again? I asked, racking my brain to remember what she undoubtedly had told me about it at some point in the near past. I patted her back fondly but absently. She looked over at me in the mirror. I couldnt read her expression; she might have been either tolerantly amused or slightly annoyed at my not remembering. Maybe both. Its a fund-raiser. I raised an eyebrow. Which cause? Does it matter? she asked, resuming her inspection in the mirror. Kathryn ran a small foundation and these fundraisers were a constant part of her life. She and her counterparts traded appearances like politicians on the rubber chicken circuit, and
Kathryn and I had long ago decided that my presence wasnt required. She stood up and I did as well. How was your day? I thought back to the incident with the jogger, which was memorable but not really a story I wanted to share. Otherwise the day had been pretty ordinary. Fine. That was enough for her, it appeared. She leaned in for another brief kiss. Ill be late. Theres some chicken in the refrigerator, or you could order out. Dont wait up Ill be late. I ended up ordering some Chinese food, and ate it in front of the television in the family room, as I usually did on Kathryns nights out. Then I went down to my workshop to putter around. I hadnt always been handy, but somewhere along the way I had acquired a taste for it. It happened almost without my realizing it. I forget now what my first little project had been. No doubt it was just some little thing that I simply refused to pay someone for, but muddling my way through it led me to the realization that I enjoyed doing things with my hands. One thing led to another and now here I was with my little basement kingdom full of every conceivable kind of tool and multiple projects in various stages of completion. Id done things as simple as plain shelves and as complex as a rocking chair, and our house had been slowly transformed into a record of my ambitions. Around ten I heard the garage door open, and I finished up what I was doing. I came upstairs in time to see Kathryn come in from the garage. How was your thing, dear? I asked. She smiled and slipped off her heels. She looked shorter and more informal without them, although she was still otherwise all dressed up. It was the usual. Look, Im tired. I think Ill get ready for bed. Are you coming? I think Ill stay up a while. Ill see you in a little bit.
She smiled at me and touched my face tenderly, then went on up. I wasnt at all sleepy, so I sat in front of the television and tried to read a biography I had been trying to get through for a few weeks now. Upstairs I heard Kathryn doing her pre-bedtime routine in the bathroom, then move into the bedroom. I knew she would read for a few minutes, then probably drift off with her reading glasses still on her nose and the book on her chest. I often had to come up and quietly remove them before I went to bed myself. I found that I was restless. The house was awfully quiet, except for those little creaks and small noises that old houses make for no apparent reason. Its like the house is trying to talk, maybe old ghosts or old memories acting out their past in ways that dont mean anything to the current residents. I turned off the television and paused for a moment in front of one of the collages of photographs that Kathryn had made. She likes to do that rather than to have the pictures locked up in some unopened album, so her efforts are scattered throughout our house as sort of a documentary of our lives. This one was Bridget as a girl, looking so young. It was hard to imagine that shed grown up so quickly; these pictures seemed like yesterday to me. I could remember her on the swingset, or playing soccer. As much as I loved Bridget, I would have loved to have another child, but somehow it just hadnt worked out. Still, I was grateful to have had the perfect child that we had. Bridget was the best thing wed done or could have ever hoped to do. She was an example of evolution at its finest. Nature had taken the best traits from Kathryns many wonderful traits and thrown in my better qualities, and produced something unexpectedly better than anyone could have dreamed of. She was intelligent, beautiful, and most importantly -- a good person, a person that anyone would be proud to know. Theyd be lucky to call her a friend, and no one but Kathryn and I could know how inordinately fortunate we considered ourselves to have her as our daughter. We were so proud of her that it was almost embarrassing. The only flaw was that shed gotten a job in Atlanta rather than staying closer to home.
I turned out the lights, and walked around the first floor turning out the lights, so that the only illumination was from the streetlights coming through the windows. I liked to wander through my house late at night like this when it is all dark and quiet. I guess I started doing it when Bridget was little, after Id gotten up to feed her and I couldnt quite get back to sleep. I didnt have any good reason to continue it, but I found it comforting. I liked being awake when my family was asleep and I could feel I was watching over them. Now that Bridget was grown and gone I didnt really have as much reason to continue the practice, but I did anyway. Sometimes I just listened to Kathryn breath, or watched her sleep. Other times I just wandered, like tonight. I turned out the lights in the kitchen and went over to the door to the deck. On impulse, I flipped on the outdoor lights and opened the French doors. Stepping outside, I walked over to the railing and looked over our backyard. Kathryn had a small garden in the corner, and the carefully tailored flowerbeds edged our driveway. It was quiet out, just the chirping of the insects and the sounds of infrequent cars passing by a couple streets over. I breathed in the cool night air and looked up at the clear skies, full of stars. I ran my hand on the decks railing. Id built this deck. Id built it and stained it myself. My sense of home was a physical one. There were dozens of pieces of it like this that I could touch which I had made. It made it real to me, practically an organic being, changing and adapting to our needs and stage of life. I had a good life. I had a good job, a great house, and the best family anyone could ever want. I couldnt imagine being married to anyone other than Kathryn. Wed weathered a lot over the years. Wed met in college, and gotten married right after graduation. Bridget had been born less than a year later, not really giving us much time by ourselves. Things had been tight in the early years, but wed worked hard and saved where we could. I got better and better jobs, and started earning some decent money after a few years, so it wasnt money that made Kathryn get a job when Bridget got out of elementary school. Shed wanted to do something more than just stay at home. Shed
always volunteered, so it wasnt hard for her to get a job at one of the agencies shed been helping out already. One thing had led to another and now she gave out money from a small foundation that she used to have to plead for funding from. Ironic, yes? Wed been married so long that wed grown into a comfortable symbiosis of sorts. We had the division of labor pretty clearly worked out, more by gradual evolution than by any formal plan. I usually knew what shes thinking and vice versa. I know when an I dont care really means You better take me out to a nice dinner tonight, and I know when I should just leave her alone and just let her have her coffee in the morning. And I know when she looks at me with that little smile that Im still the guy for her, the young man full of hopes that she married so long ago. Id reached that point in my life where I was thinking more about holding on to what I had than trying to get more. I had everything I wanted; I just wanted to be able to keep it. I figured come fifty-five I was out; retired to my workshop. Kathryn probably would want to keep working in some capacity for longer, but I wanted to enjoy the fruits of my labor. I liked my job, I was good at it, but I wasnt going to keep doing it any longer than I needed to. It was just a job; my life here was what it was all about. I wrapped my hands around the railing just to feel the solidity of it. Smiling at my own foolishness, I went inside and got ready for bed. Kathryn had turned her light out and was sleeping quietly when I slipped in to bed. OK, so maybe Kathryn and I arent the most passionate of couples, not hanging all over each other like some young couple, but the sex was still good, when we got around to doing it. Maybe thats not quite as often as I might have liked, but you get used to things, and anyway were both usually tired at night. Mostly I prefer the sense of her near me in bed when I sleep. We dont have to be touching; I guess over the years her sheer presence is enough of a comfort to me, more real to me than anything else I can think of. Maybe I walk around late at night just so I can look forward to that warm comfort who was sleeping in the bed upstairs, waiting for me.
I replayed the days events one last time in my head, and let out a small sigh of relief that, once more, Id ended my day exactly the way I have wanted to. Life was good.
Chapter 2 The next day I had a ten oclock meeting with my boss, so I headed up there a bit early. I hate being late and I hate it when other people are late. I know everyone is busy but it just seems rude to me to be late. Not so much rude, perhaps, as thoughtless. My mother raised me to be polite, and those lessons were deeply engrained. As a result, I hold open doors for people, I wait for everyone to have food before eating myself, I write thank-you notes, and Im almost never late for meetings. So I was slightly torn when I saw the young woman standing in the hall on the way to my meeting, clearly looking quite lost. She looked up hopefully at me, her face falling when she realized I wasnt anyone she knew, and I continued past her with a polite smile. On the one hand, she obviously needed some assistance, and it would be only polite to lend that assistance. On the other hand, doing so might make me late. Taking into account the bird in one hand or, rather, right in front of me, so to speak -- and the likelihood that Gary would be running late himself, I stopped a few paces past her. Can I help you? I asked, turning to face her. She looked back at me with gratitude. Im looking for Marketing. Do you know where it is? I nodded. Sure. Who are you looking for? Bill Wilmer.
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Oh, Bill, I said with a smile. Sure, I know Bill. I gave her some directions to get to his office, and she breathed easier. Are you new here? I asked. She nodded. A month, she said, arching her eyebrows for emphasis. She clearly was young, eager to please, and pretty to boot. Not fashion magazine pretty, but pretty nonetheless. She was of average height, with nice legs, a thin waist, medium length blond hair, and bright blue eyes in a clear face. These days, its hard to tell how young a woman is just by her clothes, as older women are so likely to adapt whatever odd fashion trends the younger women come up with. Its not so much the clothes that differentiate them as how they wear them. A forty year old woman can wear three inch platform shoes, low rise jeans, and a belly shirt while still feeling good about herself but not without feeling a little silliness about the whole thing that a twenty year old would not. I figured her for about Bridgets age, and hoped that some nice guy like me would give Bridget directions if she needed them. Im Tami Moore, she told me. Roger Sinclair. I smiled at her to show I was a friendly native, and her eyes widened in recognition. Im not the CEO or anything, just the Director of Financial Systems, but I was pleased and vainly proud that shed heard of me. Exlys not that big a company but big enough that she was impressed to be meeting me. I assumed that she hadnt had a lot of exposure to people at higher levels than her supervisor, so I was something a little unusual for her. We chatted for a little bit. Tell Bill I say hello, I told her in parting. She gave me a quick backward glance and a smile as she headed off. I found myself whistling slightly to myself as I continued on my way. I went to Garys office, and found the door closed. His assistants station was unoccupied, with an unfamiliar name on it. Youre looking well today, Barbara. I said to Barbara Ryder, the assistant to the CFO whose office was next to my bosss. Id known Barbara for years, as I dealt a lot with the CFO and his staff. Barbara was a nice lady, plus she was tightly wound into the rumor mill. I could count on her to give me good heads up on things I needed to know about.
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She gave me a small smile that made me feel welcome. As are you, Roger. Always a pleasure to see you. Here to see Gary? I gave her a big but honest smile. The pleasure is all mine, Barbara. Yes, Im here to see Gary. I nodded towards the new nameplate. Who is Cheryl Wilson? She made a face and glanced towards Garys closed door. Shes his new assistant. Shes in there now with him. There was something about the way she said it that made me think of what she wasnt saying. No kidding. Been in there long? I asked casually, trying to avoid looking at the closed door, behind which my straining ears couldnt pick up any distinct sounds. About a half hour. She put her head down and pretended to study some papers on her desk, but I wasnt fooled for a second. Huh, I said, more to myself than to her. Gary wasnt big on long meetings, and wouldnt ordinarily need closed doors to meet with his assistant. What he was big on, or used to be anyway, were young women. Hed come to Exly Technologies about five years ago and had racked up quite a reputation as a ladies man before getting married a couple years ago, to a woman who had been his assistant at the time. They now had one eighteen month old girl, and a second child this one a boy had been born about two months ago. Id been relieved when hed gotten married and reformed his playboy ways. In her subtle way Barbara was letting me know perhaps his eyes were wandering again. More likely, not just his eyes, since the door was, in fact, closed. I sat down and waited patiently, trying not to think about what Gary and Cheryl might be up to. After a few minutes the door opened up and Gary came out escorting a young woman whom I assumed was his new assistant. She was unconsciously smoothing out some imagined lines in her skirt, which didnt do anything to dissuade me of the notion
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that it might be -- shall we say hastily rearranged. Roger, youre here, Gary greeted me. Let me introduce you to Cheryl. Cheryl Wilson, I presume, I said, holding out my hands. She was quite attractive. Long blonde hair, even longer legs, and a body that would have served her well on Baywatch. Her skirt was mid-thigh length, and her white blouse was stretched tight across her ample chest. She smiled nice white teeth, I noticed and took my hand. You must be Roger Sinclair. I smiled back, not quite matching her voltage. I suppose I must be, unless I changed my name, and I dont think my parents would like that. She laughed and I could see why Gary might be attracted to her. She had a nice laugh and a warm smile, although it struck me that perhaps those werent the qualities he was most interested in. I didnt mind holding her hand either, perhaps maintaining the handshake a couple beats longer than I might have otherwise. All right, all right, Gary mock growled. Break it up. Cheryl, you know Im running late. Youre supposed to keep me on time here. Yes, Mr. Parker, she said demurely. I followed Gary back into his office, noticing that hed closed the door again. He smiled rakishly at me as he did. Not bad, eh? He settled into one of the plush chairs in his sitting area and indicated I should take one of the other chairs. Whats that? Cheryl. Cheryl? I asked, stalling.
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He waited for me expectantly, just giving me a knowing look. Youve got to be kidding me, I said finally. He just sat there with a smug expression, like the cat that ate the proverbial canary. Youve got to be kidding me, Gary. He leaned forward, giving me his best man-to-man look. You wouldnt believe her, Roger. Shes unbelievable. She makes me feel like a young man. You are a young man, Gary. For Christs sake, youre only thirty-eight years old, youve got a beautiful wife, youve got two great kids. And you want to screw around with your secretary? I suppose most people wouldnt talk to their boss like that. I wouldnt ordinarily either, not before Gary. He was a character all right. Id been at Exly ten years, but it wasnt until Gary came on board that things really started to click. Id been agitating my previous boss about installing a new financial system for years, but hed always shot me down due to the cost and the numerous transition issues. Gary hadnt been here but a month, or heard more than fifteen minutes of facts, before agreeing with me on the need. Hed pushed the project through, gotten me the funding and executive support the project needed. Then he left me alone to get it done. Which I did, making my career in the process. He spoke bluntly and encouraged me to do the same in return. Well, he said sheepishly, according to Bill Clinton it wouldnt count as sex. He flashed a beaming smile that bordered on a leer. Not yet. I just shook my head. I looked around the room quickly, wondering for the life of me where they might have done it. I couldnt imagine having sex in my office. Garys office was, of course, bigger and with more expensive furnishings, but it wasnt exactly like there was a bed or anything. He had one of those modern desks that was more like a big table, with no paper marring its surface, and an electronics set-up that looked like something out of a technology catalog. These chairs were comfortable, but shed have to be a contortionistI had to force my thoughts away from that picture. Well, not entirely,
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as I glanced towards the conference room to check out the size of its table. And what did he do about the big windows? Did they bother to close the blinds? Gary, hoping he didnt know what I was wondering about. Gary nudged me playfully. Come on, are you telling me you never cheated on Kathryn? I was offended by the question. Never, I replied indignantly. Never been so tempted by some piece of ass that you just had to have it? Gary looked at me with an expectant look, two guys comparing notes. Never, I repeated flatly. If asked, Id be hard pressed to explain my fidelity. I wished I could attribute it to my sterling character, but I knew myself better than that. It probably had more to do with not wanting to hurt Kathryn. I did love her and couldnt imagine doing something that would cause her the pain I imagined cheating on her would. That might still be admirable, but more cynically an even bigger reason was that I never wanted to risk our marriage breaking up. I knew my life would shatter without her. Gary sat back in his chair with a bemused expression. Man, I hope I dont get like you when I get older. Youll be divorced and alone when youre older. Gary laughed, not bothered in the least bit. I doubt it. Teri likes the lifestyle too much but, even if youre right, Im not going to be alone. Not unless Im broke and ugly. I just dont get it, I said, shaking my heads. Sure, Cheryl is pretty and all, but why risk your marriage and your kids over her? I looked back at
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Gary shook his head, sad about my ignorance about the ways of the world. Were men, Roger. We have millions of years of evolution training us to screw around. You cant fight it. These women they want us to. They make it possible for us to. Teris totally involved with the kids. Theyre her life. You dont think she doesnt expect Im going to play around a little on the side while she does that? You love those kids. Theyre your life too. Yeah, but not in the same way they are for her. Women want that stable environment, and once they have it they dont care about a girlfriend or two on the side. I shook my head. You sound like a caveman. You know youre in the 21st century now, right? I think you missed like a hundred years of womans lib. Yeah, I heard about that, he admittedly wryly. And I watch the movies and the videos and the television, and I think youre the one in the past. This isnt the 1950s. Women nowadays arent as hung up on fidelity. They go after the guys now, married or not. I think a guy being married actually encourages them. It used to be the guys not looking to get involved now its them. I paused a second trying to gather my thoughts. I guess I dont see that. I think women still care about that kind of stuff. I know Kathryn does, and I know I do. Gary just shrugged, more amused than interested in arguing. You look at civilization, and its pretty much due to men sleeping around. I shot him a questioning eyebrow. Hows that? Art, philosophy, commerce why do you think men invented those?
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You assume it was men. Thats kind of sexist, isnt it? He shrugged again and smiled that sharks smile. Why do you think painters use all those nude models? And do you really think all those hippies in the 60s were as interested in changing the world as much as they were the free love? Its all about getting some nooky, Roger youre the one missing out. I was almost too embarrassed to respond. I forced myself to look at him with a steady stare. Anyway, its sort of moot as far as Im concerned. I mean, I dont see a lot of women coming on to me. I must be too old. My tone was mildly sarcastic. He didnt seem to catch my sarcasm, instead patting my forearm sympathically. Youre not too old. Youre a good looking guy. You pull down a good living. You could get some if you just kept your eyes open. You just arent putting out the signals. I wouldnt even know what to say. The thought was troubling to me not that I didnt know the right pick-up lines, but that I was even thinking about it at all. Gary shook his head. You dont have to be Shakespeare or anything. You just have to let them know that you noticed them. Then just let nature take its course. I shifted my weight uneasily. How had this conversation turned into a seminar on picking up women, something I had no interest in? I looked at Gary dubiously. Id be afraid theyd be offended, or worse yet, laugh at me. And what do you do if they say no? Then they say no. Whats the big deal? You have to swing at the ball if you want to hit it. Sometimes you strike out, sometimes you get a ground ball, and sometimes oh, man sometimes you get a home run. Arent you just a little curious about if you still have it, if they think you still have it?
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I involuntarily thought back to my accidental encounter with Tami Moore, and how pleased Id been simply that she knew who I was. I thought of that friendly smile she gave me as she walked away. Could it have meant something more? She was my daughters age, for heavens sake, but I thought how pleased Id be if I thought she found me attractive too. Maybe she would have been flattered if I had flirted with her. Maybe. Gary saw something in my face and chuckled. See? Its kind of fun just thinking about it, isnt it? Think how fun it would be if you actually tried it. I shook my head. Dont be ridiculous. I wouldnt even know how to begin. Gary leaned forward. Take Barbara. She likes you and has been trying to flirt with you for as long as Ive known you. Barbara Ryder? I asked in surprise. OK, maybe shes not the best looking broad, but it just goes to show that the women of the world havent forgotten about you. Barbara was in her early forties, with three kids, the youngest of whom was in high school. She was a few pounds heavier than she probably wanted to be, and she reminded me of a librarian with her no nonsense manner, glasses, and a few strands of gray hair that she refused to color. Still, it wasnt like she was hideous or anything. Barbara is good looking, I said in her defense. See, Gary said with an amused smile. He leaned back further in his chair and gestured with open hands. He seemed quite pleased with himself. Youre already looking at women differently.
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Chapter 3 I dont remember what else we talked about, but as I walked back to my office I found myself thinking about what Gary had said. Truth be told, I wasnt sure Id ever had it. Kathryn had been one of my few serious girlfriends, and only the second woman Id slept with. She had been a much better looking woman than Id ever expected to be able to go out with, and looking back I couldnt really say why shed agreed to do so. I think the politeness thing had been intriguing to her. She claimed shed never known someone as thoughtful as me mistaking politeness for thoughtfulness, luckily for me and it had appealed to her. Over the years it had become slightly annoying to her at times, but now it was just sort of amusing to her. But, anyway, I hadnt had many other choices for girlfriends back then, and since then I cant say I felt Id ever really been presented with many options for cheating even if I had wanted to. Sure, I flirted with women not my wife. It was part of how men and women got along. I was careful never to take it too far, and especially to tone it down at work. Fear of sexual harassment dictates most male behavior in the office these days, Gary notwithstanding. But did I ever tease a partner when my wife and I played mixed doubles at the club? Had I ever said a double entendre to a neighbor at a party? Of course. Id noticed other mens wives, in their tennis outfits or their backyard shorts, and on more than one occasion Id attributed bad shots in my tennis game to distractions caused by female opponents. It might even have been true at times. On the other hand, I didnt ever see any women trying to push things further with me. That suggested to me they werent interested; what looks so easy in the movies is not so easy in real life, thank goodness. I always figured being married sealed off any interest that other women might possibly have had in me. Or, maybe, as Gary had told me, it was more than I wasnt giving out the right signals to women. The women who teased with me were probably doing so because they regarded me as safe. The same thing had happened when I was in high school and college. I had
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several women who viewed me as a friend, even though I might be lusting after them. Theyd talk to me, tell me their problems, even give me warm hugs or quick kisses goodnight then go out and sleep with the football players. Guys like Gary, who grinned evilly at them and groped them as soon as they could. I thought back again to my hallway encounter with Tami Moore. Yes, Id have probably stopped to help a man in similar circumstances, but I had to admit that it had lifted my spirits a little when she recognized my name and lifted them further still when shed given me that little smile when wed parted. She hadnt been flirting with me, not exactly, but I didnt necessarily think she thought I was a dirty old man either. Id meant it when I told Gary Id never even really considered cheating on Kathryn. OK, maybe if Pamela Anderson suddenly showed up and offered me one night of unforgettable sex of course Id be tempted. But that was pretty unlikely. It made me slightly ill to think that the real reason Id been faithful all these years was lack of opportunity. I refused to accept that. I loved my wife way too much to hurt her like that, and I loved our life together too much to risk it on some stupid extra-marital sex. No one could say I was really thinking about cheating. I still loved my wife, and I wasnt likely to do anything about it, but I was suddenly a little curious about if anyone else in the world found me attractive. The thing was, I did love being married, but when youre married you sort of lose that part of you that gauges how attractive you are to other women. Gary was right that men never quite get over that desire to appeal to other women. I didnt want to cheat on my wife but I had to admit that I wouldnt mind knowing that Id have some options if I wanted to. Id been married so long that Id effectively become sort of a eunuch as far as other women were concerned. I was just this sexless, nice, old guy. As far as they were concerned, I didnt deserve a second look, and I definitely didnt deserve that little extra glow that women give off when theyre attracted to someone. I dont know that I ever got much of it even when I was young and single, but my conversation with Gary had
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made me realize that I sort of missed it now. Call it middle-aged crisis, call it male vanity say what you will, but suddenly I realized that Id have given quite a lot for a strange womans eyes to follow me as I walked down the hall. I shared the elevator with two young girls and an equally young man. They were dressed rather loosely at the edge of the dress code, the girls showing rather more skin than I would allow my employees. The guy didnt seem to mind, and seemed to take as his due course the eager attention they were paying him. They barely noticed my presence, and didnt let it deter their conversation, chattering about friends or coworkers I didnt know. The girls were each pretty in their own way both blonde but one taller and more, shall I say, well-rounded than the other and seemed to me to be competing for his attention, with the animated energy that reveals a sort of desperate insecurity. What bothered me was how the young man just accepted their attentions as natural. He evidently figured he was young, he was moderately good-looking, he was cool, so of course women would be interested in him. I didnt know what the relationship was between the three of them if there were any romantic involvements between any of them, if they each had their own significant others, or if they were just part of a loose crowd of friends who hung out together and from what I saw on MTV treated sex as rather more casual than my generation. If it wasnt these women, he probably figured, it would be other women. But he knew there would be women available to him when he wanted them. No, that isnt what bothered me. What bothered me was that I didnt have similar options. Not that I wanted to take those options, mind you just that I didnt have them. I didnt think he was all that good looking. He was actually a bit soft around the middle, judging by the budge in his t-shirt. He dressed like a slob, his skin wasnt quite clear, and -- based on his conversational replies this was no Einstein or Oscar Wilde. Yet he probably had his pick of women. It wasnt fair.
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I didnt think I looked my age, and I kept myself in pretty good shape. I made a pretty good living, and I thought of myself as a nice guy. If this guy could have his pick of women, if Gary could bed a series of women a decade or more younger than he was, then certainly I should at least be able to get a few women to notice me. It just required an attitude adjustment. I tried to put myself in Garys place viewing myself as the hunter, with women as the prey, fair game all of them. I mean, realistically for a slightly balding, middle-aged guy like me, the place where Im most likely to get to meet women was work. Put me at a bar or a mall or even that mythical grocery store dating mecca, well, striking up a conversation with a pretty women was fraught with danger and probably doomed to failure. At work, though, I interacted all the time with a wide array of women, in a socially sanctioned environment with what was at least a modest level of social stature. They seemed to like me and didnt worry about what I might be up to in the way that a stranger would. One thing I had always enjoyed about work was getting to know so many people, having such a socially acceptable way to be friendly. I liked knowing people, I liked being friendly, but I was wary of doing so in public, so to speak. I suppose it used to be OK to walk down the street, say hello to strangers, and have them smile back at you. Nowadays people dont really walk down the street, and it certainly is risky to even make eye contact with strangers. What used to be Main Street is now the mall, but either youre with someone like your wife, in which case it is hazardous to your marriage to be smiling at women you dont know, or you are by yourself, in which case women you might want to smile at could decide you are a sociopath and call the cops. The world has gotten better in many years, but the walls up between people is not one of them. Its amazing anyone meets anyone else anymore. No question about it: if I did want to find out if women could still be attracted to me, work was my best bet. To test the hunter premise strictly as a scientific test, mind you -- I tried smiling more aggressively than usual at a couple of women I passed in the hall, and they smiled back at
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me with only a normal amount of friendliness. It was encouraging but inconclusive. I decided I needed to test the theory further.
Fortunately, later that afternoon I had a more fortuitous opportunity. There was a monthly status meeting on one of my key projects, lasting a couple hours and featuring several of the women I worked with most closely. On any objective level, they werent really that good looking a lot; no one would mistake them for a gathering of models or movie stars. They were just a cross-section of typical women, ranging from the midtwenties to the mid-forties. What they had in common were that they were women Id never slept with or expected to. They had that novelty factor going for them that ramped up their appeal immeasurably. Sitting across from me was Polly Milburn. Polly was in her early thirties, and had just had her first baby. She was short and very bright, with long brown hair that I kept waiting for her to cut now that she had had her baby. Wed worked together several times and she was always very, well, cheerful. Monica Cain, on the other hand, was tall and, as far as I knew, still single. She was attractive, and I had always wondered why she wasnt married. I pegged her at late thirties or early forties, and I wondered if perhaps she was gay, or had a live-in boyfriend that I was unaware of. I just knew that I liked her bright smile and sharp eyes. I thought I had sometimes caught her watching me with those eyes in meetings even when I wasnt talking, which intrigued me. Jennifer Frewer, on the other hand, paid me no real attention beyond the purely professional. No questions about my wife or my weekend, for example. She was the no-nonsense type, medium height, medium hair, but with an extravagant wardrobe. I dont think Id ever seen her wear the same thing twice. She was always colorful, and her outfits showed off her curvy body to best effect. She liked people to notice her, although she didnt overtly encourage it.
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Brooke Haywood worked for me. Brooke was in her late twenties I didnt know exactly how old she was, although I could have looked it up if I really wanted to and had worked in my department for about five years. Brooke was definitely cute. She was perky in every sense of the word, physically and in terms of her attitude. She was always cheerful without being cloying, yet was quite businesslike and professional. She struck me as being clearly ambitious. Despite our companys business casual policy, I never saw her not in a well-tailored suit, something that would look appropriate in a snobbish law firm or Fortune 500 boardroom. True, she didnt have a lot of them, but she wore them well. Her hair was too short to imagine her letting it down literally, but Id have bet that there was speculation among the young men in the office about what shed look like out of those suits. Then there were Joan Ladd and Annie Fuller, the dynamic duo. Both in their thirties, they were close friends, often seen together and always with a big smile for everyone. They were about the same height, but Joan was a blonde at least, her hair had blonde coloring and Annie had chosen red as her topping. Annies best physical asset appeared to be her breasts, so she tended towards tight sweaters or sheer blouses, while Joan had long, lean legs that she showed off with high heels and shorter-than-average skirts. Id seen her wear some designer-label jeans as well, which showcased her stillfirm butt. I found myself day-dreaming a little as people talked. Most of the updates Id already heard, so once I started to drift off it was tough to focus on work. I began to wonder what it might be like with one of women present. I couldnt actually imagine having sex with any of them, mind you, but I wondered about what theyd be like to be with. Jennifer had nice lips, I noticed for the first time. I bet theyd be soft to kiss. With Annie, of course, Id had to check out those breasts, see if she just bought really flattering bras or if that was all her. If it was her, did she have help or were they natural? Joan had lovely hands, long and delicate. I wondered if she painted her toenails to match the fingernails. There was something about painted toenails that still seemed slightly naughty to me, I dont know why.
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Brooke seemed so young and fresh; I speculated that sex might still seem like a surprise to her. In this day and age I doubted she was a virgin, but she might be inexperienced or with a history of inconsiderate lovers. Monica, on the other hand, made me think of secret fetishes and of things I didnt know. She had that mysterious air that seemed so sexy. Polly had just had a baby, so probably was not a likely target, but maybe women get hormonal surges post-partum. Kathryn had surprised me a couple times with a quickie after a late night feeding of Bridget. Maybe Pollys husband was too tired to keep her satisfied and she was looking for some quick sex to relieve her urges. To avoid any chance of my eyes wandering to off-limits zones, I put my head down to stare at the table, but instead I caught sight of Joans hands. She was sitting next to me, and her left hand was sitting on the table waiting. She moved it periodically in unconscious gestures, and I found myself with an almost overwhelming compulsion to put my hand out and touch her. Her hand was sitting right there, and I would only have to move my own hand a few inches to touch it. I could take her hand in mine, or stroke the bare skin on her forearm. It wouldnt be like I was assaulting her or anything, but I knew that the group would look at me strangely. Maybe Joan would laugh nervously, maybe smile encouragingly or, more likely, draw back in shock. I resisted the urge, but it took a conscious effort. Her hand was so close but might as well be miles away. The thing was, how would I go about making a move on any of these women? Id been alone late at night in my office with Joan, and nothing had happened. She hadnt even shown the slightest nervousness about the situation, something I rather thought wouldnt be true if I had been Gary. Id been away on overnight business trips with Polly. We traveled comfortably together, but there hadnt been any late night clubbing or hot tubs. It hadnt occurred to me to suggest something personal like that, nor had there been any obvious opportunities to suggest anything. Id done road trips with Monica, again with no sexual undertones that Id been aware of. I just didnt know how I would ever go from being a coworker hopefully even a well-liked one to becoming a sexual being with them.
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So it would take something really unusual. I began to ponder the possibilities. OK, I was on a trip with Joan no, make it Joan and Annie; if I was going for a fantasy, I might as well go for the fully Monty and the plane crashed. Lets say that the three of us were stranded on some desert island, or preferably a tropical island. Theyd be impressed by my handyman abilities, and comforted by my easygoing nature. As hope of immediate rescue faded and their natural urges rose Then my little proto-fantasy started to wander. Exactly how long would we have to be stranded before it was OK to fool around? I mean, it wasnt likely that on the first night out wed jump into having mad sex, was it? There might still be chance of rescue, after all. So would we wait a week? A month? A year? I found myself debating the timing rather than focusing on the more enjoyable events of the situation. Roger? I heard someone ask. I had to practically shake myself from my island retreat, regretfully wiping away even the image of Joan and Annie in their little grass skirts and coconut bras from my head. Excuse me? I asked, stalling for time. The group laughed. Wed met as a group enough times that we had a good group dynamic, and the fact of my little mental digression was fodder for amusement instead of annoyance. Hank was asking about the integration update, Monica asked quickly. Was it my imagination, or did her eyes have a little extra twinkle in them, as if she guessed what Id been thinking about? I quickly gathered my thoughts and said my piece, and tried to stay focused throughout the rest of the meeting. After the meeting we chatted for a bit, then dispersed. I asked Joan if her hair was different, just to let her know I noticed, and got a warm smile in return. Yes, it is, she told me, putting her hand up to touch it. Do you like it? Annie chimed in. I couldnt honestly remember what it looked like before, just that it had been different. Yes, of course, I replied heartily. Yours too. You both look very nice. As always. I
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realized, too late, that I was starting to babble and stopped myself before making any more of a fool of myself, but they didnt seem all that offended. In fact, they seemed to be smiling and talking with their heads inclined closer together than usual as they walked away. Maybe they were talking about me. As I got onto the elevator I saw Polly hurrying towards the elevator banks, so of course I held the door. Im hurrying, she assured me in an apologetic tone, as she did that funny little run-walk people do in such situations. No hurry, I assured her, waiting for her to be safely on board before getting on myself. Youre such a gentleman, Roger, she told me, standing against the back of the elevator and watching me appreciatively. I wish you could bottle that and give it to my husband. Hmm, I thought. This seemed like an opportunity. Im not that much of a gentleman, I protested mildly. She rolled her eyes. Oh, Roger. You have no idea. Men these days are generally so thoughtless. I think theyre so scared of womens libbers that theyre afraid to just be polite, much less gallant. You youre always both, to everyone. Well, thank you, I think. Meanwhile, I was wondering if this was my shot. We were on an elevator by ourselves. Shed practically just told me how much she liked me. I rapidly tried to think about what Gary might say in this situation, then rapidly dismissed that. If I was going to be a ladies man, I didnt think I had Gary in me. Perhaps I should say something like: if you think Im a gentleman here, you should see me in the bedroom, and leer meaningfully at her. Or maybe women didnt want politeness in bed;
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maybe I should tell her that as much of a gentleman I could be outside the bedroom I could be a savage in the bedroom. It sounded dopey to me even in my head. By the time all this passed through my head the elevator had come to a stop. Take it easy, Roger, she said, getting off the elevator with a backward glance and a smile. See you next week. Id missed my chance. Part of me was disappointed, but mostly I felt relieved. I had to face it. It was no coincidence that Id been married so long not just without cheating on my wife but also without even any serious risk of cheating on her. It probably wasnt even a coincidence that Id gotten married so young. My ability to appeal to women fell somewhere below zero. Gary and his ilk just had a flair that I lacked. Maybe it was looks, maybe it was style, maybe it was pure confidence but I definitely didnt have it. I must confess my spirits fell at this realization, even though it just took me back to where I had started the day.
As luck would have it, as I got back to my office I ran into Brooke Haywood, who appeared to be leaving for the day. Hello, Mr. Sinclair, she said brightly. I must have paused in my stride, because she slowed to a halt as well. Id had the chance to work with her on a few projects, so I knew her a little better than I normally would someone her level. I liked her, and she seemed to regard me as something of a mentor. Shed come to me for advice a couple of times, bypassing her supervisor and manager. Both times it had been on projects I was actively involved with, so her coming to me wasnt so unusual, but Id been a little flattered, and had taken a little more interest in her career than most. I think I also paid more attention to her because I felt a little sorry for her. She didnt seem to socialize much; she was friendly with her coworkers but I hadnt noticed her just hanging around anyones cubicle making small talk. I didnt remember her going to lunch with anyone on a regular basis either. Still, she always had a smile and hello for anyone, including me. In fact, she usually made time for a quick conversation with me.
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Hi, Brooke, I replied. How many times do I have to tell you to call me Roger? I feel like your teacher or your father. Sorry, she said with a guilty smile, although I suspected shed do it the next time as well. We chatted for a minute or two about the progress she was making on one of her projects. I noticed that she was carrying a shopping bag. I nodded towards it. Been shopping? She nodded her head. I bought a couple of swimsuits a couple days ago and Im going to return one of them. I havent tried them on yet, and I dont really need both, so Im bringing them both back to the store and Ill make up my mind then. Im not sure how to pick which one to keep. I cant really explain what happened next. I suppose I was still thinking about my conversation with Gary and feeling sorry for myself that women didnt find me attractive. I really wasnt intending to make a pass at her, but I couldnt help wondering what her swimsuits would be like. Would they be conservative one-piece ones, or did she show her wilder side on the beach? Then, of course, I had to imagine how shed look in a tiny bikini, and the next thing I knew words were coming out of my mouth. Much to my surprise -- and to hers, Im sure -- I said, Hey, Id be happy to give you my opinion. You could try them on in my office. It was as if the normal, everyday censor that usually checks your words before you say them was asleep at that moment. Perhaps my censor had realized that Garys censor had a way easier job and had decided to take a little job action by taking the rest of the day off. I dont know what I meant. It could have been worse, I suppose. I really didnt expect that she would actually model her swimwear for me, and I certainly wasnt suggesting
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that she change in front of me. The offer of my office was for her to use it as a changing room of sort; naturally I would have stayed outside and simply viewed the results. Seeing her in a swimsuit would have been beyond my wildest expectations; I certainly wasnt expecting or suggesting anything more. I might even have simply been trying to help, in a lame sort of unwanted assistance. Whatever my motives, I still knew that Id said the wrong thing. I tried to keep a small smile on my face so shed think it had just been teasing between colleagues, but not so broad a smile that shed think I was leering at her or that I wasnt entirely joking, just in case she was open to taking me up on the offer. I thought Brooke liked me. She had always seemed to, and my comment was just innocent flirting. Or so I tried to rationalize once Id realized what Id said. To her credit, Brooke never lost her composure. A cloud of confusion passed over her face and a more normal expression resumed after a fraction of a second. Her face reddened just slightly; I was sure mine was beet red. She gathered herself up and started to go. No, thanks, Mr. Sinclair. Ill just go to the store. I couldnt tell what else she was thinking.
Chapter 4 I was mortified by my lame interaction with Brooke, and resolved that my short-lived attempt to live some of Garys philosophy of life would indeed be short-lived. When I went home that night I kissed Kathryn on the cheek very warmly, and in our tennis match later that night I noticed but did not otherwise do or say anything about the attractive woman on the opposing doubles team. Kathryn and I won the match, but I gave our female opponent only the most polite of handshakes as we parted, even though her husband gave Kathryn a peck on the cheek and a quick congratulatory hug. Tonight I was as chaste as a monk, and I was going to be that way with anyone other than Kathryn. After we got home Bridget called. Dad? she asked.
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Hi, darling, I greeted her warmly. You just caught us; we just got back from having dinner after our big tennis match. Your mother and I prevailed, in case youre interested. Moms there? she asked, sounding a little surprised. Yeah, sure, I told her, not sure where else she thought Kathryn might be. She should have known by now that this was one of our tennis nights. Let me get her for you. No, no, I was just asking, she said quickly. Anyway, I just wanted to say hello. I better get going. She did, in fact, get off the phone without talking to Kathryn, which wasnt so unusual in itself. Sometimes shed just talk to whichever of us answered the phone, but tonight she just seemed a little jumpy and eager to get off the phone with me. I wasnt even quite sure why shed called. The next day went pretty normally, with me back to my more sedate ways. I passed Brooke once in the hall. She said hello and otherwise seemed normal, so I thankfully concluded that our little awkwardness had passed. I resolved to pay her no more attention than anyone else, mentor or not, but I was more than a little sorry that Id been so stupid and jeopardized a nice little coworker relationship. Around five-thirty Gary called and asked me to come up to his office. It was a little late for a meeting, but he often worked late and he knew I usually was here until six or sixthirty. He didnt say why he wanted me to come up, and got off the phone pretty abruptly. Still, I didnt think anything of it. When I arrived at Garys office I was surprised to see he wasnt alone. Standing by the window was Eric Montgomery. I didnt know Montgomery well, but I knew he was a
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big shot from Human Resources, and I figured his presence meant there was bad news about something. Come in, Roger, Gary said quietly. He was sitting behind his desk, and made no move to get up and settle us in the sitting area. Montgomery didnt budge from the window either. Close the door, Gary added. At that point I knew something was brewing. Montgomerys presence suggested personnel actions. I ran through the set of various rumors Id heard, but did not call to mind any rumors of layoffs. Nor had Gary warned me of any financial problems that Exly might be having that might cause something like that. I began to think that it must be about one of my employees, and quickly tried to guess which one and what they might have done. No one and no thing came to mind. Roger, let me get right to the point, Montgomery began, not even glancing over at Gary. I did, and found him studying the top of his desk with a neutral expression. We think it would be for the best if you resigned. This came as a complete shock. My mouth must have dropped wide open. What? I asked when Id recovered enough to speak. It would be easier all around if you resigned instead of making go through a formal process, he continued. He looked down, frowned slightly, and brushed some invisible lint off his pants. He was that kind of guy, always dressed to the nines and not a hair out of place. I suspected he had his nails manicured as well. I was sure this was either a huge mistake or some kind of cruel joke. Judging by their expressions, I doubted it was a joke; no one was that good an actor. I dont understand. Why would I resign? I told you Montgomery started with an irritated tone in his voice.
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Roger, Gary said, interrupting Montgomery. They want to avoid a sexual harassment suit. If my mouth was open wide before, it practically hit the floor now. Sexual harassment? Are you nuts? I sputtered. I looked over wildly at Gary, who still would not meet my eyes. What the hell is this about? If this is some kind of joke its not very funny. Sexual harassment is no joke, Sinclair, Montgomery said with some satisfaction in his voice. He was practically frothing with venom. We know what you did. Its an open and shut case. Believe me, you dont want this formally documented, and God knows we wont defend you in a lawsuit if it comes to that. Just who am I supposed to have sexually harassed? I asked with complete astonishment. Perhaps if theyd invented a mind probe that had listened in on my thoughts at the status meeting yesterday, OK, I could see them being appalled. Failing that, though, nothing else Id done had come close. I was completely mystified. Roger, did you say something yesterday to Brooke Haywood? Gary asked, finally looking up at me. I gasped. At that moment I knew how teenaged girls who got pregnant after only having had sex once felt, or people who got HIV from a transfusion. Contrary to what Einstein thought, God does play dice with the universe, and sometimes it comes out a bust for somebody. This time it was me. I get some stupid ideas from listening to Gary, make one very weak and entirely unsuccessful attempt to flirt with a coworker, and what happens? Now Im guilty of sexual harassment? It was so beyond the realm of possibility that it wasnt even ironic. I had to sit down suddenly, hitting the chair with a thud. Montgomery watched me with a satisfied expression on his face. Ill take that as a yes to Mr. Parkers question, not that we needed you to confirm it. He held out a piece of paper to me. Heres a letter of
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resignation. If you sign it we dont have to go public with this whole thing. We can just announce that youve decided to pursue other opportunities, and no one will ever know. You know that no one ever falls for that line, dont you, Eric? Gary asked harshly, glaring at Montgomery. He dropped his head to the desk and spoke to me in a softer, almost defeated tone of voice. Hes right, though, Roger. If you said what Eric says you said, theres not much point in fighting it. But it was just a silly little comment, I protested weakly, looked up at Montgomery beseechingly. I knew I was pleading and I hated myself for it, but I still harbored hopes that I could fix the situation. Im afraid she doesnt look at it that way, he said coldly. Neither do we. Theres no excuse for what you said to that woman. Its not like Id propositioned her, not exactly, but I had to agree it had been something I wouldnt normally have said. I looked over at Gary. He knew, and knew that I knew he knew, that Id said what Id said on the same day hed urged me to be more aggressive with women. Granted, he hadnt told me to hit on women at work, but the fact that he was getting oral sex from his secretary in this very office certainly didnt add to a picture of a work environment that set a good example. Any reason you want to tell me about that might help me explain your appalling lapse of judgment, Mr. Sinclair? Montgomery asked with a suddenly silky tone of voice. Although I was surprised at Montgomerys change of manner, I continued to look over at Gary. Gary raised his head slowly to meet my eyes, and in his expression I saw him steeling himself for what I might say. I could burn him. I could ruin his reputation. I could cost him his job, perhaps even his family. I could humiliate him much worse than
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what they were threatening to do to me. I knew things about him that would make what I said to Brooke seem innocent by comparison hell, they were innocent by comparison. But I couldnt do it. I turned back to Montgomery, then reached out and took the letter. I read it quickly, signed it, and left without a word. As I drove home I thought about the strange turn of events, but even more I searched for how I was going to explain it to Kathryn. Losing my job she could understand, although even that would not be so easy to explain. But losing it because of sexual harassment? For a stupid comment made to a young girl who worked for me? Kathryn would never understand that, nor could I ever explain it to her satisfactorily enough. Even if I didnt tell her that was the reason, shed hear, though, one way or another. Rumors would get out about why Id left, and one of her well-intentioned but slightly cruel friends would say something to her about it. People love to spread dirt. No, I decided, I had to be upfront with her. It wasnt like Id actually cheated on her or ever even intended to cheat on her; that should count for something, shouldnt it? I hoped so. As my mind raced through these thoughts I also tried to remember if she had to go out tonight. I thought so and Lord knows, I hoped so, so that Id have more time to prepare what Id tell her. If I had the evening to prepare I might figure out a way to break the news. I cant describe my disappointment when I saw her car in the driveway. Normally Id have been happy to get a chance to see her before she left for the evening, but not tonight. I needed that time to get ready, maybe have a drink or two to calm myself down. I cursed my continued bad luck, and sat in the car a few moments after Id turned it off. Finally I knew Id better face the music. I went inside, trudging slowly to the door.
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She was sitting at the kitchen table, evidently waiting for me. Her purse was next to her and she looked like she was going out. I must have just caught her, I realized. Shed probably been ready to leave, then heard me pull up and decided to wait a few extra minutes in order to say hello. My luck just was not holding up today. I thought you had something tonight, I said with a casual tone. Kathryn took a deep breath. I did. I do, she said with a tight voice. I was going to leave you a note but I decided I had to tell you in person. Tell me what? I asked. I took a deep breath myself. I have something I have to tell you myself. She seemed slightly surprised, and I could see her brush off my comment and gather herself to tell me what she had to tell me. She looked at me for a long second or two before slowly exhaling. Time seemed to slow down, and I heard her words clearly even though from what seemed like a great distance. Im leaving you.
Chapter 5 I was stunned. If this had had happened on any other day, I might have been able to respond somehow. I might have been able to have enough composure to get Kathryn to talk to me, to have a reasonable discussion about what shed said and perhaps change her mind about it. But tonight I couldnt. I have to admit that my first reaction was that shed heard about my being fired and that was why she was leaving. Im even more embarrassed to admit that my second reaction was a weird kind of relief she probably had not heard, and if she left now perhaps she would never have to. I almost preferred her leaving to her having to
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have her find out about my disgrace. Almost, but the thought of being without Kathryn practically destroyed me. My mouth gaped open and my knees buckled slightly. Kathryn looked at me with something that might have been sympathy but which I feared was pity. She looked lovely, dressed in slacks and a simple blouse under a light jacket. She clutched her purse and slung its strap over her shoulder, then turned and walked out the door without any further hesitation. Theres a great line in the Harry Chapin song Taxi. Hes just run into the long lost love of his life by chance, only now hes driving a cab while shes living a rich life with some other guy who she doesnt really love. She gives him a big tip and leaves the cab, and he doesnt do anything about it. The narrator admits that other men might have gotten angry or otherwise reacted, but and this is the part that I liked, but which until this moment I never really understood he sang: Another man never would have let her go. I let her go. It was all just too much. The days events just overwhelmed me. Being fired I could have dealt with, but being forced to resign on trumped-up charges of sexual harassment had thrown me for a loop. Having my wife leave me to boot, well, I honestly didnt know how to live in that world. I was Alice in Wonderland, beyond the looking glass in a way that I could not fathom. The rest of the evening I was restless. I convinced myself that Kathryn would return, or at least call. She couldnt just leave me like that. I refused to believe that. We loved each other way too much. There must be some logical reason for her walking out, but she had to still be worried about me. Shed want to stay in touch. Shed come back, or at least call. I was sure of it.
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I tried to watch TV but couldnt concentrate, so I retreated to the sanctuary of my workshop only to find that I couldnt work either. I was afraid that if I started working I wouldnt hear Kathryn if she came home, or that somehow Id miss the phone when it rang. That was stupid, of course; the portable was sitting next to me and even with a heavy duty saw going Id have heard it. But there was nothing rational about any of this. I couldnt picture a world without her, couldnt imagine what it would be like. So I just didnt think. I simply sat in my workshop motionless, listening for sounds that never came. At long last I retreated to the family room, where I eventually fell asleep in front of the reassuring blue glow of the television.
The next morning the phone finally rang. I must have been dozing, but I woke immediately and grabbed it. Kathryn? I blurted out. No, daddy, its me, Bridget said. Much as I loved to hear the sound of her voice, it was not the voice I was hoping to hear. Oh, hi, dear. My mood must have come through, or my brilliant daughter was psychic too. You dont sound thrilled to hear from me. Its not that, dear. Its just, well, Im waiting for a call. I didnt mention that Id basically been sitting her inert for over twelve hours. There was a pause. Dad, I dont think shes going to call. Not yet, anyway. Now it was my turn to absorb this. The night before, in my spare moments from thinking about what Id say to Kathryn when she called or came home, Id considered how Id
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break the news to Bridget. Id debated not telling her until I was sure what Kathryn was going to do, hard it would be to explain why she wasnt here when Bridget called. What do you mean, dear? I said at last, stalling for time. She sighed. Dad, I know mom isnt there. I know shes gone. That shook me. You do? How do you know? Dad, I cant tell you. Im sorry, but I cant. Her voice was gentle but firm. Youve talked to mom, havent you? When? How was she? Where is she? I was almost frantic at the thought that Bridget might be able to help me get Kathryn back. Bridget sighed again, and I pictured her shaking her head. Dad, I know this is very hard on you, and on mom. Its hard on me too. You have to promise me something, though. Whats that? You cant put me in the middle. What do you mean? I asked, although I knew perfectly well. Dad, she explained with a patient tone of voice, I love you very much. I love mom too. But you cant make me take sides. Im on both your sides. I didnt know what to say to that. Bridget Dad, she interrupted. I wont tell mom anything you tell me, not unless you want me to. And anything she tells me you have to let me be and understand when I dont tell you.
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My daughter, the diplomat. Still, I had to admit that she was right. Whatever problem Kathryn and I were having, it wasnt Bridgets fault. We talked for a few minutes more, although I still couldnt quite grasp the fact that Bridget already knew about Kathryn leaving. It seemed unfair at best and impossible at worst that she knew more about the state of my marriage than I did. I couldnt say this to her, of course, so I fumbled my way through the rest of the conversation. I dont know what we talked about, and Bridget signed off sounding worried about me. If she knew how I ended up spending the next several days, shed have had every right to be worried about me. I had known the dictionary definition of ennui, but I never really understood what it meant until I was faced with it. I just didnt care about anything, and even worse -- I didnt care that I didnt care. I pretty much just shuttled between the family room and the deck, sleeping wherever I was when fatigue hit me. I didnt shave, and some days I didnt even take a shower or get out of my pajamas. I refused to leave the house, still clinging to the increasingly faint hope that Kathryn would return, or at least call to explain herself. I eagerly grabbed the phone each time it rang, and Im afraid to say I was rather rude to more than a few telemarketers. I felt increasingly crummy. I wasnt sleeping well, even once Id finally drifted off in my chair, and I was tired all the time. Plus, my appetite was pretty low, and when I did eat it was usually junk food. I started to notice that I was getting headaches a lot of the time. It was hard to tell at first, since I felt like crap generally and it seemed fair that my head be no exception. I didnt use to get headaches, and I didnt like them. But they were sort of lost in my long list of things to be miserable about.
Eventually -- I think it was three or four days after Bridget called, although its hard to tell because the days really ran together, with day and night blurring into one dull cycle of sitting and waiting I finally had to break down and leave the house. I probably could have survived on food deliveries indefinitely, but I was out of toilet paper and coffee, two
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essentials I refused to skimp on or substitute for. I really didnt want to run into any of my neighbors, so I chose a grocery store several miles away, and went late in the evening. It was one of those large welllit superstores, stocked with every conceivable kind of item and specialty goods. I still remembered grocery stores from my youth, with their dim lighting and dingy floors. You were lucky if they had a couple kinds of cereal to choose from, and if you ran into another cart coming down the aisle one of them had to turn around. I could drive a sedan down these aisles, and the lights were bright enough to illuminate a baseball field. I supposed this was progress. Much to my surprise, the store was surprisingly busy even that late at night. I stumbled around in the unfamiliar aisles, deciding to pick up a few more items than planned. It was always a good idea to have some frozen pizzas on hand, and beer seemed to be particularly desirable these days. Lots of beer. In the past, Kathryn had usually done most of our grocery shopping. My visits to the store tended to be short, focused, in-and-out ventures. On this trip, though, I started the trip with the same attitude, but once there I felt the need for some company. Id been without human companionship for these few days, and it was like realizing I was hungry; now that I was among other people, I craved some interaction. I tried to smile at my fellow shoppers, only to discover my days of isolation had had a curious effect: I was invisible, at least for all practical purposes. No matter how hard I tried to make eye contact, people at best seemed unaware of me and at worst were clearly avoiding me. It was like I was a leper. I was wearing a pair of ragged shorts, a t-shirt that was so worn as to be almost paper-thin, and a pair of boat shoes that had seen better days. Plus, I was unshaven and my hair was unkempt. I really hadnt expected the store to have many people there and hadnt really thought of my appearance at all, but found I still had the capacity for embarrassment and not a little frustration.
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Many of the other shoppers were there with someone a spouse, a child, a lover or a friend. Even some of the solitary people were using the cell phones to stay in contact with people who cared about them. The rest of them probably still had people they were going home to, or at least people who would worry about them. I was the only one all alone in the world. Instead of reassuring me, my little trip to the grocery store was making me feel worse than ever. There was one woman, a fortyish, moderately attractive woman whom I accidentally ran into in a couple aisles. I think what attracted my attention was that she was so, well, normal. She was wearing tennis shoes, a pair of shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt, with her very blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked like shed put the kids to bed and gone to the store while her husband was watching television. She looked like someones wife, someones neighborshe looked like someone from the life I used to have. For some odd reason, I found myself thinking that, if only she would notice me, if only she would give me a smile, it would reassure me that I wasnt totally worthless. I didnt want to flirt with her, and I didnt expect her to be attracted to me. I just wanted to be someone she would notice. It wouldnt even have to be a smile. It could just be a look, an acknowledgement that I was a human being too, worthy of her attention just for a moment. But she didnt pay any attention to me either. It got worse. I turned down the paper goods section and saw a slender woman in slacks and a jacket, with low-heeled sandals -- evidently coming from work or maybe a dinner. Her back was to me and I wondered if perhaps I might be more successful about getting her attention than I had been with the housewife. I rolled my cart up towards her, debating on potential strategies. A smile and polite good evening? Ask her the time, or for some advice on applesauce? Then, as I drew near, I realized in horror that she looked familiar. It was Polly Milburn. She hadnt seen me yet, and I hesitated, not sure I wanted her to see me. If Id recognized her at the beginning of the aisle I probably would have opted to not turn up it, giving me more time to plan, but as it was I could either just
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roll quickly by her and pretend I hadnt seen her, hoping shed not recognize me, or bluff it out. It was fifty-fifty for a second there, but as I drew next to her I made an impulsive decision: Polly had always been nice to me, so Id give her a chance. I tried to form a smile on my face, which wasnt as easy as it used to be. She didnt look up, so I called out to her. Polly! I said in a forced cheerful tone. When she still didnt look up studiously reading the backs of some paper towels I tried again. Polly Polly Milburn. Its me, Roger Sinclair. I was now standing right next to her cart. She finally looked up, and from the expression on her face I immediately knew something was wrong. Hello, Roger, she said in a dry tone of voice. She eyed my outfit. You look like shit. Thanks. I was now acutely aware of how badly I looked, even for a late night grocery run. I must look like Id been marooned on a desert island, which, in some sense, I guessed I had. Look, Polly, I began, not entirely sure what I was going to explain, only sure that somehow I had something to explain. Stop it, Roger, she said, cutting me off with a curt hand gesture for emphasis. You have a lot of nerve. What? I asked, stunned at the vehemence in her voice. Id been wrong to be afraid I might look like a desert island refugee to her. No, she was looking at me like I was standing there in my boxers fondling myself in front of a bunch of small kids. I felt dirty just by her look. I heard about you losing your job, she continued, glaring at me. At first I felt sorry for you, then I heard what happened and I wasnt sorry for you anymore.
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Polly, it wasnt what you think, I began to plead, understanding at last what she might be thinking. Those poor girls, Polly said, shaking her head and averting her eyes away from me. And to think I Her voice drifted off, and I was left wondering what she was referring to. To think she had liked me? To think shed been alone in an elevator with me? To think, perhaps, that she might have had some interest in me? Then the other part of her statement hit me. Girls -- plural? How did this go from a simple comment to Brooke to girls plural? Polly, please, I began again, holding out my hands towards her beseechingly. She looked at them as if I was trying to grab her, and moved behind her cart, keeping it between us. Stop it, she hissed. She paused a moment to regain her composure. And I heard your wife left you. Good for her. With that she stormed off, leaving me tattered, torn, and internally bleeding in the aisle. I watched her move away and felt that, with her, all of my previous life was similarly walking away.
I somehow made it home, even numbly paying for my purchases from the humorless cashier, but I didnt sleep well that night. I was awakened by the doorbell the next morning. I stumbled to the door and flung it open without checking the peephole. Its you, I said dully, disappointment clear in my voice. Gary surveyed me carefully. I can understand youre not too happy to see me, he replied. He gestured to the living room. Can I come in for a couple of minutes?
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I turned and walked into the living room, slumping onto one of the chairs. Gary followed me warily and sat on the couch. He must have come on his way to work, as he was dressed in his suit. I tried to remember not just when Id eaten last but also what meal Id had. Gary looked around the room, which had a few piles of unopened mail sitting on the floor near the door. You look terrible, he told me. Wish I could say the same, I said nastily. Wheres Kathryn? She left me. It was the first time Id had the occasion to utter those words, and the shock of them still had the power of a slap in my face. They seemed to hit Gary as well. His face registered his surprise. Left you? What happened? I dont know, I admitted. Gary looked at me carefully again. Was it he began delicately. I shook my head. I never got that far. I came home and she told me she was leaving. Poof! Twenty-five -- no, twenty-six years! -- of marriage gone just like that. Gary shook his head. Im sorry. I didnt know. I waved my hand casually. But you didnt come here to discuss my marital problems. Why are you here, Gary? Come to gloat? I said it to hurt Gary and I think it worked. His face got a guilty look on it. Look, I came to say I was sorry about what happened. There was nothing I could do.
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There was a lot you could have done, I snapped. You just let Montgomery railroad me out of my job. You didnt do anything to stop him. Roger, you dont understand, he began. That infuriated me. God damn it, you could have done something. You could have told him you didnt believe those stupid accusations. You could have stuck up for me. Did you say what he said you said to that girl? Well So I guess youre not entirely blameless in this, are you? He had me there. I wanted to strike back at him, so I hit him with a low blow. It wasnt as bad as the things youve done. He nodded thoughtfully at that. I know, he admitted, surprising me. I came to thank you for not saying anything. We sat there in silence for a few seconds. Why didnt you? he asked at last. The truth is, I never even really considered it. Part of it was that macho code of never ratting on other guys. More of it, though, was feeling bad for him. He had a wife and kids, so even if he was doing stupid things I didnt want them hurt by the whole thing. I shrugged. I dont know. I guess I didnt see how it would help. He seemed both thankful and relieved. Well, thanks. It seemed like he wanted to say something more, but didnt know what it was.
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Another few moments passed, this time with each of us studying the other. So will you help me find something else? I asked, feeling beaten but with a small glimmer of hope still struggling to stay alive. It was as close to pleading as I could go without losing whatever self-respect I had left. Somewhat to my surprise, Gary shook his head. I cant. Cant, or wont? Roger, this whole thing isnt about you. I had to laugh. Thats funny, because me losing my job, my reputation, and now my wife sure as hell feels like it has something to do with me. So who is it about? Gary stood up and walked over to the front window. He put his hands in his pocket and looked out the window. This Montgomery is an ambitious son-of-a-bitch. Hes after me. He did this expecting youd try to get revenge by spilling the beans on me. I imagine hes waiting for your call, to try to make a deal. So you decided to pay me a visit to talk me out of doing that? Gary exhaled sadly. No, Id understand if you did. I came to tell you not to trust the bastard. Hes already burned you. How do you mean? I mean, aside from getting me fired? Thats not the half of it, Gary said. He reluctantly faced me again. He put out a memo to management telling people that no one was to give you any kind of references. The memo didnt say why, but it did say people could expose not just Exly but also themselves personally to liability if they said anything good about you.
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Jesus Christ. I was just starting to realize how bad my situation really was. Gary grinned at me sardonically. Aint that the truth. I thought back to my encounter the night before. I ran into Polly Milburn in the grocery store last night. She talked to me like I was a degenerate. And she said something about those poor girls. What the hell did she mean by that? He exhaled deeply. Theres rumors floating out that this wasnt a one time thing. Ive heard youve been groping women for years. That hurt. You have? And people believe them? Gary shrugged. Doesnt matter. Lots of people say they dont believe them but they spread them. And thats not all. I had a hard time imagining what else there might be, so I had to ask. What? Ive had a few calls from friends at other companies. Montgomery put out the word with some of his HR buddies. Youre hot, man. Radioactive. No one is going to take a chance on you. Not until things cool off. If they cool off. What would change things? I dont know, he admitted. Im trying to figure out if that bitch is in on this with him, or if he just was waiting for something like this to fall in his lap. I had to think about that one. The thought that Brooke might have set me up somehow had honestly never occurred to me. I was so quick to blame myself for making those stupid comments that I hadnt had time to think about why shed been carrying those swimsuits in the first place, or how Montgomery had heard about them so quickly.
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Ill be damned, I said at last. Unlike Gary, I suddenly had no doubts about Brookes complicity in my downfall. Jesus, they cant get away with this can they? Gary put out a cautioning hand. Hey, now. We dont know if theyre in on this together or not. You have to give me a little time to smoke Montgomery out. Youre looking at this like its about you, and youve already lost the war. Its not and you havent. That made me mad. It sure the hell feels like its about me. He shook his head. Hes after me and now its a war. He won this battle, but its just the first skirmish. You were just the casualty. I stared at him angrily. Thats what all this is? Just an innocent victim in a skirmish? I mean, you know, my whole life being ruined feels like it is worth more than that. Gary seemed troubled by that, and moved away from the window. It was clear he wanted to go, but I just sat there, drained of all energy. He looked down upon me with sympathy. Im not going to let him win, he said in a soft but firm voice. Believe me. I wasnt sure if I believed him or not, but I was so overwhelmed again with the latest angle to screw up my life that I barely noticed when he turned and left me alone in the house again.
A day or two later I really cant be sure I was sitting on the deck at dusk when my neighbor Steve Price came slowly up the steps. I had a beer in my hand, some music playing in the house, and the portable phone at my side. I was sitting there still waiting for the call that never seemed to come. Steve was holding a six-pack in his hands and an expression on his face that was supposed to be a smile but which suggested that he didnt quite know what to expect. Hey, neighbor, he said with guarded cheerfulness.
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Hey, Steve, I replied dully. Im sure at that point I looked a mess. Id been in the same clothes for a few days now, hadnt cleaned up in that time, and probably looked about as bad as I felt. I gestured to one of the other deck chairs. Have a seat. He sat carefully. Beer? I nodded towards my own beer. Im doing fine, but thanks. Help yourself. He pulled one of the cans from the six-pack and opened it, taking a satisfied drink. Steve had moved in the neighborhood six or seven years ago. Hed come over one day when I was finishing up my deck, and wed struck up a casual conversation. When hed wanted to put up a deck of his own I volunteered to help, and we spent a few bonding weekends working on it. Since then our families would periodically barbeque on one of our decks, go out to dinner or host a party. His wife Becky was pretty friendly with Kathryn. So, I heard about Kathryn, he said carefully. I looked over at him. How? My tone must have been harsher than Id intended or maybe it was exactly as harsh as I intended, I dont know. He looked at me with a surprised look on his face. Hey, hey, buddy Im on your side. I felt foolish picking on him. Im sorry, Steve. Im just a little tense these days. Steve smiled tightly. I hear that, man, and I feel for you. Anyway, Becky heard it from Kathryn.
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That got my attention. She did? When was this? I was surprised although I dont know why I should have been that shed be talking to our neighbors but not me. Steve seemed to consider his answer. Well, a few days ago, I guess. How few? Two? Three? He looked away, out at the pretty sunset that I was somehow oblivious to. I guess theyve been talking about it for a while. Then Kathryn told Becky a couple weeks ago she was really leaving. I sat up and faced him. My wife told your wife a few weeks ago that she was leaving me and you didnt think to mention this to me? Steve looked uneasy and shook his head. Roger, it was none of our business. We didnt want to interfere. You were my friend, Steve. And you didnt want to interfere? Well, fuck you. He was clearly startled by my reaction. He sat up too. Hey, Roger I mean, Ive lost my wife, Ive lost my job, and you didnt want to interfere. What a great friend you are. Lost your job? Steve repeated, surprised. Becky thought shed seen you out here during the day, but we figured you were just taking a few days off because of Kathryn leaving and all. When did you lose your job? Same day Kathryn left. I felt an obscure satisfaction in having these calamities hit so closely together.
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Jesus, he said, shaking his head. We knew Kathryn was thinking of leaving but Id have never guessed shed leave you in the lurch like that. Man, thats cold. Steve shook his head at the injustice of it all. She didnt know I lost my job, I said, feeling an odd need to defend her. Despite what shed done, I didnt want anyone to think poorly of her. After all, part of me still harbored hopes that she would return, sorry for whatever folly that had caused her to leave. Steve and I sat back in our chairs and considered the world in conversational silence, amidst the still-playing music and the increasing chirping of the evening insects. After a suitable time he excused himself, saying he had to get home. He told me to let them know if there was anything he or Becky could do. I doubted there was and I was dubious that theyd be too likely to make good on his offer. He left and I was alone in my world again.
Chapter 6 I gradually began to consider the possibility that Kathryn wasnt coming back, or that she might not even call. I retreated further into my little world, literally closing off the curtains and the drapes to block out the outside world. The only thing that kept me remotely on a time schedule was the television programming, and with the omnipresence of cable programming even that was pretty hit-or-miss. I even began to try to call Kathryn, at her office and at the tennis club, but neither place admitted to having seen her. Both also offered to let her know Id called in case they saw or heard from her, but I already suspected that they were on her side and couldnt be counted on.
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When the food in the kitchen ran low I simply switched to ordering deliveries. The good thing about pizza and Chinese food was that they worked for anytime of the day breakfast, lunch, dinner, or an in-between snack. You can eat them standing, sitting, or even walking, and you never have to set the table. I was lucky to have several places nearby that not only would deliver but also would take credit cards, so I didnt even have to go out to get money. I just had to open the door, mumble thanks to the delivery guy, and close the door as rapidly as I could. My house was beginning to turn from a refuge, my familiar safe haven, into something that was at best a cave and at worse a prison. When the doorbell rang a day or two later I blearily stumbled to the door trying to remember if Id ordered something to eat. Nothing came to mind, but given my current condition that was no guarantee that I hadnt. The woman who stood there was clearly was no delivery person. She was impeccably dressed in an expensive suit, with immaculate hair, make-up, and nails. Behind her stood a large younger man, also dressed in a suit but without quite her smooth veneer. She took in my disheveled appearance yet didnt flinch or show the slightest surprise. Mr. Sinclair? she said. Im Evelyn Crenshaw, your wifes lawyer. This is my associate. I stood for a second, blinking my eyes at the bright sunshine and at her words. We have a lawyer. Somehow I didnt think he was selling legal skills door-to-door. She smiled slightly. You might say Im a specialist. May we come in? I stood back enough to let them pass by. I realized how bad the living room must look. Most of the pizza boxes and the cartons of half-finished Chinese food were in the family room or the kitchen, but the mail had piled up to ominous levels. I gestured to the couch,
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and she sat down primly. The man remained standing, his hands folded in front of him like a Secret Service agent on guard duty. I noticed Crenshaw had not offered to introduce him. She crossed her legs and looked at me expectantly until I sat down on one of the armchairs. When the conversation starts, my wifes lawyer, I suppose theres really no good way for the rest of it to go. Its like when a doctor goes hmm when reading your test results. Its a professional sentence of doom. She and I looked at each other until she decided I was as ready as I was going to be. She leaned forward and opened up her briefcase, taking out a small stack of papers that she laid on the coffee table. Mr. Sinclair, I know these are difficult times for you, but your wife is filing for divorce. By now it shouldnt have come as a surprise, but it did. Divorce? No, youre wrong. Shes just taking a little time off. Even as I said it I both knew it sounded stupid, and I knew that she knew things that I didnt. Her expression changed just marginally, but it softened just enough for me to see that she felt sorry for me. Or, at least that she wanted me to think that she did. Mr. Sinclair, the easiest way to accomplish the divorce is whats called a no-fault divorce. That means, she said, flashing an insiders smile, no harm, no foul, so to speak. Neither party admits fault. All you have to do is agree on the divorce and on the financial settlement. But I dont want a divorce, I protested, sounding pathetic even to myself. She made no sign that shed heard me. She split the papers into two piles on the table. This document, she said, tapping on the smaller pile, is the divorce agreement. She pointed to the other pile. This document details the financial arrangements. Your wife is willing to be very generous in her demands assuming we can reach agreement quickly. She pushed the papers towards me.
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I didnt move towards them, and continued to stare at her with uncomprehending eyes. My mouth was slightly agape. She continued, smiling at me as though I was agreeing with every word she said. Kathryn is offering to leave you your personal accounts, as well as your pension and 401(k). Shell keep her accounts, her car, and a few items from the house, all of which is detailed in the agreement. The main thing shes requesting is her share of the value of the house. The house? Her half of the house? The house was ours! The house was part of us. It wasnt something that you could divide, and it wasnt something that meant anything without us. It was incomprehensible that Kathryn wanted to sell the house and just cash out. It was like putting a price on our marriage. But I dont want a divorce, I repeated, for lack of anything more intelligent to say. Crenshaw leaned forward. Mr. Sinclair, you seem like a nice man. Kathryn has said nothing but good things about you. She doesnt hate you, and she doesnt wish you any ill-will. Aside from divorcing me, you mean. I must admit that I was rather snide about it. Crenshaw politely ignored my poor manners. She nodded slowly. Yes, despite that. But the point is, Mr. Sinclair, she wants a divorce. I took a deep breath and stood up. I noticed her associate seemed to watch me very closely. Does your associate speak, or is he here just to scare me? Crenshaw remained seated, cool as ever. Not everyone takes things as well as you have, Mr. Sinclair. What if I tell you to go to hell and throw you out?
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Now Crenshaw stood up, smoothing her skirt primly. When she had finished she looked at me with a no nonsense expression. Mr. Sinclair, you have to trust me when I tell you Im very good at what I do. Your wife has hired me to get her a divorce, and get her a divorce I will. All you can decide is how much it will cost you and how ugly you are willing for it to get. Is that a threat? She shook her head. Just a prediction, based on my experience. I stared at her for a few seconds. Before I decide anything, Id like to talk to my wife. She doesnt want to talk to you. She left no doubt about it. Dont you think I deserve at least that much from her, after twenty-six goddamn years of marriage! I was surprised to find myself shouting, and saw that her associate was looking interested perhaps even eager. I put out a cautioning hand towards him. Its OK, Im all right, cowboy. He didnt look amused, but he did look a little disappointed Id cooled down so quickly. I thought for a minute, watching her carefully. It would take months to sell the house. Shed have to come home to get it ready and to sort things out. Crenshaw smiled confidently at me. She already has a buyer.
Chapter 7 Before she left, Crenshaw had explained that Kathryn had found a buyer, agreed on a price, negotiated move dates, and even arranged for movers to come and pack. Bridget
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would come to oversee things and take care of the pieces that Kathryn wanted to keep. I could keep what I wanted, putting it in storage or wherever I wanted, and an auction firm would dispose of anything neither of us wanted. The price for the house was pretty good, too, but it hurt me to imagine this house as someone elses. I agreed to think about it, but mostly just to get her out of the house. I decided I had to take action at last. Her visit had been the last straw. If Kathryn thought I was going to take this all sitting down, she was wrong. I was made of better stuff that that. I had tried calling Kathryns office, but now it was time to go there. If she wasnt there, someone would know where she was. I didnt know why I hadnt tried before; in my daze I had been unable to proactively do anything. Crenshaws visit had changed all that. Now was time for action. I showered, shaved, and got dressed for the first time since shed left, and felt immensely better. Id been wallowing in pity too long. Id had a couple of big shocks, yeah, but I just had to take things in my own hands. I suddenly felt confident that if I could just see Kathryn and get a chance to talk this through, we could work it out. Even her lawyer admitted she still loved me, sort of. I practically whistled on my way to Kathryns office. Hi, Janie, I said to the receptionist, noticing but not responding to the shocked expression on her face. I flashed her a big smile. Im here to see Kathryn. Shes not here, Roger. She seemed genuinely surprised to see me and sorry to tell me. I didnt believe her for a second. Ill just go on back to her office, I said casually as I walked rapidly past her desk, ignoring her belated protest. I headed back to where I knew Kathryns office was, seeing surprised heads pop up out of cubicles as I strode past. I only stopped when I got to her office and found Nora Owens name on the door and Nora behind the desk.
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Shes not here, Roger, Nora said softly. Nora was Kathryns long time right-hand coworker, and one of her closest friends as well. Theyd worked together for almost ten years at the Keyes Foundation. Did you guys switch offices? I asked stupidly. Please, come inside, Roger, she pleaded. Where is she, Nora? I need to talk to her. Nora came close and took my arm. Please, come in my office. I was still registering that it was her office instead of Kathryns, and wondering where Kathryns office was. I sat down on the couch with her. She looked at me with sad eyes. Roger, Kathryn doesnt work here anymore. What do you mean? Her last day was two weeks ago. She was able to talk the Board into letting me be her successor. This took me a minute to process. But...she loved it here. This hadnt just been just a job. Shed felt a real mission towards their work. Her staff was like family to her, her Board loved her, and philanthropists trusted her to do good work with their money. I couldnt imagine why she would leave. Nora reached out and took my hand. Im sorry, Roger. It was just time for her to go. It was as if Kathryn had died. I wasnt sure if Nora was talking about her job or her marriage, but either way her point was the same. I need to talk to her, I told her quietly. Please.
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Noras hand stiffened in mine. You cant, Roger. Why not? I deserve to talk to her at least. Cant you just tell me where she is or give me a phone number? She shook her head and withdrew her hand slowly. Shes just not ready, Roger. If I could, I would, but I cant. Please. I looked down at the floor. Id been in this office so many times. Id helped stuff envelopes, Id picked Kathryn up on our way to dinner, Id come to staff parties. I knew what this office and this work had meant to her. Now it was Noras office. It had Noras desk, Noras pictures, Noras files. There was no trace of Kathryn left here, and I suddenly shivered when I thought of what our house would be like when the last trace of her was gone from her as well. Are you all right? I shook my head. No, Im not all right. I may never be all right again, I told her. I stood up abruptly. I have to go. Roger, please, she said, scrambling to stand up herself. I just want you to know how sorry I am. I wish I left her behind, trying to keep tears from my eyes and not doing a very good job of it. I rushed out of the office and sat in my car. I cried unabashedly for a few minutes, then started banging on the wheel in impotent fury. When my emotions were finally spent I wiped my face and silently thanked the powers that be that no one had walked by during my little outburst.
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I had to face facts. Kathryn had worked out the details of a divorce agreement. She had put the house on the market and found a buyer. She had worked her Board to approve her handpicked successor and left her job. I bet that if I went back to the house and looked through the accumulated mail I wouldnt find any of her credit card bills, bank account statements, or personal mail. I bet that shed changed her address sometime over the last few weeks without my noticing. This divorce was not a spur of the moment thing for her. Shed planned this for sometime. She wanted out. I pulled out my mobile phone and called Bridget at work. Hi, Bridget. Its dad. Dad! she exclaimed. Hang on a minute. I heard her quiet someone in the background and return to the phone. I was going to call you later. Bridget, your mom wants a divorce. I know, she admitted with a careful tone of voice. I thought you might. Shes also quit her job and found a buyer for the house. I know that too. Her voice sounded small and pained. I thought you might. I gather from her lawyer that shes even assigned you to help pack up or get rid of all of our stuff. She exhaled in a short burst. Dad, I I jumped on her moment of weakness. Do you know where she is? There was silence on the other end of the line. I could hear her breathing quietly, as well as some music playing in the background, but she did not respond. I pressed her again, with a gentle tone. Bridget, I need to talk to your mom. None of this makes any sense
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to me. I know she wants out, but I need to hear it from her. Can you tell me where she is? Dad, I cant. Her heart sounded like it was breaking. I imagined mine did too. But you know. She sighed. Yes, I know where she is, but I cant tell you. Dad, remember when I told you that you cant put me in the middle? Well, this is the middle. She sounded close to tears and I realized what I was doing to my own daughter. Whatever was happening between Kathryn and me was hard enough on her without me trying to interrogate her. She was my baby and Id always vowed Id protect her with my life if need be. This was one such time. I let out a breath I didnt know I was holding. I looked around at the people walking around, on their way to jobs or lunch or errandsor meeting loved ones. Their lives were going on as normal while mine was crashing around. Im sorry, honey. Its just been, well, hard. She apologized too, and I asked her when she would come up to help with the house. Until that moment I hadnt realized that Id given up, that I would agree to the divorce and to selling the house. She said shed look at her calendar and let me know when she could clear a few days. We said goodbye, friends again, or so I hoped. I was just going to let my wife walk away, just like Id let her walk away that night. Just like Id let Brooke Haywood run me out of my job. That was really the start of all this. Yes, Kathryn must have started her planning well before all that, but perhaps if I hadnt just been railroaded out of my career on Brookes trumped up charges then perhaps Id have been able to have an adult conversation with Kathryn about whatever was making her unhappy. I still loved her and thought that she still loved me, so if only I could have had that chance right then to talk to her I might have changed her mind, or bought some time to work it out. But I hadnt even had that chance.
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And how the hell did I know that Brooke hadnt been even more nefarious than I knew? If she was evil enough to blow our exchange all out of proportion to Eric Montgomery, for all I knew she was evil enough to have maybe made a phone call to Kathryn several weeks ago. She could have set this whole thing up, spreading lies about me to destroy my life. She was probably insanely ambitious and wanted me to get fired so she could move up at Exly. Maybe she and Eric had schemed to get her my old job. Id had everything in life that I had wanted. I used to be able to see my future ahead of me, a comfortable retirement and happy old age not so far ahead. All Id had to do was hang on, and Id have been home free. Yet Id been unable to do that. Now the only thing good left in my life was Bridget, and shed been turned into an unwitting conspirator in the dissolution of my marriage and of my happy home. None of it was fair. I deserved better. Someone had to pay for the wreck that my life had become with such shocking suddenness. I felt oddly energized. My days of lethargy and indecisiveness were over. All of this was Brooke Haywoods fault. She was the bad guy. And I was going to do something about it.
Chapter 8 Things started to move very fast then, careening dangerously fast like a downhill ski run on a slope way past my abilities. I signed the various papers, and Evelyn Crenshaw told me the new buyers were anxious to move in as soon as possible. They had the financing all set, and shed handle the closing, since one of the papers Id signed was a limited power of attorney for the transaction. All I had to do was pack up and move out, and Kathryn had planned for that well. Shed arranged for a company to pack up everything for us. Kathryn only had a few things she wanted; I could keep anything else I wanted, and theyd dispose of anything else through an auction or an estate sale. Kathryn and I
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would split the proceeds, although that didnt seem very important at the moment, despite my current lack of income. At that point, I couldnt get out of the house soon enough. It was no longer my refuge. Now it was monstrous, everything in it silent testimony to my failure. All the happy memories I had were colored by my inability to spot where it had all gone wrong, where Kathryns feelings had changed from love to indifference to having to walk away from me. I racked my brain trying to remember when she changed towards me, how she was different one day from all the days before that. Did we stop kissing goodbye when I left for work in the morning? Did she start to have more events to go to without me? Did we make love less often, or was it less exciting? It maddened me that I couldnt see where it turned from one thing to another, from love into whatever it was that she was feeling now. Maybe it was like something left out in the sun too long, its color gradually fading away, unnoticeably from any day to the next but over time washed out of all its vibrancy. It made me wonder if it had ever been what Id thought it was.
Bridget came a few days later, thank goodness. I was so happy to see her that I almost forgot the circumstances. I hugged her and got all misty eyed, and I think she did too. Still, neither one of us quite knew what to say, so we tried to focus on the task at hand: unraveling the history that this house had accumulated over our familys life there. Kathryn had given Bridget a very specific list of the things she wanted, which was very little. None of the furniture, for example. Most of her remaining clothes, some of our photographs, and some other assorted keepsakes, none of which I felt like denying her. I wondered but dared not ask Bridget what it meant that Kathryn didnt want any of the furniture. Did she plan to go to the expense of buying an entire new set of furniture, or had she moved in with someone who came equipped? It was madness to think about it, and I tried to put it out of my head as best I could, which wasnt very good. I could see that Bridget was worried about me as well, especially since she was just finding out that I was also mysteriously unemployed. After a few wary attempts on her part to broach the
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subject, we quickly came to an unspoken understanding: if I wouldnt try to ask her about her mom, she wouldnt ask me why Id lost my job or what I was going to do next. It wasnt an agreement that either of us was too happy about, but it was the only way we were going to get through sorting out the house. Kathryn had also made up a list of all the places that had to get notified. Shed apparently informed her bank, credit cards, and other personal accounts, but for obvious reasons hadnt done anything with mine, or the utilities. Still, shed been kind of enough to take the time to prepare a thorough list of account numbers and addresses. All I had to do was do a mail merge on the form letter shed left on my computer. Bridget reminded me that I also had to think about where I was going to live. Id known that I was going to have to leave the house, but I hadnt really thought about what I should do about it. While I had come to recognize that my old life was over, I couldnt really imagine what my new life would be like. Once Bridget realized I hadnt done anything about new living arrangements, she took me out to scout out a temporary situation for me. I was all for getting one of those furnished suites on a month-by-month basis, but practical Bridget gently admonished me that it was silly for me to pay for furniture when I had a houseful of it that I could pick from. We found a two-bedroom place in a big complex on the edge of town, rented it for immediate occupancy, and went back to the house to resume our sorting duties. We slowly went through the house tagging everything: yellow tags on the things for Kathryn, blue tags on those things for my new place, green tags identifying things to put in storage, and red tags for all the remaining things that we were getting rid of. The house became a sea of red, and it was amazing to me that items which just a week ago had been beloved processions were now just things for someone else, anonymous buyers who would not know or care where they came from or what theyd meant to us. Bridget and I kept a running battle on what I should keep. Shed say, oh, this would look nice in your new living room, or youll want some dishes things like that.
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Most of the time shed lose, but she kept at it and the scattered blue tags mapped out the contours of my new apartment. She also pressed me to think not just about the apartment but what Id want when I eventually got a house again, urging me to put more into storage instead of just getting rid of it. Mostly she failed here too, but every once in a while Id relent. Photo albums, some art wed liked, some of the furniture Id made were put on the survival list. The only time she really seemed surprised was about my workshop. Sell it, I told her dispassionately when we reached that part of the house. Sell it? she replied, her eyes widening in surprise. Sell what? Youve got a lot of stuff down here. I surveyed the room, my little kingdom where Id spent so much time working so hard on making things for my family. Id accumulated it tool by tool, gaining skills with them slower than I accumulated the tools themselves but gaining those skills nonetheless. It had given me such pleasure to learn how to build things, to see the finished products and, even more, to see them in use by my family. Those pleasures seemed hollow to me now. The things I had built had lasted, but the thing for which I had built them had not. They were useless, as was all this. Sell it all, I repeated. I dont want any of it. But dad -- I dont want any of it, I interrupted her. It doesnt matter to me anymore. I could see that she wanted to argue with me. Her mouth parted as though she was going to say something more, then she paused and seemed to gather herself. Are you sure? she asked at last, looking at me thoughtfully. I nodded.
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All right, if thats what you want, she said. She clearly was unhappy with my decision, but knew better than to argue further. Why dont you go upstairs and finish up in the family room. Ill take care of this.
Throughout all this I never stopped brooding about Brooke Haywood. I couldnt prove that shed had anything to do with Kathryns departure, but such was my state of mind that I didnt see anything that disproved it either. It was the only explanation that salvaged anything. Kathryn leaving because she thought Id had an affair or had behaved improperly I could understand that, even if I was hurt, she wouldnt have cared enough to confront me directly. Her leaving because she fell out of love with me, or worse yet had never really loved me was harder to believe. So if only to help myself get through all this, I built ever more detailed stories about Brooke calling Kathryn to lie to her, maybe even showing up at our house when I wasnt around. I could see Brooke putting on that innocent face, acting all righteous and hurt, pretending I was some monster that Kathryn needed to know about. It was when I was calling to cancel my newspapers that I started to go a little crazy. The papers all had automated systems that let you punch in your phone number and then you could cancel your subscription or do whatever you wanted without ever having to talk to a human being who might question you. Id canceled two of mine when I got the idea that two could play the harassment game. I looked up Brookes telephone number and called the local newspapers automated line. Sure enough, she had an account, and with some trepidation I hit the appropriate numbers to cancel it. When I finished I hung up the phone with an odd feeling. This was crossing the line. I knew it was wrong and yet Id done it without really thinking much about it. Moreover, I didnt feel all that guilty about it, and that troubled me as much as anything. Bridget was sitting on the couch nearby going through some old photos and she glanced up when I got off the phone. She must have noticed something different. Whats up, dad?
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I started involuntarily, then forced myself to relax and smile. Nothing, dear. Its just all hitting me, I guess. She looked so sad that it broke my heart what few unbroken pieces were left, anyway and put the album down in her lap. She leaned forward. Are you OK? I thought back to what Id just done. Id caused Brooke some minor inconvenience, and shed never know it was me. It was the smallest of things, in the big scheme of things, but now I was the one doing something to her. It felt curiously refreshing. Wrong, perhaps, but refreshing anyway. Yes, Bridge, I think Im starting to get used to this.
Chapter 9 I started stalking Brooke the next day. It took most of the day for the movers to pack up the house, sorting things by the tags Bridget and I had so carefully attached. I tried to stay out of the way while she oversaw things. When I thought about it, it wasnt as odd as it seemed, because shed certainly had more experience moving than I did, especially recently. It made me feel both proud and old to see how adult she seemed, directing them like a pro. When it was all said and done the house was vacant. The ghosts of our lives floated around, unseen but felt, and it was creepier than I can describe. The house seemed so empty that I couldnt stand to be there another second. I was glad to have the excuse to take Bridget to the airport. Thanks so much for everything, I told her, giving her a solid hug. I dont know how I could have managed without you. She patted my back tenderly. Dad, Im glad to do whatever I can. I wish I could stay to help you move in too.
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I pulled back and held her at arms length. Youve already done more than its fair to ask you to do. Im sorry all this is happening, and Im especially sorry youre affected by it too. Your mom and I would never want you to be hurt. I know. Her eyes teared up and mine did too, so we hugged again. When did you become so grown-up, my dear? How did you learn to be so adult? Her voice sounded soft and faraway, although she was inches from me. I had some good teachers, dad. You and mom.
Once she was away safely I drove to Exly and waited. It was almost six when I arrived but I was counting on Brooke working late. I pulled into the parking lot of a complex next to Exly and waited for people to come out of the door to the parking lot. I saw several people I knew, and it hurt to be slouching here furtively in my car while old friends and coworkers continued on with their lives like everything was normal. It was, for them; my absence hadnt changed their lives in the least. One thing I was lucky about: I spotted Brooke leaving, walking briskly by herself to her car. She had a sedate Honda Civic; no sunroof or styling, just your basic mode of dependable transportation. I started my car and followed her at a safe distance. I didnt really have a plan. I believed she was the cause of my troubles and I wanted her to suffer for that. I didnt know how, but I wanted her to suffer too. Perhaps I could get some dirt on her. If she was evil enough to ruin my career and my marriage, the goody two-shoes image she had at work had to be phony. It just had to be. She must have some secrets, and if I could find those out Id be in position to ruin her life too. It was more of a wish than a plan, but at least it gave me something to do.
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She drove to an apartment complex not unlike my new residence, although a bit nicer. I pulled up not too far away and watched her get out of her car and enter one of the units. Then I waited. I was hoping shed come back out, maybe for dinner or something, or perhaps a boyfriend better yet, two boyfriends -- would come over. As Id said, I still didnt really have a plan, but for the moment waiting outside her apartment felt like I was doing something. After a couple hours of waiting I was dead bored and had to go to the bathroom. I decided she was in for the night, so I drove to my new apartment. I have to admit that I made a couple of wrong turns in the complex, as all the buildings pretty much looked alike and the streets had similar sounding names. Once I managed to locate the right building and the right apartment, I went to sleep on the floor, since my furniture wouldnt be delivered for another day.
I woke in the middle of the night in a dead sweat. At first I couldnt figure out where I was, or why Kathryn wasnt with me. I thought perhaps I was in a hotel on a business trip; I never sleep well away from home. Then all too quickly I remembered where I was and why I was there, and that little apartment felt suffocating. My heart was pounding, my head hurt, and I was sweating like crazy. I feared I might be having a heart attack, although the small remaining rational part of my brain coolly dismissed that possibility. What made it worst of all is that I didnt know who I would call for help. Id lie here and die and no one would know it. No one would care. I had no wife, no coworkers, not even any neighbors who knew me. I was all alone. Id never been truly alone before. My parents, my college roommates, Kathryn there had always been people living with me who cared about me. The neighbors behind the too-thin walls of this new apartment building didnt know me well and cared for me even less. If I died, it would mean nothing to them or to anyone else. I would just lay here rotting away. Eventually, I supposed, the neighbors might complain about the smell, or maybe Bridget would get worried and fly up to see why I wasnt answering the phone. I shuddered to imagine the horror of finding my cold, decaying body.
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It was, of course, just a panic attack. I knew that, but knowing it didnt help. I spent the rest of the night in a fitful half-sleep, listening to the strange noises in my new apartment, and wishing life could just go back to normal. In my old life, I used to wonder, every so often, what it would be like to be alone. It didnt happen often, and when it did it was usually after Bridget had moved away and on one of the nights Kathryn was out at one of her functions. Sitting all alone in our big but comfortable home, Id think of how glad I was to be married. Not just because I loved Kathryn, although I did. Not even because I liked being married, although, in fact, I did like that very much as well. No, my moments of worry about it were caused by my utter certainty that if Kathryn were gone Id be alone the rest of my life. Of course, I didnt really imagine the situation I was now in, where Kathryn up and left. I thought about more in the context of when we were older, and if Kathryn should be the first to die. I thought it was more likely that Id go first, and I hoped it would happen that way. She was better on her own, made friends easier, and seemed like shed do just fine. Most of the people I knew were because of work or friendships that Kathryn really fostered. She was my green card to the adult world, so to speak. It was easy for her. I was just there on probation, through her good graces. I thought that Id have a harder time maintaining these friendships or forming new ones without her. And as for meeting a new woman, having her be attracted to me, falling in love and getting remarried it made me shudder to think about it. That fateful day Gary had goaded me had convinced me beyond a shadow of a doubt of that. Women didnt look twice at me, and I knew Id never have the nerve to ask someone out. It all seemed so easy for other people to fall in love in the movies, but I knew that was fiction and my life was unerringly fact. I was alone now and I was going to be alone. .
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The next day I was outside Brookes apartment by seven in the morning. I followed her back to Exly. She didnt even stop to get coffee. I came back around lunchtime, and sat there in vain for over two hours, finally deciding she was either skipping lunch or eating in. After work my interest was piqued when she went in a new direction. She drove to a health club, pulled out a gym bag from her trunk and went inside. I couldnt follow her inside, of course, so again I waited outside. I was hoping shed emerge with some guy shed just picked up, and drive to her apartment for some wild sex. Id even brought a camera just in case, not that she kept her curtains open. But she emerged at last, alone again, and headed straight home. Basically, over the next few days I learned that Brooke Haywood led a pretty boring life. Aside from going to the post office one day at lunch and the grocery store after work one night, her routine didnt vary much. Even more boring than her life was watching it. Sitting in the car got old really fast. I felt like a pervert sitting around waiting, especially in the parking lot of her complex. I had to move my car periodically to not let her neighbors or, worse yet, the security patrol notice me. During the days, while she was at work, I thought about things I could do to her. I suppose if Id gotten her social security number I could have inflicted all sorts of havoc on her. I thought of breaking into her mailbox and seeing what I could learn about her from her mail, but I knew then Id be breaking a federal law and I wasnt quite ready to go that far. I thought about trying to replicate my success with her papers by canceling her telephone service or even her utilities, but I wasnt sure they had automated numbers the way that the newspapers had. I hatched all sorts of plots, but I was out of luck unless my surveillance turned up something I could use to smear her with. It wasnt looking too promising. I was curious how shed spend the weekend, and made sure I was at her apartment complex bright and early. She came out about nine, carrying the gym bag and evidently on her way to the gym. I dutifully followed her to her gym, and sat outside for the hour and a half she was inside. I was wondering if I was going to have to join the gym to spy
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on her from the inside, but I worried that Id be too easy for her to spot. She thankfully broke my deliberations by emerging at last, only she didnt head home. Brooke drove back towards town, pulling into a large park. I was curious why shed be going to a park. She had changed into shorts and a blouse, so I doubted she was going for a jog. Perhaps she was going to take a walk, although why she would do that after working out I didnt know. I waited until she was heading into the park before getting out of my car and following her. She headed vigorously towards one of the open areas, and it didnt take much detecting skills to deduce who she was heading for. She waved enthusiastically at a young woman reclining on a blanket. There was a small basket sitting next to the woman. So it was to be a picnic. It was a lovely day for a picnic 70s and sunny, with some fluffy white clouds floating by but I was more interested in her companion than in the forecast. Even from a distance, she looked quite lovely. There was something about her that, even at a distance, made it hard for me to take my eyes off of her. She had long, dark hair that looked thick yet soft, pulled back into a long ponytail, and she sat with perfect posture. She was wearing shorts, and her legs looked long and firm as she leaned back on her arms. As she caught sight of Brooke, her face lit up, and I dont think Id ever seen a face so alive. She waved towards Brooke but did not get up. Brooke leaned over to kiss her, and sat down next to her and the two of them started talking animatedly. Now this was promising. Brooke Haywood had a lover? A female lover? Being gay isnt anything too damaging in this day and age, but it certainly would be at odds with the persona she had cultivated at work. I sat down on a park bench far enough away that it wasnt likely theyd spot me, but close enough to keep an eye on them. The park was busy, which helped me not stand out too much. I wished Id thought to bring along a newspaper or a book, anything that would disguise the sad fact that I was a middle aged man spying on people in the park. God forbid some cop think I was a child molester or something and create a scene that would draw Brookes attention to me. I
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tried to pretend that I was relaxing, just enjoying the day and watching the pretty girls walk by, all the while keeping track of Brookes picnic with her new friend. There was a small playground off to my right, and I was periodically distracted by the children playing there. There was a particularly cute little girl there with her mother. The girl looked four or so and was holding some balloons in her hand. I was struck with memories of playing with Bridget. She loved balloons too. She was fascinated that they could float, and be both amused and annoyed by how easily they could burst. She would sometimes let them go and look up to me expectantly, waiting for her heroic father to chase the balloons down. Which, of course I did my best to do, not always successfully but gamely trying to make my little girl happy. Now my little girl was an adult, helping her parents navigate the rocky shoals of a marriage somehow gone bad. I hoped this one had better luck with her parents. I tried to figure out Brookes relationship with the other woman. They seemed comfortable together, making easy conversation. I couldnt hear what they were talking about, but it didnt seem like theyd just met. They had neither the awkwardness of a first date nor the extra energy of people in the initial stages of getting involved. Whatever their relationship was, theyd had it for some time. Mommy! a girls voice cried out in alarm. I looked over to see the cause of the alarm, and saw my young friend had lost one of her balloons. There wasnt much wind but it was slowly drifting away from the young girl and her mother. The mother seemed disinclined to give it chase, which caused the young girl to cry out again in anguish. It doesnt take much to cause a tragedy at that age. Oh, hell, I thought. I could picture the girls tears and decided there was already enough unhappiness in the world. The balloon was not yet out of reach, and it didnt look like the mother was going to go after it. At least it wasnt helium, so it meandered along the ground instead of floating up into the sky. There was still a chance to catch it. I vaulted
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off of my bench and took off after it, hoping to get to the string before the balloon had drifted out of my reach. I ran as fast as I could, thankful for those nights of chasing after a tennis ball, and managed to grab onto the string with a desperate lunge. Smiling like a fool, I walked over towards the little girl and her mom. The little girl was not quite sure how to react to me, and her mother was similarly torn between gratitude and wariness. Here, I said, handing the balloon back to the girl. Hang on tight this time. I turned to the mother. I have a girl myself, although shes way past the age for balloons. I didnt want your girl to go home unhappy. She thanked me and I wandered away, hoping my little outburst hadnt attracted too much attention. At least Brookes little picnic appeared undisturbed. I took up a new spot, this time under a tree, and resumed my vigil. They did seem to be finishing up, packing up the basket. Then a curious thing happened. Brooke stood up, and leaned over to pull something off of the ground from behind the other woman. It looked like a chair, and I wondered why they were unfolding a chair just now. Then I saw, as Brooke helped the woman into the chair. It was a wheelchair.
Chapter 10 The movies had prepared me all wrong for this spying business. The hard part wasnt keeping Brooke from noticing me. She evidently had no reason to be on the lookout for someone stalking her, and I quickly found that she didnt seem to have much to hide about her life. I remained nervous about attracting the attention of neighbors, passersby, or scariest of all, policemen but fortunately being white and seemingly prosperous made me fairly invisible, at least if I took simple precautions like moving every so often. So I was able to follow Brooke around without too much effort as she moved from one
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part of her daily life to the next, these movements quickly forming into predictable patterns that I was able to decipher and prepare for. As hard as it was, the boredom wasnt the hardest part either. Id been intellectually ready for it, but those long hours of waiting while nothing happened did take a little getting used to. The movies show valiant detectives on a stakeout and allude to how mundane it is, but since no movie is going to show two hours of just sitting around, one cant really get a good idea of what it is like until one does it. Of course, little things like eating and going to the bathroom became major obsessions. I soon learned to bring along snacks and water, but the bathroom break was tougher to figure out. I refused to piss into a cup, as I knew fictional detectives sometimes resort to, which just meant I had to risk detouring from my observation to find a suitable restroom. It was a little challenge, keeping an eye open for someplace I could duck into while anticipating what Brooke might do while I was out of sight from her. It was physically uncomfortable, of course. Sitting so long was hard and made me quite sore when I finally stood up. It was hot in my car too, so Id sit there and sweat, adding to the list of things I had to blame Brooke for. Plus, these damn headaches had not only persisted, but had gotten worse. Id get up with a little headache, and by the end of the day my head was just pounding. The sunlight made things even worse, even if I wore sunglasses. Sometimes my vision would blur due to the intensity of the headache. I wasnt used to having headaches, and I wasnt sure why I was getting them now. So I ate Tylenol like it was candy, although it seemed to have little effect. No, the hard part was none of these problems. The hard part was all the time I had to think. Frankly, Brooke Haywood lived a pretty boring life. She worked, went to the gym a couple times a week, church on Sunday and choir practice Wednesday night, but that was about it aside from the woman in the wheelchair. I had way too much time on my hands to think about what my life had become. I tried to avoid dwelling on it, but those hours of boredom led me inexorably down roads that were pretty bumpy these days.
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Brooke and the woman went to the mall that first Saturday afternoon, ran some other errands, then retreated to Brookes apartment for the evening. They did not emerge until the following morning, confirming my suspicion that there was something between them. But after going to the grocery store Sunday morning, Brooke dropped the woman off at a building near the edge of downtown, went to church, and didnt see her again until the following weekend. Even then, they only went grocery shopping together; no dinner, no sleepovers. So I was left with the long hours Brooke was at work or at home, alone. She wasnt going clubbing, she didnt have any boyfriends, and if the woman in the wheelchair was a girlfriend, they had a pretty loose relationship. I started following her while Brooke was at work. Her friend has a less conventional life. She either didnt have a job, or worked at home. She went to the gym during the day several times a week, had lunch out most days, and even had leisurely coffee with friends in a well known coffee house near her building a few times. Her disability didnt seem to dissuade her from getting out, and I was amazed at how easily she could maneuver herself in and out of transportation be they friends cars, cabs, or the occasional bus. I only was able to follow her while I thought Brooke was at work, but I suspected that following her at night might be more interesting than following Brooke. I continued to spend my long hours obsessing over the things Id missed noticing in my marriage. I replayed every conversation I could remember with Kathryn, going back to the early days when I was pretty sure we were in love up to that night she walked out on me. Sometime in between then shed lost her feelings for me, and I felt sure that with hindsight I should be able to see when it happened. I had twenty six years of those conversations, twenty six years of what I had thought were generally good times, to think about, and it was maddening that I was unable to spot the cracks in our marriage. I would sit in my car, furtively trying to stay inconspicuous, and dwell on conversations from years ago, on touches that Kathryn made or didnt make. I tried to remember telephone calls Id overheard snatches of, or letters I didnt know the sender of. I was sitting in a
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car in the summer sun playing detective with Brooke Haywoods life, but all it really did was give me time to mentally try to deduce the failure of my marriage. Id sit there unconsciously twirling my wedding ring around my finger. It was a habit Id long had. Originally it had served as a comfort to me, reminding me of my life with my wife. It used to make me think about how lucky I was, and was physical evidence of Kathryn and all that she represented about the solidity and comfort my life had so Id thought. It was like a life preserver, keeping me afloat in the ocean of life. Now it seemed like a chain, locking me to the deadweight of a marriage I no longer had. I no longer had anything solid in my life, and Id be hard pressed to explain why I was still wearing the ring. Force of habit, perhaps, but even more likely it was like probing a sore tooth. You wonder about the pain, if it still hurts and if you can take it, so you poke at it and are surprised by the pain it causes. The ring did that to my psyche. Id have thought that all the blows Id taken would have made me numb to the pain, that it all would have made me feel incapable of feeling any more. That was wrong; I felt every pain, magnified beyond even the original. Of course, had I been doing something useful with my life like finding a new job, fixing up my new apartment, answering my mail or the occasional voice mails I still received I might have felt less acutely about my failures. Instead, I was probably doing exactly the worst thing I could do, spending useless time sitting by myself brooding. I hated having to go back to my apartment at night, and tried to delay it as long as possible. The complex was a big, sprawling place, surrounding by other apartment complexes, strip malls, and fast food places. If I was objective about it, there was nothing really wrong with it. Millions of everyday Americans lived in places much worse. There was a pool, tennis courts, a party room that was fairly fully occupied, so it must fit lots of peoples needs. Kathryn and I had certainly lived in worse places when we were starting out. That was the thing of it: it was a place for people starting out. People whose lives were on the way out, or those like mine whose lives were
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balancing on the edge of a recovery or a crash. That wasnt supposed to be me. I used to drive home to my castle, cross over the moat and pull up the drawbridge so I could relax in the comfort of my home. Well, the moat had been forded, the walls had been breeched, and the barbarians had made off with my wife. I was reduced to this. I tried to focus all this pain on Brooke. I tried to remember that she was the culprit here. Without her sexual harassment bullshit, Id still have a job. A large part of me believed that Id still have Kathryn too, that I could have persuaded her to stay or at least to talk things out. Losing my job had effectively castrated me, at least for that critical moment between when Kathryn was sitting at the kitchen table, still my wife, and when she walked out that door apparently forever. Brooke had to be evil to destroy a mans life like shed destroyed mine, and then just go to choir practice without any apparent misgivings or guilt whatsoever. I wondered about the woman in the wheelchair. The longer I followed her and Brooke, the more I doubted they were lovers. In my darker moments, when I was focusing all the blame for all that was wrong in my life on Brooke, I speculated that Brooke had destroyed her life. True, the woman didnt seem too destroyed she seemed much more cheerful and happy than Brookes more serious nature let her show but if Brooke had, for example, caused her to be crippled, that might explain their relationship. Brooke might feel guilty about what she had done to this woman. If that were indeed true, and I could find proof of it, that would make all this waiting worthwhile. I could take that back to Exly and publicly embarrass her, maybe even make her leave the city. If it were true. The more likely explanation was that they were simply old friends. They seemed to get along all right, seemed to know each other well, but there just wasnt that intimacy one expects from lovers. Im no expert on lesbians, and I understood that they often werent big on public displays of affection due to concern over social reactions, but these two just didnt have those little looks, those small touches, that help identify two people in love.
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I thought back to my marriage, and wondered if someone watching us in our last few years would have seen those things between Kathryn and I.
Chapter 11 It was about the gym that I went wrong. The first time Id followed the woman while Brooke was at work shed headed to a gym in the mid-morning, and I immediately wondered why a crippled woman would go to a gym. I wondered if maybe she was faking the disability; if so, it would definitely give me something I could use to hurt Brooke. Maybe she was faking it with Brooke, and I could prove it to her. Of course, I knew that it was unlikely that shed put an act on all day and night, then give it up just to workout, but I wasnt thinking entirely rationally at that point. Shed emerged a couple hours later that first day, and I started to get an idea. When she went to the same gym two days later, again in the mid-morning, I gave her a half hour head start, and wandered into the gym posing as an interested potential member. I wasnt being entirely devious. Sitting in the damn car was already proving deadly boring. The woman didnt know me, so I ran little risk of being spotted. If I joined, I could more closely observe what she was doing, maybe get some other clues about her life and her relationship to Brooke. And I could both take a break and get in some badly needed exercise. The gym was a so-called HealthPlex, run by one of the local hospital chains. It was large, modern, and well equipped, featuring not just the normal health club accoutrements but also physical therapy, healthy heart classes, and other post or pre-treatment options. Or so the attractive young membership representative explained to me, evidently judging that I was more likely to be a candidate for them than for their triathlon team. She cheerfully took me on a walking tour of the facility, during which I kept my eyes open for Brookes girlfriend. I didnt see her, but I did notice the surprising range of clientele.
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Since it was the middle of a work day, I expected to see a relatively older bunch of ambitious seniors, which I did, but the place was pretty active with a younger crowd as well, a surprising cross-section of people who evidently did not work a nine-to-five type of job. What do you think, Roger? the woman Carol, as she insisted I call her -- asked me once the tour was over and we were back at her desk. She smiled expectantly at me, looking quite fit and every bit the advertisement for their fitness expertise that the HealthPlex wanted her to promote. Her cheerfulness was slightly off-putting. Its very nice, I admitted. Im just not sure Im ready to take out a full membership. We discussed my ambivalence for several minutes. She was very polite and friendly, and must have had this same discussion several times a day as part of her job, but what she didnt know was that I had no income and that my only interest in her club was the woman in the wheelchair. That gave me an edge in the polite negotiation we were engaged in. We finally agreed upon a thirty-day trial membership, good for ten visits during that month. I figured if I didnt know what I needed to within a month Id have to try something else. I waited outside for my target to emerge, again clocking her workout at about two hours, and when she returned two days later I followed her in with my gym bag. I changed quickly, then took a leisurely tour on my own, failing to spot her. So I got on the treadmill for a few minutes, switched to the exercise bike for a while, then took another brief walk around. I caught a glimpse of her emerging from the physical therapy section into the pool. I watched her strap some kind of floatation device onto her legs, then ease herself into the pool, where she began to swim laps. Despite not having the use of her legs, she moved gracefully in the water, powering herself with strong arms that pulled her trailing, useless legs behind her. She had a nice body, I observed, feeling even more like a voyeur. It was one thing to follow someone in
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their car, but it was quite another to stand and watch a pretty woman in a swimsuit. Fortunately, I noticed I wasnt the only one. I caught at least two younger men glancing over at her, either not noticing or not concerned with my competing attention. I forced myself to move along. Over the next several visits I didnt learn much more. She usually disappeared into the physical therapy rooms for the first hour, then spent the rest of the time working out in the pool or on the Nautilus. She worked hard, but always had a quick smile or hello to people she knew. It amazed me how her faced warmed with pleasure at these little encounters, and how she left a wake of warmth in the faces of people on whom shed bestowed them. I didnt see her actually working out with anyone. When she worked, she worked, not sitting around chatting with other gym members, the way lots of other people did. She saved those for after her workouts, grabbing some water or juice in the little caf attached to the club with people she ran into, or just sitting alone. She took her workouts seriously, and I had to admire her for it. I had to admit, her hard work was evident in her body. It was firm and well toned, even her useless legs. Somewhere along the way she took notice of me. I think the first time was when she was getting out of the pool. I was standing by the door and was caught flat-footed when she looked up and noticed me. I stood for a second, and then beat a quick retreat into the mens locker room. On my next visit, though, she rolled by in her wheelchair when I was on the exercise bike, and, to my surprise, she nodded at me and actually smiled. I felt guilty, knowing I was betraying her friendliness, but also felt slightly pleased that shed smiled at me. Two days later she came by while I was running on the treadmill. This time she actually stopped and watched me for a few seconds. I was so flustered that I almost lost my rhythm. For a nano-second I had an image of me flying off the treadmill and crashing into the wall, but I fortunately recovered and kept my attention ahead of me. She moved on, and Id swear she had a small smile on her face.
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When she came up and started working out on the Nautilus machine on her next visit, though, it was harder to pretend she didnt exist. She caught my eye when I was finishing some repetitions and actually smiled at me. Good job, she said approvingly. I nodded curtly back at her and got up, going over to the rowing machines where she was not likely to follow and upon which conversation was more difficult. She watched me go, then went to work herself. I spent a few minutes rowing, and after a decent period of time I fled to the mens locker room to shower and change. That was a Friday, the end of the third week Id been following Brooke and this woman. Three weeks isnt a long time to learn about someones life, especially someone who lived as sedate a life as Brooke Haywood did, but I was growing fairly discouraged that I was going to find anything useful. About the only bright spots in my long hours of surveillance were these visits to the gym. Now that she had started to recognize me, I thought I might have to stop coming here; I couldnt risk the chance that shed see me following her with Brooke. I should have gone to my car, where I could safely recover my wits. Instead, though, I figured I had another half hour or so before she would be done, so I gave myself the luxury of getting some juice at the little caf. It was a small place, with about ten small tables, but it had a great assortment of juices and smoothies, plus coffee, some salads, and even some baked goods. The club members used it to unwind and to socialize, and it did a steady business throughout the day. Id started going there to get something to rehydrate after my workouts, preparing for the long droughts ahead in my car. There were a handful of others sitting around enjoying themselves, but taking no note of me. Id gotten used to my anonymity. I was sitting there thinking about the futility of my little spy game when who should come rolling in literally but the woman I was supposed to be following. My hand stopped halfway on its way to my mouth, holding my cup like a beggar pleading for spare change. I prayed she didnt notice me and slowly put my drink down. I debated if I
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could slip out while she was ordering. She didnt seem to be paying any attention to me, but I feared shed look up if I stood up suddenly. I pretended to pay close attention to my cup. I heard her stop and talk to a couple of the staff members a young man and a young woman who were sitting there in their shorts and clean white polo shirts with the HealthPlex logo embroidered on them. They seemed to know her well, and sounded pleased to talk to her. The guy behind the counter also welcomed her cheerfully, and I heard him call her Callie. So I now finally knew her name. She chatted with him for a couple minutes as well. I sat there and pretended to be engrossed in my juice, hoping she was getting something to go. I assumed I was invisible to her. I didnt know her, and I was way too old for her or the other young people to notice me. That usually did the trick. I thought about how much interest Bridget would get from the young guys if she were here, and it made me smile just slightly. Mind if I join you? I heard a few seconds later. I looked up slowly, and she was there, right in front of my table. She looked just fresh from the shower, which she undoubtedly was. Her hair was wet and combed out, and her face was flushed with the healthy glow young people get from a good workout. I probably just looked as drained as I suddenly felt. She was wearing shorts, a sleeveless top that didnt quite reach her waist, and some sports sandals. I noticed that her toenails were painted bright red, and in the moments I should have been formulating an escape plan I remember thinking instead about how incongruous it seemed for someone without the use of her feet to decorate them like that. I was struck again with how attractive she looked and even more by the sense of sheer life force she palpably radiated. In response to her question, I looked around the caf, as if noting all the empty tables. Trying to remain calm, I shrugged. Sure. Suit yourself.
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She pulled closer to the table and put her cup on the table. She was having coffee, I noticed absently, as she poured two containers of cream in her cup. She added two packs of sweetener in it, stirred the mixture until it had achieved the desired level of light brown consistency. Then she looked up at me and smiled sweetly. Im Callie. I didnt really know what to say. I didnt really want to give her my name, but no false name came immediately to mind. Plus, if she ever checked my ID badge shed see my real name anyway, and shed be doubly suspicious. Id just have to hope my name wouldnt ring any bells. Roger. Her eyes sparkled as she took in this new fact. Roger. Youre new here, right? Im on a trial membership. Youre on trial, or the clubs on trial? Her face showed amusement. I had to laugh at that. Umm, Im just seeing if I like the place. She nodded, trying to repress a smile. Whats the verdict so far? Well, I began cautiously, trying to feel my out of this conversation. Its pretty nice. But not great, she concluded. Her eyes sparkled with humor, making her even more attractive. What about the members? She seemed serious enough, but I had to stare at her to see if she was implying anything. Her face was guileless. Ahh, they seem pretty nice too, I told her at last. She studied me for a few seconds, then took a drink of her coffee. She put the cup down and leaned forward slightly. Youre not too good at this, are you?
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That tore it she must have caught on to my following her. I cursed myself for being so stupid; joining the health club had been foolhardy. I should have stayed in my car and kept watch from distance, rather than trying to get closer. Or, frankly, trying to slip in some distractions during those long hours of nothing to do. Still, she didnt seem all that upset. In fact, she continued to seem amused by the whole thing. I decided to try to bluff it out a little longer. Not too good at what? She laughed, and her laughter was almost musical. At picking up girls, of course. Youre not too good at it, are you? My mouth must have dropped. Picking up I sputtered, unable to even finish the sentence. Now Callies brow wrinkled and her smile faded. You were trying to pick me up, werent you? I noticed you watching me. My head shook slowly from side to side almost of its own volition. It was inconceivable to me that this woman this young and beautiful woman had thought Id been trying to pick her up. Id been trying to keep her from noticing me. Now her face fell, and it was terrible to watch. Until that moment I dont think Id fully realized how animated her face normally was, how alert and happy shed always seemed. It wasnt until its absence that I truly noticed the presence. I dont suppose you would, she said in a tight voice. Her face dropped towards her legs. I saw you watching me. You were probably thinking about these. Her head came up suddenly with a sad expression on her face. You think Im just a cripple? Not a woman just a cripple? Its not what you think, I told her, knowing I was just getting in deeper trouble for myself. She looked at me suspiciously. What is it, then?
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Well, I could have told her that I was only interested in her because of her relationship with Brooke. I could have told her that Id have used anything I learned about her to damage Brooke, and not think too much about the effect it might have on her along the way. Somehow I didnt think that would go over too well. So I thought of another, more acceptable story, which had the advantage of being true as well. Well, I was wondering how you keep your legs looking so good. For a moment she continued to regard me suspiciously, not sure if I was making fun of her or not. Then, somehow satisfied I was serious, a slow smile returned to her face, and it was like watching the sun come up. I think I might have fallen a little in love with her at that moment. See -- you are good at this. What a sweet thing to say. No, I meant it, I protested. I know, she said, her smile broadening. Thats why its so good. So why werent you trying to pick me up? I was nonplused. Um, because youre way too young and way too beautiful for me. Id never expect that youd give me the time of day. Well, thank you, she said, appearing flattered at the compliment. I decided right then and there that I quite liked this girl. Most beautiful women know that they are beautiful; theyve been told that by attentive and desirous men their whole lives. They expect constant compliments as their due. By contrast, Callie seemed surprised and pleased, as though I was the first one to ever say something like that to her. Plus, your wife might not appreciate it, she added, catching sight of my wedding ring and nodding her head towards it significantly. Id been foolish to keep wearing it, and in my nervousness I was twisting it around my finger. Which normally is OK, unless youre talking to a pretty young woman who
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thinks that you want to ask her out. I didnt quite know what to say, so I told her the truth. Well, actually, Im separated. My wife is divorcing me. She looked concerned but not surprised. I suspected that shed heard that line before, even if not always truthfully. Im sorry to hear that. I was too. We each took a drink, not knowing quite how to follow up that line of conversation. I broke the ice. If you dont mind my asking, how do you keep your legs looking so fit? She explained that she joined the club primarily because of its physical therapy program. She had a physical therapist work on her for an hour three days a week, twisting, prodding, and otherwise working her legs. They even used electrical stimulation to keep the muscles from wasting away. We talked for several minutes about her exercise regime, which included the swimming, weights, and workouts at home, and for the first time since my whole nightmare started I stopped thinking about myself. Oh, my gosh, she said, looking at her wristwatch. Ive got to go my ride is waiting. She grabbed a napkin and quickly scrawled something on it, and pushed it towards me. Listen theres my number. Call me. Before I could respond she started to push away from the table. She hadnt gotten a couple feet away before she stopped herself. She got what can only be called an impish expression on her face, and moved back towards the table. Give me another napkin, she commanded. I complied, only to have her take out her pen and hand the napkin and the pen over to me. I dont know what I was thinking, giving you my number. Youll never call.
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I was about to protest -- although she was probably right that Id never have called, even if the situation wasnt so complicated -- when she flashed a daring smile and held up her hand to interrupt me. So give me your number.
Chapter 12 I didnt follow her. I no longer had the heart. I sat there while she drove away or rolled away or whatever she did, going to wherever she was going to do whatever she was going to do. The thing was, I liked her. Id only talked to her for a few moments but damned if I didnt like her. A lot. Shed been nice to me when there was no reason for her to be, and I had the feeling that she was nice to people generally. Perhaps I wouldnt have rushed to judgment like that if I hadnt spent the last couple weeks following her. I really hadnt learned that much about her during that time, but just from watching her I could already tell that she didnt let her disability stop her life. I still hadnt figured out if she worked, or what she might do if she did, but my bet was that she had a job and was good at it. What I now knew for sure was that I didnt mean this woman any harm. Where that left me in regards to Brooke, I wasnt sure. I stayed long enough in the caf that the counterman came over to see if I was all right. Oh, he couched it by asking if I wanted anything else, but I was pretty sure he thought Id lost it. No, I replied, thinking that if he knew how lost I really was hed really have been worried about me. Im good. With that I collected my thoughts and headed out. Since I wasnt going to follow Callie, and Brooke was still at work, I headed to my new apartment. Id spent as little time there as I could the last two weeks, basically just sleeping there. It was an all right place, I suppose. It was a decent size, with two bedrooms, two baths, even a small balcony. The complex had a pool and a clubhouse. People could live here, even families. The other residents seemed happy there. They went about their business, going to work, making
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dinner, even playing with their kids. There was a family of four in the apartment next to mine. Id seen the mother with her kids when Id moved in, and had run across the father going to work when I was going off to stalk Brooke in the morning. When I came home late at night I imagined them sleeping in their beds and waiting for the next day. The kids would get up sleepily, then quickly burst into that youthful energy and enthusiasm that I remembered Bridget having at that age -- hell, that she still had. Those people had a life. Those people had a future. I hated it here. What did I have? I sat there all afternoon brooding about that question. I sorted through the few pieces of mail I had, and even half-heartedly made a few telephone calls to a couple old friends, or people Id once thought of as friends. Whether it was whatever theyd heard about me or whatever they heard in my voice, sympathy was in short supply. Oh, they acted like they were still my friends, but when it came to actions their offers quickly grew alarmingly vague. So a new job or anything remotely resembling my old life seemed as impossible as becoming an astronaut or an NBA player. All I had left in my life was my daughter and my desire for revenge on Brooke Haywood. Bridget no doubt would have abhorred the latter, so even these two remaining pieces of my life were fundamentally at odds. I didnt want to burden Bridget with my problems, with how my life had spiraled out of control. She knew it had taken a major turn for the worse, but she would assume that I was taking action to correct it. I couldnt face telling her that I didnt see how I could ever do that, not while this white whale of an obsession about getting revenge on Brooke stayed with me. So, really, that obsession was all I had left. I saw my days lay out ahead of me those long hours in the car, the constant waiting, waiting, waiting following Brooke on the lame hope that I could somehow identify a weakness that I could hurt her with. It was a fools errand. But I was a fool.
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I drove back to Exly about five, and watched for Brooke to leave. Hey, it was Friday night, maybe shed go score some cocaine and I could get her arrested. Maybe shed kidnap a small child and I could expose her for a pedophile. Unless it was something surprising like that, I was becoming dubious that anything productive would come out of my futile efforts. I was almost startled when she did emerge, got in her car, and simply headed home. I followed her at a safe distance, knowing full well how to get there and pretty sure she was in for the night. As it turned out, I was wrong. She came back out less than an hour later, changed into slacks and a light sweater. I followed her, and soon with a sinking heart I figured out where she was going. She was going to Callies apartment. I almost let her go. I really didnt want to follow Callie anymore. I wanted to leave her out of the sordid mess between Brooke and me. She didnt deserve my revenge. She hadnt done anything wrong to me. I thought that I should close off that part of Brookes life and leave them alone for the evening. But I didnt. They went out to dinner at a restaurant on the river. It was a nice night, and they sat outside in the comfortable night air. From the parking lot I could just make them out. They seemed relaxed and engaged in ongoing conversation. At one point a waitress seemed to surprise them by delivering a round of drinks. There was a long discussion, but even from my vantage point I could guess that the waitress was telling them that someone had bought them for them. Sure enough, a couple minutes later a handsome young man came up, smiling broadly and introducing himself. I thought maybe this was the side of Brooke that I hadnt seen going out on the town and getting picked up by strange men. Callie seemed amused by the whole thing, but I quickly realized Brooke wasnt having any of it. She looked tense and didnt seem interested in talking to the young man. The young man quickly was sent packing, and I had the definite sense that it was Brooke who had sent him away.
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After dinner they went to a late movie at a nearby multiplex, and again I had a couple hours to sit in the car and ponder the stupidity of my actions. I considered watching a movie myself while they were, but I didnt want to risk showing up in their theater or missing them if their movie got out before mine did. Frankly, I didnt think I could have paid attention to the damn thing anyway. I was getting good at sitting in the car watching, but my attention span for doing anything else had gone all to hell. After the movie they headed towards Callies apartment building, but Brooke parked the car and they went instead to the local coffee house on her block. It was called Brewed Heaven, and had long been a local institution of sorts. From its beginnings as a hippie hangout in the sixties, it had survived the Peace Generation through the dark disco years, the Reagan yuppies, even the Internet geeks of the nineties and had now reinvented itself as a cybercafe/coffee house, it had transformed itself with the times and survived. It hung on as the neighborhood ebbed and flowed, mostly ebbing but now again starting to thrive as a hotbed of local artists and other creative sorts, who lived and worked side-byside with the residents who probably had never been further than a few blocks away. It was mostly notable for its eccentric clientele and its long hours, but it was known as serving a pretty fair cup of coffee. Even at that hour, it was almost half full, with a typical assortment of characters old, young, wealthy, poor, white, black, and everything in-between. Id gotten coffee here a couple times while waiting for Callie to emerge for her day, and, in fact, Kathryn and I had actually been here once or twice in our younger days, before Bridget came along. Looking at the place now, I was amazed it had lasted as long as it had. The furniture had accumulated over the years, an odd collection of beat-up tables, worn-in couches and armchairs, and art for sale done by the local artists who frequented the place. If this neighborhood gentrified any further Starbucks would move in and Brewed Heaven would have another challenge to overcome. Still, Starbucks would have a hard time replicating its quirky atmosphere and loyal clientele.
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I parked a half block down, across the street and between the streetlights, where I could watch them both in the coffee shop and when they eventually went back to Callies. Inside, they joined a mixed group of other young men and women that they seemed to know. Callie seemed to know them better, because she picked up the conversation while Brooke seemed subdued. She was clearly the satellite to Callies star, and I wondered how she felt about that. Watching the people in Brewed Heaven, I was both envious and resentful. Most of the people were in groups, like Callie and Brooke, but even the few by themselves seemed part of something. It was a social place, a place where people belonged and enjoyed each others company. They sat there in the company of other people, talking, working on their laptops or just sipping their fancy coffee drinks thinking about whatever. By contrast, I was sitting in a parked car by myself, with no friends, no family, no real home to go to. They all looked like they had futures, making me feel even bleaker about my own. I wanted to drive away but their sheer vitality seemed to sap my own strength, so I just sat and watched for what, I was no longer sure. The skies had clouded over, and every once in a while I heard the distant rumble of thunder. It was going to rain, I thought, contemplating having to sit in my car while rain poured down. Oh, well, I thought; at least itd be something different. It was almost one in the morning when the two women departed. They stood well, Brooke stood while Callie sat outside the coffee shop, saying goodbye to their friends before heading off. I shifted in my seat to watch them go back to Callies building. This wasnt the greatest neighborhood, so two women one of them in a wheelchair seemed like easy targets. I felt some anger at Callies friends for not offering to escort them back to her building, and so I paid close attention, keeping a lookout for any miscreants who might wish them harm. Brooke just walked Callie to the door, then leaned over to kiss her goodbye on the cheek before turning around and walking back to her car. I slouched down in my seat, but still could see Callie watching Brooke get back to her car, before turning and unlocking her buildings front door.
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I was debating how long to give Brooke before I started my car when all of a sudden someone grabbed me through my open window and dragged me out.
Chapter 13 It was astounding. One minute I was sitting safely in my car, and the next minute I was yanked through the window, then shoved up against my own car door, face pressed firmly against the frame. If I didnt feel the scrapes on my sides from being squeezed through the window frame I might have thought Id been magically transported outside my car. Im no giant, but pulling a sitting man of my size up and out of a car window was a pretty amazing show of strength. I could not see my abductor. He leaned against me, using his body to flatten me against the car door and rendering me immobile, apparently just in case the shock of the whole thing didnt suffice. I felt him rooting around in my pocket for my wallet, and my peabrain finally figured it out: I was being robbed. For all my concern about Callie, Id somehow neglected to watch out for myself. That was, in some way, the final straw, the last indignity. Tears started to stream out of my eyes. Take it, I told him. I felt utterly defeated. Take it all. I felt his mass move away from me, and I slumped to the ground like my legs were melting rubber. Without looking up, I unstrapped my watch. Take it, too, I said between my tears in a subdued tone. I lifted my arm to gesture at the car. Hell, the keys are in the ignition, so you might as well take the car too. Take it all. Ive lost everything else. I dont care anymore.
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There was a moment of silence. I was sobbing and not really paying much attention, but I gradually became aware that the man had crouched down across from me. He didnt say a word until I looked up warily. What do you mean? he asked curiously. He was a young black man. I recognized him from Brewed Heaven, where he worked behind the counter. Id seen him a few times while watching Callie. He was a good looking guy, well built and clean cut, and whatever impression Id formed of him while seeing him serve customers coffee or pick up used cups, I hadnt thought hed be a criminal. Yet here he was, having assaulted me and now crouching across from me holding my wallet open. Just take my stuff. I dont care. I wont even press charges. Curiously, instead of taking me up on my offer he looked inside my wallet and pulled out my drivers license. He inspected it in the half-light. What are you doing here this time of night, Mr. Sinclair? It was an odd question, or, rather, it was an appropriate question for someone else. It just was an odd question for a robber to be asking his victim, unless he just wanted to torment me. His voice was calm, something I could not match in my response. I told you. I dont care. Ive lost everything else, so why would I care about a wallet or a watch? Or a car, he replied, with what I thought was an amused tone of voice. I was sitting on the ground. My t-shirt was torn from its rapid exodus through the car window and my baggy shorts were now dirty from sitting in the street. My face was wet from my tears and my nose was running. I thought that I must look like a fool to this cocky thief, and part of me resented him for rubbing it in. The rest of me and the majority felt I deserved it. As low as Id felt these past few weeks, if Id thought Id reached my nadir, Id have been wrong. This was it.
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Tell you what. How about I go in front of the car and you just run me over, OK? I lifted my face to stare at him defiantly, or as close to defiance as I could muster under the conditions. How about that, buddy? He looked back at me impassively. I couldnt tell what he was thinking, but I had the feeling that there were wheels turning. At last he looked back at my license again. His voice was curiously gentle. Why do you think Im robbing you, Mr. Sinclair? I snorted. Lets see you dragged me out of my car and took my wallet what am I supposed to think? He considered this, nodding. OK, lets start with that. Why were you sitting in the car? I didnt quite know what to say. It was kind of hard to explain at that. What do you mean? I mean, he said in a soft voice that nonetheless did not hint at softness, Ive been watching you since you followed those ladies here, and I want to know what you are up to. He handed me my wallet back, contents intact. Ive seen you here before too. Youre not robbing me? My brain couldnt quite process this. Not tonight. His face was impassive. Then what are you doing? Now he stood up and dusted off his pants, which looked clean and pressed to me. I dont like people bothering our customers. Especially ones in wheelchairs? I hazarded a guess.
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He smiled coldly at me. Yeah, especially those. He hesitated, then extended a hand towards me. I debated only for a second before taking it and letting him pull me up again. I wiped my face as best I could, but I probably only managed to wipe the tears and dirt over a wider swath. I dont mean her any harm, you know, I told him. No, I dont know that, but I want to make sure thats true. Well, it is true. I actually know her Callie, thats her name and I like her. I wouldnt hurt her. Maybe you like her a little too much. He said with a hint of a question and a hint of disapproval in his voice. No, really, its nothing like that at all. It doesnt really have anything to do with her. He thought about this. So its about the other girl, Brooke? I nodded guiltily, impressed by his quick insight. He shook his head sadly. So whats your story with her? Did she dump you, or did she just say no to you? I sagged slightly, felling the weight of my life come crashing back onto my shoulders. Its a long story, I said finally. He looked at me with those penetrating eyes, and I imagined that I saw suspicion starting to be replaced by sympathy. At least, I hoped it was sympathy and not pity. We both
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looked up when a crack of lightening split the sky, followed almost immediately by the thunder and then by big drops of rain. Shit, he muttered, picking up a backpack that was sitting next to him. He looked down the street at some unknown destination. He looked back at me as if judging how harmless I was. Get out of here before you get soaked. And leave those women alone, he said in a tired tone of voice. With that, he turned and started to walk away. The rain started to come down harder, and already I was starting to get soaked. I didnt know where he was going, or what he had in that backpack, but there was no place close enough that he wasnt going to get wet getting there. Wait, I said, making up my mind before I realized Id done so. He stopped, and after a brief moment turned. What? His face was back to looking suspicious. Do you have a car? Whats it to you? Its raining, I pointed out. He laughed, already quite wet. Yeah, I noticed. I felt as though I was walking further out onto the tenuous ledge that my life had been teetering on, but still it felt like the right thing to do. I was thinking do you need a ride?
Chapter 14
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He stared at me suspiciously. He looked away for a second, down the street in the direction he had been walking, as if to gauge how far he had yet to go. Then he looked back at me, his face impassive. I thought I needed to prompt him further. No, really. Let me give you a lift. Why? He didnt sound defensive or afraid; he seemed more curious than interested, as though the possibility of saving getting drenched was something that was facing someone else. Get in the car and we can talk about it, I said. I looked at the car, thinking of its shelter. Its stupid to be standing out in the rain when we could be staying dry. With that I moved towards the car, opening the door and getting in without waiting to see what he was going to do. I was curiously relieved when he made up his mind; he only hesitated for a moment, then came over and got in the passenger door. He looked over at me with, I swear, some amusement on his face. A few seconds ago you thought I was going to rob you. Now youre offering me a ride. He shook his head at the incongruity of it. A few minutes ago you thought I was some sort of pervert stalking those girls, I replied with a faint smile. Now youre getting in the car with me. He suppressed a smile, but just barely. Point taken. Still, for all you know I could still be planning to rob you. Maybe Im just lulling you into letting your guard down. I dont know, but I think when I was sitting on the ground out there crying and you had my wallet youd lulled me pretty well, I pointed out. Besides, if you rob me now Id be no worse off than I thought I was a couple of minutes ago. So I might as well give you the benefit of the doubt. Where to? I turned on the ignition. He turned his head and nodded down the road. Couple miles down the road.
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I drove for a little bit, while he looked out the windshield. We didnt make any conversation. I observed him out of the corner of my eye. He was simply looking out the window, watching the passing scenes with mild interest. He wore a pair of painters jeans, which looked comfortably broken in and not excessively baggy like most guys his age wore. He had a Brewed Heaven t-shirt on, and some medium height Timberland boots that looked like theyd seen some action. If hed normally have walked home in the rain, I could see where they would come in handy. I felt like a bum next to him, in my usual stalking uniform of a ratty t-shirt, old shorts, and walking sandals all of which were sweaty from having spent too much time sitting in the car for my long vigils. He was a young kid, just coming off work late at night, but he seemed neat and mature by comparison. I felt embarrassed. I was surprised when he spoke. You hungry? Excuse me? How about some breakfast? Theres an IHOP down by the highway thats open. Cmon, Ill buy you something to eat. I furrowed my brow and looked over at him quizzically. It was late. I should have just wanted to go home and go to bed, but all of a sudden I felt hungry. Sure. He didnt seem surprised and I wondered how he would have reacted if Id declined his offer. I suspected he wouldnt show much emotion then either. When we pulled up to the IHOP there were a few cars in the parking lot. I got to the door before him, and held it open for him. He gave me a questioning look, apparently not used to having doors held open for him, but he went on inside anyway. I could see that two customers were at the cash register paying, so I waited for them to finish up, holding the door until they finally sauntered by. They were two guys in their thirties, and they didnt pay any attention to me. Perhaps they lived the kind of life where doormen routinely
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held open doors for their comings and goings, although looking at them I rather doubted it. More likely they just were oblivious, like I was a doorstop. My new companion was waiting inside for me, and I noticed that he was taking the extra time to survey the room. I might have expected that wed have the place to ourselves, due to the hour, but Id have been wrong. There were several other parties, each of them intent in its own world. One was a group of what looked like college guys in a booth, telling stories and making a lot of noise with the exuberance of youth, or perhaps of too much alcohol. They were a little loud but seemed harmless enough. In another booth sat a young couple, probably still just high school kids. He was painfully thin, with severe acne, while she was plump with a multi-colored hairdo that was, well, interesting. They were sitting next to each other instead of across the table. The boys arm was around her shoulders and he had an immensely proud grin on his face. She just ate her omelet and didnt seem to pay him much attention. A father and a little boy were at one of the tables. The boy was rapidly chewing a mouthful of pancakes while his father smoked a cigarette, watching him with dull interest. The boy looked up every so often to smile broadly at the man. I wondered what kind of father brought his son out to eat pancakes at two in the morning. Whatever the reason was, the boy seemed thrilled about it. The father was less enthused and I looked hard for some paternal affection, but the man hid it well. The final patron looked like a trucker, wearing his CAT hat and sitting at the counter. He seemed to have a lot of miles on him, and held a cigarette in his left hand as he cupped a cup of coffee in the other. He chatted desultorily to the cook through the open window into the kitchen. There were varying reactions to our entry. The college kids looked up for just long enough to determine that we were neither friends nor women, and resumed their animated
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oral jousting. The young lover looked up with a gaze of intense jealousy on his face, while his girlfriend just kept eating slowly. The young boy paid attention only to his food, while his dad similarly ignored us while he watched his son eat. The trucker watched us carefully in the mirror across from us, pretending to ignore us but paying closer attention than I might have expected, for reasons I didnt understand. Maybe he thought we were trouble, maybe he didnt like that Ray was black, or maybe he was afraid wed rob or arrest him. It was hard to say. The sole waitress in evidence seemed to sag just slightly, as the weight of our arrival put yet one more burden on her tired shoulders. Anywhere you want, she told us as she bussed some dirty dishes back to the kitchen. Ill be right with you. I wondered what the crowd made of the two of us. My new friend looked around the room with no emotion. He wasnt threatening or threatened; he was just recording who was there, cataloging it like a photographer might record a scene. I moved towards a booth and he followed, a step behind me. The waitress came by shortly. Her nametag informed us that her name was Betty. She could have been anywhere from twenty to forty-five, and was pretty in a washed out sort of way. Her hair was bleached a dull blonde, and I wondered why she didnt make it a brighter shade if she was going to go to the trouble of bleaching it at all. I noticed that she had a plain gold wedding band on, and that she seemed tired beyond words. She moved as though needing to conserve all remaining energy. It was nothing she did, and nothing she was complaining about. That just made it seem all the worse. Her fatigue just seemed part and parcel of her uniform and her shift, maybe of her life generally, coloring it the way her work had faded her once white uniform to a dull grey. I ordered coffee, while he ordered some juice, and I looked at the menu while she went away to get our drinks. He apparently didnt need to look at the menu. Although most people might have felt the need to make conversation in this situation, he remained quiet, content to sit in silence. I remembered this about him from buying coffee a couple times
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at Brewed Heaven. He was quiet there too, managing to not appear unfriendly while not going out of his way to interact with customers either. Thank you, maam, I said when she brought us our drinks. She smiled a weary smile. What will it be, boys? she asked, her pencil on her pad. Eggs, scrambled, with a side of bacon, he said to her. His voice was soft. Toast on the side. What, no pancakes? I teased. In an IHOP? Seems wrong, doesnt it? Both of them looked over at me as though Id committed a social faux pas. She looked over at him. OK, he said, inspecting her name tag to get the name right. OK, Betty -could I have a side of pancakes? Short stack or tall stack? She smiled wanly at him, and I realized that he was quite good looking. I suspected she wouldnt smile in that way for the trucker, or at me, for that matter. Short. She added this to his order and turned towards me. I ordered some chocolate chip pancakes and a side of sausage links, figuring that if I was out so late I might as well splurge. I watched her as she walked away. I always wonder about people working these late shifts. You know, why shes here so late. He looked over at her briefly, and his face softened just slightly. Its probably her second job. She probably has a kid and a husband who drinks away his paycheck, or hers if he doesnt have a job, which he probably doesnt. Shes just trying to get by. He turned back to me, his face impassive again. Or maybe she just likes the company.
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I surveyed the room again. Im surprised its this crowded. I thought its be empty this time of night. You dont get out much, do you? he asked, not sounding like he was making a joke. Bars starting to close, late movies getting out, kids not ready to go home yet. Its a Friday night and a lot of people dont like to go to bed. You sound like you stay out late a lot. He shrugged. I bartend sometimes. Where? A little bar near Brewed Heaven. I go there after my shift at Brewed Heaven, and then walk home, he told me. At least when its not raining and no one offers me a ride. I wasnt sure if he was making fun of me or not, but decided to let it go. Lets start over. Im Roger Sinclair, I introduced myself, offering my hand. He paused for an almost unnoticeable moment, then took my hand and shook it. Ray Satterfield. Betty brought my pancakes. Your food will be out in a minute, hon, she said to Ray. The cook got a little mixed up there. Thats all right, Betty, he told her graciously. He looked up and smiled at her. Im in no hurry. She seemed warmed by his smile which was surprisingly warm, I noticed and looked relieved at his patience. She walked away happier than shed come, which seemed like a
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good trick. He looked over at me and nodded towards my plate. I hadnt picked up my silverware. Go ahead and eat. Ill wait. Im in no hurry. He shrugged and we sat in silence, while the sounds of the restaurant washed over us. So how long will you wait? he asked at last. Im sure your food will be here soon. No point in me starting yet. This time he nodded, and pursed his lips thoughtfully. It was another two or three minutes before Betty brought his plates. Sorry about the wait, guys. No problem, Betty, he told her. My friend here wasnt ready to eat anyway. There was a lot of food and we took a little bit to get everything organized. Got everything you need? she asked, hovering near the table, nearer to Ray than to me. Something else to drink? You could get me a glass of milk, Ray said. I told her I was fine, having only taken a sip of my coffee, and she went off to fetch his milk. Not many people drink milk these days, I observed. Is that so? he said, starting in on his eggs and apparently not very interested in the milk drinking habits of other people. Betty brought the milk, then went off to tend to the needs of some of her other customers. I was still wondering why Satterfield had suggested going to breakfast. He didnt seem very chatty. I wondered at him. His hair was closely cropped, and he sported no visible
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tattoos or piercings. He was remarkable by how unremarkable he looked relative to most young people these days. We ate for a little bit. The pancakes were delicious, although very rich. Satterfield ate slowly and carefully. So I suppose youre wondering why I was watching those women, I said at last, wanting to break the silence. He looked up and contemplated me. You did seem kind of upset back there. Yeah, I agreed nervously, remembering how Id broken down and was blubbering on the ground like an idiot. Theres a lot going on in my life. You said something about losing everything. I laughed, sort of. Well, not everything. Just my job, my wife, my friends, and my house, in that order. My reputation. Oh, and all hope for the future, if you count that. Just stuff like that. Most people, I think, would have reacted to this pathetic list with at least a look of sympathy on their face. His face remained neutral, not believing or disbelieving me, not sympathetic or unsympathetic. He just listened, but I did have the impression that, unlike many of those other potential listeners, he really was listening. He took a drink of his milk. What havent you lost? he asked at last. I was so caught up in the listing of my losses that I had to stop to think about that. Well, my daughters been great, I admitted at last. She came up to help with the house and all, helped me move into a new apartment. So you have a place to live, he said. He nodded towards the parking lot. And a car, so Im guessing you still have a little money.
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Yeah, and Im not dying or anything, so I guess I have that to be thankful for. I didnt mention the headaches, although at the moment one was pounding my head. Doesnt really help, though, does it? I shook my head, and damned if tears didnt well up in my eyes. No, it doesnt, I admitted. The last few weeks Id first been mostly numb, then consumed with rage and my plans for revenge. I hadnt really let myself feel the loss of it, the raw pain that was striking me now. It felt like a physical loss, a literal hole in my chest that had ragged edges and a small animal constantly tearing away at it to boot. He didnt say anything for a while, and we ate in silence. Betty stopped by to refill my coffee, and I noticed that when she came over he looked up at her and made eye contact. It was just a little thing, but it seemed like a nice gesture. He wasnt flirting with her, but he was noticing that she was there, and she seemed to take heart in that. I thought it must be terribly sad to be thrilled to have someone just notice you as a person, just for a second, and suddenly I knew exactly how she felt. I thought back to that awful night at the grocery store and what I wouldnt have given for such a look. I liked him immensely for his gesture towards her. Why did you invite me to breakfast? I asked. It took all the energy I had to separate myself from my own pain and bring myself to ask him that. He finished chewing his mouthful before replying. Ill tell you, but first tell me why you offered me a ride, right after you thought I was going to rob you. It was my turn to shrug. It was raining, I said lamely. I guess I figured if you were going to rob me youd have done it, and there was no reason you had to get all wet just because youd stopped to see if I was a creep of some sort. Im not, I assure you. I thought for a moment about my recent behavior. At least, not that kind of creep.
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I believe you. His eyes seemed rather solemn. So why the breakfast? Because I believe you, he said simply. We ate for a while longer, and gradually I started to tell him a sketchy version of my tragedy. Once I started, it just poured out, for twenty minutes or so. I guess I needed to tell someone, to get it all off my chest, and telling a perfect stranger in this late night eatery filled with more people I didnt know and likely would never know seemed to make perfect sense. My walls had started cracking when Callie had come over to talk to me at the gym and had completely crumbled when hed yanked me out of my car during my stupid and completely futile attempt to find some way to get back to Brooke. Still, it wasnt entirely random that Id pour the story out to him. I wouldnt have done it with the waitress or with the young lovers, for example. The college kids would have just laughed me away. There was just something about him that drew me out. He didnt ask question or probe, but just sat and let me get it off my chest. He also didnt seem to be judging, and I admired his quality of still listening. Most people would have felt the need to interject, to mutter sympathies or other commentary, or just would have looked away at some point. He just listened, as if there was no other world and nothing else mattered, despite the lack of emotion on his face. He could have been remembering his childhood or having a sexual fantasy about his girlfriend for all I could tell from his face but I doubted it. I was especially embarrassed to tell him about my following Brooke, then Callie to get at Brooke, and I knew in that moment that my days of following her were over. The hardest part is knowing that all these people in my life, who I thought liked me -loved me in my wifes case now think I am a creep of some sort, I concluded. And I dont know why. Its one thing to have all this stuff happen, but Ive always felt good
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about what people thought about me. Now I dont have that, and I dont know what to think about myself any more. I dont know who I am anymore. He just nodded. We had finished eating along the way, and Betty brought us the check. Ill get that, I said, reaching for it. No, it was my idea, he countered, taking it from her before I could get it. Hey, not to rub it in, but Ive got a job. Ill get it. I could have pointed out that, even without a job, I probably had a lot more money than he was likely to accumulate working a lifetime at Brewed Heaven, only that seemed like it would be extraordinarily rude. Still, I felt bad about letting him pay. Betty broke the ice. Inside of fighting for it you could double the tip, she said, not cracking a smile. Fair enough, I told her. I left a big tip and we went to the register to pay. There was an early edition of the paper by the register and Ray bought one. Then we got in my car and he told me how to get to where he lived. He flipped the paper over to read the headline. Big game today. My alma mater, the local state university, was playing its opening football game against Miami. Wed gone to a bowl game last year and almost won against a much higher ranked team. With the key players from that team returning and the city was excited that we might have a very good year. The opening game was sold-out. Thats right, thats today. I forgot all about it. You a fan? Moderate, I suppose. Ive never been to a game. I hear its pretty fun, the crowds and people getting painted up and all.
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It just hit me then. I have season tickets. He looked over at me. You do? I nodded. Kathryn and I had had the tickets for twenty years, sitting in the same section with pretty much the same people over that time. Our lives and our families had grown and changed over those years, but we all stayed pretty faithful to those fall Saturday afternoons, through the discouraging years and back to this new promising era. I mean, I guess I have them. I dont remember that Kathryn thats my wife, or rather, my exwife wanted them. I guess I just need to pick them up. Huh Id forgotten all about them. It seemed amazing to me that I could have completely forgotten about something that once had been so important to me, but it seemed even more amazing to me now that it had ever been so important at all. We drove for a while. He seemed fine with the silence, but I had this great, inexplicable need to keep the conversation going. Have you worked at Brewed Heaven long? About nine months, he said without looking away from his window. It had stopped raining, but was wet and a little foggy. It reminded me of Jack the Ripper, for some reason, and I was glad I was in the car instead of out there walking. You in school? I nodded towards the book-bag laying at his feet. He held on loosely to one of the straps with one hand. No, he said with a small smile, turning halfway towards me. Already graduated? He turned back towards the window. Never went to college. Oh, I said, mentally kicking myself. Well, college isnt for everyone, I guess.
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He didnt respond and I let the rest of the ride go in silence. We arrived at the address hed given me. It was an old building, dating from the forties or fifties, and it had seen better days. There were a couple dim lights in the windows, but it generally looked dark and unwelcoming. Im afraid I looked at it dubiously. Is this it? He smiled at my expression. Home, sweet home. Its not so bad, and I can walk to work. He put his hand on the cars doorknob. Hey, thanks for having breakfast with me. No, thank you for inviting me, and for treating. You really shouldnt have. No problem. He looked out at the street, ready to go. And thanks for listening. It helped, it actually did. I felt a little embarrassed about my little impromptu therapy session, and glad he didnt make a big deal about it. He looked at me with those serious eyes. You know, I was reading this book, about this Nobel prize winning physicist named Richard Feynman. Ever heard of him? No, I said, wondering at this sudden change of topics. He was the old guy who dropped the O-ring into the ice water to show what happened to the Challenger, that space shuttle that crashed in the eighties. Yeah, right. You arent even old enough to remember that, I said, thinking back to where Id been when Id heard the news. There are a few days in ones life that you can always remember stuff like that, and it is the days one remembers that either unifies or differentiates generations.
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Yeah, I was too young to remember the ice water stunt, but I remember the crash and talking about it in school. I read about the ring stunt later. Anyway, this Feynman was a real character. Mad scientist kind of guy? He shook his head, smiling slightly, amused by the story he was telling me. No, he was a real genius everyone agreed about that but he was kind of outrageous too. He liked to play the bongos, liked to drink and chase the ladies. He didnt worry too much about his reputation. It was late and I was suddenly very tired. I needed to get home and deal with this sadness I was feeling. Plus, my head was hurting. Why are you telling me this, Ray? He exhaled. Well, one of his autobiographies was titled with something his wife told him once What do you Care What Other People Think Of You? He opened the door, but paused before getting out. Its good advice. I didnt think he was giving me a book report. He got out of the car, and looked back at me. He smiled. It seemed such a genuine gesture that it touched me. Hey, Roger? he said genially. Yeah? If you think youve lost your wife and all, why do you still wear your wedding ring? I hadnt really paid any attention to it, although now that he mentioned it I recalled playing with it in the IHOP in my usual nervous gesture. I looked at it like Id never seen
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it before and didnt know what it would be doing there. I dont know, I admitted at last. He nodded, a non-response to my non-response. I felt bad about my response, and tried to elaborate. No, I dont mean I dont want to tell you. I mean I really dont know. He nodded again, although this time it seemed to convey more meaning. You might want to think about that. He started to walk away. Instead of thinking about why I was wearing a symbol of my dead marriage, I instead suddenly thought about the day ahead of me. I felt a surge of relief of not having to track Brooke like a spy. A new, better idea came to me. Hey, Ray, I called out to him through the open window. He was carrying the newspaper folded under his arm and his backpack slung over one shoulder. He stopped and turned around. What? Would you like to go to the game with me today? What? I told you I had season tickets. Im pretty sure Kathryn isnt going to go with me. He came over and leaned into the window. Thanks for the offer, really, but you probably have lots of friends who youd like to go with you. I doubt they think youre a creep. You should give them a chance. His saying that made me feel better than Id felt since Id been in Garys office getting fired. It was odd, that just those words from a guy I barely knew, who was young enough
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to be my son, could cheer me up so much. You know, I probably wont go otherwise. I dont think any of them would appreciate it as much as you would. Id be honored if you came with me. He only had to think for a few seconds. We made plans to meet at the stadium.
Chapter 15 When I got home I got ready for bed as usual, but stopped to look at myself in the bathroom mirror. I looked tired, which was not surprising given the hour and my long day. The headache was still there, although by this point it seemed manageable. I felt old too, and I wondered about this man staring back at me from the mirror. He didnt look as old as I felt, and I wondered which of us was the man for whom life had gone so terribly wrong. Then I thought about my new friend Ray and our conversation, and looked down at my wedding ring. It was a symbol of something that no longer existed. Worse than that, it was a symbol of something that had apparently long ago stopped meaning what I thought it did. Id already had my wife leave me. Id already signed the divorce papers, and allowed strangers to take ownership of our home. It didnt seem fair that I had yet more strings tying me to that old life. This little metal band seemed so small, so inconsequential, but it had been with me so long and signified so much. Id relied on it to send a message to the world that I belonged to someone. Now I needed to move on. With great care I took it off. I had never taken it off before, not once in our marriage, and I was afraid it would be stuck. To my surprise, it slipped off my finger easily. Perhaps Id lost weight, or maybe the symbolism went further than I thought. I placed it carefully in the dresser drawer next to my side of the bed.
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I woke late that morning, feeling better than I had any right to. I should have been really tired from my unusually late night, but I wasnt. My head still hurt, but not as bad it was more like a dull pain in the background of my attention. I was still in my anonymous apartment, surrounded by people I didnt know and who neither knew nor cared about me, but I didnt have any right to complain. I didnt have a job because Id screwed up at work. I didnt have a wife because, for reasons I still hadnt quite figured out, Id screwed up my marriage. I couldnt pretend that Brooke or Kathryn were evil. No, I was the bad guy here. I didnt have a real home because I didnt deserve one. Being in a place like this fit me. For reasons I didnt quite understand, admitting it helped. Having my new friend Ray drag me out of a car late at night while stalking an innocent person helped show me how off course Id let myself drift. OK, Id made some mistakes, some bad mistakes. Some I understood, and some I didnt. I couldnt change the ones Id made, but I had to accept them and move on. Today I was going to start.
It was a sunny day, and I found myself whistling as I drove to the stadium. For the first time in weeks I was doing something like a normal human being, and it felt refreshing. I felt somewhat naked not wearing my ring, and hoped that the pale ribbon of skin would not be too glaringly obvious to everyone who saw me. I wasnt entirely sure Ray would show up, but he was standing where we had agreed to meet. Like most of the crowd, I was wearing school colors, but Ray was, again, dressed simply the same jeans and boots but with an oversized football jersey. He was carrying his backpack again. Hey, he greeted me casually. Glad you made it, I said, as I guided him towards the gate. It was packed, and a buzz permeated the crowd. School spirit was normally strong, but we were opening the season with high hopes following a bowl-winning, top twenty season last year. Miami was favored in this game, but only by seven, and many of us believed we could pull off the
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upset. Ray watched everything with curiosity, neither intimidated by the crowd nor awed by the experience. It was hard to tell what he thought. If she had been with me, Kathryn and I might have come early to tailgate with friends, but under the present circumstances I thought it wiser to cut it closer to game time. I didnt really want to spend longer than necessary explaining her absence to our friends and other acquaintances. I hoped that word of our split had not leaked to the circle, but as we made our way towards our seats I could see the ripple of heads turning towards us from the people who sat near our seats, and I knew that there would be no such luck. I didnt know if they knew about Kathryn or about my losing my job, but from their sympathetic looks and muted greetings clearly they knew something was wrong with my life. Their expressions ranged from awkward to politely sympathetic, like I was a grieving widower instead of the jilted spouse. I tried to act as natural as I could, said hello to everyone, one by one by one, introducing Ray along the way. Clearly, people didnt know what to make of his presence, but shook his hand politely and murmured appropriate greetings in return. If he was uneasy about the situation, he didnt show it, although he didnt really engage in conversation with any of them either. I thought for a moment that I was going to make it without incident, that peoples reluctance to open sore subjects would save me and allow me to just watch the game, but it was not to be. Henry Morrow stood up, oblivious to his wife Pollys sudden look of panic. Roger! he bellowed by way of greeting. How the hell are you? Henry had been sitting in front of Kathryn and me for the last ten years. He used to come with one of his sons, but now that they were away at college themselves he had relented to bringing Polly. Kathryn and I had been moderately friendly with them, going to parties or out to dinner with them a couple times a year, plus the tailgating. Henry was an all right sort, but he was not the swiftest observer of human events. Even Ray, who had never met them before, could sense the daggers Polly was shooting her slightly inebriated husband, tugging unobtrusively on his jersey. Henry had had a few drinks, I suspected
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either that or he was having a small coronary, judging by his ruddy expression. He looked around in confusion. Wheres Kathryn? he asked. Several heads around us forced themselves to not turn, although I could almost see their ears perk up. Henry Polly whispered fiercely, pulling harder at him. She looked almost frantic. Sit down. He ignored her. He looked at Ray suspiciously. Whos this? Hes a friend of mine, I explained. Kathryn couldnt make it. Couldnt make the game! he exclaimed, his eyes widening. Henry was a serious fan. Good God, were going to upset Miami today. What in the world would she be doing that is more important than being here? Henry, his wife started again, a more urgent tone in her voice. She yanked on his shirt more firmly, and he looked down at her with a frown. Something in the look on her face must have reminded him of a conversation they must have had sometime recently. If that conversation had been about someone or something else, his current look of recollection and distress might have been almost comical. As it was, it was just uncomfortable. His face went blank. Umm, look, the games about to start. He plopped down hard on his seat, and his wife leaned over and started scolding him fiercely into his ear. Ray just looked over at me. What do you think, Roger? one of our other neighbors asked, trying to change the subject. Are we going to upset them or what? It sure looks good, Tom.
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There was general consensus around that feeling, as we reassured ourselves of the potency of our offense and the take-no-prisoners nature of our defense. I was feeling pretty good about our chances myself, and let my spirits rise. Ray stayed quiet amidst the self-congratulatory speculation. Someone asked him his opinion on the carnage yet to come. Im not that big a fan, he explained without a hint of apology. Im just here to watch the game. We won the coin toss and elected to receive. I leaned over to him as Miami lined up to kick. So what do you think? Are we going to win? He smiled just briefly and shook his head. Nope. No? You dont think we can pull it off? As the Miami kicker drew his bead on the ball, Ray leaned over to me, so no one but me would hear. These are the guys who used to steal your lunch money on the playground in grade school, all grown up now and badder than ever. Its not going to be pretty. It wasnt. Miami forced a fumble on the kickoff return and scored immediately. That was the closest we got. By the end of the first half they were ahead by forty points and substituting freely. The crowd was out of it after our first three four and out possessions, and started leaving at halftime. Ray and I stayed till the bitter end, along with a few other grim masochists. I dont know why we stayed. It was painful to watch if you were a fan, which I was, but it was a nice day out so it beat sitting in my apartment or worse yet, sitting in my car following Brooke Haywood. For a student of the game, sitting here watching a very impressive team execute well even if the impressive team was the opposition team and they were executing against my team was like watching a clinic. It was hard to tell if Ray was enjoying himself or not, but I knew he wasnt missing much. Once in the third quarter we got lucky on a long pass and the crowd rose in a
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collective thrill that we finally might be showing a resurgence. There was a gasp when we noticed an officials penalty flag. Clipping, Ray said to me quietly. He pointed to the backfield. The tackle clipped the linebacker. If he hadnt, the quarterback would have never gotten that pass off. I didnt believe him at first, but the subsequent replay proved him right. While everyone else had been watching the ball, he was watching the details. When it was finally over I lost count of the final score -- we filed out with the rest of the glum crowd. Whatd you think? I asked him. Yeah, it was good. His face didnt show much emotion either way. Good? Well, not the game itself, but the whole thing. He gestured to the stadium grounds around us. The experience. Sorry it wasnt a closer game. Thanks for agreeing to come. I think your being here prevented them from asking too many questions about Kathryn. They did look like they were kind of in shock. There was that. So, howd you get here? Bus. Actually, a couple buses and some walking. I could see the crowd of people queuing up for their cars and the buses, and pictured him taking his long way home. How about I give you a ride? Ray just looked at me. Youll get into a bad habit if youre not careful.
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I think he might have smiled, just a bit, but he didnt actually seem to be protesting. Without discussing it any further we headed to my car. Where to? I asked, opening my door and releasing the locks. I have to work. Is that out of your way? I demurred, and we slowly made our way through the post-game traffic. Being on campus made me nostalgic. You know, I had chemistry in that building, I told him, pointing him to one of the old halls. Nowadays they use it for offices, and the Chemistry Department has a new building where there used to be softball fields. Over there I used to go with my friends to this pizza joint, Frankies. It was a dive, and had been there forever, but they made the greatest pizza. You could see old pizza stains on the tablecloths and see these old guys tossing the dough like they had forever. They could do it with their eyes closed. Oh, and there was this really cute waitress that we all tried to work up the nerve to ask out. Did you? I shook my head. Nope, although a couple of my friends did, and one of them actually got a date with her. Gee, Frankies must have closed ten years ago. I remember trying to take Bridget there once and being shocked that it was closed. I guess kids go to Pizza Hut now. Ray didnt say anything. He just looked at the campus like it was a foreign planet. The kids walking around the campus were about his age, maybe just a couple of years younger but somehow they seemed much younger and much more innocent than he did. I couldnt picture him worrying about rushing a frat or pulling an all-nighter, and it made me kind of sad. Id enjoyed my college years. You never wanted to go to college? I asked.
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Ray just shrugged and looked away. We passed by one of the sorority houses, and I realized that this was where Kathryn had been living when Id met her. Wed actually met at a frat party, and one of our first dates had been a football game. That had been late in the season, on a cold and gray day. The team that year had been particularly bad, so there werent many people in the stands. Not many girls I knew would have been willing to go under the circumstances. Kathryn had been happy to go, and had watched the game with pleasure. That had been the start of our long tradition of these games although we had long ago upgraded to the nicer seats our season tickets bought us. Suddenly the day took a darker turn. I couldnt help but think of the happy times Id had, and of all Id lost. All of a sudden the pleasure of reminiscing about my college years seemed silly. We rode in silence for a few blocks, until Ray surprised me. You thinking about your wife? he asked in a soft voice. I glanced over, and saw that he was looking away, out the window. It didnt seem disinterest so much as politeness, not wanting to observe me in what might be an awkward moment. I turned back to my driving with a sigh. I suppose so. Lots of memories around here. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him purse his lips thoughtfully. Its better not to get too involved with people. I looked over at him in surprise. What? That caused him to turn his head towards me, not expecting my surprise. I dont know what he expected, but evidently my tone didnt match it. You cant count on people, he told me, like a brother instructing his kid brother. They arent there for you when you need them.
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What do you mean? He made a face. I mean, you had all those years, and wheres your wife, your friends? Some bad luck and youre taking a stranger to your football game. With that he turned away again. Without thinking about it, I reached over to touch his arm to get his attention. As soon as I did so he reacted quickly, shifting quickly in his seat and grabbing my wrist. He let it go when he saw I meant no harm. Youre wrong. Im not sorry I was married. I dont regret the times we had I treasure them. Whatever, he said flatly. Theyre still gone. I took a deep breath. And I dont really know what to do about that. I didnt do something right, I messed up somehow. But I dont regret the time I had. He looked at me with a skeptical expression. So its all your fault? I nodded. Yeah, I guess so. He seemed sorry for me. Face it -- marriage can never work. Lets say you and the missus stay together. You put in your fifty or sixty years, and them bam, one of you dies and leaves the other alone the rest of their lives. Whats the point of that? You still end up alone. Marriage cant stop it. It just makes the being alone harder when it finally happens. Better just to get used to it all along. Isnt that what youre finding out right now? I drove for a little while, and he seemed content in his own silence. But I wasnt conceding the point. What he said made logical sense in a way, but it was wrong. It sounded wrong; it felt wrong. I just needed to think why it was wrong, and it took me a couple of blocks to articulate it. I think its not really until you have a kid that you can understand it, I said slowly. He seemed surprised, and looked over at me curiously. I
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gave him an apologetic smile and continued. Its not about what happens to you. Its about loving someone so much that you just want to give to them. Whatever they need, whatever they want. It really becomes clear when you have a child. Theyre so helpless when theyre babies. They cant do anything for themselves. They need you for everything and you want to give them everything. Even when they get older you still want to do everything, and its hard to pull back to let them do things on their own. So what does that have to do with being married? Its the same, I declared, finding myself a little amazed at my own realization. I liked being married because I liked giving Kathryn things, doing things for her. Just loving her with my whole heart. Not because I expected anything from her, although she gave me a lot too. Just because I loved her so much I wanted to give her everything I could. He studied me somberly, then asked the question that had to be asked. So why did she leave? I shook my head wearily. I dont know. Maybe I was giving her the wrong things. Maybe I got lazy about how I was giving her stuff. I dont know. All I know is that if I lived my whole life with her and she died before me, Id have been happy just knowing Id given her my love all those years, if Id known she was happy while we were together. What happened to me after that wouldnt really matter. You some kind of saint? His tone was gruff, but underneath it I thought I detected some sympathy. No, just a guy who loved his wife, and, I guess, didnt do a very good job of it. I decided to press him a little, if only to stop him pointing out the deficiency in my life. What about you? Arent there people you care about? I got no one to miss and no one to miss me.
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It seemed terribly sad to me. I didnt know which was worse: the words themselves or his lack of emotion about admitting them. No family, no friends? Nope. He didnt seem to want to talk, so we drove in silence. I was thinking about the friends Id thought Id had, and the marriage that had evaporated so quickly. The only consoling thought I kept coming back to was Bridget. If Id done one thing, just one thing, right in my life, it was her. There was a solace in that, and I felt sorry that Ray didnt have something like that in his life. It wasnt until we passed a little corner store with a lottery sign outside it that he spoke again, surprising me from my funk. Do you ever play the lottery, Roger? His voice was quiet. It seemed a curious thing to ask. No, I never did. Why not? The odds too bad for you? I had to take a deep breath. No, it wasnt that. Its just that, well, its only money. He turned and raised a sardonic brow. Only money? I laughed, but there was no humor in it. Money wouldnt have given me anything. I mean, I already had everything. I had a wife I loved, a beautiful daughter, a great home, a good job. People respected me, liked me. I had everything I wanted in life and more. Playing the lottery would be like asking God for a bigger Grand Canyon, you know? I understand, but people dont play the lottery for money.
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Oh? He shook his head. No, most people know theyre not going to win. They dont really think theyve got a chance at that money. Its not real to them. Then why do they play? His voice sounded impossibly sad, the first real emotion Id heard from him. Because it gives them the illusion that their life could be different, that tomorrow might not be the same as today or yesterday or the day before. Because theyre looking at a long line of tomorrows that at best only look like today, and at worse might make today look like the best day of your life. Because the lottery might make one of those days different. Thats why they play the lottery. I didnt know what to say, but I understood what he was saying, and I thought that he might be right. I hadnt had any need for promises about tomorrow, until Kathryn left and everything changed. Suddenly tomorrow seemed like a long day, and the days ahead of it stretched out frighteningly. I was afraid to speak for fear my sadness would shatter me. Ray spoke instead. I play the lottery. That surprised me. I glanced over at him. You do? It didnt seem consistent with what I knew or thought I knew about him. Yeah, he said softly. He didnt look back at me. Only, not that lottery. I play by sending in college applications. He forced a short laugh. I keep trying, and they keep saying no. But its the same thing. I thought you didnt want to go to college.
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He looked away, out the window at the passing buildings or, perhaps, at nothing at all. Is it money? I mean, I dont know you very well, but Im sure youre smart enough. If its money, theyve got lots of scholarships and loans. He said it so softly that I almost missed it. Im a convict. What? This time he said it more loudly. A convict. A felon. A threat to society. Its a good thing we got a red light, because I might have crashed the car otherwise. I might have believed lots of things about Ray, but being a criminal was not one of them. He was too smart for that, too polite, too well-mannered. Id have guessed him to be a secret agent before Id have believed him to be a criminal. Youre kidding, I said at last. Ray looked at me sardonically. Its not the kind of thing people kid about. At least, not people who are. I didnt know what to say. The light turned green all too suddenly, and I had to drive on. It gave me a little more time to regroup. Do you want to tell me about it? Not really. Thats the thing, you know. It doesnt really matter what you did, only what it makes you. Why are you telling me this? He paused, and I wasnt sure he was going to answer at all. Because I want you to know who are you hanging around with. Because you probably shouldnt hang around with people like me.
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I thought about what hed said before. And thats why you dont have anyone who cares about you? Ray got a wry expression on his face. Prison has a funny way of making people forget about you, and the people you meet there arent really people you want to make friends with. He didnt sound like he felt sorry for himself or wanted me to feel sorry for him. He was just telling me how it was. I could only begin to understand what that must be like. Id only lost my job and my wife and suddenly yet people had drifted away from me very quickly. And your family? He just shook his head and looked out the window. We arrived at Brewed Heaven, but he sat still in his seat instead of starting to get out. We both looked inside, at the little haven of refuge from life, already filled with its typical eclectic crowd. I supposed that maybe an ex-con wasnt so bad a fit there; Starbucks, maybe not, but Brewed Heaven, maybe. So is that why youre working at Brewed Heaven? I asked. Yeah, the owner is one of these liberals that believes in giving cons a second chance. My parole officer got me the job, and Toms pretty cool about things, like coming in late today so I could go to the game. He took a deep breath. Later, he said, getting out of the car. I almost let him walk away. I had so much on my mind already, so much turmoil in my life. Ray was obviously tough, smart and self-reliant. He had chosen to go his own way, and I had thought that must mean he liked it that way. Still, he had invited me to go out for breakfast last night, and had come with me to the game today. He had listened without complaint to my whining. Not only all that; he had offered me sage advice. I
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glanced down at my ring finger, aware of the bareness on it and of the weight it no longer placed upon me. Hey, Ray, I called out. He stopped and turned, but did not come closer. I opened my door and stood up, leaning on the roof. This friend of mine was telling me about this book. Yeah? Yeah, it was about this physicist guy. I dont really remember the name of it. Something about caring what people thought about him. He smiled, just barely. You mean not caring. Yeah, that. He nodded thoughtfully. walk away. Later. He was still smiling as he walked away. Like I said, man, he said, turning around and starting to
Chapter 16 I got up early the next morning, inspected my kitchen carefully, and went out to the store for some badly needed provisions, as well as the Sunday paper. I made myself a big breakfast, then did something I hadnt done in weeks. I sat and read the paper. Reading the paper, especially the Sunday paper, used to be a ritual for me, but today I had a special goal. In addition to catching up on the events that were occurring outside my immediate world, I wanted to start looking for jobs.
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I knew that most people dont get the kind of jobs I was looking for through the want ads, but it gave me the illusion of taking some action. When I had thoroughly digested what was available in the paper, I tore out the three ads Id circled and put them aside. They werent great jobs and I wasnt ideally qualified for any of them, but they were a start. Then I went to work on my apartment. When Bridget had helped me move into this place, it really was like a life raft for me: a place just to survive the immediate crisis. Before getting groceries earlier in the morning, I hadnt really done anything to make the place more livable. Well, I couldnt make it a home, but I could at least change the life raft into a lifeboat. I spent the rest of the day first cleaning up the mess Id accumulated during the time Id lived here, then finished off the afternoon unpacking my boxes. I wasnt going to live here forever, but I had finally accepted that I wasnt ever going back to my old home. So I figured I might as well make the best of it. I unpacked the rest of my clothes into the closet and dresser, I put some books on the bookshelves, and I set up my computer. I went to sleep that night feeling a little more virtuous than Id felt in weeks. Monday I started job hunting in earnest. I updated my resume, and started searching the positions listed on some job sites. Hardest of all, I made some tentative calls. Id been discouraged when the calls Id made right after Kathryn had left had only served to prove that my reputation was in tatters, and it was hard to start networking again. This time I called people further removed from Exly, who might not have heard the full story, and I also tried to set up some no-obligation lunches or breakfasts. I was pleased when a couple of old acquaintances agreed. They sounded like they were not too thrilled but were unable to come up with any good excuses to not even eat with me. I tried to keep busy, and taking some action, however pointless it might be, was better than sitting around brooding. Or, for that matter, stalking. My ears burned in embarrassment to think of my behavior during that time period. Blaming the demise of my marriage on Brooke, following her around like an amateur detective: Id just gone crazy. Id tried to blame everything on her instead of really thinking through things.
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I had to face it: it was my fault. All my fault. Kathryn had fallen out of love with me. It couldnt have been something that happened overnight. It wouldnt have been over one wrong thing I might have said, or one gesture Id failed to make. She would have had to slowly, gradually, inevitably decide that I was not the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. And that made me think about what kind of man I must be, to have her walk away from all that wed had, from all that wed built together. I hadnt been bad to her. I hadnt cheated on her. I hadnt committed any crimes or high offences. Unlike many of my friends, I never complained about being married. I liked being married. I liked the whole couple thing. I liked always having someone be there for me. I liked always being there for her, trying to make her happy. I could think of a thousand happy memories from our marriage. Many of them, of course, revolved around Bridget. How overcome with emotion we were when she was born, or how proud we were when she graduated from college. The simple joy of reading her a story before bedtime, or walking into her room late at night, my arm around Kathryns shoulders, as we watched her sleep in her crib. I used to think: we made her, and be so thrilled to be part of such a family. But my happy memories didnt all involve Bridget. If all our marriage had been was Bridget, then I could understand Kathryn leaving once Bridget had. I remember how thrilled Kathryn was when she was named to her Executive Director role, and I think I was even more thrilled for her than she was for herself. You see, she had doubts she was up for the job, but I never did. I always thought she could do anything she put her mind to. I remembered watching her across the room at parties. Every so often our eyes would meet, and it warmed me throughout to know she was mine and I was hers. We could be across the room, but I always felt connected to her in a way that made me feel good about
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myself. Yes, I remembered lots of laughs, lots of love, and only a few arguments. The arguments we did have never lasted long, but now I had to wonder: should we have argued more? Was that lack of heat not a good thing, as Id always thought, but part of the reason she left? Id always felt sorry for friends of mine who had gotten divorced. Id heard too many tales of sorrow and heartache not that most of them would come right out and admit it; you had to see them and hear what they werent saying to understand it to think that the few post-divorce conquests they managed somehow made it worth the loneliness. Id behaved well, I thought, yet here I was in my little divorce hovel like any other bounder. And I hadnt even had the satisfaction of knowing Id done something that might have made my loss worthwhile, or at least justified. Trying to list the flaws that might have driven Kathryn away consumed a fair amount of my time, filling in those minutes when I couldnt make myself focus on my future. Theres only so much one can do in a day to look for jobs; the rest of the days were blank canvases that I had to fill. So I spent the time thinking about Kathryn and the life wed led together. I should have gone to more of her fundraisers. I should have spent more time with her arty friends, maybe given in and took her to more plays or symphonies or art openings things she once urged me to go with her to, but gradually learned not to. I shouldnt have spent so much time in my workshop. We should have flown away to New York for the weekend, just because we could have. I could think of all those things, the kinds of differences and patterns that every marriage has to negotiate. Some do it better than others; some survive and some dont. I thought wed passed all the tests, made it through all the rapids and that itd be clear sailing in calm waters from here on out. Hw could I have been so wrong? I thought about all those possible things, all my shortcomings, and the thing that scared me the most was that she just wasnt attracted to me anymore.
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Wed both aged relatively well, I thought, but our sex life had diminished over the years. Id heard some friends kid about Viagra, and wondered if maybe I should have tried something like that. I wasnt a kid, and I hadnt been that much of a stud when I had been a kid. Yet if my own wife, who had known me from my best years, no longer found me attractive, how was I ever going to get someone else to be attracted to me? The thought of dating again of even trying to ask someone out filled me with dread. I didnt know which was worse: the thought of me trying to get someone else to sleep with me, or the thought of Kathryn sleeping with someone else. Someone who might excite her in ways I hadnt been able to, whod make love to her better and more often than I had. It was all I could do to force myself away from these thoughts and try to keep from going crazy all over again. Whatever happened had happened. I couldnt make myself twenty years younger again, and I couldnt magically make Kathryn come back. But I did need to find a job again, if only to fill the hours of my long days with something other than this self-doubt and recrimination. All this self-recrimination was making my head hurt even worse. Id have to stop and lie down when I could see little stars forming in my vision. Id lie down in the dark and try not to think, not to blame myself, but the darkness just made the thinking easier and the headache worse. It was sort of a vicious cycle. I felt bad, which made me feel worse about myself, which made my head hurt more, and so on. It was an apparently bottomless pit of despair and I was falling faster and faster...
Bridget called on Wednesday. I was doing some research on the Internet when her call came. Daddy? Her voice was sweet to hear. We chatted for ten minutes or so. I think she was relieved to hear about my job search, such as it was, and she was interested in how Id filled out the apartment. She was the only other person in the world who could picture what it might look like now, and she
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promised to come see it soon. Theres a spare bedroom waiting, I told her. Anytime youre able to make it. She said all the right things, but didnt commit to an actual date. I was both disappointed and relieved, not sure how I felt about her seeing me here. I was better than when shed last seen me, but part of me wanted to be more on my feet before I subjected her to that again. There was one topic that I couldnt let her off the phone before I broached. Talk to your mom lately? I said, mustering up the best casual tone that I could. Yes, I talked to her today. I searched her reply and her tone for clues, but she was being careful. How is she? Bridget sighed. Oh, shes fine. I mean, shes not fine, but shes doing OK. Coping. Sort of like you are, dad. I rather suspected not, but it would be there some justice if that were true. I was thinking I couldnt finish the sentence. What, dad? I was thinking, umm, maybe I could talk to her. Theres just some things I think we should talk about. Dad I know, I know. I was just wanting to see how shes doing. There was a pause, and I could picture my poor, loving daughter sitting there trying to decide how to handle her depressed dad. I hated putting her through this, but she was my
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only avenue to my wife. Her voice was soft but firm when she finally replied. Shes not ready yet, dad. Shell let you know when she is, OK? It wasnt what I wanted to hear, but it was the best I was going to get. I didnt know what Id say if Kathryn agreed to talk to me anyway. We said our goodbyes and hung up. I sat there for a few minutes recounting the conversation and wondering how I sounded to my daughter. Was she more worried about me now or less? I thought Id done pretty well, right up to when I asked about Kathryn. She had to expect it, I thought, but she didnt have to like it. When the phone rang, I thought I had my answer about if she was worried about me or not. I was wrong. Hey, stranger, Callie said. You didnt call.
Chapter 17 It turned out that Callie was looking for someone to have dinner with, so much to my surprise a little before seven that night I found my way to one of the new restaurants along the river. Id never been there before, so I made sure I got there a few minutes ahead of the agreed upon meeting time. I was still puzzling over the fact that she had taken the initiative to call me, and not entirely sure why Id agreed to go. No good could come from this, I told myself darkly. Yet here I was. I stopped just inside the doors, and scanned quickly to see if she was there. Id offered to pick her up, of course, but shed demurred, laughing and telling me that she would just meet me here. For midweek, there was a pretty good crowd at the bar already, and the restaurants tables were about half full. It was a mostly young crowd, and I felt a little out of place. The attractive hostess took note of my arrival. Just one, sir? she asked soliticiously, which just made me feel even older.
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Umm, no, Im, ah, waiting for someone, I fumbled in reply. A young lady. Her eyes widened. Are you meeting Callie? You must be Roger. It was my turn to widen in surprise. Well, yes, I am. She told you I was meeting her? She nodded. Yes. Shes outside, on the deck. Come this way. I followed her through the restaurant out to the deck, where several parties were enjoying the nice weather and beginning of the sunset. She pointed to one of the tables, handed me a menu, and left me with a smile. I stood there a second, looking at Callie. She was facing my direction, but hadnt noticed my arrival yet. She was looking out at the water, a martini glass in front of her and a cigarette in her hand. She was dressed in a white spaghetti strap top that left her strong shoulders exposed, along with a short jean skirt and sandals. Her feet were up on one of the chairs, adding to her air of relaxation. I thought that she appeared tanner than I recalled, although it might have just been the light. I realized that she was sitting in a chair, not in her wheelchair, and out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a wheelchair folded up by the waitress station. It must be hers, of course, and it hit me. She wanted to come by herself, to get here before me, so that she could be sitting at the table looking like just a normal girl sitting in a restaurant. She didnt want me to see her struggle to get in and out of a car, or to maneuver her way through the restaurant floor. She wanted me to see her as a woman not as a cripple. I thought at that moment that I had never known anyone so brave. She looked up in surprise. Oh, she said. Youre here. She stubbed out the cigarette and gestured to the chair next to her. I walked the few remaining steps towards her, but didnt yet sit down. You smoke?
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She grinned at me. It is a bad habit, isnt it? I swear, I only have the occasional one. Just when you are nervous, I thought to myself. She didnt look nervous. I thought you were into taking care of yourself. You know, all that working out, I told her. Smoking seems like pretty risky behavior. She gazed at me with an amused expression. Kind of like asking a stranger for his phone number, then asking him out to dinner. I bit my lip. Point taken. Fortunately for you, Im pretty safe. Thats what I figured. But I could have been dangerous, I protested. Memories of my having, essentially, stalking her just days ago loomed large over me at that moment. She shrugged. Lifes a risk. You take some chances. I still hadnt sat down, as if I wasnt sure I really belonged her with this much younger woman. If you didnt know shed come in a wheelchair, youd be forgiven for thinking she was just about perfect. Im surprised youre still sitting by yourself, a pretty girl like you. Id think youd have lots of good looking guys after you. I felt self-conscious standing there in front of her like that, but seemed curiously frozen, unable to claim a spot next to this beautiful girl. Well, Ive had a few offers, she admitted coyly. She gestured towards her drink. Some guys at the bar sent me that. Theyre probably watching you very closely to see how you do.
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They probably think Im your father. I certainly felt like her father; at least, I felt as old as her father. I couldnt claim that any of the other confused feelings I was experiencing seemed at all paternalistic. Callie got a mischievous look on her face. Well, lets disabuse them of that notion. She motioned me to lean closer, which I did. Then she took my face in both hands, and pulled me in for a kiss that stopped short of being passionate but was definitely more than a simple hello kiss. I didnt realize at first what she was doing, and by the time I did I was too caught up it to think at all. I was only aware of the softness of her lips and of the feel of her cool hands on my face. It was over before I was ready for it to be over, and when she suddenly released my face I stumbled back slightly. Now they wont think youre my father. She fairly glowed with amusement. I could feel my face flush with surprise, but I tried to act as though being kissed by a young woman I barely knew was an everyday occurrence for me. Not unless we have some odd sort of Euripides complex going on. Touch. Please, sit down. She patted the chair next to her, and a waiter magically appeared. Hey, Ron see what my friend will have to drink. I sat. The waiter whom she evidently knew by name looked expectantly at me. I eyed her martini but thought the better of doing any serious drinking. Ah, Ill have a Coors Light. He wrote that down and walked away. I looked back at Callie, who was watching me with a bright smile. Whats so funny? I asked defensively. Nothing, she said, not dimming her smile in the least. Im glad you are here. Im a little surprised, in fact I wasnt sure youd come.
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Neither was I, I admitted. I still cant believe you called me. Are you always so bold about asking men out? Sometimes. Her eyes got that mischievous twinkle again. Especially when they are old enough to be my father. Which, in fact, you arent. Ron came back with my drink, and took a couple minutes to describe the specials, which were mostly various fresh fish entrees. He then left us alone. Know what you want? I asked. She nodded. I already asked Margie shes the hostess -- what was good tonight. So whats good? I put down the huge menu. Everything! she laughed. I eventually decided on the ribs, while she ordered the sea bass. We also agreed to have a bottle of wine, which she let me pick. We made polite conversation as we waited for the food to arrive. We talked first about the health club. I had to admit that I was a relative newcomer, although I felt enough of a macho pride to make sure she knew that Id been playing tennis and trying to stay fit long before joining her club. Youve stayed in pretty good shape, I guess, she apprised. I felt inordinately proud that she thought that, although I thought perhaps she was being too kind. Our food arrived quickly, and we dug in. It was quite good. The ribs were messy but worth the effort. Her sea bass looked quite good as well, and she playfully invited me to sample it. When I politely declined, she put a chunk on her fork and held it out in front of me until I gave in and ate it. It melted in my mouth, before I could quite separate out
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the delicious taste of the fish itself from the equally exquisite sauce it was in. I see why your friend recommended that, I told her. She smiled. Now let me have one of your ribs. Like Adam? She nudged me at my jest, and I carved off a rib for her to try. She ate it with the same enthusiasm shed shown for everything else, and we both settled into a more deliberate rhythm of eating. She told me about her job. She worked as a free-lance graphic designer, and seemed to have no shortage of projects. She described some of them to me, and I recognized a couple of them a logo for a local cable company, and an image that was part of a long running campaign by a bank on billboards and the sides of buses. Wow, I exclaimed. Pretty cool. What do you do? It was the question well, one of them that Id been afraid shed ask. Im kind of between things right now. Deciding what to do when you grow older? she offered helpfully. Sort of. She accepted this and looked out at the water. There were a few boats out on the water, with the people on them drinking and having a good time. Looking at her in profile made me notice her full lips, which got me all confused again as I remembered our kiss.
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I would have been content to sit there and just look at her for the rest of the evening, but she turned to look at me again. This time her face was subdued. I noticed you arent wearing your wedding ring anymore. That caught me a little taken aback. Id almost gotten used to it not being there, but at that moment I felt naked and exposed. No, no, Im not, I said. Not much point in it. Things are that bad? I could only nod my assent. She put one of her hands on top of mine, and the touch both cooled and warmed me at the same time. She smiled slowly at me, her face warming. Im sorry for whatever happened. Has it been tough? I hated the fact that my eyes started to water, and I had to blink back the tears. I wiped my face with my free hand, finding that she was holding the other one. You could say that. She looked very sympathetic, yet I hated being so vulnerable in front of her. It made me feel like I was weak, and added to my sense of insecurity about the whole thing. What happened? she asked. She took her hand away, and after some quick internal debate -I put mine safely in my lap. I dont know. It sounded more plaintive than anything else. She had to think about that, studying me. I could see her mind working behind those lovely eyes. I dont know? The usual line is: my wife didnt understand me. I smiled weakly. Im just afraid that maybe she understood me too well. So she left you?
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I was curious how she had inferred that, but I guessed womens intuition was especially powerful in these things. I just nodded. She nodded thoughtfully. And was that before or after you, um, became in between things, career-wise? This time I laughed weakly. Same day, actually. I came home and she left. Before I could even tell her. Wow, she said, shaking her head ruefully. Bummer. Her reaction could have been funny had I been a little more distant from the whole thing, but as it was I barely noticed as I rushed on. I dont even know why she left. She hasnt even talked to me since. My daughter is in touch with her, I guess, but shes trying not to take sides. Smart girl. She looked out at the water again to buy some time to process all of this, and I joined her. Most of the boats had moved along or docked, so the water just flowed smoothly along, the current almost unnoticeable. There was a half moon reflecting in the water. So do you think youll get married again? she asked without looking at me. Then, as if realizing the enormity of that question, she looked over apologetically. I mean, not yet. I know it hasnt been all that long, but I was just curious. I kept looking out at the water. The dark waters seemed to mirror the darkness I felt, and turning to look at her bright face, in the bright lights of the restaurant, felt like it would be too much to bear. I thought about her question for a long couple of minutes. Most people would have gotten uncomfortable by the silence, but she seemed content to wait me out.
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I exhaled a deep breath. I liked being married. No, I take that back I loved being married. I loved everything about it. Id have never chosen not to be married. She waited for me to finish the thought, but once it was clear that I wasnt going to so she prompted me. But? I finally looked over at her. I was lucky to get married the one time. Where would I ever find someone else crazy enough to marry me? What do you mean? I wasnt sure why I was telling this stranger anything, but her sympathetic look encouraged me to be honest in a way I could never have been with someone I knew. Ive been thinking a lot about it, you know, and I concluded that I dont really have that much to offer, Im afraid. I just dont think its too likely someone else will fall in love with me. You dont? she asked with a wry smile. Hell, just finding someone who thinks Im moderately attractive is pretty unlikely. Callie looked over at the bar. And yet, there are a bunch of guys sitting at the bar who are probably convinced that youre my boyfriend. I looked over, and noticed that a few guys did avert their gazes. I sat a little straighter in my chair. Really? Really. I looked back at her. But theyd be wrong, wouldnt they?
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She just smiled at me.
Chapter 18 We had coffee and dessert, but didnt linger, finishing up soon after those. It took some persuading on my part, but she finally agreed to let me drive her home. It was a bit of a production getting her and the wheelchair into my car not terribly difficult, and she was as self-sufficient as one could be under the circumstances, but still a lot more complicated than with someone who was not impaired. I could see why shed chosen this restaurant, and the deck in particular, as there were wide aisles and unobtrusive ramps that allowed her easy access in and out. It made me think of all the calculations and considerations she had to face for every little bit of her life, and I was awed by her will to live as normal a life as possible. She gave me directions to get to her house, not realizing how well I knew where she lived. When I pulled up to her door she seemed to hesitate, and for a moment I thought she was going to ask me in. The thought filled me with both excitement and fear. She looked down at her legs. You know, back at the restaurant those guys at the bar who thought you could be my boyfriend didnt know I was like this either. So? She looked over at me, and she looked terribly sad. So they didnt realize that I was the flawed one, the one most people wouldnt want to get involved with. Now I was confused. How can you say that?
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Because Ive been like this for seven years. Ive seen how guys react to it. Believe me your wife leaving is not such a big deal, not when you really think about it. Youll find some lucky girl. For a second I didnt know how to react, then on impulse I reached over and took one of her hands. Any man who had a chance to be your boyfriend and didnt take it because of I didnt know how to finish. My disability, she added for me. would be just stupid. Stupid and missing out on a great woman She stared at me, trying to see if she should believe me or not. I dont know what she saw in my eyes, but I meant what I said and I just hoped she could tell. At last she squeezed my hand. Do you mind giving me a hand with the chair? I got out and took the wheelchair from the trunk, and we got her safely back in it. I offered to escort her in, but she shook her head. Ill be fine, she told me. She gave me a warm smile. Maybe next time.
After she went inside I sat in my car for a few moments. I was relieved that I didnt have to try to figure out how to behave if she had invited me up, but I didnt feel like going home to my drab little apartment. I looked up and saw Brewed Heavens lights on, and knew what I wanted to do. As Id hoped, Ray was on duty. He appeared to be the only worker there, and there were only a couple customers sitting around. One was reading in an overstuffed chair, while a couple sat engaged in an animated discussion at one of the outdoor tables. Ray was behind the counter reading. He looked up as I came in but did not smile.
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Hey, Ray. Mr. Sinclair. What happened to Roger? He seemed to relax slightly. Roger, then. Can I get you a cup of coffee? I told him what I wanted and took a seat at the counter. He brought my cup and I took a short sip. He started to wipe up around the machines, keeping busy instead of making conversation. I waited a few minutes, until he finished up and picked up his book. Whats that about? I asked. He looked at me, unsure as to if he wanted to tell me. He seemed to make a decision. Its about the beginning of Islam, and how its rise interacted with Judaism and Christianity. That silenced me momentarily. He didnt seem to be bragging in any sense, just telling me. I thought you read books about physics. He shrugged. I read whatever I find that seems interesting. Uh-huh. He looked at me skeptically. What are you doing here? Get lonely? No, I replied automatically, rubbing my forehead in a vain attempt to ease the pain just a little. I thought for a moment longer. A little. I was just out to dinner with your friend Callie.
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It took a second for that to register, and his eyes widened once it did. You were? His expression implied disapproval. I raised my hands in protest. Im not following her, I swear to God. She called me. Honest. Huh. He didnt seem entirely convinced. She called me up and invited me to dinner. I didnt know what to do, so I went, and I had a good time. You know, she thinks guys dont want to ask her out because of her legs. Ray didnt have to think about it. Shes probably right. I think most guys would think twice about it. I didnt like it, but when I faced the hard facts of it Callie probably had been right. She would know. I suppose so. Another customer came in, a guy in his thirties who wanted an espresso, so Ray had to go serve him. Once hed done that, he went to clean up the area around the stuffed chair, whose inhabitant had also departed. Ray picked up the tip that the guy left sitting by his cup. He came back behind the counter. Hey, Ray, I said casually. Yeah? Feel like going to the baseball game Friday night?
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This time Ray let me pick him up. Hed agreed to come to the game, somewhat to my surprise. We were playing the Brewers, so not exactly a big draw, but he wanted to see the new park. We found our seats in the mid-level section. There was a pretty good crowd, with most of the seats around us pretty full. I pointed to a father with his two sons, who were dragging mitts that looked almost as big as they were. They seemed so excited that they might explode. They remind me of when my dad took me to games. Not here, of course, the old field. Ray didnt say anything, but I saw him watching the kids with something in his eyes. Did your dad ever take you to a game? He just looked at me. No, huh? This time he answered. You had to know my dad. What was he like? Ray looked back at the field, where the players were finishing up their warm-ups. Couldnt tell you. And that was that. The game was pretty well played, and the crowd was into it. There were a bunch of young guys sitting a couple rows above us who were particularly raucous, aided by hefty doses of beer. Initially they were just vocal, cheering on the plays. Then they started to get rowdy. It was harmless at first. They started throwing popcorn at each other around the third inning, which inevitably started spilling over into the rows surrounding them. Ray and I looked at each other and tried to ignore them, but a less patient guy behind us told them to be careful. He threatened to go get security. They laughed at him, but calmed down for a couple batters. It didnt take. Soon enough they started up again, this
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time throwing popcorn and peanuts at three young women sitting to our right. The girls were a little younger than the guys, and seemed to appreciate the attention at first, then they got annoyed and mouthed off at them. Some vulgar expressions were exchanged, which did not sit well with some of the families near us. One of men actually got up and took his wife and kids elsewhere, which the guys just thought was hilarious. The man behind us with the two young boys told them to stop it, but this time they started throwing it right at him, hitting me with a few stray kernels. I felt I had to do something, if only not to embarrass myself in front of Ray. I stood up and raised my hands in supplication, hoping to make them realize theyd gone too far. Instead, they laughed and started making fun of me. Ray looked at me, as if waiting to see what Id do. Im not good with bullies. Ive never been good with bullies. I got beat up a few times in grade school, and tended to shy away from fights after that. To be honest, there hadnt been that many times since grade school where fighting was a real possibility. I always tried to avoid confrontations like this. I knew Ray was waiting to see what I was going to do, and for some reason I didnt want to disappoint him, but I couldnt see confronting these guys. Getting beat up by a bunch of kids at a baseball game would just cap my recent string of indignities. Then the guys made their fatal mistake. They threw some more popcorn at me, and hit Ray with some of it. He reached for a kernel in his hair, and looked at it as if he couldnt believe it. He shook his head slowly, and looked over at me. We shared what I thought was a look of commiseration, about the stupid things that young men drinking at sporting events do. I figured, well, it was just a couple kernels; big deal. I was just hoping theyd leave us alone and bother someone else. I think Ray saw that in my expression, and something in his face first looked sad and then changed into something different, something harder. He stood up.
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In a flash he stepped over the seat into the row above us, closing the distance between him and them in an instant. That surprised them. They stood automatically, although they seemed unsure as to what to do then. There were four of them and only one of him, but Ray was the calmest one of the bunch. Everyone around us quieted and turned away from the game to watch what was going to happen. I was kind of curious myself. Even more, I was agonizing over what the appropriate behavior for me was. Should I stand and back Ray up somehow? He had come with me, and I did like him, but I hadnt counting on him getting me in a fight. Much to my dismay and embarrassment, but I remained where I was. He looked straight at them, no sign of unease showing. Thats enough, guys, he told them in a quiet voice. They didnt quite know what to make of him. I could see the uncertainty cross over their faces. They knew they had him outnumbered, but there was something in his face that worried them. He was about their age, but right now they seemed like a bunch of ten year olds by comparison. There was a decision here for them to make, but when it came it came quietly, without any discussion or negotiation. They just looked sheepishly at each other and, almost as a group, sat down quietly. Ray came back to his seat and sat down without a backward glance, apparently not at all worried they might try something behind his back. He was right. I didnt think of Ray as being intimidating, although that probably had been my impression when Id thought he was robbing me. Even now, it wasnt like he was overtly threatening them. But something about his presence was enough to make them size him up and decide to stop their antics. I thought of that first time I met him, and realized why they might have done so.
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After the seventh inning stretch we went to get some food Ray buying, in return for my having bought the tickets, although the food was almost as expensive and he suggested we go to the upper decks where we could spread out to eat. The crowd was much diminished up there, and we had more space to ourselves. I had a hot dog with all the fixings chili and cheese and relish while Ray got a steak sandwich. I had a beer to wash mine down, but Ray just got a bottle of water. When wed settle down I asked him the question Id been wondering about for several innings. So would you have fought those guys down there? He was chewing a bite and waited to finish it before he answered. He didnt look up from the field. They werent going to fight. I ate some of my hot dog, but couldnt let it drop. After a long pause I had to ask. How did you know? He looked over at me this time. I just knew. But how did you know? He looked back at the field. People are good at different things, you know. Im good at knowing things like that. OK? Maybe by now theyd have had enough beer to be more belligerent, but then theyd have been too drunk to be much trouble to deal with. He knew a world that I was not only unfamiliar with but also afraid of. I let it go. We watched a new pitcher warm up, as well as all of the strange little rituals the other players had for keeping loose. It was like a bunch of over-sized kids playing catch, and I thought about playing catch with my friends as a kid. I wondered if kids nowadays did that, or if they were off playing video games or organized soccer games or something. There didnt seem to be time for something mild like playing catch.
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So you still after that girl Brooke? Ray asked, surprising me. The one you think got you fired? I exhaled. I went a little crazy, I admitted. I needed to blame someone, and I blamed her. I still dont know why she got me fired, but I dont think shes evil or anything. The Brewers shelled the new pitcher, getting a single, a walk, and a double in short order. The manager and the catcher walked out to the mound to talk things over. Ray watched the trio on the mound decide to give the pitcher another try. It proved to be a good decision, as he struck out the rest of the side, allowing only one run in the inning. I didnt think she was behind whatever happened to you, he said. It didnt seem like her. I stared at him in surprise, but he steadfastly just continued to watch the game. It seemed out of character for him to express a view like that about someone, especially about someone he didnt really know, but there it was. I let it go, filing it away for later. The Brewers were ahead by two runs in the eighth, but we rallied and tied it going into the ninth. Then their relief pitcher gave up a home run with one on. He was immediately relieved, and while the new pitcher warmed up I asked Ray about the book he had been reading at Brewed Heaven. Yeah, I finished that. It was very interesting. Did you know Islam shares a lot of the same background as Judaism and Christianity? Id heard that. Its funny, you know. Around a couple thousand years ago, give or take a few hundred years, you basically have the basis for all the major religions. Moses, Jesus, Budda, Mohammed, Lao Lse. Lao Lse? I asked.
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Taoism. Oh, I said, not feeling much more enlightened. What about Hinduism? When did that start? I dont know much about that, he admitted. I guess thats another book. But anyway Anyway, why all those prophets then, and nothing since? Where are all the new religions, the new prophets that God or Allah or whatever talk to? I grinned. Theyre probably locked up in a mental ward, or medicated. Yeah, maybe, he said thoughtfully, not taking my comment as a joke. Its like religions got fossilized back then and now nothing new can get started. Maybe thats good, I dont know, but from what I see, none of them has got a lock on the truth. Youve got a point, I said. The glare of the sun was making my headache worse, and I rubbed my head. I saw Ray noticing it. Id gone to church for years, and never thought about it as much as Ray had, even in my younger years. It seemed rather odd to be having a discussion like this at a baseball game. What do you make of that? He took a swig of his water, focusing on the field. He seemed to be thinking and I let him finish gathering his thoughts. Well, you could look at it a couple ways, he said at last. Hows that?
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Well, maybe the Greeks had it right. Maybe theres a bunch of gods sitting around up in heaven, and they just like to screw around with humans. So maybe a bunch of different gods sent their messengers down. That would explain why we have all these different religions. Uh-huh, I agreed with a noncommittal tone. Is there a second choice? Sure, he said, looking over at me with an almost forlorn smile. Maybe God tried it a few times, and humans just screwed it up. Maybe nobody got the story right, and what we got are all these religions that think theyve got the right answer and no one else does. Hell, even Christians cant get their story straight you got Catholics and Protestants, and lots of different factions of Protestants. Even with Catholics youve got the Greek and the Russian Orthodox in addition to the regular Catholics. I studied him for a few seconds. So what do you make of that? He turned back towards the field. The players didnt seem all that eager to get going again, although some of the fans were growing restless. Maybe God got tired of people not getting it. So he stopped sending the word down, gave up on us. We were silent for a long few seconds. He watched the field intently, while I studied him. Doesnt sound like you are a big churchgoer, huh? He glanced at me briefly. Nah, but Im poor enough, thats for sure. Hows that? Most people I know who are real religious are poor. I figure religion gives them something to hope for, since nothing much else in their lives does. Sort of like the old lottery, you know?
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I go to church. Or, at least, I did. He looked over at me again, with some sympathy. I think rich people just go to church because they see other rich people there. Makes them feel virtuous but it doesnt really cost them anything. Their god doesnt mind them having money. I thought about my church, how well intentioned everyone was but how hard it would be for most of them most of us, I should say to make any true sacrifices in the name of their religion, and couldnt fault Rays logic. On a hunch, I nudged him. You dont buy either one of your two theories, do you? What do you think? He barked out a short laugh, or something that sounded like an approximation of a laugh. No, I think its a cargo cult. A cargo cult? Its an expression from after World War Two. There were these little islands in the Pacific that had never seen Westerners, never had any technology beyond fire. So when the military landed all these planes, with all this great stuff well, they thought they were dealing with gods. I can see that, I said, picturing how shocking planes and watches and guns would all seem to primitive islanders. Whats the cargo cult? After the war the planes stopped coming. The islanders didnt know why. So they starting praying for them to return. They built these altars that looked like planes, I mean, as best they could using trees and coconuts and stuff. He stopped, letting me imagine the futility of these hopeless efforts. So thats what you think religions are? Someone or something visited us and we thought they were God? You believe in extra-territorial life?
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Makes as much sense as the idea of an all powerful God, watching over us. I havent seen much evidence of that. If he was ever there, hes gone now, man. Thats depressing. Ray seemed to go somewhere far away, although he hadnt moved at all. He stared into space for a while, then finally looked around. He looked over at me. I think people just need something to believe in. It almost doesnt matter what. So they believe in all this stuff. It was a good thing we were at a baseball game. A basketball or football game would not have allowed time for such discussions. It wasnt like baseball games typically attracted Rhodes Scholars or anything, but there was something about the measured action and the cool night air that allowed more intellectual discussions like this. Still, I had to admit that having such a discussion while having a loaded hot dog and a cup of beer did seem somewhat incongruous. I regarded him carefully. So what do you believe in, Ray? He smiled with that small, sad smile Id seen before. I believe in getting through the day. If I wake up in the morning then I believe in doing what I have to just to get through the rest of the day. He said it so matter-of-factly that I had to wait a moment for reply. Thats it? Thats it. We watched some of the action a walk and a strikeout on a full count before I realized that he wasnt going to add anything. I still didnt quite understand what he had told me, so in between batters I cautiously tried to pry further. So why is going to college is so important?
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He shrugged. I got about as much chance getting into college as I do going to heaven, and I dont even believe in heaven. So why are you spending time applying to colleges? He resolutely looked out at the field, even though the action still was at a lull again. I noticed hed stopped eating. Because. I pursued my questioning, not sure what I was driving at. Its not like youre stupid or anything. Seems to me youre learning pretty well on your own, what with all these books and all. He just shrugged again. I asked him where he was applying to, and he was slightly more forthcoming. Hed applied to most of the halfway reputable schools in the area, telling me he had to stay in the city because of the conditions of his parole. None had accepted him. Is it your boards? No, theyre pretty good. It just boils down to having no money and a police record, basically. What would you study if you did get in? Ray ate a big bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. I dont know. I used to think about law school but thats out. Same with teaching. He turned and smiled. Guess it will have to be business. They dont seem to mind crooks. By now wed retired the Brewers, and got two men on base. It was getting excited. A sacrifice double scored the two men on base, leaving us only one run behind. The game ended up coming down to the shortstop, who took a two-and-two count and nailed a line
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drive that scored runners on second and third. All in all, it was a great game, especially coming away with the victory. I drove Ray back to the neighborhood. I noticed you rubbing your head a few times back there, he said casually. Your head hurt? In fact, it was throbbing again. I get these headaches sometimes. Migraines? I dont know. Maybe. All I know is that I never used to get them and now I get them all the time. Huh, he said. Maybe you should get that looked at. I was uncomfortable with this line of conversation. There was nothing really wrong with me, and, even if there was, I wouldnt want to admit it. Theyre just headaches. He looked over at me. How long have you been having these? A few weeks, I admitted. That doesnt sound too normal to me. I wanted to change the subject. Should I drop you off at Brewed Heaven or at your house? Im working at Micks tonight. Something in his voice was different. Micks?
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Micks Tavern. Ive never been there. He looked over at me. No kidding. Dont start. Why? Its not your sort of crowd. Micks turned out to be a couple blocks from Brewed Heaven, although Id never noticed it before and almost missed it until pointed it out. I pulled up outside. It looked like it had been there forever, and hadnt been painted or upgraded in all that time. Most of the neon signs for various beers were missing a few letters. What sort of crowd is it? I asked tentatively. Ray looked at the door. Its the sort of crowd you run into in prison. Thats why they like guys like me to bartend. We know how to keep things quiet. I joined him in staring at the door, which now seemed not just rundown but somewhat ominous as well. Maybe Ill pass on that drink, I said. He nodded. Good idea. You never know whats going to happen in Micks. The rules are pretty clear. No one is ever there, and no one sees anything. That way, when the police come around everyones story is the same. Yet you work there. He seemed sad. He took a deep breath. Yeah. Yeah, I do.
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Something sad occurred to me. Hey, Ray? That stuff you said at the game about knowing when people were going to fight? Ray looked over at me. What about it? Did you learn that in prison? He smiled, but it was not a smile that indicated any happiness. It was about as joyless a look as Ive ever seen. No. But its where I got good at it. I nodded, not knowing what else to say. I couldnt even imagine what he might have gone through in prison, and I didnt want to. He looked once more at the door to Micks, and I could almost see the hardness forming a shell around him as he prepared to enter that world. He looked almost as if he were going back to prison itself, and, in a way, I supposed he almost was. He took a deep breath and got out of the car, but he hesitated as he closed the door. There was a softness in his eyes that indicated this was the guy I had come to know, not the Ray who bartended in places like Micks. He leaned in towards the passenger window. So, Roger, what about this girl Callie? Whats up with you and her? Now it was my turn to take a deep breath. I dont know.
Chapter 19 I didnt sleep well that night, and got up the next morning feeling restless and out of sorts. I kept thinking about how selfish Id been lately. One way or another, everything had been about me and what had been done to me. Id always been such an optimistic person, and Id always had plenty of reason to be. Moping around by myself in my little bachelor pad had certainly added to my air of despondencies. Now I realized I didnt like
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the person I was becoming. Id been brought up better, and Id raised my daughter to be better. I was setting a poor example, and I resolved that it was going to stop. It didnt take long to think about what I could do to take my mind off my own problems. I supposed it had been floating around in my unconscious mind for a while and just needed me to focus on it. What Ray had said about just getting through each day, day-by-day, really bothered me. I wasnt entirely sure I believed him the college applications seemed to contradict that picture of hopelessness but there was something in how he said it that made me believe there was some truth to it. I wasnt sure exactly what that truth was, but I felt sure that it was buried in there somewhere. And I wanted to do something about it.
An hour later I was outside Garys house. He lived in a big house in a very exclusive neighborhood. He earned a lot of money at Exly, and I always had the feeling that he came from money. He had that comfort with the lifestyle that I would never have, no matter if I won the Powerball and got fabulously rich. I had an even stronger feeling that he would have lived expensively no matter what his circumstances, confident in my ability to eventually pay for it. I sat in my car trying to steel my will, and at last I got out of the car and went to the front door. Hi, Roger, Teri said when she opened the door. She was cradling her baby boy in the crook of one arm, and I could hear their daughter screaming for her in the background. She looked at me nervously, which let me know she knew at least some of my story. I tried to act nonchalant. Hi, Teri. Is this the new one? Hes very cute. She didnt seem to know what to do with that, other than to smile with the inevitable maternal pride. Hes a handful.
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Must take after his dad, I suggested. I peered past her into the house. Speaking of whom, is Gary around? She frowned just the slightest bit, suspicious that I might be there to get some sort of revenge on her husband. It took a fraction of a second longer than it should have for her to reply. Yes, hes out back. Let me get him. She left me waiting by the door, and a few minutes later Gary returned. He was dressed very much like the posh suburban dad, and whatever he had been doing, it didnt involve sweating or getting dirty. Roger, he greeted me with a cautious tone. I didnt expect you. Ill bet you didnt. Can we talk? He weighed this, and judged it a safe enough bet. Yeah, sure. Lets go to my study. He led me back to his very nice home office, equipped with a full screen TV, fancy sound system, and a full computer set-up. He gestured for me to sit on the couch and pulled his desk chair near. I need a favor I began. He put his hand up. I know, I know, he interrupted. Im working on it. I promise. It is just going to take a little time, thats all. But Im working on it. What do you mean? I asked, puzzled. He gave me a quizzical look. You know -- getting your job back for you. I shook my head. I didnt come here about my job.
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That surprised him. He sat back in his chair a little. You didnt? No. Then may I ask why you did come? he asked. I assume youre not here just to see the baby. I leaned forward, as the couch was threatening to swallow me in its comfortable depths. Are you still connected at Franklin? Gary had gone to Franklin University, as had many of the others powers-that-be in the region. It wasnt Harvard, but it didnt miss by much, and some of its departments would turn their noses down at even that comparison. If you got in to Franklin, doors magically started to open. If you managed to graduate, you had it made in life, as the network of alumni like Gary took care of their own. Yeah, he said, his face showing the expected confusion. Could you get a favor there? If I wanted to. I could see the wheels turning in his head, trying to untangle why I might need a favor here. I doubted he was guessing correctly. I moved to the edge of the couch, only a couple feet away from him. He seemed more nervous now than he had before. I want you to get an interview for a friend of mine. For a job? I shook my head. No. Im not explaining myself very well. I know young guy who would love to go to Franklin, and I want you to help him.
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Gary shook his head. Its not that easy. I smiled at him, and looked around the room. I wanted to remind him of his house, his family, his life. I wanted to remind him of what my silence had cost me and saved him. Sure it is. He chewed thoughtfully on his lip. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at me, calculating rapidly. I couldnt guarantee anything, he said at last. I know. I just want him to have a shot, a fair shot. And hed have to have a plausible record. Im not wasting my time on some kid that scored a 600 on his SATs. I didnt know how good Rays record was, but I thought that was a fair request. Agreed. But the interview has to be with someone way up. Someone who will have an open mind, and have the power to make it happen if he agrees hes worth it. And what all does it entail? Admission, tuition, room and board the full ticket. The guy has nothing. Ray shook his head. Thats asking a hell of a lot, he told me indignantly. Do you know how much it costs to go to Franklin? Thats a hell of a favor. I stood up and walked over to the door. I put my hand on the doorknob. I dont know what it costs to go there, but I have a pretty good idea of what its worth to go there. And I have a very good idea of what my job and my life used to be worth, and what yours still it.
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He stared at me, not with the hostility I feared he might have but with something more like respect. Hed always seemed to like me, I thought, and had always praised me about my work. But this was different. I was showing him a toughness he hadnt seen before. You can make it happen, Gary if you want to. Tell them youll shut off those contributions. Pull some strings with some friends of yours. Make it happen. I could see the wheels turning in his head again, but I wasnt sure what was going to come out until he sighed. He got up and went over to the desk. He picked up a pen. OK. Give me his name and social. I gave him Rays name and address, but admitted I didnt know his phone number or social. I told him that under no circumstances was Ray to know why he got the chance; all he needed to know was if he was getting an interview. He frowned a bit at all this, as it just added to the mystery. After he finished taking down the details he put the pen down and leaned against the edge of the desk. He crossed his arms over his chest. Who is this kid to you, Roger? I exhaled a long breath I hadnt known I was holding. Hes just a guy I know who needs a break. So, youre out of a job, living in some crappy little apartment somewhere because you wife has left you, and youre asking for favors for some guy who you think is worse off than you? What are you, the Good Samaritan? Something like that, I admitted, sounding a little more defensive than I intended. He eyed me for a moment. Youre not he said, purposely letting his sentence trail off. Of course not! I responded, astounded at the hint of the suggestion. Are you crazy?
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Just checking, he assured me, still studying me to try to figure out what my angle was. He seemed to make a decision, although he still looked as though it bugged him that he couldnt figure it out. All right, Ill make a call. Assuming your boy checks out, Ill keep my end of the bargain. I was relieved beyond words. I started to turn the doorknob to go, but he surprised me by calling out my name. I turned back to him. He had an expression on his face that I could only describe as amused, although for the life of me I couldnt figure out why. Then, just as soon as Id seen it, it was gone, replaced by an expression I knew all too well: his bargaining face. I need a favor too. My jaw dropped. The way I saw it, he was repaying a favor as it was. Id kept my mouth shut about Cheryl, and he owed me for that. I didnt owe him anything else. Youre kidding. He smiled expansively. You can never have too many favors in the bank, Roger. Do this and Ill owe you another. Only Gary would have the balls to ask for something else at a time like this. What? Steve Boyce is coming in next week. I want you to have lunch with him. Boyce was the CEO of AMK Inc, the company that sold the system we used for the financial system Id gotten Exly to buy and install, with Garys help. Id become quite an expert on their products, and had often been involved in their early beta tests and user groups. Id never met Boyce, but Id heard good things about him. So? Why would I have lunch with him? He wants to talk to someone who knows what weve done with them. Who better than you? You know that shit better than anyone else, and, besides, you dont have any axe to grind now. You can be completely honest. Tell the man whatever he wants to know.
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Gary was up to something. I knew it but I couldnt figure out what it was. Knowing Gary, it would be good for his career. Maybe Boyce wanted to ask me about Gary himself, which would be a big leap of faith on Garys part. On the other hand, I hadnt given him up yet, so he might be right to send me to sing his praises. I decided it was pointless for me to try to second guess him, and figured that agreeing to the lunch could only help with his intervention for Ray. I told Gary to have Boyce call me.
Chapter 20 Gary called me Monday afternoon to say that things were a go for Ray. Your boy isnt entirely a waste of time, it seems, he told me with an air of amusement. They checked out his application, and I gave them a good push. They agreed to give him every due consideration. Quote unquote. Theyll call him in the next couple days. Thats great! I exclaimed. Then the worry of logistics struck me. Oh, I dont know if hes got a phone. So theyll send him a letter, he replied calmly. Theyll figure something out. I got him in the door, but its up to him to make his case. Fair enough. Gary was still working his own angle. Hed made the arrangements with Boyce, so that Thursday I found myself at a quiet but expensive downtown restaurant. I was dressed neatly but hadnt even bothered putting on a suit, figuring there was no reason for me to try to impress him. Id had a couple of interviews or networking meetings earlier in the week, so I figured that my quota was taken care of.
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Boyce was in his mid-fifties, with graying hair and friendly eyes. He wasnt wearing a suit either, which helped put me further at ease. Steve Boyce, he said, extending a hand to shake. You must be Roger Sinclair. We shook and the hostess escorted us to our table, a secluded booth in the back of the room where we would have some privacy. We made some small talk, caught up on a couple of the few people we knew in common, and finally looked at the menu to order. The lunch lasted much longer than expected. It was past three before he finally paid the bill, getting relieved looks from the staff, since all the other patrons had departed long ago. We really hit it off. Boyce had started out as a programmer, but he was years past his programming days. So my more business oriented background meshed pretty well with his current level of knowledge. We started off with a general discussion of the products wed implemented at Exly, but it only started to get interesting when I described some of the adaptations wed made to fit them to a broader set of uses. Once I got on a roll, I told him my thoughts about their technical support, their product development cycle, and my analysis of how they stacked up with their competitors. I was increasingly honest and expansive as he drew me out with his patient listening and thoughtful questions. He might have just been playing me, but he seemed genuinely interested in my thoughts about everything. After all, Id spent the past couple months feeling pretty much like a loser, so for a few hours I was reminded what it felt like to have opinions of value. By the time we had coffee and some dessert he felt comfortable enough to ask me about my job prospects. Maybe it was the coffee, maybe it was the fact that I didnt have any expectations, or maybe Id just grown comfortable with him, but instead of pretending all was going well I decided to be honest. Its not going so great, to tell you the truth. He nodded, not surprised. Gary told me there were someproblems. He said it with such delicacy that it almost sounded like no big deal.
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I made a laughing sort of sound, at which he had to suppress a smile. Yeah, you could say that. He told me not to worry about it, that things would work out, and told me hed keep his ears open for me. I didnt really believe it, but I was grateful for him being so nice about it. We shook hands and agreed to keep in touch.
I was feeling kind of charged up, plus I was really curious about what was happening with Rays interview at Franklin. So I drove over to Brewed Heaven to see if he was on duty. He was, and raised an eyebrow in greeting when I came in. I waited for him to finish serving a couple of people in line. Hey, he said by way of greeting. Hello, yourself. Busy afternoon? I asked, nodding my head at the tables of latte, coffee, and espresso drinkers, all busily engaged in conversation or contemplation. Usual, he said without looking at them. Im glad you stopped by. I want to talk to you about something. Whats that? He suggested I grab a table, and I waited while he cleaned up behind the counter. He checked the room for any new customers or demands from any of the existing ones, then came and sat down at my table. He took a piece of paper out of his backpack and carefully smoothed it out for me. Whats that? I asked, eyeing it with open curiosity. I could see it had the Franklin letterhead.
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He pushed it over to me. I picked it up and read it, once quickly to get the gist of it and then again more carefully to make sure Id gotten it right. He watched me with his usual neutral expression, as though it was of no great importance to him. The letter was from the office of Franklins president, asking him to contact them about coming in for an interview as soon as was convenient for him. Wow, I said. Thats pretty cool. So when are you going? I put the letter down on the table in front of me. He pulled the letter back from the table with a finger, and picked it up. He read it again, as though he hadnt seen it before. Then he put it back down. He seemed just the slightest bit unsettled, although one had to look very carefully to see it. I dont know if I am going. That surprised me. Why not? I asked carefully, trying to keep either surprise or dismay out of my voice. I mean, whats the point? Theyll never let me in, and I couldnt afford it if they did. Id be wasting my time and theirs. I nodded judiciously, trying not to rush into a response. Look its a chance. You dont have anything to lose, do you? I could make a fool out of myself. I mean, seriously -- I have a criminal record, a GED, and a resume that looks like it fits a loser like me. He sounded entirely dispassionate about his self-analysis, not showing any signs of doubt or remorse. It was how he seemed to just accept a fate that left him with no hope of anything better that really disturbed me. I thought back to his one day at a time attitude. Ray, dont be an idiot, I said in my best Bill Cosby father-knows-best voice. You gotta do this. Even if you think theres no chance, its good experience for you to be in those situations.
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He gave me a wry look. Yeah? Experience for what other kinds of situations like this that Im going to have? His voice sounded sarcastic, and I had to admit he sort of had a point. Still, I wasnt just going to concede. You never know. He nodded, chewing his lip. Anyway, what would I tell them? Tell them the truth. Ray looked away, thinking of some other time, some other place that was far away from my life but, evidently, not from his. The truth? Now, thats a funny thing, he said, not sounding at all amused. He turned back towards me and raised his palms in a gesture of helplessness. I dont even know how to act or what the right things to say are. I had to suppress a smile. He normally seemed weathered and wise way beyond his years, but right now I could see that at least a part of him was still a kid, not sure how to act in a more adult situation. I thought of what Id tell Bridget in the same situation. So I smiled and put my hands on the table. Just be yourself. Thats good enough. It occurred to me that I had never been in less of a position to give anyone advice about life, but Ray seemed to take my words seriously. I could almost seem him running through the different scenarios in his head. We both looked up at the sound of the door opening, Ray already rising to resume his position behind the counter and sweeping the letter up with him. And who should it turn out to be but Callie? She rolled in, followed by a tall, good-looking man who had nothing but smiles for her. They were laughing at some shared joke or story, and Callie caught my eye before I could react or look away. Roger! she yelled in greeting, unconcerned about the appraising looks from the other customers. She sounded happy to see me, and it lifted my spirits. It struck me that they looked first at her wheelchair, but they continued to look at her beauty or the evident force of her personality. Out of the
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corner of my eye I could see people look quickly at the man following her, to try to figure out what he was to her. Callie came over to my table, and introduced me to her trailing companion. Roger, this is Tony McKenzie, she said with a smile. Tony, Roger. We shook hands like gentlemen, and he offered to get their coffee. The usual? he asked with an air of knowing certainty. Something about the way he said it caused a pang in me, a pang I at first couldnt quite identify and even then couldnt understand. Nice looking guy, I said, watching him go to the counter and order from Ray. Ray took his order with an entirely professional expression on his face, showing no signs that he knew me. Friend of yours? Oh, Tony and I go way back, she said with a bright smile. Looks like you have a new friend too. She raised her eyebrows with an exaggerated expression. Ray? Yeah, weve become kind of friendly. Tony returned with two cups of coffee and stood behind Callie. He didnt move to take a seat, and I kind of got the impression he wanted them to sit by themselves. Callie looked steadily at me, then raised her face towards him. Hey, grab a seat, that is, if Roger doesnt mind. I think my face got a little red, but I politely told them it was OK. Tony sat down and Callie pulled closer to the table. She explained that theyd been working at her apartment and had decided to take a break. Callie noticed I didnt have anything to drink and asked if I wanted something. I felt like an outsider. It seemed clear to me that the two of them knew each other well, and that Tony was not too keen on sharing her with me. He seemed well suited to her. He was tall, young, handsome, and a fit for her in a way I could never hope to be even on
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my best days, not even when I was his age. When I was his age I was already a father and worrying about paying bills. I had no illusions that Callie was interested in me, but seeing someone who she might well be interested in depressed me more than it had any right to. Ive got to be going, I told her, trying to force a smile. I just came in to um, talk to Ray about something. Callie seemed interested by this, eying me with some added curiosity, but she didnt look over at Ray. Nor was Ray paying any more attention to us than any other table. Meanwhile, Tony was looking around the room trying to figure out who Ray might be, before realizing at last that I was referring to the guy whod served him coffee. He looked back at me with a faint whisper of a smile; Id succeeded in cementing his impression of me. I felt even more like a loser. Nice meeting you, he said with a forced air of sincerity. The guy wasnt even going to pretend to want me to stay, and I hated him for it. Callies eyes twinkled as she took in the unspoken tension between her two men. No, it wasnt really tension; it was more like an unseen ego-wrestling match that I was sadly under-equipped for. She let me stand up and turn to leave before she reached out and put her hand on my arm to stop me. Hey, she said with a warm smile that melted away any resistance I might have had before it could fully form. Have dinner with me tonight.
Chapter 21 So it was that I found myself outside Callies building at eight that night. Id protested, once Id recovered from my surprise, but shed been insistent. Id actually been kind of embarrassed, especially with her friend Tony sitting right there. Id been unable to gauge his reaction. Nor had I seen if Ray had paid any attention to her unexpected offer. Callie came out just a couple minutes late. She was wearing an almost translucent blouse, with long sleeves and large, unbuttoned cuffs. Underneath she had on some sort
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of camisole, so it wasnt like one could really see anything, but the overall effect was sexy as hell. She also had on Capri pants and sandals. We got her situated in my car, and she directed me to an Indian restaurant she said was very good, where we repeated the logistics in reverse. Over our pratha, while we were waiting for our main course, I tried to casually inquire about her relationship with Tony. She laughed and seemed to sparkle. The candles on the table cast a mysterious and ever changing light on her that suited her very well. Tony? she replied with a smile. Oh, Ive known Tony forever. We were working on a project and needed a little break. Thats why its so nice to have Brewed Heaven nearby. I waited for a long moment, but it did not seem like she was going to elaborate. Are you and Tony I let the sentence linger, and she deliberately let it linger a few moments longer just to watch me dangle. No, of course not. Tony is just a good friend and someone I do a lot of work with, she said. Not that I havent thought about it. But? But neither of us has ever done anything about it. He usually has a girlfriend anyway, some young beautiful thing. Youre young and beautiful. A pleased expression crossed her face. Arent you sweet? she exclaimed. Much as I might like to think so, most men dont seem to agree. Of course, there are these. Her head dropped to indicate her legs.
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I really didnt know how to respond to that. Callie didnt seem to be feeling sorry about her infirmity. She seemed to regard her being crippled in much the same way that other women might complain about their thighs being too big. Still, I could imagine it wouldnt be so easy even for someone as special as Callie to meet a boyfriend. Anyway, she said, back to her more chipper tone. How was your day? A slow smile crossed my face before I realized it. I had a pretty good day, I told her, the truth of it not really having hit me until this moment. For once, the day hadnt been a complete waste. First lunch with Boyce, then Rays good news, and now dinner. Our food looked good, the restaurant was small and intimate, and the candle on our table cocooned us in our own private sphere of light. I was alone with a pretty young woman having a nice conversation. My headache even seemed better. Having dinner with Callie capped the day off almost as nicely as I could have hoped for. Probably more than I could have hoped for. Yeah, a pretty good day. She seemed interested. Tell me about it. So I told her about my long lunch with Boyce, which lead to a bit of a detour about what his company did and how I knew them. I also had to explain why I was meeting with him, that it wasnt a job interview but that my former boss thought I was best qualified to tell him how things worked. I avoided mentioning the name of the company Id worked for, not wanting her to connect me to Brooke. But I was not surprised when we got into some tricky waters. So, your job. Tell me again why did you leave? she asked, leaning forward a bit. The candlelight played on her face, casting flickering shadows on it in complex ways that made her seem even more mysterious. I actually leaned back a little and let out a slow breath. Its stupid.
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What? I looked over at some of the other tables. There were several people who looked like they were Indian, plus a few young people who looked like they might be graduate students. Both of these seemed to me to vouchsafe for the food here. But I knew I couldnt quite avoid her question. I looked back at her and shrugged. I did something dumb and it escalated into a big deal. I got caught up in the politics of it and, well, here I am. I raised my hands helplessly. She studied me with an appraising eye. Not a critical eye, I thought, but a very penetrating yet sympathetic gaze. I didnt think she was judging me, but I thought she might be deciding something. I didnt know what. This dumb thing that you did, she said at last, picking up her water glass and looking intently at it. Did someone get hurt because of it? My mouth dropped. She saw my reaction and quickly put down the glass. I mean, you dont need to tell me what it was. I just meant did you lie or cheat or hurt someones career or something? No, I replied quickly. Of course not. I didnt think so, she agreed solemnly. It may seem sort of odd, but I really hadnt thought about the whole sordid affair in quite that light. I had been stupid, but not malicious. Callie had penetrated it with a brilliant insight that hit the heart of the mater. I suddenly felt ten years younger, which, unfortunately, still left me more than ten years older than this smart woman across the table from me.
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I must have given off a bit of a glow that she noticed. She smiled at me encouragingly. So what else good happened today, besides your lunch? Well, Im having dinner with a nice young lady, I said with as much gallantry and sincerity as I could muster. Once again you say something sweet, she told me. So what were you talking about with that guy at Brewed Heaven? When Tony and I came in it looked like you were pretty engrossed in something. Whats his name again? Ray. Thats right, I knew that, she said thoughtfully. Ray. I see him there a lot. He seems like a nice guy, but hes very quiet. He doesnt really talk to people the way a lot of the staff in there do. No, hes not much into small talk, I agreed, amused by her assessment. But he talks to you? Yeah, I admitted with a wry small. I couldnt really have explained to her why it happened, but it had happened. Weve become kind of friendly. Weve been to a couple of ball games and such. Hes a nice guy. Hes really bright too. Callie watched me with the wheels turning behind her eyes. Hmm. I can see that, she decided, thinking back to past experiences. So what were you guys talking about? By now, of course, our food had arrived and we paused to sample some of the different dishes wed ordered. Kathryn had been more adventurous than me about food, and Indian was not on our usual circuit. Id let Callie picked a few things for us to share, and
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I was finding that I wished Id had a guide like her years before. Shed ordered some curried chicken, a lentil dish, some mixed vegetables, and a couple of stuffed breads. It was all spicy and very delicious. I thought about how much I should share with her. I did him a favor, I told her. Only he doesnt know it. Oh, real-l-l-l-y? Callie arched her eyebrows to invite me to continue. In the face of such an invitation, I was helpless to resist. So I told her how Ray had never gone to college, and Id asked my former boss to get him an interview with Franklin. Wow, she said in surprise. That was nice of you. But this is your boss from the job you just left? Yeah. He owes me a big favor. She nodded and pursed her lips in what seemed like mock thoughtfulness. He owes you a big favor. Youre out of a job and you call in the favor by asking him to help this friend of yours, a guy whom you havent known all that long and who wont even know that you did it for him? Something like that, I admitted, feeling a bit sheepish. It did sound sort of selfreckless, given my current economic prospects. Gary had said much the same thing. To be honest, though, I hadnt really considered trying to push Gary about helping me to find a new job. I guess I figured hed either do it or he wouldnt do it, and pressuring him wouldnt really matter either way. Doing this for Ray, though, was something hed never do unless I insisted. Callie paused to dab at her lip with a napkin. She took a sip of water too, and gave me a frank stare. Roger, youre an unusual guy.
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I must have blushed. Not really. No, really. Were you this nice to your wife? It hurt a little to think about it, but mostly it just made me sad. I attempted a small smile but my mouth didnt quite make it. I tried to be. She shook her head disapprovingly. She must have been crazy to leave you. Some other woman is going to be very lucky. I stared at her. What do you mean? She grinned conspiratorially at me. You know, the woman who falls in love with you and snaps you up. Im sure it wont take long, as sweet as you are. Now all those years that had shed away earlier in the year fell back on me again, heavier than ever. I dont think so, I told her with some heaviness. I told you before I dont think Im ever going to fall in love or get involved again. She looked at me with a disappointed expression on her face. Dont give me that shit again. Do you not want to get involved again? I shrugged. To tell you the truth, I never thought Id have to worry about it. Now I just think, well, Im too old, and, when it comes right down to it, Im not very outgoing. I wouldnt know how to meet someone. You meet people every day. Theres probably half a dozen women in here right now that you could say hello to if you wanted to. Callies face seemed serious, but I thought maybe she was teasing me a little. I looked around the room at these supposed available other women, and found no one paying me
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any attention. Discouraged, I shook my head. I just dont think Im the kind of guy who women find attractive. You dont? No. I mean, no one in here is looking at me. Im looking at you. I waved my hand dismissively. You know what I mean. Ive seen how women treat me -- like I was invisible. I think thats the rest of my life, being overlooked by women, at least as far as relationships go. And, you know, I cant really blame them. I noticed that my headache was back, in full force. Wed finished up our food well, wed eaten as much as we could, although there was lots left. She put down her napkin and motioned for the check. No, Ill get it, I said. Hey, I invited you, she reminded me. My treat. Its my special day, I reminded her. Dinner with you was the nicest ending I could ask for. I insist. Really? she asked, her tone curiously absent, as though she was suddenly thinking of something else. Really, I said firmly, taking the bill. I paid and we got her back in the car. I drove her home and pulled up outside her building, the car running. I got out and took her wheelchair out of the trunk, then helped her out of the car. We stood there on the sidewalk a moment. She was looking up at me with that appraising gaze again. Want to come up for a bit?
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Chapter 22 I wish I could say that her apartment was what Id imagined, but, to be honest, Id never really had the imagination to think about it. Instead, I can say that, once I saw it, I thought it fit her perfectly. For one thing, it had been very carefully retooled to be wheelchair accessible, done so in such a subtle way that, if a visitor did not know the person living in it was handicapped, they might be forgiven if they concluded that the occupant simply liked slopes, was short, or just was somewhat eccentric. Ramps were positioned so that Callie could cook from her wheelchair if she had to, or get things from the cabinets, but the refrigerator and stove opened normally. Bookcases and tabletops were just the right height for her, and the furniture was generally easy-in, easy-out. Everything was rather charming in its way, and was done so well that neither Callie nor her guests would feel awkward or out of place. For another thing, the place was filled with unique decorating touches, from small sculptures scattered around to what appeared to be original drawings, paintings, and other original artwork of hard-to-describe types. I thought I detected some resemblance to Callie in one of the drawings and one of the small sculptures. I wondered if she had posed or if some artist friends had done her from memory. Her furniture was a little sparse allowing lots of unfettered access around the rooms, I concluded and rather eclectic. Definitely not the kind of furniture one got at a department store furniture gallery. It was more like the kind of furniture that IKEA might try to do a cheaper knock-off of. Some of pieces the intricately inlaid coffee table, for example -- looked like they were originals, although built by whom, I couldnt say. They were beyond my skills, but I could imagine her with some artisan friends who would be thrilled to make them for her. When she showed me around she seemed particularly proud of her work area, which had a big drawing table as well as a nice Mac workstation and accessories. Would you like a drink? Callie asked. I make a mean martini, if I do say so myself.
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Im not much of a martini drinker and I did have that drive home yet, but I didnt want to be anti-social. Plus, I was kind of nervous, to be honest. Sure. While she went over to a small wet bar to make the drinks, I continued to look around. I stopped in front of a collection of photographs and studied them. Some were of her before the wheelchair, and some were after. She had a wide circle of friends, and there were a wide variety of activities pictured both pre and post wheelchair. What caught me short was the montage with Brooke Haywood. Shes a pretty girl, isnt she? Callie said, catching me unawares and handing me a drink. She raised hers. Cheers. Yes, she is, I managed to blurt out. I gulped down a sip of my own drink, which, I had to admit, was pretty good. Strong but smooth. I shouldnt have been surprised, of course. I knew they were close, and I should have expected some signs of Brooke in the apartment. But somehow Id managed to forget that Brooke was the reason I even knew Callie, and now here she was figuratively staring me in the face. You like her? Youve been staring at her for a while. I turned away and looked at Callie. I smiled weakly. No, you two just seem close in these pictures. Who is she? A friend of yours? Callie took a measured sip of her drink. She gave me a broad smile. Yes, Id say so. Shes my sister.
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With that she turned and rolled away, heading over to one of the sitting areas. She turned her head when she realized I was still standing there rooted in my place. Cmon, she chided me playfully. Dutifully I followed her and sat down on the couch. She maneuvered herself off her chair and on to the couch next to me, then picked up her drink nonchalantly. Meanwhile, my head was spinning. A sister? Callie was Brookes sister? They didnt really look alike and nothing from what I knew about either of them led me to think that they shared many traits. I hoped but somehow didnt really think Callie was talking about some old sorority chum when she used that word. Callie used the remote to turn on some music, a female singer with a sultry voice I didnt recognize. She sipped her drink and eyed me carefully. I took a larger gulp of my drink than I intended, or maybe it was just stronger than I expected, but in any event it caused me to cough. So, do you really think you arent ever going to find anyone ever again? she asked. I didnt have to think much about that. Plus, I was still too stunned about Brooke to really form coherent thoughts. No. I mean, yes. I dont think so. She shook her head sadly. Why? You really think youre too old? I mean, lots of men who are older than you are get remarried. And to much younger women sometimes. I studied my glass just to avoid her piercing gaze. I like this music. Who is it? Dont avoid the subject, she chided me mildly. But, for the record, its a compilation of some British singers I like Julia Fordham, Everything But the Girl, Beth Orton, Lisa Stansfield. Warm and romantic songs.
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I hadnt even realized there were different voices, but even more I wondered about why shed put that particular music on. I concluded it must have just been what was in the CD player when she turned it on. You didnt answer my question, she pointed out. No, I guess I didnt, I admitted. My head still hadnt absorbed the realization that Brooke was her sister. It was a possibility Id never considered, yet it explained so much so easily. I cursed myself for my stupidity. And now her question, making me think about something Id been avoiding thinking about. I hadnt wanted to think about dating and other women, but from her expression I didnt think she was going to let me off the hook. I exhaled a deep breath I hadnt realized I was holding. Ive decided I must have a character flaw. A character flaw? she repeated, raising an eyebrow. Whats that? I took another drink to try to quell my nerves. Its not that my wife left me or that I lost my job. Thats good, because those arent a character flaws. Theyre just things that happen. Its that I let it all happen. She watched me and seemed to consider what Id said. So all those good years dont count for anything? I shook my head. They just softened me up for the blow, made everything more valuable before I lost them. Thats why its a character flaw that I just let it all happen. She took a short drink and studied me thoughtfully. I honestly had no idea what she was thinking, but what she asked next wasnt even remotely in the realm of possibilities that flashed through my head. So, tell me, Roger do you find me attractive?
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My face probably reddened from remembering how Id thought she and her sister were lovers. And now she was asking if I thought she was attractive? I felt like an idiot, like a suburban station wagon that took the wrong turn and found itself in a NASCAR race. Everything was happening way too quickly and flying by me. Callie must have noticed my face and thought it was in response to her question. Ahh, Ive embarrassed you, she said in a teasing voice. Look, if you dont think so, its OK. I could only stare at her. The room was softly lit, and she seemed framed by a background glow. She looked as pretty as a picture; if her artist friends had been there they would have insisted on painting her to record her beauty. Her face, her hair, her body so strong and supple even in repose on the couch. She was perfect just sitting there. Youve got to be kidding, I managed to say. Youre gorgeous. She pouted as though she were disappointed by my response, and waved it away with a hand. Thanks, but thats not what I asked. I asked if you were attracted to me. Now my stare was something more like a gape. I felt like a dull child outwitted by a much smarter adult. What do you mean? She put her drink down on an end table, then leaned over and carefully took the martini glass from my hand, placing it on the table in front of the couch. I mean -- am I the kind of woman you find attractive? I hadnt really thought about it, I told her in total honesty. She smiled knowingly. Well, think about it. She leaned back, intentionally or unintentionally giving me a fuller view of her body. Well, I think that most people I started.
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Stop it, she commanded. Cut all that crap and just tell me what you think. There was nothing to do but tell her the truth. Well, of course. Who wouldnt? Youd be surprised, she told me slyly, alluding to difficulties I didnt know about. Frankly, I couldnt imagine who wouldnt find her absolutely irresistible, and wondered where she was going with this. What about these? she asked, gesturing to her long but sadly useless legs. Dont they spoil it for you? I hadnt had that much to drink, but I felt curiously intoxicated. Some combination of the alcohol, being alone with a beautiful woman in her apartment after so many years of being with just one woman, and the unsettling conversation wed been having all made me more reckless than I should have been. Without reflecting on the wisdom of it, I reached over and cupped her cheek tenderly with the palm of my right hand. I hadnt known what a good response would be, but it appeared this one wasnt too bad. Slowly, ever so slowly, she reached up with her hand and covered mine with hers, while her eyes misted up slightly. We stayed in that little tableau for what seemed like minutes but which was probably just a couple seconds. Roger? she said at last. Yes? My voice was hoarse. Could you put me in my chair? Shed never asked for help before, and I thought it was rather odd that she was asking now. Perhaps she didnt know any better than I did how to continue from our little frozen moment. With great care I gathered her up in my arms and placed her into her wheelchair. Ill just be a few minutes, she promised.
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She wheeled into her bedroom and partially closed the door. I heard another door close and then the sound of some running water. I assumed she was going to the bathroom, and didnt want to think about how difficult that process must be for her. I was glad she hadnt asked me for help in that regard. I stood up and wandered around the apartment, inevitably drawn to her pictures again. At first I couldnt resist looking at the pictures of her and Brooke, looking desperately for the clues I should have been able to see, and yet still could not come up with. They were so different. You could see that Callie was the livelier one, the one who must be the leader between the two of them, or, indeed, with their circle of friends. The more I studied the photographic record of her past, though, the more I stared at the ones of her when she was able to walk. Skiing, hanging out with friends, playing volleyball on the beach. She looked great in a bathing suit, by the way. Even in the pictures, she had an air of grace about her. That in itself was no surprise, because she still largely retained that grace despite her disability, but it made me sad to think about what shed lost. From the pictures, it wasnt all that long ago that shed been forced into her chair. It was hard to judge her age in many of the pictures, but I had to guess that shed still been walking in her twenties. I couldnt imagine how difficult that transition must have been. Roger? Her voice floated softly out of her bedroom through the partly opened door which I now wondered if it had been left open for just this situation. Yes? Could you come here? I figured she must need help with something, so I got up and walked to the bedroom. I stopped a couple feet inside the room and I realized what I was seeing.
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The room was illuminated by a dozen or so candles scattered around the room, framing the bed. Which, by the way, featured Callie laying in it under a sheet. Her naked shoulders were apparent at the top of the sheet, suggesting that she was similarly unclothed beneath the sheet. Her clothes lay neatly folded on the chair near the bed, confirming the fact. He long hair spilled carelessly out onto the pillow in a way that was crazy sexy. Well, come on in, she cooed. My feet were immobile, as though they were encased in cement. W-w-whats going on? I stammered. I couldnt believe what I was seeing. She seemed amused. What do you think is going on? I want to sleep with you. I want you to sleep with me. Or is that too much of a euphemism for you? I want to have sex with you, OK? My mouth gaped open. I managed to close it, but didnt manage to move my legs any further. Had I been able to move, Im still not sure if I would have come closer to her, or run away like a thief in the night. The flood of thoughts that passed through my head were a jumble. Unfortunately, one thought dominated. I cant, I said at last, more sorrowfully than I think Id ever said anything in my life. She was the most beautiful thing Id ever seen. Except that beautiful wasnt the word that popped into my head, although she was. No, the word that the sight of her made me think of was luscious, curiously enough. She was so tender andripe, waiting for someone me, evidently, to sample her flavors. I stood there seeing her and found myself torn by her extremes. She was strong yet vulnerable. Naked under the sheet but covered by it. Confident yet with a hint of insecurity about whether I would find her appealing. A marvelous well-toned, nubile young body that, alas, only worked from the legs up. All this and she was offering herself to me. I was lucky my head hadnt exploded.
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She frowned. Why not? Dont tell me its that shit about being too old or unattractive, because, let me tell you, neither is remotely true. I wished her words would make me feel better, but they didnt. She was too innocent, and I knew I couldnt take advantage of that sweet innocence. I dont believe you, but thanks anyway, I told her regretfully. Thats not it. Her face registered a heartbreakingly complex series of emotions as she tried to understand why I might be refusing the very generous offer of her bed and her body. To be honest, I was trying to really understand it myself, and there were parts of me especially down south, so to speak that had an entirely different view of the whole proposition. Then what is it? Is it your wife? Do you feel guilty or something? No, not guilty, I admitted. Then what? Are you afraid shell come back and youd have to explain this to her? I shook my head. No, shes not coming back. If I hadnt yet fully admitted that to myself, this was the moment when I could no longer avoid the finality of our break. Then what? You get offers like this every day? She smiled and stretched a little, exposing a little more of her chest at the top of the sheet. I could see how the sheet formed itself to her well-rounded body like an evening dress. She was about as beautiful as anything Id ever seen or could ever hope to see. I thought for a woman like her to want to have sex with me, she must be desperate or incredibly generous. No, Ive never been so lucky, I told her, forcing a smile. The smile slowly faded. I was going to have to tell her the truth at least, some of it. The thing is, I dont deserve it. Why not? She looked at me skeptically.
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I just dont. There are things about me you dont know. I thought Id lived a pretty good life, but clearly Id reached the bottom of my experiences when Id blamed the ruin of my life on Brooke. No, Id reached the nadir when Id stalked her and wanted to ruin her life in return. That was the only reason I was here tonight, because Id been trying to get to Brooke by following Callie. She thought I was some nice guy temporarily thrown off by mid-life changes, and all I needed was to get back on the horse, figuratively speaking, and she was that horse. I couldnt tell her all that, of course, but the least I could do was not to take advantage of her by going along with her proposition. Then she dropped the bombshell. Is it because of my sister? she asked quietly, watching me closely. I recoiled in surprise. It was as if she had been reading my mind, and it scared me. What do you mean? Isnt she why you lost your job? I was stunned. It was bad enough that Callie turned out to be Brookes sister, but ashamed wasnt quite a strong enough word to describe how I felt that she knew my history with her especially the bad parts. I didnt know what to say, so I stood there with my mouth open again and stared at her with wide eyes. She noted my reaction and smiled almost to herself in small satisfaction. You said something stupid to her and thats why you lost your job, she continued calmly. Frankly, she told me what you said and I didnt think it was a big deal, but Brooke has always been kind of a prude, if you ask me. You knew? I blurted out.
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She nodded. Of course I knew. And I know that you were following her around. At first I worried about it, but even Brooke wasnt concerned. Despite everything, she told me that you were too nice a guy to hurt anyone. But if you knew Why did I pick you up? she finished for me. She paused and seemed to think about it. I think it was the balloon. Her tone was more thoughtful than anything else. It took me a few seconds to make the connection, back to my little heroics on behalf of the little girl in the park. She watched until she saw recognition on my face, and then she smiled warmly at me. I wanted to see for myself. Shed always told me good things about you, even after the, umm, incident. We saw you that day in the park, and I was so touched when you rescued that little girls balloon for her. I thought, now what kind of a man is that? Her smile was amused and fond at the same time. You saw me? I finally was able to gasp, my capacity for surprise evidently still not satiated. Of course. We spotted you early on. Then when I saw you at the health club I decided I had to meet you, and the rest is history. She nodded meaningfully at me, and our eyes met. Now come to bed, she said, patting a spot on the bed next to her tenderly. Much to my surprise, I found my feet were still working after all. Even more surprising, that wasnt all that was still working.
Chapter 23 The sex was, in a word, amazing.
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They say that people who lose one of their senses have compensating increases to the remaining ones. For example, blind people having better hearing. Callie had lost sensation in roughly half of her body so perhaps the remaining half of her body had twice the sensitivity as a so-called normal person. Or so it seemed to me as I touched her and saw her take pleasure in the slightest touch, the softest kiss. I have to admit that it had been a lifetime almost Callies whole lifetime, in fact -- since Id made love to a woman other than Kathryn. It had been that long since Id seen a woman other than my wife naked, aside from the enhanced celluloid figures in movies or magazines. So part of it was just the novelty of the thing. But part of it a larger part in fact, was Callie herself. Id always thought of Kathryn as a passionate woman, and of myself as a considerate if not quite world-class lover. We had a good sex life, dulled somewhat over the years but still active and enjoyable right until she walked out on me. But Callie, well, she was in a class by herself. She used her hands, her mouth, and, indeed, every part of her that could move, in ways that brought me pleasure. And she helped me understood every part of her that could feel, and to bring her pleasure. I learned more about making love that night than Id learned from all my years of marriage, got more tips than reading Playboy religiously would have ever taught me. If youd have asked me how Id be in a situation like this, I would have expected that Id be incredibly nervous. I mean, first new woman and all. And in fact, I was. But Callie made it all seem so natural. We took it slow at first, as we learned each others bodies and as she guided me on a thrilling tour of her body. She took such obvious pleasure in it that it brought me pleasure as well, almost making me forget about satisfying my own desire. Almost. Using a condom was a first for me Kathryn was on the Pill when we first met, and a few years after Bridget I had a vasectomy but she showed me that the somewhat
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diminished sensation was more than offset by a longer ability to sustain being inside her before climax. So how was it? Callie asked me afterwards. I was still kind of astounded by the whole turn of events, but still caught the slight twinge of insecurity in her voice. What? I mean, I know it was your first time since your wife and all. I was afraid it would be weird or something. Well, it was weird, I had to admit, but in a good way. Still, I didnt think that was what she was really asking. It was amazing, I told her with complete honesty. You were amazing. She smiled happily. No wonder your wife stayed with you so long, she said. Who do I have to thank for your attention to foreplay? Your wife? She was a lucky woman. Not to suggest anything bad about Kathryn, but this was nothing like making love to her, I confessed, still overcome with feeling. Besides, I dont think she stayed with me for the sex. I told you she was a lucky woman, she said. I just didnt know how lucky. She gave me a look that caused a shiver to run up my back, and other things to start happening elsewhere much to my surprise. We had intercourse again, this time even slower and more intense -- before I had to beg exhaustion, and Im proud to say that I brought her to climax several more times before, during, and after those my own climax. She lay across my chest in a close embrace, and I felt so close to her. I held on to her tightly, never wanting to let go but still wondering what I was doing there, why I was so lucky to be with her.
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She broke my train of thought. So was waiting all those years to make love to another woman worth the wait? I paused before answering, trying to frame an appropriate answer. She noticed my hesitation and patted me on the chest. Im sorry, she said. That was unfair. No, its OK, I told her slowly. I have to get used to stuff like that. She pushed herself up on my chest so she could look me in the face. No, you should never answer a question like that. Otherwise Ill have to worry what youll say about me with your next lover. My next lover? My God, Im barely getting started with you and youre plotting ahead to my next lover? I did my best to sound indignant, before breaking into laughter. Besides, I think youll fare OK in any comparison. She smiled and lay back down on my chest. I started to stroke her hair, feeling the comforting sensation of her breathing and the rich softness of her hair. I could have never imagined being in this situation, and it felt strange. I thought about our lovemaking, how comfortable she was with her body and the acts. And I thought about my being here, where I did not belong. Callie, I asked quietly. Why me? She didnt move or react at first, then rolled over on her back, her hands folded over her chest. Why do you ask? I mean, we dont really know each other that well. Do you, umm, do this kind of thing often? Roger, its the third date, so its OK, she said in a teasing voice. At least, I think its the third date. Depends on what you count as the first date
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Im not kidding. I was married my whole life. People didnt jump in to bed so quickly when I was young. She turned her head to smile at me. Well, they probably did, but maybe you didnt know about it. Looks like you missed out on the sexual revolution, old-timer. Callie, this is all new to me. Cut me a break, OK? Do you do this often? She looked at the ceiling with an indescribable expression, and sighed. More than you probably think I should have, less than Id have liked. So wheres that leave us? I didnt really know, but I realized it wasnt the sex per se that was bothering me. But why me? I asked, my voice almost breaking. You could get lots of men to make love with you. She sighed. Youd be surprised at how easily men get turned off by something like being crippled. Silly, huh? They think I look good, then they find out about the legs and its good-bye, Callie! Oh, some of them try to pretend it doesnt matter, but I can tell a sympathy fuck when I get one. Then theres the weird ones. The weird ones? She smiled a dark smile. Yeah, the ones that think of this as a turn-on. I made that mistake once or twice and so now Im really careful to watch out for it. I wasnt sure I really wanted to hear about her love life in such detail, but I was intrigued nonetheless. So why me? I prodded carefully. She rolled over on her side to face me. Because with you it didnt matter. Because that makes you rare. Because that makes you special.
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We fell asleep with a smile well, I fell asleep with a smile on my face; I dont know what she was doing and didnt wake until the morning. I woke with a headache, of course, but she made me forget all about it when she initiated making love again, starting the day off with a delightful bang. Afterwards she lay on my chest, draping me with her warm weight. The temporary reprieve from my headache, and I rubbed my forehead unconsciously. Whats wrong? she asked. Just a headache. She propped herself up so she could look at me better. She seemed concerned. You get these a lot? Ive noticed you rubbing your head before. This wasnt a conversation I really wanted to have at the moment, or ever. They come and go. Sinus headaches? I dont know. I just started getting them recently. After your wife left? I hesitated, and she caught it. She nodded knowingly. Its probably just stress, but you should see a doctor about them if they keep up. Ive heard that before. Well, dont be such a guy do it. She was smiling but she meant it. I promised to think about it, although I didnt really want to see a doctor about it and doubted I would.
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I think she knew that, because she gave me an exasperated little smile and shook her head. After a while she hinted that she had some work to do, so I got cleaned up and she sort of politely ushered me out with a promise to call.
I have to admit that I spent the rest of the day in a daze. I took a long walk, and sat around my apartment thinking about my life. I didnt know how to feel about our time together. What I had told her last night was true: I didnt think Kathryn was ever coming back. I had nothing to feel guilty about. But I felt guilty anyway. I wasnt sure who I was cheating on, but as lovely as it had been I still felt like I was cheating on someone. Sex is a funny thing. Done with the right person, it is the closest intimacy two people can share, a wondrous act that literally joins two people together. Or it can be a purely physical act of gratification, not all that different from eating a good meal or having a few drinks. I didnt know much about Callie, and I hadnt known her long, but even so our time together was closer to the magical than to the purely physical. When I sorted through all the feelings pro and con, right and wrong, too fast and why not I decided I didnt know much more about my life and where it was going but I could conclude one thing for sure. I liked Callie and I was going to see her again. As soon and as often as I could.
Chapter 24 The next few days all I could think about was Callie and wanting to be with her. It was like an itch I had to scratch. I would have spent every second with her, but she was viewing things more practically. I called her the very next afternoon, and much to my
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disappointment -- she declined my offer to come over that night to visit with an affectionate laugh. Instead, she invited me to come with her to a club Tuesday night. It was all I could do to bite my tongue instead of pleading for something sooner. I felt as though our having slept together somehow entitled me to more of her life, but I consoled myself that I should consider myself lucky she was seeing me again at all. I picked her up outside her apartment about nine Tuesday night. She had on a halter-top that showed off her strong shoulders, plus a pair of Capri pants and some open toed heels that didnt make her any taller but looked good nonetheless. She directed me to a small club in the entertainment district. Id vaguely heard of it Bridget had mentioned it on occasion but had never been. I was concerned wed not find seats, as it was open seating and the club looked packed, as best I could make out in the semi-dark and haze of smoke. I shouldnt have worried; as soon as we gave up our tickets a young guy who knew Callie emerged. Callie! he shouted over the din. He barely gave me a glance. I thought youd never make it. Come on your friends are up front. That was a surprise. I assumed wed be alone, but evidently we were joining other friends of hers. Our guide took us the long way around, dipping backstage to avoid the mass of humanity, and emerged in front of the stage. He kissed Callies cheek and told her to have a good time. Five of Callies friends three girls and two guys -- had secured a small couch and a couple of chairs in a prime listening spot up front, saving us a couple of spaces. They eyed me curiously as Callie introduced us. I didnt catch most of their names, but mostly I was just relieved that her sister wasnt one of them. I realized Id seen a couple of her friends from my time following her, and, once again, I felt ashamed about my bad behavior. I was just thankful they hadnt seen me at least, I hoped they hadnt. The crowd seemed a wide mixture of people. Most were young, in their twenties or early thirties, but I saw a few people who were my age or older. I was hard pressed to see what the crowd had in common. It wasnt like how I imagined it would be to go to a heavy
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metal or hip-hop concert, where Id have guessed that the crowd all looked and dressed alike. At least I wasnt quite the obvious outlier, at least not with the crowd in general. Callies friends, on the other hand, all seemed to be in their early thirties, dressed stylishly casual and quite at home in this venue. They looked like they belonged, a bunch of attractive young people talking to each other and sharing the moment in the way that only the young really do. Its as though they dont really think of the future, or cant really picture a future that looks different from the present. Its both a blessing and a curse, I supposed. Then again, not that long ago I used to imagine only a future that looked like my present too. Who is playing again? I asked for the third time of the evening. Jane Siberry, Callie shouted back into my ear above the noise of the crowd. Youll like her I promise. She turned to talk to one of her other friends, leaving me to study the others. There were two men and three women, all of whom seemed to know each other. They talked in pairs, leaving me the odd man out. So how do you know Callie? the young woman to my left yelled in my ear. I turned to her in surprise. What? I shouted back. She was tall, with short, spiked hair that featured a variety of highlights, mostly blonde. She wore a shirt that tied at her neck and left most of her back bare, revealing a tattoo of a flower on one shoulder. Her short skirt showed off her long legs. She was pretty in a conventional way, and she was not someone Id have expected to be talking to as little as even a couple of days ago. Do you work with Callie? she said, her face serious. Umm, no, I told her, trying to think of a safe way to explain how I knew Callie. We met at the gym. I felt strange having to lean so close to her ear to make myself heard. I was close enough that I could smell her perfume.
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She nodded. Monica Atkins, she introduced herself, holding out a hand. I reached out and shook it. Roger Sinclair, I told her. Nice to meet you. She smiled and I suddenly liked her a little better. Do you like Jane? Monica asked. Who? I responded, trying to remember which of Callies friends Jane was. Monica wrinkled her brow, and pointed to the stage. Jane Siberry, she yelled into my ear. Do you like her? Id never heard of her before tonight, I confessed. Is she new? Monica laughed. No, shes been around for awhile. Shes in her thirties or forties, I guess, but shes really good, she said, as if she needed to explain that someone that age could be talented. She seemed to think for a moment, and added something that she must have thought would clarify things. Shes a Canadian. Well, forty in Canadian is like, what, twenty four here? I suppose I was expecting her to laugh at my quick wit, but she just looked at me oddly. I felt the need to justify myself. Its a joke. Oh. She seemed disappointed. You know, like in the currency exchange. A Canadian dollar is only worth sixty cents in U.S. money, so I was making a joke that age worked the same way. I suppose if you have to explain a joke its probably not worth it, that the humor has failed. It certainly had here. She smiled politely, turned away and started a conversation with the guy on her left, leaving me momentarily stranded. At that moment I felt so out
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of place. I could pretend that, if I were an objective observer looking at the crowd, I wouldnt stick out. I didnt see myself as much older looking than Id looked when I was twenty years younger. But I knew that there was no such objective observer. I knew that the people here who bothered to check us out drawn, perhaps, by Callies good looks or the appeal of her friends would see me as the interloper, an old man amidst youth. Id gotten used to being a grown-up, to acting like one, and Id assumed Id actually matured. Now I realized it was just an act. I still felt like I did when I was young, and it was the weight of the history I could remember that told me different. That and the gradual slowing down and thickening of the body, with the little aches I didnt used to have. What Id thought was maturity was actually just a role. I had been a husband, a father, an executive, and people expected some maturity from those roles, so Id pretended along with them that I had it. Sitting here in the noisy club, without any of those roles to fall back on, I felt as insecure and awkward as I might have in college. Only then I probably would have been surrounded by my own friends, as hopeful or as callow as this crowd was tonight. Tonight I was at the mercy of Callie and her friends. I could remember those years, and the years in between, and the weight of those memories good, bad, banal, or otherwise aged me as surely as gravity or genetics did. Hell, Id been working almost as long as some of the people around me had been alive. Major moments in my life that were indelibly engrained in my memory -- like Kennedys assassination or the moon landing were at best just history to them and at worse things they vaguely might have heard of but couldnt really picture. I didnt belong here, with Callie and her friends. I belonged at home, with Kathryn sitting next to me. Except that was not only no longer an option, it was also something that I couldnt really picture anymore either. I was stuck between an old me that no longer existed and a new me that was too old for the new me. Callie seemed to catch my little moment, and surreptitiously reached out to take my hand. She gave it a little squeeze, and winked at me out of the corner of her eye. The emcee came on stage before our conversation went any further. Callie ended her conversation and caught my eye conspiratorially. Youll like her, she promised.
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Jane Siberry was, indeed, wonderful. She was down to earth and funny, with no apparent ego. And her songs! Her humorous ones were whimsical, and her serious ones were heartbreaking. It seemed appropriate that several of her songs dealt with angels, because she had the voice of an angel. I lost myself in her performance, applauding madly at the end of each and even participating in the portions where she wanted the crowd to help out. In between the second and third song I leaned in towards Callie. Shes great, I enthused. She just smiled. After the concert Callie and her friends stood outside, debating going for drinks or getting some coffee, but much to my relief the eventual consensus was to call it a night. A couple of her friends gave Callie a meaningful glance as they said their goodbyes, and she smirked right back. She smiled brashly at me as we went our own way, and we went to her apartment where she gave that brash look its meaning.
You should be with one of those guys, I told her as we were lying in each other arms afterwards. Some young stud, not an old guy like me. Not this again, Callie said with a theatrical moan for emphasis. What, you dont want to be here? Of course I do, I assured her. And I did. I was overjoyed to be with her. But I felt that I didnt deserve to be here. She was too good a person, too brave, and too beautiful. Knowing I should just shut up and enjoy her, I continued to speak anyway. But I see those good looking guys, and, well, Ive never been someone women lust after. They dont stare at me walking down the street, and I bet even women who know me dont sit around and wonder what it would be like to be with me.
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You might be surprised. Her tone was teasing but kind. I would be, I told her with raised eyebrows. Brooke told me the women in your office all liked you, and more than a few of them had little crushes on you. Youre kidding. Im not, she assured me. I still didnt believe her. I hadnt seen any evidence of any of that. Im just thisguy. Just an average guy. Not the kind of guy who gets the girl, you know? She gave me a look of what I hoped was mock exasperation. You dont have a clue, do you? About what? About yourself and who you are. I felt a great emptiness inside. Oh, I know what I am all right, I said, trying to smile. I suspect it came out more rueful than anything else. Im a loser. Callie arched an eyebrow. Uh-huh, she said skeptically. I thought she was struggling to suppress a smile. No, really, I pressed on, feeling sorry for myself. I rolled on my back so I didnt have to look at her. I told you before Ive got a character flaw. I lose things, or let them go. Ive lost my wife, my home, my job, my reputation, my friends.
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She rolled onto to her side, propping her head up on her arm. So, do you think Im a loser? I mean, Im choosing to sleep with you. Wouldnt that make me a loser too? I wasnt going to let her suck me into this. I felt crummy about myself, but I had no doubts about her. No, I think maybe that means you made a mistake about me, or youre being kind. Uh-huh, she said again. Now she looked entirely serious. What about your daughter? Did she make a mistake about who you are? No, I admitted. The thought of my daughter made me pause and brought a brief smile to my face, a smile that faded as I remembered the dark truth of the situation. I stared at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. Im afraid if she really knew how I lost my job shed think I was a loser too. Maybe she already does because of whatever Kathryn told her about why she left me. I dont know. I see. She paused for a second, her deep eyes searching mine. And your friend Ray? Is he a loser too? He seems to think a lot of you. I had to chuckle at that. She narrowed her eyes. Whats so funny? Its funny because I think a lot of people would think he is a loser an ex-con with no college degree working in a coffee shop. But you know better. I do know better. Rays no loser. I could see her looking at me with great tenderness. And neither are you, she said fiercely. She rolled closer to me and took my hand. What makes you special doesnt
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have anything to do with what jobs you have or dont have, or whether youre married or not. Oh? She shook her head. It has to do with what is in here, she told me, guiding our hands to my chest, placing them over my heart. The other stuff it just happens to you. It was a good thing the room was mostly dark, because I think I was blushing. It certainly happened to me, I said wryly. She smiled at me so sweetly that it took my breath away. You are a gentle and kind man, she began. You mean boring, I interrupted, knowing these were polite words meaning unattractive. I was trying to make a joke. At least, I hope I was. Callie was undeterred. No, I mean a decent guy, which is really rare. Im not so decent, I protested, thinking of the strange string of events that landed me, at least indirectly, in this bed. She shook her head in amazement. It makes me kind of sad that you dont see yourself for who you are. And who am I again? You are the kind of man that would make a lot of women look back at their lives and wish theyd made different choices.
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It was a nice thing to say, but, at the same time, it was the wrong thing to say. I slumped down as though my muscles had given up the ghost. My head really started to hurt, and I put both hands on it. I can think of one woman who did make this choice and seems to have regretted it. With a half-smile that I could barely see in the dim light, she sighed and shook her head. She reached over to stroke my head. Her touch seemed cool and soothing. I think people can choose to see things as either half-full or half-empty. What do you mean? Her face grew serious. Well, half-empty in my case would be me feeling bad because Ill never walk or even feel my legs again. She paused to let that sink in, in case our delightful bedroom activities had made me forget. In your case, it would be you thinking that your wife leaving just means that youd lost years of your life that you cant ever get back. And the half full? I asked quietly. She paused in her touch, and moved closer towards me. The half full, she said, her mouth next to my ear, is that at this moment you are in bed with a beautiful, naked woman who is eager to make love with you again. When she put it that way, things didnt look so bad indeed.
On Thursday we worked out together, after her PT session, and went back to her apartment for an early afternoon slice of heaven. Id have stayed all day and tried to keep her satisfied, but she regretfully had to kick me out, reminding me that she had to earn a living. I decided to go over to Brewed Heaven to check in on Ray.
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Hey, Ray, I said as I came in. It was moderately busy, with some post-lunch crowd still lingering. I thought I recognized one of Callies friends from the concert, and, sure enough, she gave me a small nod of acknowledgement. It made me feel a little younger, but that may have been light-headedness from the workout. Roger, he greeted me with no change of expression. Nice to see you. You want something to drink? I just came in to see how you were doing. He looked over at his coworker, a pretty woman. Kelly, he said to her. Could you cover me for a few minutes? Im going to take a break. Sure, Ray, she said, flashing him a big smile. Take your time just come back. He took off his apron and came around the counter. Lets take a walk, he told me. I was busy noticing how Kelly was watching him while trying to look like she wasnt. Amused, I followed Ray outside. Where to? Ray led me over to the corner park and sat on a bench. There were tables with chess boards embedded on them, but no chess pieces or chess players. You play? I asked, nodding towards the tables. He looked around the park, but not at the tables. Not often. We sat there for a few seconds. There were a few people on the sidewalks, and a steady flow of cars on the street. A couple of homeless people were camped out in the shade at the other edge of the park. So I was wondering how things with Franklin were going. Did they ever set up that interview?
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He looked away, and for once Id swear his face seemed troubled. Yeah. It was yesterday. I was surprised it had happened so quickly, but tried not to let it show. Howd it go? I asked as casually as I could. He shrugged indifferently. Come on, give me some details. Whod you talk to? He exhaled noisily and looked at his lap. A guy named Graham Carter. Hes the president. I was impressed. Gary had more clout than Id realized. Thats cool. Whatd you guys talk about? I dont know, he responded, then looked up. I mean, lots of things. He was an interesting guy. We talked about what Ive been reading, what Im doing now. He paused for a couple seconds, watching the street, but maybe seeing something else. He seemed like a good guy. How long did you guys talk? He thought back. Couple hours. Then he took me to the Provost and I talked to him a while too. I whistled. You know, thats a lot of time for guys like that. They must be interested in you. His eyes narrowed and he stared at me with a deadpan expression. I dont know about that. Im thinking maybe they have a quota of underprivileged people they have to interview and I was the quota. I studied him carefully. Do you really think that was it?
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He pursed his lips. I dont know what to think. He looked at the street, as a particularly noisy bus went by. Did they say when theyd get back to you? Nothing definite. Soon, they said. Thats like a guy saying to a girl hes just met that hell call her. We sat in silence for a few seconds, me readjusting to this new world and him evidently still trying to decide how he felt about it. So what do you think? I asked at last. He sighed a short laugh. I dont know. Part of me is hoping theyll say yes and part of me hates that I care. I looked at him in amazement. Are you nuts? You wanted to go to college, and heres your chance. Why wouldnt you care? He looked away, and his face lost something. He was with me but he wasnt with me. Id heard of the thousand yard stare but Id never seen it until now. Did I ever tell you how I got through prison? he asked, his voice so low I had to strain to hear it. It doesnt matter, I insisted, not sure I wanted to hear. You made it. He continued anyway. Prison is all about power, like anywhere else. Only in there the power is all about getting out. Who can get you out, and in the shorter term -- what can make your time there less bad. People think about what they have, what they want, what you have that they want. I dont really understand
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No, of course you dont, he said, glancing over at me with a small, forgiving smile. You couldnt. Anyway, when I went in I didnt know much about prison, but I decided if I was going to survive I had to stop caring. So I stopped counting the days. I lived as though that place was all that there was, that every day was just like every other day. Like I was never going to get out. He stopped and I didnt know if he was thinking or waiting for me to say something. I felt as though I should say something, but I couldnt for the life of me figure out what it might be, so like a coward I stayed silent. It seemed incongruous to be sitting in this park with trees and grass and blue skies complete with fluffy white clouds above us. Ray was somewhere else, and he was taking me there. It was dark and grim in his world. After a time he started talking again, as much to himself as to me. I stayed away from making friends, or from making enemies. I minded my own business and tried to avoid getting people interested in mine. I didnt try to pretend I was the toughest guy in the yard, but I let people know I was tough enough that it wasnt worth their time to mess with me. I even refused to see visitors or to take packages; those would just be things someone could threaten to take from me or use against me. It must have been hard, I offered, thinking about those long days hed faced alone, under pressures I couldnt begin to imagine. What about your family? Didnt they come to see you? He frowned, just slightly, but didnt look at me. Every Sunday they told me my mother was there to see me, and every Sunday I told them to leave me alone. I got letters from her almost every day too, and every day I would just throw them away. I think thats what really impressed the other cons, that I could cut off the outside world so completely like that. Then after a couple years the letters and visits stopped, and a couple months later they told me shed died. He stopped and looked over at me, just briefly, before turning away again. They offered to let me go to the funeral, but I didnt even let them give me that. Then there was nothing for a long time. I read when I could, got to use the
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computer. They offered to let me work in the prison library, where Id have more access to books and the computer, but I told them no. I didnt want any special favors. His voice sounded faintly bitter at that last part, but otherwise his expression and his voice were absolutely calm. He stared off into that distant space for a while, then resumed on some cue that I was unaware of. Then, one day, a day that started out just like any other day, they told me I could go. So I got out, and here I am. I was still struggling to grasp his story. I could never truly understand it, I knew at once, but what I particularly could not understand was why he had chosen this moment to tell it to me. I felt stupid, as though I was failing him somehow, and so it was with some trepidation that I had to ask. What does this have to do with your interview at Franklin? He looked up at me in surprise, like it should have been clear. I shrugged to show that I was sorry that I didnt understand, and he shook his head sadly. Im not used to having things to look forward to. Things to look forward to are things that might not happen. Its better not to hope. And yet you continued to play the lottery, as you called it, I pointed out. Then it hit me, blinding me with the obviousness of it. Your mom is the one who wanted you to go to college. It wasnt a question. He nodded slowly. Yeah. She was dead set on it. She kept after me about doing my studying, about not falling in with the wrong crowd. She wanted more than anything to see me graduate from college. Once I got out of prison, I figured, what the hell, I might as well try to get in, even though it will never happen. Its the least I could do for breaking her heart. Once again, I was at a loss for what to say. It was just sounfair didnt even begin to cover the tragedy of it. Only one thing was wrong. If she tried so hard at keeping you
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out of trouble, I asked delicately, trying to watch his face for a reaction I didnt want to see, how did you end up in prison after all? His mouth turned up in something that resembled a smile, in about the same way that a shark resembles a goldfish. Funny, President Carter asked me the same thing, he said, with a sad smile. Hey Ill bet he gets shit about his name, eh? You remember the real President Carter? Jimmy Carter? I remember. I wasnt even born, he said sadly, and shook his head. Anyway, I had this friend. Billy Carson, from the neighborhood. He was always a mischievous little brat, getting into trouble and trying to drag you into trouble too. Rays face took on a fonder expression, thinking of some times long ago. Mom used to tell me to stay away from him, especially as we got older and his pranks started to get more serious. We kind of drifted apart anyway, as I got more into school and sports and that whole bit, and he got into, well, whatever he got into. But we never quite lost touch. Then one day, about mid-way through my senior year it was, he comes by and says he wants to take a ride. I didnt think anything of it; we did that every once in a while. He tells me he wants to stop at the convenience store. So Im sitting out there when he comes running out, a bag in one hand and a gun in the other. He gets in the car and I yell at him, ask him what the hell hes doing. Next thing I know were surrounded by police and Im arrested for armed robbery. But you didnt do anything, I exclaimed, appalled by the injustice of it. He shook his head. Doesnt matter. I was with him. They called me an accessory. The DA was looking to make a point, so I get five years, hard time.
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It seemed too unfair. I gulped. I knew you werent really a criminal. You got railroaded. He looked over at me and at that moment he seemed much older than I was. Prison is full of guys who didnt do it, or so they say. Or guys like me, just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It doesnt really matter, you understand? What matters is that youve been convicted. Then you are a criminal. But So Im a criminal. You can see why I think God doesnt exist. He had a point. And your friend? I asked softly. Now Ray smiled for real, more amused than anything else. Billy? See, I was eighteen. I got prosecuted as an adult. Billy was seventeen. He spent a year in juvie, then got out. He went on to junior college. I hear hes got a job, a girlfriend. Can you imagine? Hes out now, and his juvenile record is sealed. Kind of ironic, isnt it? Thats putting it mildly. Dont you ever feel like finding him and punching him out? One of the homeless men had spotted us and was ambling over towards us, his hand already out. He was of an indistinguishable age and color; he was so uniformly covered by grime that it was hard to imagine hed ever been clean. His layers of clothes seemed to serve no purpose other than to carry more dirt. We watched him approach, and I dug in my pocket for some cash. Ray just watched. Got a quarter for some food? the man pleaded, with no real hope in his voice. I thought hed been drinking, but I gave him a dollar anyway. His eyes watered up with pleasure. He looked at Ray with new hope, and recognition dawned in his eyes. Hey, youre the guy from the coffee place. Hey, Elmo, Ray said softly. How are you doing?
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All right, man. Hey, you got any of those muffins? Not right now. You and Darnell come by tomorrow. OK, man. He seemed unusually pleased about this, and stumbled off with his uneven gait. There but for the grace of God I said, watching him amble away. I dont think so. Im without a job or prospects, I argued. It wouldnt take much. Ray shook his head sadly, still watching Elmo walk away. Guys like you dont end up homeless. Youll get a job. Guys like you dont become a drunk or get on drugs, dont get arrested. Youll end up OK. I looked at Ray thoughtfully, trying to take in what he said and knowing that the arrested part was his story. You know hes just going to buy some cheap wine with your money, dont you? Ray told me at last, still watching Elmo. You guys seem to know each other. Elmo was telling his buddy about his windfall, seeming very animated about it. Ray shook his head tolerantly. He took a deep breath and continued. They come by the store every couple days. I give them a cup of coffee and a muffin. Big deal. Youre a soft touch, I teased him.
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He smiled briefly, then his face drained again. If I punched Billy out, they could revoke my parole. If I got arrested for jaywalking, they could send me back. So, no, man, I dont punch him out. I get up, I go to work, and I go home, every day. I stay out of other peoples business, and I stay out of trouble. Thats it. Thats all its going to be. Thats how I get by. Uh-huh, I said. I waited for a couple of seconds. And Franklin? He took a deep breath, and leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees. If I look forward to something happening, something changing, then I have something to lose. I dont have much more I can afford to lose. I almost wish Id never had the damn interview. Almost? His expression softened just a little. Almost. I smiled at the brave hope of it, and wondered how I was lucky enough to know a man like Ray. He stood up. Come on, I better get back before they fire me. I got up and we headed back. As we got closer I could see Kelly watching for him expectantly from inside Brewed Heaven. I think that girl Kelly likes you. I was kind of teasing, but also serious. He looked at me with neither surprise nor pleasure. So? So maybe you should ask her out. Shes cute. He stopped and faced me. I dont really need a girlfriend.
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What are you, a monk? He looked inside briefly, then down at the ground before looking back at me. No. She lives in a different world, you know? Maybe you should let her make up her own mind. He looked around, his eyes coming to rest on Callies building. He nodded towards it. So let me guess. You in the neighborhood to see that girl, Callie? I nodded, suddenly embarrassed yet pleased. Its a guy thing. He smiled knowingly. Shes cute, he said, imitating my earlier tone of voice. We both laughed, then his face got serious. She seems pretty cool, man. I watched her plenty of times in here. Ever think of asking her out? I asked, a touch of jealousy creeping over me. He shook his head, and reached for the door. No. I figure, I dont have anything to give her. I was confused. I remembered what Id told Ray about being married, and for a terrible second I thought he was making fun of me. He was probably a good enough poker player that if he wanted to make fun of me without my knowing I wouldnt be able to tell. But when I looked at him he seemed, as always, genuinely thoughtful, and I had a faint flush of pride: hed taken something Id said to heart. Still, I didnt understand why he wouldnt want to ask Callie out. I figured any guy with half a brain and a tiny chance would ask Callie out, wheelchair or not. Then again, Im biased. You mean, because of your record and all? He smiled sadly at me. No. Because that girl has it. It?
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He seemed frustrated at his inability to communicate with me. Shes cool. Shes got charisma. Shes full of life. Legs or no legs. I knew what he meant, but I still didnt understand. That seems like a good thing, not a bad thing. He cocked his head. Maybe. But, take that other girl, the girl you were following. Brooke. Shes Callies sister. Huh. He thought about that. Yeah, OK, I can see that. I was nonplused, wondering what clues he saw that I was still not able to connect. Ray continued. That girl her I could see her needing someone. She needs someone to help her be happy. But your girl Yes? I pressed. He shook his head. Shes already happy. So what would she need with a bum like me? Maybe to fall in love? He snorted. Love is overrated. I stared at him suspiciously. What are you, a hard-ass now? He shrugged. I told you. I keep to myself. Its safer that way. Then why are you hanging out with me?
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He shook his head. Dont get me wrong, Roger. Youre a nice guy. I enjoy talking to you. But that doesnt mean were friends. That doesnt mean when push comes to shove Id be there for you. I still stared at him, not liking what I was hearing. If he was playing with me I couldnt tell from his deadpan expression. This wasnt the guy I had gotten to know. I dont buy it, I told him at last. You talk a hard line, but look at you giving homeless guys muffins, pulling me out of a parked car when you thought I was stalking Callie. I told you youre a soft touch. Ray looked away for a moment, checking out the interior of Brewed Heaven. His friend Kelly gave him a little wave and a smile, both of which he ignored. You got it wrong, Roger, he said, his voice flat. I give those guys muffins because otherwise they hang around all day and bother the customers. I yanked you out of that car because having stalkers bother the customers is bad for business. So dont be thinking Im some Good Samaritan. With that he opened the door and went inside, not looking back. I stood there for a minute or two, trying to process all hed said. He was right, of course, that I couldnt really understand what hed gone through in prison or how it might have hardened him beyond what I could imagine. And he could be telling me the truth that the two examples of his charitable nature Id cited had really been purely practical ones instead. On the other hand, I concluded with a satisfied smile, that didnt explain why he took me to breakfast that first night. Hed have a hard time telling me why that actually had been better for Brewed Heavens customers somehow. I made it to my car before I thought about the other thing he had been trying to explain to me. Like him, I couldnt come up with a good explanation for what I could offer a woman like Callie.
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Chapter 25 Bridget called me later in the afternoon. I was in my apartment playing around on the Internet. Id made a few follow-up networking calls, none of which was promising, so now was trying my luck online. Hey, daddy, she said in a cheerful voice. What are you doing? Actually, Im searching Monster for some job leads. Cool. Anything look promising? To be honest, nothing seemed even close to a fit. They were too low paying, in the wrong city, or demanded the wrong skill set. But I wasnt going to confess that to my daughter. Oh, I dont know. Maybe a couple. Well, keep at it. Have you had any interviews? Not really, I admitted. I mean, Ive been networking, having meetings and such. It just takes a little time to get the right opportunity. Yeah, I know several friends who are between jobs, she told me encouragingly. Something will turn up. She sounded very optimistic, as she usually did. Of course, she didnt need to point out that the people she knew were twenty years younger, with newer skills and more flexibility about the type and location of their job. Im sure it will, I agreed. I wonder how your mothers job search is going.
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I hadnt meant it as a question, but as soon as I said it I could sense that she was struggling to decide if she could give me that information. Moms got a job, she said at last, sounding somewhat reluctant. She does? I questioned, stunned at her admission. Of course, shes had longer to look than you, Bridget hurried to tell me, before she realized that she was just making it worse. Of course. I tried to sound blas about it, but I was shaken. It was just further evidence that Kathryn had been wanting out for a long time, making meticulous plans for her escape. I wanted to press her more, but instead I changed the subject and asked how things were with her. She happily chattered on about a big presentation her team had been making to a potential client, and meandered on about a concert shed been to with some friends, a group Id never heard of. And what fun things have you been doing? she asked at last. I went to a concert this week, I told her sheepishly, not really thinking through the wisdom of this path of conversation. Oh, really? What, like the Pops? That would have been a more expected concert for me, from her point of view or from my point of view just a few weeks ago. I felt obscurely proud that I could surprise her with my recent alternative music concert going. No, nothing like that. I saw this great woman singer. Who was that? Jane Siberry.
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There was another moment of silence before she responded. Jane Siberry? You saw Jane Siberry in concert? Seriously? Seriously. She considered this. I didnt even think you knew who she was. I didnt, before the concert, I confessed. She was very good. I know that, but Im still surprised you went. How did you end up going to see her? This was where it was going to get tricky. I leaned back from my computer to concentrate better. Umm, I went with a friend of mine. Ive been doing all sorts of things. Ive been to a football game and a baseball game. Im not just sitting around moping. So I see, she said thoughtfully. Did you go to the football game with the Prices? That would have been a logical guess. In the past Steve and I had gone to lots of things. But Steve was in a past life. I hadnt seen or heard from him since Id left the house. Ahh, no. Oh? Whod you go with? The only good thing about this line of questioning was that it was staying away from Callie, although I wasnt sure it wouldnt end up back there. Bridget was bright and persistent when she wanted to know something. I stood up and began to pace around the guest bedroom that I had set up as a study. This guy I know. Whos that?
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His name is Ray. Hes about your age. Uh-huh. How do you know him? He works at Brewed Heaven you know, the coffee place. There was another moment of silence as she took that in. Of course I know it. I used to hang out there summers in college, or when I come home for the holidays. What are you doing going there? I heard it was a nice place, I said lamely, wishing Id never brought the whole thing up. I walked into the living room and sat down heavily on the couch. I dont know which is more surprising you going to see Jane Siberry or you hanging out at Brewed Heaven. Did you go to see her with this guy Ray? No. Whod you go with? For a moment I considered not answering, but I couldnt figure out a good way to do so without seeming like I was trying to hide something. I wasnt, not exactly, but I hadnt really developed a good explanation for my new friends. This friend of mine. Uh-huh, she said, sounding slightly ominous. She could tell by my tone what gender friend meant, but she played it straight. Whats your friends name? Callie. Uh-huh, she repeated. After a pause, she asked, you met her at Brewed Heaven too?
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I had an odd sense of dj vu. I was on the wrong end of the kind of questions I might have once asked her, and trying to come up with the kind of safe answers she might once have tried to convince me of. In this case, there was the truth, and there were things that were true, and sometimes the true will suffice instead of the truth. I got up and walked over to the sliding doors, looking out at the sunny blue skies. No, I met her at the gym. I didnt think explaining that Id met her at the gym because Id been following her to get to someone else was really required, or wise. The gym? she asked, her voice rising. She paused to regain control. Who am I talking to, anyway? Youre going to the gym, youre hanging out at Brewed Heaven, you go to concerts Her voice trailed off dramatically. Yeah, Im just a regular man-about-town. She let that one slide. So this woman Callie. Yes, thats it, Callie. This Callie whats she like? That was another question that required a careful answer. Not that I was trying to hide something, but because she defied easy description. Oh, shes in her thirties. Pretty. Shes a graphic designer. Uh-huh. Are she and this guy Ray involved? It was a logical conclusion on her part, and one that allowed her a safe, satisfactory answer to my new lifestyle. I was tempted to just agree, but I hadnt ever lied to Bridget in the past and I didnt want to start now. No.
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No? I made up my mind, knowing it was neither smart nor prudent. Fact of the matter is that Im, well, kind of seeing her.
Chapter 26 I finally gave in and went to see my doctor, since my headaches were not getting any better and I finally had to admit something might be amiss. I still didnt really think anything serious was wrong, but by this point my strategy of ignoring them further and hoping they would go away seemed to be failing. Id been going to Dr. Vasco for twenty years, although not as faithfully as he would have liked. I managed to get the receptionist to squeeze me in a late afternoon appointment, and by the time Dr. Vasco got to me Id been waiting forty-five minutes. We exchanged greetings, and I explained what Id been feeling. He listened carefully, as he always does, then went about his business of checking me out as he carefully asked me a few questions. Hmm. You dont have a history of allergies or sinus infections. Been under a lot of stress lately? I laughed, and had to explain what was funny about that remark. He rolled back on his wheeled stool and listened even more carefully. Id say that all qualifies as a lot of stress, he concluded after Id finished. He thought for a moment, then started flipping through my chart. It could be nothing. You could have an infection or developed an allergic reaction to something, but that wouldnt be my first guess. On the other hand, with the kind of stress youve been under, well, headaches wouldnt be so unusual. Id known him for a long time. Id never really had a serious health concern, but I knew when to read between the lines. But?
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He sighed and put the chart down. He looked me straight in the eye. I think we should run some tests. Lets start with a CT scan, maybe get an MRI if the CT doesnt help. Just to be safe. Id come to him expecting him to confirm that my headaches were just an annoyance, that theyd go away just as mysteriously as theyd come. At worst Id expected him to give me some extra-strength Tylenol or something. I hadnt expected this. Alan He put a cautioning hand up. Roger, lets not be worried yet. Its probably nothing. I just want to be sure.
Friday night Callie and I cooked Callie doing most of it and showing me why she had such a well planned kitchen and stayed in her apartment. I not only slept over; I spent the following day with her. We basically spent the day in bed, and it was wonderful. Callies bed was made for lounging. It was on a low platform that made it easy for her to transfer to and from her wheelchair, and was connected to the built-out headboard. The headboard had room for books and a few plants, as well as a glass of water or a plate of fruit. She had a large flat-screen TV on the opposite wall, with a surround-sound speaker system. Her system held over a hundred CDs, she informed me, and she usually had it playing. Most of them where artists Id never heard of, but she had an uncanny knack for setting the right mood romantic, lively, soothing, or whatever struck her fancy or thought would fit mine. We had sex, of course. Multiple times, with varying degrees of urgency and technique, as much as I dared call my limited skills any kind of technique. Most of the skills were hers, and she constantly amazed me by her prowess and her enthusiasm, to say nothing of her lovely body. It was like being drunk or on drugs, although I could only infer the effect of the latter from my limited experience with the former. I could not get enough of her, and it made me feel young in a way that I hadnt felt young in years, if ever.
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But it wasnt the sex that made the day so special. It was the casual intimacy of the time together, lounging naked together in bed. We were arrogantly lazy, not needing or wanting anything from the outside world. I cooked us an omelet around noon, to help replenish our strength and also so we could have the luxury of eating breakfast in bed. I liked to lay intertwined with her, caressing her body with my hands as though incredulous of my good fortune to be with such a body, with such a woman. And I was. Kathryn was a lovely woman, but even in her youngest days she hadnt had Callies body, and she certainly didnt know how to use it in the ways Callie did. Even with only half a functioning body, with only half of her that could feel and move, Callie was an inferno of feeling and sensuality. Unlike our previous times together, our available time together stretched ahead of us with no deadline, and I gratefully took advantage of that luxury. I couldnt get enough of her, couldnt get close enough to her, couldnt stay long enough connected to her. I was stroking the long line of her from her hip down to her knee. It amazed me that something so lovely would just run out of sensation, and I was determined to understand exactly where that sinister line was, where her body went from fully alive to stubbornly passive. Her legs were alive down there. Thanks to her therapy and vigorous exercise program, blood still moved, bones supported, and the muscles and tendons waited for calls that never came. Her legs were lonely soldiers, stuck in distant outposts to which the lines of communication had been cut off. I wondered if her legs knew it, in some metaphysical sense at the cellular level, that they were losers in a war that was over, a game that had been called for darkness. Perhaps they just waited, thinking it odd but not irrevocable that the calls to action never came. And perhaps it was a battle, not a war, but if so no one had told Callie. Youll have to leave eventually, Callie said with an amused look on her face.
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Why? I could stay here forever, I said contentedly. Theyd find our bodies, naked and intertwined, having run out of food and water. A lovely thought. No, its just that Brooke is coming over tonight, and I thought perhaps you might not want to run into her. That spoiled the mood, at least a little. I rolled over on my back and frowned. No, I dont suppose so. I could tell Callie was watching me closely. Do you blame her? I considered this, knowing full well what she meant, and answered carefully. No -- no, I dont. I did, for a while, but I was wrong to do that. Whatever happened wasnt her fault. It was my fault. I didnt say it, but I didnt need to. There was only one person at fault with all the things that had gone wrong to me, and it was me. Id gone to get my CT scan a couple days prior, and Dr. Vesco had called in the morning. Somehow I wasnt entirely surprised when he admitted the CT scan hadnt quite exonerated me. He had tried to keep me from unduly worrying about it, but the simple act of going for the CT had convinced me that something was seriously wrong. A tumor, an aneurysm, maybe something Id never heard of. There are so many things that can go wrong with ones body that its a wonder everyone doesnt fall apart all the time. I never used to think about mine betraying me, and it seemed especially perverse that it was my brain that was going to be my downfall. Much to my surprise, I found that I no longer minded. By this point, Id grown almost used to the constant headaches, and it was only the really bad ones that threw me for a loop. If I was going to die, I was going to die. Id decided that, whatever was wrong, it was going to be my tragic little secret. I would keep this to myself, and have people be surprised when I suddenly died one day.
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I felt bad for Bridget for the heartbreak I would cause her if I died, but I was at peace with dying itself. Or rather, I just didnt care enough about living. Whatever was physically wrong with me was divine justice for my shortcomings. Dr. Vasco had given me the name of a neurologist he wanted to go to, and I was almost considering not going. Let the bad come. It was curiously liberating in a way. Job hunting now seemed much less important, and spending more time with Callie seemed like an even better idea than it would have even under normal circumstances. So, no, I no longer blamed Brooke or anyone else for anything. Callie looked at me, and I couldnt tell if she believed me or not, if that was the answer she was looking for or not. Finally she spoke. Its too bad you guys dont get along. We used to. Now she thinks Im a big creep. Callie reached out and put her hand on my chest. I dont know about that. She does. Her and my wife too. I really screwed up. Stop blaming yourself for everything, Callie said, patting my chest. Brooke was just surprised, thats all. Shes not used to guys saying things like that to her. I rolled over on my side to face her. She didnt have anything covering her, and she seemed totally uninhibited about her nakedness. It obviously isnt genetic. She smiled playfully at me and gave me a mock shove. Stop it. In a way, though, its my kind of my fault. That surprised me. Your fault? How do you figure? The accident.
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I stared at her for a few seconds before I made the connection, and once I had I involuntarily glanced down at her useless legs. What happened? I asked in a soft voice, afraid to know but even more afraid not to ask. She nodded slowly, not looking at me. She smiled a slow, sad smile. It was sex. My mouth dropped. Youre joking. I immediately had this image of some strange sexual position that could have caused it. I couldnt quite picture it but it was disturbing nonetheless. She laughed and grabbed my face in one hand. She used it to lead my face towards hers, and suddenly kissed me. Only sort of. She leaned back against the pillows she had propped up against the headboard and seemed to prepare herself. I suspected it was not the first time shed had to tell the tale, but I also suspected it didnt really get any easier over time. OK, lets see. It was seven years ago. I was in the car with this guy Rick Gibson. He was your boyfriend? I interrupted. She grinned at me. Yeah, I guess you could call him that. At least, he was one of my boyfriends, or I was one of his girlfriends. Something like that. I dont understand. I couldnt picture her being involved casually with a guy, especially a guy who slept around. I was wrong. Roger, honey, you have to understand that I was kind of a wild child. I liked boys, I liked sex. I mean, I used protection, I kept my eyes open, I knew what I was doing but its not like I was saving myself for marriage or anything, OK? Yeah, I understand, I mumbled sheepishly.
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I mean, do you think your daughter is waiting for the one, the special guy? The knight in shining white armor? I suppose not, I grumbled. To be honest, it was something Id thought about. It had always troubled me, and Id learned that sometimes it was better not to probe too much, not to ask Bridget questions I really didnt want to know the answer to. I was beginning to fear that my question to Callie was going to end up in that category too. So, anyway, Rick and I are driving along, and he dares me to give him a blow job. While he was driving? On the highway, going ninety miles an hour in the dark. She seemed, if anything, curiously proud of this fact. Uh-huh. This I could picture, and I wished I could wipe that picture out of my head. Now, I was a girl who never passed up a dare, so I took him up on it. So Im going at it, doing my primo job, and well, it turns out poor Rick really couldnt do two things at once. I rolled over on my back. You crashed. Bang, she said, clapping her hands together for added effect. Smashed right into a telephone pole. His airbag cushioned him pretty well, but in the position I was in I got bounced around like a rag doll. She stopped and seemed lost in recollection for a moment. I sat up and took one of her hands, but it was a moment or two before she looked up and gave me a brave smile. I was two months in the hospital, and a few months more in rehab. At first they were afraid I would be a total quad, but gradually I regained feeling in my upper body. And here we are.
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What about Rick? Ah, Rick, she sighed dramatically. It turns out that Rick was a lucky guy I mean, aside from him getting the blow job of his life and all. A few cuts, a broken arm, but otherwise fit as a fiddle. I mean, did he help you through your recovery and all? She shook her head. They told me he came once or twice while I was still unconscious, but once he heard I would never walk again, Rick decided to bail. Bastard, I cursed with some heat. Aint that the truth, she agreed. But its not like I was ever going to marry the schmuck or anything. Better he bailed then than give me some hope he was a different kind of guy, a stand-up kind of guy. I took her hand and held it dramatically against my chest. Id never have abandoned you. Aww, I know that. Youre a sweetheart, she told me with a wonderful smile that switched to a practical look. Of course, you probably never would have been asking me for a blow job while you were driving either, so it kind of all evens out. I studied her for a few seconds. She looked lovely in the soft light. Despite the disturbing topic of the conversation, I felt so comfortable being with her. So your sister associates sex with getting hurt? Callie shrugged, and her smile seemed sad. Something like that, or so my guess is. Or maybe it was her being angry at Rick. I dont know.
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You two seem very close. Its an unusual relationship, she told me, stretching and looking utterly irresistible. I was tempted to make love to her again, but now I was kind of worried Id dally too long and have Brooke find us together in bed. She loves me but shes way too protective. Thats not a bad thing. Not in itself, but shes closed herself off. That girl needs to relax and have some fun. Its sad. She doesnt have boyfriends? Callie frowned. Every once in a while, but nothing that lasts. I dont think shes a virgin, but I dont think she enjoys sex either. Plus, she still feels guilty. About what? Well, I got this big settlement after my accident. Ricks insurance gave me a big lump sum that was supposed to take care of my medical expenses the rest of my life. I mean, those physical therapy sessions and all dont pay for themselves. Why should Brooke feel guilty about that? My parents didnt have much money, so I used some of my settlement to pay for her to go to college. I stared at her. Dont you need that money? She could have gotten loans or something. You need that money.
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Callie laughed and shook her head in amusement. Relax. See, youre protective too. I thought it all out. I got a lot of money, and they sort of figured Id live for a long time when they calculated the settlement. I hope you do, I told her sincerely. Yeah, thanks, she said, although it struck me then that she didnt exactly agree with me. The thing is, people with my condition usually dont live a normal lifespan. Our lungs get clogged up, we get blood clots in our legs, the nerves further up in the body gradually shut off too lots of things can happen. So I just made a rational bet on her future. I dont have any regrets. So is there any chance of recovering? I asked Callie, feeling tentative and out of my depth. No, she said flatly, with no sense of self-pity or doubt. Well, I mean, theres always hope of some breakthrough, some way to regenerate, but I figure thats just crap they tell people so theyll donate more money to research. The researchers like to keep busy, you know, publish some papers and get some publicity. Its not that they dont care Ive met some of the nicest people in the last few years because of this but its just a career for them, you know? She smiled sadly at me. Im sorry, I didnt mean to go on. No, I want you to tell me everything. I want to know everything about you. No, you dont, she said, but smiling at me anyway. Yes, I do. She shook her head and the smile faded away. No one should ever know everything about anyone else.
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What, do you have some dark secrets I shouldnt know? I said, trying to tease her. She gave me a curious look. What makes you think I was talking about me?
It was later in the afternoon when I had enough nerve to return to the topic of her disability. Do you ever I had to let my voice trail off. Do I ever what? Her voice was crisp. I couldnt look at her. Do you ever miss being able to walk and all? As soon as I said it I felt terrible, like a morbid bystander staring at the aftermath of a bad accident. She looked at me a moment longer than she might have otherwise, and solemnly took one of my hands. I miss hip-huggers. Hip-huggers, spike heels, and very short skirts, she told me with a serious tone of voice. I stared at her incredulously. What? Why would you miss those? I mean, you can wear all those. Youd look great in anything. Well, thanks, but the effect isnt the same sitting down, now is it? Somehow the practicality of that stunned me. I couldnt speak. Oh, you meant things like walking down the street. Or being able to take a shower standing up, or shaving my legs without having to watch that I havent cut myself badly. Not needing twenty minutes just to pull on a pair of pants. Stupid stuff like that. I felt stupid for bringing it up. I guess so.
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Well, she said briskly. You just cant think like that. How can you not? I asked, against my better instincts to just let it drop. She pulled my hand in against her very firm yet soft breast, making my heart pound. Do you remember how full of energy and life you were at, say, seventeen? I wrinkled my brow. I suppose so. Do you miss feeling like that? Her voice was soft, lulling me. Between the comforting sound of her voice and the feel of her breast against my hand I was almost past reasoning anyway. Sure. But that was a long time ago. I was just a kid. Well, I hate to break it to you, but youre never going to feel that good again. Do you spend a lot of time missing it? I could only marvel at the wisdom of her world. Youre like the bravest person in the world. Dont be silly. You dont even know all the people in the world. Well, youre the bravest person I know, anyway. She pulled me in for a hug. Everyone does what they have to do, Roger. Everyone. I could only stare at her in awe. It came out of me before I had time to think about it. No wonder I love you.
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I thought I felt her tense slightly, but maybe that was me. She didnt respond, though, and I thought perhaps Id only said it in my head, one of those impulsive thoughts that comes into your head but is vetted before it can escape. The more I thought about it, though, the clearer the truth of that statement was becoming to me. It must have been gradually forming in my head or my heart for some time. I pulled back so I could look at her full on. Callie, seriously -- I love you. There it was. The moment I said it, it felt right, and I felt a rush go through me. All that had happened to me, and to her, had a reason in this moment. We were meant to be together, meant to find each other through the convoluted circumstances that had brought us together. I felt as sure of that as Id ever felt of anything. I looked to her to see her confirmation of my feelings. The look on her face wasnt quite what I was expecting. She seemed, well, not surprised, not thrilled, but, if anything, kind of sorry. Oh, Roger, what a lovely thing to say. She patted my hand tenderly. No, I mean it, I protested, feeling the moment slipping away before it really had a chance to get established. She took both my hands in hers. Roger, you are a great guy. I like you very much. But its too early to be talking about love. I know what I feel, I told her stubbornly. My headache suddenly came back full force. Do you? she asked. Youve gone through a lot lately. Our time together has been wonderful and not just the sex, although thats been great but you dont know enough about me to love me. Sure I do. Dont you believe in love at first sight?
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Sure. The thing is, love at first sight is a lot like infatuation at first sight. It happens, but the trick is whether it lasts. She leaned in towards me and gave me a small kiss on my forehead. You cant know yet if our being together is for real or just for now. Im sure youd be honorable and stick with me if thats what I said I wanted, but its not about your honorable nature. Love takes time and lots of work. I know that, I said weakly, the weight of what she was saying falling on me. I rubbed my head. Its just enough what we have, she said. Your head hurting again? I nodded. You really should see someone about those, she suggested, touching my head tenderly. I thought about sitting in the outpatient center a few days ago and the impersonal way the technician had done the CT scans. I really should, I agreed. I might have to go see that neurologist after all.
We laid together for a long time after that, dozing periodically but neither making love again or talking much. I wished I could stay forever, but eventually it was time to get going, if I wanted to avoid Brooke. I doubted I would be able to perform again so soon, and I knew I would be too nervous about Brookes arrival to actually make good on it, but I couldnt resist a final lascivious leer. Do we have time She shoved me playfully. Stop it. You better go on and get a shower. I got up and padded to the shower, taking a long hot shower to wash off the effects of our long time together. When I came out of the bathroom she was up in her chair, wearing a
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long nightshirt and having some coffee in the kitchen. I joined her. Ive really enjoyed being here with you. She covered my hand with hers. I did too. I looked over at the door, as if Brooke might come through it unexpectedly. Are you going to tell her about us? I asked cautiously. She raised her eyebrows. What makes you think I havent already? Have you? No, she said, shaking her head. Do you want me to? I bit my lip. I dont think shed like it if she knew that we were spending time together. Its too bad, she agreed. She got a sly expression on her face. Are you going to tell your daughter about me? Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows. What makes you think I havent? I said, copying her earlier tone as best I could. She laughed, a full-throated laugh that I loved hearing. Have you? I cleared my throat. As a matter-of-fact, I have. I told her some about you this week. Hmm. She didnt seem to know what to do about that. Does she usually tell your wife things you tell her? Sometimes.
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Did you want her to tell her about me when you told her about us? To be honest, I hadnt really thought about it. I hadnt planned for that conversation, and it had happened too quickly for me to think about what to say, what not to say, and what I wanted to get back to Kathryn. I dont know, I said at last. We just looked at each other for a few seconds longer, and she broke first. She smiled and beckoned me over for a kiss, one that turned out to be both longer and more heart-felt than I might have expected. I gasped when it finished at last, and she smiled at me in satisfaction. Unfortunately, then it was time for me to go.
Chapter 27 I didnt see Callie for a few days after that. She seemed to have a lot going on, and, frankly, I thought maybe my having brought up being in love with her had spooked her a little. I decided not to press the issue, and try to give her a little space, a little time to get used to the idea. Still, I missed her. The neurologist was a serious guy a few years younger than me, with a thick beard and no small talk. His office was in the medical building next to the University hospital. The building seemed to be full of old, sick people, and all the various people who made some money off of them. It struck me belatedly that I was now one of those sick people, even if not quite old, at least not by comparison. He asked me a bunch of questions, tapped me in a few places, and suggested we go ahead and get the MRI. Just to be sure, he said. If it had been Alan instead of this stranger, I might have been able to tell if he was hiding something, but as it was I could only wonder. The CT results could have come out with some deadly signs, instead of the neutral results he was admitting to me. All I could do at this point was play along. He told me hed schedule the MRI, and it might take a week or
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two to get an appointment. That at least reassured me he must not really be immediately concerned. It was only after I left his office that I realized it was equally possible he knew the MRI was pointless and was only ordering it to give me some faint hope everything would be OK. What scared me wasnt the MRI itself, but what would come next. Right now I was just having tests. Once he told me what was wrong Id have to start doing something about it, and I really wasnt too sure I was ready to do that. I didnt mind having something mysteriously wrong with me, a tragic and probably fatal malady that served me right but didnt really interfere with my life. I could keep it a secret and not actually have to make any decisions or change my life. Taking the MRI would change all that. Id belong to the doctors and all the cruel little things theyd want to do next. Id have to act like a responsible adult and take care of whatever it was. I was tired of being an adult. The adult had left with Kathryn. She wasnt coming back, and neither was that me.
When the phone rang, I was disappointed to see it was Garys number instead of Callies. Hello? I said, sounding a little more disappointed than Id intended. Well, its gloomy Gus himself, Gary said cheerfully. Shut up. Listen, I called to give you some good news. I can hang up if youd rather not hear it. That intrigued me. What? Well, Steve Boyce is going to call you today. Why?
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What do you mean, why? Hes going to offer you a job, of course. I was speechless. A job? Why would he offer me a job? Gary was blithely upbeat. Well, he liked you. You impressed him in your interview, as I knew you would. Interview? We were just having lunch. It wasnt an interview. Gary laughed. Youre an idiot, he told me in an affectionate tone of voice. Of course it was an interview. And now he wants to hire you. I didnt know what to say. He went on to describe the job sort of a traveling consultant for AMK, visiting big customers like Exly and making sure they were making the best of their products. Boyce must have called him to explain the whole thing and get Garys thoughts. I dont think Id make a great salesman, I said reluctantly, thinking about what hed told me. In the back of my mind I was also wondering what the point of a new job would be, especially if I was going to be dead in a few months. Well, if nothing else, there was the health insurance. The best salesmen dont seem like salesmen. Your job would be helping customers figure out how to solve their problems. Thats what you like to do, right? Youre perfect for it. I dont know what kind of salary Boyce is offering, but he knows what you were making here, and Im sure it will be pretty decent. Do me a favor, though. What? I was too numb to know what to think. Two favors, actually. First, act surprised when he tells you.
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That wont be too hard, I said honestly. I wouldnt believe it unless or until Boyce really did call. And then call me before you make any decisions. Why, I said, feeling some bitterness. You going to make me a counteroffer? Maybe, he said coyly. Im still working on it. Yeah, right. No, really, he said, sounding sincere. Oh, and your friend Ray. What? I asked, confused by his change of direction. Hes going to get in Franklin. What do you mean? I mean, theyre going to offer him a full ride room and board, tuition, the works. Theyre going to get in touch with him today. Youre kidding! I exclaimed. All of a sudden the weight in my head lifted and I felt great. I could still be happy for him. He assured me that he was serious, that President Carter had been most impressed with Ray and went to bat for him. He evenly idly mused about talking to Ray about an internship at Exly next summer; evidently if Carter thought highly of Ray, Gary felt he must have something special indeed. I hung up the phone feeling stunned at how quickly things were changing. Still, I waited nervously for Boyce to call before I let myself believe it. True to form, Boyce called an hour or so later, confirming everything. I didnt
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have to act surprised; I still was surprised. As Gary had promised, it was a pretty good job, not a salesman per se but mostly just listening and trying to help. You would have to travel a good bit, of course. Is that a problem? In my former life, I didnt really like to be away from home because I missed my family and my home too much. I involuntarily glanced around my apartment. It was nice enough, but not really that distinguishable from a hotel room, if it came right down to it. No, I said. After I got off the phone with Boyce, I called Callie and invited her to dinner. I have some good news, I announced. Tell me now. She seemed happy enough to hear from me, I thought, listening closely for any signs that she was reluctant to see me. No, I said mysteriously. Ill tell you in person. She agreed and we made plans for me to pick her up about eight. I could barely contain my excitement, and I went over to Brewed Heaven about seven thirty, wanting to see if Ray had received his news. He was behind the counter with another pretty coworker, this one a redhead with frizzy hair. She was chattering away to him non-stop and he seemed to just be tolerating her, although she seemed oblivious to his lack of responses. He glanced at me as if I were just another customer. Hey, Ray, I said as casually as I could muster. Roger, he replied neutrally, his voice betraying nothing. Brewed Heaven was busy, with most of the tables occupied and a steady drone of conversation going on. I ordered some coffee, and took an easy chair until things quieted down a little. After a few minutes he came by to clean up some of the tables near me. Hows it going?
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He looked up at me, and a slow smile came across his face before he caught himself and looked around to see if anyone had seen it. Not bad. I noticed he had a magazine rolled up and sticking out of his back pocket. I nodded towards it and tried to make a joke about it. Playboy? He smiled briefed to acknowledge the remark, looked over to make sure his coworker had things covered, and pulled up a chair near me, which kind of surprised me. No, its The Economist. Im reading this story about dark energy. I frowned. What, like coal? That made him laugh. No, not quite. Itswell, its a little complicated. Physics or cosmology, I guess youd say. Huh, I said skeptically. Why does The Economist have articles about physics? They have articles about all sorts of things. Theyre really good at explaining complicated things clearly. I already had the feeling this was going to be more complicated than I was going to be able to follow, but he seemed eager to talk more about it. Give me the version for dummies. He got a faraway look on his face and looked out the window. OK. You know about atoms and electrons and all that stuff? The things that you and me and everything you can see are made of? Yeah, sure.
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Thats all normal matter, OK? Stars, planets are all made of the same kind of atoms too. The thing of it is all of the so-called normal matter only makes up five or ten percent of all the mass in the universe. It does? I asked, confused. What do you mean? I dont get it. He nodded sagely. Right. Neither did physicists at first. Then they played around with their theories and equations, and came up with this idea of dark matter. I thought you said it was dark energy. I could feel myself getting over my head. Ray noticed my hesitation and put a comforting hand out in the air. I did, he assured me. It gets weirder. OK, dark matter is sort of like regular matter, except it is produced at higher energies, higher than we can produce in laboratories. Its real heavy, has a lot of energy and mass locked up in them. So thats the rest of the mass? I asked, getting interested despite myself. No, he said with a quick smile. Their best guess is that the dark matter is only another twenty or so percent. I frowned again, doing the math in my head. Even I could figure that one out. So whats the rest? The other, what, seventy or seventy-five percent? Thats the dark energy, he told me calmly. I felt as though we were making progress, albeit small. And so what is it? He raised his palms up in apology. They dont know. I wasnt sure he wasnt making fun of me. What do you mean they dont know? Seventy-five percent of the universe is missing and they dont know what it is?
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He nodded, pretty satisfied with himself. Pretty much. They can tell it must be there by the impact on the rest of the mass on that measly five percent we can see with the stars and galaxies and all, but they have no idea what it is. I surveyed him carefully. He seemed quite happy about all this. You know some strange shit, you know, Ray? He shook his head. I dont make this stuff up, you know. You couldnt make this stuff up. Im just interested in learning about it. He paused, and almost seemed to smile. I like the idea that the world -- the universe goes along and there are these unfathomable forces at work acting upon everything, forces we have no understanding of. We cant see them, we cant feel them, we dont know how they impact us. We dont even have any idea what they might be. Not even these real smart scientists. He gave me a serious look. It makes me feel less ignorant that there is stuff like this that no one understands. Id taken physics in college, so I knew a little about quantum physics and how strange it was, and Id struggled my way through about half of Stephen Hawkings book A Brief History of Time when it had come out. So, while I couldnt pretend to understand these weird ideas that Ray was telling me, at least the concept of them wasnt so unthinkable. I dont know, I said, smiling. I like the idea that there are people who are stubborn enough to think they can figure this kind of strange stuff out, not just sit back and assume the world is beyond our comprehension. Youre a guy like that, I think, Ray. He didnt quite seem to know what to do with that. He looked at me with his head tilted off to one side reflectively. Then he looked down at the floor almost shyly. I got some good news today. His voice sounded odd; subdued but with a barely contained energy. I tried to act like I didnt know what was coming. Really? He looked up at me. It looks like Im going to college after all.
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Gary had gotten the story right. Hed start Franklin in the winter semester, and have all his expenses covered. He was going to audit a couple of prep classes this semester just to help him get ready. His voice was matter-of-fact about the whole thing, as if he was telling me a story about someone else. I waited for him to finish, which didnt take long; he was remarkably succinct, given the magnitude of the news. So, are you excited? He glanced over at his coworker, who gave him a quick smile before turning back to her work. She seemed to blush a little, and I had the impression she thought we were talking about her and she didnt mind. Yeah, I am. I had to smile at that, because I was going to have to take his word for it. Im happy for you, Ray, I really am. You deserve it. He looked kind of embarrassed, as best I could tell. Embarrassed but a little excited. I have some pretty good news too, I told him. I got a job offer today. I wanted to leave out the part about my appointment with the neurologist and that darker road. His eyes widened and he broke into a big smile. Really? One of your interviews came through? I explained to him the strange saga of how I ended up with the job, and he couldnt stop smiling. He seemed happier about my news than his own. When I was done he reached out and shook my hand. Congratulations, man. Thats good news. We both have good news, I said firmly. Well have to celebrate. Sure, he said. He eyed me carefully. Only Im guessing tonight you and Callie are going to do some celebrating. If Im lucky, my man. If Im lucky.
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We made plans to go out to dinner the next night, and I walked over towards Callies apartment building. I was whistling and feeling on top if the world. I couldnt remember the last time Id felt so happy. Certainly not since Kathryn had left, and probably not for a long time before that. I was in such a good mood that at first the noises coming from the alley didnt register. At first I couldnt figure out what the thuds were, but when I heard the loud crack I realized that the sounds had been kicks or blows landing on someone, and that the crack was a gunshot. The grunts and then the scream after the gunshot confirmed that a human was at the receiving end. Dumbfounded, I paused at the entrance of the alley and stared down the alley. The alley was dark, but about thirty feet from me I could make out three men standing around the slumped figure of a fourth man. One of the standing men took aim at the mans knee and fired the gun again. This time there was no doubt what it was. That will keep you still, the man with the gun said clearly. I didnt know what to do. I stood there frozen. It wasnt that I was scared, not exactly. It was more that it didnt seem real. It was like I was watching some sort of sick movie. My real life did not include scenes like this, and my lack of reaction seemed due to my brain simply being unable to process what my eyes were seeing. Or so I told myself. One of the men handed the first man a can. He took it and started to splash the sitting man with the contents of it, over his weak protests. He seemed to be carefully putting the fluid on different spots on the man, and I couldnt figure out what he was doing. He handed the can back to one of the other men, and crouched down next to the injured man. He took out a book of matches, and I realized at last what he had been doing. So did the sitting man. He whimpered and begged the man not to do it, but the man just laughed. He lit a match and dropped it on one of the moistened patches. It immediately blazed and the man stood up with a satisfied look. You know, I once told you that I
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wouldnt piss on you if you were on fire. Well, he said, as the mans whimpers grew louder, what do you think? Should I? The man screamed and begged them to help him. The lead guy then actually did just what hed offered to do: he took out his penis and urinated on the fire. Then he took out another match, dropped it on another primed spot, and laughed as it lit up. He quickly lit two other matches, and stood back as they caught fire on the man as well. By now the prone man was screaming loudly. I feared theyd look around to see if he was attracting any attention, but they were too engrossed in the mayhem they were inflicting to spot me gawking at them. Ah, hell, the man said. This is taking too long. Just dump it all on him. The man on the ground screamed in protest, but it was to no avail. The man with the can unscrewed the top and poured the rest of the gasoline on him, causing him to erupt in a sheet of flame and to make the most pitiful sound of agony I have ever heard or ever wish to hear. With that, the three men turned and started to walk towards me. At that point I realized Id waited much too long. I looked down and discovered that my mobile phone was already in my hand, my unconscious mind having continued to work even though the rational part of my brain had shut down. I glanced down at it stupidly, unsure whether to dial 911 or just to flee. I looked up and saw the men walking towards me, not hurrying or showing any worry about my unexpected presence. Just as I was about to dial, the man reached me and took my phone. Making a call? he sneered. He was a big man, muscular and hard. I gauged him to be perhaps in his early thirties but weathered well beyond those years. His hair was closely cropped. I noticed a scar that ran down the side of his cheek, and some tattoos that rose from his shirt on his neck. His eyes were pale blue and gave his face had a cruel look to it, although the scene Id just witnessed might have colored that impression. The two men behind him were bigger but somehow less well formed version of him, adding to his air of menace to me and leadership of the whole scene.
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He looked down at my phone reflectively, then with a sudden burst threw it on the ground. For good effect he stamped on it twice, reducing it to rubble. He carefully picked it up and handed it back to me. I dont think you want to be calling anyone, right, pal? Against my better judgment, I looked back down the alley, where the man was no longer moving. The flames were still burning, although much reduced, having run out of the easiest things to burn. As best I could make out, his entire body was blackened and burned. The man grabbed my face in one hand and turned it towards him, gripping it with astonishing strength. You dont look like you belong in this neighborhood, pal. His voice was quiet but full of menace. So let me tell you you werent here. Understand? You werent here, you didnt see anything, and you most definitely are not going to call anyone. Got it? I didnt know what to say or do, but he took the initiative for me. He nodded my head up and down for me like I was a puppet, then stepped away. He seemed to be studying me to see what Id do. I felt as though by not saying anything I was somehow failing my civic duty, betraying the dead man lying up in the alley. But I was frightened beyond anything I could think to do. The man seemed to make up his mind, and gave a brief nod to one of the other men. The man stepped forward and hit me hard in the stomach. It took away my breath and dropped me to the ground. Just a reminder, pal, the lead man said gruffly. Youre no hero, so dont get any second thoughts about being one after we leave. With that they walked away without a backward glance.
Chapter 28 I think I just witnessed a murder, I told Callie.
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I had somehow managed to stagger to Callies apartment. Shed opened the door with her usual smile, seeming happy to see me, but her face had clouded up as soon as she took in my appearance. If I looked half as shaken up as I felt, she had every right to look concerned. Come inside, she said, leading me in and directing me to the couch. What do you mean, you think you witnessed a murder? Her tone was more curious than concerned, suggesting she wasnt quite sure if she believed me or not. It took a couple times telling her the story before I fully conveyed the story, and her face grew increasingly wide-eyed as I told it. We have to call 911, she exclaimed once Id finally finished. I paused, and she noticed my hesitation. What? The guy was pretty clear on this point, I reminded her, thinking back to my confrontation. I dont think he was kidding. Youre not seriously thinking of not doing anything, are you? she asked almost indignantly. No, I admitted, although that was not entirely the truth. We called the police, and within a couple minutes we heard the sirens. Id told them both where the body was and who I was, as well as where they could find me. We couldnt see the alley from Callies window, so we didnt actually witness the arrival or subsequent actions of the police. It was at least a half an hour later before the knock on Callies door came. Two men were standing there the younger man dressed in a rumpled suit and the older man in a sports coat and slacks -- and eying us suspiciously. They identified themselves as police officers and came inside, pulling out their notepads.
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Im Detective Silverman, the older one announced, This is Detective Morris. Which of you saw what happened? Silverman looked to be around fifty, balding and with large bags under his eyes that were either the result of chronic lack of sleep or some genetic mistakes. He was a large man, with a powerful frame that carried a few more pounds than it probably had when hed been at his fighting weight. Unlike a lot of large men, he didnt seem to use his size to intimidate, but it was hard to miss nonetheless. Morris looked smaller and much younger, maybe in his thirties. He appeared brimming with energy by comparison to his partner. He eyed me suspiciously, while Silverman appeared to be fairly indifferent about the whole thing. I admitted that Id been the witness, and repeated them the story Id already told Callie, this time a little more concisely. Nonetheless, they made me walk through it a second time, asking me more questions as I went through it. Somewhat to my surprise, I was able to describe the three assailants pretty well, their faces imprinted in my memory. I caught the quick glance the two of them exchanged when I told them about the scar and the neck tattoos on the killer. They also took my ruined phone carefully, using latex gloves to put it inside an evidence bag. They asked if I would accompany them to the alley, which I did. Callie accompanied us, against the advice of the detectives and my own weak protests. The alley was now swarming with policemen and other official looking people, and was marked off with police tape and lit by large floodlights. A forensic photographer was taking pictures of the still smoldering body I heard Callie gasp when she saw that while others were searching the area carefully. I showed the detectives where I had been standing, and described the sequence of events again. They asked if Id mind coming to the station to look at some photos, and suggested Callie go back to her apartment. She offered to come with me, but I told her Id be all right. She reluctantly agreed, and as I rode away with them I watched her watch us drive away,
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looking brave and alone amidst all the activity that swarmed around her. I felt even more alone, and much less brave, as the car took me away. I was at the police station for a few hours. Much of the time I was just sitting, while they talked among themselves or filled out paper work. They showed me probably fifty or so mug shots on the computer. The man with the gun was one of them, as was the one who had hit me. Before I left, they introduced me to an assistant District Attorney Phillips, who had me tell my story yet another time. He was in his forties, well dressed and seemingly quite impressed with himself. He seemed annoyed about something. I couldnt tell if it was the murder itself or me for bringing it to him. Even at that late hour, his suit was well pressed, his tie knotted just so, and his hair was perfectly in place. He took notes on legal pads, his writing filling up the lines exactly in a perfect display of Catholic school handwriting. One suspected that he was a guy who liked to get things exactly right. They asked me why I was in the neighborhood and exactly what my relationship with Callie was. What difference does that make? I asked, feeling defensively. Were just checking things out, Mr. Sinclair, Silverman said soothingly. Behind him, though, Morris had a sardonic look on his face that said, hey, Ive seen her, and you arent her type, pal. I tried to ignore him, but he decided to go on the attack. Why did you just stand there while they were frying the guy? I just stared at him. What Detective Morris means, Silverman said patiently, is why didnt you call for help when you saw what was going on? I slowly exhaled a breath I didnt know Id been holding and shook my head sadly. I dont know. I cant explain it. I wished I could, I really did. I wished Id somehow
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intervened heroically, but I hadnt. A man had died and Id watched him. I felt terrible about it, and these guys were making me feel worse about it. Morris and Phillips exchanged glances. I could tell that they thought less of me. Surely, they seemed to be communicating telepathically, we would have done something, captured the bad guy and maybe even saved the burned guys life. Silverman just regarded me with his steady expression. Lets move on, he suggested, and had me tell them again about the sequence of events. It was almost midnight before we finished up. I was exhausted and realized Id never had any dinner, but I had no appetite. Id promised to Callie Id call when I was finished, which I did from the police station. She sounded wide awake and concerned. She offered to have me come over, or to come with me to my apartment which would have been a first but after talking it through we mutually agreed we should call it a night. It wasnt that I didnt want to see her or take comfort in her arms, but I just knew I wouldnt be fit company. The detectives had a uniformed officer drive me back to my car, which was still parked near Callies building. I was a little spooked, knowing the killer was out there somewhere and glad I had the policeman watching me until I got safely to my car. I went back to my apartment and tried unsuccessfully to get some sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I thought of the man on fire, and every time I opened them I thought of the man with the scar. I wasnt sure which was worse.
The next morning Detective Silverman called me around eleven, and asked if I could come down to view some line-ups. I drove to the stationhouse Id spent so long at the previous evening, and again had to wait while things got organized, in some process that appeared disorganized to me but which must have had its own logic. The line-up wasnt like it was on television. I only got to see the suspects one at a time, not all at once. They had each of the men say something, and give me both frontal and side views. The fifth man I saw was the man with the scar, and I practically froze, even though I knew he couldnt see me. Thats him, I managed. Thats the guy who lit the fire.
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Are you sure? Detective Morris asked. Positive. I also identified both of the other men, having to go through twenty or so others to get to them. The policemen seemed pleased, and asked me to wait a few minutes. They got me a soda and once again I had to wait by myself, this time for almost an hour. When they returned ADA Phillips was with them. Phillips sat down across from me, while Morris sat on the edge of the table and Silverman leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets. Mr. Sinclair, Phillips began. Weve arrested a man named Amos Russo for the murder you witnessed last night. Wow, that was quick. I was impressed. Well, he said, we dont usually get such good help from concerned citizens. You gave us a very good description of Russo and his accomplices who we arrested with him and Detectives Silverman and Morris did some solid police work to close the case. The two detectives nodded their heads to acknowledge the compliment, although Phillips stayed focused on me. Plus, his fingerprints were all over your phone, and Im sure the DNA will show its his piss all over that alley, just like you described. I took a couple seconds to take it all in. It was hard to believe that it was all over, less than twenty-four hours after it had begun. So what now? Phillips rocked his head back and forth like his neck was tight. Now we start the process of convicting the bastard. There will be an arraignment, probably some preliminary motions by his lawyers, jury selection, and eventually the trial.
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How long will all this take? Depends, Phillips said with a shrug. Best case, a month or six weeks. Worst case, maybe up to a year. Im thinking Russo will plead out, seeing as we have him dead to rights. He paused, and cocked his head at me. I didnt like his look. Now, Mr. Sinclair, a lot depends on you. Do you understand that? Sure, I responded, not sure why they were reminding me of that. The thing is, Detective Silverman interjected, Russo has been convicted a couple times, but hes also had a lot of cases dismissed. Why? Witnesses change their story, Morris added ominously. That sort of thing. Phillips leaned in towards me somewhat dramatically. Youre not going to do anything like that, are you, Mr. Sinclair? I looked at him in surprise. Why would I do that? People get scared, change their mind, Silverman said laconically. He crossed his arms over his chest. Maybe get confused about what they saw. I looked around at the three of them, noticing the tension that Id missed before. Am I in some danger here? I asked carefully. Phillips took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Mr. Sinclair, were going to request that they be held without bail, and Im confident the judge will see it our way. Mr. Russo is a cold-blooded, sadistic killer and he doesnt belong on the streets. Youll be safe.
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I nodded slowly, as though they were convincing me. In truth, I was suddenly almost as frightened as I had been in that alley. They seemed a little too eager to convince me. Then I guess none of us has anything to worry about.
I was kind of charged up, and I couldnt bear the thought of returning to my apartment. I wanted to see Callie, but part of me didnt want her to see me like this. I needed some time to calm down, and figured Id visit the calmest person I knew. So I went to Brewed Heaven. Fortunately, he was working. Hey, Ray, he said as I came in. There were only a few other patrons inside. He poured me a cup of coffee and handed it to me. I sat down at the counter near where he was standing. You missed all the big excitement in the neighborhood last night, he said, sounding like he was just making conversation. No, no, I didnt, I replied flatly. He looked at me with narrowed eyes. What do you mean? I was getting pretty good at telling my story. He listened without expression, but clearly not missing a word. I just got back from the police station, I said in conclusion. They just arrested -- -- Amos Russo, Ray interjected quietly, surprising me. His voice sounded weary. I stared at him. How did you know that? He sighed. I heard some of the details about what they did to that guy, and I thought it sounded like old Amos. Then when you mentioned the scar I was sure. You know him?
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Ray nodded, not happily. Yeah. He hangs around Micks a lot. Plus, we overlapped in prison for a year or so. I didnt know him well, but I knew his reputation. He was a badass then too. So, yeah, I know Russo. Bad guy? I hazarded. He nodded again, this time clearly unhappy. Bad guy, he confirmed. Not a guy you want to mess with. He gave me a firm look. Not a guy you want to testify against. But I have to, I protested. I was there. I saw him. He killed that poor guy. I dont doubt it, Ray said. I dont doubt it at all. All Im saying is stay out of it. Nothing good is going to come of you getting mixed up in this. The guys dead. Nothing you can do about it. My jaw dropped. You cant be serious. He gave me that deadpan expression. I am. He certainly looked serious. But I saw the whole thing. Its my civic duty, I insisted, my head pounding like crazy. I had to remind myself that Callie had to help me with the civic duty part. I wasnt entirely sure what Id have done had I not seen her immediately afterward. I liked to think Id have called the police anyway, but a part of me still wondered. I wasnt going to admit that to Ray. Youd do the same thing. He shook his head. Ive seen worse, he told me, leaving me to wonder what that might have been, and not really wanting to find out. I told you what I learned in prison: mind your own business. You would let him get away with murder? I asked incredulously.
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Ray looked over at a young couple that had come in. They seemed blithely unaware of the neighborhoods recent drama, and I wished I lived in their world again. I wished the man hadnt been killed, and that I hadnt stopped by the alley when he had been. But I couldnt change what had happened. Ray turned his head back to me. I would take care of myself. He watched to make sure his words sunk in, then he walked away to wait on the happier couple. I finished up my coffee and went back to my apartment. I didnt even feel up to seeing Callie.
Chapter 29 The next couple of months were quite busy. I started work for AMK, and had to do several weeks of training at their corporate offices in Dallas. I usually flew out Sunday night and didnt get home until late Friday night, so I didnt have much time to see Callie or Ray, or to be in my apartment. I missed Callie and Ray but have to confess that I didnt miss my apartment. My hotel in Dallas wasnt much different, when you came right down to it. I enjoyed the people I met at AMK, from Boyce on down, and found I already knew a lot about their products. While I was in Dallas Boyce made a point of stopping by every so often, just to see how I was doing, and I always enjoyed our little chats. After the fourth week, they started sending me out to some of the sales offices, to talk with their regional sales managers about their clients and how they were using the AMK products. Eventually these would be the clients I would consult with, and I was looking forward to getting a chance to do so. I periodically talked to the police, or, more often, to ADA Phillips. I had to appear before the grand jury, and be deposed by Russos lawyer. When I heard Id have to do the latter,
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I was worried about having to sit across the table from Russo. He was scary enough even while he was locked up with no bail; Phillips had managed to keep Russo and his partners off the street while we were waiting for the trial. But Phillips told me Russo had the right to be at the deposition. I imagined him leaping across the table to strangle me in front of the impassive eyes of the court reporter, and it scared the hell out of me. Phillips assured me it would be OK, but I noticed he had Silverman and Morris along with him when it came time for the deposition. As it turned out, Russo didnt even attend, leaving it entirely to his lawyer, a public defender who had been assigned to the case by the judge. He only asked me a few questions, appearing entirely uninterested in what I had to say. It was over in less than twenty minutes. I dont get it, Morris said afterward. Hes not trying to delay the trial date, hes not trying to get any of the evidence suppressed, and now he didnt even care about Sinclairs testimony? What gives? I was sitting with them in a conference room. Russos lawyer had left and we were sitting around debriefing. Maybe he knows hes got no case, I offered. Phillips shook his head. We offered Russo a couple of pleas, and his lawyer advised him to take them, but he turned them all down. If he thought he didnt have a case hed be looking for ways to reduce his sentence. He thought for a moment, clearly frustrated. No, hes got something up his sleeve, but I cant figure it out what the hell it is. Weve got him cold but theres something were missing. I dont know what it is, but there must be something. The three of them looked at me expectantly. I saw what I saw, I told them defensively. If I wasnt sure, I wouldnt have gone through all this. Youre not going to back down on us, are you? Morris asked aggressively.
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No. No change of heart, no change of story? Phillips added. Hey, I want this guy in jail as much as you do, I exclaimed. Probably more. Hes mad at me now, so hell be looking for me if he gets off. I have every incentive to keep him where he belongs, behind bars. Anything about your life they could use against you on the stand? Phillips probed. I hesitated for just a second, and that was my mistake. What is it? Silverman asked carefully. So I had to tell them about Brooke Haywood and how Id lost my job. That led into telling them about Kathryn leaving me as well, and when I got done we sat there silently for a moment. I think they felt a little sorry for me. Phillips looked at the two detectives. I still dont see how any of that helps Russos case. Whatever happened, hes not a nut job. Hell, hes already got a girlfriend and another job. Hell make a solid witness. Hell do just fine. He paused, thinking. Still, check out the sexual harassment thing, make sure nothings going to blow up in our faces. Morris nodded. Will do. Silverman looked up. I think Russo is just playing us. How so? I asked. He shrugged, a world-weary gesture that bespoke of too many investigations into too many criminals he wished hed never had to get to know. Hes a two time loser. If he
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gets convicted here, thats it. So unless we plea down to a misdemeanor which aint going to happen hes got no hope. So? Morris and Phillips seemed equally interested in Silvermans speculation. Silverman looked at Phillips and Morris in turn, and smiled half-heartedly at me. So, the trial is just entertainment. Its all hes got. Hes going to lose but hell just trying to have a little fun along the way. I hoped he was right.
I somehow kept skipping getting my MRI. I knew it would be bad news, and I just didnt feel ready to get it. The new job and my time away from home were good excuses to not make an appointment. I made the mistake of mentioning it once to Callie. She started asking me about it, then began nagging me until I finally made an appointment. The MRI itself wasnt so bad; it was the waiting to hear the results that really got to me. Every time the phone rang I thought it would be the neurologist with news about my probably terminal condition. I started screening my calls more, but when the neurologist called I was in Dallas. He just left a message asking me to call him back. I figured for sure that meant it was bad news; good news he could have just left on the message. I figured I couldnt just not call him back, so instead I carefully choose times to call that I didnt think he wouldnt be around. It was cowardly, I knew, but if it served to delay the inevitable news another day, it was worth it. I wished I could say that I used my impending doom to understand more about life, but I cant. I didnt take more time to enjoy sunrises or simply being around to breath. Instead of helping me feel more alive while I was still alive, it just served as a reason not to care so much about my future. There just didnt seem much point in it.
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The funny thing was, the headaches were less bad. I still had them, but they didnt seem as severe. I thought I was just getting used to them, and, in a funny sort of way, I kind of missed the way they used to be. None of this disillusioned me about my fate. I knew the news would be bad. I just didnt yet know how bad.
One weekend I went to visit Bridget in Atlanta instead of going home. She picked me up at the airport and drove me to her rented townhouse near Buckhead. The trees were changing colors and everything looked so lovely. Atlanta is a city of trees, at least away from the barren downtown that looks like urban renewal had struck but forgotten the renewal part. I was glad to drive by it as quickly as possible. No wonder the most interesting part of the downtown is called The Underground. It had been a couple years since Kathryn and I had been down to see her. Those had been happy times. Kathryn and I had enjoyed that visit, and had especially enjoyed having our grown baby showing us around her adopted city like a native. We came away shaking our heads at how quickly time had passed, amazed at how easily shed moved on to her new phase of life. Now I was the one in a new phase of life, and my growth felt like I was struggling a lot more than she had. It was bittersweet to balance the joy of seeing Bridget with the painful memories of that better time here. I had to wonder how Kathryns transition was going. Bridget showed me around her townhouse, and I tried to remember what was there then and what might be new. Very nice, I offered diplomatically. She seemed pleased. On Saturday she told me she had a couple projects that she wanted help with. I suspected that she could have done them herself and that she just was letting me do them to give me something to do. I didnt mind. It gave me something to do, and I realized how much Id missed doing things with my hands. It wasnt my home but it was Bridgets home, and that was almost as satisfying. We went to Home Depot to buy some tools and supplies,
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and spent the afternoon working. I didnt make any masterpieces, but I felt proud about leaving a little something better in her home. She took me out to dinner at a place she liked, the Buckhead Diner. It was crowded and noisy, and she seemed quite happy to be out and about. I could see people turn their heads to stare at her. It reminded me a little of being with Callie, which was a little weird. Only with Bridget I had no uncertainty about deserving to be with her. I watched her with such pride that my heart almost burst, and it was all I could do to keep from smiling like an idiot. After we ordered I asked her how her job was. She happily filled me in what she was doing, most of which was somewhat beyond me but I still was thrilled by the confidence and enthusiasm with which she told me. She attacked her food ravenously, and I had to admit that my meatloaf was pretty good as well. So how is your new, umm, friend? she asked, not quite looking me in the eye. What friend is that? I responding, playing it a little coy. Your girlfriend. Ah, I said, putting down my fork. That friend. Shes fine. To be honest, I hadnt seen much of Callie in recent weeks. I was gone during the week, of course, and it never seemed like there enough time on the weekend. She had things to do, needed to spend time with her sister and friends and such. I supposed that if we were really involved shed have made sure that when I was around shed make sure she had time for me, but I gathered I didnt have that kind of call on her. Still, I called her when I got lonely during the week, and she always seemed happy enough to talk to me. I also did get see her most weekends, but never for as long as I would have liked. More noticeably, there were no invitations to her bed, and I didnt press the issue.
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I didnt know why things had changed. It might have been me telling her that I loved her, or it might have been the murder, but one way or another things had definitely cooled. I missed her terribly, hoped that it was just a phase, but quietly was preparing myself in case our relationship had settled on some different, more Platonic, plateau. I did know why I didnt press the issue: I still didnt think I deserved her. Bridget nodded. Are you guys getting more serious? I tried to keep my expression calm, not to show the sadness that the answer caused me. I dont think so, no. Shes just a special person. She cleared her throat. Ive been waiting for the right time to talk to you about something. Are you engaged? I asked, jumping to conclusions and worried that Id somehow missed so much of her life that my little girl had gone and gotten serious about a boy I didnt even know. Engaged or pregnant, and, of the two, I supposed the former was preferable. Call me old-fashioned. I thought, too, about the bad news I was going to have to tell her one of these days, after I finally talked to the neurologist. Maybe I wouldnt tell her. Maybe Id leave that sad task to her mother, after something finally happened to me and someone thought to notify my ex-wife. Theyd both be upset I hadnt told them, and maybe then Kathryn would feel a little guilty about having left me. I could only hope that Bridget would give my silence on the matter retroactive benefit of the doubt, trusting that I was only trying to protect her. I chose not to believe she would think me a coward for not telling her, although I was. Engaged? she asked, clearly surprised. Christ, no. She put up an apologizing hand. Excuse my language. No, Im not anywhere close to being engaged. Its about mom.
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Your mother? Now it was my turn to be surprised. I immediately thought she had trumped my brain disorder with some serious illness of her own and was frightened for her. My heart sank. What about her? Well, she started, looking around the room as if hoping that there might be a fire or some other diversion that would rescue her from having to finish her statement. Nothing convenient presented itself, so she was forced to continue. Shes involved with someone. I sat back in my chair, my appetite suddenly gone. The news was both better and worse than I had feared. She is? Bridget nodded, looking at me with worried eyes. I tried to tiptoe my way through this new and unexplored territory. And she, umm, wanted you to tell me about this? Bridget put her hands flat on the table, surrounding her plate. It wasnt so much that she wanted me to as she thought it was all right if I did. She thought you should know. I pursed my lips thoughtfully. And, ah, anything you want to tell me about her -- what do I call him -- her new boyfriend? Thats the thing, she said, dropping her head and speaking so softly I wasnt quite sure Id heard her. Its not a he. Excuse me? She raised her head and put her hands together. Moms dating this very nice lady. Ive met her and shes very nice.
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Youre mother is a lesbian? I asked, the words sounding ridiculous as I said them. I couldnt imagine such a thing. I knew Kathryn had friends who were gay, male and female, but I never in a million years would have expected that she might be gay herself. Shes dating a woman, Bridget said, still not quite meeting my eyes. I guess that makes her a lesbian, or at least bisexual. I think shes not quite sure what she wants right now, but Sally thats her friends name is helping her through things. Your mother is a lesbian? I repeated incredulously. Saying it again didnt make it sound any more believable. Bridget just looked at me, not knowing what to say. We sat there watching each other for a few long seconds. Well, that about takes the cake, doesnt it? I kept my voice light, which wasnt easy, and finally her face allowed a small smile. Its a pisser, all right. I had to ask. Anyone I know? Bridget had more news, each of which hit me like a stone. No, it wasnt anyone I knew. Yes, Kathryn had moved to Atlanta. Yes, shed gotten a job, in the development office at Emory; it had been in the works for some months before shed left me. No, she hadnt started seeing this woman until after shed moved. I tried to listen to all this without my head exploding, and somehow survived the dinner. She also asked about Ray, not remembering his name but remembering Id done some things with him. I told her about his finally getting into college, without telling her my role in it. Ray was looking forward to starting at Franklin, and having no problem in his prep courses. That didnt surprise me either, knowing how bright he was and how hard he was willing to work. I usually stopped in to see him at Brewed Heaven when I was home, if only for a few minutes, and it always cheered me up to get his small smile of recognition when I came in. He always asked me how my girlfriend was meaning
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Callie, of course and I took to answering that she wasnt my girlfriend, which appeared to be the case. I thought he just liked teasing me about it. Ray always had some interesting book with him, and continued to tell me facts Id never heard of. It wasnt like he was showing off or bragging; he just really enjoyed finding out new things about the world, and I was flattered that he wanted to share them with me. I doubted he told his coworkers about the life at the bottom of the ocean or the origins of the Silk Road, but I listened with interest as he shared these kinds of things with me. I wondered if he would do so with his teachers, or if hed be the quiet kid in the back row, sitting and taking notes but never speaking up. Both scenarios seemed equally possible. He was as reserved as someone could be, but he was enthralled with learning. It would be an interesting challenge for him, but somehow I figured hed find his own way to a solution that fit him. He even got himself a mobile phone, and I was honored that he gave me the number. Bridget didnt know what to make of Ray, but said she was glad I was making friends. I told her about Boyce and some of the other people I was meeting at AMK, but she intuitively zoomed in on the fact that none of them meant as much to me as Ray did, even though I saw him much less. I didnt know what I was to him a friend, an acquaintance, perhaps a father figure of some sort but I told Bridget that I valued knowing him. Youll have to introduce me to him next time Im up there, she said. Him and this Callie woman too. Id be glad to, I said, while wondering how such a meeting would turn out or if it would ever happen. Bridget asked about the trial, of course, her face shaken by the thought of what I had witnessed and what I had yet to go through. I didnt like talking to her about it and tried to keep the conversation as brief and superficial as she would allow. I didnt like my own
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exposure to that world, and was sorry Id gotten Callie involved in it to the extent she had been. I was determined to not have my lovely daughter dragged into it. The weekend went by too quickly, and before I was ready I was on my way back to Dallas. I hugged Bridget longer than I normally would have, reassured by the contact with her. I used to hug her when things went wrong when she was a child. Now it seemed it was her reassuring me.
A couple of weeks before the trial Phillips called to go over a few things. He liked to keep me informed, make me feel like I was involved in the case. He knew the case depended on me and he needed me to stay interested. Oh, hey, he said when we were wrapping up. Silverman and Morris checked out that sexual harassment angle. Oh? Yeah, they talked to this guy in Human Resources over there at, umm Exly. Was it Eric Montgomery? Yeah, Montgomery, thats it. Anyway, he didnt know anything about sexual harassment. They said he seemed surprised they brought it up. What? I didnt know what to make of his blithe statement. He even let them check through your personnel files, and there wasnt anything. Hell, they say he sounded like he was real sorry youd left. Anyway, so thats one less thing to worry about at trial. I numbly agreed, but as soon as Id hung up with Phillips I called Gary Parker. Get this Montgomery now is saying there werent any sexual harassment charges.
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That got his attention. What? I repeated the story Phillips had told me. Very interesting, Gary said when I was done. I could practically hear the wheels churning inside his head. Very interesting. Ill have to think about this one. As soon as Gary and I finished talking I called Callie, my head still spinning. Brooke wasnt filing a sexual harassment case against me, I blurted out by way of greeting. Well, of course she wasnt, she agreed. Why would you think she was? Thats how they forced me to resign. The guy from HR said it was resign or face a lawsuit. Youre kidding, Callie said, clearly surprised. We compared notes on what we thought we knew about the story. Brooke had told her about what Id said, but she passed it off as just an innocent or, at worse, mildly flirtatious remark. When she heard Id resigned she was shocked, and when it later filtered back to her that it had been about her she had been appalled. If she never told anyone about what Id said, I mean, apart from you, how did Montgomery get a hold of it? Well, she did tell a couple people, but kind of like she told me, like a story, not a complaint. She didnt ever intend that anyone do anything about it; she didnt want anyone to do anything about it. But she figured someone must have repeated it to someone they shouldnt have, and this guy from HR heard about it.
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Well, Ill be damned. I couldnt believe Id been so wrong all this time or that Id let Montgomery swindle me about of my career. I was happy at AMK, but Id have wished it had been my choice to change jobs, not be ignominiously booted out like I had been. She felt so bad, Callie told me in a low tone of voice. She was too embarrassed to tell you, but if shed known what theyd done shed have helped out. I had thought she didnt want to see me because of something terrible she thought I had done to her, when in fact she hadnt wanted to see me because she felt guilty about her role in what had happened to me. We were at cross-purposes, not opposing each other but not realizing it. Even Callie, in the middle of the two of us, hadnt realized the depths of how wrong we had been about the other. It would have been comical if it hadnt been so tragic. I thought again of the times Id wished her harm, and was so grateful I hadnt had a chance to do anything really stupid.
Chapter 30 The next several weeks should have been good ones, as I got used to a more normal life again. I was back in the civilized world. I had a good job, one that kept me pretty busy. I was learning a lot and meeting a lot of people, most of whom I liked. I hadnt quite gotten used to being out of town so much, but it seemed like something I could manage. Every so often I met an interesting person on the plane or at my hotel, as I came to understand that there was a whole world of modern day gypsies like myself whose lives revolved around being places other than the address on their drivers license. They all had their own stories and often didnt mind sharing them. I wondered if they edited their past like I had learned to edit mine, leaving out the parts about Kathryn leaving me or Exly firing me. Most of my old friends had gone by the wayside, it seemed, but between Ray and Callie I didnt mind so much, the age and other differences notwithstanding. I didnt get to see
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either of them very often, but I was happy when I got the chance. They were people that I could see a future with. It would be a different kind of friendship than Id had with my neighbors or coworkers in my old life, but that didnt bother me. They would stick with me. Kathryn remained on my mind, of course. Only now my doubts had expanded to her sexuality. It wasnt her being gay that bothered me, not so much. Gay people had never really bothered me, not that I knew too many openly gay people. Bridget had a few gay friends, male and female, and I had always tried to accept them just like all her other friends. But my wife? When had she discovered this attraction to women? Had it always been there, and shed suppressed it as long as she could? Or had she, in fact, acted upon it during our marriage? Were some of those fund raising dinners something else altogether? Any way I looked at it, it added to the list of signals missed, early warnings I might have noticed sooner and, perhaps, just perhaps, been able to do something about. I couldnt really imagine the thought of my wife with another woman, but, in some way, it was less objectionable than trying to picture her with another man. My efforts to avoid the neurologist ultimately failed, as I knew they would. I called him back at his office one night at ten, expecting to leave a voice mail, as usual, and was shocked to actually get him. Mr. Sinclair, he said in a cautious voice. Youre a hard man to get a hold of. I almost hung up on him. Im sorry about that. Listen, we could have taken care of this weeks ago, he said. I could hear him flipping through some files. Yes, here it is. Give it to me straight. I steeled myself for the bad news. Would I have a week to live, or months? The only bright spot was that perhaps I wouldnt have to testify at the trial after all. They had my testimony on videotape anyway.
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Youre fine, Mr. Sinclair. It took a few seconds for his words to sink in. What? Youre fine. But what about all these tests?? I could practically hear him shrug, wanting to finish our call and let him get back to whatever else he was doing in his office late at night. The tests are negative. Ive been calling you for weeks trying to let you know. Thats good news? I asked cautiously, not prepared to believe him. Youre fine. What about all my headaches? You still having them? he asked, starting to get a little testy. No, not so much, I admitted, realizing that, in fact, they really had diminished. Then stop worrying about them. You were under a lot of stress, as I recall. They were just headaches. These things happen. I hung up both grateful and at a loss. Id spent so long anticipating my cruel demise that my clean bill of health came as quite a shock. I had grown attached to having a tragic secret, and to my stoic suffering. I had been so prepared to have a dramatic and welldeserved death that for days after the news I wasnt sure how to act. Now my little secret was gone. Choices started to have more consequences again; I was going to live to have
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to face them after all. Whether I deserved to live or not was besides the point; it looked like I was going to.
Once I had that unexpected good news, the big remaining thing left looming over my life in those weeks was the upcoming trial. It made me physically ill to think about testifying, and it got worse the closer to my testimony things got. Phillips tried to calm me down, and I kept hoping against hope that Russo would take a deal that would avert the need for me to face Russo and the court process. Ray didnt ever bring it up, not rubbing it in that hed urged me to not offer to be a witness, but the few times I tried to talk about it I could tell he still thought I was crazy and disapproved in some sense. I wasnt sure if I was disappointing him or if it was something entirely different. Callie was my real support, even more than Phillips and the police. She was resolute that I was doing the right thing. Every time I talked to her or saw her she told me to hang in there, to stay strong, that I was doing the right thing and that she was proud of me. If it wasnt for her I dont know that I could have dealt with it. So the night before I was finally slated to testify I had dinner with her. Phillips had told me the trial was going much quicker than expected, largely because Russos lawyer had continued to be very passive. As with my deposition, they rarely asked too many questions, and had barely challenged the evidence. They had gotten the crime technicians to admit that there was no telling how old the fingerprints from Russo on my mobile phone were, or the urine in the alley, but -- with my forthcoming testimony to pinpoint the origin of each -- such cross-examination appeared to be a futile effort at best. During most of the dinner we avoided the topic of the trial, like the proverbial elephant in the room that no one dares mention, but over dessert and coffee she finally brought it up. So Russos defense still looks like it was some guy who looked like me? Callie asked. I nodded. Hes got a couple of witness who are suppose to swear he was at that bar Micks the night the guy was killed. Phillips cant wait to get these guys on the stand.
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Apparently their records are just about as bad as Russos, so their testimony shouldnt carry too much weight. She grinned at me in that life-affirming smile that still gave me chills. Not like yours -you da man, eh? Something like that. I failed to get as much of a kick out of it as she did. You nervous? She seemed genuinely concerned. Yeah, I admitted, nervous just to talk about it. Why? I shrugged. I dont know. Part of it is just the whole thing about testifying you know, taking an oath, being in a court in front of all those people and all. Part of it is having Russo and those other guys in the room, no doubt shooting daggers at me while I try to talk. Ill be sitting there knowing they just want me dead. Youll be safe, Callie reassured me, putting a hand out over mine for comfort. And the rest? Im worried about what theyll bring up about me. You know, Kathryn leaving me, me losing my job who knows? Youve done nothing wrong, Callie insisted. But they could make it look like I did, I said. And I feel like I did. Callie studied me carefully. Whats really bothering you? she asked at last.
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Leave it to Callie to read me so well. I took a deep breath and looked at the table, aware of her hand but not able to meet her eyes. The rest of me is scared Ill screw it up, and it will be my fault when these bad guys are back on the street again. I dont want to do anything wrong. Callie squeezed my hand until I looked up. Youll do fine, Roger, she said with a sweet smile. You always do the right thing. Face it: youre just a good guy. You have to be kidding, I exclaimed. I dont know why you think Im such a good person. I was mystified by her good opinion of me. I know you think its just normal to be like you are, Callie said with a proud smile. Its not. I dropped her off outside her building. I badly wanted to spend the night with her, not for the sex but for the comfort, but after our unspoken turn to the platonic I no longer expected it. We sat in the car for a long moment. She was staring at me intently and I didnt quite know why. Youre doing a good thing, Roger, she said fondly. Dont worry about it. She leaned in and gave me a tender kiss on my cheek. It was a small kiss, but conveyed depths of feelings that touched me to the heart. I knew at that moment that if I asked her to, she would, indeed, let me spend the night. But I also knew without a doubt that it would be out of love, but not out of passion, and that Id be doing the wrong thing if I asked. So, against the screams of protest from the little boy and the teenager -- in me, I just said goodnight. Im proud of you, she told me after Id helped her into her chair on the sidewalk. I didnt know what to say, so I said nothing and simply watched her roll into her building. I drove home and tried to relax, giving up and going to bed shortly thereafter. I gradually drifted off into a restless sleep not too much later.
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Chapter 31 The phone woke me. At first I wasnt sure what it was the alarm, the doorbell, or a bad dream and it took me a couple seconds to realize it was my mobile phone. I staggered up as quickly as I could muster and picked it up. Hello? I croaked hesitantly, not entirely awake but realizing it was one in the morning and wondering why someone had called me on my mobile instead of my landline. I didnt recognize the number. Roger? It was Callies voice, but she sounded somehow tentative, not something I was used to hearing from her. Callie, whats wrong? I asked, thinking immediately that most people dont call so late unless something was wrong. A small part of my brain raised the possibility that she had changed her mind and was going to ask me to come over, but I did my best not to get any hopes up. I heard some commotion on the other end of the line. Well, if it isnt Mr. Sinclair himself, a strange voice said, most definitely not Callies and not sounding too friendly despite the friendly veneer. Youre a hard man to get to talk to. It was only then that I recognized the voice. I began to feel some panic. It was the one person in the world that I least expected to hear from, and the one person in the world that I least wanted to hear from. It was Russos voice. What do you want? Youre in jail! He laughed. Good, so you know who I am. Well, Im not in jail tonight, and I want to talk to you. In person. Youre insane.
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Maybe so, but Im sitting here with your girlfriend and figured maybe you would want to be here too. Shes not my girlfriend, I protested automatically, while my brain was furiously trying to understand how it came that he wasnt in jail and that he had Callie with him. Getting a phone call from Russo was bad enough. Finding out he was somehow out of jail and on the loose was terrifyingly unexpected. And him having Callie as a captive I shuddered at the thought of it. Leave her out of this. I dont think so, he sneered at me. You better not hurt her, I warned him with as much menace as I could offer, although even I knew it came off pretty weak. I couldnt see how I could make good on any threats I might make towards him, but I felt compelled to try to protect Callie. Right now thats kind of up to you, Ro-ger, he said, pronouncing my name with elaborate emphasis that indicated his disgust at even the sound of it. Shes fine so far, but its up to you whether she stays like that or not. What do you want? I asked, deeply suspicious. I told you. I just want to talk. So talk. Not so fast, hot shot. It has to be in person. Tonight. Right now. I was silent for a moment, knowing this was a bad idea. What about Callie? Will you let her go if I come?
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He laughed, and it was undoubtedly the cruelest laugh Id ever heard. Just a second, man he said casually, then I heard him say something. I couldnt make out the words, but the next sound I heard, though, was quite distinct: a loud slap and a subsequent gasp that I knew was from Callie. Then Russo got back on the phone. Get the idea? If I say come here to talk to me, you just ask where and when, and shut the fuck up about anything else. Got it? Got it, I repeated numbly. He instructed me to come to Micks, and warned me not to call the police or anyone else. Just you, Sinclair. If I even see another car on the road I might just cut her throat and well be out of here before anyone would know we were here. So it better just be you. Going there would be a bad, bad mistake. I had no doubt of it. The only way I wanted to see Russo was in the court, surrounded by the comforting presence of the judicial system and lots of armed guards. But the thought of Callie stuck there alone with Russo and his crew was infinitely worse than the thought of hanging up on him. Ill be there, I promised, feeling the futility of it. Just dont hurt her.
I knew I couldnt call the police; I believed him when he warned me not to get anyone else involved. But I also knew I was in way over my head. So as I rapidly got dressed I called the only person I knew who might be able to help me. Ray, its me. I need your help. Roger? he answered, not at all groggy and not sounding all that surprised to be getting a call so late at night. Then again, Im not sure I would know what surprise sounded like from him. Whats up? As quickly as I could I outlined what had transpired. He was silent through my brief recap. I dont know what I was thinking, other than if I had to go to a place like Micks
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to meet someone like Russo, Ray was the person Id want my by side. Where are you now? he asked calmly when I had finished, or at least had run out of words. By this time I was dressed and out the door. Im getting into my car to go to Micks. I turned on the ignition and gunned out of the parking lot, speeding as fast I as I could, even blasting through red lights when there werent any other cars coming. Fortunately there werent many cars out. I was half hoping and half fearing that Id attract the attention of a traffic cop, figuring either way it would take the decision out of my hands. Did you call the police? No they said theyll kill her and I believe them. There was a brief silence on the other end. So do I, he admittedly softly. He might have sighed. Roger, turn your car around. What? I was incredulous. My car was headed on a straight line between my apartment and Callies neighborhood, and the thought of changing direction seemed impossible. Go home. He sounded infinitely sad and infinitely tired. Theres nothing you can do. Go home? I cant do that. I cant just let them hurt Callie. Then call the police and let the chips fall where they will. You cant save her. All youll be doing by going there is making sure both of you die. So go home, try to sleep and forget about it. Pretend it was all just a bad dream. I couldnt believe my ears. I couldnt bear the thought of Callie suffering, or of me being the cause of it, directly or indirectly. And I sure as hell couldnt just turn around and go back to sleep. I cant do that, Ray.
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He exhaled softly. I know. Im sorry about it but I knew youd say that. He paused for a second. My heart was pounding and what I wanted more than anything was to hear him say hed come with me. But it was not to be. Theres nothing I can do to help you, Roger, he said softly. Youre on your own. He sounded very sad about it. Sad but definite. I felt like a small boy whose father had just abandoned him, left him alone and helpless in the big world. Except I was old enough to be Rays father, not the other way around. I knew he didnt owe me this. He had made it clear that that he didnt get involved in other peoples business. Prison had hardened him, and just because theyd let him out of that building they hadnt let him out of his hardened shell. Id let myself believe that he and I had connected on some more fundamental level, but Id been wrong. Id been wrong, and Id been wrong to think that he owed me anything. And he especially didnt owe Callie anything, certainly not his life. I know, Ray, I said with as much dignity as I could. Im sorry I called. Take your own advice and go back to bed. Ill be OK. There was a long pause on the other end. Take care of yourself, Roger, he said at last. I was on my own. As luck would have it, at that moment I got off the highway and had to stop at the end of the exit ramp. A right turn would take me to my destination, while a left turn would take me back to the highway and to my apartment. I was literally at a crossroads. Usually when your life is at a crossroads you dont really know it at the time. For example, the time when Gary had encouraged me to fool around had been a crossroads. Id had a choice to listen or not to listen. Id chosen the wrong path and it had, one way or another, ended me up sitting at this stop light late at night, on my way to a meeting with a cold-blooded killer. This time, though, I knew I had a choice to make. My own instincts told me that there was nothing I could do to help. My rational brain told me
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going there was a fools errand. The one person I had asked for advice confirmed that opinion. Going to Micks meant almost certain death. I was under no illusion that I could either overpower Russo or convince him to let us go. The best case scenario absolute best case scenario called for me getting killed but somehow managing to convince Russo to let Callie go. I was not too optimistic about the odds of that. Or I could simply go home. I wanted to live. I wanted to see Bridget get married and have kids. I wanted to play with my grandchildren. I wanted to watch them grow up to be the fine young people I knew theyd be, just like their mom. Going to Micks to try to save Callie would mean giving up all that. Id never experience any of those joys. Id never even have a comfortable retirement. My life would be over. I thought Id been at a crossroads with my headaches, thinking I was going to die, but Id gotten relief from that sentence before it had ever been actually passed. Id never really faced death so directly. Id fooled myself into worrying about dying from whatever had been causing my headaches. Id taken simple headaches and let myself turn them into a fantasy that I was dying. But I never really was at risk, and I had never really had to face the dying part. I used to think about how sorry people would be once Id died, and I had pictured lots of scenes of me in the hospital surrounded by all the people who suddenly realized how much they cared for me. Maybe even Kathryn, if only to say she was sorry. But Id never really pictured the suffering. Not the pain getting worse, not the indignity of losing my hair or throwing up due to radiation or chemo treatments. It had all been a kind of idealized experience, not real in any meaningful sense of the word. I hadnt been brave; Id been a coward, hiding behind my supposed illness as an excuse to not live for the future. This was different, and it was scarier than anything Id feared about tumors or brain disorder or all the other fears Id been worrying about. Id seen how Russo killed people. This was for real, and it wasnt in some possible future. It was waiting for me at Micks, as certain as the sun in the morning. A sun I might never see again.
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I should just turn around and go home. I could call the police and let them handle it, even though that in itself would probably doom Callie as well. I could do my duty and not risk my own life at the same time. That was the smart thing to do, the only thing that made any sense. The light turned green and still I sat, feeling an almost physical sensation of the comfort of the years ahead and the weight of those grandkids sitting on my knee. Then I thought about the kind of person I wanted them to be and wanted them to think I was. They would never need to know about this moment, about the hard choices I was faced with, but I always would. If this was, indeed, a crossroads, I still didnt really have a choice. I turned right just as the light turned to red.
Chapter 32 Micks was as dingy and dismal as I might have expected. I stood for a moment once inside the door, letting my eyes adjust to the dull light. Perhaps at some point it had been a nice place, a quaint place. If so, that had been in the distant past, because it was just a plain run-down place now. The wooden fixtures appeared dulled and dirty, the grime and dust not successfully covering the array of initials and other graffiti carved on them over the years. The floors were tiled with cheap linoleum, whose original color was impossible to determine. It was unclear to me if it had ever been washed; the patterns on it appeared to be organic, a collection of everything that have ever been dropped, spilled, spat, or vomited on it over the many years. I could make out the larger room, with a long bar and several cheap tables, as well as doorways to what I assumed were back rooms. I could see a pool table in one of them. And, sitting at a couple of the tables, were Russo, the other two guys from the trial and Callie. Well, look what the cat dragged in, Russo said when he spotted me. His face seemed to brighten, while Callies expression sagged noticeably as she caught sight of me. Come on in. We were just getting ready to play pin the tail on the cripple, he
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snickered, nodding at Callie. The three of them laughed. Callie just looked at them stonily. Callie was not in her wheelchair, and a quick survey around the room didnt reveal it to me. She was in a regular chair, which meant she was basically immobile, unless she wanted to crawl across that disgusting floor. Are you all right? I asked her. Now she looked more angry than scared. She glared at Russo and his friends, whose names Phillips had previously informed me were Hector Munoz and Lorenzo Tate. Im fine so far, she told me with a resigned smile. Dont take this the wrong way, but I was kind of hoping you wouldnt come. Oh, there was never a chance of that, was there now, Sinclair? Russo said with a snide expression. His face grew serious. Sit down. We have a lot to talk about. I reluctantly came closer to where he was sitting, Munoz vacating his seat and moving behind Callie. I paused, not really wanting to sit, and Tate also stood, taking position between Russo and Callie. I looked at poor Callie, wanting to comfort her or at least touch her. She was practically surrounded by Munoz and Tate but was trying not to look intimidated. I turned my attention back to Russo. All right, Im here. Now let her go. Even I knew it wasnt going to be that easy. Not so fast. Russo seemed to be enjoying himself. Sit down. Want a drink? As you see, we closed the bar early in your honor. Drinks are on me. No thanks. What I want is for you to let her go, like you promised. Russo shook his head, now clearly enjoying himself. I never promised you anything. I dont make promises to you. I tell you what I want and you do it, remember?
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I studied him for clues about what he wanted. Finding none, I had to ask. If youre going to kill me, just do it. But shes not part of this. Leave her out of it. You got me here, OK? Im here. Now let her go. Kill you? Russo asked, pretending to be surprised at the notion. He put on his best sincere face, which wasnt very convincing. Im not going to kill you, Mr. Sinclair. In fact, Im your new best friend -- just like youre mine. I looked at him quizzically, trying not to let my hopes get up. Maybe Callie and I were going to live through this after all. How do you figure? He leaned forward on the table. Look, youre trying to put me back in jail. I dont want to go to jail. So we have ourselves a little -- ah, what do you call it? A dilemma. Yeah, I get it, I said, starting to get enough over my fright to be annoyed. So you kill me, I cant testify, and you walk away. Why does that make us best buddies? He put his hands flat on the table. Sure you dont want that drink? How about for your girlfriend here? He nodded towards Callie. Shes not my girlfriend, I said automatically. Russo just waved his hand to indicate his disbelief. No, I dont want to drink with you. How about you, Ms., um, what is it -- Haywood? he asked Callie. Ill drink a toast when youre dead or in jail, Callie said, cool as could be. Until then, no, Ill pass, thank you very much. He shrugged as though it were no matter and got up. He went over to the bar and reached across it to get a glass, which he filled with one of the beers on draft. He leaned his back against the bar. I noticed that Munoz had edged closer to Callie and was practically at
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her shoulder. Russo took a drink of his beer, and put the glass on the bar. His expression turned serious. Its like this. If I kill you, theyll just go looking for me first thing. Arent you supposed to be in jail? That should give you a pretty good alibi. He smiled at that, obviously very pleased with himself. Were in conference with our lawyer right now, if you really want to know. Pretty good alibi, right? I had to wonder where their lawyer was, picturing him tied up in his office while Russo did his business. Or perhaps the lawyer was in on Russos scam as well. That will hold up as long as no one looks into things too closely. If you die, though He let me draw my own conclusions. So what do you want from me? I challenged him. He regarded me indifferently for a few seconds, and I could as easily picture him deciding to kill me as deciding to have a drink with me. He had no regard for human life other than his own. If I had you killed, they would still try to use your testimony against me. They have you on videotape; they have your statement and all. So even if you were dead you could still convict me. That wont do. So what do you want? Callie broke in. Evidently she was kind of curious about what was going on too. He looked at her for a second, and I liked his look at her even less. She was an amusement for him, something to be used and discarded. It made me slightly ill to see him mentally undress her and do vile things to her. He finally looked back at me. We make a deal. I want you to testify. I wasnt quite expecting that. You want me to testify?
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He nodded, smiling that evil smile again. Yeah. Only this time you realize that you remembered things wrong. It wasnt me you saw, it was someone who looked a little like me. And it was some other time that I used your phone. You got confused; it could happen to anyone. I dont want to spell it out too much because I want it to sound like its your own words. I was astonished. Youre kidding. He shook his head, quite serious again. Oh, no, I aint kidding. It will never work, Callie said flatly. Theyd never believe it, I added. They know what I said before and it will be too much of a change to go back on it now. Russo picked up his drink and went back to his table. He sat down and took another drink. It doesnt matter. The jury hears your story the key police witness and I get off. They cant try me again. So you just do what I want and everyone comes out safe and sound. Its just business. No reason for anyone to get hurt. It actually almost sounded reasonable. Maybe it could actually work; maybe it offered a way to get both Callie and I out of this alive, although it meant Russo would go free. I thought about it. So you just needed her to get me here to hear your offer? Then let her go now. Russo smiled, or more accurately at least bared his teeth. Oh, I dont think so. I need her to stay until after you testify, just to make sure you keep your side of the bargain. Then I let her go and everyone is happy. He spread his arms to indicate our mutual future happiness.
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No deal, I said. Let her go and Ill do what you want. I hated letting him win. I hated the fact that he could get off for a murder Id seen him commit. I hated the fact that he might go free. But in that moment I realized I sure as hell was not going to leave Callie here with him and his fellow thugs. Russo pretended to look like he was sorry for my stupidity. Youre not in a place to bargain, Sinclair. You said you need my testimony, I told him, trying to sound confident. Well, the only way you get it is if you let her go now. Russo seemed to be thinking about my proposal, and I felt my hopes rise. Then, with a gesture so small that I almost missed it, he nodded at Munoz. He immediately stepped forward and put an arm tightly around her neck, shutting off her air supply. She put her hands on his arm and tried to pull them away, in a desperate effort to relieve the pressure, but it was to no avail. I moved towards her, only to have Tate step between Callie and me. No visible marks, remember, Lorenzo? Russo told him in a mild voice. I didnt understand what he meant until Tate reached me and hit me in the stomach. I doubled over and remembered our previous encounter, which had gone pretty much the same way. On my knees, I looked over helplessly at Callie, who was struggling futilely against her assailant. Enough, I choked out. Leave her alone. Munoz looked over at Russo, who just watched me. Please? I implored, feeling utterly humiliated and helpless. At long last he nodded again at Munoz, who released Callie but remained close by her. She took great gasping breaths of air that tore me up. Get the picture now, Mr. Sinclair? Russo asked pleasantly. Still want to bargain?
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I climbed to my feet. I was beyond fear now and just plain angry. Youre an asshole, Russo. Killing defenseless men, holding innocent women hostage. Why dont you and I settle it, just you and me? Leave her out of it, leave them out of it. I clenched my fists. Russo settled back in his seat, seeming highly amused. Im busy now, Sinclair. Why dont you take it up with my friend Lorenzo? Tate took a swing at me, but this time I wasnt caught off guard. I jumped out of the way and his punch missed me by inches. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Russo smile. So Mr. Sinclair wants to make a fight out of it. OK, Lorenzo, show him how out-classed he is. Just remember not to hit him anyplace that will be visible when he testifies for me tomorrow. If he hadnt sounded so smug about the outcome I might have faltered, but instead it caused me to swing out wildly in fury. This time Tate had to jump back. You want to fight, old man? he taunted me, swinging his right hand. I circled off to his left, only to be surprised when he lashed out with a short left jab to my chest. It almost stopped my breathing, and he took advantage of my indecision to move in closer and hit me with several quick, hard punches to my mid-section. Before I knew it I was back on the ground, sprawled on all fours. Had enough, Sinclair? Russo taunted me from his seat. Taking my silence for stubbornness, he spoke to Tate. Convince him a little more. I was not as whipped as they thought. When Tate moved in closer and swung his leg to kick me in the stomach, I caught his foot and clutched it to my chest. Before he could react I drove up with my legs, pushing with all my might, and lifted him into the air. His body rose in a short but satisfying arc before descending to the floor. His head collided with the edge of a table on the way down with a satisfying but sickening thud. After that, he didnt move.
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It took us all a second to realize that he wasnt going to move; he was out cold. I could see he was still breathing but the extreme looseness of his body showed he was unconscious. Russo rose to his feet and I turned to face him, my back to the bar. OK, it was a fluke. I knew it was a fluke; everyone here knew it was a fluke. But the fact of the matter was that he was down and I was the one standing. It was probably the first fight Id had since fourth grade and maybe the first fight Id actually won and it felt great. I felt a sudden rush of testosterone. I knew at that moment what men since the caveman era had known -- the thrill of besting an opponent in the course of defending what was yours. Callie might not have been my woman, but she was part of what was mine. I was damned if I was going to stand by and let Russo or his like hurt her. I stared triumphantly at Russo. How about that? You want some of this? I looked over at Munoz. How about you? You next? He looked over quickly at Russo for guidance. I saw Callie was looking at me in a new way as well, but whether it was pride, concern for my well-being, or something else altogether, I wasnt sure. My blood was up and I spoke before I realized that my basic situation hadnt changed. As long as they had Callie they were in the position to tell me what to do. Munoz put his arm around Callies neck again to illustrate the point, although he wasnt actually choking her yet. Russo looked at me with narrowed eyes, clearly angry. You son of a bitch. You think this changes anything? Ill cut her up while you watch, and youll be begging me to do what I want. Youll be sorry you didnt just go along with me when I was being nice to you. In for a dime, in for a dollar, I figured recklessly. All Russo respected was toughness. Maybe not. Ill beat your buddy up too and then well see how tough you are. First youd have to take me out, he said menacingly. That aint going to be so easy.
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Yeah, ask Tate about it, I retorted. The look on his face changed, indefinably at first but clearly becoming more reserved. He looked at me with something close to respect, or at least wariness, and for the first time since hed called I began to feel like I had a little control. I looked over at Callie in triumph, only to notice that both she and Munoz had strange expressions on their faces as well. Munoz actually backed away slightly from her. I turned back to Russo, and realized that he wasnt looking at me at all, but at something behind me, at the bar. Afraid he had another friend with him, I quickly turned, and my mouth dropped in surprise. Well, if it isnt Ray Satterfield himself, Russo said in an even voice from behind me. What brings you here?
Chapter 33 I was as surprised as anyone. No, I take that back. I was probably more surprised than anyone else. Id talked to Ray and heard for myself that him helping me out was not going to be an option. Despite that, now Ray stood there behind the bar with his usual reserved expression, looking not at all surprised to find such an odd array of people at Micks. He slowly surveyed the room before responding to Russo. I came by to pick up a few things. I didnt expect the place to be closed. Russo pretended to smile. Well, you can buy me a drink or serve me a drink, but otherwise get the fuck out of here. Ray didnt seem in a hurry to do anything. He nodded and me. Hey, Roger. Numbly, I nodded back, as if we were in Brewed Heaven or some other, more normal situation. He also nodded his greetings towards Callie and her captor, not showing any surprise at
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her evident captivity. Russo grew impatient. Get out, Satterfield. Weve got some business here and youre not included. Ray stared at Russo for a moment, taking his measure. What kind of business is that, Russo? None of yours, thats for damn sure. I was talking to Mr. Sinclair here. It doesnt concern you. Yeah, I caught some of your discussions. You know, the part where Roger took out your boy there. Ray had the smallest of smiles on his face. Russo glanced over at the still motionless body of his friend Tate. It was luck, thats all. He didnt even hit him. The poor fucker hit his head on the way down. Yeah, but the point is, he went down. Anyway, Ill take lucky any day. How lucky are you feeling, Amos? His words were taunting but his tone was as calm as could be. Russos eyes narrowed at the provocation. This dont concern you. I told you already. Now get out of here before I get mad and do something about it. Unconsciously I moved to get out of their way, moving to one side so I could watch the two of them and Callie at the same time. They didnt pay me any attention but as soon as Id done it I cursed myself for not taking the opportunity to have moved closer to Callie. Instead, Id just placed additional distance between myself and her. Ray didnt seem ruffled by Russos warning, but he did put his hands on the bar and look around the room again. His gaze came back to Russo. Ill go when Im ready. It sounded final, like he wasnt going to be pushed around. He and Russo matched stares, and I felt incidental. There was something going on between them that I wasnt part of; even Callie and Munoz werent included. Word on
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you is that you mind your own business, man, Russo remarked. I thought back to Rays prison years and how he had to earn that word, as Russo so casually put it, and it made me almost as sad as the fact that Id brought him into this whole mess. Russo stared intimidatingly at Ray. So mind your own business. Ray didnt seem impressed. This is my business. I just came by to pick up some stuff but Im leaving here with Sinclair. Russo looked over at me, thinking quickly. To my surprise, he flashed a sudden smile. He turned back to Ray with his hands out in a gesture of reconciliation. OK, yeah. Mr. Sinclair and I have finished our business. I think he knows what he has to do now. Take him and get out of here. Both of them looked over at me expectantly. I tried to ignore similar looks from Callie and Munoz. I could just walk out of here, escape this madness. I stared at Russo for just a second, knowing what he intended and trying to figure out what my limits were. It didnt take long. As relieved as I was that Ray had showed up and was trying to get me out safely, I knew I couldnt leave it at that. It made me sick to my stomach, but I looked at Ray. Not without Callie. Rays face didnt change, but Russos did. No, no, no. Not so fast. He was shaking his head. I need her here so until Sinclair finishes his part of the bargain. She stays. His tone was emphatic. Both Russo and Ray looked back at me again, and the pressure was intense. I couldnt look at them, so I looked at Callie. She still looked brave frightened but controlling it, not losing her composure. You should go, Roger, she told me, looking me straight in the eyes. Her tone was calm but wearily resigned. Save yourself, save Ray. Russos bluffing. Then I saw Munoz edge closer to her, and I did not like the look on his face. I glanced back at Russo and knew not only what he was capable of but also what he was
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likely to do once I left. He wasnt bluffing. I didnt have a choice. I turned back to Ray. Not without Callie. He didnt react, just studied me to make sure I meant it. Russo saw that Ray wasnt just rejecting my comment out of hand, and tried to influence him. She stays, he said gruffly. You and Sinclair can go, but she stays. Ray just looked at him. The room grew silent as we all waited to hear what he would say next. I knew what I wanted him to do but I really wasnt at all sure what he would do. By all rights, he shouldnt have been here in the first place, yet here he was. But how much risk could I really expect him to put himself in? Russo was offering him a way to leave with some dignity, and get me out alive as well. It was the devils bargain indeed. Time seemed to stretch out indefinitely. Then Ray made his decision, although you couldnt tell from his face that it had been much of a decision at all. She comes with us. His voice was soft, as if he was resigned to what the implications of his words were going to be. Russo stared at him incredulously. He looked over at Munoz with a look of amazement on his face. Do you believe this guy? Do you believe the fucking nerve of this guy? I offer him and Sinclair a walk and instead theyre making demands. If that dont beat all. He grew intensely serious and looked back at Ray. She stays. End of story. She comes with us. Ray sounded like a father patiently negotiating with a troublesome five year old. This is not your business. I need her here so this guy-- he pointed at me doesnt put me back in prison. If I go back I go back for a long time. Im not going back. Ill do what it takes, whatever it takes, to not go back. And I need her to stay to make sure of that. His eyes burned with intensity, reflecting his will not to go back to prison.
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If you dont want to go back inside, Amos, Ray said in a patient tone, maybe you shouldnt go around killing people. Yeah, and if you dont want your parole revoked maybe you shouldnt be working in a bar with known felons, Ray, he sneered. Youre no saint here. You know exactly what Im talking about. You dont want to go back any more than I do, so dont fuck around with me. Ray nodded, and it was a weary acknowledgement that hed heard it all, seen it all before. That may be true, Amos, but Im still leaving here with him. And, if he wants her to come, then with her too. I could see that Russo wasnt going to concede anything. But I could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he opted for another course of action. He relaxed and again put on the phony smile. You know, Ray, we got off on the wrong foot here, he said, friendly as could be. He started to move closer to Ray, putting a hand out in greeting. It didnt even occur to me to notice that it was only one hand. Lets just talk, just the two of us. I bet we can work this out. My heart raced as I tried to think what kind of deal Russo might try to offer Ray, and how Ray might respond. Maybe Russo had something on Ray that he could use to make him leave. He advanced a few feet before Ray spoke. Thats far enough. Russo stopped but kept the snakes smile on his face. What? he asked innocently. Ray shook his head. You think Ive been out of prison so long that I cant tell when someone is coming at me with a shiv, Amos? His voice was mild and he sounded more amused than concerned. I was startled. I was only a few feet from Russo and I hadnt noticed him holding a knife. Looking more closely, though, I saw that his right hand was pressed against his thigh, and
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had something in it. Russo smirked for a moment, then brought his hand up. It did, indeed, have a knife in it. Not a Swiss Army knife, not a kitchen knife, not anything you just pick up casually. It was a dark curved blade that looked designed for one thing and one thing only: killing people. You can play with them if you want but dont try it with me, Ray said. I know what you are. OK, Ray, if thats the way you want to play it, Russo said, the smirk still there. I gave you a chance. Ill tell you what: you walk away right now, forget you were here, and Ill let you go. No hard feelings. But you got to leave now, or Im going to gut you like a fish. Jesus Christ, I muttered inadvertently. Russo looked over at me with amusement. Jesus Christ doesnt have anything to do with it. You should go, Ray, I said, not able to keep my eyes off the knife. Hes going to kill you. Hes going to kill us all. You heard him, Ray, Russo agreed. You should go before I kill you. Run. Ray looked over at me, unconcerned. Ill leave, but Im leaving with you and the lady. Russo had closed to within a few feet of Ray, but the bar was still in his way. He was either going to have to go around the bar, or go over it. You cant win, Satterfield. Its just you against us. Funny. I count it three against three, and Mr. Sinclairs already taken out one of your three. He nodded his head towards the unconscious Tate. Looks to me like hes not
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going to be much good to you. I bet the lady here can take that dumb-ass Munoz behind her, too. Russo shook his head. I dont think so. And Sinclair putting down Tate was dumb luck. Neither of them will be any help to you. Besides, I dont need any help with you. He flicked the knife to illustrate his deadliness. You should have left when you had a chance. Maybe if you run right now you can get out before I catch you. Ray studied him, a hunter facing a hungry lion. I thought for a second that he was thinking about it, that he might regain his senses and flee with his life rather than risking it for Callie and me. He sighed, and took his hands from the bar in an apparent concession of defeat. Then he quickly snapped out a shotgun from under the bar, pumping a shell into the chamber as he pointed it towards Russo. Russo stopped cold. He looked at me, then over at the man behind Callie before turning back to Ray. We are all equally astonished. Kind of changes things, doesnt it, Amos? Ray asked softly, holding the gun like he knew how to use it. Oh, and if youre waiting for your friend outside, your lookout well, hes not going to be joining us. Russos eyes narrowed at this. He nodded his head at Munoz, who quickly stepped forward and whipped out a knife, putting it to Callies throat. Put down the gun or hell kill her. Munoz pressed the knife hard against Callies throat, the point digging into her flesh. I could see a drop of blood form and start to roll down her beautiful skin, and I gasped. Russo grunted n satisfaction. Yeah, thats right. You heard me: put the gun down or hell kill her. Put it down now.
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Ray seemed momentarily indecisive. He swung the gun briefly at Munoz, then back to Russo. So kill her. She doesnt mean anything to me. His voice was dead calm and emotionless. He swung the gun back at Munoz for just a second. And if you think you can kill her and get to me before I put him down and have time to get you, youre sadly mistaken. His gun closed its aim back on Russo. My mouth gaped in horror at his callousness towards Callie, and I saw her eyes open wide in panic at the same time. But I also saw the uncertainty in Munozs look towards Russo. Russo was calculating the situation, gauging how far everyone was from everyone and what his options were. He locked eyes with Ray for a long couple of seconds, then seemed to relax. Callie and I both probably started breathing again just about then. You dont get it, do you, Ray? Get what? See, I need him, and I need her to control him. But I dont need you. If I was you Id be a lot less concerned about them and a lot more concerned about myself. I think you dont get it. Rock beats scissors. He raised the shotgun slightly. What? Guns beat knives, or didnt they teach you that in reform school, Amos? Russo seemed nonplussed for a second, then laughed. Hell, Satterfield, Russo said. Youre not going to shoot me. Im not? Fuck, no. You shoot me and youre revoked right back to hell. You dont want to go back there any more than I do. Put the gun down and lets work something out.
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If he kills you it will be justifiable, I said, surprising both of them. I was kind of surprised myself. They wont send him back to prison for saving our lives. Russo looked at me just briefly, pretending to be amazed. It dont matter why, old man. He gets involved shooting someone in a bar, theyll lock him up quicker than you can spit. He grinned evilly at Ray. Aint that right, Ray? He advanced a step. Shoot him! Callie gasped out, which caused Munoz to press the knife tighter. Shut up, bitch, he growled. She looked angry, but she quieted down. See, you probably figure you can take this knife away from me, Russo said in a cold voice. He started edging slowly towards Ray. You take it away from me and you could pretend none of this happened, go back to your boring fucking life. You go shooting me, though, and, boy, the police will be all over you. Youll be back inside before your head stops spinning. So stop screwing around and put the gun down. Id heard of snakes lulling their victim into not moving while they got close enough to strike, but this was the first time Id really witnessed that kind of hypnotic effect for myself. It was scary. Russo just kept getting closer and closer. I wanted Ray to do something, to shoot Russo and be done with it, but Russo kept moving closer without a response from Ray. Ray seemed to not know what to do. I could see the gun waiver in the air. I knew he didnt want to go back to jail. He had even more to lose than Russo, and look how strongly Russo was taking his return prospects. Russo moved ever closer to Ray, starting to edge around the bar. See, Ray, you just dont have the heart to just shoot somebody, his voice was calm, almost like he was teaching a lesson to a pupil. Oh, I hear you defend yourself pretty well, but theres a difference between that and shooting someone. Put the gun down and lets you and me fight it out. Here, if it will make you feel better Ill put the knife down.
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Yeah, Im sure you will, Ray answered dryly. Or perhaps his throat was just tight. Well, maybe I will and maybe I wont, Russo admitted. Wed have to see how it goes. He was only a few feet from Ray now, and looked like he might lunge at any moment. He seemed to be enjoying the situation, with his conversation simply serving as a distraction. I felt I should say something, but for the life of me nothing came to mind. I glanced quickly at Callie and Munoz, and saw they were equally riveted, all of us knowing things were going to change dramatically very soon. See, Russo continued. Id have just shot if I had that gun. Well, Id never had even come here in the first place, you soft touch. Youre a tough guy but youre not hard, Satterfield. He sounded almost sorry for Ray. Thats the difference between me and you. I do what it takes. He was very close to Ray now, free of the bar. There was nothing to prevent him from reaching forward and stabbing or slashing Ray at any moment. Ray continued to track Russo with the gun but all of a sudden I was no longer sure he could, in fact, shoot him. My heart fell with the certain knowledge that Russo was going to win, that we were all dead. Ray held fast, then seemed to give in. He lowered the gun a few inches, and I saw Russos eyes widen in expectation of victory. Thats not the difference between you and me, Russo, he told Russo quietly, his face both gentle and sad at the same time. Russos face was already showing his arrogance at his victory over Ray, and I lost all hope of surviving this. No? He didnt really seem interested in whatever Ray had to say. No, he said, shaking his head just slightly. The difference is Im walking out of here alive. With that he raised the gun and pulled the trigger.
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Try as I might after the fact, I could never separate the sounds: the explosion of the bullet, the solid thump of it hitting Russo, and the sickening splat as the round tore his upper body messily apart. It hit him at almost point-blank range and literally blew him back several feet. Before Russo had even landed Ray had racked another shell into the chamber and pointed it at Munoz. Ray moved slowly from around the bar. Now, Hector, you got two options. You can try to be a bad guy and cut her throat. If you do, youll be dead before shes finished bleeding. Ray stopped by Russos unmoving body. He glanced quickly down at the bloody mess, then looked back at Munoz. He kicked Russos knife away from his open hand and moved closer to the other man. Or you can drop the knife and run. Ill give you a head start a fair chance. And you have three seconds to decide. It didnt take Munoz three seconds, or even two. He immediately dropped the knife and lit out fast, not even looking back at his fallen comrades. Ray tracked him with the barrel of the shotgun until he was out of the bar, then put the barrel down. He looked at me. You OK? It was a surprise to me, but I was still alive and breathing. I guess so. What about you, maam? Callie slowly put a hand to her throat and touched the place where the knife had been. She came away with some blood on her fingers, and held out her hand to study it as though she was mystified how it came to be there. She looked around the room, first at Russos dead body and then at Tates breathing but dead-to-the-world body. I guess so too. Ray seemed to sag in some indefinable way, and he moved over to the bar to sit on one of the stools. He put the shotgun on the bar very carefully, looking at it with an expression Id never seen before. It was the look Adam might have given the serpent once hed realized what the snake had cost him. His eyes and his face told a story that I did not
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have the language for, full of infinite sadness and loss. It broke my heart to think of all he had given up on my behalf, and part of me cursed myself for having brought him into this. The rest of me was too relieved to still be alive to feel such empathy. What now? I said at last. Ray looked over at me and tried to smile, succeeding only in making him look sadder than ever. Now I guess we call the police.
Chapter 34 I called 911, told them there had been a murder and where we were. It struck me as ironic that Id gone my entire life without calling the police, and now Id witnessed and reported two murders in a matter of weeks. The very words sounded ludicrous coming from my mouth, but it seemed even stranger to me how matter-of-factly the operator took such news. She asked if I was OK and told me they were on their way. Then I called Phillips at the home number hed given me. I woke him up, of course, and he didnt seem too happy about it. What the hell do you want? he growled, not entirely awake. I told him that Russo was dead and Tate unconscious. Come again? he asked, fully awake. I repeated what Id told him, and told him that Id already called 911. He was quiet a second, asked me where we were. He told me hed get there in twenty minutes, and cautioned me not to say anything to anyone until he got there. Although Tate still wasnt moving, Callie suggested we further immobilize him. I started to take off my belt, but Callie suggested I look for some duct tape instead, which I eventually found under the bar. I wrapped it around Tates wrists and ankles, and finally felt more at ease, even though he barely stirred at all even when I was moving him around. Callie told me where her wheelchair was, so I got that and settled her into it. You sure youre all right? I asked her, finally getting a chance to take everything in.
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She looked pale and shaken, but tried to give me a brave smile. Its a bit much to get used to. She looked over at Russos dead body. It looked even worse now that it had right after hed been shot, now that the dark blood was congealing everywhere. She gave a little shudder. Ray stayed quiet throughout all this. He worried me. He was always quiet, but now he seemed distant in a way that scared me. He still sat at the bar, the shotgun resting a safe distance in front of him. He kept staring at it, his mind a million miles away from us. I was afraid for him, but even more afraid to ask him what he was thinking about. Thank you, Callie said to me. She looked over at Ray. Thank you both. I dont know how to thank you enough. It was my fault you were here, I told her, feeling horrible about it. He was using you to get to me. He was crazy, she said, as though trying to reassure herself. It wasnt your fault. It made me feel a little better not much, but a little. I looked over at Ray and tried to get his attention. I thought you werent coming, I said, trying to make my tone of voice as light as I could, but I didnt think I succeeded very well. It took a second for him to realize I was talking to him, and another for the words to sink in. He attempted a wan smile. Oh, I was up anyway. How long were you here before you came in? He still didnt look at me. Long enough. I couldnt keep up the light tone. His coming to help me meant a lot to me. You didnt have to come.
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Now he looked over at me for a long while, his face expressionless. I knew youd come. I wasnt too sure myself. How could you have known? He looked at Callie, who had been listening to our exchange with great fascination. Did you doubt hed come? She was surprised by his question, and looked at me. She was very serious, then smiled, relief evident on her face. No, not at all. I hoped he wouldnt, because I knew what these people were like, but I knew he would. Her face showed the strain shed been through, but also her pride in me. It warmed my heart. Ray nodded. He looked at me. You knew Russo was a guy who burned people alive just for the hell of it, but you came anyway. That doesnt mean you had to come. Ray didnt reply, and before I could press him further a couple of patrolmen came through the door with their pistols aimed and ready. They didnt relax until they confirmed Russo was down and theyd moved the shotgun away from Ray, just in case. I explained who Russo and Tate were, but when they started asking us questions I remembered what Phillips had told me and I explained what he had told me. They didnt seem too happy about it but didnt press it. Within a couple of minutes more policemen entered, along with some paramedics. They quickly gauged Russos condition, then turned their attention to Tate. Soon some detectives arrived, and they were less agreeable to our self-imposed silence than the patrolmen had been. They asked us several questions before giving up. They moved us to a back room and stationed a lone patrolman at the door.
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Detective Morris arrived after about twenty minutes, clad in jeans and an unbuttoned shirt over a t-shirt. He looked in at us. Who are your friends, Sinclair? I introduced Callie and Ray, and I told him Phillips had told us not to answer any questions until he arrived. Morris told us that Phillips had already called him and would arrive soon, all the while him eying us with some annoyance for being the cause of his late night interruption. Sure enough, Phillips strode in about ten minutes later, with Silverman in tow. Despite the hour, Phillips appeared to have taken time to shave and put on a suit, looking like he was starting a normal day. He stuck his head in our room briefly, said hed be with us in a second, then went back out to talk to some of the policemen. He, Morris and Silverman formed a small circle, glancing at us periodically. What happens next? I asked somewhat rhetorically. They havent even interviewed us yet, Callie noted in surprise. They will, Ray assured us, sounding none too happy about it. So your coming was kind of a payback, Callie said out of the blue to Ray. He looked at her sharply, seeming more focused than he had been since the shooting. Hows that? I had no idea what she was getting out, and neither did Ray. He looked over at me for clues, then back at her. You know, for Roger helping you get into Franklin and all. I cursed myself for not realizing where she had been going with this. Callie-- I started, too late.
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Ray waved me off with a hand gesture. Really? he said to her, sounding intrigued. Callie looked at me uncertainly, and then back at Ray. You didnt know? He shook his head slowly, thinking it through. That figures, he said at last, eying me carefully. As usual, I didnt have a clue what he was thinking behind that deadpan expression. I was worried hed think he didnt get in on his merits. It wasnt like that, I told him. All I did was get you the interview. You got in on your own. Ray shrugged. Hey, I dont really care how I got in. But it was nice of you to have helped. He stopped and exhaled. Sorry it isnt going to matter now. Neither Callie nor I knew what he meant. He saw that and gently added, I mean, I dont think theyll wait that long. I think Callie caught on first, and her face went pale. You dont mean Then I figured out what he meant too. Russo was were telling the truth about risking your parole? Ray nodded wistfully. Callies jaw dropped. But you shot him to save our lives! It was self-defense, I added. Well testify to that. It doesnt matter, Ray said bleakly. Ex-cons dont get the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the police wont realize who you are, Callie suggested. I had an inspiration. I could tell them I shot Russo.
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That got their attention, but Rays reaction told the story. He seemed almost sorry for me. No fingerprints on the gun, no residue on your hands. I dont think that one is going to fly. Its not fair! Callie exclaimed. Fair doesnt have anything to do with it, Ray told her, looking at me. He gave me a defeated smile, something I thought Id never see from him. Hey, if theres three people who know about unfair things happening to them, I figure its us. I didnt want to think too deeply about his statement. Maybe I should have just done what he wanted, I said instead, the weight of the death and its impact on Ray hitting me hard. I could have gone to the police later. Theres no point second guessing yourself now, Roger, Callie said. They would have killed her anyway, Ray said. His voice was soft but bore no doubt. After theyd done what they wanted to to her. It wouldnt have been pretty. Then they would have killed you too, no matter what you did at the trial. You didnt have a choice. Rays words had the grim finality of a blessing, or a curse. They made me shiver at the thought of the risk our lives had faced, and that we had, miraculously, survived somehow. Callie seemed even more shaken; her time with Russo and his men must have given her a pretty good idea of how they would have treated her once they decided they didnt need her. We sat in silence for a while, contemplating our brush with fate. Outside our room, the main room bustled with activity, as the police turned it into a crime scene to be analyzed and booked. At last Phillips came in, with Morris and Silverman at his side. He leaned
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against the pool table near us, and they took positions a few feet away. He studied us carefully before he began, shaking his head sadly. He nodded briefly at Morris, who took out a small video camera and held it up towards us. OK, for those of you who dont know me, Im Assistant District Attorney Walter Phillips. With me are Detectives Morris and Silverman. Were going to ask you a few questions, then well all go back to the stationhouse for some more questions and a bunch of paperwork. He went on to explain that, just in case, they would be taping our statements, and, although none of us were under arrest at the moment, anything we said could be used against us. He advised us we didnt have to answer our questions or could wait until we had an attorney present, but he hoped we could just figure out what happened. He stopped a second, and flashed a humorless smile. I dont suppose anyone is going to tell me that Tate shot Russo and you just subdued him afterwards, are you? When no one responded, he sighed. No, I didnt think so. OK, who wants to start? Ray just stared at the floor, but Callie and I exchanged glances. She decided to start. She explained they had called her around midnight, telling her I was in trouble at Micks, without identifying themselves. She rushed over, puzzled to not find me once she got here. Russo told her I must have slipped out, so had her call my mobile. Once Id heard her voice, Russo took the phone from her and she realized who they were and that shed been tricked into luring me. I picked up the story from there, explaining Russos proposal, his threats, my fight with Tate, and Rays fortunate emergence. When they realized Munoz had been there as well, Phillips sent Silverman out to tell the other detectives. As he started to leave the room, Ray came out of his reverie long enough to mention the fourth man whom he had disabled. He told them where to find the man, bound by his shoelaces in the dumpster in the alley. Morris pulled his head away from the camera to give Ray a questioning look at this, and we paused our statement until Silverman returned.
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I offered to let Ray tell the part of between him and Russo, but he shook his head at me to indicate I should continue. The three of them listened to the rest of my account, paying special attention to how the exchange between Ray and Russo had escalated to the shooting. Theyd found the knife on the floor near Russos body, and had already taken the shotgun in evidence as well. Howd you know there was a shotgun under the bar there, Mr. Satterfield? Morris asked him pointedly. Ray looked over at him with an unruffled expression. Every bar I know has a peacemaker under the bar. I was just hoping for a bat. Finding the shotgun was just a bonus. Did you come here to kill Russo? Morris interjected. Ray didnt bother to look at him. No. His voice was subdued but certain. Did you mean to kill him when you shot him? Silverman asked softly, choosing this moment to break his silence. Ray turned his attention to Silverman. I meant to put him down, yeah. Just like I knew hed try to put me down if he had the chance. He was entirely matter-of-fact about it, and Silverman seemed to accept it on those terms as well. Phillips and Morris, on the other hand, stared at Ray hard, seeing not a hero but a criminal, and I felt angry and helpless. Phillips exhaled a deep breath, and nodded towards Morris to stop recording. OK, I think we have what we need for now. Lets go downtown. He stood up and nodded almost imperceptively towards the detectives. They took a step closer towards Ray. You know the drill, Silverman said to him wearily, evidently not liking it any better than we did. What are you doing? Callie challenged them. The detectives stopped momentarily.
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We have to cuff him, maam. He just shot somebody. Were taking him into custody. He saved our lives, I protested. Hes on parole, Silverman answered. It appeared theyd already checked up on Ray. Weve got to take him in and process him. You need handcuffs to do that? I said. You going to cuff us too? Morris glared at me. Dont tempt me. He saved our lives, Callie reminded them. You cant arrest him for that. She sounded equal parts incredulous and indignant. Only Silverman seemed uneasy with the situation. Morris almost seemed to be amused by the whole thing, while Philips was keeping his cards close to the vest. Its standard procedure, maam, Silverman said at last. Lets not get too worked up. It doesnt mean anything is going to happen to him. Even he didnt seem to quite believe his own words. Phillips indicated we should leave. Lets go. It was too unfair. We should have never been in this crummy bar in the first place. We shouldnt have had our lives threatened by Russo and his madmen. By all rights Callie should be home in bed, not dealing with this madness on top of the ordeal shed already been forced through. I decided I needed to add my outrage. Im not going to stand for this. Mr. Sinclair, I appreciate your view here, but theres really nothing you can do. Phillips looked at Ray, looking for just a second like a person instead of an ambitious
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suit. You did a good thing tonight, Satterfield. Ill put in a good word for you. But you knew what the risks were when you came here tonight. Ray held Phillips stare, and something seemed to fade from Rays eyes. It about broke my heart. I thought it was all the hope that had built up recently that his life was changing. Hed won that lottery at last; things had been looking up for the first time in years. I thought that he had finally started to relearn how to feel things. Now this. Now that he could feel again he could feel the pain of it all being taken away all over again. Id caused all that. I hadnt meant to hurt him, but it was all my fault. Ray forced a small smile. That I did. He looked at Callie, then back at me. That I did indeed. And Id do it again. No regrets. He seemed a much bigger man I was, than any of us were. My eyes watered over at his sacrifice and I thought I could not bear the cost hed had to pay. Suddenly, Callie spoke up. Mr. Phillips? Tell me how did Russo get free? Wasnt he in your custody? Phillips looked uncomfortable. I dont know, but trust me -- there will hell to pay when I do. Callie smiled sweetly at him. And how much do you think Ill win in the civil suit? You know, for the police department allowing an imprisoned murder suspect to escape and kidnap me? Morris looked like he was going to have a heart attack. Phillips face grew red but he didnt say anything. Surprisingly, I caught Silverman having to suppress a smile. Callie wheeled herself forward slightly, as if to remind them that she was in a wheelchair. I imagine the press is outside by now maybe even a few cameras? How do you think theyre going to like the story of the poor cripple in the wheelchair, captured by these dangerous escaped felons, rescued by her two friends -- and you dragging away one of her rescuers in handcuffs? Locking him up for helping her? She chucked meanly. Oh,
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my. This is going to make some news, I tell you. Oh, and yeah -- isnt it an election year for your boss, by the way? Phillips eyes grew cold and calculating. Morris was holding Rays arm. Rays hands were already cuffed behind his back. Phillips looked over at Silverman, who had blanked out any signs of his smile. He turned back to Callie. We could explain everything, he said weakly. Maybe so, Callie replied confidently. She leaned towards him and spoke in a stage whisper. But I doubt it. Phillips thought for a long moment. Wait here, he told us, gesturing for the detectives to follow him. They began a heated discussion with some other people in the next room. Ballsy move, Ray told her. It was the most spark hed shown since the shooting, and I thought it came less from any hopes for himself than for his admiration for her nerve. Think it will work? I asked. Probably not, but it was fun to watch. We watched the discussion wind down in the other room. Callie turned to Ray and pretended to be mad. Oh, and, by the way, I almost forgot. Kill her, she means nothing to me? Thanks a lot. It should have been funny. She meant it to be funny, to let him know she understood and forgave him for his statement. Somehow it just fell flat. You play the cards you have, Ray told her mildly. You dont always like the deal you get, but you play them the best you can. I sure as hell wasnt going to put down that shotgun. He might have been answering her, but for some reason I thought he was talking to me.
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Callie nodded her understanding, then nodded towards the returning trio. They didnt look happy. OK, Phillips said briskly as they took their positions again. I couldnt tell if he was happy or unhappy. If he was being forced into anything, youd never know it. I had the feeling that, one way or another, hed make whatever was going to happen look like it was his idea. He nodded towards Silverman, who was already moving towards Ray with the key. Mr. Satterfield is free to go. It was over. We were safe.
Chapter 35 Six months later Callie Haywood was dead. I was in Denver on business when I got the call. Shed had a stroke, caused by a clot that had formed in her legs and then passed up to her heart. When Brooke called me to tell me the news, she told me Callie was in a coma. The doctors said it could be anywhere from an hour to several months before she might die. Despite the uncertainty, I told Brooke Id fly straight home. I was shocked when I saw her, unconscious in her intensive care bed and hooked up to an array of tubes and monitors. Although I got there within a few hours of her stroke, I was afraid for her as soon as I saw her. There was none of her normal spark visible. Id seen her asleep, and this was different. There was nothing Callie left, aside from her pure physical form. I had to leave the room to compose myself. We took shifts being with her. I took the midnight to eight shift. Her parents took eight to four, and Brooke was there from then until I came on. Ray accompanied Brooke during her vigils. I often joined them, arriving an hour or two before I was scheduled to
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just so I could commiserate with them and help share the pain. I didnt know if it helped them, but it helped me. A lot had happened in those six months, perhaps none more surprising than Brooke and Ray hooking up. After the events at Micks, Callie, Ray and I had felt a special bond, and often hung out together. We didnt talk about it much, but that night had clarified our mortality and solidified our mutual relationships. After what wed been through, everything else seemed less important somehow. Early on Callie had started to include Brooke. Initially Brooke was almost reluctant to join us partly because she hadnt gone through what the rest of us had, and partly because she still felt bad about all the trouble that shed caused me, inadvertent or not. Callie persisted in her efforts, especially after I welcomed Brooke warmly and we had made our peace with an awkward embrace. Then somewhere further down the line -- Im not quite sure when it started our foursome became a twosome on their part, and their twosome became more than just the two of them being friends. Ive never seen her happier, Callie had observed to me, after we found out what was going on. I had to take her word for it, but Brooke did, indeed, seem more relaxed and joyful than I had remembered her being. It was hard to tell how Ray felt about the whole thing, but I remembered what he had told me about Brooke on the way back from the park that one day, and I had to smile. I chose the late shift because I wanted to be alone with Callie as much as I could. During the day and evening hours, there were frequent visits from Callies many friends, as well as regular visits from the doctors and nurses. Interruptions were rarer overnight, although the hospital never really was quiet nurses walking by to respond to other patients calls, periodic checks on her vitals, sometimes the sounds of patients moans floating out from the other rooms like ghosts haunting her room. Sometimes I read to her, or provided color commentary on the array of reruns, infomercials, and bad movies that were on late night television. Mostly, though, I just talked to her, or simply held her hand. I wanted to be with her, and more than anything I wanted her to know that she was not alone, that she would never be alone as long as I was in the world. The doctors told me they
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doubted she was aware of anything, and there was virtually no chance that she would ever wake. But still I persisted in hoping that, somehow, she knew I was there. You knew, didnt you? I accused her softly one night. You knew this was coming and were trying to protect me, werent you? One of the doctors told me that, had she been able to feel her legs, she might have felt symptoms of the clot in advance of the stroke. They might have been able to avoid it had they known something was wrong. Then again, had she had feeling in her legs, had she been able to move her legs, the clot probably never would have formed at all. I liked to believe that, somehow, she did have some kind of prior warning, and that it was that warning that caused her to try to prevent me from falling too much in love with her. I couldnt help but falling in love with her, of course, but had she not pulled away to some extent, had she kept sleeping with me, I might have fallen so deeply that this tragedy might have destroyed me as well. It was difficult enough to sit with her unmoving figure in the dark, knowing she was never going to open her eyes and smile at me again. But I was losing a dear friend, not a lover, much as I might have preferred it to be different. I didnt really believe that shed nobly sacrificed herself for me like that, but it helped pass the awful truth I saw when I looked at her.
I wished I had been the one there when she died. I wished I could have been the one holding her hand when that once so powerful spirit gave up the fight and slipped away. But it happened while I was sleeping in my apartment, in the early afternoon of the sixth day after her stroke. Her parents were with her at the time. Ray called me, and as soon as the phone rang I knew what it was about. Shes gone, Roger, he said quietly. I wept uncontrollably once I dumbly hung up the phone.
Bridget came for the funeral. She had never met Callie. I had kept thinking there would be time for that, but hadnt made it happen on the couple of occasions Bridget was in town. I regretted it now. Bright girl that she was, Bridget had an idea of how important
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Callie was to me, and she made sure she was with me for this. I introduced her around at the viewing, and she spent a long time talking with Ray and Brooke. The four of us chatted for a while, and Ray stayed with me when the two of them went to the ladies room or perhaps just to check out the flowers girls bonding time, I assumed. Your daughters very nice, Ray noted. Pretty girl. She takes after her mother, I said, letting a small smile slip out. It faded as I came back to our present setting. Hows Brooke doing? I asked. He shrugged and sighed. Shell make it, he said simply. What he didnt need to say was, shell make it with his help. He wasnt vain like that, but I knew it was true. She relied on him for his quiet yet palatable strength. Killing Russo had cost Ray. It didnt show, but I knew nonetheless. Oh, not in any legal sense. In fact, quite the reverse, ironically enough. We were quite the media darlings for a time there, even drawing some national attention. The story had all the angles the brave, beautiful yet crippled woman, a nasty criminal, a crooked lawyer, a guard on the make, and the two friends from vastly different backgrounds who braved almost certain death to rescue the fair maiden. None of us welcomed the media attention, especially Ray, but Callie was the one who had been smart enough to use it to our advantage. She started a campaign to get Ray a full pardon. His heroic and selfless action to save her, combined with the unfairness of his earlier conviction, made for a compelling story. The media picked up the idea and ran with it. President Carter made a public statement endorsing the idea and praising Ray, and his support carried a lot of weight with Franklins powerful alumni. The politicians were no fools; the pardon looked like it was going to happen. If ever someone deserved one, it was Ray. I had often wondered if he had known about the shotgun when he decided to come. It might have made his decision easier. On the other hand, even if he did, he had no way of knowing if they had already taken it, or if they had guns of their own. I figured, either
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way, he was a hero in my book. I once tried, in my indirect, awkward way, to tell him that, and hed just stared at me with that impassive expression only he had. He had just shaken his head at me. There was only one hero there that night, my man, hed told me solemnly. One hero and one brave lady. He wouldnt hear any objections from me, but I knew he was wrong. He refused to discuss the events any further, even when the press and well-meaning hangers-on pressed him for more details. I didnt think he was second-guessing himself for killing Russo. Russo was a bad man. He deserved to die. Ray had saved all of our lives by taking his life. It just troubled him to have killed even a man like Russo. I had to say that I liked and respected Ray even more for the fact that the taking of even such a worthless life weighed upon him. How you doing, man? Ray asked, giving me a critical appraisal, as though he was worried Id start bawling suddenly. He was right to worry; I wasnt sure I wasnt going to. I shook my head. I dont know. How can I be numb and in so much pain at the same time? He smiled sympathetically. I know what you mean. I stared at Callies body, laying carefully arrayed in her open casket. She already looked artificial, made up by the morticians with their usual professionalism to look like just another dead woman, as though her death itself was not enough of an insult. She wouldnt have liked people to see that lifeless thing be the last memory of her that people saw. I exhaled deeply. I dont know. Its so hard. Maybe it would have been better if Id never known her. You dont mean that, Ray corrected me. Youre a lucky man. I laughed bitterly. Why dont I feel lucky?
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Ray was quiet for longer than normal, and I waited him out. Callie and I had something in common. We knew things dont last. The difference was, she always hoped for a better day, right to the end. I looked at him curiously. You dont? His smile was tinged with melancholy. I didnt used to. I wasnt sure where he was implying credit me, Callie, his own resources but he was right about Callie. He looked at me seriously. But you -- look, man, she loved you. I wasnt quite ready for that. I shook my head. No, I wish she had, but she didnt. Ray shook his head. OK, maybe not in a true love way, but, yeah, she loved you, she cared about you. You were special to her. You know that. I gnawed my lip, still staring at her unmoving body. Maybe. And thirty years from now, when youre looking back at your life and the people you knew are you going to be sorry you knew her? Rays tone was carefully challenging. I turned to look him straight in the eyes. I saw the wisdom, far beyond his years. I nodded. Youre right. I wouldnt trade these months for anything, except maybe her life. Id give up having known her if it meant she would still be alive. Rays face displayed his sadness. He reached out and touched my arm. You dont get that choice. You just take what you get. Bridget and Brooke returned, Bridget giving me an insightful look that indicated she knew Ray and I had been talking about something serious. Brooke asked if she could borrow the two of them, and once I agreed the three of them went off to meet some of
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Callies friends that had just arrived. Bridget gave me a will you be OK? look as she walked off, and I just smiled at her. I myself was having a hard time holding conversations with anyone. I preferred to stand off to the side, making the polite comments one is obligated to make at such events, but usually ended up standing next to the casket staring at Callies unmoving body. The world was a darker place without her, and all the flowers, all the make-up, all the lovely surroundings couldnt make it any different. I rather thought that she wouldnt like this stuffy gathering. She would have preferred a loud party someplace, without her cold body there to remind people of the gloomy reason they were all together. She would have preferred people remembering how alive she used to be, not having their noses rubbed in the face of how dead she was now. This more formal affair was for her parents, of course, and they did, indeed, seem comforted by the attendance and sympathetic comments from Callies mourners. It wasnt helping me. Theyre pretty cool, Bridget admitted when she rejoined me. She eyed Ray from across the room. I should have come up sooner so you could introduce me to Ray before he got together with Brooke. I thought that she was teasing, but I wasnt entirely sure. I dont think youre his type, I replied carefully. She gave me a skeptical look. Im not pretty enough? Youre plenty pretty, darling, I assured her. I think that Brooke just, um, needs some things that he can give her more than you do. Uh-huh, she said absently, looking back across the room at Ray and Brooke, who were holding hands as they dealt with some of her parents friends. They seemed to fit together somehow, and I found it impossible to see how Brooke could have handled Callies death without Rays quiet and constant strength. I didnt know if they would
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stay together, but I thought his courage in helping her through all this rivaled his courage in rescuing Callie and me at Micks. I didnt know if Bridget understood what I meant about Brooke, but she let it go. A couple we knew came by at that point to offer their condolences. Itd been a couple of years since theyd seen Bridget, so the conversation quickly turned to catching up on her life and the lives of their own kids. I mostly just let Bridget do the conversational work. They finally left us, happy to have done their good deed by paying their respects. You know, I think a lot of people are going to be begging your pardon for having abandoned you when things looked bad, she observed, watching them make their exit. There are lots of people wholl want to be friends again. Thats OK, I said. I smiled sadly. I know who my friends are now.
Chapter 36 I somehow survived the funeral the next day, although I really dont know how. I hadnt managed to sleep at all, and the service just about broke me. But I remained strong, knowing Callie would have laughed at me tenderly, sympathetically, but letting me know I shouldnt be so upset -- if I broke down in front of everyone. I dont recall what words were said, and didnt really care, knowing how puny the words were to express what many of us were feeling. After the funeral was over, we had some time before Bridget had to leave again, so I took her to see a house. More specifically, I took her to see my house -- the house that I had purchased two weeks prior. I wasnt due to close on it for another couple of weeks, but the previous owners were already out and so the realtor lent me the key. I was still pretty happy with my job. In fact, my discovery that Brooke had never actually filed a harassment complaint against me had proved to be the final leverage Gary
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needed to expose Eric Montgomery. It turned out that I wasnt the first dirty trick Montgomery had pulled and hed been banging his assistant to boot. Montgomery had been rather ignominiously fired, and Gary offered me my old job back, at a considerable raise. Thanks, man, I said at the time. But Im pretty happy working at AMK. And indeed I was. I liked talking to the customers, liked the people at AMK I worked with, and didnt mind the travel so much. Gary had laughed. Youve changed, man. How so? I dont know, hed said. I always thought you kind of liked things quiet and predictable. Now youre out having all these adventures. I mean, look at you you went through all this shit and survived. He shook his head in amazement, and I thought that he sounded envious, something Id never thought Gary would be about my life. I thought Gary was wrong about my changing. It was like when I looked at old photographs of myself. I dont ever feel like I look any younger in them; I always think I look pretty much the same. Its other people getting older, or maybe the people looking at them are getting younger. Same thing here; I thought I hadnt changed, but that the world had changed around me. I certainly hadnt been looking for adventures -- and Lord knows some of them had been things I wouldnt choose to have happen again -- but, all in all, I couldnt really say that I minded where it had all taken me. I was just trying to deal with things that came along as best I could, holding on for dear life at times, but holding on nonetheless. I hadnt known what to say, so Id just smiled and shrugged at Gary. Hed shaken his head again and we shook hands. After Montgomery got fired I noticed some of my old friends or coworkers started to call again, to say hello and tentatively suggest getting together. I was polite to them, but
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didnt really encourage them. I wasnt mad anyone, but Id learned what real friends were like out of all of this, and I wasnt going to be lulled into a false sense of friendship again. On the other hand, I had met a nice lady on a flight to Minneapolis. We overlapped for a few days there, and spent some evenings together. After that, we had started a long distance relationship of sorts. We still hadnt progressed much further than nice dinners and evening walks, plus several long telephone conversations in the weeks after that, but we were trying to arrange a weekend together in New York. She was mature, smart, and attractive. We seemed to get along well and have some chemistry. I was prepared to see where it might go. My life was starting to get more normal again. But what I missed was a place to come home to. After reflecting on this for a couple of months, I had started looking for a house, something I could turn into a home again. I knew my apartment would never be a home, and I desperately wanted that comfort in my life again. Callie went on a couple of the showings with me. I have to admit that one of my criteria for a house had been how accessible it would be for Callie not that I expected her to ever live there, but I had hoped she would be a regular visitor. Shed loved this one as soon as shed seen it, and so I bought it. Very nice, Bridget told me after Id shown her around. The house was a 1930s Tudor, in an older neighborhood full of other well maintained houses of a variety of styles. It had three bedrooms, a big family room, a renovated kitchen, and a half-finished basement. I like it, I said simply. The house was vacant and had that distorted dimension that such an absence of furnishings and personal touches always cause. I could see the house gradually growing more personal, reflecting more of me and my life -- a place to come home to. I can think of a lot of projects. I just wish I
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still had my shop. I could make things for the house. I could have made things for I couldnt finish the thought. Bridgets face went from cheerful to sympathetic. Hey, she said, reaching out to touch my arm. I have a surprise for you. I dont know, I told her glumly. I think Ive had enough surprises lately. No, youll like this surprise, she promised. She reached into her purse and pulled out a key. She grabbed my hand and thrust it into my palm. Whats this? Her eyes twinkled mischievously. Its a key to your storage locker. Thats right, I have a bunch of furniture and stuff there. I forgot all about it. Thats not all. She was being maddeningly mysterious, and enjoying it. Its the stuff from your workshop. I stared at her. I thought you sold all that for me. She smiled back at me, full of love and triumph. Well, I might have not gotten around to selling quite everything. I kind of thought youd want your tools someday. My daughter was so smart, so thoughtful. I took her in my arms and hugged her for all she was worth. Thank you, I whispered to her. We walked around the house some more, and I described to her some of my plans for it. She encouraged me, probably relieved I was not thinking about Callie for a change.
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What she didnt know, of course, was that all my plans had been made with Callie in mind, and sharing them with her served as a way to relive those times. We were interrupted by Bridgets phone ringing. She opened it up and listened for a few seconds. Its for you, she said, much to my surprise. She handed me the phone. Hello? I couldnt imagine who would be calling me on her phone. Hello, Roger. To my extreme surprise, it was Kathryn. I had thought I was too numb for surprises, but Id been wrong. I lowered the phone slightly, looking at Bridget with a startled expression. Go on, she urged me in a whisper. Talk to her. Roger? Kathryns voice sounded distant. Bridget nodded at me again, eyes full of hope. She started to back away. Hello, Kathryn. Id had this conversation with her a thousand times in my head some angry, some magnanimous, some reconciliatory and some bitter. Now that it was actually here, though, I found myself utterly at a loss for words. She picked up the slack. I should have called before this. I almost called you so many times before. I just, I didnt know if I could be strong enough to do what I needed to do if I gave in and called you before I was ready. But when Bridget told me about your friend, I had to call. Her voice sounded scared and tentative, but full of emotion. Thanks, I told her, not too sure what to feel. My two separate pains had now linked up into one big pain, and my poor emotional system couldnt make sense of all that input. It just went numb instead.
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Maybe next time you come visit Bridget we can have dinner, she told me hopefully. I could introduce you to myfriend. I gulped. Maybe. Ill think about it. We talked for a couple more minutes, although I couldnt really say what we talked about. Kathryn signed off, sounding almost as emotional as I was. I saw Bridget watching me from across the room. Everything OK? I nodded. I guess so. I dont know. Maybe. I guess I was just kind of surprised. Shes been wanting to call you for awhile. Im sorry it wasnt till now. I felt suddenly weak and went over to the staircase to sit down. You all right? Bridget asked, coming over to sit by me. She put her arm around my shoulder. Yeah. I guess its just all hitting me. You know, Im not sure your mother hates me after all. Id just gotten used to the idea and then she goes and does something like this. I shook my head in disbelief. She patted my shoulder. She never hated you. She has a funny way of showing it. I snapped out the words before I had the good sense to realize they were a mistake, that they came from a previous time in my life. Dad, for such an intelligent man you can be awfully dense sometimes, Bridget told me in an affectionate tone of voice. I know it sounds funny, but moms leaving wasnt about you. It wasnt?
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No, it was about her. It sounded so simple when Bridget said it, but somehow Id never thought of it in that way. About her? She needed to figure out who she was without you. She loved you and she still does but you guys got married so young that she never really had a chance to grow up as a person on her own. Kathryn wasnt the bad person, and neither was I. Finally understanding that was a weight off my shoulders, and I took a deep breath to clear my head. Although I knew, instinctively, that she was right about Kathryn, and I could now, at long last, understand what had happened, I couldnt resist teasing Bridget a bit. I gave her a reproachful look. And the thing about being a lesbian? It took her a moment to realize I was kidding, and her face broke out in that infectious smile that I loved. She gave me a playful push. I dont think shes decided shes a lesbian. I think shes just trying things out. A year ago, the concept of trying out a gay relationship as part of discovering oneself would have seemed shocking to me, but after all that had happened, it somehow didnt seem at all outlandish. I nodded gravely. So well see, then?
I took Bridget out to the airport late that afternoon, and gave her a long hug good-bye. I promised to come visit her in a few weeks, and she promised to come back when Id had a chance to make the house more presentable. You really are the greatest kid any parent could ask for, you know? I told her with tears in my eyes. Her eyes grew wet as well and it was all I could do to let her go. I watched her walk away, giving me a wave as she headed through security.
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I drove to the cemetery, quiet now that the funerals were all over with for the day. I found my way to Callies grave, the earth still disturbed by the internment. I stood by her grave, knowing she was dead but not believing she was really gone. It was still light out, although the light was starting to fade to twilight, but I seemed to have the cemetery all to myself. Everything looked very green, with the flowers fully in bloom and the leaves blowing softly in the breeze. I was sure that most of the city was enjoying the lovely evening, talking of all the events of their lives and believing them to be important. And perhaps they were, although somehow I couldnt convince myself of that at this moment. Brooke and Ray were probably with her parents, surrounded by friends and family. Id been invited to come by, but I felt the need to be alone with Callie. I had a feeling this wouldnt be the last time I would come here to be with her, but I hoped it would grow less painful over time. It would have been great if Callie had, indeed, fallen in love with me, but what I really would have liked was to see her walking towards me. Maybe Id have been sitting at Brewed Heaven and shed walk over to join me for a cup of coffee. Just the sight of her, smiling at me and ambling without a care in the world, smiling that special smile of hers, yes, that would have been special. We could have sat there maybe Ray and Brooke would have been there too just talking and enjoying each others company. That would have been worth a lot. I didnt think they had a price for how valuable that would have been to me. I never thought youd be the first one to die, dear, I told her headstone, hoping she could hear me wherever she was. I mean, you warned me, but I never really believed you. You had too much life in you to die. I thought, if I was lucky, youd be the one telling nice stories about me at my funeral. Youd have been better at it than I was at yours. I gave her an apologetic smile and tried to pull myself together. Im sorry youre there and Im here, Callie, I told her softly, trying to smile but failing. If I could have it the other way around, I would, honest. It just happened that way.
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Thats the thing of it, I realized. Sometimes things happen to you and you deserve them. Sometimes you dont. Sometimes they just happen for no apparent reason. If there is a master plan, its opaque to us. Instead of a master plan, I preferred to think about Rays dark energy, forces acting upon us that we cant even conceive of and affecting us in ways we dont and maybe never can understand. It doesnt make the bad things better at the end of the day, I was still divorced and Callie was still dead but at least you dont spend your life trying to look for meaning where it just may not exist. As Ray would say, you just play the hand youre dealt. Its how you play it that matters. I looked around at the cemetery, full of other reminders of promises lost and loves separated, and took a deep breath. I have to go now, Callie, but Ill be back, I promised. And I would, but if she really was listening, she already knew that, and knew Id be thinking of her whether I was physically here or not. It brought a smile to my face. I looked up at the setting sun, and, for once, thought not of the night but of the morning ahead.
THE END
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Everything Was Going So Well

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Everything Was Going So Well

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Everything Was Going So Well