Today People

by Barbara G. Tarn

  He left with Pamela some time later and took her home. This time he accepted her invitation. He had her, but it wasn’t as fulfilling as he... expected? Hoped? Wanted?

  "Whoa, Carl, it was really worth the wait, wasn't it?"

  Not really. Not for him. He should stop playing with ghosts.

  But he had to deal with one more, first.

  ***

  "So, what did you think of the reunion?" Warren asked over lunch with Bonnie the morning after. Cindy was at work, so they were alone. They usually had a chat about their classmates after every reunion, but this one had felt different. "About Carl and Pam leaving together openly, mostly?"

  Bonnie shrugged. "They're obviously made for each other these days. They feel superior."

  "I don't know about Carl," Warren said, shaking his head. "I did see him before the reunion, and he was different."

  Startled, Bonnie stared at him. "What do you mean?"

  "Like he has a public and a private persona. I mean, when we were alone he looked quite shy – his old introverted self, I mean. I don't know, last night I often thought he was playing a part."

  Bonnie nodded, thoughtful. "Much like Pam."

  "Yeah, but... we're used to Pam's shows. Carl is different."

  She scoffed. "Of course, he's not a dumb blonde who thinks she's a goddess!"

  "Hey, I'm also considered a dumb blond, so be nice," he scolded.

  "You're blond and gorgeous and might not be as smart as Carl Martin, but you're not dumb," she assured with a smile.

  He grabbed her hand across the table. "Then why don't you marry me?"

  Her smile vanished and she stared at her plate. "I'm living with you. Isn't it enough?"

  He squeezed her fingers, but she managed to withdraw her hand.

  "You were all in love with Pam Lynch at school," she muttered. "I am nothing like her."

  "Well, we're not in high school anymore – in case you didn't notice," he replied.

  "I noticed," she snapped. "A lot of people have changed their dreams or forgotten their talents to just... breed and join the factory! Just another brick in the wall, all the same! That's not what I want."

  "So, what do you want?" he asked patiently. Definitely not a good reunion this year. She was always grumpy afterward, but never this sour.

  "I don't know, but it's not the American dream," she said, depressed. "I don't want Carl's money or Pam's glamour, or Matt and Diane's happy family."

  "So you want to be like Cindy?" he protested. "I thought you enjoyed living with me!"

  She sighed and looked him in the eyes. "I do, Warren. But this doesn't mean I want to marry you and start a family."

  "Don't you have a biological clock or something?"

  She slammed her hand on the table. "Fuck the biological clock! No, I don't want kids, okay? If it's the only reason why you're still with me, we can split right now!"

  "No, no, it's not the only reason," he assured, still puzzled by her reaction. "Okay, fine, we'll just keep going like this!"

  She calmed down. "I'm sorry, Warren," she grumbled. "You should give up on me."

  "I won't." He grabbed both her hands. "I love you, Bonnie, I won't give up on you."

  7.

  "Carl? Is it really you?"

  His mother looked as old and battered as the house she still lived in – the house where he'd grown up and then abandoned as soon as he could. Years hadn't been kind on either.

  He sighed. "Yes, Mother, it's me."

  He could still hear the harsh words that had driven him away from this house. She'd called him "social climber" and told him that mud could never turn to gold. She might have had a point, since he felt more like pyrite at the moment. But he'd never admit it to her.

  She hugged him and started crying. Was that an apology? Had she missed him in spite of the contempt shown for his ambition so many years ago?

  "Come on, Mother..." He awkwardly patted her shoulders.

  She pulled back and slapped him, then wiped away her tears. "I thought you were dead, you little..."

  "Come on, Mother, I made national magazine covers!"

  "Do you really think I have time for magazines?" she scolded. "I work all day, like I did since your father's death."

  "I had a mild heart attack, but as you can see, I recovered," he replied.

  "Oh my God! I knew I should worry for you!"

  "No, you shouldn't. Will you let me in or do you want all the neighbors to watch this melodrama?"

  She frowned but let him in. Inside was mostly the same, with the furniture showing its age.

  Carl went to his old room – three single beds and old posters on the wall. Only one desk and a couple of shelves, and an old radio-recorder with a pile of audio tapes. It looked unused and covered with dust.

  "They're all gone," his mother said, standing at the door. "My babies. Danny became a priest. Mary and John are married. Laura overdosed over some dude who used her."

  He turned to look at her. "I'm married too."

  Startled, she glared at him. "You didn't invite me."

  He scoffed. "I didn't invite anybody. Vanessa doesn't know where I come from." He looked around the room again, almost seeing himself fooling around with his brothers.

  "Are you out of your mind?" she asked bluntly.

  "No, I had enough of being considered white trash." He looked at her again. "I married Vanessa Gold." Although even she was more like pyrite than real gold. What was he thinking when he made the deal. Not that he believed in love anymore, but he could have looked for a more suitable bride. Heck, now that he'd seen her again, even Pamela Lynch looked better than Vanessa!

  Should I reconsider everything? He felt his mother's eyes piercing his back like in the old days and he turned to look at her.

  She closed her mouth with a gulp – she must have been gaping – and frowned. "Then my son is really dead," she grumbled, averting her eyes.

  "That's what I thought – and hoped," he admitted. "Until my heart failed me and reminded me of Dad."

  It was her turn to scoff. "You have your father's heart, then. How much longer will you last?"

  "I have money to keep myself fit," he retorted. "But I'm reconsidering my achievements, my assets and my choices."

  "Is this why you came back?" she asked.

  "Yes. And to visit you."

  "You forgot I existed for more than twenty years!"

  "I apologize," he said flatly. "But you told me I'd never make it, so I had to prove you wrong."

  She shook her head with a sigh.

  "Oh, Carl, what shall I do with you? You were so bright, so smart, and I was so afraid they'd hurt you..."

  He smiled. "I'm grown up now. And I was always stronger than what you thought."

  She smiled back. "Deep inside I always knew you'd make it."

  He opened his arms. She came forward and he hugged her.

  "If you were so sure, why did you keep bringing me down?" he asked.

  She chuckled. "To make you stronger. I didn't want you to end up like your father."

  "I hated you for it." He squeezed her.

  "I hated you too when you left." She squeezed back.

  "Okay, let's bury the past and forgive each other."

  "Fine, when do I meet your wife?"

  He pulled away, serious again.

  "I'm not sure I want you to meet her," he said.

  "But why, she's the woman you love!" she protested.

  "In that case, I should have married Pamela Lynch." Or Angela Byrne – who was already married.

  "The pretty cheerleader?"

  He nodded. "She was the love of my life. Love isn't part of my marriage deal."

  "Oh, Carl!" She looked so disappointed, he couldn't help but smile.

  "Sorry, Mom. I need to clear my mind before I let you into this new life of mine."

  ***

  Carl observed himself and his life with a detached eye. Vanessa was a stranger who liked flirting with other men – including his
assistant. St. Martin, LLC was still his pride, but money hadn't given him the happiness he expected. The discomfort in his chest was gone, but who knew when it would come back.

  He went back to the observation point some six months later. He was thoughtful and uneasy. He stared at the city not as a conqueror anymore, but as a tired emperor. He needed to re-evaluate his accomplishments, his assets, everything. So much had changed during the past months – mostly inside him.

  It was almost Christmas, a first draft of his story sat on his laptop, and he couldn't find the courage to read it again or give it to someone for an opinion. It had poured out of him like in the old days, but then self-doubt had kicked in and he was stuck again.

  His brain was restless, continually rethinking goals and strategies and comparing old dreams with his new reality. Not easy to draw a balance and move on, no. And the mask of success seemed to want to slide off his face more and more often.

  "Hey, Carl." Cindy's voice startled him. She stopped next to him to look at the city with a thoughtful smile on her lips. "We first met here."

  "Yeah." He looked at the skyline and the ocean too.

  "Why are you here today?" she asked.

  He shrugged. "You?" He looked at her, curious.

  She stared at the city, dreamy. "I came to say good-bye."

  "To what?"

  She snapped out of her reverie. "This town." She smiled sheepishly at him. "I'm going home. This love story wasn't meant to be – me and the city, I mean."

  "I thought you wanted to move here," he commented, surprised.

  "I needed time to think, away from everything I have always known," she replied. "I miss it now."

  "You miss your roots?"

  "Yeah." She looked him in the eyes. "So why did you come back here?"

  He smiled ruefully, pondering. "Swear you won't tell Bonnie, or Warren."

  "I swear I won't reveal your secrets to anybody," she promised, signaling her lips were sealed.

  "Okay, when you first saw me here, I felt like a winner. I had achieved something. I had made it." Talking to a stranger felt safer than confiding in any of his friends.

  "You sure did," She said with a nod. "Nobody can take it away from you."

  "Yeah, but the price..." He shook his head, uneasy. "I'm wondering if the price was right."

  Cindy nodded again, serious. "You miss your roots and want to go back."

  "I have nowhere to go back to," he retorted. He had cut off all his roots. Willingly. His mother might forgive him, but everybody else? He pondered again and shook his head with a sigh. "I don't know, I was so busy killing my past, I wonder if I killed myself as well in the process."

  "You just followed your dreams," Cindy objected.

  "Of course. Thing is, now they've come true, I'm not sure I want them anymore."

  "You probably changed in the meantime," she replied. "You reached a goal, now you need to set the next one."

  "And what could that be?"

  She smiled fondly at him. He stepped back, wary of the answer.

  "Be the richest man on Earth, start a family, have a lover and cheat on your wife..." she started to count.

  "Done that," he grumbled as Pam's naked body flashed inside his mind.

  "Already an adulterer?" She sounded more amused than shocked.

  "She cheated on me first," he retorted.

  "Whatever." She waved it off. "I can't dream your dreams for you."

  "I'm so tired and bored, I don't even know what I want anymore," he admitted. Even writing had lost its flavor. Heck, even reading had, at this point in his life! What was wrong with him? Mid-life crisis already?

  She stared at him and her smile faded away.

  "I know exactly what you mean, Carl. It's what brought me here."

  "So you're telling me to get away, find a new motivation."

  "If I had the kind of money you have, I'd have traveled up and down the world, gone to Europe, Asia, wherever..."

  "I had my fair share of travels, thank you. For business and vacation."

  "Find a new place to explore. You can't have seen or done it all."

  He sighed. "Guess not. Thanks for the life lesson. How did you do it, meditation, yoga?"

  She giggled. "No, but you might want to look up some New Age theories on the internet. I'd have gone to an ashram in India, but crashing on Bonnie's couch was cheaper!"

  He chuckled. "I could afford the ashram thing... but it would feel as if I'm running away."

  "No, you're just taking a break to rebalance yourself," she chided.

  "Mm, right. Well, thank you, Cindy. It was great meeting you."

  "Sure. If you want to keep in touch, ask Bonnie. I don't have a card."

  "Oh, but I do." Without thinking, he fished in his pocket and handed her a card.

  She stared at it, puzzled, then smiled and took it. "Thank you, Carl."

  "How did you get here?"

  "Public transportation."

  "Want a lift? I still owe you one..."

  8.

  As Carl exited the courtroom behind the rush of journalists ready to spread the news, he thought with some relief it was the end of part one. He ignored Andy's apologies, stopping by a window. He turned to see Angela – still gorgeous after all those years – pass by with her teenage daughter. His daughter – the one he never knew he'd had.

  He met Angela's eyes, but she averted them without stopping or even saying hello. The old year was almost over. Time for a new start.

  Matt joined him and Andy, staring eloquently at him, but Carl shrugged. That was the last straw – Angela winning the paternity suit. He'd better do something about the rest of his life.

  He went home, but Vanessa wasn't there – probably out with Paul or some other guy. His patience with her youth had run out when he'd heard her say poor people didn't have what it take to run a company. He'd almost laughed out loud – between them, he was the smartest. And he came from poverty.

  But according to her, poor people weren't very smart, since it was money that made people smart. She obviously thought being smart could be bought somewhere like a dress or a pair of shoes. If only she possessed one ounce of her father's wisdom – unfortunately Carl was beginning to think she was brain-dead. Everything was due to her with no effort on her part – where was being smart with that?

  Or course she ignored his origins, but in six months of marriage she'd proved more spoiled and unreliable than he wished to handle. And she wasn't even blonde, so he couldn't call her "dumb blonde" like Pamela.

  Carl sat in the luxurious living room and picked up a magazine. Soon enough her high heels clicked into the room.

  She sat next to him.

  "What's up?" she asked, bored. He'd told the butler to send her to the living room as soon as she walked in, but she obviously wasn't expecting anything important.

  "I'm filing for divorce," he informed her, staring at the pages of the magazine as if it were the most important thing in the world.

  He heard her gasp in surprise.

  "Why?" she demanded.

  "Because I'm sick of this farce," he answered flatly.

  "But we had an agreement!"

  "A business deal. But I changed my mind. I don't like this anymore."

  "So what? Send me the divorce papers, I'll get all your money!" she challenged.

  He shook his head, amused, turning the page of the magazine, giving it more attention than he was giving her. "Our prenuptial agreement allows us to split and go back to our former financial situation," he told her.

  "What?"

  "Do I really have to spell it out for you? We split, I keep my money, you keep yours. That's it."

  "What about the church wedding?" she protested, nonplussed.

  "Unconsummated, remember?" Shouldn't have been part of the deal in the first place – except it looked good. The lavish ceremony, the guests... and then going to sleep in separate rooms.

  "So you'll have it annulled as if it never happened?"


  "Why not. It was a mistake, after all." It felt good to admit it. For a moment he wondered why it seemed so important to keep up the charade for her. She was young, what was she after? She could find a richer husband and strike another deal, so why did she want to stay with him, since she didn't love him?

  "But you're paying child support to that bitch!" she accused. Ah, so she was jealous of Angela, somehow.

  "She gave me a daughter," he replied.

  "So what do you want now, a child from me?"

  "No, I don't think I'm a family man, sorry."

  "You can't quit!" Vanessa exploded. "My father will kill you! He'll force you to pay alimony!"

  He stared at her, trying to keep his sarcasm in check. "Vanessa, you really should read before signing, you know? That's what really smart people do. Rich and poor."

  She tightened her lips, then stormed out of the room.

  One thing undone. What's next? Oh, yeah, new assistant!

  ***

  Before putting the job offer in the papers, Carl decided to ask his friends, so he called Warren.

  "Nice office." His former classmate looked impressed.

  "Thanks. Would you like to join?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "I need a new assistant, and I'd love to work with you."

  Warren stared at him, stunned, then shook his head.

  "I'm sorry, Carl, it's definitely not my thing. I love my job."

  Matt looked as impressed as Warren.

  "I didn't think you company was this big!" he admitted admiringly.

  "Yeah, well, I know you're a lawyer, but I need a new assistant, would you or Diane like to apply?"

  "I'm sorry, Carl, but we live on the other side of town and we have kids..."

  Next was Pamela who was very happy to be back in his office alone.

  "I know you're a great photographer, but if you could recommend someone for the post of personal assistant..."

  "Oh, I thought you called me because you missed me," she said, disappointed.

  He smiled at her pout. "Pam, I don't have time to play. I need a new assistant now."

  She shrugged. "Sorry. Can't help you."