Suburban Dangers

by Megan Whitson Lee

  Tyler winced at the thought that in a few years he might look just as used up and exhausted.

  John looked down at his desk as he talked, and Tyler stared at the bald spot on the top of the man’s head. “Look, um, I don’t want to scare you just yet, but there is the possibility we may not get funding for this task.”

  “What does that mean?” Tyler knew very well what it meant.

  John took a deep breath. “It means if the funding doesn’t come through—if the client goes in a different direction—then we’ll be moved to a different task, or there’ll be lay-offs.”

  “I see.”

  “We’ll do what we can, of course. We’ll try to shuffle things around. You never know. We might still get funding, so don’t despair yet.”

  “I won’t.” He should feel shocked or angry or scared, but surprisingly, none of these applied to the numbness inside his heart. Nope. Nothing. No sadness, no regret. Staring down the barrel of a potential layoff, Tyler enjoyed a surreal sense of excitement and relief. If he lost his job, he’d be free from this laborious work. Of course, that would mean he was out of a job, which presented all sorts of other problems. Still, he couldn’t help it. The idea of never having to set foot inside the CEF building again was appealing. He walked back to his office to grab his stuff.

  Tara Pickard returned to the edge of his cubicle looking as fresh and adorable as she had earlier that morning. “I thought you were leaving.”

  “I was. I got waylaid.”

  “You know, I was thinking,” She twirled around the post on the side of his cubicle. “I was thinking of playing racquetball this afternoon, but…”

  Tyler sat back in his chair and watched her with amusement. “Yes?”

  “I may forfeit my personal fitness regime today for an early drink at 1482. It’s been a tough day. What about you?”

  “Wow. Well, that’s a departure from your original plan. Sounds like a better one.”

  “I think so.”

  “Are you asking me how my day was, or are you asking if I’m going to 1482?”

  “Both, I guess.”

  He took a deep breath. He really needed to be on that three forty-five Metro. He usually worked six thirty to three thirty, and if he was lucky, he could make it home by four thirty. It was three now. If he went with Tara, he wouldn’t be home until much later. He’d have to lie and say he was working late. “I don’t know, Tara.”

  “Raj is willing to go along…if you need a chaperone.” She smiled.

  “Well, OK.” His resolve caved. “If Raj is coming then maybe I’ll join you.” It seemed safe enough. He texted Lana that he had to work late and would be having dinner with Raj. It was partly true, but it was still a lie of sorts. Just as he pressed Send, his cell phone rang. His ex-wife’s name appeared on the display. Christina. She was the last person he wanted to talk to right now. He clicked Decline.

  ~*~

  The place was packed with after-work diners, and with over an hour’s wait to get a table, the trio opted to sit at the bar. Raj Khan loved to talk to anyone. He talked to the hostess, the waitress, the guy sitting next to him, the guy sitting next to the guy sitting next to him. One question set Raj off on a conversational tear—his Indian accent more pronounced. “Yes, we all work together at CEF. Do you know CEF?”

  “No,” the server said as she rinsed out a pint glass. She looked a bit jaded—as though she’d been bartending a few too many years beyond her target career-switch date. “But let me guess. Government contracting?”

  “That’s right. How did you know?”

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Because all that ever comes in here are you contractor types. You want another hot tea?”

  “No. One hot tea and a cheeseburger is enough for me. I have to get home to my wife and three children. And she’s pregnant again, so soon we’ll have four.”

  “Congratulations,” she deadpanned before moving to another customer on the other end of the bar.

  “Wow! I didn’t know, Raj! That’s great!” Tara patted his arm, her smile warm and dimpled.

  “I didn’t know that either, Raj,” Tyler said. “Wonderful news.”

  Raj beamed as he held his cup and moved it in a circle, sloshing the remaining tea around inside. “Yes, it is good news. I haven’t told many people.”

  “Was it planned?” Tara asked.

  The uninhibited tongue of youth. They said anything they wanted and everyone just chalked it up to their stage in life, along with a lack of understanding and life experience. He felt as if he lived in a world—at home, at church—where no one actually said what they thought or felt.

  “Yes, it was planned. All of our children are planned—even if we didn’t plan them. Because God did.”

  “Oh.” Tara took a sip of her drink. She obviously didn’t know how to respond to that.

  Raj winked at Tyler. “God has told my wife that we will have six children.”

  “Six?” Tara gasped, nearly choking on her wine.

  “Yes, six.”

  “How can you afford that?” Her voice reflected the horror in her expression.

  “We don’t worry.” Raj smiled. “We know the Lord will provide. He has so far. Children are a gift from God. Don’t you think, Tyler?”

  Tyler looked up from toying with the edge of a napkin. “Hmm? I’m sorry. What?”

  “I was just saying to Tara that children are always a blessing. Don’t you agree?”

  “Oh, yeah—yeah. A blessing. Yeah.”

  “You have four of them, don’t you?” Raj asked.

  Tyler shrank a little with the reminder. “Um…yeah.”

  “So you know it. The blessing of children. The more children, the more blessing,” Raj proclaimed.

  Tyler nodded, hoping for a change of subject. He didn’t want to talk about the blessing of children. He’d been enjoying this time of separation from his family. He wanted to marinate in that feeling for a little while.

  Tara grimaced. “I guess so. I mean, maybe one or two blessings—but six?”

  “And if the Lord tells us there should be more, then there will be!” Raj’s phone buzzed against the wood of the bar top, and he snapped it up. He placed it against his ear while he held his other ear closed. “Yes? Snehali? What is it?”

  Tara threw a shy glance in Tyler’s direction. His stomach muscles clenched as he returned the smile.

  “Oh yes. Yes, I’ll be home right away. Should I stop and get anything on my way?” Even with the restaurant noise around them, Snehali’s voice buzzed from the earpiece of the phone. “OK. Yes. Children’s flu medicine. Right now. I’m leaving right now.” Raj clicked off the phone and began to gather his things.

  “What’s wrong?” Tara asked.

  “Manpreet, our youngest, is ill. She has a fever. I need to get home right away.”

  “I hope everything’s all right,” Tara said.

  “Oh, yes, it will be. I just need to get the medicine to her. Good night. I’ll see you both Monday.”

  “See you Monday, Raj.” Tara smiled and waved.

  A breeze of anxiety fanned over him at the prospect of being alone with Tara. Maybe he could just leave with Raj. “Do you need any help?”

  Raj waved his hand. “No, no. It’s fine. I’ve got my car. Thank you and God bless you both. See you Monday, God willing!”

  Left in the hands of his captor.

  Tara turned to him, her green eyes flashing. “So, here we are. All alone.”

  ~*~

  Tyler hadn’t meant to spend two hours with Tara at 1482. Time had somehow slipped by and so had the number of drinks. He’d only meant to have one beer, but he’d ordered a second. The gold, bubbly beverage sat before him. Should he drink it? One was usually his limit. He really needed to catch the Metro. But on the other hand, he was really enjoying himself.

  “I’m from Connecticut. Grew up in New Haven, attended University of Connecticut, and moved down to Northern Virginia because the job opportunities were g
ood,” Tara said. “My options were limited in New Haven. I could’ve married a friend of my father’s, I could’ve gone to Europe for grad school, or there may have been an internship at the university. But I wanted to be where the action was, you know?”

  He did know. He’d once wanted action and excitement and fulfillment. But then he’d met Lana.

  She didn’t wait for an answer. “So, how long have you and your wife been married?”

  Wife. For a moment, he’d forgotten he had one. “Let’s see. I think we’ve—”

  “You think?” She laughed with a loud cackle, grabbing his forearm. “Don’t you know?”

  He laughed. “No, I know. I know. It’s been over ten years.”

  “Wow!” Her eyes were wide. “That’s a really long time.”

  The words spilled off his tongue: “It feels like it’s been longer.”

  She jumped on it, snatching the opportunity and running with it. “Really? Why? Aren’t you happy?”

  Warnings from the pulpit chanted. Don’t discuss problems in your marriage with the opposite sex. Don’t allow yourself to be alone with members of the opposite sex.

  But Tara was persuasive. “Come on. You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone. I mean, who would I tell?”

  Tyler signaled to the server. “My check, please.”

  Tara’s stool squeaked against the hardwood as she sidled closer. She placed her well-toned arm on the bar top, and settled her pretty, pointed chin into the juncture between her knuckles. “Tell Tara,” she purred.

  Some of Tyler’s discomfort was buffered by rationalization. He chuckled a little as he thought that maybe he could help her—sort of like telling her a cautionary tale. Maybe he could prevent her from making the same mistakes he’d made out of a false sense of obligation or expectation. “When I met Lana we were in our late twenties. I was coming out of a bad first marriage, and Lana was just gorgeous.”

  “How old was she?” Tara interrupted.

  “I don’t know. Maybe twenty-seven, something like that. Anyway, she was an actress, and she’d wanted to go to Hollywood and have a career out there. I talked her out of it, I guess.”

  “So what happened?” Tara seemed to be nearly salivating. “Why aren’t you happy now?”

  Tyler sighed, his shoulders dropping. “I don’t know. Life happened. No relationship is happy all of the time.”

  “I think it can be. If you’re with the right person.”

  Tyler recognized her seductive expression—the pouting lips, the strategically lowered eyes. He looked away. “Not even if you’re with the right person. That’s the problem with human relationships. At some point, they always sour.”

  “You wanna get out of here?” She ran the tip of her pointer finger over the top of his hand resting on the bar. “Get some more drinks at my place?”

  A battle raged within him. One part of his heart and head were horrified, the other segments were attracted, intrigued, filled with longing… “No,” he said quickly. He looked down at the remainder of his beer. “I need to catch the Metro and get home.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Tyler’s cell phone vibrated against the bar top. Turning it over, he spotted Lana’s name on the screen. He smiled up at Tara, coming back to earth and his responsibilities. “Yes, I’m sure. I need to get home.”

  ~*~

  While riding the Metro home that evening, Tyler broke out in a cold, sweaty nausea. Shame flooded over him. Just like when he looked at websites he knew he shouldn’t. Very Nude Girls, Young and Fresh, and Hot Porn on Tap were some of his favorite sites, and he was viewing them more and more frequently, despite the side effects of guilt and anger. The high was sometimes worth it. At least tonight he hadn’t done anything really stupid. Looking at pictures was one thing, but it wasn’t as bad as an actual affair.

  As the Metro announced its entrance into Reston’s Station, Tyler’s mood nose-dived. Soon he would be home with his wife and kids. He retrieved his car and drove the ten minutes it took to get home. He still felt guilty as he pulled into the driveway and sat staring at the windows with dimmed lights glowing just beyond. It was late—just after seven thirty. The kids were probably in bed, and Lana was probably in the den, or maybe in their bedroom watching television.

  He breathed into his cupped hands and to check how badly his breath reeked of alcohol. Popping a piece of gum into his mouth, he chawed it for several minutes before finally opening the door and making his way up the sidewalk.

  Lana opened the door before he fumbled his keys out of his pocket. Usually clad in jeans or sweats and a stained T-shirt, her hair pulled severely into a ponytail or a bun, Lana looked different. She wore a long, black dress, accented with a red, form-fitting cardigan sweater that matched the lipstick she’d applied. Her blonde hair was loose, and it looked as though she might have spent some time styling it. But the most perplexing part of it all was her smile. He hardly ever saw her smile anymore.

  “What’s going on?”

  She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside.

  In the foyer, she pressed herself against him, kissing him as she hadn’t done in ages. He was so shocked he didn’t know what to say. He looked around, expecting to see the children running wild and Brandon glued to the television playing video games. But all of the lights in the house were off except for some dim lighting in the den, illuminated by candles and the smell of some kind of scented oil.

  “What’s going on?” A slight laugh broke his voice. “Where are the kids? Where’re Brandon and Katherine?”

  “The kids are in bed already.” Lana led him into the fragrant, flickering room. “Brandon stayed at his mom’s. Katherine’s out with some friends.”

  “Oh.” Where was all this going?

  Lana sat down on the edge of the couch and pulled him down beside her, where two glasses of champagne sat on the coffee table. He couldn’t possibly drink another thing.

  “Tyler, I owe you an apology for the way I’ve been lately. I’ve been stressed out and completely absorbed with the kids, and I know I’ve treated you really badly. I’m sorry.”

  Tyler stared at her, unsure what to make of this moment of contrite humility from his wife. “OK. It’s OK. I know I’ve been a pain lately, too.”

  “I think it’s this area, Tyler.”

  “This area?”

  “Yeah. I mean, look at everyone around us. Everyone is just running around all of the time—rushing here and there—trying to keep up with everyone else. Trying to make enough, do enough to keep up with—”

  “Don’t say ‘the Joneses’. That’s us.” Tyler laughed.

  She laughed as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever said. “No, I was just going to say I think we need a change. We should get out of here while we can. I mean, is there anything really holding us here?”

  Who is this woman? Lana spoke in fast and furious phrases—almost manic—the way his ex-wife used to chatter when she was riding the crest of the upward swing of her bipolar disorder.

  Tyler shifted in his seat. “Let’s see. We have a house. I have a job. We have four kids in school—”

  “Yeah, but, the job could change, the house could change, and the kids could change schools. Nothing is written in stone, right?”

  “I guess I don’t get where all of this is coming from or why. What’s suddenly making you want to move?”

  “Do you remember my friend Erin? Erin Mullins? I used to go to school with her?”

  Tyler shook his head. Lana had so few friends—just Molly, and Suzanne from across the street, and a handful of friends from college, all of whom lived elsewhere. He didn’t remember ever hearing the name Erin Mullins.

  Lana rushed on, telling him about Erin’s talent agency and the possibility of working for them in Santa Monica.

  “Santa Monica?” Tyler drew back. “That’s—that’s California.”

  Lana stood up suddenly, pacing up and down the length of the living room as though making an opening statement to a j
ury. “Yeah—so? We’ve talked a hundred times about moving somewhere close to the beach—somewhere where it’s sunny and more laid back.”

  “When we retire. Not right now.”

  “Why not right now? I mean, why wait until we’re too old to enjoy it? Let’s do it now. Why should we feel shackled to the Northern Virginia grind and all of the pretenses that come along with it?” Her voice was controlled, but a current of excitement rang out underneath the calm.

  “I don’t know, Lana—I guess a little something called money? I mean, what would I do in Santa Monica?”

  She stopped pacing, spreading her hands out. “You’d find a job.”

  Tyler scoffed. “Come on. This is silly.”

  “Or you could finally start your own business—just like your father always wanted you to do. You could finally make him proud…and yourself happy.”

  Her words jabbed at that soft spot right in the middle of his heart that longed for his father’s approval. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

  “A long time. And I know it sounds crazy, but I really think we could do it. It would be a fresh start for us, and we could both feel as though we’re doing something worthwhile for a change.”

  “Raising our kids isn’t worthwhile to you?”

  A storm cloud blew over her face, dulling the expression. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “You know, Lana, if you want a job we could work something out.”

  “I don’t want a job here. What could I do here? I could maybe be a substitute teacher or go work for a temp agency or something. Erin’s offering me a real chance at a job I’d love to do. And there’s something else.”

  “What?” Tyler braced himself.

  “She wants me to come out at the end of the month for a formal interview.”

  “To Santa Monica?”

  “Yes.”

  His head was spinning. Something about Lana’s idea was enticing, despite the craziness of dropping everything and relocating to California. It was true they’d talked about moving to a sunnier spot over the years. On more than one occasion, Tyler had wanted to quit his job, jump in the car, and drive toward the sun, wherever it took him. Only his obligations and responsibilities held him here. And now his wife was giving him permission to shrug off all of that, throw caution to the wind, and break out of the model of expectations and societal pressures. “You know,” he said. “John told me today the task may not get the funding to continue.”