Pink Slips and Glass Slippers

by J. P. Hansen

  “Are you on a secure line?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I have some good news and some bad news.”

  “Go on.” Chase hoped Max didn’t say which one you wanna hear first?

  “Well, the good news first. Your little Heather surfaced.”

  Chase gulped and the words struck like a sucker punch. Though he had been searching for her for so long, hearing the news brought a wave of apprehension. Life had become easier with her gone. Now that she surfaced, the game changed. And Chase’s risks ran high. “Where is she?”

  “I got this second hand, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s accurate…” Max paused for effect, Chase held his breath. “She’s in Minneapolis.”

  “That makes sense,” Chase exhaled, “Hazelden’s in Minnesota and I think she had a cousin in the twin cities area.”

  “Not so fast, Chief. I haven’t told you the bad news.”

  “What’s that?”

  “She’s shacked up with some low life scumbag in a not so nice area.”

  “She has a boyfriend? Are you sure?”

  “Like I said, I’m ninety-nine percent sure, but I’m only one-hundred percent if I see it with my own eyes. Unless you wanna fly my ass from New York to Minneapolis—”

  “It doesn’t sound like that would be necessary. What do you have on this guy?”

  “You don’t wanna know.”

  “You’re talking about my wife. This information is exactly what I need to end this marriage once and for all. Don’t worry, I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

  “From what I hear, this guy’s lucky he’s still walkin’. About a year ago, he crossed the wrong person, and his enemy list is impressive.”

  “Drugs?”

  “Bingo! He got busted dealin’ meth and did time. He’s gotten into other shit too, but he’s a small time punk.”

  “Well, there’s nothing I can do on my end. It’s her life. Or death, in her case. After all I provided, I can’t believe she’d just throw it all away like this.”

  “She’s a junkie my friend. And junkies do crazy shit.”

  “Well, keep an eye on her. She tried to call Parker once and gave my housekeeper a hard time, but for now, the only threat is to herself.”

  “Hey, for what it’s worth, my friend, you don’t deserve this. I’m sorry you gotta go through this. I know it’s hard, believe me, I know. I’ll keep an eye on her for you but try to forget about her.” Max’s forget about her blended into one word.

  Chase set the receiver back on the hook and stared at his wall. Not the pictures with former presidents, not the Coach K memorabilia. The blank wall. His eyes blurred—not from tears, he was past that—from shock. As the words hit like a punching bag, he felt like he was having an out-of-body experience. In Hell. Max reinforced his gravest fears.

  He recalled the day his life fell apart. First, the call from Mary, Parker’s best friend’s mom, wondering where Heather was, and why she didn’t answer her cell. It wasn’t like Heather to be late. Chase knew better. He’d discerned her erratic behavior, listened to her rant and rave about small things, and observed how she coped—by popping pills. Then, racing home, his intuition screamed trouble. Noticing her car in the driveway, he feared the worst. While yelling her name to the empty house, he ran upstairs. There she was—comatose, sprawled out on the bed with a note next to her. The paramedics told Chase that if he’d gotten there an hour later, she would be dead. In many ways, she did die that day.

  Beyond the bottle of sleeping pills she swallowed, Heather’s blood work revealed how deeply her addictions extended—Vicodin, OxyContin (“hillbilly heroin”), Demerol, Percocet, Stabilitas, and Cocaine. But, the most damning drug was the trace of Stabilitas. The media would have a field day with that one. He could picture all the talking heads declaring that the new age anti-depressant caused suicide—even for the CEO’s wife. Fortunately, he knew the right people who squashed the information before it landed on the front page or became the top news story. And, so far, he had managed to keep his pending divorce private.

  Being forced to live two lives tore at him. All the cover-ups to deceive the public. Lying about the divorce to maintain that good bible-belt image—and his job. Lying to his son about where mommy is. Lying to himself. His conscience tore at him. Chase loved Parker and turned his full attention to his son. He enjoyed tossing a ball back and forth, wrestling on the family room rug, and reading him bedtime stories. But, he missed going on a romantic date, sharing his love, his passion. He accepted his fate that he couldn’t date while living his lie; even though he had every reason, he still felt guilty and hesitant about divorcing Heather.

  Hearing Max describe Heather’s new life tore Chase apart. The woman he loved with all his heart and soul—the mother of his child—was a junkie all along. Maybe I should have been there for her? I placed my job ahead of her. Were there signs of her illness, but I was too wrapped up in me to notice? And, the realization stung—she wasn’t coming back; his life would never be what he wanted it to be. He felt like a modern – day Job from the Bible, guessing his suffering would pale in comparison.

  And now, Brooke Hart popped into his life—literally. Convinced everything happened for a reason, Chase didn’t believe in coincidences. He had been awakening in the middle of the night wondering why Brooke entered the picture. She came into my life for a reason, he kept thinking, but why now? Since his dream, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. He wanted to know everything about her, to share life: running together, walking the beach hand in hand, enjoying a romantic candle – lit dinner, serenading her with his guitar, and to awaken to her natural beauty at sunrise. But, he realized he couldn’t, thanks to his double life.

  Chapter 8

  The vice grip on Chase’s temples tightened. He was beat and it had nothing to do with the pressures of the job. Usually, he turned to a round of golf or a vigorous run—without Duke. But, today he decided he’d do something different. Glancing at his Omega watch, he decided he’d surprise him. Chase tossed the clutter from his in tray into his briefcase, grabbed his suit coat, and darted past Ruth. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Ruth raised her eyebrow. Chase didn’t have any scheduled meetings and he wasn’t traveling anywhere. She sensed something bothered him. Though she wanted to pry, she decided not to ask why he was leaving early. She realized her job description—the unwritten one—meant protecting him at all times. From the tidbits of information she’d overheard, she felt for Chase. She observed he had aged more than a U.S. President during the past year and she realized it wasn’t from work.

  Outside, Chase fired up the beemer, then pressed speed dial two on his cell.

  “Hello, Mr. Allman, I mean Chase, is that you?” Oksana sounded surprised.

  “I’ve got good news for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m giving you the rest of the day off.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m more than okay. I’m on my way to Angel Academy. I get to pick up my son and spend the rest of the day with him.”

  “Oh, Parker’ll be thrilled to see you. He keeps talking about how you’re going to take him deep sea fishing.”

  “Well, not fishing today, but we’ll do something fun. I’ve been so busy lately, I think we’re due for some father-son stuff. I might take him mini golfing.”

  “He’ll love that. You want me to call Mrs. Stanton?”

  “No, Betsy will remember me. I want to surprise the little guy. I love seeing Parker’s eyes light up when he sees me.”

  “Oh, you know he will. Want me to make you a dinner tonight?”

  “No, I’m taking him out to Chuck E. Cheese or wherever he wants. You take the rest of the day off. Go treat your boyfriend to a nice dinner and use my charge card.”

  Oksana giggled. Chase knew she adored Parker and relished the role of housekeeper and part-time chef. He made her feel like a family member, and awarded her time off when she may not have needed
it. “Thank you. Tell Parker I’ll see him tomorrow morning.”

  Set on a peaceful wooded lot in an upscale area, just a few miles from Chase’s house, the entrance sign read: “Angel Academy Learning Center…Where Young Minds Grow.” After Heather fled, it served as the answer to Chase’s prayers. He feared leaving his son in typical daycare, where the kids cry in a sound-proof room while the adults plopped down in their own area, eating donuts and gossiping. Angel Academy was the exact opposite, thanks to owner Betsy Stanton. She exuded a grandmotherly air. The kids loved and respected her and the other teachers, and the center provided a safe and enriching environment. Betsy read stories and occasionally made up her own. The kids looked forward to going to preschool and never wanted to leave. It was exactly what Parker needed, and Chase felt better knowing his son was happy there.

  Pulling his beemer into the parking lot, Chase couldn’t remember the last time he’d picked up Parker. He was excited to surprise his little guy and hoped Betsy didn’t mind him arriving a half hour early. Pulling the front door open, he marveled at how quiet it was inside. He guessed the kids were playing out back on the jungle gyms. The reception desk was vacant, so he entered his code in the keypad and advanced toward the main room.

  He faintly heard Betsy’s voice through the door. He opened the door and realized it was story time. All the kids were sitting in a semi-circle on the floor in front of Betsy. He spotted Parker’s curly head, seated front and center, and smiled. A chip off the old block. He hated to interrupt, so he just stood in the back listening. Her calming voice captivated the kids. He wished more teachers could teach like her. Without a book, Betsy was telling a story about dragons and elves. He listened, not wanting to interrupt, and enjoyed watching the children and Betsy’s animation as she told the story. When she spotted him over her wire-rim glasses, Betsy paused, smiled, and said, “Parker, I think you have a special visitor.”

  Parker turned and his eyes lit up, “Daddy!” He glanced back at Mrs. Stanton with adorable puppy eyes. When she nodded, Parker jumped up and darted to his father’s outstretched arms. As other kids began rumbling, Betsy said, “Story time isn’t over yet.” It was all she needed to say. She held court without raising her voice and in an instant, the room of twenty or so kids fixed their gazes back on her. Chase marveled at her uncanny ability to hush a bunch of three and four year-olds. He wanted to bring her to his next board meeting.

  Holding Parker in one arm, Chase waved to Betsy with the other, marveling at how much he’d grown just in the last couple of weeks.

  “Where’s Oksana?” Parker asked. Chase lifted his free hand and crossed his forefinger over his lips, then lowered the hand to open the door. “Shhhh. Let’s not disturb story time, son.”

  Once outside, he said, “I wanted to pick you up today.”

  “Yippee! Can we go shark fishing? Can we, Daddy?” Parker’s brown eyes with hazel flecks lit up as he spoke. Chase melted.

  “Not today. That’s for a weekend when we have a full day.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “Absolutely, I already talked to the captain of the boat and he says he’ll take us where all the sharks are.”

  “Are there any dragons?”

  “No, I think dragons are only on land.”

  “Nah ah. Dragons are in the water and they breathe fire out of their mouths. And, only the elves are safe from them.”

  Chase thought, oh to be young and to believe in dragons and elves, Santa, Easter Bunnies, and Tooth Fairies. Rather than dispelling the myths—and facing the wrath of Betsy for spoiling her story—Chase shifted gears. “You wanna play minigolf?”

  “Can we?” After drawing a big nod from Chase, Parker said, “Yayyyyyy!”

  “And maybe afterwards, we can go to Chuck E. Cheese.”

  “What about Oksana?” Parker’s expression shifted to concern.

  “Nope, I gave her the night off. Just you and me kiddo.”

  “Will she be back?” Parker asked.

  “Of course. Oksana said to say ‘hi’ and she’ll see you for breakfast.”

  Though the heat index dictated air conditioning, Parker insisted they drive with the top down. Chase played his mp3 file named “Parker Tunes” on the stereo, drawing a beaming smile from his energetic son. “Shake my Sillies Out,” and “Baby Beluga” were quite a departure from classic rock but the silly sing-a-long with Parker was just what Chase needed. He didn’t realize how uptight he felt until he sang, “I gotta shake, shake, shake my sillies out, and wiggle my waggles away.” Chase occasionally listened to Raffi when driving alone to remind him of his son—and to lighten up his mood, but nothing beat the real thing. Moments like this were father – son bliss.

  Parker wanted to play mini-golf at Pirate’s Cove, a miniature golf treasure that offered two eighteen hole challenges. Parker chose the Blackbeard course, because it went through a cave. Fortunately, majestic oaks and mist machines made the outdoor activity tolerable on a hot day. Stepping foot on the grounds, hokey pirate themes abounded. Parker mimicked his dad’s putting touch and actually did well for a three-year-old. He made a hole-in-one and his joyful squeal stopped time. Chase marveled at Parker’s hand eye coordination, wondering if he might be golf’s next child prodigy. Though Chase had an opportunity to earn a living teaching golf, he chose a different path. The corporate world paid off well, but it had its own hazards.

  After their golf balls were swallowed by the last hole in the course, they relaxed together sipping root beer next to the big pirate ship.

  The root beer hit the spot, but spoiled Parker’s appetite. Chase needed another activity to entertain his son before dinner. Too blistering hot to play catch, especially in wool dress slacks, he remembered the two bags of stale bread in the trunk. Perfect.

  “What are we going to do now? Can we go shark fishing?”

  “I told you we need a full day to go fishing, but I’ve got something I know you’ll love.”

  “What is it? What is it?”

  Chase realized he made a serious parental faux pas, opening the can of worms too early. Parker played the guessing game for the duration of the drive. Even flipping on the next Raffi song didn’t help. Chase finally pulled off to a gravel parking spot next to the pond. Parker said, “Can we feed the turtles?”

  “Yep. I’ve got some turtle food in my trunk.”

  “Can I feed ‘em?”

  “Absolutely.” Chase popped the trunk and handed Parker the bag of bread; they headed to a big rock on the water’s edge. Parker wound up and threw the first bread piece as far as he could. Seconds later, a couple of turtles surrounded the floating bread like sharks on a wounded seal. Several turtles floated toward the ripple like magnetized toy boats. Parker enthusiastically pointed out the biggest turtle. Chase grinned.

  The turtle feed lasted for close to thirty minutes. An alligator that had been sunning itself on the far banks splashed into the water and, in a slow but deliberate motion, headed toward their feeding area. Game over. Parker protested, but “Don’t Feed the Alligators” was one rule Chase would never bend.

  Hand in hand, they bee-lined back to the car and jumped in. “Can we watch him from the car, daddy?”

  “I guess so, but if he gets too close, we’re outta here.”

  “Yippee.” Ah, the simple things, Chase thought. Who needs to take their kid to Disney World for a good time?

  After a few minutes of slowly floating in the middle of the pond, the alligator’s curiosity waned and it retreated to the other side, out of view. “You hungry for some dinner, buddy?”

  “Can we still go to Chuck E. Cheese?”

  “Sure, whatever you want.”

  “I like this. Can we do it tomorrow?”

  “No, this is a special treat, son. I have to work. That’s why Oksana usually picks you up from Angel Academy. I’m glad I could surprise you today, though.”

  “Me too.”

  The Chuck E. Cheese was located on Mayfair Street, about twenty minutes away.
Chase flipped on “Parker Tunes” again and father – son sang, “More We Get Together,” “Down By The Bay,” and “I Wonder If I’m Growing.” Pulling into the parking lot of minivans and SUVs, the sleek BMW turned a few soccer moms’ heads. Parker wanted pizza but Chase couldn’t stomach it. He opted for the healthiest thing on the menu: the salad bar. He ordered Parker a six inch cheese pizza and a soda. Surrounded by moms and dads seated with their children, Chase and Parker ate in silence. After finishing half a slice and two sips of soda, Parker said, “I’m full.” Typical.

  Chase had only finished half of his salad, but could part ways without remorse. “You want a Cinnamon Stick?”

  “No, I’m full.” Chase nodded then chomped one more bite. Still chewing, he stood to leave.

  “I miss mommy.” Parker’s simple statement hit Chase like a drive-by shooting, causing him to choke on the remnants of his iceberg lettuce.

  Chase gulped, then said, “I know you do, son. I do too.”

  “Is mommy ever coming back from her trip?”

  It had been almost a year since Heather deserted her son without so much as a call. Chase despised lying to Parker, even if it was for his own good. Max’s words resonated inside as Chase’s usually lucid mind went haywire. What could he say? Parker believed in dragons and elves, but somehow, seemed to figure out his mommy’s return was a myth. It was time.

  Chase drew a deep breath, then said, “Buddy, I’m not sure. Your mommy’s sick and needs to keep going to different doctors.”

  “When’s she gonna get better?”

  “I don’t know, son. I don’t know.” Chase glanced away, eyes stinging. He rubbed his eyes, brooding, then regained his composure. He said, “We’ll say a prayer for her tonight. Which reminds me, we better head back home, mister. It’s going to be your bedtime soon.”

  The question dampened a great day like raindrops on a beach. Even Raffi couldn’t ease the heaviness in Parker’s heart. Chase sensed Parker was confused about things. Parker liked Oksana and, in many ways, treated the affable nanny like a mother; but Chase realized there was no substitute for his mommy. Now that Heather was trying to call, he wondered why. What could she possibly say to her son? Life would never be back to normal for Parker and it sickened Chase more than the deception.