Between These Walls

by John Herrick

  Now Wayne shifted in his seat, crossing his arms across his chest, but remaining relaxed. “Well, that was a major client acquisition, and as you mentioned, you had hit a bump. There’s a time for risk, and we couldn’t afford to take a chance, given the environment we’ve faced.”

  “Actually,” Hunter said, “that brings up another concern I had. Well, I don’t know if concern is the right word, but … specific clients aside, the economy has hit another downturn. Companies are hawkish about their bottom lines—”

  “That’s for sure,” Wayne chuckled.

  “So they’ve cut back on what they might consider extras, the nice-to-haves. In talking to other sales people, we’ve all seen clients choosing their own in-house data maintenance over our software. It’s more weight on their shoulders and higher staff costs, but they believe they’ll see a net cost savings.”

  “You’re right, I’ve seen the same thing. It’s a challenge to convince them otherwise.”

  “This year, more and more of them have opted to terminate their contracts rather than renew.”

  Wayne nodded in concurrence. Hunter focused tighter on Wayne’s face. Without intending to, Hunter lowered his voice a notch.

  “That’s started rumors of layoffs here. Just through the grapevine—you know how that goes.”

  Wayne blinked, then clasped his hands on his desk.

  Hunter opened his mouth to speak further, then abandoned the words. He took a breather, tensed his jaw line, and leaned forward.

  “I’m not sure how to ask this, so I’ll just cut to the chase.” Looking Wayne straight in the eye, he asked, “Wayne, do I need to be concerned about my job?”

  Wayne’s body grew rigid in his seat. “Concerned about …”

  “About losing it.”

  “We’ve had no layoffs among our sales team.” Wayne’s poker face remained intact.

  Wayne’s reply did nothing to ease Hunter’s doubt. Hunter had learned to read between the lines. He knew from dealing with clients that, oftentimes, what a person didn’t say held as many clues as what he did say.

  What Wayne had said was accurate: No layoffs had occurred. But Hunter noticed Wayne had kept his response in the past tense. He’d said nothing about the future.

  “Well, no, nothing has happened as of today,” Hunter said, treading with caution once again, “but what does the future look like? Has word come down about any options the company might be considering?”

  Wayne stroked his goatee with his thumb. “I’ve received no instructions to implement any layoffs.”

  I realize that, Hunter wanted to say. Technically that’s true, but what else do you know? What else is running through your mind?

  That poker face had begun to make Hunter uneasy. He could tell Wayne knew more than he had revealed, but didn’t want to tell anyone. Clearly, Hunter’s question had caught him off guard, as if he’d asked something about which Wayne hadn’t had time in advance to construct a boilerplate answer.

  “Okay. It just seems—”

  “Hunter, you’re doing your absolute best, right?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Then worrying won’t do any good. Things have a way of falling into place, don’t they?” Wayne shrugged. “Sometimes in unexpected ways.”

  Beneath the table, Hunter cracked a knuckle.

  CHAPTER 14

  Hunter still didn’t have firm answers regarding his job security. Then again, maybe Wayne had given a straightforward response. Perhaps the guy didn’t know anything. Not only was Hunter concerned about himself, he didn’t want to see his coworkers in danger, either.

  Though disappointed by a lack of answers, Hunter’s Tuesday improved by evening: Gabe had stopped by to hang out. With Kara out of town again, Hunter was glad to have company. Otherwise, he would have grown preoccupied with apprehension about his job to the point of ruining his evening. He knew he should trust God to take care of his future, but Hunter recognized that as yet another growth area for himself.

  Hunter and Gabe had decided to grill burgers on Hunter’s patio. On his way over, Gabe had stopped by the grocery store to pick up ground beef, along with a salad in a bag. The flames glowed with bright orange fervor on the grill as the evening sky transitioned to a mystic blue. Hunter’s arms bristled at the chill in the October air, and as he reached across the grill to flip the burgers, the heat of the dancing flames ushered forth memories of bonfires. He set the spatula aside while the burgers sizzled.

  Gabe moved toward the grill and let his hands hover over the top to warm himself. “Now I understand why you assumed the role of flipping burgers: to avoid the chills. I’m such a sucker.”

  “By all means, look like a fool and spread your hands over the barbecue grill,” Hunter snickered.

  “You never know if this’ll be your last chance to grill outside while it’s halfway comfortable.” Gabe readjusted his jacket, pulling the sleeves over his wrists. “They’re talking snow flurries overnight next week.”

  “What do you mean, ‘our last chance?’ You can grill in the middle of winter if you want to.”

  “Sorry, I don’t dress in layers to cook.” Gabe grabbed the metal spatula Hunter had set aside and shifted the burgers at an angle to accent them with crisscrossed grill marks.

  Hunter felt his cell phone vibrate with a single pulse. He retrieved it from his pocket.

  “It’s a text message from Kara. I’ll send her a quick reply.” Holding the phone in both hands, he thumbed his way through a response and sent it on its way.

  “Long-distance relationships.” Gabe grinned.

  “You’re close,” Hunter replied. “Texting is the main way we keep in touch these days. If she’s in New York, phone calls work fine. But if she’s in another country, factor all those time zones into her schedule and calling is no longer feasible. If she’s in Hong Kong, she’s eating lunch while we’re asleep here.”

  Hunter gave the burgers a final check, judged them fully cooked, and started transferring them to a plate. Gabe turned off the propane tank.

  “Did you talk to your boss?” Gabe asked. “I didn’t know if you’d planned to do that today or not.”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “Let’s put it this way: Wayne and I talked. That much got accomplished.”

  “But no answers?”

  “I have trouble reading him to begin with. He doesn’t give any hints about what’s going through his head. No facial responses, nothing. Plus, he was evasive.”

  “He dodged the questions?”

  “More like he danced around them. He answered the questions I asked, but he picked his words in a way that told me things I already knew. ‘No one has lost their jobs.’ Well, of course not. But what about a month from now? They must know something. They don’t turn on a dime; they plan things out and weigh their options. That takes time, so I’m sure they know things in advance—maybe not far in advance, but they start thinking about what-ifs.”

  Hunter put the last burger patty on the plate and led the way inside, where he and Gabe assembled a couple of burgers each, then added their side salads.

  Hunter headed toward his living room and sat down on the sofa. Grabbing the remote, he turned on the television, then noticed Gabe standing beside the sofa, looking confused.

  “Is there any place you want us to put the plates? I wasn’t sure how you do things in your house.”

  Then it hit Hunter. “Oh geez, I headed in here out of habit! I tend to eat in front of the TV with the plate on my lap. Kara calls me a caveman. We can eat in the kitchen if you want, the way civilized people do.”

  Gabe laughed and took a seat. “No, that’s fine. I didn’t want to assume.”

  “You’re one of those sophisticated people who always eats at the kitchen table, aren’t you?” Hunter smirked.

  “Habit. What can I say?”

  Gabe sat down on the opposite side of the sofa, then caught himself losing his balance.

  “I forgot to me
ntion that cushion sinks in pretty deep,” Hunter said. “A buddy of mine used to plant himself there years ago and managed to get it screwed up. Obviously, you’re in a bachelor pad. It’s probably hard to eat like that, though.” Hunter motioned beside himself with his elbow. “Might be easier to eat if you sit on the middle cushion.”

  Gabe scooted over and settled within a few inches of Hunter. They set their beverages on the coffee table. As Gabe got himself situated, trying to grow accustomed to balancing the plate on his knees, Hunter couldn’t help but find the sight a bit humorous. Though a minor thing, Hunter considered what it said about Gabe: He seemed like such a nice guy, willing to make himself uncomfortable to meet somebody else halfway. For Hunter, it served as another example of why he found Gabe a refreshing change from other guys in his life.

  As Hunter opened his mouth to offer to pray, Gabe made the offer himself. They said a quick prayer of thanks over the meal, then took their first bites.

  “Do you follow sports at all?” Hunter asked, aiming the remote control at the television.

  “Not much, but go ahead and turn them on. It’ll be a good learning experience for me,” Gabe said in good humor.

  Hunter settled on a baseball game. “It’s post-season time in baseball. The playoffs are going on until it reaches the World Series.”

  “St. Louis at Atlanta?”

  “See? You know more than you thought you did.”

  “I read the graphics at the bottom of the screen.”

  “Well, duh! I guess that works, too.” Hunter crunched on a morsel of lettuce and swallowed. “What type of shows do you usually watch?”

  “If anything, I think I use the TV for background noise. Most of the time, I’ll turn on the news, or anything with comedy.” With a nod toward the game, Gabe asked, “Who do you expect to win?”

  “Atlanta has a better record, but a lot of pundits expect the Cardinals to win. The Cardinals seem to do their best when they’re underdogs. They had a relatively weak year in 2006, then went on to win the World Series, so anything goes. In a way, at playoff time, a whole new season begins, because both teams start with a zero record. Atlanta gets home-field advantage because it had the better regular-season record, but that means nothing if they don’t win.”

  “Too bad it’s not Cleveland instead of St. Louis, huh?”

  “Yeah, the Indians didn’t make it to post-season. We’re in the American League, though. This is a National League playoff game.”

  An Atlanta player walked up to home plate, loosened the muscles in his arms and neck, then took his stance to await the pitch.

  “So if St. Louis wins, what happens next?”

  “This is game two, and the first team to win three of five games moves on to the next playoff round. Atlanta won last night, so if they win again tonight, it eases the pressure on them. They’d only need one more win.” Hunter took his eyes off the screen and looked toward Gabe. “But if St. Louis wins tonight, they’re dead even, and then the two teams will need to slug it out for two more games, minimum.”

  At that, the sound of a cracking bat jerked Hunter and Gabe’s attention back to the television. The crowd roared. Hunter held his breath and waited for what looked like a home run in formation, then eased again when the ball hit the wall behind center field. Though the baseball player could have rounded to third by the time a St. Louis outfielder grabbed the ball, the player stopped running and backed up to second base.

  “What just happened?” Gabe said. “He could have made it to third base. Why did he stop?”

  “If it hits the back wall, it’s an automatic double. It’s a rule of the game.”

  Squinting at the game before him, Gabe chewed his burger slowly as he considered Hunter’s explanation, then shrugged. “Did you play any sports?”

  “As a matter of fact, I sacrificed a lucrative career in professional sports so I could sell software to those in need.”

  “Whatever. I meant back in the day—school stuff.”

  “I played baseball at Hudson.”

  “Were you good?”

  “I was decent. My brother was a lot better at it.” Hunter placed his empty dinner plate on the coffee table. “I ran cross-country, too.”

  “That must’ve been the crowd you ran around with, the athletes?”

  “Pretty much.” Hunter reflected on those former days and, almost to himself, said, “Teenage years are strange, aren’t they? The stuff that matters back then but makes no difference by the time you’re an adult. The weird thing was, despite running with that popular crowd and knowing some of them since I was little, I never felt like I fit in.”

  “Why do you think that was?”

  “I don’t know. We had similar interests. I tried to feel like I belonged, but the opposite always nagged at me.” Hunter considered it further, then added, “Actually, it wasn’t so much that I didn’t fit in. It was more like I never felt one hundred percent comfortable. Does that make any sense?”

  “More than you know.”

  They grew quiet for a few minutes as the next inning began. Both Hunter and Gabe grew engrossed in the game as the count alternated between balls and strikes, culminating in a full count.

  When the batter struck out, Gabe took the final bite of his dinner. Hunter eased forward with his right hand to grab his cola, unaware that Gabe had also reached forward with his left hand to put his plate on the coffee table.

  When their arms brushed, Hunter’s heart vibrated.

  The contact occurred quick and weightless. A chance encounter. The light hairs of Gabe’s arm swept against Hunter’s arm like the stroke of a feather. Hunter felt himself stir below the waist. Before he had time to blink, the moment had passed.

  Careful to act as though he hadn’t noticed, Hunter angled his head and peered out of the corner of his eye to see whether Gabe’s composure changed. Gabe appeared oblivious to the incident. Gabe didn’t add space between them, nor did he draw his arm closer to himself to prevent a future incident from occurring. He remained focused on the television. Hunter wondered if Gabe thought nothing of what had happened, or if he kept his composure guarded the way Hunter did. Then again, maybe Gabe hadn’t noticed their contact at all.

  For a few seconds, Hunter felt frustrated at the close call. While he dealt with this, fighting to cover up in such scenarios, other guys had the luxury of remaining carefree, plodding along without lending a another thought to the incident. Why him? Hunter shook his head, then caught himself and stopped.

  Hunter remained a tad stimulated below his waist and, though it felt subdued, he prayed it wasn’t visible to Gabe. It would be the kind of situation neither person would acknowledge, but both would feel awkward knowing what had happened. When he gathered the courage to assess his status, Hunter glimpsed his lap and, to his relief, discovered the stirring wasn’t strong enough to alter the topography of his jeans. Plus, he noticed his shirt hadn’t bunched together when he’d sat down, so it covered enough of his lap to keep it safe from view.

  If only he could read what went through Gabe’s mind.

  “Braves are up next,” Gabe said.

  Hunter realized he’d stared at the television without noticing what had unfolded. He’d pondered the encounter for so long, he’d gotten lost in it while two more St. Louis players had struck out to end the inning.

  “Looks that way,” Hunter replied. “Not good for the Cards, huh?”

  Hunter turned and looked at Gabe, and when he did, he saw something more in Gabe’s eyes than a comment on the game.

  Their eyes locked a split second too long. Hunter felt his pupils dilate and he noticed Gabe’s fluttered, as well. Though it lasted a moment, Hunter sensed something cement itself between them.

  In that moment, Hunter knew Gabe had indeed noticed their physical contact earlier.

  And now, in spite of his attempts to disguise it, Hunter knew he had revealed a hidden part of himself to someone else.

  CHAPTER 15

  The café serv
ed everything from coffee to salads to hearth-baked, flatbread pizzas. Hunter munched on a vegetarian pizza at a corner booth. Though a meat lover, he favored this pizza, with its combination of goat cheese, white mushrooms, eggplant and other grilled vegetables. Hunter inhaled the sharp scent of its crust, the aroma of its grilled surface invigorating his senses.

  He couldn’t shake the previous night from his mind. Or, more specifically, the brief arm-brush encounter with Gabe. Afterward, neither had said a word about it; they had continued to watch the game until Gabe left a little past nine o’clock. Yet both were aware of what had happened. It had hung in the air between them the rest of the evening.

  Hunter wondered if he had revealed too much about himself. Not that he had intended to. But at this point, did it matter? He couldn’t change it, could he? He couldn’t take it back. Still, Hunter remained anxious. He could picture the humiliation if Gabe said anything to anyone. Then again, Gabe was a Christian, too. Others believed he was straight, right? If Gabe struggled the way Hunter did, he wouldn’t want anyone to know about him either, would he? And Gabe was one individual, not thirty. It was a secret between them—a secret which, if revealed, would serve neither of them well.

  Hunter breathed a sigh of relief. He was safe for now.

  Forget about that moment, Hunter thought. You get to move forward as if nothing happened.

  Brendan Pieper, Ellen’s fiancé, walked into the café and scanned the lunch crowd. Hunter caught his attention and waved him over.

  “You said you weren’t sure when you’d get here, so I went ahead and ordered my lunch,” Hunter said. “You don’t mind, do you ?”

  “Makes no difference.” Brendan shed his jacket and laid it on the booth seat across from Hunter. “I’m gonna grab coffee and skip the meal anyway. I’ll munch on an energy bar when I get back to the office.” And with that, Brendan stepped away.