Through the Wooden Door

by K Carr

  * * *

  “Boss?”

  Connor paused in loading up the van. “Yeah?”

  Ben was looking at Connor’s shoulder and not his face as he fidgeted from one leg to the next. “You do remember I’m off next week. Right?”

  Pretending to know exactly what his employee was referring to, Connor nodded once. “Yeah, of course,” Shit. He wasn’t expecting to be down one member of staff next week. “I put it on the system.”

  “Oh good,” Ben said in relief. “It’s just that I know the Wagner job is due to start next Tuesday and yesterday Martin was going on and on about-”

  “It’s all good, Ben,” Connor cut him off then resumed loading the last of the tools into the back of the van. He knew Ben continued to peer at him, Connor could see him in his peripheral vision “Got any plans for the rest of today?”

  It was Saturday, early afternoon, and the air was crisp. The start of this year’s December was an extra chilly one. Connor didn’t want to think of the upcoming holidays, and he had forced himself to completely block out one particular day when this month had started. It was too painful to even think about what would’ve been Cory’s fifth – fuck. The day had passed. He had managed to live through it. Of course he had wondered how Jen and Meg had dealt with the day, but he had gotten no calls or texts. He assumed however they spent it, Jen didn’t want him around.

  Christmas. He had to figure out a way to survive it. He was certain his parents would demand he spend Christmas with them, especially with things being so up in the air with his wife. And Jen had kept their daughter for Thanksgiving, gave him some bullshit excuse about her mom feeling under the weather and being worried her and Meg had caught whatever it was. Hmph. In all the years he’d known his mother-in-law he could count on one hand the number of times she’d been unwell. One hand. But he had bitten his tongue and accepted it. His lawyer had reminded him a couple of weeks ago to resume his attempts of getting Jen on side, whatever the fuck that meant.

  Ben yawned then replied, “Nothing much. Maybe catch the game on tv later.” He unzipped his overalls halfway down his upper torso to reveal the company’s branded t-shirt. “Boss, you’re sure it’s ok for me to have next week off? It’s just the way Martin was talking, it felt as if he thinks I’m in next week,” Ben cleared his throat. “But I’m not.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Connor reassured him. “It’s on the system,”

  “Because I can come in if you need me to,” Ben offered selflessly.

  “What?” Connor straightened up some of the pipes in the back of the van then shut the doors. “Ben I don’t want to see you from next Tuesday,” he paused, sheepishly asking, “Erm, when are you due back in again?”

  Squinting hard, Ben replied, “Friday, boss. I’m back on Fri- are you sure you don’t need me to come in?”

  “Get in the damn van,” Connor grumbled. “I’m driving back to the office.”

  A low bark of laughter came from Ben as he hurried over to the passenger side of the van and got in. Connor rubbed his forehead, wondering how he was going to complete the upcoming job with one less worker in the promised timeframe. He didn’t give any indication it was an issue, the drive back to his place of business was a relaxed one, even if it was an act on his part.

  “Want me to unload the van?” Ben asked when they pulled into one of the parking bays at the back of the premises forty minutes later.

  Connor intended to decline the offer and do it himself, but his phone vibrated in the pocket of his overalls. It was his personal phone and not the work phone. Nodding with gratitude, he said as he pulled the phone out, “Yeah, thanks.”

  Ben jumped out the van while Connor checked his phone. It was a message from Megan. She had finally sent him some photos of her wearing a Halloween costume and the full bucket of candy she’d gotten from her walk around the neighbourhood. He had missed spending Halloween with her too. First Halloween, then Thanksgiving, what next? Christmas? The smile which should’ve come from swiping through the photos never materialized on his lips. All he felt was a swell of sadness he hadn’t been there to go trick o’ treating with her, followed by bitterness as Thanksgiving had been without her also. After last night’s nightmare and broken sleep, Connor didn’t need another reminder of how much he had lost.

  But he did the right thing and replied to her message with smiley faces, a brief comment of how spooky her costume was and a thanks for finally sending the pictures; he also added that he would see her soon. He would make sure he got to see her soon.

  “Boss,” Ben popped into view outside Connor’s window.

  Startled, Connor growled out, “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  “Sorry,” Ben chuckled. “Do you want the old pipes scrapping?”

  “Yes,” Connor said. “And the left over new pipes can go back with yesterday’s delivery stock.”

  When Ben moved off to follow his directive, Connor exited the van and absentmindedly tossed the keys over to Ben as he passed by him. “When you’re done unloading the van, park it up next to the others, then you can head home for the day, Ben.”

  Checking his watch, Ben scowled at Connor. “It’s not even half three, boss. I don’t feel right about leaving you on your own.”

  “It’s fine.” Connor shrugged and patted the pockets of his overall. Work phone and wallet in one, office keys in another. Still clutching his personal phone he gestured to the front of the van. “Bring in the paperwork when you bring in the keys. Ok?”

  “Yes, boss,” Ben slipped the keys into his pocket and turned back to the inside of the van. Connor left him to it.

  The afternoon schedule was free, no more jobs lined up for today; Eddie and Martin were on emergency call out duty. There was nothing for him to do except maybe some paperwork. Connor walked through the quiet building and shut himself in the sanctity of his office. He found himself looking at Megan’s message again, finally managing a smile as he scrolled through the few pictures she had sent. Next Tuesday, which would be their weekly counselling session, he would take her a ton of candy – to make up for not spending Halloween together. And get her a little present for missing Thanksgiving. Maybe he could convince Jen to let Megan come home for a night next week. He could do a turkey dinner for the two of them, yeah, that would be nice.

  Connor decided to text his wife. Do you want me to pick Meg up from school on Tuesday? He got no reply back, waited ten minutes too. Because I can def pick her up. I’ll pick her up, she’ll like that. He started counting. Thirty seconds passed before his phone buzzed. Yeah, he knew that would prompt a response.

  No. It’s fine. We will meet you @ doc’s.

  Things remained strained between them, even with the counselling. Connor exhaled slowly. The counselling was for Megan, to help Megan deal with whatever she was dealing with. The twenty minutes each week, after Megan’s individual counselling, where the three of them talked with Dr Belinda was insufficient to heal any marital rifts between him and Jen. They needed their own counselling…and she would never agree to that again.

  What are you up to this wkend? He texted and waited. No reply. Feeling a spurt of annoyance, he sent something which he knew would garner a response. Meg should spend Christmas with me @ my parents as you’ve had her for Thanksgiving.

  Surprisingly, she didn’t reply to his text trap of engagement. Had she figured out what he was doing? If she would simply communicate with him past this fucking basic level – Connor made a half-strangled sound of frustration. His brain kept suggesting the default: pray about it; but he hardened his heart and his thoughts. Fuck that. He would be damned if he fell back into the false comfort of religion…he was damned anyway.

  “No,” he grumbled out loud while silently reminding himself how God had failed him, and continued to fail him. No, Connor would not be praying about anything anymore.

  It wasn’t long before there was a knock on the office door preceding the dark wood being swung open. Ben stuck his head ar
ound it, grinning as he said, “That’s me done, boss.”

  He tossed the keys over to Connor, who just about caught it. Raising an eyebrow, Connor placed the keys on his desk. “See you next Thursday.”

  “Friday,” Ben corrected.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Connor forced a laugh. “Friday, I know. I’m just kidding with you.” He watched Ben shake his head before briefly raising his hand to state his goodbye. “Have a good one, Ben,” Connor called as Ben quietly walked back out the office.

  Shit. He checked the upcoming week’s schedule. Besides the Wagner job, there were two other clients who had been earmarked as urgent. The Wagner job was a big one and did take precedent over the others, but Connor always tried to ensure his private homeowner clients got the same service as the bigger business clients on his books. The listed job he was currently scowling at was for Mrs Pilkins, a fiercely independent widow with no nearby family members. At her age, she should really be thinking about assisted living arrangements, but Connor wouldn’t dare mention it to her. Mrs Pilkins was as sharp as they got even with her age of 84 years. Her body might have been weathered with time and age but her tongue was weapon grade lethal when unleashed. Could he reschedule her yearly checks to the following week? He was loathed to do so. For the past decade he had diligently serviced the plumbing and heating of her property, at a slightly reduced cost too. No, he would ensure it was done, at least it would be one less worry on his plate. Knowing his luck, if he rescheduled the job some unforeseen issue like a burst pipe would no doubt happen.

  Grumbling under his breath, Connor focused on the mountain of admin jobs which needed constant attention. Honestly, he was surprised he’d managed to keep things running without any real hiccups for this long, and he had a new found respect for the work Jen used to do for their company. Maybe he needed to start thinking about hiring someone to fill the vacuum Jen’s absence had caused. It wasn’t just the admin she handled, it was the scheduling, the customer service, the tendering of contracts…Could he afford to hire someone at this time? With a sinking heart he brought up the latest figures of projected profit for the year to date.

  “Shit.” Connor sighed, staring in disbelief at the screen.

  Exactly five minutes later, he closed all the windows down and turned off the computer screen. He couldn’t be here right now, he just couldn’t sit at his desk and plod through all this bullshit. After he checked the security system and keyed in his code to activate its lock down mode, he grabbed his stuff and locked up the warehouse. Why had his life gotten this fucking hard? That was all he could think about as he jumped into his car and drove away from the premises. He wasn’t talking to God, had absolutely no intention of returning to his faith, but he could objectively try to figure out what event had led to his current suffering. What had he done to earn this cluster fuck? Who had he harmed for retribution to be heaped upon his head like this? There was nothing from memory, no sinful injury he had inflicted on an innocent. What the hell had he done to deserve this? Or maybe his wife was right. Maybe there was no omnipresent being looking down on them. Maybe they were all just spinning aimlessly in a world slowly being choked to death by humanity’s need to feel seen.

  “Keep it together, man,” he said out loud.

  Under some stern mental scolding, Connor drove home and parked in his usual spot on the driveway. The requisite wave and half-shouted ‘hello’ to one of the neighbours walking their dog reminded him how much of a lonely cage his home had become. Walking in the front door to be met with utter silence was the realest reminder he would ever need.

  The silence was numbing; like a thick, heavy fog which enveloped him the moment he closed the door behind his back. The silence reminded him of his dream last night, the feeling of being stuck in tar, unable to escape the inevitability of it all. The silence mocked him, it was a constant retelling of his failure to his family. How could silence be this damned painful?

  “Fuck this.” he growled out loud, needing to break the heaviness of his silent home. He could put on the tv, maybe play some music, perhaps he should do some work in the back yard, or maybe cook a meal.

  For one. Those two words echoed in his head. Connor tried to reason with himself. A person was only ever truly alone anyway, one’s thoughts…feelings; the actual experience of life itself was an individual one. But that wasn’t how his belief system was set up. His Christian faith had done a real number on his interpretation of life. Clenching his jaw he stalked down the hallway and headed upstairs. He refused to dwell on anything concerning faith - his faith, or lack of.

  “Fuck this.” Connor walked into the master bedroom and flung open the closet doors. In under ten minutes he had changed his clothes into something more suitable for what he had planned. A night out. He would go to a club or something, wait it was too early for a club. A bar first then a club later. Somewhere where there were loads of people, somewhere he could interact with someone…anyone…who didn’t know the whole sordid mess of who he was. Connor Oakes. Failed husband, failed father, failed man. He would go out, seeking a night full of noise, of distraction. The silence couldn’t have him tonight.

  Chapter 9

  “Is this Jennifer?”

  “Whosdis?” I grumbled into my cell.

  “My name is Mark, I’m a bartender at Indigo Nights. I have a very drunk Connor here with me and he said you would come get him. I offered to call him a cab earlier but I think he’s now past the stage of-”

  “It’s fine,” I cut him off, blinking the sleep away while sitting up in bed. “Where are you,” I lost the battle against the yawn. “Where are you located?”

  He gave the information before ending the call. I was incapable of moving for the space of a few seconds, then my limbs exploded into a burst of activity. Five minutes later I was dressed and in my mom’s bedroom. The light from the hallway cast a gloomy glow over the lines of the furniture in the room.

  “Mom,” I shook her shoulder, not as gently as I had intended, which caused her to sleepily jerk into an upright position.

  “Wha – I’m up,” she said. “What’s wrong? Is it Megan?” Although she had been sleeping only moments ago, she was already in crisis mode, already trying to get to the bottom of the problem. Maternal instincts.

  “Sorry to wake you,” I whispered from where I knelt at the side of her bed. “I have to go out.”

  “What time is it?” she asked groggily and reached over to check the digital alarm clock on the bedside table. When she saw the glowing 2:59, she woke all the way up. “What’s wrong? It’s 3 in the morning! You’re not going anywhere-”

  “It’s Connor,” I said then rushed to explain when her face filled with fright. “No, no, don’t look like that. It’s nothing serious. He just needs a lift.”

  “From where?” she rubbed a hand over her face and tried to fight a yawn.

  “A bar in Manhattan.” I mumbled. “I’ve got to go. I shouldn’t be too long. Will you listen out for Megan?”

  “Mhmm,” she murmured and started to sink back onto the mattress. “Don’t worry, I will. Call me,” Her eyelids slipped closed. “When you pick him up.”

  I leaned over to kiss her forehead. “Thanks, Mom. Love you.” I stood up and quietly exited her room. After a quick check on my sleeping daughter, I grabbed my bag and keys then hurried out the house. The cold air hit my face like a slap as I belatedly realized my coat was unbuttoned. My nipples constricted against the cotton material of my t-shirt, in my haste to get dressed in the dark bedroom, I had forwent a bra. My steps quickened into a sprint towards my SUV, and once I was in the vehicle I blasted the heating on while bringing up the route to the bar on my SatNav. The only sound on the street was the engine of the SUV as I reversed out the driveway and drove off.

  It took forty minutes to get to the destination. Forty minutes of me wondering what the hell was wrong with Connor. Well, I knew what was wrong with him. The same thing which was wrong with me. We were both struggling to deal with Cory’s death. My
remedy was to avoid talking about it and divorce Connor, while Connor’s seemed to be the inside of a bottle. He had promised. He had sworn to me all those months ago that he wouldn’t fall back into a drunken world of oblivion. Yet here I was driving to a fucking bar to pick him up. Never mind it hadn’t been too long since I’d last been drowning my sorrows with whiskey. This wasn’t like my once a month alcoholic dance, it was different with Connor. Fuck my hypocrisy. I was right to seek a divorce.

  “What the-” I slowed the SUV to a crawl then slammed on the brakes as I spotted what looked like a familiar blonde head amongst the brawling men. It couldn’t be. “Shit!”

  There was a fight in the middle of the sidewalk. There were three of them. Three of them pounding the shit out of my husband! Or trying to, Connor was holding his own…maybe not, I amended when he got a fist to the face and another to the stomach simultaneously.

  “Shit.” My hand was already searching through my bag. Once my fingers closed around the item I launched out the still running SUV and ran over to the fight. Close enough to be heard but not close enough to get an accidental punch. “HEY! Get the fuck away from him.”

  They were a writhing mass of flying hands, kicking feet, contorted bodies and loud cusses. Son of a bitch. Men were so unevolved.

  “I’ve called the cops.” I screamed in warning. Then I took a couple of steps closer. “I will tase you motherfuckers if you don’t get off my husband.”

  “Jen?” Connor was shoving and clawing his way free from the other guys.

  “Try me! Fucking try me!” I roared, holding my taser in preparation. “I will tase all you assholes!”

  “What the fuck?” One of them fell back after a jerky and definitely lucky kick from Connor.

  I did a sort of threatening half lunge, I didn’t want to get too close. For all my bravado and bluster, I was scared shitless. A taser was nothing if they had a knife or a gun. Connor was clawing his way out from the grip of the other two men. They were all bloodied! Fucking idiots.