by Nate Allen
He knew the man was on probation, and hoped to delay him with the necessary exchange of contact info until the police arrived, DWI=probation violation, hopefully revocation… go directly to jail, do not pass “GO” or collect on Mrs. Johnston’s offer. But there was an unusual uneasiness about the man, Jake sensed the apprehension about him, and as he returned to his car “to get his registration and insurance info,” Jake followed him.
He had recognized Jake from the bar, and apparently had some cause for concern, an understandable aversion to returning to prison perhaps, as mentioned earlier, sometimes the strong become the prey in certain circumstances, and with his left leg on the ground outside the vehicle, his right on the floorboard as he leaned across the front seat and opened the glove box, it wasn’t papers but a flash of gun-barrel blue that he pulled from the compartment. This ain’t happening Jake thought to himself, and in an Oh-My-God moment, he kicked the door shut on the man’s extended leg, heard the crack of the bone, the man dropped the flashlight, …that’s right it was a flashlight, and not a pistol. Dragged his broken shin into the car, slammed the door and sped away.
What the fuck? Aside from the concern he had unjustly broken the man’s leg, the bastard had driven away. All manners of questions were running through his mind as he ran back to his truck and proceeded to chase the man. It had the atmosphere of a scene from the Matrix, everything seemingly happening in slow motion, except for his racing thoughts. The absurdity of the moment didn’t escape him, like the episode from the show The Soprano’s where Paulie and Christopher drive to the “pine barrens” to bury the body of the Russian mobster they had “killed” only to open the trunk and have the man jump out and flee and find themselves chasing him blindly through the darkness of the New Jersey forest.
In a similar vein he was now pursuing a man whom he had rear-ended …intentionally, after forewarning the police, a man whose leg he had broken because he was getting a flashlight from the glove box. The thought of bailing crossed his mind as he kept the dispatcher updated on their whereabouts, but there was a high degree of possibility that might make things worse. It must’ve been like that period of time between when the suicidal man steps from the ledge and kisses the pavement, a conversation with himself contemplating his decision all the way down, all of which was moot. The plan had begun as a humanitarian effort, it was teed up to be potentially heroic, albeit unknown and undetectable, like a SEAL Team 6 operation, but it was quickly evolving into “Black Hawk Down” and looking more likely that he might have gotten involuntarily committed …or arrested as the case turned out to be.
Jake had kept 911 abreast of their location, an awkward conversation to be sure, and eventually RPD corralled Barry into an office building parking lot, his car crippled as he tried to jump the curb and drive off through the woods. Jake followed excitedly like Gomer Pyle making a citizen’s arrest, his behavior wasn’t easily understandable, …but inexplicable wasn’t a crime. Leaving the scene of an accident, assault, and DWI however were. Rhonda was the first call he made, and she met him at the Wake County Detention Center. Barry had been arrested, “Thank God,” DWI and drugs in the car, and after his wounds were tended to, it would be enough to send him back to prison. At least he would no longer be a variable in their equation, and more importantly no threat to Rae. But Jake was now one of Wake County’s Slammer Magazine thumbnails …alongside William Barry, and he couldn’t even tell her the why of it all. It was a dangerous time to be lovers apparently.
Though they had been in contact on a daily/weekly basis, it had now been four weeks since he’d plowed her flowerbed at Easter, and Rae was the second call he made, waiting until after he was back at home the next morning and she had taken the children to school. He obviously left the details out, telling her only that he had gotten the DWI. She said she was “worried sick” about him and would pay him a visit that coming weekend, after all he was a captive audience, in North Carolina you automatically lose your license for ten days following a DWI arrest.
He recognized the tone of her voice though, it was the tone she often used when she spoke about Glen, of indifference and detachment as if she took some obscene pleasure in the man’s difficulties because they stood as a reminder of how good she had it. He thought he could hear her smiling at the news, perhaps not overtly, but like she had when she first saw him that October night at Leon’s, unaware of it herself, and that genuineness made it all the more unpalatable. As if she thought the universe had a finite amount of misfortune and the more that befell him, the less likely it was to visit her. He still wanted to see her though and would write her in the interim, it went something like this:
What can I say? You wrote me once very early on that you “want a relationship of total openness and honesty because I know that commitment will come naturally and freely from such an approach.” However, it takes two to make this happen. Commitment, that’s a scary word, kinda like stress. I’ve avoided it as much as I could ;)) …it implies responsibility, and we both have our share of those, especially you.
But only moments have no strings Rae, …relationships, friendships, (the good ones at least) cannot escape them or they have no true value, or strength. Would you trust yourself to drive across a bridge that wasn’t sound? Honesty, openness, acceptance, …trust, are all strings of varying lengths, and widths.
I know you’ve got other interests. But you are showing me that you recognize the value of our friendship, and are caring for it when I need it most. You’ve said it several times, “Actions speak louder than words” … and I know it sounds like I’m writing this past-tense, but knowing that you’ll be coming, and that you want to be here for me, is keeping me from “falling apart”… until I can “fall apart” safely with you. I’m continuing to find “positives” that are arising out of this “shit” that I stepped in, and the fact that our friendship will inevitably be stronger because of it is one I hold dear. If I were writing this on a piece of stationary, it would have a tear stain now.
I am aching for Saturday. As always…I will be here if you need me …even if I have to take a cab ;) …and I say this sincerely my friend, as never before…
Love,
-Jake
It sounded overdramatic and it was, but it was incomplete, some of the more important details missing, like telling someone you had a kidney removed, but being incapable of telling them you had given it to them. But she never made it anyway, swing and a miss… “Strike two.” Love may not keep score, but what about friendship? Just as the evidence was mounting to make a case for the lack of it, so was his desire and determination to prove otherwise.
As for Rhonda and Chunk, he had some explaining to do, but his mind was somewhere else. The disappointment hidden by failed attempts at humor, and for the first time in the relationship he had that moment where he had to face the reality that she was more important in his life than he was in hers. He had known it was there but had been able to avoid looking at it because it lacked any detriment.
He understood that try as you might, you can’t convince someone to feel something they’re not naturally inclined to, but emotion was the constant in his equation with her, not the variable, and he couldn’t take it out. Like some thesis for his Psych major he was deducing from his years of experience with women, narrowing it down to a specificity towards her, and in so doing placing great significance on it. She conversely was inducing from her experience with him and applying it broadly to others, and thereby denying any significance. Perhaps it in fact had none for her, or perhaps, she had to behave as if it had none in order to complete the task of raising her kids as she saw it, at Glen’s expense.
They were in a romantic Catch-22, she a long way from the finish line, and his patience was not that patient. The relationship was an island in both their lives; however for him it was a destination, for her it was a layover, an airport hub to other destinations, but he had proven he could manipulate her situation so that she had fewer choices and flights, thereby maintai
ning his value to her.
He had danced around their verbal agreement like a tax lawyer looking for loopholes. He hadn’t directly stepped in her business with Tony he rationalized …only tossed a number of rocks over the proverbial fence. Though it’s doubtful the woman would’ve agreed. Even this disaster with Barry had taken place outside her perimeter as he saw it. But he was about to trespass, to act instead of react. He told himself he was doing it for her sake, and he truly believed it.
A church near where he lived had a saying on the sign out front that read: “What angers you controls you.” He’d remembered that one, he had found it to be true in his life. As consumed as he could be with things, anger was difficult to let go of, and his anger was like a pinball, while he could batter it around and forget about it for a time with the wonderful distractions of his son and their life together, work, and his friends, like the pinball, it always returned to the hole at the bottom of the table, he could not dispose of, nor ignore it.
The man who had purposely avoided serious relationships was now involved with a married woman, a married woman who was sleeping with other men besides her husband, besides him …and that’s a hard mouthful for any man to swallow.
To love someone, and know that was going on is contrary to a man’s nature, …that bears repeating, for a man to love a woman as he seemed to, and know what was going on and put up with it, to have seen it with his own eyes, is contrary to a man’s nature. While it has all the appearance of a weakness or lack of self-respect, it must’ve taken an incredible strength. His tolerance as such would wear thin, but not out. A product of his competitive nature, and the notion he could win her over. But there’s no pride or blue ribbon to be had in the “stomaching that plate of shit” contest…
People don’t walk into obsession, they find themselves there, and as a matter of self-preservation, upon that finding, they sometimes have to deny it. To be aware you are in denial is to not be in denial. How fucked up is that? But he would eventually say he wasn’t denying it, just not acknowledging it. Rhonda and Chunk knew something was up with the man, but he wasn’t volunteering information. Rhonda wasn’t one to refrain from stating the obvious though, and she would inquire about his love life. He would tell her not to worry, that she was still number one in his heart, as she then told the boy to hush and informed him that women “ate men like him” where she came from. “I’m not a barbeque sandwich,” he reminded her lovingly.
It was about this time he began to reveal elements of what was going on to his friends, never revealing much though, they would only come to know her as the “married girl.” It all began to make some sense, the polarities in his behavior, the spring in his step, and the periods of distant preoccupation. This had been going on for seven months and he hadn’t made nary a suggestion of it, partly because he knew he would not have an agreeable audience with his two friends, and mostly to protect the woman, the married girl. It took something like this to get him to open up vaguely.
Jake couldn’t explain the woman’s behavior, and he tried. He had obviously ignited something in her, and it had quickly become a wildfire and made of him an ill-equipped makeshift smokejumper starting backfires to contain the blaze. Unaware to her, and much to her dislike, a marginally effective invisible cockblocker, or box-blocker as the gender may be.
He wasn’t just trying desperately to funnel all the action his way, but to protect her. “Goddamn woman …why can’t she just behave?” he wondered. It was probably somewhere about here on this trek, in a moment of honesty with himself, he had to admit he wished he’d lifted her from the marriage when she’d come to that brink and he had the chance. In retrospect it didn’t seem conscionable but cowardly. You should never start something you don’t have the courage or heart to finish.
He would give his attorney friend the background info on William Barry, not how or why he knew it though. Rhonda would get the assault charges dropped, Barry’s record, despite Jake’s supposed unawareness of it, made him a perceivable threat, and therefore his actions deemed reasonable in that regard. The “leaving the scene” went away as well, but the DWI charge would stick since Jake was at the legal limit, and that alone would have serious consequences and financial ramifications for the self-employed single-dad. Rhonda was rightfully worried about him. He was her guy, and it was unusual behavior for him, and she would tell him in that way only true friends can, not what he wanted to hear, but what he needed to. There is a distinct difference between hearing and listening however, and he heard what she had to say he just wasn’t listening. He would be less forthcoming as well.
Jake was learning the hard way some things about the woman he loved. She was apparently a non-discriminating gal, an equal opportunity adulteress. “I expect she’ll sleep with her husband next,” he thought. And it was right about this time he gave some consideration to involve the man, why should he be doing all the work? He had Glen’s cell phone number, late one night after he’d had a few cold ones he got curious about the man, so he *67’d his number blocking it from display, and called the university directory and got his extension.
It was well past midnight, he knew he wouldn’t be there, so he proceeded to dial it, “Hi you’ve reached Professor Glen Johnston, and this is the week of… I will be out of the office until Monday, you can leave a message, or if you need to contact me you can reach me on my cell at 919-555-5168,” Jake made a note of the number, it seemed a waste of potentially valuable info otherwise.
Glen unfortunately sounded like a nice guy over the phone, perhaps they should get together and discuss his wife who was fucking everything insight…or out of sight as it were. Rhonda had a similar message on her phone, and it didn’t strike him as unusual. So he had the man’s number in case he needed to enlist his help, even if doing so put himself at risk.
North Carolina is one of a few remaining states that still have an Alienation of Affection law on the books… we are steeped in tradition and stubborn after all… It has its origin rooted in the idea of a spouse as property, the loss of which had a negative impact on the household, however in recent times it had become distorted in a sense and used to punish infidelity and avenge one’s assaulted ego, though extremely rare …like making a public admission of inadequacy. Its not a criminal offense, but a tort, a civil action that allows a spouse to seek damages against a third party whose conduct deprived the husband or wife filing the action of the love and affection that previously existed between husband/wife and his/her spouse.
Now there’s room for debate about whether that previously existed or not, the preponderance of evidence leaning towards the “NOT”… Jake would argue her affections for Glen Johnston were quite intact …it was her legs that kept falling apart. If he were guilty of anything it would have been Criminal Conversation, or adultery, and if that became an issue or went to trial it was gonna be a class action lawsuit.
Unseen, he had all the appearance of a man trying to keep the marriage together, but Glen wasn’t doing his part, and Jake thought it time to share the burden. “I’ll send him a text,” he thought, it would need to sound like it came from a woman, ambiguous and vague as to who specifically it was regarding, only give him reason to take a closer look at his wife, and in the process, once again, hamper her scamper, stomp her romp.
Jake knew all about disposable cells, he was always bumping up against them trying to catch up to people in his Investigator role with Rhonda, while her reputation and clientele had improved over the years, she had not abandoned her original bread and butter. Respected and popular with the population of defendants charged with DWI and drug arrests, those who often need help but can’t afford it. She was afforded the proper respect on the street because of the openness of her heart for such cases, but a few of them often repaid her kindness with skipping on the bill, and Jake spent a portion of his time trying to track them down to garnish wages, or work out payment arrangements, and would often receive a percentage of what he recovered as a result.
He
knew how to find people who didn’t want to be found, and often frequented the parts of town the police don’t go alone in an effort to do so. As her agent, he had his own street-cred as well because he was fair, and while he could be an asshole when the situation demanded, he wasn’t unnecessarily an uncompromising hard-ass. He had such a phone he had purchased with cash several months ago, long enough that any store surveillance would have routinely been written over …though the place he bought it in southeast Raleigh, probably only had the cameras for appearance.
He asked a random young woman to leave a message on the phone, coaching her along, it said:
“Hi, sorry I missed your call, leave me an interesting message and I’ll get back to you. Bye Now. ”
His original intent was that he would use it at some point to communicate with Rae so that nobody could tie them together. That way if Glen tried to call back he’d get the woman’s voice, and the phone would have long been gone, it was after all disposable …not an original idea, your fifteen your-old could be doing it, but it’s effective and it happens everyday. But what would he say in the text?
The more he thought about it, the more he thought he might be better served to send it to Rae instead, after all he didn’t want to completely eliminate her activities, just his rivals. And while he’d literally laid the man’s wife out on their dinner table and stuffed her like a Thanksgiving turkey, strange as it may sound he didn’t want to hurt Glen’s feelings, knowledge might be power …but ignorance is bliss.
What you don’t know can’t hurt you …or so they say, and as long as she was married she’d still have need of him he reasoned …his ir-rationale no different than her justifiable adultery. So he sent Rae the text. What it said was unimportant, only that she got the message that someone knew about her extramarital activities so to speak, and she received it as evidenced by the equally spiteful response. She wasn’t a woman to be bullied or run from a fight either… And the disposable phone became disposed.