Nick looked at his computer screen. The web browser was set to Google’s home page. He had just typed a search term in the text box: I want to move to California, but had not hit the Search button yet. It had been over a year since Ken had brought up the subject of That Woman to Nick. If anything, Ken had seemed to chill out about the situation in the last few months and accept it. He certainly seemed more calm, less stressed in the past few months. “I feel like you did back then. In fact, I just typed 'I want to move to California' in Google, but haven’t searched on the term yet.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmmm.” Nick could hear Ken on the other side of the cubicle wall that separated their workspace. It sounded like Ken was searching through something on his computer. “That bad, huh?”
“Yeah, it’s getting there.”
“That sucks.”
Nick and Ken had participated in a lot of quid pro quo during down time. Ken had told Nick about his problems with Rebecca Armstrong. Naturally, Nick told Ken about Karen.
Nick touched the left side of his face near his temple, gingerly inspecting the area with his fingers. He winced. It still hurt. He was surprised Ken or one of his other co-workers hadn’t noticed. They had noticed an earlier injury, when Karen had punched him in the face, resulting in a bloody nose and two black eyes. He’d told them he’d gotten up in the middle of the night and, disoriented due to the house being dark, walked into a wall. “Just admit it,” Bob Keene, their Senior Copywriter, had said in that joking tone of his, “your wife beat the shit out of you last night. Right?” Nick had grinned, trying to laugh along with the joke, but deep down he’d felt the shame of his situation being so goddamn obvious. Yes, Karen had hit him. She’d hit him last night too. When Karen thought he was being unreasonable, she hit him. It didn’t take much for him to be unreasonable in her eyes, and it happened once a month on average.
He’d kept the physical abuse he'd suffered from Karen a secret for years and had not told anybody, not even his closest friends outside of work until one afternoon when Ken had just finished unburdening about Rebecca. The time had seemed right, so Nick revealed everything. Ken had been aghast. “I knew wives-beating-on-husbands spousal abuse existed, but you sure never hear much about it. You really need to do something, man. See a counselor, go to the police—”
Nick had stopped him. “That’ll just make it worse.”
“Oh,” Ken said. That afternoon, the two men had left work early, met at a bar and drank several beers during further commiseration.
“You know, it wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Ken said from his side of the cube. “You’ve got to do something. Your son never wants to come home because of his mother, you never want to go home because of her, and you’re running yourself ragged. I can tell, Nick. How much sleep do you get every night?”
“Three or four hours.”
“See what I mean? Just do it.”
Nick sighed. “Maybe I should. Problem is, I don’t have the money to file for divorce. Karen will go apeshit.”
There was a musical chiming sound from Nick’s computer. “Don’t tell anybody I sent this to you,” Ken said. “And when you have the URL committed to memory, delete the email from your system. If you use this site at work, clear it from your browser history and cache after every use.”
“What is it?” Nick asked. He opened the email and saw that it contained a website URL. www.youranswers.com.
“Check it out.”
Nick clicked on the link and a new browser window opened. A white screen came up with a text box centered in the middle. There were no words on the screen indicating he was at a website called Your Answers, or youranswers.com. He glanced at the top of the browser screen and saw that whoever created the site hadn’t even bothered to name the index file correctly. It was simply labeled Untitled.
“So what is this?” Nick asked.
“It’s a search engine,” Ken said. “Just compare it to Google. Go ahead. Type that search term in and compare the results.”
Curious, Nick did as Ken suggested. He hit the Enter key. The screen went blank.
“Nothing’s happening.”
“Do you still have the Google window open?”
“Yeah.”
“Go ahead and search on the term there and wait for the results.”
Nick navigated to the browser window that still had Google open. He hit the Enter key. Google returned thirty-two thousand, five hundred and eighty six results. The top results were links to various message board postings in which people were asking how much money it cost to move to California.
“Shitty results from Google, huh?”
“It’s what you can expect with such a stupid search term,” Nick said.
“Go back to Your Answers dot com. You should have results there any minute.”
Nick navigated to the youranswers.com browser window. The screen was still blank. “Nothing’s happening.”
“All good things come to those who wait.”
A moment later, the search query returned a list of results. Unlike the Google Search, youranswers.com only returned seven results.
“Well?” Ken asked.
Nick clicked the first result, completely fascinated. He was now on a website called Five easy steps to move to California. “This is incredible,” he said.
“Like I said, clear your browser’s cache when you’re done.” Ken’s voice sounded cautious and there was something else too. Regret that he'd revealed the existence of this site? It was hard to tell. “And don’t forget to delete that email.”
“Yeah, right,” Nick said. He clicked back onto his inbox, selected the email, and deleted it. Then he deleted his trash. “Done and done,” he said.
Ken said nothing as Nick read through the web page his search query had found. As he read through it, he realized it contained the best information he’d ever found on moving across the country. In fact, it addressed everything from budgeting, to unexpected emergencies, to dealing with moving companies, buying a home versus renting, to a day-by-day itinerary for the move itself.
Nick spent the rest of the afternoon looking through the other links, which were similar. Some highlighted the pros and cons of moving to California. Others gave a historical view on moving to California from the perspective of those coming to the state from other parts of the U.S., as well as charting employment trends, careers, housing, and other economic factors. One website even included projections of the state’s future economic growth until 2050.
“Incredible,” Nick said. He backed out of the search results until he was at a blank screen. The text box sat there, beckoning for a term to be typed in it.
“Don’t get too carried away,” Ken said. Nick heard him stand up in his cube and gather his things. Nick glanced at the clock in the upper right screen of his monitor. Two minutes before five o’clock.
“I won’t,” Nick said. He clicked out of the Your Answer web window, cleared the browser cache, and then closed it.
“See you tomorrow,” Ken said. He waved at Nick and exited the building through the door that led to the rear parking lot, which was where the Creative Department was situated.
“See ya,” Nick said. He took his time gathering his belongings. He had a lot of things on his mind. Namely the thirty minutes or so he would have to peruse youranswer.com before Karen got home.
Nick left for home a few minutes later.
HE WAS ABLE to access the search engine before Karen got home from work. Billy was in his room doing his homework. Nick sat in the living room, his laptop open. He typed in the URL and the first search term he typed in was “How do I leave my wife without her finding me?”
The screen went blank. Nick waited. The left side of his face was tender and sore from where Karen had hit him last night. If he hadn’t ducked, she would have got him in the eye and he would’ve been in worse physical shape. This morning on the way to dropping Billy off at school, he’d asked his son if the boy had hear
d them fighting. “Yeah,” Billy had responded, his tone of voice low, ashamed. “I heard it when she hit you. I always hear it when she hits you.” That admission had made Nick feel like a complete failure.
Nick glanced at the staircase, then out the window at the driveway. It was a quarter till six. Karen could arrive home anytime between six and seven, depending on how late she stayed in the office and if she made a pit stop at the grocery store on her way home. Karen worked in the IT field as a Network Security Specialist for a financial firm. The work sometimes meant late nights. Dinner on weeknights was usually catch-as-catch-can. Billy hadn’t been hungry when they got home and neither had Nick. Father and son would probably snack later in the evening on bowls of cereal.
Nick’s eyes went to the laptop screen. A moment later, his latest search query was returned.
This time there were only three results.
Heart beating wildly, Nick clicked on the first link. The page came up.
Nick glanced out the window. No Karen. Yet.
Realizing he only had a small window of opportunity, Nick read through the website, which was titled How to successfully leave your abusive spouse and have them never find you.
Thirty minutes later, Karen pulled her car into the driveway. Nick closed the web browser, cleared the cache, and shut down his laptop. He had it stowed away and was in the kitchen preparing dinner by the time his wife walked in the front door.
JAY WAS IN the office the following day, so Nick didn’t want to mention anything about the search engine in his presence. Instead, he initiated a conversation with Ken via Skype Instant Message.
NICK: I did some more research with the help of that search engine last night.
KEN: Oh yeah? And?
NICK: Where did you find it?
Ken was slow to respond. Nick sat at his desk, trying to listen to the other side of the cubicle wall. Jay was over in his cubicle creating image files for an online ad campaign.
KEN: I didn’t just find it. Somebody told me about it.
Nick gave this some thought. He was under the impression that Ken was uneasy about discussing the search engine.
NICK: You mean...somebody told you about it the way you told me?
KEN: Exactly.
Nick’s next question was more direct.
NICK: Have you used it?
KEN: Yes.
NICK: What have you used it for?
KEN: Don’t ask.
Nick didn’t respond. He sat in front of his computer screen, his mind racing. Ken hadn't really mentioned Rebecca in the past year. He'd chalked it up to Ken finally accepting the situation, resolved that he couldn't do anything about it.
He’d also seemed less stressed-out in the past six months. As if his situation no longer existed.
Fingers poised over the keyboard, Nick thought carefully about his next question, afraid of what the answer would be. He was still trying to formulate it when Ken answered it for him.
KEN: Let’s just say that I used it to take care of my problem.
Nick read the answer, not breathing. His thoughts were interrupted by Jay, who called out. “Okay, men! This graphic is done! Where’s the next one? Hey, Ken! You see that video I sent you on Hulu?”
“Yeah, that was crazy!” Ken’s voice had taken on his usual happy-go-lucky tone and as much as Nick tried to get into his work, he found it hard to concentrate on his tasks for the rest of the day.
OVER THE NEXT three weeks, Nick did more research on youranswers.com in his spare time. He went to work every day and threw himself into it, which was the only way he could get through the day without letting the possibilities the search engine had to offer drive him crazy. He picked his son up on his way home from work, did chores around the house, and when Karen got home he tried to stay on her good side. Things seemed to go pretty well. Karen was in a good mood, and he tried to keep it that way by doing more around the house, more than he should, really, since many things Karen had previously done she no longer bothered with. One weekend he took his family out to dinner to their favorite steakhouse. He said nothing as Karen flirted with their young waiter. Billy cast a look at Nick as if to say, what the hell is wrong with her? Nick met his son’s look with one of his own. Not now.
During those three weeks, Nick used youranswers.com to make the following plans:
He was going to move to California. He’d already secured an alternate identity for himself and Billy thanks to the tips found in the comprehensive website he’d found titled How to leave your abusive spouse and ensure they never find you. He liquidated his IRA portfolio, minus penalties, and diverted the funds to his personal checking account (he and Karen had always maintained separate bank accounts). He’d also laid out plans on taking Billy out of school without Karen’s approval and knowledge. He had enough money in his savings to tide him over for at least six months. He even had a date planned for the move—two weeks from now, when Karen went to New York for the weekend with her mother. He'd secured a moving van that he was due to pick up that Friday. He and Billy would load it with their belongings and be hundreds of miles from the house by the time Karen arrived home late Sunday. When they left the house they would no longer be Nick and Billy Clapp—they would have new names altogether, along with new social security numbers.
They would start over, away from Karen and her abusive influence.
That’s what had settled it for Nick. Karen’s abuse wasn’t just centered on knocking him around every few months. Every other day she heaped verbal and emotional abuse on Billy. Their son was “stupid”, and “lazy”, and “fat”, and he was a “sissy”. Nick stood up for Billy every time and Karen would dismiss his protests with a “Don’t take everything so seriously! I’m just joking around with him! You know I’m just kidding, right Silly-Billy?” It obviously wasn’t okay to Billy, and the arguments would escalate to the point where Karen would scream at Nick, accuse him of portraying her as an unfit mother.
A week before their planned escape, after Billy had gone to sleep in his room down the hall, Karen tried to initiate sex. Nick tried to get in the mood, but Karen was too aggressive. She'd dominated the attempt, and when she kissed him she bit down on his lower lip, bringing not a burst of pleasure from him, but pain. His penis rapidly wilted and Karen pouted. "Don't I turn you on anymore?"
"Yes, you do," Nick said. He sat up in bed, trying to assuage her fears. "It's just...I'm sorry, I'm just tired and overstressed, and—"
Karen started to cry. She turned away from him. "You don't love me anymore! All you do is work and spend time in your office when you're at home and we never spend any time together!" Karen put her face in her hands and sobbed loud and hard.
Nick's attempt at calming her emotions, at finding a bridge for which to open a line of communication eroded when she became combative. He tried to remember a time when he really loved her—the early years of their relationship and marriage were wonderful. He'd really felt she was his soulmate. But then careers had driven a wedge between them and she'd thrown herself into her work in network security, then they'd had Billy and she changed. When it came to work, play, and raising Billy, everything had to be followed to a strict regimen. There was no room for compromise or error. This wasn't a sudden change, but gradual, and before he knew it their arguments became more heated and turned physical on her part.
She refused to listen to him, refused to talk, and instead told him how selfish and insensitive he was and if he loved her he would want her physically, not just emotionally, and then somehow the argument went to Karen picking at his faults, how he never cleaned the kitchen, always left a mess in the bathroom, never did anything around the house (none of them true) and when he tried to defend himself she became more loud, more combative, and when he slipped up and countered with a "Well all you do when you get home from work is sit on the sofa and watch those shitty TV shows", she ended the fight by kneeing him in the groin.
Nick fell to the floor, hitting his right temple on the bed frame on
the way down. For a moment he couldn't hear anything. All he felt was white-hot pain spreading through his groin and lower belly. He felt a wave of nausea. For a long time he was unable to move, the pain was so crippling.
When he finally regained some of his senses, he noticed Karen had left the room. He could hear her down the hall in Billy's bedroom, talking to him in a calm, soothing tone. Billy sounded like he was crying. Nick gritted his teeth and tried to stand up. His stomach felt like it was going to revolt.
He wound up crawling to the master bathroom and shutting the door. He crawled to the toilet, threw up, flushed, and then lay by the commode for a long time, his arms draped over it. In time, he heard the pad of Karen's feet as she walked back to the bedroom. She slipped into bed without a word. Nick closed his eyes, the pain washing over him in waves.
He managed to get up and hobble out of the master bathroom, exiting through the door that led to the hallway. He made his way carefully downstairs, where he took something for the pain, put an ice pack on his swollen testicles and spent the rest of the night on the living room sofa.
KEN ATKINS WASN’T in the office when Nick arrived ten minutes late. He limped over to his cubicle and eased himself into his chair. Jay was already working in his cube, absorbed in his work. Mark was in his office with the door closed. Bob Keene was talking to Hal Enders, one of the other senior copywriters.
Nick turned on his computer and sighed as he settled into his seat. He hadn't slept well, and had gotten up to soak in cool water in the bathtub downstairs very late last night. This had helped soothe the swelling in his testicles. He'd gingerly inspected them with his fingers, trying not to cry out in pain as he assessed the damage. He wound up telling himself that he would make an appointment with his doctor when he arrived at the office.
Screaming to Get Out & Other Wailings of the Damned Page 11