Dropping Stones / Kingmaker SET

by Paul Cwalina

  “Eh...no big deal,” she said, putting on a front. I could tell it bothered her whether she wanted to admit it or not.

  We talked for another half-an-hour or so. I told her that I lived a few towns away and that I was a real estate developer. I used the available information about her to my advantage and increasingly peppered the conversation with innuendos and suggestive phrases to lead her exactly where I wanted her. Finally, I went in for the kill. I insisted she have another drink and then said, “You know, that dress you’re wearing strikes me as one that you intend to take off while there is a man in the same room with you.”

  “Oh, you think so, huh?”

  “I do.”

  “And I suppose you’d like to be that man.”

  “Oh, I would not mind that one bit,” I said, moving closer to her.

  “I’m going to tell my friends that I’m heading out,” I said. “Why don’t you do the same to yours and meet me outside in five minutes. I’ll take you home.” She agreed and she met me as arranged.

  If she had any inhibitions, she lost them on the drive to her place. “I’m going to do everything tonight that I never did for my husband,” she softly said, and kissed my neck while I drove.

  She must have kept her word because I couldn’t imagine what else would be left.

  I’ll have to remember to send ‘thank you’ cards to her useless ex-husband and absentee father for gift-wrapping her for me.

  I woke up around five am and quietly got dressed. I grabbed my cell phone and saw that there was a picture message from Chelsea that she sent around six hours prior. It was a picture of a bottle of wine and two glasses with the message ‘Are you coming?’

  Damn.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was overcast when I picked up Chelsea for the museum fundraiser the following weekend. She had told me to go through the first door and up to her place and knock instead of ringing the doorbell outside. We had spent most of our time together either out somewhere or at my place. I think that was because she wanted to be sure she had an ‘escape’ route in case I became too amorous.

  As I climbed the stairs, it still felt wrong. It still felt foreign. I shouldn’t be here.

  She must have heard me climb the stairs. As I reached her door, she opened it and I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. Chelsea had her apartment decorated completely in pure white --- the walls, carpeting, furniture, countertops, cabinets, appliances and even the dining table --- all were a spotless white. She said she liked it that way because it made it work like a canvas that she could paint with her decor.

  Little did she know that she, herself, had just become a painting. Her royal blue strapless dress perfectly matched the blue tips of her hair and they both matched a blue vase I saw on the counter over her shoulder. I don’t know how I didn’t notice before, but she was stunning. She had every right to simply stand there like a celebrity on the red carpet and be the focus of a thousand cameras. But that surely wasn’t her. Sarah was the celebrity, not Chelsea.

  I leaned against the doorway and just stared for a moment.

  “Hi,” she said.

  I managed to get out a weak, “Hi.”

  “You like it?” she asked.

  “Very much so. You look beautiful,” I said, mesmerized.

  “Not so bad yourself in that tuxedo,” she selflessly said.

  “No, no, no. I am definitely the ‘Beast’ to your ‘Beauty’,” I offered.

  “Aw, you’re sweet. Thank you,” she said. “Let me grab my purse and we can get going.”

  On the drive to the museum I kept stealing looks at Chelsea from the corner of my eye. I was happy to talk to her as much as I could just to give me an excuse to take my eyes off the road and onto her.

  I parked the car in the lot across the plaza from the museum. “Oh, boy, we better be quick. I see a couple drops of rain.”

  “We’ll be alright,” she said, calmly.

  I sprinted around the car to get her, but she was already out. I grabbed her hand and said, “Let’s go.”

  The words barely left my mouth when the skies opened and we were in the middle of a hard rain with about two hundred feet of courtyard ahead of us. “Let’s try to get to the awning in front of Mulligan’s until it slows down,” I said loudly, desperate to preserve our clothes and appearance. Chelsea was laughing the entire way. I tried to pull her to get her to move faster, but she broke free. I got about ten feet away from the awning when I stepped into a puddle that had quickly formed in a depression in the uneven stones. The water covered my shoe and my foot was soaked.

  I got to the awning and started angrily wiping the rain from my tuxedo and turned to look for Chelsea. She stopped at the puddle that claimed the life of my shoe. She tucked her clutch purse under her right arm and with both hands lifted her dress a bit and jumped in the puddle three times. Then she threw her head back and laughed before walking briskly toward me.

  “What is wrong with you?” I asked only half-jokingly.

  “I love getting caught in the rain. It’s so cleansing,” she said.

  “Really? To me it’s just wet,” I said flatly.

  I kept wiping off the water the best I could. “I’ve had these shoes less than a week. They’re probably ruined,” I said, upset. “I hope the tux isn’t ruined. They’ll charge me a fortune to replace it.”

  “Oh, first world problems,” she sarcastically responded.

  “Are you kidding me? I shouldn’t be upset?”

  “You’re funny,” she said. “You always focus on silly things.”

  “Says the woman who is soaking wet and has to beg people for money in ten minutes.”

  “I’ll tell them it’s for towels.”

  I laughed a bit with some relief and said, “You are so weird...resourceful, though, I have to admit.”

  We waited about ten minutes under the awning until the rain died down enough to continue on across the plaza to the museum.

  I spent most of the evening shaking hands and scanning the crowd for photographers and reporters. I had to keep my eye on them to prevent a public relations problem. Every time I noticed one approaching us or getting too close, I simply walked away from Chelsea. I walked to the bar or to the men’s room and waited until they passed or had taken a photo before returning to Chelsea.

  Many of the people with whom we had spent time chatting remarked that Chelsea and I made ‘such a nice couple’. Every time Chelsea heard that, she beamed, looked at me and tightened her grip on my arm. But it only made me uncomfortable. I would smile and remain silent so as to not offend anyone.

  Chelsea and I were talking with one of the board members and his wife, along with the museum’s director. I got lost during a discussion of art that seemed like it required a master’s degree, and I didn’t think my assessment of Picasso would be appropriate. I did my best to stay tuned in, but between my constant reconnaissance for photographers and the pressures of the job and campaigning, I drifted off.

  That’s when Sarah walked into the museum. Almost immediately, heads turned and bodies began gravitating slowly toward her. Like a rock star walking into an after-concert party, she was the center of attention. The room practically worshipped her.

  My heart sank. In a wave, my nerves twitched from my chest to my legs. All the phone calls she ignored, all the times she avoided me, all the messages sent through intermediaries waved off and now, I had her in the same room with me. This could be my only chance to get through to her. I just wanted to talk to her.

  I gently pulled my arm away from Chelsea and stealthily put some distance between us. I kept my eyes on Sarah. I still didn’t see anyone with her. Either she broke up with that Ryan guy or she felt a construction worker would be out-of-place at such an event.

  I jockeyed for position before she saw me. Surely, if she did, she would turn the other way. Eventually, she made her way to the bar and I seized on the opportunity. I walked to the bar and stood next to her.

  “Hi,” I nervously s
aid.

  She turned and was disappointed to see me. “Oh, hi.”

  “How have you been?” I predictably said.

  “Good,” she said flatly. “How about you?”

  “Okay,” I said, “I see you’re here alone.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but Ryan is back home helping to take care of his brother who was in a car accident last weekend,” she said.

  Ouch

  “Oh, I see,”

  “I see you have moved on,” she said, with a nod of her head toward Chelsea.

  No, no, no....I haven’t. Please don’t think that.

  “Oh, no...no, no. Just a date,” I said, denying any relationship with Chelsea.

  “Not from what I’ve been hearing,” she said.

  I nervously chuckled. “Well, I don’t know what you’ve been hearing or from whom you’ve been hearing it, but no, I’m not in a relationship.”

  This is a disaster. I’m still waiting for you, Sarah. I’m not with this woman.

  “Well, whatever you say,” Sarah said. “I guess Diane must be mistaken.”

  Diane?!? I’ll kill her. I will rip her lungs out.

  I laughed as a distraction and as a way to stall. “Diane? Yeah, well, I’m sure she has her reasons for telling you that story, but no, I am not in a relationship with anyone.”

  “Whatever you say,” Sarah said, taking her drink from the bartender. “Well, enjoy your evening.”

  She turned to walk away.

  “Wait,” I said. “Can we talk in private?” I pleaded.

  “Why?”

  “Do I need a reason? Can’t we just talk?”

  “No. Don’t bother me,” she demanded. “Don’t do this here or anywhere. It’s over. We’ve both moved on.”

  No, no, no...

  “Please,” I said, but it fell on deaf ears. Sarah simply walked away.

  I couldn’t have imagined a worse outcome. All the scenes I had played out in my head of how I would charm her when I finally got the chance to see her and talk to her again went up in a puff of smoke. I simply never imagined it going like that.

  I don’t remember much of the rest of the evening. I was preoccupied trying to wrap my head around the fact that it may truly be over between Sarah and me, and how heavy with finality her words seemed to be.

  Chapter Twelve

  Chelsea invited me over to her place for dinner the following night. She could tell something happened or that I was bothered by something. She wanted to comfort me without probing for the catalyst for my mood. She seemed to just genuinely want to ease my burden.

  On the way to her place, Yvonne called and told me it was time to expand out of the western part of the state and head east. “If you can duplicate what you’ve done so far out west, we will have Spencer on the run,” she said confidently. “I’m hearing nothing but good things about you. Thank you for your dedication to this.”

  That gave me a shot in the arm. If I couldn’t have Sarah, at least my political future was bright.

  Dinner was ready when I got to Chelsea’s, so we sat right down to dinner. We enjoyed her baked salmon, sweet peas and mashed potatoes, but, despite Yvonne’s call, I was thinking too much about the night before. I don’t know if Chelsea saw me talking with Sarah or even if she knew it was Sarah. She did notice, though, that I was disengaged from our dinner conversation. She tried to get my mind back into the present.

  She cleared the table and brought the bottle of wine over to the table and topped off my glass. “Hey, you told me that there’s a third reason to vote and that you needed my pay stub to show me,” she said, getting up from the table to get her purse. She pulled it out, handed it to me and jokingly said, “Here. Dazzle me.”

  I smiled and took the envelope. She knew how to get to me. “Alright, let’s see what we have here,” I said, taking her stub out of the envelope. When I did, I noticed that it was perforated and that she receives an actual paper paycheck. “Wait a second. Do you get a paper check that you have to cash at a bank?”

  “Yeah, why?” she said.

  “Oh, I don’t know. In this century we have such a thing as direct deposit. It goes right into your bank account. You don’t have to go to a bank to cash a check anymore.”

  “I know, but I like visiting the people at the bank every Friday. I like talking to them.”

  “You are so weird,” I said, giving up on trying to change her. It wasn’t going to happen. I was beginning to know her that well. I took a pen and pointed to and circled the figure next to the words ‘Fed Tax’ and said, “See that number? That’s how much of your money you send to congress and the president to spend for you, okay? Same thing for the medicare tax and this social security tax. All of that can be increased or decreased and spent at the whim of the people in congress and the white house, right?”

  She seemed to have no idea where I was going, but said, “Okay. I understand.”

  Then I circled the figure next to ‘State’ and said, “This is the money you send to the governor and state legislature to spend for you. Again, at their whim, they can take more or less from you, right?”

  “Um...okay.”

  “And this amount of money,” I said, pointing to the ‘Local Tax’. “This is what you send to me and council to spend. So, don’t you think it’s pretty important to have the right people in congress, the white house, the governor’s office, etcetera?”

  “Yes, I see what you’re saying.”

  “And this is why you should vote,” I said.

  It was another good shot in the arm for me and helped loosen me up a little for Chelsea. We enjoyed the rest of the evening watching a movie and talking.

  It was around 11:30pm when I left Chelsea’s place. Even with it being so late and the relatively pleasant evening, I was still restless. The encounter with Sarah was still eating at me. Sarah’s apartment was on my way home. In fact, it was situated almost exactly halfway between Chelsea’s apartment and my place. At the second light, I made a left instead of continuing on the road home and headed toward Sarah’s apartment building. I made two more turns and pulled into the parking lot of her building.

  So, now what? What are you going to do, storm the apartment? This is stupid and borderline insane.

  I saw Sarah’s car and then noticed Ryan’s parked right next to it. I pulled into a spot a few spaces down from theirs and turned off the car. I looked around to make sure nobody could see me. A car had been behind me before I pulled into the lot, but, thankfully, it must have continued on. I slumped down into my seat a bit.

  Sarah’s apartment faced the parking lot. I knew exactly which one was hers and I knew the layout from the street. Her living room light was on. I sat and stared at that window, looking around every so often to make sure nobody was around or watching me.

  The living room light went off and the bedroom light came on. My heart sank. I saw Sarah briefly at the window as she pulled down the shade. I got that sick feeling again in my gut. I could feel the blood leaving my face and a tingling in my arms. Within a minute or two, the bedroom light went off. I wanted to get out of the car and run up to her apartment. I wanted to throw a rock through her bedroom window.

  I felt my body start to shake and my left leg was twitching.