Here was the thing, though: confronting Janine would be “going nuclear,” as Fez, no stranger to marital woes himself, might say. Before this Les Hough business, Kenny believed his and Janine’s core values (work, family, fidelity) were in sync and unyielding, but now everything felt open to debate. While one affair shouldn’t be enough to bring them down, Kenny worried it might.
Here was the other thing: Kenny’s golden glow had faded. The SCA Capital offer had fallen through, his job search was stalled, and instead of caring for Janine, Dog, their house, or himself, he was phoning it in at Ellery and licking his wounds at the bar while his chores piled up. So he didn’t feel strong enough to go toe-to-toe with Les Hough, who, in addition to being Janine’s boss, was very, very white and very, very rich, far richer than Kenny.
Upstairs, Janine was playing with Dog. He could hear her ask the dog questions, then make doglike responses. She was so light and playful, so loving. Why Dog? Why Les Hough? Why not him? Other men competed with kids for their wives; Kenny had to compete with other men—and a pet—while remaining childless.
“Jeannie?” He grabbed a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a box of Triscuits and trotted upstairs, where he stripped to his boxers, climbed into bed, shooed away the dog, and wrapped his wife in his arms. Until today (May 21, 2010), it had been 1,481 days since their most recent fight. Sure, they bickered, but in the whole of their relationship, they only had two blowups on record: the first in 1999, the second in 2006. They were still young in 1999, so it was easy to recover, but 2006 was a different story. They had history; more was at stake. One night a minor dispute ramped up too quickly; words like character, work ethic, and values were tossed out—hard words to yank back. In the end, Janine stormed off to her parents’ in Saddle River. Is this it? Kenny wondered. Are we done? Distraught, he called her the next day, and Janine came home. But the ensuing months were dicey. Faced with the threat of another breakdown, they tiptoed around; it took weeks to get back on track. No way Kenny wanted to go through that again. Which is why, rather than ask about Les Hough, all he said was, “Let’s not fight.” Better to keep the clock ticking, add one more day to their long-running tally. Anything else would cost too much, and after 1,481 days of relative ease, Kenny was afraid to risk it. “I’m sorry for everything, Jeannie.”
“Me, too.” Sighing, she burrowed against his chest. “I’m sorry, too.”
They had sex, but it was quick, and when they finished, Kenny felt lonelier than ever. “Jeannie?” he whispered, but she was already asleep.
THE FOLLOWING MONDAY, Kenny was in his office when Rosa called. “We’re making a change,” she said. “Wait there.” Then she hung up. No hello, no how are you, no nothing.
Kenny didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything: working out, finding another job, or doing the stupid job he had. Over the weekend, he’d lost his grip on another rung of the mental-health ladder and slipped deeper into the black maw of depression. Now all he could do was sit at his desk, log on to Facebook, and check Janine’s feed for any sign of Les Hough.
Rosa wasn’t the only one treating him like shit. The rest of the department was too, which he figured was related to his talk with Rutherford last month. It pissed Kenny off that when the CEO asked for his honest assessment of the group, instead of respecting that another professional was speaking to him man-to-man, he’d turned around and told Rosa everything. Or so it seemed; Kenny had to piece all this together because people would barely acknowledge him—including Rutherford, who refused to return his calls. That one chat had triggered a streak of bad luck. The Les Hough business had driven a wedge into his marriage. Then SCA rejected him. Then he got iced by the whole office. Kenny was still spinning from all the injustice.
He heard Rosa shuffling down the hall. When she pulled on his door, it swung open too fast; she lost her footing, but quickly righted herself. “Kenny! I told you to get this fixed. You know what a lawsuit could cost us?”
He focused on his computer screen. “I thought we were hiring someone to do that.”
Lucy strolled in and sat down next to Rosa. “What did you say? I missed that.”
“I said I thought we were hiring a facilities guy.” Lucy was always around lately, like she was checking up on him. Had Rutherford said something to her, too?
“Sit up, Kenny.” Lucy spoke quietly. “Look at us, not your screen.” She crossed her legs. “Put down your phone. Come on, you’re at work. Act like it.”
Resentful of her tone, but unnerved by her new look, Kenny complied. Gone was the sloppy woman wearing clunky glasses. In her place was a sleek executive whose steel-blue eyes cut through him. When combined with a form-fitting black dress, sheer stockings, silver jewelry, and sky-high heels, the overall effect was chilling. Now this, he thought, was a woman he could see on Wall Street. Rosa, on the other hand, looked exhausted and messy. Her jacket was frayed, her pantyhose had a run in the knee, and her eyes were washed out, with dark circles underneath.
“On the phone you mentioned a change,” he asked her. “Did you mean for me?”
“Peter is gone,” Rosa replied, her voice loud and shaky, as if she was first hearing the news and reeling from shock. “He is not coming back.”
“Peter’s been gone,” Kenny said. “Candidates have been in and out. What’s the holdup?”
“Your buddy Rutherford decided not to spend the money.” Lucy raised her eyebrows. “He wants to tap existing resources, and your name came up.”
“I’m not fixing broken doors, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
Rosa butted in. “We’ll give you twenty hours of Katherine’s time to help you—”
“Wait, wait, wait. Are you seriously asking me to take on facilities?” He had an MBA from Wharton; did they really want him plunging toilets?
Lucy shook her head. “We’re not asking. Rosa and Leo have been overseeing operations since December. They don’t have the time anymore. You do.”
“We have checklists for everything,” Rosa said. “Talk to Leo if you have . . . have . . .” She squinted, as if trying to see the word in the air.
“Questions?” Kenny filled in.
“I’m right here!” Leo stuck his head in the door.
“Leo!” Rosa whirled around. “Are you spying? You’re always creeping up behind me.”
“Of course not. I was passing by and heard my name. Oh, sorry, Lucy, I didn’t realize you’d be here. Are you supposed to be?”
“Yes, Leo, of course. Check the schedule.”
“So where’s Katie?” Leo asked, glancing into the hall.
“Not here, obviously, but she’s not supposed to be. I’m here. Check the schedule, Leo.”
“What schedule?” Rosa asked Kenny. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”
Kenny had no idea. Leo and Lucy were acting out some absurd comedy of errors that didn’t include him. Fuck this place. He should quit—once again they were asking him to take on projects beyond the scope of his job. But if he quit, what would he tell prospective employers? What would he tell Janine? Most important, with no job, he’d be dependent on his wife, and Les Hough, that fucker, would seem even more godlike. “If I take operations, will I get a pay bump?”
“Don’t be greedy,” Rosa said. “No one likes a greedy person, especially when he shows up to work unshaven and disheveled. You used to wear a suit every day. What happened?”
“I’m having troubles at home,” he said, trying to elicit compassion.
“Please.” Lucy’s irritation was palpable. “Stop acting like a teenager. This is a business. Rosa is your boss. Seriously: get it together.” But then her tone shifted; her voice lost its edge. “Look,” she said, smoothing her dress with the flat of her hand. “I realize we sprung this on you without warning. So if it’s not what you want, we’ll understand.”
“Thank you.” Relieved, Kenny’s own voice faltered. “I appreciate that.” Because Lucy had been so cold to him—they all had—her offer felt like a small
kindness.
Standing now, she turned to go. “Let us know what you want to do. And of course, if you decide to move on, there’ll be no hard feelings.”
Startled, Kenny raised his hand. “Wait—if I don’t do facilities, I won’t have a job?” He pictured Rob Hirsch sitting in some dirty unemployment office; less than a month gone, and already forgotten. Kenny wondered if he’d bought a new car—probably not, he figured.
Dismayed, Rosa shook her head. “We’re a team; we’re supposed to work together. But you don’t do your fair share. When you take more than you’re willing to give, it never works out in your favor. Trust me. I know from experience: the organization always wins.”
“I need a decision by Friday,” Lucy said. Resting a manicured hand on Rosa’s arm, she guided her out. Neither woman said good-bye.
Alone, Kenny scrolled through job sites. He was stuck. Anywhere else, he could take his case to HR, but Rosa was chief, and Lucy was de facto chief. Again, he thought of Rutherford. What had Kenny told him that was so terrible? That firing Rob was smart? That Rosa might have cognitive issues? That Lucy had given Rosa a nickname? All of this was true! Plus, Kenny was entitled to know why operations had been thrust on him. So he left the CEO a fifth message, and this time the big man called back.
“Son.” Rutherford’s twang was on full display. “You need to go through the proper channels with this kind of issue. As your supervisor, Rosa Guerrero is empowered by me to make decisions for HR, so please direct any and all questions to her.”
THAT NIGHT JANINE was out with a friend (which Kenny figured meant fucking Les Hough) so he was alone, eating wings and watching ESPN, when his mother called. “Hey, Ma,” he said, happy to hear her voice. “Sorry I’ve been MIA. Work is insane.”
“Kenny, I’m calling because your father had a fender bender. Don’t worry, he’s fine, although”—Glenda chuckled—“his pride is bruised.”
Kenny was startled. “But he’s okay? When was this?”
“He’s okay, but the car’s totaled. It happened a week ago, but it’s not the first time—”
“A week ago?” While it was true that Kenny hadn’t called in a while, he was their only son. He shouldn’t be hearing this kind of news a week later! “Where’s Sarge now? And what do you mean, it’s not the first time? He’s had other accidents?”
“Your dad is sleeping, but if you call tomorrow, he’ll be thrilled. And yes, he has clipped the car before. It may be his depth perception, so we’re getting his eyes checked.”
Sarge was sleeping? It was only eight. “I’ll call him tomorrow,” Kenny promised. “Please tell him that, okay? Love you, Ma.” When he was a boy, Glenda used to call him her “only only,” which had made him cringe; now he missed it. He said good night to his mother and went up to bed. It was still early, but he was tired of waiting around for Janine.
TWO DAYS LATER, Kenny marched to Rosa’s office, determined to reason with her. It had been hard enough admitting to Fez that the SCA spot fell through. How could he say, Oh, guess what? I’m overseeing facilities now; how’s that for a career move?
Rosa’s door was closed, so Kenny stood in the hall, debating whether to leave a note.
“She’s out,” Katherine called from her cubicle. “Perhaps I can help you?”
“I’ll call her later, thanks.” Despite the fact that they were working together on two separate projects, Katherine was stiff and formal in his presence. Kenny found this upsetting. Even the secretary hated him! He wanted to strike up a conversation, but all he knew was that she lived in Queens, this was her first office job, and she came in crazy early. But she seemed smart, and, judging from her speed and accuracy entering payroll data, industrious. She was also the only one in their department who’d look at him. “So Katherine, how are you doing?” He stepped inside her cube, then backed out of it awkwardly, not wanting to impinge on her space. “What do you think of Ellery? Are we meeting your expectations, and all that?”
“It’s great, I love it. I’m learning so much.” She started to put her earbuds back in, but Kenny motioned for her to wait and then leaned over to whisper a secret.
“Some friendly advice?” Unsure where to put his hands, he gripped her nameplate. “You can do better than Ellery; the company’s dying. You’ll make lots more money somewhere else.”
She didn’t reply. Kenny was sure she’d start typing, but she only looked at her hands. “I like it here. Everyone is really nice. It’s a hundred times better than my last job.”
“Which was what?”
“Working at my uncle’s ice cream shop in Corona. I don’t have my degree, so all I can do is fast food or retail. I went to Baruch for two years,” she added quickly, “but my mom got sick, and I took time off to take care of her. I planned to go back, but she didn’t get better, and after she”—Katherine blinked a few times—“after she died, I didn’t have the money. So I’m grateful that Rosa hired me. To be honest, I’m more worried about her being happy with me than the other way around.
“It’s why I get here so early,” she continued. “To practice Excel and PowerPoint. Kenny, I felt so bad when we did those spreadsheets; I could tell you were frustrated with my questions. But you were so nice and so patient.” Her pale cheeks reddened. “I’m getting better. Next time we work together, I’ll be a pro!”
“No, no, you were great.” Guilt rose in his stomach. “I should’ve realized you might have trouble; I could’ve shown you shortcuts.” She was just a kid! This was her first real job! At his first job, his supervisor had hovered over him for two months! “It was wrong not to spend more time with you; I’m sorry I left you to fend for yourself.”
“I was embarrassed, I guess. Rosa goes on and on about how smart you are, and all your degrees, and I didn’t want you to think I was too inexperienced to be here.”
“Katherine, I’d never think that. And as you probably know, I’m on Rosa’s shit list at the moment, so I can’t imagine her saying anything positive about me.”
“Oh God, that’s not true. She tells me all the time to finish school. ‘Look at Kenny’”—Katherine mimicked Rosa’s earnest tone—“‘He’s got a big job, and he’s still in his thirties!’”
Hearing this shocked Kenny. Rosa praised him? She thought he had a big job? “I’m sorry about your mom, Katherine. If my mother had gotten sick, I like to believe I would’ve dropped out of school, but I don’t think that’s true.” He coughed, and his eyes watered.
Of course it wasn’t true. Case in point: Sarge had been in a car accident, and Kenny still wasn’t sure how it happened because he was too wrapped up in his own stupid life to find out. Yesterday, when he called to check in, Sarge had stonewalled him, so the two men sat without speaking much, the line crackling between them. “Bad connection,” Kenny said eventually. “It is,” Sarge agreed. Listening to his dad’s heavy breathing, he thought of their long-ago football games, the strength of Sarge’s body as he went out for a pass. “I got it!” he’d shout, already jumping. In those days, seeing his father leap into the air was like catching a glimpse of God: back arched, head up, arms spread like wings. Remembering this, Kenny felt a pang of remorse. Maybe he and Sarge didn’t talk like other fathers and sons, but there had been real tenderness between them, once. Shutting his eyes, he breathed along with Sarge over the wire, imagining their chests rising and falling in unison as if they shared one set of lungs, a single beating heart.
“I’m sorry about your mom,” he repeated. He felt sad for Katherine and doubly sad for himself, for his marriage, for Sarge. And yet, if anyone asked, he couldn’t say how his life had come undone, and so quickly. “I’m not close with my folks. We used to be, though.” This choked him up. The tears were in his throat, tightening his Adam’s apple. He swallowed them. Jesus, he told himself. Get a grip.
“You’d help them if they needed you. People surprise themselves when someone they love gets sick. Besides, they’re your parents. I couldn’t imagine anyone else taking care of
my mom.” She paused. “Hey, do you mind calling me Katie? Rosa says Katherine is more professional, but I can’t get used to it.”
This girl had him all wrong. He was not a good man, a man who’d make sacrifices for someone else, even his parents. Rather, he was brusque and selfish. A prick, basically. “You can call me Kenny. I mean, you should continue to . . . um . . . call me . . . Kenny.” His cheeks burned.
Katie nodded. Then she put in her earbuds and returned to her computer. Kenny didn’t want to stop talking, but had nothing more to offer, so he patted her nameplate and walked off. En route to his office, it occurred to him that operations might not be so terrible. If I take it, he thought, I can keep my job and stay here awhile. Then maybe Janine won’t be so angry. Maybe, too, I can get her to love me again.
He turned around. He wanted to tell Katie he could help her with Excel, but she was already bent over her keyboard, her fingers flying. Watching her golden head bob up and down, he caught the beat of her music, and for one brief, flickering moment, Kenny Verville—V as in Victory—could almost recall how it felt to be happy.
THAT NIGHT, TO Kenny’s relief, he and Janine rediscovered each other. She took the first step, but he made an effort, too. He picked up sushi and set the table with daisies, cloth napkins, and their wedding china. During dinner, he focused on her—UBS, friends, parents—and steered clear of any relationship talk. After, they sat on the deck in their matching coats, and he told her about the operations job. “It’s more responsibility. It will help the department. I want to contribute something of value, Jeannie; I want to make a lasting impression. At the moment, it seems Ellery is the only place where I can do that, so I may as well give it a try.”
After his conversation with Katie, it had occurred to Kenny that his life with Janine was centered around accumulation, consumption, and not much else. They spent entire weekends driving from Bed, Bath & Beyond to Home Depot and then to Costco, where they bought pallets of meat lasagna, sixty-count egg rolls, and four pounds of butter—food they’d never eat, not in several lifetimes. He wanted to ask her why they did this, where they were headed. What about kids? Did she still want kids? They used to talk about having a litter of children and taking them to visit Penn and Disneyland. What happened to that idea? Or their plans to drive cross-country? Should he suggest they rent a Winnebago and see the Grand Canyon? (Probably not.) But here was the real question: If Janine was still sleeping with Les Hough, what did a grand house or his-and-hers coats or any of their plans for the future matter?
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