Fred & Mary

by Kipjo Ewers

  His sister took the hint from the sternness in his voice not to press the issue any further. Cynthia following suit poked her husband letting him know with eye contact that they should leave as well. Sara was the first to storm off heading for the door not even giving him a second look.

  Barney mimicked Sara’s silent treatment heading for the door. He opted to flip Fred off as he left to show him how he felt. Cynthia following behind him gave him a sharp smack across his back for being childish.

  Before Veronica could leave, Fred extended his hand requesting his spare keys back.

  “Fred …come on …I’m sorry.”

  “Veronica …please.”

  She sadly rolled her eyes as she went into her purse pulling out her keys handing them to him.

  “I’ve been back for two days, and you didn’t even to call me,” She lectured him.

  “I’m sorry,” he glanced down at the floor. “We’ll catch-up later. I promise.”

  He caught her looking at the doll over his shoulder with some concern before giving him a reluctant nod. As he escorted her to the door, she quickly turned giving him a hug. It softened him up enough to return it.

  “I’ll talk to you later. I promise.”

  As Fred closed the door, he pulled his shades from out of his pocket putting them on. He then turned to see her standing up with her arms folded and trademark displeased visage that he knew all too well.

  He rolled his eyes as she turned on the audio text messaging feature on his phone.

  “You went too far, again.”

  “Really?” Fred snorted. “I went too far?”

  “You had no right to embarrass my sister in front of your sister and our friends.”

  “She embarrassed herself!” He shot back. “Telling me that I should have given her your shit like she’s entitled to it, who the hell does that?”

  “It did not warrant embarrassing her!” She returned fire. “That is my sister!”

  “You always do this shit to me,” Fred wagged a finger at her. “Just because I don’t talk or deliver things the way you deliver them, I’m either too soft or an asshole. Why don’t you get off your ass next time and do all the talking, like you usually do?”

  “Asshole is your word …I use prick.”

  Her response brought a snarl to his face as he remembered how much he hated her calling him that.

  “It’s called balance Fred, which I am constantly saying that you lack sometime! You had no right to tear her head off over a dress, which she had every right to ask about!”

  “She wants a dress so goddamn badly, let her go buy one of her own with the money I gave her! She ain’t getting any of your shit, and that’s final!”

  “So, you don’t mind giving her a couple of hundred dollars from my hard-earned royalties every month, but you draw the line in regards to my clothes and jewelry?” Mary returned fire.

  “Money comes and goes like a snap!” He roared. “I could have given it out of my paycheck, but since you were currently dead, I didn’t see the fucking difference!”

  A haunting silence came over the room, created by Fred as he realized what he just said.

  “I …I didn’t mean …what I just said …” he apologized with watery eyes.

  The room became cold as she took a step back from him.

  “But you said it.”

  He thought she was going to vanish that the doll would go limp and either collapse onto the floor or the couch. Instead, she did something more painful.

  She walked away heading for their bedroom.

  “Mary, I’m sorry,” He reached to grab her arm. “Baby I’m sorry …”

  Her response was a haunting howl of anger and pain that forced Fred to scurry back to the mantle clutching his chest. His violent shaking barely allowed him to feel or hear her message which was in caps.

  “Do not touch me, and do not follow me.”

  She stormed off to the back slamming the bedroom door behind her.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  For the next hour, Fred sat in the living room feeling lower than dirt itself, and wishing he could cut his tongue out.

  Now and then he would jump at the sound of a haunting yowl coming from the bedroom. Feeling that he waited long enough, Fred rose to his feet and took his time creeping to the back to check on his wife.

  The closer he got, his breath became dragon smoke bellowing from his lips from the frosty air.

  Reaching the door, he slowly turned the knob cracking it open. He was hesitant to enter, believing she would slam it shut in his face. Building a bit more confidence, Fred pushed the door open further and poked his head in to witness a sight that made him feel like the worst person in the world.

  She laid on the bed, curled up in the fetal position with her back turned to him. Now and then a faint eerie whimper echoed within the room, telegraphing her sadness.

  Fred meekly stepped into the room running his fingers over his bald dome searching for the right words to apologize for what he said earlier.

  “I forgot to tell you, being a prick is a genetic defect in my family,” Fred swallowed as he neared the bed, “Comes mostly from my father’s side …that and having a very thick penis.”

  The air became colder, signaling that she was not in the mood for his sordid humor.

  As Fred timidly sat on the bed, silence enveloped the room again. He reached over to caress her legs, but she pulled them away.

  “I still remember that last time she made you cry,” he whispered. “You were so looking forward to shopping for your wedding dress. Cynthia, V, Marsha, and the rest of your bridesmaids all showed up …but the one person that you wanted to be with you more than anyone else that day was Sara.”

  Fred waggled his bottom jaw to suppress the anger that was building from the story he retold.

  “And then she sent you that bullshit text message about double booking. That she was out shopping for a bridal dress with one of her friends who were also getting married. I remember you calling me, and how small your voice was over the phone. I never hated anyone in my life, but I hated your sister from that day on, because not only did she hurt you …she made it so nothing I did or said on that day could take that pain away.”

  Fred lowered his head as he wiped the mist forming in his eyes.

  “I helped her out because I knew that is what you’d want me to do after you were gone. But in my mind, she had no right to your things,” Fred shook his head. “She didn’t deserve them. After all, the messed up hurtful things, she did and said to you, especially in my presence …she didn’t deserve to have a piece of you …of what you built to become you. Even if you forgave her, I didn’t. So, it was easier to give her the money.”

  He felt her legs slowly extend outward allowing him to caress them. She shifted forward on the bed giving him space to lay behind her and spoon her. Holding her close, he planted a kiss on the back of her neck.

  “I’m so sorry,” Fred whispered to her.

  “I don’t want to be dead anymore.”

  Although the audio text didn’t emit any emotion when she said it, Fred burst into inconsolable tears as he held her tighter. She turned burying her face in his chest which made it worse.

  In his mind, her voice was small again, and nothing he could do would take the pain she felt away from her.

  CHAPTER 10

   The next day Fred sat in his office submerged in his thoughts. His work productivity was nil in the aftermath of the intervention, and the argument he had with Mary left a bad taste in both his mouth and brainpan.

  It also did not help that early that morning, Barney came into his office and politely told him off.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  His mind wandered back to the eight-minute awkward conversation, with Barney doing most of the talking. He had expected him to walk in at some point in the day
and talk about what happened at the intervention; he just didn’t think it would have been right after he settled in.

  His friend strolled into his office with a face he had never seen on him in regards to him.

  It was one of indifference.

  “Two things, are we still on for the 3 O’clock?” was his first coldly delivered question.

  “Yeah, I got the numbers from my team last night,” Fred apprehensively nodded. “I’m going to look them over again in a couple of minutes.”

  “Okay,” Barney nodded. “Secondly, I understand that I probably overstepped yesterday with the intervention, and I apologize. If you’re so hell bent on blowing up your life, I have no right to stop you. But I’m asking since I know Cynthia won’t ask that you not come to Ethan’s birthday party.”

  Fred sat there both stunned and hurt as if Barney had smacked him in the face with a basketball.

  “Both my kids look at you like you’re their uncle,” Barney continued. “He’s too young to understand whatever this is you’re going through, and I would like very much not to expose either of them to it.”

  “Thank you for the half-ass apology?” Fred leaned back in his chair with confused irritation on his face. “What reaction were you expecting from me Barney when you bring my sister into something that I had not told her about and was no one’s business?”

  “I think it became everyone’s business when Cynthia caught you lip locking your new girlfriend on a public park bench.”

  Fred sat there with a stuck expression on his visage searching his brain for a powerful retort.

  “Still none of my damn business, right?” Barney beat him to the draw. “Well let’s just say I’m not the only one noticing that you’ve been blowing off clients, skipping meetings, appeared to be checked out for the majority of the day, or running out of here when the clock hits 5:30. You might want to address that before someone comes and talks to you about it. Unless you no longer care because it’s sucking the life out of you.”

  “What is this really about Barney?” Fred scowled. “Because I don’t go to the comic book store with you anymore because we don’t hang out to shoot the shit like we usually do?”

  “No, you prick, because you won’t stay the fuck home and deal with whatever is going on with you,” Barney shot back. “Because all this time you’ve been trying to maintain this front that you are fine when you are not fine when you have never been fine! You’re in one of the few jobs that bless you with four months’ bereavement leave, and you took two weeks after the funeral and only because Bronson ordered you to do so! I took a month because Mary was my friend too. So, sticking my neck out to keep you in one fucking piece is more so for her, because I know that is what she would want me to do. So, I could give two shits if you ever go to another comic book store with me, or want to hang out. What I take offense is you lying to my face this whole time, and then making me out to be the bad guy when I am not. I never did anything to you to deserve that.”

  Fred with no defense to his friend’s admonishment of him, sat there as Barney headed to the door. He stopped to say one more thing.

  “Oh, and narcing me out for copping a feeling on your little dolly, was a real bitch move.”

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  As Fred sat in his chair stewing in his emotions, a knock on the door pulled him out of his memories.

  He looked up to see a timid Gwen poking her head into his office.

  “Uh Fred, I know you said you didn’t want to be disturbed, but your father is here.”

  “My father?” Fred raised a stunned eyebrow.

  “Yes, he told me to come and personally say he was here,” she nodded. “Should I say you are not available?”

  He muttered a curse under his breath while kneading the bridge of his nose.

  “No …tell him I’ll be right out to see him. Thank you, Gwen.”

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  Five minutes later, Fred walked out with his professional armor on to meet his father. As usual, the old man came dressed to the nine adorned in a three-piece navy-blue business suit in summer California weather, gleaming wing tips, and the first Rolex he ever bought even though he had at least eight in his collection. His dark skin popped from the crisp white shirt underneath, and neatly trimmed pepper goatee and mustache he wore.

  He still had a tungsten intimidation factor that instilled the fear of God in Fred when he was young and pissed him off as an adult.

  “Hey, dad.”

  “Fred,” he returned with his trademark gruff voice.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “It is lunch time, and I came to see if my son would want to have lunch with me,” he answered. “Normally I would call, but I figure if I came here in person, you had less of a chance to turn me down.”

  Fred knew his comment meant that he wanted to speak, and he was not going to take no for an answer.

  “Gwen, anyone looking for me, please tell them I’ll be back around two.”

  “Okay,” she nodded.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  Twenty minutes later a perturbed Fred and his father sat in Addison. Having already eaten Mary’s lunch before his father showed up, he ordered the Crème Fraîche Cheesecake with a side of espresso. His father went with the Coriander, Black Pepper, and Rosemary Crusted Tuna.

  He was more irritated over the fact that his father insisted on them driving his car instead of taking separate vehicles. It made it more difficult for him to devise a proper exit strategy should their lunch date turn from pleasant to disagreeable.

  “So how are you doing these days?” His father began the conversation before putting a piece of tuna in his mouth.

  “I’m alright dad.” He answered dryly. “How’s business?”

  “Business is business, your cousin Patrick is trying to sell me on expanding the company’s territory to Canada, Texas and New Mexico.”

  “Doesn’t Dallas Limo Service have a lock on that region?” Fred sneered while cutting into his cheesecake.

  “Yes, but they don’t offer our discounted executive armed security and armored vehicle package,” Mr. Garrett proudly gruffed, “which is amusing considering they are the champion state of the second amendment.”

  “Guess they can’t afford to hire ex-military and Special Forces soldiers,” Fred shrugged.

  “Which is something you came up with,” His father smirked pointing his fork at him.

  Instead of taking the compliment, Fred gave him a look warning him not to let the next words to come out of his mouth be “That is why you should be running the company instead of slaving away for someone else.” Mr. Garrett took the hint, keeping the peace for now.

  “So, what is this I hear about you running around town with a life size doll like a mad man?”

  Fred leaned back in his chair and snorted at his father’s tactless subtly.

  “Wow, don’t even warm a dude up. Who told you?”

  “Who didn’t tell me, you’re apparently all over the web.” Mr. Garrett locked eyes with him. “Given the situation, people are asking me if it is some therapeutic method you’re using to deal with what happened to you.”

  “And what exactly happened to me dad?” Fred asked making sure to lace his question with apparent hostility.

  It was another warning for his father to be cautious with what he said next. Mr. Garrett answered his son back with a face that said he did not want to create a scene nor did he appreciate being sized up by his son.

  “Listen, son, I understand …you lost your wife, I more than anyone else knows how you feel, there’s nothing more painful than that, but you got to get it together. Maybe you should take some time off, get some more help, or better help if it was that same crackpot shrink that advised this doll thing. But whatever is g
oing on has got to stop. You’re a full-grown man, not a seven-year-old girl.”

  “So …are you advising me …or telling me what to do dad?” Fred leaned forward.

  “I’m advising you to get a hold of your life son,” his father brought the authoritative bass to his voice. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but death is a part …”

  “You finish that sentence, and you’ll be finding this cheese cake over that cute little suit of yours,” Fred growled.