Chapter Twelve
One of the more interesting, intriguing aspects of office social protocol is the farewell lunch. This mandatory social interaction affords time for disparate workers to break bread, to say farewell to a departing comrade, and more importantly give stick figure supervisors a chance to say a few words that express complete ignorance about the human being that’s being feted. Today’s guest of honor is Toby, a guy who spent few minutes actually talking to his fellow workmates. In fact, the only time Toby took the time to converse was last week.
Toby stood sternly in the middle of the office break room and voiced a short worded sentence to each person who entered, “Someone took my tomato!” Yes, Toby’s tomato had disappeared from the frig, and Toby was distraught. Poor Toby would soon learn the tomato of his dreams was tossed in the trash because it had reached the end of its usefulness. Mr. Tomato had taken on the appearance of the plague and the bittersweet aroma of, well a cross between...you get the idea. So, you ask, how did Mr. Tomato get to this sorry state of affairs. Like many food items brought to work, the tomato was placed in the frig with good intentions, but was swiftly blocked from view by an assortment of bottles and lunch bags. Toby forgot about the tomato until six days past post-mortem when, as he was heading to the food court, he realized he had a tomato in the frig.
Now Toby stood there accusing each of us of ‘killing’ his tomato. Little did Toby know of the ins and outs of ‘office fun;’ nor how the participants of the office pool tried to keep his tomato on life support until some lucky person correctly guessed the day the tomato would be missed by Toby. But as I said, Toby noticed the absence of his vegetable days after Mr. Tomato had bit the dust. Doug was declared the winner and savored the fresh coffee paid for by the winner’s purse, all of $3.00.
Well, Mr. Tomato was last week, and although Toby was still bemoaning his loss as we piled into a local restaurant, we needed to put our differences aside and assemble one and all to say goodbye to Toby. But, as we are only human, the group showed Toby the same office social indifference displayed at all functions; few stopped their aside conversations to talk to Toby.
Just as Toby’s immediate supervisor was standing up to say something appropriate for the occasion, my cell phone vibrated. I was polite enough to go outside to answer the call. Heading out the door I overheard Kris telling someone “Dave’s pocket pal just woke him up with a cheap thrill.”
The call was from Breen's cell phone, “How’s the party?”
“We were having a very lively academic discussion on the pros and cons of surreptitiously watering a refrigerated tomato to influence color change and decomposition.”
“Nice lunchtime discussion, no wonder you fit in. I called to see if you can leave early today?”
“Why?”
“You should never answer a woman who wants you to leave work early with a ‘why’. Or do you need a better reason than to see me?”
“Sorry...wait a sec,” Toby’s boss was coming through the door. She looks at me and lamely says “paged.” “Me too,” holding the phone away from my ear. “I’m back. A quick explanation was in order as to why I left the festivities.”
“Okay, but answer my question like you mean it.”
“What time?”
“You learn fast. Three, I’ll meet you in the lobby of your building.”
Within seconds of my reentering the restaurant my cell phone buzzes again and as I head for the door someone asks if I paid a friend to call me. This time it’s Donna’s office number. Back outside, “Ok, how did you know to call me on my cell phone?”
“No hello, just an interrogation?”
“I’m a skeptic and don’t believe in coincidences. What can I do for lovely Donna?”
“So sweet. Breen said you were at an office function.”
“She there?” I could hear Breen in the background saying, “Great, guess he’ll ask next what she doing there.”
“What she doing there?”
“What big ears you have grandpa. Just a girl thing visit.”
Do I ask the obvious, nope; the obvious is Breen and Donna cooking up something. “Dave can I borrow Dog for the evening?”
I was definitely not expecting that question, “Borrow Dog?”
“Yeah, just for the evening. I’ll bring him home about eleven.”
So, Donna wants to ‘borrow’ Dog and Breen wants me to leave work early. Donna reads the pause in the conversation, “Breen he thinks Dog and you are connected.”
“Well tell him to...no wait, let me tell him.” She takes the phone, “Don’t get your hopes up, Donna’s need to borrow Dog is a coincidence; and besides Dog’s a gentleman and would keep his eyes closed, which is more than we could say about you.”
“Tell Donna okay, but she better not bring Dog back drunk or try to get him laid.”
“Dave!”
“You think I’m joking, that woman is a bad influence on Dog.”
“Here, he said not to get Dog drunk or laid. How do you put up with his sick sense of humor?”
I hear Donna laughing as she retakes the phone, “it’s your problem now Breen. I’ll swing by and pick up Dog about four.”
“Donna, just remember to walk him before you put him in your car. I’d feed him at your place when you get there and take him out about nine...or just before you leave to bring him back.”
“No problem, I still have the sixteen hundred page instruction manual you gave me when I watched him the last time. You don’t seem interested in why I need to borrow Dog?”
It all suddenly clicked, “Your sis is coming over for dinner and brother-in-law does not like dogs, ergo abbreviated stay at Donna’s place.”
“You speculating?”
“No, Emily told me about sis coming for a visit and you were thinking of a way to keep the stop at your place short.”
“You just put that together. So how come you had trouble knowing when a woman wants you to join her on the hotel terrace?”
“Beautiful as she was, I thought she was too young.”
“Good answer!”
Breen wanted to take advantage of a great sale on a TV, and wanted me to be there to carry it. And Donna, she liked her sister, but her brother-in-law liked to talk politics, religion, and the glorious attributes of high fiber diets. All subjects that were, at the moment, too much for Donna to take. Donna was concerned about problems at work and a shortened visit would preclude the chance of her sister discovering Donna’s concerns.
And my concern for Donna’s wellbeing was too important to overlook, even if I did spend almost every moment thinking about Breen. And thinking was, what thinking is, thoughts about the question: just who was Breen? I had now spent enough time with her to draw some conclusions. She was not a Barbie doll. She was not the young woman I had known so many years ago, both by age and what had transpired in her life since we last met. She was the same person, but so different; all of the physical, mental, and emotional experiences she had encountered had added to and taken away from the Breen I had been dreaming of. As for myself, I appeared to her just as affected by this passing of time metamorphosis.
So who was Breen? I felt the same desire, the same love, and the same unyielding ache in my heart, my soul, for her. It was just I now looked at her with more clarity. When we had first met years ago I conveniently overlooked her faults because I was blinded by love, as well as sexual desire. When we parted company my mind was suddenly opened to receive negative thoughts, and I saw faults. But as I realized what I had lost, and I use the term ‘lost’ prefaced with the terms ‘maybe’ and ‘what if,’ the years of memories eventually turned Breen once again into a perfect human being, the perfect woman, and the perfect lover.
Now I needed to assess my feelings because I wanted to want her, not just need her. Karen would have been need, and I knew I liked Karen far too much to use her like that, assuming she would have allowed us to become an ‘item.’ But Bree
n wanted to deepen the relationship; to push the envelope. When she sat on my lap while on the merry-go-round, again in her apartment, whenever she kissed me, and with her happiness that we were an ‘item’ my heart was lifted above the heavens; my world felt so complete.
Age brings with it both wisdom and reality. Regardless of some of the things I may do and say, I am wiser. Most people cannot escape becoming wiser. I once said ‘everyone’ and was swiftly corrected by Kris, Joanne and my friend Doug. So let’s stick with most, because I have to agree. Look, the success of the telemarketing industry proves their point. For the rest of us, we may not exhibit world-class wisdom at work or when we are with friends and family, but we do exhibit it to ourselves; for example when you regret a comment you made. Seeing the ‘Mandy Affair’ for what it was is a sign of wisdom; recognizing a total lack of maturity on my part. Maturity and wisdom are separate animals. A co-worker once remarked that maturity was giving up those things you enjoy, so as to fit into society. What bunk! There was a time I thought maturity meant not taking an afternoon nap on the couch, or not eating ice cream straight out of the carton. I do these things, and contrary to mature modesty, I sleep on the train going to work. Let the public look on. And, I like to talk about TV cartoons.
I made a list about Breen with two untitled columns; untitled because I did not want to label one of the columns ‘negative.’ This is not what a ‘mature’ person would do. A ‘mature’ person would label the columns: ‘good points’ and ‘bad points.’ Donna would have said my hesitancy was due to my lack of security in the situation. Thankfully she was not there to point that out.
OK, I need to list those things about Breen that are important to a relationship with me. Feelings for me? Positive. How I felt about her, positive. Physical appearance...I hesitate, it’s positive, but I feel like a hypocrite including this on the list. Hell, I had just spent how many years convincing myself that looks are not all important. Fashion consciousness, positive, but another superficial ranking; not meaning slobbery could ever be positive. Intelligence, positive. Common sense, positive. Charm, poise, and attitude, all positive. Concern about me, positive. Chosen profession, positive; I was not looking to marry an exotic dancer. Nothing against the profession, I’m just too jealous and my woman turns on only one man, me. Sexuality, positive; sensuality, positive; desirability, positive, the list started to degenerate quickly. I had nothing on the negative side and I was turning the list into a lopsided, prejudice, self-conformation of desire.
Right Dave, what are negatives! She fails to ask me what I mean if my comment is perceived to be negative. She did not like talking about problems in her life. She would not enjoy spending a long day at a NASCAR race. She would decorate the house her way, pick out the drapes, take over the bathroom and closets, snore, expect me to stop being so sarcastic; hate if I used the ‘F’ word...WAIT...what was this about the house, living together...Dave, you want to marry this woman, don’t you?
Is there anything negative about her that would stop you from saying ‘I do’ if she said ‘I want to’? I saw nothing in Breen that was unacceptable like smoking, or disgusting negative behavior like not bathing. The list is stupid; it’s what teenagers do. It’s what friends compile about your intended to help save you from what they perceive as a mistake. But is this what adults do? Yes, but my list was of superficial things, not the personality and relationship things that we both share or do not share. Adults know there are negative things you must accept in a relationship.
What is important is ‘want.’ In a ‘need’ situation you put up with the negatives - some of which can be really disgusting - only until the need is no longer required; then it’s moving on time. But in a ‘want’ situation you have accepted the negatives for what they are. You live together and work things out, because the want is the most important thing. So she sometimes snores; so do I. It may be nerve-racking to be in bed with someone who snores, but I wanted her next to me, even if I stay awake all night and get my sleep on the train ride to work or take naps on the weekend.
I tore up the paper because I had identified the one question only Breen could answer: did she ‘want’ me. The ‘need’ was apparent, but what about the ‘want?’ I just hoped Breen and I could discuss this if she had started making a list.
It was only yesterday that Donna acknowledged my intermittent daydreaming trances and the reason for them, my over complication of the situation with Breen, “David, you really have to stop being so concerned over spontaneous combustion!”
“Spontaneous combustion?”
“You know, the ignition of a substance, in this case your rear end...or ass, to put it in laymen’s terms, without the application of an outside heat source.”
“Since I do not believe in people self-igniting, you’re comparing me to a pile of oily old rags, right?”
“No, I’m referring to the mass of over-used brain cells within your cranium that are generating enough heat to power a small city! Please don’t use a nasal inhaler around me, because the onrush of oxidation will no doubt result in a chemical reaction that could wipe out the material I have spent the last few hours compiling.”
We were at the public library, Donna searching for information on former farmland and a golf course that figured into a case she was reviewing for litigation. Me, I was reading magazines. However, Donna thought I was being cheap. Why buy them when you can read them for free, “Donna I’m not being cheap...at least I am not reading them at the bookstore like so many people do. Read them, get smudgy finger prints all over them, coffee satins, etcetera, and then put them back on the rack.”
“Are you accusing me of finger print smudginess?”
“Well I’d say if the shoe fits...and watch out with that book, you had to buy the last magazine you walloped me on the head with!”
“I never walloped you on the head Dave...maybe I lovingly smacked you on the head...besides if you weren’t so hardheaded I would not have damaged the magazine.”
“Donna, I felt bad that Fred was not at my house the other night.”
“Not a good time to drag him around with me, but he understands.”
“I don’t.”
She ignores my comment. “Look at this picture Dave, it’s hard to believe this area was farmland only, what, ten years ago.”
“I remember the articles in the paper about the project. They were going to build a shopping area, not a shopping center; a shopping area that blended in with the golf course and the lake.”
“That’s the point of this case Dave, the company made claims that the lake was going to stay, and it would be a scenic park setting, not a small city of large retail box stores. What tipped the scale against them was their misleading claim that they were opposed to turning the remaining lots into clusters of small to medium stores and islands of small stand alones.”
“People have really taken sides in this haven’t they? But whether they are for or against the growth of the complex, people have no complaints about the tax revenue and convenience of having all of the retail stores and restaurants nearby.”
“Tell me about it. I have not experienced such partisanship before. You would think this was a civil rights, or a right to life, case.”
“Does it bother you...you know the hints of civil disobedience in the letters to the editor?”
“Yes...but keep that to yourself. The Governor wants my boss to ensure the state and local police take that seriously.”
“What about the political mudslinging? You’re not going to get me in the papers are you? The last thing I need is seeing my face on page one with the caption ‘Mystery man meets with State’s Attorney at secret love nest.’”
“You should be more concerned with the headline ‘Dumb shit divorced male found in motel room with another Mandy!”
“That was cruel...and on your behalf I apologize to the Mandys of this world and the entire male population. Also, young lady, I did not take
Mandy to a cheap motel...she would never think of going anywhere but a high-priced hotel...and then, only if Paris or wherever was thrown in.”
What I could not overlook was how Donna made that comment; it was her voice, far too harsh even for her normal acid tongue. I instinctively knew she was scared, not distracted; worried to the point of real concern. “Donna, don’t ever think you need to avoid me because you do not want to involve me.”
I could see her starting to wind up the biting wit for another pitch. “Donna! I can always set the record straight at work, at play, or whatever. What I cannot do is allow you to be distracted because of concerns about my safety or reputation.”
“Dave, smear campaigns are something attorneys have to live with. It’s just a hazard we face going up against corrupt politicians and fancy lawyers. You don’t!”
“It’s more than that isn’t it?”
She looks around and leans close, “I have been getting letters and emails. Not nice ones. My boss is concerned and so is the Governor. Dave, you’re my closest family member and I...look, I’ll make you a promise. You deal with my paranoia and if you get your picture printed as my ‘love interest,’ I’ll make it worth your while, how’s that?” Thankfully she burst out laughing. “Thanks Dave for caring about me.”
“Nice one. That was just the type of comment some reporter would love to overhear, and to make it worse, as soon as you got my hopes up, just as swiftly you dash them with laughter!”
“I would lean over and dull your pain with a kiss on the cheek, but we need to be careful for a few weeks; but that’s not going to stop me.” Kiss.
I could not pass up the opportunity so, “You know if you were a little more...sensuous as a kisser we might stumble on the real cause of spontaneous combustion.”
“Me! Dave, I think I will have to tell Breen about your lack of creativity in the kissing department.”
“How would you know?”
“Word gets around.”
This last thrust and parry took place as we were preparing to leave the library. I started to wonder if Breen was making a list and would my hugs and kisses be rated.
Donna noticed my sudden preoccupation. “Penny for your thoughts.”
“Not sure they are worth a penny.” To keep her from returning to the subject of spontaneous combustion I told her I had given Breen the Oreo Cookie Pretentiousness Test.
“How did she do?”
“I know you will see the humor in this Donna. Since we were talking on the phone Breen could not see my face, so there was a lot lost in translation. Anyway, I asked her the basic questions: Do you pull the two sides apart and eat the cream filling first? Or do you just bite into the cookie? Or maybe pop the entire cookie in your mouth all at once? There’s this moment of silence, then Breen asks if I was being a smart ass and talking about sex.”
“Great Dave, I hope you had the sense to not make a sexual innuendo to confirm her worst fears!”
“What was I to say...so I started to laugh and told her no, I was just confirming something and this was serious. I think the fourth time I used the word ‘seriously’ finally convinced her I was not talking about sex.”
“Did she pass?”
“Of course, I already knew she would... pull the two sides apart and eat the cream filling first. Breen suggested I not give the test to any women at the office.”
Relating that episode put some humor back in Donna’s life and I noticed she was more relaxed for the rest of the time we were together. The other thing I noticed was her hesitation when walking around corners and how she tried to hide her concern for her surroundings. Of course concern for your surroundings is a good thing. Unfortunately Donna, like so many others, did not exercise caution until there was something to worry about. The first thing I did when I arrived at work in the morning was to call an associate in the FBI and ask if he would check out the situation for me. A few hours later I received a call from the State Police Detective assigned to the case and as a professional favor he gave me his, and his partner’s, emergency phone numbers and said they would keep in touch.
Donna called me later that night, she talked for over an hour, as I patiently listened; an act on my part that was totally out of character. Donna wanted, needed to understand what was causing the changes around her; to understand why her settled world was suddenly so unsettled. She had been grasping at straws these past weeks, hoping beyond hope the letters were just a prank and not, not what she was avoiding. Our exchange at the library had erased any last vestige of reality avoidance. She asked me why her past had not taught her anything. “I was looking at my reflection in the glass of the enclosed bookcase,” the case almost filled an entire wall of her law office, “I looked and saw only questioning eyes returning my stare. Dave, my eyes bespoke of being lost of direction. I’m resigned to the fact that nothing learned from my past is going to reach out to me to ease my fears, give light as to the future.” She chastised herself, “Some historian I am!”
“Relax. You’ll make it through this.”
“Want to know something funny?”
“Okay.”
“I closed my eyes and thought about camping with you. It was real camping, not the refinement of Connecticut girl’s camp camping; cabins with central air, bunk-beds with sheets, indoor plumbing, and hot coffee made by our camp cook. I was remembering the first time we went into the woods of the Shenandoah Valley. Snakes,” I could feel her shudder over the phone as she spoke the dreaded word. She feared snakes. “You showed respect of my fear and you listened to my complaints. When we went the second time you still forgot the cots! But...I could not believe you had someone bring coffee to the campsite in the morning;” the owner of the small general store in the nearby town. “The old man just smiled and placed the large thermos next to the fire you had lit while I was still in the tent. He had such an amused look about him I had a feeling something was up.”
“As he looks at me fumbling with a shoe lace covered with those little green plant 'stick on you things' he says ‘Oh, the young man said to tell you the eggs and rest of the fixens are in the cooler.’ I must have made his day, no week...month when I asked, 'fixens?' The old guy almost laughed when he reply’s ‘He said you would probably say that...here,’ handing me a folded piece of paper. I’m opening the note and hear him say ‘Have fun!’ as he disappeared into the tree line. I still have your note David, ‘I like my eggs scrambled, so you have it easy this time.’ I almost called you a son-of-a-bitch, but I caught myself. When I opened the thermos and smelled the aroma of fresh coffee I forgave you.” She had called out to the opposite tree line, where I had wondered off under the guise to ‘use the facilities,’ “Cute Dave, real cute!”
The thoughts of camping with me made Donna smile. “You always seem to make me smile. Dave, I know you can help me get a grasp on this situation, but I’m determined to keep this my battle. Like my fear of snakes. Understand?”
“Not completely.”
“You respected my fear of snakes, but you never tried to force me to deal with them. You simply made everything else about camping fun and I learned to look at the bright side of being in the woods. I learned to enjoy being there even if I might run into a snake.” She paused, “Dave, just be yourself and make me smile, that’s the most important, the most wonderful thing you can do, and I will be okay.”
“Just don’t smash another sixty dollar backpack stove with a shovel!”
“I thought there was a snake in the bag Dave! How the hell was I to know you left the end of the rope sticking out!”
“Donna, I was cutting pieces off to tie down the tent.”
“Well buy yellow rope, not brown!”
—////—
Through a Stranger's Eyes Page 12