Mortal Mistakes

  Karen looked at Paula through eyes that could not hide deep emotional pain. She was unable to speak. Uninvited tears soon started to build in her eyes.

  Paula rushed to her and hugged her. Karen broke into great sobs that convulsed her entire body.

  "There, there, Kay, I'm sorry I asked," Paula said, tenderly. She caressed and consoled for several minutes until Karen began to calm.

  A shopper entered the front door and stared with a frown at the two, as though she had interrupted something forbidden. Paula, looking over Karen’s shoulder at the inquisitive intruder, shooed her out of the store with a dismissive wave of her hand behind Karen’s back.

  "Want to tell me what happened, Kay?"

  "Oh Pau, it was awful. Stan didn't come home until late last night. He had been drinking. I suspected that he was with Jan Murray. We didn’t talk because he passed out. And then this morning—" She started to cry and sob again.

  "There, there, now. Take your time."

  Over several minutes and lots of tears, Karen conveyed the story of her suspicions, and of Stan's convicting behavior in the gift shop.

  Paula was unable to provide much consolation or insight into the Stan's behavior. She agreed, to herself that Karen‘s suspicions seemed warranted. But she dared not add to Karen's misery by voicing her conclusion.

  *****

  Robert continued to walk west with his head down as though staring through the dirty gray sidewalk. A discarded newspaper, from yesterday, lying in the sidewalk gutter, caught his eye. Although he could only see one word, MISSING, it brought a train of recollections. First, he recalled the newspaper barrier that separated him and the beautiful young woman on the train yesterday. That brought recollection of yesterday’s playground incident and the blood stained newspaper that he later retrieved. That in turn caused him to think about the little girl and last night’s activity after work. That thought caused him to raise his head and check his bearings.

  Robert turned sharply and walked half a block to a small neighborhood convenience store. He carefully scanned the store's candy offerings. He chose a few small colorful pieces,which he thought would be pleasing to young eyes. His mood changed from disappointment to cheerful expectation at the thought of seeing the cute girl again. He hoped for an opportunity to tempt her with another treat.

  Robert had not forgotten the menacing appearance and attitude of the older woman. He felt sure that she would react in the same manner if she were to see him again. So his mind was busy planning an approach that would avoid another such encounter. He walked between the canvas shop and the used furniture store, to the rear alley that ran parallel to Clay, and bordered the north side of the play lot. Then, he positioned himself close enough to the nursery building, so that he would be out of any direct line of sight from the picture window of the nursery.

  Mrs. Obenhauer had allowed some of her flock to entertain themselves in the play lot again this morning. Jenny Bronsky was among them. She was occupied with the swing set. She had not quite gotten the hang of propelling herself on either of two swings. She sat on the lowest swing seat and stretched to push her right foot against the ground below. She rocked her upper body to and fro as though the rocking might blossom into full swing.

  When she noticed Robert, who was squatting by the northwest corner fence, she stopped the rocking motion. She wrapped her right arm around the swing’s chain, and slowly pivoted the swing back and forth, in a short arc. She studied Robert with considerable interest. She didn't immediately recognize him in his different attire.

  Robert tilted his head a little to the left and his face took on a look of captivated adoration. He studied Jenny’s face for several minutes. He noted the color of her eyes and hair, the shape of her nose, and her small dimples. Then he remembered the candy that he had just bought. He took the little bag out of his jacket pocket and teased with it, up and down. Then he held a brightly wrapped piece through the fence and wiggled it.

  "BLUHHH!" Jenny screamed, and ran for the open side door.

  Robert jerked his hand from the fence, turned and walked swiftly west through the alley.

  Mrs. Obenhauer met Jenny at the door with open arms. She picked the little girl up and calmed her, and then thoroughly examined Jenny for any possible injury. Finding none, she carried Jenny back outside and tried to determine the cause of her scream.

  "Now Jenny, tell me what scared you, sweetheart."

  "See bluhh mahn!" Jenny whimpered and pointed in the direction where she had seen Robert. Mrs. Obenhauer carried Jenny to where the child pointed. On the ground she saw a bright red foil wrapped object. "Did this scare you, honey?" she asked. She picked up the candy that Robert dropped. "Why it’s just a piece of candy in red foil. And did you think it was blood? Well, it's just a piece of candy that someone has lost. I'd let you eat it, but it might have dirt on it. Let's go inside and we'll find you a nice treat from my candy jar."

  Chapter 16

  The telephone in the gallery rang persistently. "Chantley gallery," Paula hastily answered after the sixth ring. She did not want a distraction while she was addressing her best friend’s emotional needs.

  Paula hesitated before replying, "Just a minute." She cupped her hand over the mouthpiece, pointing the phone toward Karen. "It's him," she whispered.

  Karen sat down at the desk and hesitantly took the receiver from Paula who retreated to the far end of the store and twiddled with items in the display window. She watched passing traffic with disinterest and tried to imagine what sort of painful conversation might be taking place between Karen and Stan.

  "Listen Karen, I could see you were upset, when you left the gift shop. I’d like to know what in the world you were thinking?" Stan began poorly.

  "What was I thinking?" she repeated angrily. What are you thinking, Stan? Do you think I‘m blind?" she shouted.

  "You were upset because of the pantyhose weren't you?"

  "I'm upset because you don't love— Because you're having— Because we're through, Stan! That’s why I'm upset! Because we’re through! Why didn't you have the nerve to just tell—" She was sobbing again and her words were becoming unintelligible.

  "Karen, if you’ll just let me explain. Please! Listen! I hurt Jan's feelings yesterday and I was just try-

  With a loud bang, she slammed the phone down.

  "Karen?" He hung up his phone too.

  “Crap!" he said. “Why the devil is she so upset? Why wouldn‘t she let me explain about what happened yesterday and about the stupid pantyhose?"

  He had never witnessed her being so upset. He started to dial the number again but decided that it might be better if he waited and talked to her in person. He looked completely perplexed.

  Jan Murray arrived and without speaking, or even looking at Stan, dropped her purse on her desk and turned to face her computer.

  He thought of immediately apologizing but his head was pounding. He went for a cup of coffee to wash down two aspirin. Instead, he took the bottle of pain pills from his trouser pocket, which Dr. Ravit prescribed. Without thinking, he mistook pain pills for aspirin which was in the bottle in his other pants pocket. In his haste and confused state of mind, he swallowed three powerful Oxycodone tablets without realizing it, and returned to his desk.

  With only casual interest, Stan fiddled with his computer. He inquired of whether Bob Steen had completed final approval of the Compton project yet. Bob had not. Stan hesitantly reached for his phone. He drummed his fingers on the phone as he contemplated words that he could say. He entertained the thought of apologizing and trying to reason with Karen again. He looked toward Jan, knowing that he still needed to apologize to her too. She glanced in his direction with a look of contempt and then turned quickly away. Her scornful look discouraged him from any further thought of apology to her. Instead, he started to dial the gallery.

  Bob Steen was hurriedly approaching Stan’s work cubicle w
ith a determined look on his face.

  "Stan, I need to talk to you," Bob said, with a tone that was more cool and commanding than usual.

  "Hi, Bob. I was just about to make a phone call."

  "It can wait." He made sure his curt words were loud enough for Jan to hear. "We need to talk first." His tone was even more commanding.

  Bob turned toward his office. Stan hung up his phone and followed. What's he so fired up about? Stan wondered. Compton is finished. It must be about Keith. The two marched silently to Bob's office.

  Bob shoved the door closed behind them. Stan knew that the closing of the usually open door, added importance to their meeting. His head was throbbing. Bob motioned for Stan to take a seat in front of his desk. Stan looked with a questioning face at Bob. Bob replied with a unmasked look of displeasure.

  "Stan, I'll get straight to the point. What the devil is wrong with you lately? You seem to be all wound up and ready to pop. You really badgered Jan yesterday. And did you know that Keith is leaving? Have you been giving him a hard time too? Now, Jan's threatening to quit as well."

  "Now just a minute, Bob," Stan quickly shot back. “I had nothing to do with Keith's leaving. He told me that he was thinking about quitting, because he just plain doesn’t like the job and the pressure. And you know as well as I do, that he's never been any too good at it. As for Jan, well, I did tell her that if she would get her rear end to work before noon, then Mid-City wouldn‘t be in the dump. Yes, I know. I was probably out of line with that. In fact, I’ve had every intention to apologize this morning. But the fact remains, that she comes and goes as she pleases, when she pleases, and you know it."

  "Who made you her supervisor, Stan? It's not your job to reprimand other team members."

  "What the blue blazes is my job, Bob? To work day and night, while everyone else screws off, leaving their work for me to finish? Stan's face was becoming red and his voice was getting louder. The pain in his head and the feeling of an unfair attack on his dedication were joining forces. A dam of emotion was beginning to crack under the force of unjust criticism. “Bob, you hire two people, who can’t find their way to the crapper, or know what to do when they get there, then you expect me to do their jobs and mine too!"

  "Your job, Stan," Bob interrupted even louder than Stan, “is to do what you're told!" He sat more erect and stiff. “It’s not your responsibility to boss other people around. You're not a manager. You're just a team member like the others."

  Jan Murray passed by Steen's office on the way to use a copier machine. She could tell by the arm waving and facial expressions that a heated discussion was taking place. She smiled and thought, Way to go Bob!

  Steen, already feeling threatened by his own manager Grissom, and by the problem of Keith's leaving, and by Jan’s threat to resign, was feeling unsustainable pressures too. Danged, if I’m going to take any more of this stuff from Stan, or anyone else, he thought.

  “I’m the boss here, Stan, not you!”

  "Well, you can shove your precious boss job, Bob!" Stan shot back with all the venom he could muster, and he rose abruptly from his chair to leave.

  "Now, just hold on there, Stan. You're behaving like a child! You sit your self back down!"

  Stan continued toward the door. Bob hurriedly rose from his seat and reached for Stan's shoulder to impede his departure. Stan wheeled around and forcefully knocked Bob's hand from his shoulder.

  "Stan, if you leave this office now, you can—"

  He didn’t get to finish the warning. Stan was already through the door and heading for his desk. He was furious, wrought with pain, and feeling strangely woozy. He stumped wildly toward his desk, calculating his next move.

  "Well, smarty pants, I guess you won't be picking on me anymore," Jan sang sarcastically.

  Stan turned to face her. "You lazy useless excuse for a— he shouted. You can kiss my rear! I was stupid to even think of apologizing to you."

  Stan's voice was loud enough that others in the area began to peep over cubicle dividers and turn their heads toward the commotion. They noted that Bob Steen was now resolutely marching toward Stan's cubicle. His face was as red as Stan‘s.

  "Stanley, I want to see you back in my office, right now!" Bob Steen ordered, pointing toward his office with his forefinger in a stabbing motion.

  Stan ignored his angry manager. Bob Steen stood an arms-length behind Stan, who was trying to decide which personal belongings he wanted from his desk, and how he could carry them. His head was throbbing with pain.

  Bob put his right hand on Stan’s left shoulder to turn him around. Stan's right fist reflexively doubled, and his arm drew back, ready to fire in Bob’s direction. Bob, side stepped a possible thrust of the cocked weapon.

  Jan Murray rose from her chair and walked swiftly away.

  "We're through talking, Bob! I'm packing my things and I'm out of here!" Stan spewed, hardly realizing that he had almost taken a swing at his boss. He turned back toward his desk and began collecting personal items.

  Bob Steen had allowed himself to become completely flustered. Now, with several employees watching the spectacle, he felt a need to appear in control.

  “That’s just fine!" He spoke loud enough for nearby ears to hear. “You’re fired! You have exactly five minutes to collect your belongings and be off the premises! Five minutes, Stan!" Having so ordered, the frustrated manager wheeled around and marched commandingly back toward his office.

  "Five minutes,” Stan muttered to himself. I’ve worked here five years and I’ve worked more than ‘five‘ months on the blasted Compton project and now I’ve got five minutes to clear out. He glanced at his computer screen. It still displayed the control page for the Compton project. Bob hadn't put his stamp of approval on it yet. Stan shuddered, as he realized that vengeance could be his with a few keystrokes.

  *****

  Bob Steen stared blankly into space, from his desk chair. Recent events had stunned the usually unwavering manager. He felt totally empty of energy or direction. With disinterest, he listened to his recorded phone messages.

  He heard Stan's message advising him that the Compton work was ready for his review. Christ, I'll never be able to replace that guy, he thought.

  Then he considered, with good reason that he probably wouldn't be around to replace anyone. First Keith, and now Stan, he thought. He knew that he might as well start clearing his own desk.

  "You seem to be in deep thought," Charlie Grissom said as he entered Bob's office. "I hope it's about the Mid-City project, and that you've found a resolution to the delay." He sat down in a chair facing Bob's desk. He had his briefcase in his lap and was about to leave the office for the weekend.

  Bob Steen slowly turned to face his boss. His heart raced along with his thoughts. He might as well get it over with. If Charlie didn't fire him on the spot, then he would have all weekend to think about it and maybe cool off. His face turned grave.

  "Charlie, I'm afraid I've got bad news; and a lot of it." He began with a noticeable quiver in his voice. “Both Keith and Stan have resigned this morning."

  Charlie Grissom jumped to his feet, dropping his briefcase on the floor. His face flared red. He slammed Bob's office door closed and stood facing him. "What the devil is going on Steen?”

  Bob nervously replayed the morning's incidents with his boss. He stated that he had no choice but to fire Stan because Stan was harassing other team members and was insubordinate in front of other employees.

  “He even tried to take a swing at me. He’s packing his belongings as we speak. I gave him five minutes to clear out."

  Grissom listened without comment. Color drained from his face. Bob Steen finished with positive notes, that he had already contacted employment agencies, and that the Compton work was complete and was only awaiting his final approval before delivery to Compton.

  Grissom was reminded that he had severely ra
tioned Bob Steen's resources in order to achieve his own financial objectives. He reasoned that there was no point in dwelling on that now. He continued to reason that on the plus side, Compton was complete. On the minus side, Mid-City was incomplete, but it was no worse off than yesterday. Perhaps resources could be shifted from another unit, to Bob's unit, temporarily.

  "Listen Bob, I won't try to hide my utter disappointment in this situation. I want Compton delivered today. And you had better burn some midnight oil this weekend figuring a way out of the Mid-City crisis." His eyes were cold. His face was stern. "I'll expect to hear your plan first thing Monday." Grissom turned, jerked the door open, slammed it closed, and left.

  *****

  Stan clinched his teeth and resolutely punched the F4 key. The emotion that he felt was more intoxicating than the Oxycodone.

  ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO ERASE THIS FILE? the computer screen asked in response. TYPE 'Y' TO ERASE OR 'N' TO CANCEL.

  Y, Stan hastily typed with a trembling finger. Pulsating veins stood out on his forehead. He looked across the floor to Bob Steen's office. Bob stood, in the doorway of his office, glaring back angrily at Stan. Stan felt an exciting rush. He jammed the Enter key, so hard the keyboard bounced and his forefinger stung.

  THE FILE LABELED 'COMPTON' HAS BEEN ERASED. The computer informed, and waited for further instruction.

  FORMAT DRIVE C, Stan hurriedly typed.

  WARNING YOU ARE ABOUT TO REFORMAT THIS DISK, ALL DATA WILL BE DESTROYED. TYPE YES TO CONTINUE OR NO TO ABORT.

  YES, Stan hastily typed and pounded the Enter button. He hurriedly filled a empty trash can with all backup disks of his work and with memorabilia from his desk and carried it out of the building. He stomped his car’s accelerator pedal leaving tire marks on the hot asphalt surface of the parking lot. He was determined to drive directly to the gallery and talk to Karen in person. I’ve got to talk to her, and straighten out this mess right now, he thought.