Mortal Mistakes

  *****

  Bob Steen felt slightly relieved. At least he hadn't been fired on the spot. Still nervous though, with trembling fingers he pushed the keys on his computer to retrieve the Compton file from Stan's computer. He would forward it to Compton himself, immediately, and get that project behind him.

  THE FILE YOU HAVE REQUESTED DOES NOT EXIST, his computer advised.

  Frantically, he tried again. He received the same message. His heart sank. He quickly pushed more buttons. His computer further informed him that the subject disk had been erased. "That no good son of a—!” he shouted. “He destroyed the whole blasted project, before he left!” He crossed his arms on his desk and laid his head on them in hopeless defeat.

  Chapter 17

  Karen sat slumped at the desk in the rear of the gallery. Her head rested on her cross folded arms. She continued to sob. Paula stood behind her with her hands on Karen's shoulders. Neither spoke for several minutes.

  "Pau, I think I'll go pick up Jenny and go to my folks," Karen managed between sobs. “Can you do without me for the rest of the day?"

  "Sure Kay. Whatever you want." Paula was at a loss to provide any other comfort. And she knew Karen would be of little use in the store for the rest of the day. "Kay, if you need me, you call," she told her. Karen slowly rose from her chair and hugged her friend. She left for the nursery, with no consideration for the appearance of her face.

  *****

  Mrs. Obenhauer had been somewhat shaken at Karen's appearance, a short while earlier, when Karen dropped off her child. But the wise elder woman, not wanting to intrude on Karen’s privacy, ignored the younger woman’s smeared make-up and reddened eyes. Karen’s appearance now, was even more disconcerting than before. And she arrived at a totally unexpected time.

  "Are you alright, child?" the elderly woman asked in the kindest of tones. It was obvious to her, that Karen was very upset. “What's wrong dear?”

  Karen fought back tears. "I'm fine, thanks. I've come for Jenny. We have to go to my parents."

  Mrs. Obenhauer called Jenny in from the play lot, hugged her, and bid them both goodbye. She was more than a little puzzled that Karen had come for Jenny at this hour of the day. She deduced that it must be related to whatever had upset the young mother.

  “If I can do anything, Mrs. Bronsky, you just let me know." Mrs. Obenhauer’s voice was sympathetic and her concern was genuine.

  Karen caught a glimpse of herself in her rear view mirror, as she drove away, and realized why Mrs. Obenhauer had been so concerned. Her eyes were red and her makeup was smeared.

  *****

  Stan looked in his rear view mirror, as he parked his car behind the gallery. He saw tired strained eyes and a face that reflected pain and distress staring back at him. He wondered why Karen's car wasn't in the parking lot. He felt a spinning sensation as he stepped out of the car. He stumbled inside and steadied himself by hanging on to the door know. He asked Paula where Karen was. Paula studied Stan’s face for a moment before answering.

  “Karen left a short while ago, Stan. She told me that she was going to pick up Jenny and go to her parent’s place.”

  “Her parents?” he asked with a puzzled look, “Do you know if she was going to go home first?"

  “No. She didn’t say." Paula wanted very much to ask Stan what in the world was going on with him. Dismay showed on her face. She kept her distance from him as though he had a disease.

  “I know none of this is making much sense to you, Paula. Believe me it’s not to me either.”

  He thanked Paula and apologized for bothering her. She noticed that he seemed to weave as he walked out of the shop. But she hadn’t noticed any smell of alcohol on his breath.

  God, I hope he’s not on drugs, she thought.

  Stan felt drained and defeated as he drove out of the city. Why is she going to her folks?

  He started to feel light headed, and everything around him seemed to be heaving about in slow motion. The feeling scared him. He decreased his speed and took the next exit from the freeway. The exit led to Indian Lake Park. He slowly drove the remaining two blocks to the park, intending to get some fresh air, and to try to make sense of everything that was happening to him. He parked his car near the lake and sat behind the wheel for a few minutes. Then he got out and started to walk along the lake on the paved walkway. Only a handful of people were in the park.

  Along the walkway, daffodils and lush green grass welcomed the warm sunshine. Willow trees, scattered around the edges of the lake, were starting to put out green leaves. Throughout the park, flowering trees and shrubs displayed beautiful blossoms and fragrances. A cacophony of birds, frogs and lizards filled the air. The newness of life that springtime brings was evident throughout the park. But in Stan, life seemed to be draining away.

  Stan was barely aware of the beauty around him. As he walked, he continued to feel woozy. The pavement seemed to move beneath him, as if he were walking on a giant waterbed in slow motion. He stopped and leaned against a large oak tree to steady himself. His headache was barely noticeable, but he knew that something else was terribly wrong. Then, still leaning against the tree, he absentmindedly put his hands into his trouser pockets. When he did, he felt the two pill bottles and recalled taking the three pills earlier. He withdrew both bottles from his pockets and looked at them. Then he realized that he must have swallowed prescription pain pills and not aspirin. He recalled that Dr. Ravit warned him to take only one of the pills at a time. Jesus! I've screwed up, he thought.

  He trudged falteringly, back toward his car. He resolved that he would call his doctor when he could get to a phone. After he was seated in his car for a few minutes, the dizziness seemed better. He felt that he was probably capable of driving now, in spite of Dr. Ravit’s warning. Still, he wisely decided to sit in his car for a while, allowing the medicine some additional time to wear off. He lowered his window, tilted his seat back and reflected on the situation with Karen.

  He thought of the times that he and Karen had visited the park when they were dating. It was springtime then, just like now. He recalled one of their early dates, when they brought pizza and had lunch under the same oak tree that he had just leaned against. He closed his eyes and pictured Karen, as she looked at that time. God, she was so beautiful, he thought.

  Karen still looked great, but Stan had just been too absorbed in his work to have taken much time lately to appreciate her.

  We were so happy back then, his thoughts continued. He recalled how they took long walks around the lake and played in the park. It seemed to him that he could almost hear their laughter and see Karen‘s happy face as they played tennis together. He knew that he still loved her more than anything.

  “Oh Kare. What’s happened to us,” he moaned.

  The longer that Stan reflected, the more he realized that although he had never stopped loving Karen, other things had crept into their lives and stole precious time and attention from their relationship. He now realized that his job, that had seemed so terribly important for so long had taken too much of his time and energy. He could see that his dedication to work became a wedge between them. And now, the job meant nothing to him, compared to Karen and Jenny. He reasoned that his work may have been responsible for his headaches, which had also interfered with their relationship. He could see now, that he had been too tired, or in too much pain over the last few days, to be a decent companion to Karen or to anyone. It was painful for him to admit it, but he realized now, that he had not been much of a husband, father, or lover, for the last few months.

  He felt an urgent need to share his self-analysis and feelings with Karen. He knew that he needed to somehow find a way to heal the cancerous divide that was growing in their relationship.

  The wooziness seemed to have improved, so he started the car and drove slowly out of the park. He soon realized that the road was going to be as mushy, as the ground
in the park. He slowed the car to near walking speed and was careful to not make fast turns or sudden stops.

  When he finally reached his driveway, Karen was putting Jenny and a suitcase into her car. He parked his car behind hers and stepped out. The earth moved beneath his feet, as he staggered toward them.

  "Karen, why wouldn't you talk to me, let me explain?"

  "You don't need to explain anything to me, Stan! It's pretty clear to me that you're having an affair with that tramp. I'm not about to stay around to see any more of it! Just tell me, what is it that you see in that blonde floozy? No, never mind, I don't want to know. Just move your car out of our way!"

  She was in tears and her voice was breaking and getting loud. Jenny was becoming upset too, and starting to whimper. Karen put her suitcase into her car and slammed the trunk lid closed.

  "Karen," he weaved closer, "there isn't anyone else, and there isn't any job at CTC anymore either. I quit this morning, or was fired. Take your pick." He didn't realize that his speech was slurred and that Karen thought he was drunk. "Bob got on my case because of Jan, and I told him that he could shove his job." Stumbling toward her, he reached his arms to embrace her. He desperately needed to feel her touch and the comfort of her caress. She turned sideways as he stumbled forward, and a fingernail of his left hand jabbed the corner of Jenny's mouth, nicking her lip.

  Jenny cried out, and sought to comfort her wound with her hand. Karen lurched back further at Jenny's cry. Her eyes widened when she saw blood on Jenny‘s lip. Fear replaced disgust on her face. She had never feared Stan in all their years together. But she was sure now, that Stan was drunk, and was sincerely afraid that he could cause further harm to her or Jenny.

  "Will you please move your stupid car or do I have to call the police?" she shouted fiercely.

  Jenny saw blood on her hand and screamed, "Bluhh Mummih!" Karen's face showed fear, anger and panic. With a trembling hand, she wiped Jenny’s cut lip with the hem of the child’s shirt. She looked at Stan with disbelief and utter contempt. Stan was helpless. He wanted desperately to hold and comfort both of them. He weaved in their direction again.

  "See what you've done?” She shouted, stepping further backwards. “Move the car Stan! Now!" she commanded with a furious look of determination. Her hands and face trembled.

  Jenny continued to cry and big tears streaked her face. A small bead of blood trickled from her lip.

  "Karen, I'm so sorry. It’s the stupid drug. I took too many. Jenny, Daddy's sorry, sweetheart, really sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you sweetie." His words were halting and slurred.

  Karen quickly strapped Jenny into the car seat and buckled her own seat belt. She held the horn button down and stared at Stan with contempt.

  He stood with arms outstretched toward them, shaking his head. Karen shouted at him again to move his car. He swayed back to his car and backed it directly across the street, halfway into a neighbor's driveway, narrowly missing a fire hydrant.

  Karen backed her car from their driveway and sped out of sight. Stan sat with his head resting on the top of his steering wheel. His hands lay loose in his lap. He was perplexed, defeated, and drained of energy.

  Susan Johnston, their busy body neighbor, observed the Bronsky confrontation, and believing Stan to be intoxicated, reported the noisy disturbance to police. Stan raised his head when he heard the sound of a approaching siren. He sat upright and drove his car forward into his own driveway.

  Just as he started into his driveway, a wave of dizziness swelled over him and his muscles convulsed, causing his right foot to forcefully mash the accelerator. The car rammed through their closed garage door and smashed his outboard boat and engine. Gasoline began to spew from the boat motor’s fuel tank, onto the crushed hood of Stan’s car and trickled down into the car’s engine compartment. His car’s engine continued to run as Stan slumped lifeless over his steering wheel.

  Two police patrolmen rushed cautiously toward Stan’s car, and the shattered garage door. Smelling gasoline, they hurriedly pulled Stan from his car and dragged him away from the garage just as gasoline was ignited by the car‘s still running engine. Huge orange and black billows of flame and smoke poured from the car’s engine compartment, from the smashed boat, and from the shattered garage door. One of the patrolmen radioed for a fire truck. The other attempted to communicate with Stan. By the time Stan had regained enough of his senses to realize what was happening, fire had engulfed the garage and was quickly spreading to the kitchen and family room. He struggled to his feet in dazed shock and leaned against the police car, near the street. Neighbors gathered on nearby lawns to witness the spectacle.

  Susan Johnston was quick to report the previous shouting and commotion that had taken place, to one of the patrolmen. And pointing at Stan she said, “It looks to me like he’s drunk as a skunk."

  The patrolmen were unable to detect any smell of alcohol on Stan. They began to question him at length, suspecting him to be drugged. He explained that he had, unintentionally taken too much pain medication for a bad headache. After examining his prescription bottle and pain pills, they consulted with their superior and informed Stan that a medical unit was being dispatched.

  The first of two fire trucks was already on the scene. Firemen quickly chopped holes in the roof of the house. Hoses were strung to the hydrant across the street, and enormous amounts of water was sprayed into the house and onto adjacent roofs to contain the fire.

  Stan leaned precariously against a front fender of the patrol car for support. He watched in disbelief and horror as years of hopes, dreams and memories went up in flames. The stench of the fire was suffocating and heat from it could be felt across the street.

  The sound of shattering window glass could be heard along with the noise of fire truck engines and water hoses. Flames exploded from Jenny's upstairs bedroom window. Stan could imagine her little clothes and toys being engulfed in flames. Thank God she and Karen aren't in there, he thought. His strained attempt to remain upright was failing.

  In the distance, a backup fire truck's siren sounded. It screamed in harmony with an approaching emergency medical unit. Stan slid limply from the patrol car, where he had leaned, to the ground. His trembling limbs would no longer support his defeated body. He sat on the ground with his legs bent grotesquely beneath him. His back and head rested against a front wheel of the patrol car. His arms lay limply beside him. He closed his tired, pained, and dazed eyes.

  Chapter 18

  On the fourth of July, Jenny and her mother prepared to eat a picnic supper in Indian Lake Park. It was near dusk. They had established their territory a couple of hours earlier, with a blanket, small cooler, and picnic basket. Karen chose a location away from the crowded grandstand area that would give them privacy and at the same time allow for a good view of the upcoming fireworks display.

  They walked and played throughout the late afternoon and Karen was tuckered out. She ate a couple of fried chicken wings from their basket and then leaned back on her elbows on the picnic blanket watching Jenny nibble on a chicken leg.

  Karen was reminded of the picnics that she and Stan had enjoyed in the park, over the years. Coming there for a picnic and recreation had long been a tradition with them. They first visited the park while they dated. They continued to come there often after they were married, especially on Independence day. Stan was a huge fan of fireworks displays. He introduced Karen to them at the park shortly after they married. She soon enjoyed the colorful, noisy displays, almost as much as he did. Her memories led her to wonder where Stan might be today. He’s probably someplace with Jan Murray, she thought.

  Karen had never made any effort to determine, if Stan and Jan continued a relationship after he left CTC. She felt that it would only have added to her hurt to know that they were together. She supposed that Jan still worked at CTC, although she secretly hoped that they had let her go too. Karen still believed
that Jan was responsible for wrecking her marriage. She never understood why Stan went berserk, as she was later informed, and got himself fired, but she blamed Jan for that and for her and Stan’s subsequent financial problems too.

  CTC sued Stan for ninety five thousand dollars for destroying company property, the computer information that he erased. Karen never knew the terms of the lawsuit that was eventually settled with CTC. She reluctantly signed papers several weeks ago, allowing Stan’s lawyer to file bankruptcy on their behalf. She was tired of being continually harassed by collection agencies and it was clear to her, that there was no other way out of her financial dilemma.

  Throughout the last couple of months, Karen’s main objective was to protect Jenny. She didn’t want to see her child suffer emotionally, because of the breakup of parents. She never told Jenny that their home had burned, and she never mentioned Jenny's father to her. Jenny had pretty much stopped asking about either their home or about her father.

  Karen wondered lately if she ought to talk to a lawyer about divorcing Stan. It wasn't because she was interested in anyone else, or in another marriage. She really didn't want to think about that. But, she knew that sooner or later, she would have to cut the legal tie that still bound them. Still, she was reluctant to start the divorce proceedings because she was afraid that a divorce court judge might award visitation rights to Stan, if he pushed the issue. For all she knew Stan could well be a hopeless drunk or drug addict by now and she was too concerned that he could possibly hurt Jenny again, to let her spend time with him if it could be avoided.

  Karen and Jenny both laid on their backs side by side and looked up at the first stars that just began to flicker in the sky. Karen taught Jenny a little poem about wishing on the first star seen at night. Fireflies could be seen flickering brightly all around the park. Little insects and critters filled the air with squeaking and chirping sounds which were frequently overpowered by the deep groan of a croaking bullfrog. The hot summer sun and busy city traffic left a thin, muggy fog in the air. Still, there was a smell of fresh mowed grass.