Karen slowly sat down in the desk chair and looked into space. She circled both hands around the small cup. She wished she had not gotten into this. But she now had Paula's full and persistent attention. Paula was more than her best friend. She was also her dearest confidant. Karen sipped from her cup as her gaze drifted further into space.
"Come on Kay. It's me. Spit it out." Paula affectionately commanded.
"Pau, you've dated and broken up with several guys over the years." Karen began.
Paula took a deep troubled breath. Her mind immediately flashed a picture of Stan. Oh, sweet heavens, no! She slowly sat on the edge of the desk beside Karen, facing her, and scooted back a little without taking her eyes off Karen's. Her hands tensely clutched the front edge of the desk. She waited expectantly for Karen to continue.
"How does it begin? The break up, I mean." Karen continued. She wasn‘t pleased with the words she found to open the conversation. She managed to look briefly at Paula. "I mean, when—” she hesitated, “when someone has lost interest in you; how does it start to show? What do you notice first?"
Paula knew there was deep concern behind the probing questions of her friend. She thought for a moment before replying, not sure if Karen expected an answer just yet. Then she eased down from the desk, stepped behind Karen's chair and gently placed her hands on Karen's shoulders.
"Well, sweetie, I guess I've always been the one to do the leaving," she kidded. She wanted to lighten what she feared was becoming a much too heavy conversation. "Now what's this all about? Have you and Stan had a little scrap? Huh?" She softly massaged Karen's shoulders.
Karen began to feel more at ease. "No, we really haven’t had a fight, I mean nothing serious. It's just that we don't—" She paused and searched thoughtfully for the right words. She couldn't seem to find words that suited her. She felt her eyes begin to burn.
"We just don't seem to look at each other, or touch each other, or talk to each other, the way we used to—" She hesitated again. “We don't show affection the same as we used to. We don't—" She paused and looked at a distant wall. "We don't make love like we used to." Her eyes were becoming wet now. Her throat felt choked and her voice trembled. "I'm scared, Pau. I'm really scared that something's gone wrong between us." Her hands came up to her face.
Little wrinkles were forming on the brow of Paula's concerned face. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes too. She realized that she had to shake it off. Her friend needed her to listen, sympathize, comfort and advise. She knew that she needed to maintain her composure. She tried to think of the best approach.
"How long has it been since you two spent some time alone? I mean, really alone, without Jenny, on vacation, or a weekend date? I'll bet it's been a while. Is Stan still putting in a lot of hours? Does he ever take you out to dinner or a movie?" Paula realized she was on a threshold of prying and halted the inquisition. She stopped the shoulder massage which had been unconsciously growing in intensity as she spoke.
"It's been a while." Karen answered. She realized that it had been well over a year since they had vacationed from work. And it had been a long time since they had done much of anything together, other than daily routines, and especially without Jenny. She thoughtfully considered the implication that maybe they had just spent too little time together. She was starting to feel better. "You know, Pau, you’re probably right." She tilted her head backwards and managed a weak smile.
Paula noted the smile and patted Karen’s uplifted cheeks with her fingers. "Well if you need to take a few days off for a sweetheart vacation Kay, you go right ahead. I'll get Mother to fill in for you. But listen, this doesn't alter the fact that I still would like for you to work more hours, as I’ve been telling you. I mean of course, when you two get things straightened out. Okay? Now, take my advice and have a nice loving, open talk with Stan, tonight. Tell him you're feeling a little neglected. And that you feel like you two should take some time off, together."
"Thanks, Pau, for listening to me." Karen tilted her face back to look up at Paula through moist eyes. "I'm sorry about refusing more hours. Right now, until Jenny's a little older, I just think I owe her all the time I can give."
Karen reached up and placed her hands on top of Paula's hands, pressing them against her cheeks.
*****
By late afternoon, Stan's mind distanced itself from the morning's events. His headache abated. He forgot about Jan and Keith and poured himself furiously into the Compton work. The effort required his full attention and kept him from reliving his earlier outburst and it‘s consequences. Now, near the end of the project, he sat thoughtfully reflecting on his last few months work.
Five months of blood and sweat. And there is not one visible thing to show for it, he thought. He had attended dozens of detailed planning meetings and then sat for hours punching buttons on his computer keyboard.
His eyes slowly scanned the buttons of his keyboard, left to right, as his thoughts rambled. Q, W, E, R, he silently read the keys. He wondered how many times he had hit the T key or the Y, U, O, or P keys. The painted letters were worn off of some of the more used keys. His eyes moved left again, and up. He read the keys to himself. F1, F2, F3, F4. That one doesn’t get much use, he thought as he looked at the F4 button.
F4, Y, Enter was the sequence of keys used to erase a computer file. He studied the significant sequence of keys. He noted that the Y and Enter keys were somewhat faded but the F4 button looked new.
F4, Y, Enter. That's all it would take. Just push those three little buttons in sequence, and everything I’ve done in the last five months is gone forever, he mused.
Stan wondered if the product of anyone’s labor could be less fragile.
He imagined that if he were a architect or builder he would be able to stand back at a distance from a completed project and pose proudly, with arms folded, chest out, feet spread wide, admiring the fruits of his labor. Such a magnificent accomplishment, he speculated, it could remain standing for a hundred years or more, loyally providing shelter and comfort. Such work would have produced a truly lasting monument that would have significant meaning to many people. She looks terrific, doesn't she boys? We've done a heck of a job here. Get lots of pictures. Let's pop open a bottle and celebrate. No sequences of keystrokes are going to take her down. No sir.
He gently touched the destructive three buttons, just brushed them with the tip of his finger. The thought of actually pushing the buttons brought a strange sense of giddiness to Stan. He continued to marvel at the ease with which one could completely annihilate the product of five man months of painstaking work.
He imagined himself a surgeon coming home from a exhausting day of work. It went well today dear. I stripped a demonic cancer from the liver of a child of seven. Hardly a drop of blood was wasted. The patient never experienced a hint of pain. The devouring beast is destroyed for good and the child may live to be president one day. Let's pour a glass of brandy and celebrate, shall we?
Stan’s imagination produced a smile on his face.
The reality was that for five months, Stan had placed temporary, magnetic marks on a disk inside his computer. There was no trophy to admire, no prized photographs to take home, no lasting monument, no cheering crowd, no press photographers. That realization negated pride in the product of his countless hours of dedicated effort. His fingers continued to brush lightly over the hazardous sequence of keys. He inadvertently brushed a little too hard on the F4 button.
“CLICK!” The click of the button was thunderous in Stan's ears. A warning message flashed on his computer screen.
Chapter 10
Karen buckled seat straps around Jenny, slid behind the steering wheel, fastened her own seat belt, and drove away from the nursery.
"Did you have fun today, Jen?" Karen asked, as she pulled away from the curb.
"Yes."
"What did you do toda
y?" she asked with little interest. Her mind was really occupied with thoughts about the talk that she planned to have with Stan. Her thoughts had hardly been elsewhere since she and Paula talked earlier. "Shall we go home and fix Daddy a nice supper?"
She flipped her turn signal and eased into slow moving traffic.
"Maan bluuh."
Traffic was heavier than usual. An occasional horn blared. "I'm sorry, Jen. What did you say?" Karen focused her attention on the task of driving. "Look at that idiot! Cutting in front of me like that. Let's see. What was I saying? Oh, would you like to help me cook something special for Daddy when we get home?"
"No. Bluuuhhh!" the little girl stubbornly tried to communicate.
"Are you saying blood, sweetie? Well I agree. We don't want to fix anything quite that special. I was thinking of spaghetti and meat sauce. You both like that. Don't you? And maybe we can have fresh strawberry shortcake with whipped cream. Yum, yum! Doesn't that sound good, Jen?"
"Unhh hunh. Skehhii." Jenny yawned. Her troubled thoughts had been diverted. "We'll just make a quick stop at the grocery and pick up a few things. They should have fresh strawberries this week. You know the great big kind that we always have this time of year, the ones that we like so well?"
By the time Karen reached the parking lot at the grocery, Jenny had fallen asleep. Karen found a empty space directly in front of the store, only a few parking spaces from the entrance. She was disappointed to find her child asleep. She looked at Jenny with loving admiration. She considered waking her, but the child looked so tuckered out and peaceful that she didn't want to disturb her. Jenny's head was slumped to the left, in the child seat near the side of the car door. Her hands loosely clutched a stuffed Easter bunny in her lap. He had recently become her closest friend. Karen reached into the back seat and gently pulled a blanket over Jenny's shoulders, then silently eased out of the driver's seat and locked the car. She didn't expect to be gone for more than a couple of minutes. She hurried into the store and grabbed a shopping cart. She passed by a newspaper stand as she quickly moved toward the fresh fruit section. The evening headline screamed, FOUL PLAY POSSIBLE - MISSING CHILD...
Karen saw the newspaper stand as she passed, but the headline failed to register in her mind. She placed a package of golden shortcakes into her cart, then, hurriedly selected a package of fresh strawberries. Instantly Karen flung the package and reeled away from the produce stand. The headline finally registered.
She spun around and charged like a football linebacker out of the store toward her car. The hasty turnabout caused a painful twist of her left ankle. A teenager was pushing a lengthy train of grocery carts back to the store from the parking lot. Karen darted first one way then another, limping, stumbling, around the noisy assemblage. As she rounded the boy, she nearly upended him by pivoting around him with her arm around his waist. Then she nearly collided with a minivan that was just entering a parking space. Her eyes were wild with fear. The minivan driver and other nearby, shopper’s heads turned in her direction and stared in wonder. In the adjacent parking space, a man in a raincoat stood behind a car and peered intensely over the top of the car at Karen. Only his baseball cap and eyes were visible from her vantage point.
Jenny's eyes were still peacefully closed when Karen's anxious face frantically searched through her car window.
“Oh, thank God!” Karen gasped. She opened the driver's door and slipped sheepishly into the seat. Her legs were weak. To heck with the stupid groceries! She held the top of the steering wheel with both hands and leaned forward, resting her forehead on her hands. Her heart still pounded in her chest. She could hear her own breathing.
A loud bang on the top of the car above the windshield caused her to snap her head upright.
"Are you alright?" a uniformed policeman asked, peering through the windshield.
She was so startled that she couldn't create words in her throat because of the throbbing and heaving in her chest, but she managed a strained smile and affirming nod.
"Are you sure, mam?" Her face still showed panic. Her eyes looked tense and scared.
She repeated the nod.
The policeman shook his head and continued toward the grocery store entrance.
"Whah ap-en, Mummih?" Jenny inquired sleepily from the back seat, as the policeman turned to leave.
"It's nothing honey." Her voice barely managed the assurance. "We've just stopped for a few groceries." She didn't feel steady enough to resume driving anyway, so she decided to go on with shopping. "Want to go shop with Mommy, Jen?" She tried to sound cheery.
Mother and daughter shared the comfort of the others hands as they walked into the grocery.
Strike me dead if I ever even think of doing anything like that again, Karen thought. She looked down at Jenny and squeezed her hand tightly as they entered the store.
After again selecting a small basket of large red strawberries, they walked to the meat counter for ground beef.
"Bluhhdd!" Jenny said as she pointed to the meats on display. She studied her little forefinger as she pointed. It was the same finger which Mrs. O aggressively scrubbed earlier in the day.
"Yes dear." Karen compared the packages of ground beef on display.
"Bluuuh baaahh" The words trailed off, this time, as Karen placed a package of burger in the cart.
"What's this thing about blood Jen? Have you learned something new today? I'll bet you've been watching TV with Mrs. O." Jenny's little thumb and forefinger still pointed aimlessly in front of her, and she continued to study them, as they walked toward the checkout counters. "Would you like a piece of c-a-n-d-y?" Karen beamed the spelling into Jenny's face.
"Yesss!" Jenny returned an excited, happy look.
"Well, we'll get you some candy, but you have to wait until after supper to eat it. Okay?"
"Ohkaay Mummih."
*****
"Hey Stan." Keith Williams interrupted Stan’s fanciful thoughts about deleting his own work. His voice startled Stan and woke him from the grip of devilish delirium. "Can we talk? If I can interrupt you, that is?"
"Sure," Stan answered. "I was just taking a mental recess."
"It’s about this morning Stan. You were absolutely right. I haven't applied myself to Mid-City as I should. Truth is, I guess I’ve known for a some time, that I'm just not cut out for this work."
Oh man. What have I done, now? Stan thought, straightening in his chair. "Now Keith, listen, I was out of line. I —"
"No. No you weren't Stan," Keith quickly interrupted. "Let me finish. I've known for the last year that I wasn't happy at this job. You helped me to finally realize, this morning, just how much my halfhearted work has made life difficult for you and others. I really am sorry for that. It's all I've thought about since this morning."
"Please! Listen, Keith! I haven't felt well lately. My head was pounding this morning. I had no right to—"
"You had every right, Stan." Keith interrupted again. “Heck, do you think I haven't noticed all the hours you put in. And now, knowing Bob, you've probably been asked to help pull Mid-City back together too. I wish that I could be as dedicated as you to this place. But I’m not. No, I've reached a decision today. I'm going to do us all a favor and find a job that I can actually enjoy. Will you please accept my apology?" Keith extended his right hand.
Stan's emotions and thoughts were running in every direction. Guilt, sorrow, appreciation, relief, self-contempt, pity and envy, were playing musical chairs in the command center of his mind.
"Of course I accept your apology, Keith. But I wish you would really think twice about this. You could be making a big mistake."
The two shook hands firmly. They exchanged a long look of mutual understanding.
"No. My mind's made up brother. I need to get going," Keith said.
He flipped his black windbreaker over his shoulder and disappeared toward the elevators. br />
It was five P.M. Stan felt drained again, just like this morning, when the coffee mug sailed in slow motion, as its contents hovered above Jan's lap.
Well, I've really done it now. He surmised that if Keith actually meant to quit, then he would have no choice but to help Jan salvage the Mid-City project. He noted that his headache was returning and took two more aspirin as he picked up the phone.
"Karen, it's me. Going to work late again tonight," he told their answering machine. "Sorry. I've just got to finish this project. See you later. Hug Jenny for me. Bye."
No more fanciful thoughts of ‘F4, Y, ENTER,’ Stan was hard at work again.
At seven fifteen, Bob Steen looked into Stan's cubicle and waved goodnight. He thought about stopping to apologize for not approving Stan’s vacation request, but decided it was better to let that sleeping dog lie.
It occurred to Stan that he was now the only person on the floor. He extended Steen's short interruption to walk to the other end of the floor for a cup of coffee and a snack. Back at his desk, he opened an aspirin tin to take two more pills and pitched the empty tin into a trash can.
*****
Karen and Jenny were soon at home putting away the groceries she bought, when Karen noticed a flashing light on their answering machine. She walked to the machine, near the breakfast bar, and pushed a button. Disappointment clouded her face as she listened to Stan's message.
“Not again!" she said with disgust. “The spaghetti— the shortcake— our talk." She picked up the phone to see if she might change his mind. From the canteen area, Stan didn't hear his desk phone ringing.
"Well, I guess it's just me and you, Jen. Your daddy is working late again; or something." Her words trailed off with a note of disgust. “Take off your jacket honey. You can watch television while Mommy cooks our sketti."
She turned the television on and found a child's program for Jenny to watch.
*****
The sun had completed its majestic work for the day and left only a feint red glow in the western sky, where a thin layer of clouds helped to bring early dusk. Street lights began to glow on Clay street.