Mortal Mistakes

  Mrs. Obenhauer was enjoying a cup of coffee in her second floor living quarters above her nursery. She slowly rocked in a chair, near a window, while she watched a television game show. Unknown to her, she was being carefully observed through a window of her apartment. The lower sash of the window was partly raised. Its sheer drapes hung limply in the still warm evening air.

  Robert worked at Scotty's until almost dark. Across the street from Mrs. Obenhauer's home, he watched her from behind a utility pole. He noted the absence of lights in the first floor nursery. He shifted his sight from the barely visible head of Mrs. Obenhauer to the shadowed and empty play lot on the north side of Clay Street. His first slight hope, of seeing the darling little girl again, was quickly denied. So he turned his attention back toward the house. His baseball cap remained motionless as he surveyed the scene. He judged the noise of the television to be a calming distraction for the older woman, who had confronted him earlier in the day. His eyes slowly shifted, from viewing the window, to probing the sidewalk where he had crouched earlier in the day. He craned his neck slightly to improve his view. A smile showed on his face.

  Mrs. Obenhauer took advantage of a commercial break to pour another cup of coffee. She rose from her chair and glanced at the open window. Feeling a slight chill, she decided to close the window for the evening. But as she came near the window, a movement, across the street caught her attention. Someone was moving hurriedly in the direction of her house. She stepped closer to the window for a better view.

  Robert hurried across the street in her direction. His path toward the nursery brought him into the perimeter of the light from a overhead street lamp.

  Mrs. Obenhauer watched a man crouch to the ground. She could see that he was wearing a raincoat and baseball cap.

  A commercial concluded and the quiz show resumed so Mrs. Obenhauer's attention was drawn toward the television momentarily but she quickly looked out of the window again.

  Beneath his cap, Robert's face was hidden from Mrs. Obenhauer. It appeared to her that the man picked up something from the ground and inspected it. Then he lowered his head slightly bringing his hands up toward his face.

  “You have ten seconds to solve the puzzle,“ a voice on the television warned.

  Mrs. Obenhauer briefly turned her attention back to the television, then back to the window. The man seemed to wrap something around his face. Then he ambled off clutching the object under his arm. He disappeared into distant shadows.

  After closing the window and taking her seat again, Mrs. Obenhauer recalled the stranger who had caused commotion earlier in the day, remembering that he also wore a raincoat and baseball cap. Could this have been the same man? she wondered. The thought brought a sudden chill. She got up and looked through the window again. Seeing nothing, she collected a comforter from her couch and took her seat once more.

  Robert briefly examined his retrieved memento in the light of a street lamp. The spattering of blood on the newspaper reminded him that he needed to stop at a grocery on the way home for a bottle of ketchup. He liked rare meat smothered in ketchup.

  Chapter 11

  Karen’s thoughts continued to revolve around Stan as she stood at the kitchen sink washing strawberries and removing their stems. It occurred to her that Stan may have finished work earlier than expected and was on his way home when he didn't answer his phone. That could explain why he didn’t answer. Good. We can still have dinner and talk. Her thoughts and mood turned brighter and she began preparing the meat and spaghetti sauce.

  Soon the kitchen was filled with the aroma of onion, garlic and peppers. At five minutes after eight, the food was ready to eat but Stan had not arrived. She now realized that he had not been on the way home when she tried to phone him. Images of Jan Murray flashed in her mind.

  “Waah skehhi,” Jenny interrupted.

  "Sketti is ready, Jen,” Karen replied. “Your daddy can eat by himself when gets home.” Where the devil is he? Images of Jan Murray continued to flash. Stan I want you to be home, now! Her imagination was running rampant with scenes of salacious behavior by Stan and Jan.

  Jenny interrupted again, "Eee skehhie."

  "Yes, honey. We're ready to eat."

  They perched on stools at the warmly lit breakfast bar and bowed their heads, while Karen said a child’s prayer of thanks for the food. Jenny mumbled the words along with her mother. Karen served spaghetti noodles which she covered with spicy smelling meat sauce.

  "Nooo Blluuhh!" Jenny shook her head repeatedly pointing at the spaghetti sauce on her plate.

  "Sweetheart, this is good tomato sauce, with meat, just like we always have with spaghetti. What is this thing about blood tonight? You always love sketti, just like Daddy."

  They both began to pick at their food. Jenny didn’t want to eat it because of its symbolic appearance and Karen had lost her own appetite to disappointment and nagging suspicions. She concluded that she needed to speak to Mrs. Obenhauer about the sort of television programs she allowed Jenny to watch. She was more determined than ever to have a long talk with Stan.

  "Wahn cannie."

  "Jen, you’ve hardly eaten any of your sketti. Don't you want it at all? And what about the strawberry shortcake?” Jenny shook her head with determination.

  “Well, alright I guess. When you've finished the candy, we need to brush your teeth. I'll run your bath water as soon as I put away the dishes."

  Karen finished with the dishes and put left overs in the refrigerator for Stan. Once again, the face and figure of Jan Murray dribbled into her mind like a leaky faucet that just won't quit no matter how hard you twist the shut-off. She began again to nurse suspicious thoughts of Jan and Stan. Her thoughts produced an empty tugging feeling in her stomach and brought sinking hurt to her heart. As her imagination constructed scenes in greater detail, the sinking hurt evolved to anger.

  How could he do something like that to me or to Jenny? Would he even care if he never saw either of us again? The thoughts raged in her mind.

  She could understand Stan looking elsewhere, if it weren’t for Jenny. Karen knew that she wasn't the centerfold candidate that Jan was. But Jenny? Stan had always seemed to worship Jenny.

  Why would he risk losing her? Karen wondered. Maybe he thinks he can eat his cake and have it too.

  She couldn't imagine how anyone could love a child more than she loved Jenny and couldn't imagine giving her up for any reason.

  How could he possibly do that? Maybe he thinks I’ve loved Jenny too much. Maybe he thinks I’ve neglected his needs. I’ve always thought that he understood how important Jenny is to me, to both of us. Maybe I was wrong.

  Karen really had tried to balance her time and attention to Jenny, to their home, to her job, and to Stan. It wasn't easy. Sometimes she was so exhausted that she would just collapse on the couch after dinner and after Jenny had been tucked in bed. There just wasn't enough time or energy for her to be all that she would like to be, day in and day out. She imagined that Jan Murray, on the other hand, had lots of free time. Jan didn't have to be concerned about working and housekeeping and caring for a child.

  She probably has plenty of time and energy to entertain, be exciting, and please a man—like Stan! Oh Stan, how could you do this to me, to Jenny, to us?

  "Jen," Karen called from upstairs, "are you ready for your bath?" In the absence of an acknowledgment, she came downstairs to get Jenny and then helped her with her bath and dressed her in pajamas. They settled on the couch in the family room where she read happy ending fairy tales to the little girl until Jenny fell asleep.

  *****

  Stan entered the side door from the garage at eleven forty. He smelled the aroma of spaghetti sauce which lingered heavily in the kitchen. Dull pain still throbbed behind his eyes.

  He reached into a small cabinet above the refrigerator and took out a bottle of aged Kentucky bourbon and a large bottle of aspirin. He pou
red a double shot of the whiskey over ice and washed down two aspirin with it. Then he rummaged through another cabinet and found a small empty prescription bottle. He filled it with aspirin, from the larger container, and put the smaller bottle into his pocket. He poured another double shot of whiskey and lifted his tired body onto a stool at the breakfast bar. Between sips, he sat with his elbows on the counter and with his chin resting in the palm of his left hand. The fingers of his right hand massaged his tired eyes, trying to comfort the pain that lay behind them.

  He was greatly relieved to be almost finished with the Compton project but that wasn't helping his headache tonight. He would try to wrap up the project in the morning before his doctor appointment. He reasoned that if he could just have a relaxed weekend, then maybe the headaches would ease, and he could put his full attention to the Mid-City project starting Monday. And then, perhaps in a couple of weeks, he could finally take a real vacation with Karen and Jenny.

  After a while, scotch, aspirin and fatigue cloaked his pain. He was too tired to bother looking for anything to eat at the late hour. He turned off the kitchen lights and moved to the great room to turn off lights there.

  The presence of Karen and Jenny on the couch surprised him. He had assumed that they were in bed. He moved further into the room and stood in front of them, studying the two for several minutes. Karen was lying on her back on the couch. Her head was slightly raised by a throw pillow. Her left leg was extended on the couch and her right foot rested on the floor. Jenny lay, stomach down, on Karen's chest. Her face was turned toward Stan. The curly ends of her light brown hair draped her sweet innocent face. Her little arms lay limply at her sides. Karen's left arm was wrapped loosely around Jenny's back. Her right hand loosely held a small book that just touched the floor.

  Stan's heart choked with emotion at the sight of Karen and Jenny. He hated that he had not had more time to spend with them lately. The bourbon that he had just consumed added to depression that had lately followed the headaches. He felt burning in his eyes as tears of love and regret wanted to form. As he studied the two, his thoughts took him back to the beginning of his relationship with Karen.

  He remembered their first date, and the weeks of courtship that followed. He thought that Karen was the most beautiful girl that he had ever known, much less ever dated. Her hair was longer back then. It fell just below her shoulders. He remembered how captivating her soft, tanned skin was. And her eyes were hypnotic to him. Every word that she spoke was a doorway to further exploration of her soul. He soon realized that she had inner beauty that went beyond her terrific looks. She was kind and sensitive to the needs of other people, and had a passion for justice. He never heard her speak a unkind word about anyone. But she was not at all hesitant to speak out against the actions of people that reflected injustice. She steadfastly refused to sleep with Stan while they were dating.

  He recalled their honeymoon. They went directly from their wedding ceremony to the airport. They had reserved a ocean front room for five nights on Florida’s west coast. A lengthy plane delay caused them to arrive at their room late in the evening. Stan impatiently pitched their luggage through the doorway of their hotel room and hoisted Karen into his arms. He carried her straight to a queen size bed kicking the door closed, and his shoes off, on the way. He was hungry for her physical love. There would be no more tortured waiting, no stopping short of complete fulfillment this time. His smile turned from one of sweetness to one of disconcerting hunger.

  Karen had never felt such masculine muscular treatment. It heightened the anticipation that had been building in her over the last few hours. The hunger that showed in Stan's eyes brought both excitement and disquiet to her. But her own hunger won out over her apprehension.

  Stan could feel her pulse quickening through her thin silk blouse. He could see the anxious look in her eyes. He placed his hungry mouth over her full warm lips.

  Stan recalled now, that he was amazed at her responsiveness. She had always been completely self- controlled. He had only imagined that she would be so passionate. The searching touch of her hands fanned the flame of his passion. Soon both their clothes gave way to groping hands.

  After they made love, she fell asleep beside him.

  A warm ocean breeze gently waved opaque curtains in front of their open window. Through the thin material, light from a three quarter moon swept back and forth across Karen in harmony with the movement of the drapes. The soft light accentuated her beauty. He moved closer to gain a better view of her face and reached toward her with his hands.

  *****

  Stan's movement triggered her subconscious awareness. She felt a warm weight press against her chest and lifted her head.

  "What—oh—I guess I fell asleep." She saw Stan's face first and then saw his trembling hands as they approached her chest.

  Stan gently lifted Jenny in his arms and quietly carried her upstairs to her room while Karen turned off the lights. Jenny continued to sleep as Stan kissed her forehead and affectionately tucked her into bed. He placed her stuffed bunny beside her and quietly left her room.

  Karen entered the bathroom which adjoined their bedroom, and began to fill the tub with warm water. She was thinking about how she would open the conversation with Stan. She thought she smelled alcohol on his breath and wished that she hadn't. Lately, it seemed that Stan was difficult to talk with when he was drinking. And it seemed that he was doing more of that lately.

  Meanwhile, Stan undressed and stretched out in his boxer shorts on their king sized bed, while he waited for Karen to finish her bath. He closed his tired eyes. His thoughts returned to their wedding night, but only for a moment. His exhausted body and scotch sedated mind soon fell asleep.

  Karen came back into the bedroom and was disappointed to find him sound asleep. I guess it can wait until morning. It's late anyhow and he’s been drinking. Besides, she really hadn't quite decided how she would open the conversation. She thought some more about that before finally drifting off to sleep herself.

  Chapter 12

  Stan woke at six. He eased silently to the guest bathroom to take his shower to avoid waking Karen. She usually didn't get up quite that early. As soon as he showered and dressed, he quietly left the house. He wanted to get an early start on the day and finish the Compton project before his doctor appointment. He stopped at a drive-through for coffee and a croissant which he ate while driving to the office. His headache was hardly noticeable this morning, but still, he took two aspirin with the hot coffee, just in case it should return. He returned the pill bottle to his trouser pocket.

  It was another beautiful day just like yesterday. Man, I hope it stays this nice through the weekend. Maybe we can spend at least one day at the lake, he thought. He reminded himself that he needed to push his boat into the garage, so that he could service it. He started opening the car’s windows and thought about what happened yesterday. He recalled that he had just started opening the sun roof when the pain struck.

  Today, the sun roof opened without incident and the fresh scents of spring blended with the smell of his coffee. He inhaled deep breaths through his nose, enjoying the fragrances. Today, he didn’t bother turning the radio on. He wanted to enjoy the sound of birds singing. The sights, sounds, and scents of spring invigorated him. He sipped his coffee and enjoyed the warm taste.

  He wondered if the sense of taste of coffee was really taste, or was it actually smell. He thought of holding his nose as he took a sip, just to see if he could taste the coffee with his nose blocked. But he would have to steer with his knees in order to hold his nose with one hand and the coffee cup with the other. He remembered the near collision yesterday, and wisely returned his attention to driving. He sipped his coffee again and it brought a recollection of Jan’s spilled coffee at the office yesterday.

  He wondered if Jan had blisters from the coffee, and if she would be back at work today, and wou
ld she still be as angry. He hoped not. He wished now that he had phoned her last night to apologize. He knew that he needed to apologize and would definitely do so, as soon as he saw her. After all, they would need to work together on the Mid-City project, especially if Keith really intended to resign.

  Stan didn’t look forward to working close with Jan. It wasn’t a personal issue with him. He found her as physically attractive as did other guys at CTC. But he had always been dedicated to his work. And he knew that Jan didn’t share his professional work ethic. Knowing the reality of office politics though, he knew that he would have to force himself to get along with her, in spite of her faults. So he needed to bridge any gap that had come between them.

  Stan thought about how he might soothe the wrinkled relationship with Jan. He decided that he would stop at the gift shop in Parke Plaza after he finished his appointment with the doctor later in the morning. He'd try to find a nice replacement coffee mug for Jan. Maybe, I’ll pick up a surprise gift for her too. Yep, that's just what I’ll do. I‘ll extend a peace offering. Maybe she‘ll forget about yesterday and we can get on with our work.

  Stan arrived at CTC and immediately went to work. By seven forty five, he was nearing completion of the Compton project.

  “Morning Stan." Bob Steen, having just arrived, issued a passing greeting to Stan.

  Stan was sitting exactly where Bob last saw him the evening before. The manager wondered if Stan had been at work all night. But his concern was insufficient to trouble himself to ask. He chose instead to continue moving in the direction of his office. So did Keith Williams, who had just arrived. Keith had rarely been at work this early. He didn’t take time to exchange pleasantries with Stan. He just gave a quick wave and continued toward Bob Steen‘s office. Bob had just opened his desk and begun working with his computer, when Keith tapped on his open door and stepped into his office.