New Story Title: THE GUILTY CONSCIENCE
Intro: What does he know? What will he do?
Read and enjoy..
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* * * Now * * *
It was a small summer barbecue party, a few of our closest friends hanging out in our backyard, enjoying the bay view.
I’d never been that social, and was enjoying the camaraderie, the easy laughter, the comfortable give and take that happens between friendly couples. It was all so new to me, and I have to admit I enjoyed it. All thanks to my amazing wife Sue.
We have a large outdoor prep table where Sue and I were finishing the preparations before putting the food over the coals. She was fixing a huge salad, while I took care of the chicken.
“You heard that Bill Davis moved out?” Annie, one of the wives gossiped.
Our guests were all gathered on the back deck, while we were assisted in our endeavors. Dale, Annie’s husband was trimming and seasoning steaks for those who wanted them. Marie, the youngest in our small crowd, was mixing some kind of salad dressing. Rabbit food, not my favorite. Her husband Mark was sitting on a stool, watching. I couldn’t blame him. The three bikini tops deserved the attention.
My wife Sue laughed. “No surprise. I heard the bastard’s been cheating on her with one of the office bimbos for over a year.” She rolled out a couple of cherry tomatoes onto the heavy oak slicing board. “You know what I’d do if I caught him cheating?” she asked, grinning. She pulled out the tenderizing mallet and slammed it down hard on the pair of tomatoes and smashed them to a pulp.
The ladies laughed, as did I. Dale said ‘Ouch!’ earning more giggles, and a pretty loud guffaw from me.
Annie looked at me. “You think that’s funny?” she teased.
“Yeah. Anyone screwing around deserves what they’ve got coming.” I was working on slicing up a chicken, and thought I’d try to be part of the fun. “If I caught someone cheating,” I said, and then I lifted the chicken by the legs, spun the butcher knife across my fingers and over my palm, in my best Benihana style, razor sharp blade glinting in the sun. I lifted it high and then brought it down the center hard, between the legs and slicing the chicken neatly in half with a satisfying thunk that left the blade stuck about 1/2 an inch into the butcher block.
I didn’t get the laughs I expected, although both Annie and Marie chuckled. Oh well, I was never very good at humor, and with two quick strokes, carved the other two chickens neatly in half, so they could be grilled.
I spread out the chicken halves, and realized it had gotten pretty quiet. Sue looked pale, and she abruptly dropped what she was working on and went back indoors. The group split up, only Marie and I continued working alone.
“Not funny I guess,” I muttered. Damn, I sucked at socializing.
Marie giggled. “I thought it was,” she said, pouring her homemade dressing into a decanter. “I don’t know what got into them. She started it.”
I had patted the halves dry, and was adding salt and pepper. I liked things simple, always did. Kind of surprising that my life had gotten as complicated as it had, although I wasn’t complaining.
* * * Then * * *
Like I said, I’d never been very social. Pretty quiet, a nerdy outsider, I’d never been popular. Not a jock, not a ladies’ man, not in any clubs. In high school I was just doing my time, with no plans for the future. I was uncomfortable in large groups, but did just fine one-on-one or with a couple of friends. I wasn’t anti-social, I just preferred quiet.
I went to community college, and got a job at my father’s business nights, doing wiring and installation for networking, fire alarms and security systems. The work was done after-hours, and that was perfectly fine by me. It paid extra, and I was left alone. After a couple of months I had to fill out some paperwork, and learned I’d be getting a security clearance to do the installation work for a large government contract. Dad already had a clearance, and apparently that made getting mine easier.
It was a pretty miserable job, half my time up in ceilings and running fish-tape through walls. Dragging bundles of cables through undersized openings and spending hours labeling everything and punching down the connections. I didn’t mind that much. I did my thinking, and methodically installed, tested and retested each wire, plug and fixture. Lots of paper work, pre-wiring layouts, office wiring diagrams, post-wiring documentation, performance analysis numbers. I wasn’t the fastest, or the friendliest, but I was thorough, and never got a call-back to fix something for being installed half-assed. I almost always got us the follow on business, since I did what I said I’d do, when I said I’d do it, on time, on budget, with the gear I brought to the job.
Who knew that just doing the project correctly was exceptional in itself?
My cousin Jarrod was the one who introduced me to the opportunity that changed my life. It was pretty outlandish, moving to Antarctica, and doing a huge upgrade at a government installation on one of the most desolate locations I could think of. My clearances got me in the door, and the hardship pay made the decision easy. You don’t make a lot more money than you normally would, but with food and housing paid for, you get to keep almost all of it.
I know, I sound like I’m wandering here, but it’s important to explain how an under-educated, not particularly intelligent, middle class, scrawny geek could end up living on the beach, in the Florida pan-handle, in a home fully paid for, with a beautiful wife, a great job, neat toys, and interesting friends.
Not much to say about the job. Long hours. Long shifts. Some people drank, and there was a good bit of promiscuity, but not for me. I froze up around girls. Again, as a social misfit, I did my job, volunteered for some interesting tasks, and took advantage of the time and isolation to take college courses remotely, and continue to work on my degree. Strangely, I liked the life, made a few friends, and my bank account steadily grew.