Jocelyn came racing to my bedroom. “Daddy, Daddy, something’s wrong with Poppa!” she yelled.
I ran into the living room, in a panic. My father was on his knees, sweating heavily and clutching his chest. I had never seen fear in my father’s eyes, but I swore I saw it in that moment.
“Pops, are you okay?” I asked him.
I tried to help him up, but he frowned, slapped my hand away, and stood up by himself.
“Get off me. I ain’t no damn cripple. I’m a man,” he snapped.
“Pops, maybe you should see a doctor. You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine. I’m tired, and I lost my balance. That’s all.”
As he said that, he winced in pain and collapsed to his knees again. Once again, and for the second time this evening, I saw panic in his eyes.
“S-son, I need to rest a little bit,” he said as he stood up. He was wobbly on his feet and was panting.
“Pops, you’re scaring me right now. We should go to the emergency room.”
“We don’t need . . . to go to the emergency room, because there’s no emergency. I’ll be fine,” he insisted.
I frowned. “Pops, this isn’t the time to be stubborn. Let me take you to the hospital. This looks serious.”
“Son, just take me to my room. I think I overexerted myself today and need to rest. I’ll be good as new in the morning.”
I helped him up the stairs to his bedroom. His bed was neatly made. I expected nothing less from my father. As I stood there, refusing to leave him alone, he slowly changed his clothes and got into bed.
“Son?”
“Yes, Pops?”
“I heard you arguing with Karen. Make sure you never fight in front of the girls.”
I looked at him curiously. “I won’t, Pops.”
“Arguing with a woman is like putting out a fire. Sometimes putting water on it makes things worse. Sometimes nothing you do will extinguish it. You have to let the fire burn out and run its course.” Pops paused to catch his breath and then continued. “Arguing with Karen when both of you are mad isn’t going to change anything. Fighting with her in front of the kids will only make matters worse. The only solution to your problem is time. You both need to calm down and speak to each other away from the children, and when you both can think logically. Don’t let your emotions get in the way of logic, son.”
I nodded. “I understand, Pops.”
“I know I’ve always been hard on you, but I’m proud of you, son. You’ve grown up to become a good man.”
“Thanks.”
I’d never seen Pops look so sick. While I’d love to take him to the emergency room, I know he’d gouge his eyes out before he’d let me. My father rarely went to the doctor. He hated to look weak in front of anyone. I respected his wishes.
“I love you, Pops.”
“I love you too, son.”
I had never heard my father say those words back to me.
“Rest up, Pops,” I said as I inched toward his door.
“I’ll be all right. I’ll see you in the morning, son.”
“See you in the morning.”
I left the room and closed his bedroom door. When I went back downstairs, I explained to the girls that Pops was sick, but that he’d be good as new in the morning. I played with them for a while and then put them to bed. I prayed for my old man before I went to sleep that night.
* * *
I woke up the next morning to my children’s laughter. It was ten on a Saturday morning. As soon as I got out of bed, I went to check on Pops. I walked to his bedroom door; it was still closed. He was always up by five o’clock in the morning, six at the latest. I didn’t think much of it, because I knew he was sick. So I headed to the living room, where I found my kids sitting on the couch, giggling at cartoons. I sat down and joined them.
At around noon, I went to check on my father again. His bedroom door was still closed. Sick or not, I’d never known him to sleep until noon. I knocked on the door. No answer. The door creaked as I opened it. Pops was still in bed.
“Pops, you must really be sick. I’ve never seen you sleep this late.”
He didn’t answer. I walked over to the bed.
“Pops?”
Still, he was silent. I shook him.
“Dad!” I shouted.
He didn’t answer. His eyes were closed, and he had a peaceful look on his face.
“Pops, please! I can’t lose you! I need you more than ever now. Please God, don’t take him from me. Please don’t do this to me now. Haven’t I gone through enough?”
Karen
I stubbed my fucking toe on the bathroom door as I rushed out of the shower to grab my ringing cell phone. I was in a hurry to get dressed for Pops’s funeral.
“Hello?” I said, wincing and massaging my toe.
“Hello, Karen. It’s Roger.”
“Hey. How are you?”
“I’m well. You’ve called in sick most of the week, and you left work early yesterday, before Human Resources, your union delegate, or I had a chance to talk to you. Human Resources, your union delegate, and I have left you numerous messages throughout the week, and we all called you last night, but you haven’t returned our calls.”
“I’m sorry. I had a lot going on . . .”
“I’m calling because I have to deny your request to take more time off. Human Resources and I have been calling you and emailing you to tell you that the higher-ups want to close out this investigation today. They want you to report in at seven.”
I couldn’t believe that of all days for this shit to happen, it had to be today. I pleaded with Roger.
“Roger, please, is there any way we can reschedule this for tomorrow or later on during the day today?”
“I know you requested time off today, but no. When corporate wants you to show up to close out an investigation, there are no excuses. Everything is on their terms. I wouldn’t even bring it up to them, out of fear that they could use it as leverage to let you go.”
“Roger, I know I haven’t mentioned it to you or to anyone at the company, but Chris’s father died last week. His father’s funeral is today. I can’t come in to work. I haven’t responded to calls or emails, because I, along with my family, have been mourning. I didn’t say anything to anyone at the company about it, because I wanted to keep my personal life private.”
Roger sighed. “I truly wish you had told me this earlier. First, my condolences to you and your family. I’m very sorry to hear about your father-in-law passing. I will relay the message to the higher-ups, but I will be honest. Seeing that you didn’t say anything, it might come across as you delaying the process out of convenience. I don’t see the meeting being very long. Do you think you could handle things here and make it back in time for the funeral?”
My heart was telling me not to take the risk. I truly wanted to be there for Chris and my kids and show my respects to Pops, but I knew that going to this meeting and fighting for my job was the logical choice.
“I’ll be there,” I said.
“Great! Good luck with everything today. Remember what I told you. Be truthful with your answers.”
“I will. Thank you for everything, Roger.”
“You’re welcome. Take care of yourself today.”
I ended the call and immediately felt nauseated. Lately, all this stress had been making me queasy. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for what I’d say to Chris. I knew he would be angry and would possibly hate me forever, but I had to do this if I wanted to have a chance of keeping my job. If we were to survive as a couple, we couldn’t survive on a single salary. If shit happened and we got divorced, there would be no way I could survive if I was unemployed.
I called Chris and explained the situation with my job, and I told him I’d probably be late to the funeral. Hearing the disappointment and anger in his voice killed me inside. I felt like everything I did ended up hurting him. I cried when Chris ended the call. I was tired of feeling like a vi
llain.
Chris
I looked up at the overcast sky and sighed. The downpour on this dreary day emphasized the fact that my father was gone. My daughters were inconsolable. They were crying as they held my hands. I won’t lie. I was devastated and would’ve loved to go somewhere and bawl too, but like Pops had always taught me, I had to be strong for my children.
The service was filled with my father’s old military friends and construction buddies. The reverend, a friend of my father’s who had served with him on active duty, gave a nice service. When he was finished, he motioned for me to approach the podium to say some words on my father’s behalf. I kissed the girls, and Nadine held their hands while I stood in front of everyone and spoke about how great my father was. I took a moment to compose myself, and then I told them about the last conversation I had had with Pops. I said that even though we didn’t always see eye to eye, I wouldn’t change anything about him. He’d always been there for me, and he’d made me the man I was today, and for that, I’d always be grateful.
A few moments later I stood next to Nadine and my children as my father’s casket was lowered into the grave next to my mother’s. My little girls sobbed and held on tightly to me. I tried to be strong, but seeing Pops being lowered into the ground, hearing my children crying, and not having Karen with us were killing me inside. My hands trembled. Nadine touched my shoulder and hugged me. Will and Lou patted me on the back. I took a deep breath, stood up straight, and remained strong for my children.
When it was over, my father’s friends lined up to shake my hand and give their condolences. Hearing them tell me funny stories about my father, and say how much I reminded them of him, made my grief worse. I held my pain inside and thanked everyone for coming. Nadine stayed with the girls while I did what I needed to do. I appreciated her being there after Karen called and said she couldn’t make it.
Things with Karen had been better this past week. Pops’s death had me emotional, and I had felt all week as if it was helping to bring us closer together. I had started to believe that in time, maybe we could work things out, but her absence today had ruined any reconciliation we could’ve had.
The beginning of the end had started at 6:00 a.m., when she called me.
“Chris . . . ,” she’d said tentatively after I picked up the phone.
“Are you on your way here? You’re late. The limo will be here at seven to take all of us to the funeral service.”
“I . . . I’m probably going to be late to the funeral today, Chris. I’m sorry.”
I’d taken a deep breath. “Why?”
“The higher-ups at work want to settle everything with my ‘situation’ this morning. Since I was already on thin ice, I requested to take the day off, but I never told them there was a death in the family. My supervisor just called to tell me my request was denied, and I’m to report to the conference room to close out the investigation.”
“Did you tell them you have to reschedule? Did you mention that your husband’s father died?”
“Chris, I couldn’t reschedule—”
“Are you telling me you’re not coming to my father’s funeral? As much as he did for us, you owe him that much.”
“You make it sound like I want to miss it. I know how important this is to you, to us. I loved Pops too, Chris. You know that, but this isn’t personal. This is business. If I don’t go to this hearing, I could lose my job—”
“If you hadn’t been fucking around, you wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. This is personal. It’s personal between me and you. You have to choose, Karen. Are you coming to the funeral, or are you going to work? Is it going to be business or your family?”
“Don’t do this, Chris. I’m sorry. I’m not choosing business over my family, but I have to go to this meeting for my family. We can’t survive on a single salary alone.”
I shook my head in disgust. “There’s always an excuse with you, Karen. If you miss this fucking funeral today, don’t bother talking to me again.”
“Chris . . . wait. Please listen to me.”
“No, you listen. If you miss my father’s funeral, I don’t want shit to do with you anymore. We’re done. Do you understand?”
“Chris, you’re upset right now, and you’re not thinking clearly—”
“I can’t be any clearer. Your actions today will show me what I mean to you.”
“That’s not fair. You know I love you. You’re blowing this way out of proportion.”
“Either come to the funeral or stay the fuck away from me. It’s as simple as that!” I yelled.
I ended the call before she could say anything else. I was tired of hearing her bullshit. I turned around and saw my kids watching me from the doorway. I remembered what Pops had said about fighting with Karen in front of them, and I felt like shit.
“Were you talking to Mommy, Daddy?” Jocelyn asked.
I didn’t know how to answer that. “Yeah . . . I’m a little upset because Mommy has to work and won’t be able to come to Poppa’s funeral.”
“You and Mommy are always fighting,” Jaclyn said.
At that moment, I knew my father’s advice was right. Getting divorced from Karen would be hard enough on the kids. To avoid completely fucking them up mentally and emotionally, I had to avoid fighting with Karen in front of them.
Nadine, Will, and Lou were the first group of people I saw at the funeral when the girls and I got there about an hour and a half after hanging up with Karen. I briefly told Nadine what had happened with Karen, while Will and Lou chatted with the girls.
“I’m sorry . . . ,” Nadine said.
“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything.”
“I know, but you’re hurting, and I wish I could do more for you.”
“You being here means a lot to me,” I told her.
My friends were here, but the woman who was my wife wasn’t. It was time to make some adjustments in my life.
Karen
My anxiety was killing me. I had waited an hour and a half outside the conference room before I was called in to see the investigators. I had thought that this would be a quick meeting and that I wouldn’t be too late for the funeral, but that didn’t happen.
I walked into the conference room, where three male representatives from corporate; Helen, the representative from HR; a female delegate from my union; and several others were waiting. They all wore serious expressions and gave me questioning and accusatory looks. I felt like I was doomed before they asked the first question. One of Helen’s assistants from Human Resources read me the rules for the company and explained that this investigation would be recorded. Next, he clicked on a small black recorder, and the representatives from corporate began rattling off questions. I answered them, sticking to the story Tyrell had told them.
“Mrs. Davis, can you explain why you felt the need to give Mr. Stevens additional training on the side?” the lead corporate representative asked.
“Tyrell’s job performance was poor. He was very close to being let go because he wasn’t grasping the job quickly enough. After speaking with him, I felt he had the potential to do his job more efficiently with the right supervision.”
“Have you ever engaged in sexual intercourse with Mr. Stevens?” asked another of the three corporate representatives, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair.
A wave of heat hit me. My mouth went dry. I swallowed hard. “No, I’ve never engaged in any type of sexual intimacy with Mr. Stevens.”
Their questions became more aggressive and accusatory. They read anonymous testimonies from other employees and brought up nasty rumors that had spread around the office.
“This anonymous testimony states, ‘I watched Mrs. Davis and Tyrell go in her office late at night and come out smiling, laughing, and adjusting their clothes after being in there for close to twenty minutes,” said the lead representative from corporate.
I shifted in my seat, and he continued.
“This testimony state
s, ‘There have been lots of people who have had bad evaluations, and Mrs. Davis never attempted to give any of them additional training. It’s almost comical that she thinks no one knows that they are having sex.”
I took a deep breath. Everyone in the room was analyzing my every move, so I tried to keep my facial expressions neutral. I didn’t want to come off as guilty.
“You say that you’ve never engaged in sexual intercourse with your subordinate, but why are there so many employees saying the two of you have been intimate in your office? Tell us the truth,” demanded the third corporate representative, a middle-aged man in a pin-striped suit.
I couldn’t stop the tears from running down my face.
“If you’re being honest, why are you crying?” asked the lead corporate representative.
“I’m crying because I’m being falsely accused with these hurtful allegations. I didn’t do any of the things that are written in those testimonies. I never slept with Tyrell.”
My answer made them back off a bit. They stopped grilling me for a moment and looked at each other.
“Are you aware of the rumor that Mr. Stevens’s wife, Pamela, has also had intercourse on corporate grounds?” asked the representative in the pin-striped suit.
I didn’t play into the question. I kept my answer simple. “I’ve heard the rumor, but I don’t believe it, because I’ve never seen anything that proves it, and there are always rumors going around the office. Most times they’re false.”
The representatives from corporate nodded.
“We are going to recess for one hour. We should have a decision when we return,” the lead representative announced.
I left the conference room, shaking. The delegate from my union followed my into the hallway and approached me.
Love and Happiness Page 17
