Little White Lies

by Paul Watkins

  The message to the security team is simple and to the point. For instance, if a burglary happened to occur, it would be a problem; but if a member of the family were to be hurt during the commission of the burglary, that would be a calamity and a failure of the system. There is no confusion or ambiguity in the mission: the job is to protect the family… period. They are all professionals and I feel good about our ability to respond to just about anything with this crew.

  The rest of the items on my immediate agenda involve the restaurants. The managers’ kick-off meeting for next year is to be held at the Doral resort located in Miami. Doral is a golf and tennis compound featuring some of the best resort courses to be found on the southeast coast of Florida. The schedule includes meetings in the morning and recreation in the afternoon. The majority of the agenda has been settled. Still unresolved is the very ambitious plan toopen twelve new restaurants next year. Since we plan to open only one during the first quarter, we will be gaining momentum as the year progresses. The budget for this project is complex and we do not expect to complete it until the middle of January.

  So far I haven’t even thought about the holidays except to take care of gifts for the kids. After all, Christmas is really for children. The rest of us just join in the fun. I plan to give a nice bonus to the MacNamaras and let them decide what they want to do with it. Although close friends, we have always insisted upon maintaining a no-gift policy between us. It’s just easier all around.

  As for Karen, she called once when I was out of town. I returned the call, but all I got was her answering machine and I haven’t heard anything since. I’ve thought about getting a gift for her, however I don’t really know if I’ll ever see her again and I don’t want to send the wrong message. She still has a lot going on with the Jacksons and I wouldn’t want her to feel uncomfortable coming out here for fear of running into me.

  One thing has become very clear since I last saw her: I miss her more than I thought I would. I find myself thinking of her often. Nothing specific… just random thoughts, but they occur frequently and it’s during those times when I wish things could have been different. Perhaps the best course is to get on with my life and bury the past for good. Try to live a life without complications. It’s been three weeks since the Canada trip. It would seem like enough time to forget about her and get back to work, but that’s not the way it’s going right now. A little more time is probably all I need. At least I hope that’s all I need.

  Perhaps the reason I’m having difficulty getting over Karen has more to do with the way our relationship ended. It’s not just that it ended on a bad note… it really didn’t end at all. Not in a formal sense anyway. Well however it ended, formal-informal, it’s over and I have to get it behind me… get to a point where it doesn’t intrude on my thoughts without my bidding. I want to be in control of my mind and this kind of thing sometimes doesn’t allow as much personal discipline as I would like. To be honest… I thought all this stuff was over when a person reached twenty. Now I’m wondering if it will pass by the time

  I’m fifty. What a bummer.

  ***

  Each day, as we get closer to Christmas, the bedlam index goes up a notch. Preparations of every sort are in full swing. Shana is the only one who seems to be taking all this in her tiny stride. Little Jeff, on the other hand, is practically out of his mind with anticipation. It’s hard to believe someone less than four years old can have so many questions. Do you have to be good all year long to get presents? Is Santa black or white? Does he like black kids as much as white kids? Could I be one of Santa’s helpers some day? How about Mommy and Daddy… have they been good enough… you know, I’ve heard Daddy swearing…

  do you think Santa heard him? Will Mommy and Daddy get me presents if Santa doesn’t get any for me? If I did something wrong and I was sorry… is that okay? Does Santa have our address? Do you think he needs our ZIP code? Do you think he ever uses UPS when he’s late? How many helpers does he have? If I write to him, will he write back? Suppose I get a gift and I want to exchange it… how would I do that? The list goes on and on.

  The questions are not just for me alone. Jeff-Jeff grills every member of the household without exception, letup, or mercy. The answers are compared and any discrepancies are taken back to the original source until everything is in sync. Little Jeff will probably make a good trial attorney some day. He doesn’t seem to forget anything, at least anything important to a four-year old when it comes to Mr. Claus. He forgets to clean his room and wash his hands, but all this is clearly different. Motivation is a wonderful thing.

  Sheri has decorated the entire first floor of the house with holly and pine boughs. The tree is perfectly centered in the large bay window at the end of the living room. The floor beneath the tree is covered with presents and the pile grows higher every day. Outside the decorations continue on throughout the property. The crabapple trees bordering the driveway from the house to the gate are covered with tiny white lights, creating a show in their more Spartan wintertime setting that almost equals their springtime blossom spectacular. They sparkle and twinkle in the crisp night air. Snow would make the effect still more impressive, but so far we’ve had nothing more than a light dusting of the white stuff.

  The resident fruitcakes, A.J. and Sheri, are completely taken with the holiday spirit. Hardly a day goes by without a new surprise being hatched by one or the other, each thinking the other has no idea of what’s going on. They are worse than any children I’ve ever seen, including their own. Both are constantly on the lookout for hiding places the other might have used to squirrel away some fantastic treasure. I think the rationale has something to do with a present discovered before Christmas cannot be considered a Christmas present. The penalty: go buy something else… I already have this one and now it doesn’t count. The activity is non-stop and the days are rushing by far too quickly.

  The only adult who seems to be immune to all this hub-bub is Mary Stanley. She never joins in any family activities if she can help it. Basically, she keeps her distance. At first I thought it was just me, that I was a problem somehow, but I talked to Sheri about it and she claims Mary has been that way for a long time, the better part of a year, at least. Sheri feels Mary does what is required of her, which is all she asks. She’s good with the kids, so from Sheri’s point of view Mary has covered the most important part of her job.

  I suppose she’s right. Perhaps there’s a tendency to apply a different standard to someone who cares for the children. After all, if one of the security guys did a good job, but sort of kept to himself and didn’t havemuch to do with the rest of the staff, I probably would think little of it. Maybe a little gender bias is rearing its ugly head.

  The end of the week is finally upon us and my employers have a small dinner party planned for a few of their friends. A.J. asked me if I would like to join them and with some reluctance I agreed. I don’t want to come across as old Scrooge, but I still have a lot to do and I’m running out of time. I’ve been sucked into a couple of A.J.’s schemes and wound up wasting all kinds of time with his pointless screwing around. I don’t know, maybe it’s not pointless… maybe it’s just bugging me because I don’t feel very merry right now. I vowed I’d get this work done and I’m not doing very well at keeping my vow. On the other hand, the schedule I’m working against is my own and the world won’t come to an end if I’m late. It just bothers me that I can’t seem to find the time to wrap it up.

  Cocktails are usually served in the library whenever the party is on the small side, however tonight A.J. asked to have a portable bar set up in the living room so everyone can enjoy the tree. The guests started arriving around seven-thirty, but I decided to hang out with the security guys for a while. A.J. just paged me for the second time, so I guess I can’t put it off any longer. I’m not in the mood for festivities tonight so I’m going to leave as early as I can. First chance I get I’ll make my excuses to
A.J. and get back to my office… I’m sure he won’t mind. Maybe all I need is a good workout… a real good sweat. Get all the poison out.

  A.J. knows I’ve met all of his guests at one time or another, still he insists on taking me around the room and going through the introductions all over again. He always introduces me as ‘his friend and associate’. It’s very nice of A.J. to treat me as one of the gang, but I have an uneasy feeling about confusing people concerning my status here. First and foremost, I am A.J.’s employee. But it wouldn’t do to set my boss straight at a party in his own home. It must be the Christmas spirit that makes me so carefree lately. Either that or I just don’t give a damn.

  I turn in response to a tap on my shoulder and lo and behold, there before me is a very pretty and a more than welcome sight. Karen is standing there looking as beautiful as I’ve ever seen her. I’m not in shock or anything, but I don’t want to ruin the moment with talk either. I’m trying to memorize every detail in case she should suddenly disappear. I notice several guests looking at her in open admiration and I couldn’t agree with them more.

  “Hello, Karen. Merry Christmas! Would be nice,” she says with a hint of gentle sarcasm in her voice. Then she stands on her tiptoes and whispers in my ear, “I’ve missed you and I love you would be even better.” She gives my earlobe a little nip and tug before backing away.

  “I guess I’m still in shock,” I reply in a lame attempt to slither off the subject. Our first words in almost a month shouldn’t be combative. Instead I kiss her ear lightly and whisper, “Merry Christmas.” Another light kiss and I’m upright and fairly steady.

  A slight involuntary shudder dances through her shoulders and once again she’s on the offensive.

  “That’s it? That’s all I get for driving all this way? Come on, you drudge, I’ve decided to let bygones be bygones. I forgive you for not calling me every day. Also, in the spirit of the holidays, I forgive you for making such a mess of things after our trip. Now you can get a glass of wine for me and you will be completely returned to my good graces.”

  Her short speech ends with a theatrical flourish. Everyone within earshot is watching her little display with good humor. She just loves this stuff. She knows damn well that by drawing attention to us she effectively renders me mute. I don’t like public displays and it’s to her advantage to make it as loud as she can. Karen’s too cute for anyone to think ill of her. As for me, I just look at her and wonder how such a little person can be so absurdly full of it. I start to reply for the sake of the record, but then realize it will avail me nothing. I shake my head and walk to the bar as instructed.

  When I return with the wine I find Karen and Sheri talking. It’s obvious that all this is Sheri’s doing… I’m just one of the boxes on her surprise list. Well, she can check it off… it worked.

  “What are you two criminals plotting now,” I ask, handing the wine to Karen.

  “It really bothers me when you describe my wife so accurately,” A.J. comments, joining our group from my right. “I’ll have you know, sir, my wife has every intention of going straight when she reaches old age.

  Until then, keep your observations to yourself… and myself, in case I ever need any help getting her arrested.”

  “Shut up, A.J.,” Sheri snaps in mock anger, “no one wants to hear your nonsense tonight. We are here to have a good time, which means you can keep your opinions right inside that airball you call your head.”

  “Isn’t she sweet,” A.J. asks smiling. “If she wasn’t so beautiful, I would kick her right in that great lookin’ ass of hers.”

  “That’s it, A.J.,” Sheri says, cutting off any further comment. “We’re going to have a nice evening. No more smut.” Then she takes A.J.’s arm and says in a stage whisper, “You can tell me more about my great derriere later… when we’re alone.”

  A.J. chuckles and shoots an elbow into my ribs, “They all love that line.”

  Sheri’s glare is enough to put the quiet to A.J. Now with a look of complete innocence, she turns to me and says, “I’m so glad you both could make our party this evening.”

  I can’t help but laugh.

  “I’m going to have to get your TV fixed, Sheri. You have too much time on your hands. However, in this case, I’m grateful.”

  “Isn’t this great?” Karen says with her patented tinkle of laughter. “We’re all together again.”

  “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here,” I say, finding myself caught up in the spirit of the moment. “I had no idea about any of this. It’s the best possible present I could have asked for… ah, except forone other maybe… but you would have to be here for that one too.”

  Karen looks bewildered, but only for an instant. She slides over and takes my arm, “Why, Mr. Richards, how you do carry on. If I didn’t know better I would think you were trying to compromise my wonderful reputation.” Then she gives me an anxious look. One designed to fool absolutely no one. “I mean, you are going to compromise me, aren’t you? Please say you will. It was such a long drive. I would hate to go home without being compromised.”

  “Be careful, Karen,” I reply, “or I might compromise you right here and now. We would wind up being the evening’s entertainment. Sheri would make all the society pages… she’d love it.” We stare at each other during the milliseconds that separate humans from the rest of the animal kingdom. “Come on,” I plead, “let’s sit down before I do something shameful.”

  Looking around the room I can’t find two chairs together, but Karen comes to my rescue in her gentle fashion. “One chair will be enough… I intend to sit realclose.”

  ***

  The seating for dinner is mixed appropriately so all the guests will get to spend time with people they don’t normally see. I watch as Karen switches her card so we are seated together.

  “I didn’t travel all this way to watch you from afar,” she says with a smirk and still another jab to my ribs.

  Why is it the smallest people are the most aggressive? It seems they are always pushing or hitting to make their point. I think it’s the same way with dogs. The smallest dogs always seem to bark the most with the least provocation. I’m going to have to think about it some more, but it probably wouldn’t do to announce my intentions in that regard just yet, especially with respect to that particular analogy. Best to keep a lid on it and avoid any misunderstandings.

  The party crowd has spent their time getting well oiled and the conversation is loud as they attack their meals with gusto. A.J. is in his element. Somehow the discussion has worked its way around to life’s most embarrassing moments. A.J. is telling a raucous version of a show he did while having a bad case of the ‘purple squirts’, also known as the runs. He is recounting in great detail how he took every opportunity to leave the stage and rush to the bathroom. Each time he made a new entrance the applause grew louder.

  “After a while,” he finishes, wiping tears from his eyes, “I was wondering what they appreciated more… my singing or my bowel movements.”

  “It was probably a pretty close call,” I observe, trying to help him out as best I can.

  “Well, I can tell you this,” A.J. remarks with a much-too-late show of dignity, “it’s the first time I ever had more close calls than curtain calls.”

  “All right, you two,” Sheri says slamming her palm down on the table for emphasis, “this is a dinner party… not a stag party.”

  A.J.’s smirk does nothing to help his cause. There are more stories about life’s most embarrassing moments with some of the guests abstaining. Finally it’s my turn and I have to participate or listen to Karen’s crap about how predictable I am. She bet me I wouldn’t tell a story on myself. Her comment is purely manipulative, but it’s time she was put in her place, although I’m not sure this is the best way to do it.

  “I’ve had many embarrassing moments i
n my life,” I begin, “but in the interest of decorum and in keeping with the Christmas spirit, I will tell you about a time when I was put in my place with a slam dunk… and it happened right about this time of year. I was a newly commissioned officer in the military. I had just completed training and was on my way home to visit my parents and show them my shiny new gold bars. New York City was on the way and I decided to stop there overnight and visit friends.

  “The next day, while packing to leave, I managed to break a catch on one of my suitcases. The suitcase was worthless and it had to be returned to the factory for repairs, so I decided to pick up a new bag at one of the big department stores… Macy’s, I think. Strutting around the luggage department, I must have been pretty full of myself… certain that everyone in the entire city was completely dazzled by my gold bars and crisp new uniform. I suppose there’s no one who is quite as impressed with himself as a new parade-ground soldier.

  “As I looked through the various pieces of luggage, a little old lady came up to me and asked where a certain department was located in the store. I told her I had no idea. Before I could say anything more, she stamped her foot and asked why I didn’t know more about what went on there. I asked her why she thought I should. After all, I thought, I was just another customer like herself. ‘Well, why not’, she challenged, ‘you’re the elevator operator, aren’t you?’

  “For a moment I was absolutely dumbfounded. Then it all hit home… my opinion of my status in life and my tacit assumption that everyone shared it, and God’s idea of what’s really funny. I started laughing… I couldn’t help it. I thought I cut such a dashing figure as a newly minted army officer… a staunch defender of all that’s good and true, only to be confused with an elevator operator by one of those people I was sworn to defend and protect. Anyway, she became quite angry at my reaction and she stomped off to find someone competent. I was never able to look at myself in quite the same way after that little episode.”