“I just feel kind of dirty about this,” said Dave.
“You’re feeling sorry for Franklin,” I said. “You may be feeling some remorse for what we’ve done. Look at the brighter side: We haven’t killed anybody. We haven’t stolen anything. We didn’t show that photograph to his children; we only threatened to.”
“Yeah, but what if he didn’t crack?” asked David. Would we have gone through with it? Walter, would you have done it?”
Walter didn’t reply; he only concentrated on his drink.
“Do you see what we’ve become?” continued David. “We’re a type of vigilante group, almost home-grown terrorists. We scared that man to death!”
“Yes, yes, you’re correct,” I said. “We did all that. We’re guilty. We’ve skirted the law and circumvented common decency. But sometimes common decency is slow, and we needed to move fast, before this relationship with the chocolate lady became more serious.”
Walter chimed in, “It’s a good thing we nipped this romance in the bud, before anything else developed… like a new rich chocolate baby.” He laughed and turned back to his drink.
David looked unconvinced; his attitude was beginning to bother me, so I had to do some fast-talking.
“Besides,” I said, “if we had been gentlemanly, if we had been civil about this, Dr. Burke might have simply said ‘No’ to us, and that would have been that. Don’t you think it’s better to operate in anonymity, without him knowing who we are and where we live?”
“You act as though we were super-heroes, with secret identities, like Batman,” said David.
“More like ‘The Shadow,’ I said. “We didn’t beat anybody up, we only had the ability to cloud men’s minds.”
David began to respond a bit. “I suppose…,” he began. “Life is preferable living in secret than being exposed as to what we’ve done: scaring a man straight.”
“Scared straight,” Walter repeated. “Where have I heard that before?”
David and I laughed at this. Walter’s time in stir had had a “rehabilitative” effect on him; it convinced him he’d be a better man with his skills. As a result of prison, he’d also become much better at learning how not to be caught.
“David, you haven’t done anything wrong,” I said. “You were invited into their home to paint a bedroom, and you did a good and honest job, only in disguise.”
Walter and David looked at each other.
“Then you took some pictures of the family portraits and photographs, for which you charged nothing.”
Walter and David laughed a bit at this, then David replied, “And I drove Walter to the party also!”
“Well, yes,” I agreed. “He couldn’t drive and put on clown make-up at the same time!”
We all shared in a laugh. It was late, and we were tired and felt a bit silly. We felt as though a weight had been lifted off our shoulders.
“Maybe we did do something good after all,” said David. “Maybe we did save a family.”
Walter piped up, “If we’ve done nothing else in our lives, this ought to count for something. Those kids need their daddy….the bum.”
“And Helen needs her security,” said David. He looked at me and said, “How would you feel if they wound up getting divorced anyway, because of his antics?”
“If this works, I don’t think Helen needs to know about his infidelity,” I said. “I won’t tell on Franklin, because hopefully he’ll be a good daddy and husband now. You two need to keep this under your hats, also.”
Walter took a drink, and said, “You’re doing too much for her, Randall, after how she screwed you over in college.”
“We’ve been over all that,” I replied. “Why mess up her life, or her kids’ lives?”
This seemed to placate Walter and David, and we remained quiet for a moment, thinking on this. This was going to have to be a lifetime secret.
Wanting to break the heavy silence, I tried looking at this from another angle. “You’ve seen Susan Lovely, Walter. Do you think you could resist her charms if she were to throw them in your direction?”
“Ha! Sure I could!” said Walter. “There’s not an underwear/bikini millionaire model on the planet I couldn’t resist!”
This made David laugh out loud; I grinned at this.
“And do you really think she’d waste her charms on me?” asked Walter. “I’m no doctor. I’m not a millionaire, nor a male model.”
“I heard that,” I said. “No such luck here either. But if, and that’s a big ‘if,’ she happened to like either you or me, just by some sheer infinitesimal chance, do you think you’d be able to turn down something like that?”
Walter took another drink, then plunked his mug on the table. “Probably not.”
“Yes. Probably not. Me too,” I said.
David sat there with a momentary silence out of respect to us. He was the only married one, the only married man. He’d found happiness in romance and matrimony, and we were glad for him.
I looked at David, then at Walter. I nodded towards David, and we focused in on him. “Well, David, we’ve corrupted you. You’re one of us, now. One of the trio. A vigilante, an underground man of righteousness, a judge. An honorable man.”
“Oh, sure, I’m sure I’m all of those things,” chuckled David. “I’m more of a coward than you two; I have more to lose. I don't know how you talked me into this.”
“David,” I said, “we needed your insight and judgment. Walter is all know-how, and I’m mostly a bundle of nerves. We needed a healthy balance between the two. You’ve given us that. The three of us together managed to hammer out a plan that seems to have worked. Let’s stop this wondering and drink to the happy marriage.”
We all raised our glasses, and finished up for the night. Kim was glad; it was getting late for her, too. She probably thought it was time for those foolish three men to go home; it was probably past their bedtimes. We left her a big tip as an apology.
After getting home, I e-mailed Helen and Mindy with a message saying I had done some research, and according to my findings, Dr. Burke was innocent of any suspicions. He was merely a friend to the Lovely family, and had probably used poor judgment while comforting Miss Lovely after her grandfather died, but poor judgment didn’t make him unloyal. Case closed. Marriage saved.
Back to the Routine
The next day I showed up for work with a splitting headache, and couldn’t figure out if it was from the soda pops, from the lack of sleep, or the new ravages of entering early old age, or all three. Anyway, there I was at the drafting board, trying to concentrate on how to make water run away from the building of our latest project.
The bosses popped in and out, looked over my shoulder at the drawings, gave a “Hmmm” and an “Uh-huh,” but didn’t say anything else. They stood around a little bit; that was part of their job, then left to go do something else. They just showed up because they were expected to do that. Guess they knew I didn’t want to be bothered with a bunch of questions; goodness knows I didn’t want to answer any, especially early in the morning.
I calculated and figured for a few hours, concentrating so much it was as though I were drawn into another world; that happens when one deals with math; for a short while, you really are in another dimension. The biggest concern I had all morning was making sure all the numbers added up, and to remember to carry the “2.”
I would have this project done in a week, then I’d turn it over to the other engineers so they could check my work. They wouldn’t find any problems; they’ll make suggestions and try to add to or take away from it, but after they look at it for another week, they’ll give it their okay and pass it on to the other inspectors.
At just before noon, I went to visit Miss Planter; that is, I went to my mental health appointment. Nobody at work knew that I was visiting a mental health counselor, since I didn’t want anybody asking any foolish questions or coming to conclusions that I was depressed or suicidal or losing my mind. There were some people who seemed to look for a
reason or an excuse to fire others, so I didn’t want to give them one. Besides, it was none of their business anyway; if I wanted to get my brains checked over, that’s between me and my counselor. Why involve the general public in this?
Phyllis welcomed me in a pleasant manner at noontime. While sitting in the waiting area, I could hear her talking on the work phone, making plans for lunch. Since appointments were scheduled during my lunch break, I wondered: Had I been taking up Miss Planter’s lunch time as well?
Miss Planter came out of her office, greeted me, and after we went into the office I asked her if I was ruining her dinner plans. She looked a little surprised, then said “No, it’s no bother; I schedule people whenever they can make it.”
I said, “Let’s cancel today’s session. Let me take you out to dinner.”
There was even more surprise on Miss Planter’s face. “Don’t you think this would blend into the area of your personal life, or my personal life?” she asked. “I’m a counselor and you’re a client/patient; there are rules to this game.”
“Well, then, let’s have a session, but go out to eat,” I replied. “You can still charge for the session and you won’t miss a meal. In fact, I’m hungry and don’t think I’ll enjoy this session without something in my stomach.”
She gave in, smiled, and got her purse. We went out to the waiting area and told Phyllis that we were walking down to a local restaurant; we asked her if she wanted us to bring her anything. She said no, that she was meeting her boyfriend and would be back at 1 p.m. Yep, she’ll be married soon.
Miss Planter and I took the elevator down to the first floor and left the building, walking down to a nearby barbecue place, a locale we could agree on. We found a booth, got comfortable, and ordered.
“You seem a little chipper today,” Miss Planter said. “You’re acting as if something good has happened. Has it?”
I smiled, and said, “I think it has. I think I’ve been useful in someone else’s life. This helps me to justify my existence, I suppose. I feel good about myself.”
Miss Planter paused for a moment, then asked, “Does your existence need justifying, Mr. Owen? Did it ever need it, or do you need to have a reason to exist?”
“I suppose not; however, it feels good to have been useful, or helpful.”
“Can you tell me about this?” she asked. “It might prove interesting, maybe even give me some insight into our other sessions.”
I hesitated, and she saw that. “If you don’t want to share, Mr. Owen, I quite understand.”
“Oh, no, I want to share,” I said, “but… it’s complicated. I’ve got reasons to keep this story to myself.”
“I hope you haven’t done anything illegal or underhanded,” she said with a laugh.
I laughed along, but she also saw something with my nervous laughter.
“You didn’t, did you?” she asked.
“I… well, I did something good, but maybe perhaps not in the best way possible.”
“Now I’m really curious,” she said. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, but this is your money you’re burning, not mine.”
I sat for a moment, then replied, “Miss Planter, it’s… I think I may have saved a marriage.”
We received our plates from the waitress, and Miss Planter began eating, as though my talking wasn’t anything at all to her. This of course was an act; she wasn’t fooling me any more than I was fooling her.
“You’re talking about your old school love, of Mrs. Helen Burke?”
I was like a deer in the headlights. “Yes. Helen Ceraldi-Burke. I think I’ve saved her marriage. Or at least, delayed anything that will make it deteriorate any further.”
“And how is this a good thing?” she asked, as a follow-up.
“Well, as you know, she has children, and if there’s a marital break-up, who knows how this would affect the kids.”
Miss Planter stopped eating and looked up at me. “So this isn’t all about Mr. and Mrs. Burke? It’s about the kids?”
I stopped and stammered for a moment, then said, “No, it’s about Helen, too. I still have feelings for her, although they’ve changed, mutated over the years. Perhaps I’ve changed, I hope.”
“I would think the only feeling you would have for her would be anger, after her previous treatment of you,” she said, looking for my motivation.
“Yes,” I agreed, “there was great anger, for many years. There was also great hurt. But much of that has faded, now. It’s more than just me and Helen. It’s a bit difficult to explain.”
“You’re seeing your old girlfriend after many years. Did you ever hold out any hope that she might have a divorce and come running back into your arms, so you could be the comforting hero and fix everything that was wrong?”
Suddenly I felt anger, and I guess it showed, because Miss Planter sat up straighter, and said, “I really must have struck a nerve!”
I got up from the booth and said, “I’ll be right back,” and headed for the men’s room. I pushed the door open and went to the sink and washed my face, two or three times with soap and cold water. Grabbing for paper towels, I looked up into the mirror, eye to eye with myself. “Boy, she really got under your skin, didn’t she? What the heck’s wrong with you; she’s just doing her job! Get back in there before she thinks something’s wrong.”
I then looked under the stalls for feet, but they were all empty, thank goodness. People shouldn’t have to listen to me talking to myself.
I wandered back into the dining area, where Miss Planter was sitting, waiting for me. “Your dinner’s getting cold, Mr. Owen. Aren’t you going to eat?”
“Yes. I’m hungry, remember?” and grinned. She smiled back. We ate in silence for a few minutes, then I said, “Miss Planter, in our sessions, are you bound by any oaths, say, like an oath of silence?”
“Yes, there’s this patient/doctor confidentiality issue, but you must bear in mind, I’m not a doctor. I’m just a counselor.”
“Is there a patient/counselor confidentiality oath?”
“It’s not an oath, but there is a code for that, yes.”
“What does it consist of?” I asked.
“If you think it would help in our sessions for you to tell me matters of great importance, then I am bound by confidentiality not to disclose it to others,” she said, “Unless of course you plan to do something drastic, like kill somebody or do yourself harm.”
“I don’t plan on doing either of those things, Miss Planter.”
“I didn’t think so, Mr. Owen,” and she smiled.
We ate in silence again, until I said, “I don’t like keeping you in the dark, Miss Planter.”
“That’s good, because I don’t like being in the dark, Mr. Owen,” she replied with a smile.
“Okay, I’ll start with the question you asked earlier. Yes, for years I hoped that Helen would come back to me. I prayed to God to bring her back. Of course this would go against all His rules for family and involve a divorce on her part, but I didn’t care. I just wanted the pain to stop.”
Miss Planter just looked at me. She stopped chewing her salad and was focused; that was a good sign. At least she was listening, and seemed to understand.
“I hope this doesn’t upset you, Miss Planter.”
“No, this doesn’t upset me, Mr. Owen. This sounds quite within the realm of normalcy.”
“I’m glad you think I’m normal, because there’s more.”
And with that stated, we finished our meal. Miss Planter was a picky eater, or else was watching her figure because she really didn’t eat very much. And she had a fine figure.
I walked slowly with Miss Planter back to the medical building, rode up the elevator with her and made sure she got to her office. Phyllis was already back, and I could see a little gleam in her eye watching us. I don’t like kids sizing me up; it’s not very comfortable.
Once in the office, Miss Planter said, “I’m curious as to how you managed to save a marriage all b
y yourself, Mr. Owen. Did you sit them down and have a little heart-to-heart discussion?”
“Yes. Well, no. Not with both of them, at least. I did have a little talk with her husband.”
“Indeed? What did you say to him?”
“I reminded him of his past with his wife and with the children, who he really loves, by the way, and …. then I threatened to tell his children about his mistress.”
Miss Planter froze, standing behind her desk next to her chair. “You did what?” she said.
“I said if he didn’t call it off between him and Susan Lovely, I would tell the kids that their daddy was having an affair and were likely to get a new mother, after their dad divorced their real one.”
“Oh… my… God,” she said while slowly sitting down. She stared up at me, since I hadn’t sat down yet. Her mouth was open; I’d laugh, but this was a time of honesty for me, and a time of shock for her. “You blackmailed him!”
“Yes…,” I said, “…and no. He didn’t know it was me. I was wearing a disguise.”
“Whaaaat?” was all she could get out.
“That’s right. I dressed up like a doctor and went to see him at the hospital, and met with him and locked him in a room where we had a discussion, and I let him know that he was suspected of having an affair with Susan Lovely, and that I threatened to tell his kids if he didn’t stop the whole affair. And he agreed.”
“And he didn’t know who you were?”
“That’s right.”
“Didn’t anybody else see you, in that disguise?” she asked, then again, “You dressed like a doctor?” as though that were the last thing on earth anybody should dress as.
“No, nobody saw me. I took steps to remain hidden. We had to be discreet.”
“We?”
Oops.
“There were more of you?” she pressed.
“Yes. I had accomplices. But we’re not a gang or cult or anything. We’re just friends who don’t want to see a family split up.”
“I-I-I…,” Miss Planter was on information overload.
“I’m sorry to tell you so much at one time, Miss Planter. I should have just told you a little bit, maybe a little bit at a time.”
The Lovely Chocolate Mob Page 13
