Ken's Tale & the Peterson Dilemma - Desperate Prequels
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kidding me? You don’t actually expect me to believe that, do you? Why did you park over there? Are you hiding something from me, Ken?”
Ken had never felt such a high level of frustration and he understood instantly what happened when people snapped. He had reached that point and was ready to spill his guts, right there in the driveway for Patty and the whole world to hear. Ken heard himself say: “Mother’s Day present, I was trying to keep it a secret. No peaking.” Ken didn’t know where the lie had come from, but he didn’t feel guilty about using it. Patty would lose her mind if she knew what was in the back of his pickup, especially after dragging the cost out of him.
Patty gave him a hard look, but it quickly softened. “There’s ice cream in there,” she said, returning her attention to the bags in the trunk. “Come on, I’ll fix us a pizza.”
Ken was sitting at the kitchen table, feeling like he needed a shower and about twelve hours of sleep. The evening had left him feeling utterly exhausted. Patty explained that the meeting at the Crown Senior Center had been cancelled and rescheduled for next week. She pre-heated the oven and began to fill the cupboards and refrigerator with groceries. Ken watched her and tried to be an attentive listener as he thought about how many close calls the automatic weapons had caused. There had been far too many and Ken had yet to hold a single one of them. He was thinking about where in the garage he’d stash them, until he figured out how to get them up to their lake home, when Patty excused herself to the bathroom.
“I’m going to go hide your gift,” Ken lied. “I’ll be right back.”
Patty nodded and Ken wasted no time. The crate of rifles was heavy and awkward for one man to handle. Ken wrestled it into the garage and quickly stowed it under his cluttered workbench. The garage was his domain and he doubted Patty would stumble across anything before he found a way to move them permanently. He returned for the ammunition and soon was closing the overhead door. The entire operation had lasted just two or three minutes.
Patty was waiting for him at the door. “What’d you buy me?” she asked; her eyes bright with curiosity and a smile perched on her lips. “Wait, don’t tell me; make it a surprise. Here, let me take your jacket.”
Ken slipped out of his jacket and felt the heavy slap of the Smith & Wesson. Patty took it from him before he could think. She walked to the open closet off the foyer and reached for a hanger. Ken began to sweat again.
Patty found the sidearm as she hung the jacket up in the closet.
There would be no pizza that evening and Ken soon found himself on the couch, once again deep inside Patty’s doghouse.
Ken lay awake for many hours, long after he should’ve been sleeping. He felt physically sick and mentally drained. The experience with the guns was something he never wanted to relive. He only hoped that it had all been worth it. The guns had cost him much more than the money and the titanium shavings; they temporarily had cost him the trust of his wife. Ken cursed his luck, knowing better than to think he could ever sneak anything past Patty. He had a lot of work in front of him; regaining that trust was going to cost him, he was sure of it.
At the same time, Patty was lying awake on the bed. What she hadn’t told Ken was that she, herself, had cancelled the meeting; she had a terrible premonition and it had caused her to pull off the road and gather her thoughts. She wondered about that. She also wondered what Ken had really been up to, armed, no less. She found that she really didn’t want to know. He was a good man and she trusted him completely, even if he told her a fib now and then.
They both fell asleep after contemplating their situation. The collapse of the economy could happen at any time and they had still to discuss who they would be inviting to join them at the lake home. They would soon find out that they were far from agreement on the number of people they would allow to head north with them; to ride out the storm.
The Peterson Dilemma