A Shadow of Death in The Woods

by Albert Sisson

  Ann arrived just a few minutes behind me. I could tell right away that she was very angry. I felt bad because I was abusing our friendship. I was desperate though. The blood was beginning to soak through the towels both on my side and on my left arm. The guy had cut me good but I had the use of my arm and fingers so I figured it was only a flesh wound.

  We went into her office where I apologized profusely. She had me get on the examination table after having me take off my shirt and the towels. There was blood everywhere but doctors are trained for that sight. I am not, so I was impressed.

  She examined me and declared that she was going to have to put staples in my arm and side. To do that she was going to give me some shots of a local anesthetic. She said it might sting. That is doctor jargon for it is going to hurt like heck.

  She gave me the shots, which were not as bad as I imagined. She began to clean the cuts and got out her staple gun. Along the way she asked questions on how it happened. I told her in outline form, leaving out Woody’s name but I knew tomorrow with the newspaper she could put it together. Still this gave her deniability.

  She finished her stapling and bandaged me up. She said I was going to need bandages to keep the wounds clean. She suggested that I buy them on my way home. She gave me a prescription for pain pills, saying that when the shots wore off, I might have some pain.

  That was my opening. I told her that I needed a ride home. She frowned but she was in so deep now what was a bit farther? She agreed to drop me off near my house after stopping at a drugstore where she had to go in and do the shopping since I was such a mess. I was shaking like a leaf from the cold without a shirt. At least I had a jacket. My body was afloat in adrenaline and that was probably contributing to my shakes.

  Ann dropped me off where Kid had picked me up. I was able to get back upstairs without alerting Kat. On my way through the kitchen, I had grabbed a garbage bag. I put all of my bloody clothes in the bag. I didn’t want to get my bandages wet so I took a sponge bath and went to bed. I used hot water to help me warm up and it felt great. I was lucky that Kat and I were using separate bedrooms and baths.

  The adrenaline was starting to get out of my system but I felt good. I felt like a school boy who had just pulled off a caper. The anesthetic was starting to wear off. I wanted to get some sleep so I took a pain pill.

  I climbed into bed and amazingly had my first good night’s sleep since the event in The Woods. I don’t know why but I slept soundly.

  Chapter 13

  Can You Say Divorce?

  Things got worse at home after the incident at Woody’s Bar and Grill. I don’t think Kat connected me with the bar fight but she knew something was up. I took care so that she didn’t see my bandages. I was putting my old bandages in a garbage bag and taking them directly to the garbage toter outside. I had to be careful around the kids so that they wouldn’t break open my cuts. She could sense that something was going on.

  The local paper had a field day writing up the bar fight. To read the paper you would have thought it was the opening of World War Three. They said that one exceptionally large man and two smaller men went into Woody’s Bar and Grill where a fight ensued, resulting in all three being hospitalized with permanently damaged knees. The big guy had broken ribs on both sides and a broken arm. One of the three was also stabbed in the melee and he had “significant” facial cuts and broken facial bones.

  The broken arm caught my attention because I knew that I didn’t do it. The last that I remembered was Woody taking the guy down with the wood to the guy’s knee. Woody must have broken the guy’s arm after he went down. Woody probably did it just to be mean so the guy couldn’t use crutches.

  All three were going to require surgery. One needed extensive facial reconstruction. That was the price he paid for bringing a knife to the fight.

  According to the paper, Woody, the owner of the bar, was involved in the fight. Allegedly another man was involved but he left the scene and no one was able to find him or identify him. Woody claimed that he had never seen the guy before but he was thankful that the guy was there to help. Woody further stated that if he knew who it was, he would give the guy a reward. I made a note to call Woody for my reward after things cooled off.

  It was even on local TV. They showed a reporter interviewing Woody. What a hoot. Woody did a great job and made it sound like the three guys came in to make trouble which, in reality, they did.

  Everyone at work was talking about the bar fight but no one connected me with it. I seemed to be skating free.

  I didn’t like the violence, especially Woody’s meanness. Woody lived in a blue collar world that was often seemed cruel and unfair. In the white collar world we believe in decorum, manners, honor, honesty (sometimes) and a form of quasi-civilized behavior. If we want to do a person in, we sneak around and stab the person in the back metaphorically. In Woody’s world it was more violent but arguably more logical. His world may be even more honest and honorable than the white collar world. In his world, you got your head knocked off if you transgressed but your friends were your friends. His world seemed cruder but I am not sure about that. I think, in the final analysis, the big difference was the level of physical violence at least on a person-to-person basis. On an overall basis the white collar world saw more people killed but it was sanctioned by society and was called political action or war. It might be a war on drugs or it might be a war in the Middle East. In both cases people got killed and the outcome was questionable. Except maybe for the war on drugs. That one was a total loss. Since the war was declared on drugs, the drug business had exploded. Drugs are a major export of Mexico and South America and the United States is a major market. Drug violence has gone up exponentially and the drugs keep flowing onto the United States unabated.

  Compared to the world of drugs, Woody’s world was peaceful. Not many people got killed in Woody’s world but heads got knocked about. That is just the way it was. For Woody to keep control of his bar and, in fact, just for him to keep his bar, he had to be violent occasionally. He had to send messages to his crowd that he was in charge in his bar.

  We did the same thing at work in the white collar world; only we didn’t do it physically. We did it with emails, performance reviews and carefully managed rumors. It was just as vicious, just not as physical. We called our world civilized. Maybe.

  In a few days I went back to Ann and had the staples taken out. I went at night after business hours so that I wouldn’t show up on her appointment book. The cuts had healed nicely but I was going to have to keep my sleeves rolled down because there was a good scar on my left arm. Ann said it would fade as it healed more. She had done a neat job closing my cuts. My side would be okay if I kept my shirt on, which was not a problem at the moment. When my marriage got back on track, the scars would be a problem. You can’t really make love with a long sleeve shirt on and if I took my shirt off, I would have to answer questions, which would generate more lies. I was already living in a world of lies. It takes a good memory to keep track of all the lies. Catch-22: If I told Kat the truth about the bar fight, our marriage would be over for sure. On the other hand lying was not good for our marriage.

  In spite of all that was going on, I enjoyed seeing Ann again. At one time before Kat and I were married, Ann and I were a couple. Smart money at the time said that we would be married. We certainly felt we were going in that direction. But for reasons that were not apparent to us, it didn’t work out. Our romance cooled but we remained friends. Good friends, which Kat didn’t like.

  As agreed, I paid Ann in cash. I paid for two office visits, stapling, staple removal, pills and bandages. It was a pretty sum but a good deal. I was lucky to have her agree to keep it off the books. Ann seemed much more relaxed the second visit. Her anger had dissipated, perhaps because it looked like we had gotten away with our subterfuge. Plus we liked each other a lot. I think we have been better friends since our romance ended.

  I finished up another boring day at work, trying t
o avoid my boss. I still had fantasies about him and walls. I was beginning to think about concrete block walls. Maybe I was being immature. Or maybe I just didn’t like him. Or maybe he really was a jerk. Or maybe all three.

  In Woody’s world this would have been resolved quickly with my boss going through a wall head first. Alas, I wasn’t the kind of guy to carry through with such a dream. I was doomed to frustration.

  I was looking forward to getting home and seeing the kids. They were so innocent. It was fun to watch their honest enjoyment of life. I liked to spend time with them while Kat made dinner.

  As I came in the house, no kids came bounding out to meet me. Kat was in the kitchen with a serious, tense look on her face. I asked where the kids were and she said that they were at her parent’s. Furthermore she wanted to talk with me. I knew that wasn’t good news. I have never had a “talk” with Kat that turned out well for me.

  It turned out she didn’t really want to talk. No big surprise. She just wanted to make an announcement. She declared that she wanted a divorce. I can’t say I was surprised but I was disappointed. I still harbored the idea that we could fix our broken marriage. But maybe after The Woods it was impossible because I couldn’t confide in her. It wouldn’t have been fair to her and in the long run it probably wouldn’t have been any better than my lies. I knew she couldn’t handle the idea of me being a murderer.

  I was devastated and had trouble following what she was saying. She had a prepared speech and was going through it as fast as she could to get it over with quickly. I had to ask her to back up and repeat parts of it, which made her angry.

  It was a Tuesday and I pieced together that she wanted me out of the house by Sunday night. She had arranged for her parents to keep the children until then.

  I was numb. I couldn’t imagine life without the kids. It would be easier to give up Kat than it would be not to see the kids. Slowly, I pulled myself together and started thinking about logistics. I was going to have to find a place to live, at least for a while. I would have to find a place to store my motorcycle. I didn’t have a lot of personal stuff. I had clothes, lots of books, tools, a pickup and that was about it. My pickup had a cap on the back, which kept the bed waterproof, and it was lockable so it was sort of secure. I could probably store my clothes and books in the back. I could put the tools in the front and cover them with a cloth; out of sight, out of mind. Tomorrow I would pick up some boxes and start making phone calls to get a place to stay and a place for the motorcycle.

  I felt like I had been hit with a two-by-four but for some reason the kitchen came into sharp focus. I am not sure why. The kitchen was one of my less favorite rooms in the house. I could see the cherry table in the next room up against the wall with the seven-day clock above it. Ever Sunday I wound that clock. It was a throwback to an earlier time before electricity. I am not sure why but I had a fondness for the clock. I would miss winding it.

  I had made the table for Kat for a birthday gift. I had to sneak around to do the cabinetry at a friend’s wood shop. I built it on Saturdays and other spare time. At the time Kat was full of questions on where I was going and what I was doing. I liked the cabinetry but the sneaking around and avoiding the questions was not good. In the end Kat loved the table. I loved it too. You don’t see a lot of solid cherry furniture around unless you are into antiques. I couldn’t help thinking that I should take a good look at the table because it didn’t look like I would be seeing it much again.

  I had a sudden urge to get out of the house. I decided I would go to Woody’s.

  Woody was the same old guy and glad to see me. He asked if I had come to collect my reward and laughed. I had forgotten about the reward. I ordered a beer and a hamburger. Woody usually made huge hamburgers for me, which were delicious. I had him put on two whole slices of onion with ketchup. It wasn’t good for me but it wasn’t like I had a happy life to look forward to.

  I must have looked down in the dumps because Woody asked what was wrong. I gave him the Reader’s Digest version of events and swore him to secrecy.

  He said, “Hey, why don’t you stay at my house. Lorraine and I would love to have you stay there. You can have your old room back.”

  I hadn’t even thought about his place. I was thinking in terms of apartments but I was also thinking that I should take something temporary until I knew what was going to happen. There were too many changes going on in my life to make firm decisions on the spur of the moment. I decided that staying at Woody’s would be a good temporary way to go. Kat didn’t like Woody but what difference would that make? None.

  I knew Woody and Lorraine were living in the house alone since their kids had grown. It was a big house but I didn’t want to move my stuff in there. I would move in just enough to live for a time while I figured things out. I could pack in two parts: one to keep in my truck and the second to take in Woody’s house.

  So I told Woody okay. I asked about rent and he looked at me like I was from Mars and scoffed. He said I could live in their house as long as I wanted and he wouldn’t accept any money. He pointed out he still owed me for helping him out. And while he was on the subject I would eat and drink at his place with no tab. I didn’t want to live there without paying rent or eat and drink in his bar without paying but on the other hand I knew how Woody felt. He wanted a way to pay me back and this was his way of doing it. Good manners dictated that I accept but not overstay my welcome. We made arrangements for me to bring my stuff over Sunday. I went home to start packing. I stopped at a liquor store on my way home and picked up boxes. Liquor boxes are a good size for books. I also picked up a bottle of Lorraine’s favorite vodka.

  When I got home, Kat was not around. That was good because I was in no mood to see her. In fact, it made me think that I should move out before Sunday. I would get more boxes tomorrow and finish packing maybe Thursday night.

  I didn’t get finished packing on Thursday. I finished on Friday night and made arrangements to move my stuff into Woody’s house Saturday around noon when Woody got up. He slept from 3 a. m. to 11 a. m. I managed to get everything in my pickup but it wasn’t easy. I had stuff everywhere, including the passenger seat. That was going to be okay because I had no passenger.

  Lorraine met me at the door with a big hug. I always liked her. I gave her the bottle. She protested that I didn’t have to do that but I knew she would enjoy the vodka. She showed me my room and I moved in. Somehow I was back to where I had started a few years ago. Except for some good memories, I had made no progress. I felt a little depressed. I was back, living in a small room with an uncertain future. The only bright thought was that it couldn’t get much worse.

  Well, it turned out it could get worse, a lot worse.

  Chapter 14

  Old Digs

  As rooms go it was small but most bedrooms are not big enough to live in. I had lived in this room once and it seemed bigger then. It was before I lived in a big house with plenty of room. I guessed that made the difference. It was funny; up until I moved in with Kat I had always lived in a room. Now I was back to a room. It was my old room so it wasn’t really new digs.

  I was lucky though. Besides a nice bed that was almost long enough for me, I had a comfortable chair in which I could sit and read. And I had my own bathroom. I was offered a TV but I turned that down.

  TV, in my opinion, had sunk to a remarkable low. I could remember when commercials were every fifteen minutes and usually one commercial at a commercial break of fifteen to thirty seconds. Now commercials were at any time and grouped to run as long as three to five minutes. I took a small survey one night during prime time and found that one third of the time was taken up with commercials. The programs are filled with mindless blather that only the dull and uneducated can enjoy. The old days of good TV entertainment were mostly gone. To be fair though some of the TV programs from years ago now would seem naive and campy. I think that TV is in a death spiral.

  Ironically some of the most creative and best entertainme
nt on TV is in the commercials. This is hit and miss though so you can’t depend on it. Plus how many times do you want to see a given commercial?

  The other thing that was good on TV was the old movies. Some of the old movies made during the golden years of Hollywood were remarkable in the writing, acting and photography. Movies now days are designed so that they can be resold overseas and consist mainly of spectacular scenes of explosions and mayhem with simple dialog that can be easily dubbed into any language. To a physicist or engineer these scenes are unrealistic. I always wondered how many in the audience thought the scenes physically possible. Probably it would be a scarily large percentage of the audience. The average person is totally ignorant in areas of physics, math and engineering.

  Plus I had a lot of thinking to do and couldn’t spend time staring at old movies. I therefore turned down the offer of a TV. Instead I brought in a few math and physics books to read. I liked solving physics problems and differential equations even if they were simple ones. It helped me relax. Some people like to knit. I like to solve physics and math problems.

  I had a bathroom to myself down the hallway. I parked my shaving kit in there. I guess that was an act of showing possession, sort of like a dog peeing on the mailbox post. It didn’t work though. I didn’t feel at home at all.

  Both Woody and Lorraine insisted that I didn’t have to stay in my room. I was welcome to roam the house, including snacking in the kitchen. This was generous but if you have ever stayed in someone’s house as a guest, you know you always feel like a guest. You are not at home. I was homeless.

  That morning I had taken my motorcycle over to Dragon. He was an old-time biker. Dragon could easily be confused with the tattoo man at the circus. He wasn’t a very big man but he was tough as nails. I had heard stories about fights he had been in. He wasn’t a guy to mess with. He didn’t fight fair. He fought to win. He was exactly the type of guy the Woodward-Simpson family didn’t want me hanging around.