Confabulation (The Department)

by Ronald Thomas

"It’s a very important meeting, sir."

  "I’ll ignore the implied triviality of my meeting for now and just note that I was forced to take this meeting and I think I deserve some attention, since it was this department’s idea in the first place."

  He returned to his chair before she could answer his comments. He waited there for another half-hour before Ms. Gentry arrived. He stood from his chair and followed her into her office. The receptionist stood as he approached, but he didn’t stop. "She can see me now."

  He took a seat in one of the slightly more comfortable chairs in her office. He was surprised that the office of the senior vice president of human resources had such a small and uncomfortable office. Henry watched as Ms. Gentry filed some folders, and searched through the cabinet, flipping through other folders. He looked at his watch and watched eleven o’clock pass by. "Can we please get to this? I’ve already lost my entire morning."

  She looked up briefly and then back down at a folder she had retrieved. "Mr. Adamson. It says here that you’ve missed some work time recently, for no stated reason. Your supervisor also indicates that you’ve exhibited some irrational behavior."

  The one common trait shared by this company and the government, Henry thought, was the reliance on red tape and procedure to solve any problem. Once a report was made, a series of events had to take place, whether or not they fit the specific situation being dealt with. Henry never cared much for people who claimed to have a "one size fits all solution" to anything. That attitude could be traced back to an unfortunate mishap involving one of his aunts, a mis-advertised dress, and a vigorous game of tag. He never forgot that site, or his distaste for the label that he stared at while averting his eyes.

  "Look. I had a bad couple of days, but I’m fine. I would be doing my work right now, if I weren’t stuck here talking about how I haven’t been at my desk enough."

  "It’s our policy to investigate these reports to make sure that our workers don’t have problems that affect their job."

  "I’m telling you, I’m fine. I’ll get my work done, and I won’t leave in the middle of the day anymore." He stood from his chair.

  "Mr. Adamson, you’re supervisor wishes to file a reprimand in your record, which will impact your career here." She waited for Henry to sit. "Now, if you would be willing to see a counselor, we could expunge that from your record."

  "You’re threatening me so that I’ll seek help? You’re trying to force me to do something to help myself?"

  "Mr. Adamson, these are our policies. I know they may seem arbitrary in this case, and I’m sorry. But, those are your options." She may have said that she was sorry, but her position behind the large desk and her referral to policy, gave Henry the opinion that she, like so many others, enjoyed the power and absolution that hiding behind policy and procedure gave them.

  "Those are my options. I have a bad week at work and my options are to seek help I don’t want, or have my boss wreck my career. That’s great." Henry stepped toward the door. "I’ll get back to you today to let you know my decision, but trust me, I’ll be complaining to anyone who will listen about this situation." He opened the door and stepped out into the hall. "By the way, thank you for wasting hours of my time for this. I’m glad that the company cares so much for its employees that I had to wait over an hour for my required meeting."

  The walk back to his office was a long one. First, because he was tired and didn’t walk quickly. Second, because he stopped often to get water or a soda, since he had little desire to see Dennis after what he heard. When he arrived back at his office, he closed the door immediately. After checking his messages and the local news, he dialed Kelly’s office number.

  "Hello, Kelly Adamson." Henry always enjoyed the musical way that she answered her phone at work.

  "Hi, honey. How’s your day going?"

  "Oh, hi, Henry. It’s going okay, mainly paperwork on some old cases. How about you?"

  "Mostly meetings, pretty boring actually."

  "So, why’d you call?"

  "No reason, just wanted to see how you were doing."

  "You don’t need to keep checking on me, remember. I’m fine. I’ll see you tonight, okay?"

  "Sure. Bye. Love you."

  "Love you too, bye."

  Henry hung up the phone, and slid his finger slowly down the receiver, before returning to his work. After a couple of hours, mostly filled with answering e-mail and writing memos, he nodded off for several minutes. When he snapped to attention, he left his office to get some coffee. He walked passed Dennis’ office without comment.

  He threw the stirrers in the trash and walked back to his office. "What the hell is wrong with me?" He slammed the door to his office. He sat down and looked at the phone number for the Employee Assistance Office that stared at him from the yellow piece of paper stuck to his monitor. He looked to his left, peering through the wall to where Dennis sat. "I’ve got to do something."

  He picked up the phone and dialed. "Hello, Ms. Gentry. This is Henry Adamson. I’m going to call the EAO and schedule counseling. Have a nice day." He hung up the phone before a reply could follow.

  After scheduling time with a counselor, Henry asked if he could go home early. He was sure that Dennis would allow it, since by contacting the EAO he had removed himself from the possibility of most action. Henry was lucky enough to have arranged an appointment late that afternoon with a psychologist.

  After shoveling down an extra-long hot-dog, and cheese covered tater-tots, he drove to Dr. Davy’s office. He was directed to Dr. Davy’s office down a pleasant, well-appointed hallway. The office was well lit, but not bright due to the dark woods and plush materials that populated the room. He sat in a comfortable chair, and the cushion combined with the lack of voices reminded him of the lack of sleep he had been dealing with for the past few days. Dr. Davy arrived shortly after he had settled in. She sat in a chair facing Henry, and leaned forward.

  "So, do you prefer Henry, or Mr. Adamson?"

  "Henry’s fine." He fidgeted in the chair, trying to obtain a comfortable position that didn’t make him want to fall asleep.

  "Okay, Henry. So, why are you here today?" He voice was soft but forceful, and Henry felt that if in the future he would willingly seek therapy, he would start here.

  "You should probably ask my boss about that." Henry knew he needed help, but he still found it difficult to accept that he would be required to go to counseling for a week of strange behavior. He had seen other employees call in sick for several days and not be asked to go to a psychologist or bring in a doctor’s note.

  "You don’t think you need to be here?"

  Despite his admiration for the doctor, he didn’t like the condescension inherent in the question. He also didn’t enjoy being reminded of the lack of control he had over the situation. "I have to be here."

  "You don’t have to do anything, Henry."

  "Tell that to the company. If I don’t attend these sessions, I get a reprimand in my file that would hurt both my bonus and promotion potential. That’s sounds like a pretty obvious threat to me."

  "Henry, if you don’t want to be here, I’m not sure how I can help you. Do you think you need any help? You said you had a difficult week."

  The sessions were required, that much was certain. Better to play along with this one, he thought, than risk being given to some hillbilly bigot that went into psychology because the other four careers he had tried hadn’t worked out. He wondered for a moment where that image came from, and then recalled going to the counseling center to support a friend of his and hearing one of the student workers talk about how he hated having to deal with homosexuals. "They’re just like pedophiles," the would-be psychologist had stated.

  He knew that finding a therapist he felt comfortable with wasn’t a guarantee and he didn’t want to give up a good one, even if he was being forced to see her. "Yeah, I’ve had a rough week. I’m not sleeping well, and so I’ve been edgy and it’s been hard to concentrate."

&n
bsp; "Well, let’s focus on that for now, and not on work. Have you been under any stress?"

  "Not really. Work has been pretty much the same as always, and I haven’t received any comments that my work has suffered. I don’t know. I’ve just been worried lately."

  "Worried about what?"

  Henry relaxed in the soft chair, and could feel his eyelids growing heavy. He fought off sleep, but it was becoming more difficult to concentrate. "I’ve been scared that my wife is in danger."

  "Danger? What kind of danger?"

  He leaned back further into the chair. "I think someone might hurt her."

  "Why do you think that?"

  "I’ve been…" Henry didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have proof. Didn’t want to seem actually crazy and not be able to help Kelly.

  "Henry, you were going to say something."

  He turned his head to face Dr. Davy. "Oh, I was just going to say that I’ve been sleeping less lately, and I think it’s just making me edgy. My wife has been working later hours lately, and I worry about her being out at night, alone."

  "Have you been worrying more now that she is spending more time at work?"

  Henry could see where this was going, and saw an opportunity to make the counselor feel like the sessions were productive. "I suppose. It’s tough. She used to work shorter hours, and she was usually home when I go there. Since she moved up in her firm, she’s been working longer hours, and I get home to an empty house more often."

  "Other than being scared for her, do you feel anything else?"

  "You mean like jealousy? No. She deserves what she’s got at her job. We’re doing better money-wise now, and she’s happy. I just wish I had gotten that promotion a couple of months ago. Then we’d be doing great."

  Henry and Dr. Davy talked for another half-hour about his feelings concerning Kelly’s new job. He could tell that the conversation was moving along well, and he held back enough so that Dr. Davy would believe that he didn’t want to believe he was jealous. After the session was done, she shook his hand, and he scheduled a return visit for a week later.

  It was four o’clock when he left, and he called Dennis to say he wouldn’t be coming back. Dennis sounded very understanding, and Henry thought to himself that the situation with the counselor might turn out to give him the excuse he needed, and an hour’s respite from the voice that accompanied him.

  Dinner that night was a fiasco. He kept thinking about what he remembered from all those years ago in New York. Wondered how long they’d been scheming. Couldn’t figure out what kind of plan they had. He kept asking Kelly to repeat herself, and after several times, she became annoyed and went off to take a bath and read a book.

  Being along and angry led him to have a few beers. He felt an odd sense of accomplishment, as he was able to control the feeling of intoxication through increased intake. With each drink he felt more drunk, and more in control of his life. After a couple of six-packs, he was completely inebriated, and no longer troubled by worries.

  Sleep came easy that night. He slept through the alarm, and Kelly getting ready for work. He rolled over and groaned at the sight of large red numbers mocking him for being an hour late before he even woke up. He reached for the phone and dialed Dennis.

  "Dennis Jacobson."

  "Hi, Dennis. This is Henry; I’m feeling a little out of it this morning, so I’ll be in later."

  "Don’t worry about it, Henry. If you’re sick, just stay home. We’ve got everything under control here."

  "Well, okay. Thanks. See ya Monday."

  "Alrighty. Take care."

  Dennis’ changed attitude, though forced, helped. He was sure he’d be replaceable soon if he wasn’t careful, but that was a worry he didn’t have time for. "Ah, it’s just one day." He showered, had breakfast, and was reading the paper when the doorbell rang.

  Two men in suits greeted him as he opened the door in his undershirt and knit shorts. “Can I help you guys?”

  “Sir, did you call about a roofing problem?”

  He looked at the two men. They didn’t look like roofers. He looked down the street and didn’t see any truck. “No. Not me.”

  He shut the door. Shook his head at the number of scams that came out of the woodwork in the months following a hail storm.

  Henry’s head and stomach suddenly squeezed. Henry ran to the bathroom. His stomach tightened and convulsed several times. Breakfast and last night’s dinner filled the bowl. When that as done, continued heaving burned as the alcohol remaining in his stomach mixed with the acid and scorched his damaged throat. He continued to heave long after food and liquid were no longer available.

  As he vomited, his anger returned. A rage built as he realized Kelly was gone and he had no idea where she was. Only that she was probably close to those people who were out to get her. Once his stomach calmed enough for Henry to get up, he rushed to the closet, pulled on jeans and a t-shirt and grabbed his keys. "Nothing’s going to happen to her today."

  He left the house, and drove to Kelly’s office. He sat in his car for the remainder of the day, waiting to see if anything strange occurred. When he saw her exit the parking garage, he left, happy that another day had passed and that he would see her again that night.

  CHAPTER 3

  Carolyn Hansford smirked as Douglas rolled his eyes at her attire. Until recently they worked at the same local paper. He was a reporter, she worked trying to sell ads for a paper that was gasping for air.

  “Did you just roll out of bed and head over here?”

  “Hey, these are yoga pants, for your information. Not pajamas.”

  “Still, not exactly office attire. Maybe I should take more of your advice.”

  "I wish you would. I hate to see you wasting your time and your life when you could afford to do what would really make you happy."

  "Hey, I love my job." Douglas looked away.

  "I know you do. And you're a damned good reporter too, but, it’s not what you would do if you didn't need a paycheck."

  "Well, maybe not, but I'm not wasting my life."

  Carolyn rolled her eyes. "You know I was exaggerating. Stop being so sensitive."

  Douglas smiled with his face hidden from Carolyn. "Don't tell me how to feel. I can feel hurt if I want to."

  "Well, then I'm sorry, you big baby."

  He turned back and laughed. "I just can't pull off the emotional blackmail, can I?"

  "No, you're really bad at it."

  She set her purse down and walked over to the counter to place her order. Got the biggest iced coffee they sold, only ten ice cubes. She hated hot coffee, but she didn’t want watered down coffee either. Slid her card across to the girl who looked too young to drive and went back.

  She spent the next hour catching up with her old friend, trying to coax him into some investments that she was sure would make him enough money to quit the paper and write the books he longed to work on. He refused, as always.

  “One day, Douglas, I’m gonna make you a rich man.”

  “Yeah, yeah. See you later.”

  Carolyn popped open her laptop and checked her stocks. She completed several transactions. Each one she picked as a result of news she had heard that morning. She couldn’t place where she’d heard the tip, or what she’d been doing, but she knew which ones were expected to appreciate.

  She logged out of her account. With the assurance that her requests would be fulfilled within eight minutes, she gathered her bags as her computer shut itself down, and she headed for the bathroom one last time before beginning the drive home. She stopped as two women in sunglasses stepped aside. She thought the indoor shades were odd, but figured that’s what people did after yet another surgery to look young.

  She entered the bathroom and quickly checked her appearance in the mirror as usual. As she fixed the stray pieces of hair that framed her face and straightened the collar of her silk blouse, she noticed a fog forming in front of her. She reached out to the mirror, but the fog was forming in he
r vision, not on the glass.

  She rubbed her eyes, but when she opened them, her vision was even still blurry, and filled with lines and sparkles. Like someone was rubbing her eyes from the inside. She began to sway as the blurry vision, combined with the dull hum in her inner ear that had started weeks ago, hindered her balance.

  She fell to the floor.

  Pain shot up her back, and she pawed for the sink to pull her up. After several failed attempts to locate the porcelain, she let her arms fall to her sides and she began to cry. "What is going on?" She rubbed her eyes again, but there was still no relief. "What is this?"

  Carolyn lunged forward, again hoping to hit something. As she lost her balance, the fog cleared and she saw the floor just before her cheek slammed into it. "Ouch." She rubbed her cheek and frowned at the thought of the impending bruise. She looked around, but could see no sign of anyone even having been there. She rose slowly to her feet and stepped outside. She didn’t see anyone, or hear any footsteps. "What on Earth happened?"

  She walked back to her office and sat for several minutes to see if the vision problem occurred again. After half an hour, she decided it wouldn’t return. She grabbed her keys from the desktop, stood, and grabbed her bag. After a step toward the door, she paused and reached for her business card file. She flipped through to the "D’s" and pulled out the card of Dr. Aaronson. "I’ll definitely be seeing you soon."

  CHAPTER 4

  Work was easy for Henry since he started his therapy. The requests were less frequent, and easier. Dennis seldom cared if he left early, and his deadlines were never less than two weeks out. He thought to himself that if had he known it would be like this, he would have faked a breakdown years before.

  At ten-thirty, he left his office for the beginning of his long lunch break. He walked to his car unmolested and drove away, toward Kelly’s office. "We’ll see if there’s been any accident today."

  He pulled into visitor parking, hopped on the external elevator, and waited until he reached the top floor. The doors opened and he stepped out. "Hello, Grace. Is Kelly around?"