by T. K. Chapin
www.tkchapin.com
Copyright © 2015 T.K. Chapin All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.
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Version: 11.12.2015
ISBN:
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Dedicated to my loving wife.
For all the years she has put up with me
And many more to come.
CHAPTER 1
With a trembling hand, I set the ink pen down on the desk in my study. My eyes lifted to the ceiling as I said a quiet but sincere prayer to the Lord. I prayed for peace I couldn’t find, and comfort I couldn’t hold. My prayers, while sincere, were lacking a certain depth. My once deep and meaningful conversations with my Creator had transformed into a ‘To Do’ list for God. I was writing a will, which terrified me, so I went to the one resource I knew that was able to help—God. My walk with the Lord had been strong in my younger years while I raised a family, but it had dwindled after my daughter had started her own life. It was a slow fade, with no exact date or time for when it all began sliding downhill, but I sensed that something wasn’t right along the way.
Picking up the pen again, I sighed as I continued to string together the words that I knew would be read aloud when I was gone from this world. It was an unsettling thought, and it troubled me greatly to imagine a day when I wasn’t alive.
“Rick,” my wife, Susan, said as she opened the door to my study. She was a welcomed and pleasant interruption from the task at hand. I looked over at her.
“Yes, dear?” I asked, hoping it was time to leave.
“I’ve packed our bags and loaded them into the car. We can go whenever you’re ready.” Watching her, I saw her eyes fall to my desk and to the pen in my hand. “What are you doing?” she inquired as she stepped closer to me.
I swept a hand over the will and said, “Just some paperwork.”
She nodded, and her eyes saw my finished slice of watermelon sitting on the plate on my desk. She beamed as she reminisced. “Do you remember that delightful afternoon we had down by the lake? We’d found the perfect watermelon at the store to go along with our picnic.”
I let myself join her in the reflection back to our youth. It was a time before we had our daughter, Bethany, back before we had any responsibilities in life. So many years ago, yet so easy to recall in my mind. I smiled as I looked over at her, and said, “I could almost taste that watermelon now.”
Her smile softened as she looked out the window behind me at the falling rain outside. She let out a long breath and said, “I’ll be downstairs waiting for you to finish up.”
She headed for the door.
“I’m just going to wrap up here and then we can head out. Did you pack my blood pressure medicine?”
Stopping at the door, she looked back at me. Those eyes. They were beautiful. Even after thirty years of marriage, they were still able to touch the depths of my soul with such ease and precision. “I always do.”
A smile crept at the corner of my lips as I returned to writing. Susan knew me better than anyone else on the planet. She even knew me better than I knew myself. I still wondered how I was able to keep a secret from her, though. Maybe it was because the thought of her finding out that our savings had all but vanished terrified me more than even the worst of the fires I had seen in all my years as a firefighter. She was my other half, my soul mate, and my best friend. If she were to find out the truth, I was certain she would leave me. I couldn’t take that. I loved her, I needed her, and life without Susan wasn’t a life worth having.
As I wrote down into words that my cousin Jeffery back in Arkansas would be getting the cigar boxes and baseball cards after I pass onto glory, I could feel my anxiety rising. I can’t do this right now, I thought to myself, closing my eyes for a moment.
Opening up the desk drawer, I set the will inside and shut it. There’s plenty of time to write a will, I thought to myself as I stood up. I don’t care if Captain Taylor feels that all of us at the station need to have one. I’m only fifty-three. Turning off the light as I left the room, I headed downstairs.
We got into the car outside and I turned the key over. Glancing over at Susan, I could tell something was off about her.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, looking at her with raised eyebrows. Seeing her gag and cover her mouth, I said, “Go inside to the bathroom, dear.”
She nodded and kept her mouth covered as she flung open the car door and booked it back up the driveway toward the house. Worried, I kept my eyes on her as I watched her open the door and rush inside.
While waiting for her to return, I thought about cancelling the trip altogether. Her lying in a hotel bed while feeling sick didn’t sound like a good time for her. When Susan got back into the car, I asked, “Want to just cancel the trip and stay home?”
She shook her head as she dug into her purse for something. Pulling out a pack of gum, she took a stick out and popped it into her mouth. “I’ll be okay, Rick. Let’s go.”
“You sure?” I asked, concerned.
She nodded and set her purse on the floor of the car, just beneath her seat. “Just get driving so we can get there before it gets too late. I want to eat at that restaurant inside the hotel, and they only have the discounted prime rib meal until six.”
“What are you? Pregnant? You just yakked!” I shook my head, smiling. “How on earth could you think of food right now?”
She laughed. “I haven’t been able to get pregnant in at least twenty years . . . you know that, Rick. I just love my prime rib!” She looked out the window. “Besides, I feel better now.”
“All right. If you say so!”
I put the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway. She always had an appetite when it came to prime rib. I was pretty confident that even on her deathbed she’d be willing to get up if it meant she would get to eat prime rib.
“How much are you thinking?” she asked as we came up on our exit on the freeway.
“The usual,” I replied.
“Two hundred?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I replied.
“Okay.”
We always agreed on a set amount to spend at the casino before we got there. There wasn’t any pride in my gambling. I knew it wasn’t exactly the right thing to be doing as a born-again Christian, but I enjoyed it. I wrote the time off as entertainment. It was a date night for us, I’d tell myself. It builds our relationship, I’d insist to myself. Some people went to movies, some had expensive cars, and we had the casino.
Arriving at our hotel room on the fourth floor of the North Bend Casino and Resort, I set our bags down on the floor, near the corner of the room. The heater suddenly kicked on, and I looked over to see Susan tinkering with the thermostat.
“It’s fine in here, don’t turn it on,” I said, going over toward her.
“It’s freezing!” she insisted.
“Compared to what?” I asked. “We don’t keep the thermostat higher than 70 degrees at home.”
“It’s a vacation, Rick. You don’t have to worry about the bill here.” She smiled as she headed into the bathroom. “You ready to go eat?” she shouted from behind the door.
I lay down on the bed and kicked my shoes off, expecting her to take a while getting ready. I grabbed the remote and called back to her, “Yeah, we can go whenever.” Turning on the TV, I began to endlessly flip through the channels.
Not even five minutes later, she came out of the bathroom and was ready to go. “Aren’t we leaving?” she asked.
“Yeah. I didn’t know how long it was going to take you, dear.” Turning my eyes back to the TV, I shut it off and got up from the bed.
Out in the hallway, Susan’s eyes filled with excitement as we headed toward the elevators. I grabbed her hand and pulled her close to me. As we walked, I sang softly into her ear, “Have I told you lately that I love you?” Susan began to hum along with me.
Susan was my only true love, the mother of our child, and my best friend. Everything in the world could fall apart without affecting me, but if I didn’t have her, I’d have nothing.
After dinner, as we were going back into our room, Susan grabbed her stomach with one hand and hit a wall with the other to hold herself up. “Ahhh . . .” She moaned as she bent over.
“Your stomach? I thought you felt better. Maybe eating wasn’t such a good idea.”
“Quit talking about it and help me, please . . .” she whimpered as she leaned into the wall. My steps shuffled over to her, and I grabbed her arm to help her to the bed. Suddenly, she breathed a few quick breaths and then ran into the bathroom. Cringing at the sounds on the other side of the bathroom door, I leaned against the door and waited a few moments for her to come out. Then, I lay down on the bed and turned on the TV.
Sometime later—it’s hard to say exactly when—Susan came out of the bathroom. She looked like death as she wobbled over to the bed and crash landed face-first into a pillow. Her hair was frazzled and her eyes drooped. She looked exhausted.
“You need anything?” I asked.
She stayed silent, which was rare. I knew whatever she had going on was bad.
I got up from the bed and went over to our bags on the floor. Opening up the duffle bag, I grabbed her favorite blanket she’d had for nearly a decade and covered her up. Lying back down on my side of the bed, I continued to watch the 1984 World Series on the classic sports channel.
Susan raised her face up from the pillow and pushed back a few strands of hair from her eyes. “Just go, dear,” she said, before collapsing her head back into the pillow.
“What?”
“Just go play,” she said in a muffled voice from the pillow. “I’m not going to be playing tonight, honey. I’m sorry.”
I turned off the TV and sat up, turning toward her. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well, dear. I want to stay here with you in case you need anything. I don’t need to play.”
“Go play. I want to lie in silence and rest,” she replied.
“Okay.” Getting off the bed, I grabbed a room key from the desk below the TV and came around to her side of the bed. Bending my knees slightly, I pulled her mess of hair back behind her ear and kissed her cheek.
“Win big,” she said in a sickly tone, trying to sound enthused.
I smiled. Brushing my fingers through her hair, I asked, “Do you want a soda or anything before I leave?”
She looked at me with one eye closed. “That’d be great, dear.”
I nodded. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”
Returning a few minutes later, I poured her a cup of the lemon-lime soda I got from the vending machine down the hall and put a straw in it. I set it next to her on the night stand.
“Dear . . .” I said in a soft whisper to see if she was awake.
No response. She was already out cold.
I bent over the bed and kissed her forehead once more. “I love you,” I said. Tip-toeing as quietly as possible, I headed out of the room and down the hallway to the elevators.
CHAPTER 2
Taking a long drink of my soda, I continued my efforts to read the kid sitting across from me. He was a tough one to figure out. He wasn’t like the old guy to my left in the ten-gallon cowboy hat that only bet when he had a good hand. There was also no similarity between him and the punk rocker guy to my right, who had more piercings in his face than I thought was humanly possible. The punk would bluff when he got in too deep, and he had an easy tell that I picked up on early. He’d sniff every time he was bluffing. This kid, on the other hand, had no tells that I could pick up on. He showed zero emotion. I liked to think that I’d gotten pretty good at reading people over the years, but he had been at this table with me for a while and I still couldn’t figure him out. All the kid would do is pop an earbud in and out of his ear when someone would talk to him.
Glancing at my cards once more—a king and a ten—I narrowed my eyes on the kid. Our eyes met for a moment, but he looked away. My eyes fell on the three cards from the flop that was already on the table: ace of hearts, ten of clubs, eight of diamonds.
“What’s your name, kid?” I asked.
“Robert,” he replied.
“What you listening to, Robert?” I asked.
He furrowed his eyebrows. “Jazz,” he said curtly.
Our dealer, Joe, said, “Get on with the game. You guys can chat later.”
I checked.
“Raise,” the kid said, tossing in fifty dollars’ worth of poker chips toward the middle of the table. The dealer pulled the chips into the middle of the table and I looked over at Robert. He remained as cold as ice, with no tells.
His fifty dollar raise was going to put me all-in. My night would be over if I lost this hand. My eyes shifted to my few remaining poker chips that sat on the table next to me.
I rubbed the back of my neck as the decision to go all-in plagued my mind. It was quite early into my evening, and if I lost it all in one hand, I’d be forced to end my casino venture quite early. I glanced at my watch. It was only eight o’clock. I looked over at the kid as he seemed to get lost in his music once again. Staring at the three cards that were already on the table, I thought back to thirty or so minutes ago when the kid bluffed me.
The last time we ended up head-to-head, I folded in the fear that he had something better than I did. The kid was weird and revealed his hand instead of mucking. He had a high card of a jack, nothing else. I had folded two pairs, and I would have won. He’d show his cards whether he had a hand or not—that tactic kept me guessing each and every hand he’d play.
“Call,” I replied, coming out of my thoughts. Pushing my chair out, I stood up and crossed my arms. He flipped over an ace and a queen. He wasn’t bluffing this time. He had the high pair with his ace matching the ace on the flop. My heart began to pound inside my chest. It was so strong I could feel it in my ears. My anxiety climbed and my breath became short. Waiting for the last two cards—the turn and the river—to fall was pure torture.
The turn came: two of clubs.
The river came: ace of diamonds.
That was it—I was broke. Reaching across the table, I shook his hand and said, “Well done, kid.”
“You played some good poker,” he replied, popping his earbud out as we shook hands. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Rick, but everyone around here knows me as Blaze.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Why Blaze?” he asked. “You a legend or something?”
“No legend. I’m a firefighter. Down in Spokane,” I replied.
“Right on. Well, good luck. Hope we cross paths again.”
“Good luck to you,” I said, pushing in my chair to leave.
Grabbing my cup of soda from the table, I turned and began to leave the casino floor, heading back toward the hotel lobby. As I walked, I kept my eyes glued to the funky floral carpet design, trying to keep my mind occupied by going over the pattern I had seen so many times before. Then it happened, like it always did: the lights of the slot machines danced in my peripherals, and the sounds of them gnawed at my consciousness.
I wanted to stay. I wanted to play longer. I needed to.
I checked the time on my watch. It was eight thirty, far too early to call it a night. Susan’s already asleep, and I’m not going to sleep well, I told myself as I slowed my pace to a stop. Lifting my eyes up from the carpet, I saw it, like it was put there just for me.
The ATM.
Just a little longer to play, I told myself. What’s the point of coming up to a casino for th
e weekend if you aren’t going to have fun? Bills are paid. My daughter is well-off enough to take care of herself and the grandkids. The fire station’s pension plan is more than enough for retirement. What’s the hurt to spend a little more? I thought of Susan. What would she think?
My conscience reminded me that she told me to play.
I looked back at the ATM.
Just a little more, my conscience urged me on.
Going over to the ATM, I pulled out my wallet and slid out the debit card—not the one to our regular checking account. I made sure it was the one tied to our savings account over at the Credit Union. I slid it through the card reader.
The screen read, Balance: $11,000.
I sighed as I went through the menus and thought about the last three years. I’ve wasted almost seventy thousand dollars on poker at this blasted casino. Mostly competitions, but each time I played, I was filled with regret. It was never enough to stop me, though.
This was my soul crushing secret. I, Rick Alderman, was addicted to gambling. I had singlehandedly cut our savings and my inheritance by more than half because of my inability to tell myself No.
If Susan knew the truth, there was no doubt in my mind that it’d ruin our relationship—our whole marriage. She adored me and thought I was incapable of wrongdoing . . . well, outside of leaving my socks turned inside-out and my boots on the carpet. After thirty years of marriage, with its ups and downs, blessings and failures, this would be the one thing we couldn’t bounce back from, and I knew it. But even knowing that didn’t stop me. I justified my sin. After all, I had worked for a portion of that money, and the remainder was from my inheritance.
The ATM did its part and spat out the five hundred dollars I told it to. This time I’ll win, I thought to myself as I turned and headed back to the same poker table. Another way I justified my behavior was by thinking that if I could get on a good winning streak, I could earn all that money back and she’d never have to know. I would never have to break her heart.
