The Luddite Conspiracy Ch. 02

"Paul Keegan was just in my office, and he..." it occurred to Tracy that it wasn't helpful for Cecile to know that Keegan was aware of the linkage problem. It would only stress him out. She saw no reason to add to whatever desperation or anxiety he might currently have. But transferring a little of her own paranoia onto him could be very beneficial indeed, if it were focused in the right manner. "...he was telling me how upset the team is that you opted to miss work at such a transitional and impactful time. He was very unimpressed, you know. Almost angry. I think you need to be careful. Things like this are going to affect my ability to promote you later on." She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Paul Keegan's got a lot of support around her. His opposition could really fuck things up for you, Cecile."

"Oh." He didn't sound concerned, which pissed her off. "Okay. I'll be in on Monday."

"Goddamn it, Cecile!" she barked, "Do you hear what I'm saying? Do you get what it means? What were you even thinking, calling in sick now of all times?"

"I need to talk to you about that."

"Please do!"

Cecile hesitated. "I'm...I've sort of...met someone. Someone special."

Tracy had to catch herself from emitting a manic laugh. Met someone? He'd fucking MET SOMEONE?! All of this, and it's just because he met a girl? "Are you fucking kidding me?" she asked. "You skipped work because you'met someone'? What does that have to do anything? What does that have to do with me?"

"Well, it's...ah.....It's Gina Fenner."

"I don't care if it's...wait." Tracy sat up straight. "What did you say?"

"Neil's wife. I've been...well, sort of seeing her."

She took the phone from her ear and stared at it incredulously for a second, before putting it back. "Are you telling me that you're fucking Neil Fenner's wife?"

"Don't say it that way. And no. I'm not sleeping with her. Not...not yet. I think it might happen."

"Explain."

"Well, Neil disappeared on her. He took a plane south. He didn't tell me where..."

"Murfreesboro," Tracy whispered with sudden realization. "He went to Murfreesboro." But what was he doing there? Why would Neil Fenner suddenly go to Tennessee? What could he learn down there that would do him any good?

"Maybe. He seemed to think it was going to help him...like...emotionally. You know?"

"I see." So that was it. Neil had run off to commiserate with the grieving father. Brilliant. What a glorious waste of time. But then why the empty office? Tracy considered that Neil might have lied to Cecile about his plans, but she felt confident that the man still trusted his young contemporary. Murfreesboro. The fool was cracking up. His little trip would look like guilt, when he was accused later on.

"And he wrote this note to...to Gina...explaining everything. He didn't really tell her before he left. He just wrote it all out...like, everything. And I...I stole the note." He sounded embarrassed.

"When did you do that?"

"When I took him to the airport. He called me, and asked for a lift. I don't know why I took the note. I was going to give it back...I was! That's why I called in Thursday. But when I got to their house, she was so beautiful and so...sad. I've never felt this way about anybody. I almost couldn't breathe. When she hugged me, I felt...I just couldn't do it, Tracy. I couldn't let her see the note." He was starting to sound like a whining child, and Tracy felt the temptation to tell him to grow up. But then he said, "Do you know, she thinks he's having an affair?"

"Really?" She grinned to herself. "How terrible." She thought about her phone call to the clueless housewife, realized that her seeds had taken root, and suppressed a giggle.

"Yeah. Well, I...I guess I encouraged her to believe it. I told some lies, made up some stories. And I've been with her as often as she'll let me be. I know it's awful. I know what it makes me. But she's such an amazing woman..."

His need to defend his actions irritated her. "I'm sure," she rolled her eyes.

"And... I guess, maybe, it's like the job. You know? I can't afford to let opportunity pass me by. I have to fight for what I want, or the world will give me nothing." He took on a stubborn sounding tone. "I think I'm falling in love with her."

"Oh. Okay." She licked her teeth. "What about Neil? When is he due back?"

"His plane back lands in five days. I...I'm sure he'll call, but I'm trying to convince her to get away from the house before that happens."

"Good luck with that. I'm sure he'll call her sooner than you think. And, even if she doesn't get that call, he'll be back eventually. He will find her, and he will talk to her. Then what will you do?"

"I don't know. I'm not really...thinking clearly." Cecile breathed into the phone. "I want your help. And...and if you want to still...see each other...I can do that, too. I don't mind. Just, please, help me."

What else is new, Tracy wondered. Poor little Cecile. Even now, in this, he was calling her for her help. For her advice. "What am I supposed to do about it?" And, no, kid, I don't need any of your pity fucks.

"Tracy, please. Iloveher."

Jesus. What a child. But if Neil and Paul were involved in this chess game, it might be her winning move. If Neil came home to an empty house and a wife who was having an affair, his focus would drift from work long enough to seal his fate. She could push it a little...build on the subtle hints she'd dropped and on the lies Cecile had told. It was dangerous, but it was also preferable to what she'd been considering just a few moments ago. "Don't worry, I'll help. I want you to be happy, after all. Here's what we're going to do, Cecile," she said. "Listen carefully, and do exactly as I say..."

-=-=-

Saturday

Saturday morning was a bitter pill, all side-effect with no cure. Gina sat on the edge of the bed motionless and barely aware. Motion was unnecessary. The weekend, newly birthed, was already lost. There was no Neil. There was no hope.

An unknown amount of time had passed. She couldn't evaluate it and didn't care to. She only knew that when she first opened her eyes the sun was just a kiss, placed someplace below the horizon, and through determination it had come to be suspended in air. It waved another day without her husband in front of her like a clenched fist.

Still, something about the sun appealed to her. Hidden in plain sight, witness to humanity, its faith was never shaken. It believed in the power of heat and light, and it would never be less than that. At least, not in her lifetime. Even the clouds could not dampen its dreams. They were tired tricksters, touring on the same soft scam that they'd played out millenia ago, coughing along and dying young. If Gina could create a world for her own, she thought, it would be a place made of sun. And Neil would join her there.

God, Neil. She still couldn't make herself believe what he'd done.

If he'd done it.

More and more, she found that she couldn't think of a real alternative explanation for his behavior. Certainly not since his disappearance. And what she'd been given...a story of abandonment and affair...seemed more and more realistic with every passing day. He wasn't here. He slipped away without a word, taking his essentials and vanishing. She was really starting to accept and believe that it could have happened. Even with Neil.

So where did that leave her? No way to get real answers, unless he were to magically appear. She had to rely on the carefully worded hints of a woman she'd never met, the half-heard (yet, admittedly alarming) admission of Neil's closest friend, and Cecile's very damning confession. That last one was the worst...the other things she could create excuses for, if she tried hard enough, but Cecile was someone who admired and liked her husband. Someone who had looked up to him. For him to acknowledge the other woman's existence was...

Besides, Neil wasgone. Why in god's name would he be gone, if it weren't all true?

Gina wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. Call a lawyer? Neil hadn't taken anything out of their joint account. He had a personal one, and she assumed he was drawing from that, but it was of little consequence. He was usually so meticulous, so careful. Maybe he had been squandering money away for months. It was also possible that this was a rare rash decision. Maybe that was what he'd needed, in order to finally live with Christi's loss: maybe he'd had to become someone else.

In spite of everything, Gina hoped her husband would finally find some sort of peace there.

In her entire life she'd never felt more directionless. In some ways, of course, the loss hadn't become real yet. There'd been no fights, no confrontation where he told her he was leaving her, no clues whatsoever. It almost seemed like any minute now he might return and reveal that it was all a big misunderstanding.

And she wanted to believe him. Without question, or doubt. Without suspicion of any kind. As bad as it was starting to seem, she still held on to that glimmer of hope that her husband was not lost. Gina loved Neil with a survivor's intensity, and she would cling to the last and smallest fantasy of recovery.

Gina was finally brought into motion by the ringing of the telephone. Reaching over to the nightstand and picking it up, she felt the familiar yet fading hope that it might be Neil.

"Hello?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, I must have the wrong number," said a nasally female voice. "I was looking for Neil Fenner."

So am I, Gina thought. "This is his house. I'm his wife, Gina."

"Wife? Neil's married?" the woman sounded shocked. "But he said..." she trailed off and breathed heavy for a minute. "That son of a bitch! That goddamn fucking shithead!" Then there was a click, and she was gone.

Gina set the phone down, looked at it for a long while as the sun continued to climb, continued to shine, and then she sighed and stood up. She supposed there was nothing left to it. It was time to start being an active participant in her own life again.

Sitting around waiting for Neil wasn't getting her anything but sad.

She showered and dressed, thinking about forward motion but not actually planning anything. Once dressed, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her image looked back at her, and thought it saw the past. It was a strange feeling to have.

The phone rang again as she ate breakfast and she almost ignored it, but then she steeled herself and refused to be trained by the sorrow.

"Hello?" she said, answering it.

"Gina?" the tentative, rounded male voice responded. "I just wanted to call and see how you're doing."

Gina fought a sigh. "Hi, Cecile. I'm...I'm okay. I just..." without warning, Gina found herself crying. Not just crying, but sobbing. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she wept into the phone. It took more than a minute to regain control of herself. "I'm sorry," she said as contained her emotional outburst. "I guess I'm not so okay after all."

"Do you want me to come over?"

"No," she insisted. Cecile's appearance at her doorstep Thursday morning, and subsequent admission about Neil, had done a lot to unhinge her fantasies of her husband's return. She had spent half the morning asking him questions, trying to find a reason not to believe it. Then he'd come by Friday to check on her, and she'd reached out to him in her need for emotional support. He was kind, and sensitive, and clearly worried about her. But he was also young, and fit, and handsome, and that was something that she was becoming more and more conscious of. Gina felt inappropriate having such thoughts about another man. It still felt like cheating on her husband. It felt shaming, as ridiculous as that might look to outsiders.

"Are you sure? I have nothing going on today, and I guess I could use a friend right now, too."

"You?" she scoffed. "I'm sure you have plenty of other people you could be spending your time with."

"I do," he admitted. "But nobody that I'd rather be with."

Gina realized she was blushing. "Cecile..."

"I mean it. Listen, we'll compromise. It's September, and it's cold out, so you might as well go ahead and spend half the day at home crying alone. If that's what you want to have, then I won't stop you from having it. But you have to promise to let me get you out of the there for a little bit this evening. We'll get some supper, maybe go for a walk, and you'll even laugh a little."

"I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"I am."

She was aware of the urge to say yes. "It would be inappropriate for me to go out on a date. Especially with one of my husband's friends."

"He's not my friend anymore, and he's not your husband."

She felt the tears try to well up again. "Cecile, please. Don't push like that."

"Sometimes you have to push, when you see something you know you want. Come out with me, and nothing inappropriate will happen. Just come for dinner. Just come for a little conversation."

"Cecile..."

"Just come for me."

"Okay." She jerked a little, surprised at herself. Had she really said that?

"I promise not to disappoint," he said, and they said their goodbyes.

Gina shook her head in wonder. She was so overwhelmed by the extremity of her emotions that she could barely think straight. They strangled her heart and fluttered in her belly. Was she depressed? In agony? Jealous and hurt?

Or was part of her excited?

She knew that some of the appeal Cecile had right now had to do with her loneliness and fear of future loneliness. Was it possible to want something and at the same time hate yourself for wanting it? Gina put her hand to her forehead, sniffled, and tried to think.

-=-=-

"This is a hard place to find," Neil said by way of apology. Sitting down, he surveyed the room. He was almost a half an hour late.

"I don't mind a wait," Tim Leise waved his hand. "Service is usually slow anyway."

Neil examined the menu, a plastic sleeved set of papers that all looked like they'd been put together in Microsoft Word. "Interesting," he said.

"Gentleman Jim's is a college bar, but that don't matter. The food's still good, and the kids don't come around 'til later in the day."

Neil glanced over his menu at the larger man. "Did you find it when you were in college?"

Tim raised one eyebrow and studied the other man. "Didn't go to college. You could just ask direct, by the way. No need for all this side-to-side you keep putting on every question."

Neil laughed. "Yeah. You're a real open book, Tim. The more direct the question, the more withdrawn you become. In fact, I've spent two days with you and I don't know a damn thing about you."

"You know how my family died," Tim said flatly. "You know how my wife looks laying in a white bed, surrounded by machines and kept alive by tubes. You know how my daughter's tombstone looks with the sun overhead. That's quite a lot to know."

Neil sagged a little. "Yeah. Yeah, I do know that." He pretended to be fascinated by the menu some more. "What should I order for lunch?"

"I recommend the food," the other man smiled.

"Funny."

"You know, Neil, you ain't exactly a sharer yourself. What are you doing here?"

"I told you. I came to see you."

"For what? To get punched? To get all buddy buddy?"

Neil frowned. "I...I had a hard time dealing with my daughter's passing. And then I felt responsible for...for your loss, as well. I thought that maybe it would help both of us if we could talk. I thought maybe I knew some of what you were going through."

"Bullshit. You came down here to get yourself hurt, and that's all. Everything since then is just a bonus."

"Yeah, I'm a big fan of getting my ass kicked."

Leise grunted. "You a Catholic, Neil?"

Neil folded his arms. "What's it matter?"

"Just trying to find the source of all this goddamn guilt," Tim smiled.

"I'm an atheist, actually. Never was much of a believer to begin with. It used to drive my parents crazy. So, no, my religion isn't the source."

The smile drifted and died. "Oh." The larger man tapped his fingers on the table. Then he lifted his hand and made a fist, turning it over and looking at it. "Did it make you feel better?"

"When you hit me? Yeah. Yeah, I guess it did."

"Did it make you feel like you could face your wife?"

Neil blinked in surprise. "What?"

"Does she blame you for what happened? Does she blame you for her daughter's death?"

"Of course not."

"You think that she should?"

He clenched his jaw, and didn't respond. Both possible answers felt inaccurate, or at least disingenuous.

Tim shook his head. "You know something, Neil? I think you're a good guy. You care about people, and about how you affect them. You're obviously smart, but you're also down-to-earth enough to be good company. But here's the kicker: I don't blame you for my accident. If it was your mistake, it was a mistake. Just two days together has shown me enough to know that you weren't sloppy, or lazy in your work. And if it wasn't your mistake, then end of story. Here's something else: I don't blamemeeither. I hurt, more than I'd ever imagined I could hurt. But I don't feel like it was my fault. So here you are, and I guess I could call you a friend, but what the fuck are you sticking around for?"

Neil stared for a minute, then smiled. "You're a hell of a therapist, Tim. What do you do for a living, really?"

"I work down at the children's museum, managing the day camps." He grinned at Neil's incredulous stare. "No shit," he said.

Neil burst into laughter. "Son of a bitch," he said. "I didn't see that coming."

Later, when they'd finished eating, the two men stood in the parking lot and shook hands.

"Am I gonna see you again?" Tim asked. "I just wanna know so I can have some brass knuckles ready."

Neil shrugged. "Actually, I hope that you will. I've got your e-mail address, so we'll keep in touch. I'm...glad we met."

"Likewise. You take care." Tim turned to go, and Neil watched him walk to his car.

"You too," he said.

Climbing into his vehicle, he felt better than he had in almost a week. Good enough to feel ready to call his wife. He imagined Gina would snap at him for leaving the way he had, but he also knew that she understood. As upsetting as their conversation had been, just reading the note would have put her at ease. They'd done so much communicating that way, during the final days of counseling, that he had no doubt of how it would all play out. She would let him know honestly and fully just how irritated she was with his actions, and then it would e over. They could talk about everything. He was ready for that now. Neil Fenner glanced up at the cloudless sky, at the singing sun, and thanked the mystery of it for granting him such a perfect woman.

Taking out his cell phone, he dialed the house.

-=-=-

The phone rang, but Gina didn't have the heart to answer it. She lay on the floor in the center of the living room, listening to the perfectly timed electronic pitches. A long breath left her mouth.

It was probably just that crazy woman again, anyway. She'd called an hour ago, the same one who'd called for Neil and hung up on her earlier. This time, she'd left a string of furious profanities on the answering machine so nonsensical in their combinations that Gina couldn't tell if they were meant for her husband or for her. The crazy bitch had gone on for nearly a full minute, sometimes reaching such volume and pitch that it distorted the message beyond understanding and left Gina with pain in her stomach.

This time, though, it either wasn't the woman or she had decided that her speeches were wasted on the lifeless machine, because the machine only recorded dial tone. No message was left.

The phone started ringing again immediately, and Gina took another breath. She refused to answer it. She wouldn't be a part of this anymore, in any way. It was a small empowerment, but it was enough. She would not come when they called. She was tired of it. This time, it didn't matter who was calling. Even if it was Cecile, she wasn't going to answer.