A Mighty Pen

The first wrinkle came when my firm landed a plump new client -- a company in the Twin Cities was looking at acquiring a custom furniture shop up in rural Vermont and wanted a quick valuation. They planned to be active with their acquisition strategy, and they'd pay more for speed, so we jumped on the opportunity with both feet.

The Fourth was on Sunday this year, so Monday was a holiday, but the client still wanted me onsite the Monday of our weekend, which meant I needed to arrive in Vermont Sunday night. Of course there was no airport near this town tucked up against Quebec, so I had to fly into Portland, Maine, and drive. I couldn't get in on Sunday early enough to make the drive, so I'd have to fly Saturday, which meant an early departure from the lake. I told Gwyn, who was disappointed but understanding. We saw the married couples for dinner the next night, and Gwyn told everyone that we'd need to leave early because of my work commitment.

"That sucks," Angie said. "Why do you have to leave though?"

"Someone has to keep tabs on Pete," Gwyn laughed. We're from the midwest -- we don't ever want to be a burden. "Besides, we're not going to drive both cars up."

"That's silly, Gwyn. Pete can take your car, and you can ride back with Tom and me."

Gwyn looked to me, happy to leave the decision to me. I was glad for Angie's suggestion. I'd been feeling a little guilty that Gwyn was going to miss so much of the weekend because of my work.

"If it's no trouble, and if Gwyn's okay with it, I think that's a great idea."

"Thanks," Gwyn smiled. I think she meant that for both Angie and me.

We arrived Wednesday with no problems and got settled into our little room with the full-size bed. Mutt and Jenny were there to greet us, and Jeff drove in shortly afterwards. Brian and Noah showed up together, and they had Tanya and Roberta in tow. We hadn't seen either of them before, but we were welcoming nonetheless. Angie and Tom were scheduled in after dinner, and they arrived as we were cleaning up.

It was a rowdy night with lots of beer consumed and plenty of good-natured ribbing as befits a gathering of long-time friends. We interrogated Roberta, who was a good sport, and Tanya, who was more than a little sensitive. At one point she stepped away and Brian had to go after her to soothe her. That slowed our roll a little bit, but it was still a fun night.

We were tired from the drive and the beers, and it was an unfamiliar bed, and our bedtime routines were separated by the four other people using the same bathroom, so by the time I came to bed Gwyn was fast asleep. As usual, I got up before Gwyn the next morning, and when I went down for coffee I saw Mutt and Jenny packing their car.

"What's up, guys?"

Mutt shook his head. "Jenny's been called in. Too many nurses called out for the weekend."

"Total bummer. Don't they staff for these things?"

Jenny laughed. "They say they do, but every holiday it's the same thing. I knew I was on call, but I hoped I'd dodge the bullet this time."

"Sorry, Jen. Are you coming back, Mutt?"

He shook his head. "Jenny is going to be working OT, so she'll need some TLC. Plus who wants to spend the holiday alone?"

"You're a good man, Mutt. But I'll deny it if you repeat it."

We laughed, then said our goodbyes.

Even though we were down a couple, we had a great day on the lake. Without Mutt's direction, it took us twice as long to load up the pontoon boat, but once we got going it was just like always. We knew each other so well the conversation just flowed easily, and with Tanya and Roberta we had enough novelty to keep things interesting. As much as she loved new people, Gwyn spent a lot of time getting to know the two new women.

We docked a little before dusk, and fired up the grill again. We were all pretty buzzed, and we kept the beers flowing while Jeff and I cooked the burgers and dogs. Clean up was easy since we were using paper plates, which meant we could get back to the beers around the firepit. With Roberta and Tanya feeling more comfortable, the conversation got a little more raunchy and a lot sharper. Angie and Tom and Gwyn and I were left to defend the honor of the married folks, and I thought we acquitted ourselves against the superior numbers of the singles. We did take more than a few good shots though. When I saw Gwyn yawn I grabbed her hand and led her upstairs to clean up for bed. I'd hoped for some loving, but again we were disrupted as we got ready, and she was sleeping soundly when I crawled in next to her.

Friday was another gorgeous day, and while we were moving more slowly we weren't going anywhere, so we just met the day as it unfurled. After a couple pots of coffee and some pastries and fruit, we loaded up the pontoon and headed out again. Everyone was getting along great, and we mixed well. We dove off the boat and swam, ate sandwiches and chips, and drank a disproportionate amount of beer yet again. I thought we'd need to make a beer run when we got back to shore, but without Mutt to crack the whip, we meandered back and it was after dark when bumped up against the dock.

The unloading was going fine until Tom and I tried to get the big cooler off the boat. If we'd been sober we would have drained the melted ice before off-loading it, but we weren't and we didn't. I went first, shuffling backwards, and when Tom went to step onto the dock the water sloshed and messed up his balance and his foot went between the boat and the dock. He screamed in pain as the rough wood of the dock scraped his shin, and to add insult to injury the pontoon boat banged against his calf, driving his knee into the dock too. I dropped the cooler, and grabbed him to keep from going in the water. I did, but with his leg between the boat and dock and the fog in our brains, he still took a couple more shots on his leg until we got him clear.

Most of the others came running to see what had happened. With Tom hobbling and Jeff and me supporting him, we got him into the house. His shin was peeled from the knee to the ankle, and there was a lot of blood, but it wasn't gushing. He kept groaning, but after several minutes he seemed to get control of his senses. None of us was in any shape to drive anywhere, and he was embarrassed. so he told everyone that he'd wrap it in a towel and head to bed and see what it looked like in the morning. Angie was understandably upset, but she agreed that he wasn't going to bleed to death, and it would be better to reassess in the light of day. Angie helped him to their bed and stayed with him a while to make sure nothing unexpected happened to him.

The rest of us finished unloading the boat -- very carefully, so it took a long time -- and then decided to call for pizza to be delivered. As I noticed, beer was running low, so Jeff broke out the blender and started making margaritas. Since I had to get up and get back to town and then out to the airport first thing the next morning, I passed on the drinks. I still had beer my liver was processing. With concern over Tom and the hubbub when the pizzas arrived, my margarita abstinence went unnoticed with the first round. Angie came out to grab a slice for Tom and another for herself, and she said Tom seemed to be feeling better now that he was lying down and had his leg wrapped up. Everyone sighed with relief, and with some food in bellies and concern for Tom temporarily abated, conversation started up again.

"Who needs another marg?" Jeff asked. "Pete?"

"No, I'm good."

"C'mon, gramps -- have a drink with us!" Brian yelled, and his motion was seconded by several others.

"I got an early day tomorrow. I'll catch up with you next time."

"Christ, Gwynnie, you need to get a new man. One who knows how to have a good time!" Jeff said. "Do you need another one?"

Gwynnie? That was new to me. I never heard anyone call her that. Ever. She told me once unbidden when I was mining for pet names for her that she despised it. I waited for the correction.

"I could use another one." She drained her glass and wiggled it, and Jeff bounded over to grab it from her.

Well.

Jeff made new drinks for everyone but me, we finished off the pizzas, and the trash-talking started again. Only it was just Gwyn and me on the one side, and a bunch of drunk singles on the other. And for the first time in our relationship, Gwyn didn't help me out. The others smelled blood in the water and they went after it without mercy. Gwyn didn't join in the attack, but she didn't help with the defense either. I'm not a fool, and fighting an unwinnable war is never the smart choice, so it didn't take long before I just stopped talking. But since everyone else was well lubricated, they just kept piling on.

"Can't say nothing to the truth, right, Pete?"

"Sure you don't want another drink, Pete? We could make it a virgin. Then you could feel almost like one of the real men here!"

"Cat got your tongue, Pete?"

"Get used to it, Gwynnie -- he's going to have a dozen cats before you get home on Monday! He's turning into an old cat lady before our eyes!"

At that Gwyn laughed. Nothing has ever unnerved me more than that little bark of a laugh. I sat stone still, but they were way past registering any social cues. I stopped paying attention and went inside myself. I really didn't like where this had gone, and I started paying attention to Gwyn. She usually looked at me when we were together, but tonight her attention was untethered. She'd look to me out of habit, but she was just as likely to look to Tanya or Jeff or Brian or Roberta or even Noah. I saw too that Jeff started paying more attention to Gwyn, showing off for her. I doubt he was conscious of it, but his instincts picked up that Gwyn wasn't bound to me like she usually was, and he started playing to her. I found everything very disturbing, and I really didn't like the idea of Gwyn staying here without me.

I stood up, yawning and stretching, and put myself right in front of Gwyn, holding out my hand. She was drunk, and she looked at me questioningly.

"I've got an early start, so it's time for bed."

"Pete needs his beauty sleep!" Noah yelled.

"C'mon, old man," added Brian. "Just cause you can't keep up doesn't mean you have to bring Gwyn down!"

"Yeah, Gwynnie -- tell the old guy that you'll catch up with him later!"

"I'm going to be gone for several days, Gwyn -- I'd like to spend some private time with you."

She pouted at our friends, but she took my hand and stood up. We said our goodnights and then moved upstairs. I soon realized that she was very drunk, but I coerced a promise from her that we'd get up and go to breakfast at the local diner before I took off in the morning. Again she was passed out when I came back from the bathroom.

I got us up at 7:30, and Gwyn was feeling very rough around the edges. I wasn't in good spirits either. With Mutt gone no one had cleaned up anything, so pizza boxes and glasses and empty tequila bottles were spread out over the living room and out around the picnic tables. It looked like the aftermath of a frat party.

Our breakfast was very quiet. Eerily so. I had a very bad feeling about the rest of the weekend.

"I'd like it if you came home with me this morning, Gwyn."

"Really? Why?"

How could I tell her my trust in her was shaken without triggering defensiveness or hurt?

"I think Angie and Tom have their hands full without giving you a lift back to town. And the way those guys were drinking last night I don't think there will be any brain cells left among them after another night." I laughed to soften my judgemental tone.

"They're just blowing off steam. And I'm sure Tom will be fine after a good night's sleep. Even if he's not, I can get a ride home with one of the others."

"Brian's car is already full."

"Jeff has room. He came by himself."

"Okay, Gwynnie."

"You know better than to call me that."

WTF? "It's true, I do. But why doesn't Jeff?"

She was quiet a moment. "So that's what's bothering you. You're jealous."

"That's really not the point. I just think the weekend isn't going the way we thought, and you might want to make a gracious exit is all. And why doesn't it bother you when he calls you 'Gwynnie'?"

"He's always called me that, and it's not worth it to hassle with him. You know him -- he won't let it go. Have I ever given you reason to be jealous?"

I never heard him call her that. "It's really not an issue. I'm not jealous."

Yes, I am.

"Then why don't you want me to stay?"

Decision time. The truth? Or some part of it? "You didn't back me up when they started in on me last night. For the first time ever I didn't feel like we were on the same team. I feel like there's distance between us. I don't like it."

She smiled ruefully. "I love you, you idiot. That hasn't changed, and it's not going to. You don't need me to ride to your rescue. You were doing just fine by yourself."

"I don't want to be by myself."

"I'm always going to be with you."

"Then drive home with me. If you really want to, you can come back after I go to the airport."

"Don't be silly. That's a lot of driving, and I'll be stuck at home by myself. I don't want to be by myself either."

I was out of ideas, and my bad feeling hadn't abated one bit. But there was nothing else to say. We settled up the bill and returned quietly to the lake house. I went upstairs to grab my bag, while Gwyn started cleaning downstairs. There was no sign of anyone else, and I bet there wouldn't be for several hours yet. I put my stuff in my duffel, then wrestled with myself. I should trust her. I loved her. We had chosen each other as life partners. But I had that bad feeling I couldn't shake. In the end, I made the bed, tidied the room, and closed the door. I took a deep breath and went downstairs.

Gwyn met me and walked me out to the car.

"Last chance. Sure you don't want to come with me?" I asked.

"I'll see you when you get back. Have a safe trip. Text me along the way. I love you." She kissed me gently. I drove off with a sinking feeling in my gut.

I stopped for a coffee at a Starbucks halfway home. While I waited for the barista to get to my order, I shot a quick text to Gwyn: "Stopped at Starbucks. Miss u."

A minute later I got her reply: "Miss u 2. Luv u."

I made it home, where I showered and packed for my trip. I got to the airport a little after one, and decided to call Gwyn. There was a lot of noise in the background, including loud music.

"Hi, Pete. I miss you!"

"Me too. I'm at the airport. How's Tom doing?"

"Not so good. Angie took him to the hospital a little while ago. She called Jenny, and Jenny said infection was a big risk since the lake water has all kinds of bacteria in it. Completely freaked Angie out, so they left."

"So it's just the six of you?"

"We're calling ourselves the Hard Cores." I heard a whoop and a chant of "Hard Cores! Hard Cores! Hard Cores!" in the background. Then a voice I thought was Jeff's say "It's the Sexy Six!" Gwyn chuckled.

"I see you guys picked up where you left off last night."

"Don't be like that, Pete. We're just having fun. What's really bugging you?"

I sighed. "I lost the pen you gave me for graduation."

"Oh, Pete! Don't worry. I'm sure it will turn up. When did you have it last?"

"I'm pretty sure I had it when I was at Starbucks earlier. I was making a couple notes to remember on my trip. But I didn't have it with me when I got home. Please keep an eye out for it."

"I will. Did you check the car? I'm sure you've just misplaced it."

"I hope you're right."

There was more noise in the background. It sounded like a shots countdown.

"I've got to go before I fall too far behind and they make me catch up all at once. Safe travels. I love you."

"I love you too, Gwyn."

My flights were uneventful. I landed in Portland just before 8pm local time. I texted Gwyn ("On the ground in Maine"), but didn't get a reply. I collected my rental car, then stopped for a bite to eat at a local pub. I found my way to my hotel, a Hampton Inn, and checked in. I texted Gwyn the details, but didn't get a reply.

I felt like I was on autopilot. I stripped, then climbed into bed. Surprisingly I went right to sleep. My emotions were shot, and I was just wrung out. Completely exhausted. Not surprisingly, I woke up at 2am and couldn't get back to sleep. I checked my phone. No texts. At 5am I texted Gwyn: "WTF, Gwyn?" I finally dozed around 6am for an hour or so, but then I couldn't stand it any longer, so I showered and hit the hotel breakfast. I was on the road to Vermont by 9:30.

Alone with my thoughts I processed scenarios, which calmed me. By the time I arrived in Newport, Vermont, I had plans for several contingencies. I found my motel, but the room wouldn't be ready until 3pm, so I walked around the town. I found a nice little diner where I got a patty melt and a great chocolate shake. My phone finally buzzed as I was slurping down the last bit of the shake.

"Hi, luv. Howz ur trip?"

Wow, that was a discordant note. She'd seen my last text. I picked up the phone and called her. It went immediately to voicemail. So she rejected the call. I was very hurt. And very angry. I texted: "WTF, Gwyn?"

There was no response. I paid the bill, grinding my teeth the whole time. I walked outside, found a park bench, where I sat. Or rather rocked. I was enraged, and the energy coursed through my body. I had to move to release it. I don't know how long I sat there rocking back and forth, but eventually I calmed down. There was still no word from Gwyn.

After I checked into the motel, I went for another walk. I needed to get my head right for my meetings tomorrow. I was obsessing over the phone, so I turned it off. I decided to leave it off until I was at the airport again on Tuesday afternoon. I could defer the rest of my life for 48 hours.

* * * * *

Turning off my phone was remarkably effective for my focus. I slept reasonably well Sunday night -- the fireworks show at the baseball field lasted about 20 minutes and there weren't many rogue explosions -- and I was a few minutes early for my meetings with the six-person furniture maker bright and early Monday morning. I had pretty much everything I needed by mid-afternoon, but I wouldn't be able to get to Portland in time to catch tonight's flight out, so I started working on the model and projections in the motel. I made excellent progress, and by the time I left late the next morning I was nearly done with it. I e-mailed my manager the status, and then hit the road. The drive was uneventful, and I turned in the rental car with plenty of time to get to my gate.

Once seated, I took a deep breath and turned on my phone. It took a couple minutes to sync, but when it did I had a bunch of texts from Gwyn, but no calls. The texts started on Monday morning. Interesting. I figured I knew what that meant.

The texts started off apologetic -- sorry for not being more responsive, my phone died, I couldn't find the charger, we were having so much fun we lost track of time. Then came contrite -- I miss you, hope you're having a good trip, what are you doing? Then they turned to concern -- are you okay?, where are you?, why won't you let me know what's going on? Then a flash of anger -- this is so childish! Then apologies again -- I'm sorry! I'm just so worried. Finally a flash of despair -- I love you. Please let me know you're okay.

He typed a reply: "All fine here. Forgot charger 2. Finally borrowed 1."

Gwyn's reply came immediately: "So glad 2 hear from u! I luv u!"

"Ran into problems on job. Back tomorrow nite. Same time."

She replied with a sad-face emoji. "I miss u"

"Sorry. Got 2 get back 2 work." Then I remembered. "Any sign of pen?"

Another sad-face emoji. "No. I'll keep looking. I luv u."