Evil Woman

We met with our insurance agent, actually Melinda's agent. We got a small and fairly inexpensive life insurance policy for each other. We also combined all of our auto and home insurance.

"One thing we've got to have," Melinda declared during the meeting, "long term disability insurance. Neither of us should ever have to go through what my parents are doing. My Dad's illness has sucked up most of their retirement savings. The strain on my Mom is terrible."

The agent said he'd quote us on different options for this type of insurance.

"It can get expensive." Our insurance agent told us.

"I don't care," Melinda said, and we purchased the expensive insurance.

Meanwhile, things at work seemed to be going well. I continued my project management and also found out I was pretty good at sales. Our sales reps would request that I travel with them for product trainings and sales presentations.

I was able to explain our product in deep detail and my natural enthusiasm about imported lumber was conveyed to our customers. I was also asked to speak at a regional building materials convention. My topic was 'responsible forest management for the future'.

Shortly before the wedding I had another trip to South America planned. This included an excursion to meet with the Tikuna and my good friend Mafii.

I spent two days with the Tikuna and most of the time I was with Mafii. When I first arrived I was greeted with a warm hug from Mafii and many smiles from the other Tikuna.

"Kebin, you come," and he motioned me toward the area near where I remembered the orphanage was. What I saw surprised me. I had not been there for two years and the changes were extreme.

There was a new building with sectioned areas for the orphans, not the broad disheveled open room. The building was far bigger than the old one I had known. They had built a small schoolhouse with the money from Van Duzen and also hired a teacher from the closest town down river.

It was quite evident that Mafii and the Tikuna were proud of what they had accomplished and were grateful to me. I tried to explain it was not just me, but they didn't care. I was thanked.

Mafii and I talked as we walked through the village.

"Kebin," he began, "with school, now children have future. They choose future. They learn from teacher. Read, write. Young man named Keta," and he pointed in a vague direction, "he go un-I-versity," he enunciated the unfamiliar word slowly as he spoke, while proudly smiling at me.

I was amazed that the relatively small amount of money we provided to this community could have such a large effect.

"We also teach Tikuna customs," Mafii told me. "Need young people to know old ways."

"Mafii," I asked, "can you show me some of the Tikuna customs?"

At that he stopped and studied me. Gone was the normal ever present smile. For an instant he looked angry as he searched my face. Suddenly he smiled, he realized I was sincere.

"Yes Kebin, I show you."

As we walked away from the orphanage I was very impressed with all the changes that the Tikuna had accomplished in such a short period of time. But there was one thing that had not changed. The sheer joy and happiness of these children. Despite their difficult situations the children laughed and played. Their attitude toward life was inspirational.

That afternoon Mafii told me about the Tikuna customs. He showed me their ornamental masks, and how they were made. He showed me their traditional ways of fishing along the Amazon and its many tributaries. And finally he showed me how they hunt.

One custom they rarely use anymore was the art of poison dart hunting.

"We take," and then he said a word I didn't understand but I assume it meant something like secretions, "from Kamba (frog), put on dart" and then he demonstrated the blow dart. Mafii's dart stuck rigidly in a tree twenty yards away.

He went on to tell me that the amount of poison secretions from certain frogs had toxic properties that can kill larger animals. I later learned that the species of frog that could produce the toxins were called Phyllobates.

There was real skill in the entire art of blow dart hunting. I tried it, but it wasn't easy. Mafii laughed at my attempts, but by the time we were done I could hit a tree maybe five yards away. Mafii also showed me how much of a dose the frog toxin to use based on the size of the animal.

"What happens," I asked, "if you don't have enough poison on the dart for the size of animal you find?"

"Animal not die," he explained, "animal no move, sleep with eye open." He told me.

It must paralyze the animal but not quite kill them. Interesting I thought.

The following day it was time to go. I told Mafii and the Tikuna I would return. More than anything else I was happy I was able to have some kind of positive affect on the lives of these people.

By the time I returned the wedding was only weeks away. It seemed like there was a constant list of 'to-do's' that I needed to address after work each day. I still maintained my habit of getting to the office early, but now with all these chores I was leaving most days right at five PM.

One of the big challenges was moving Melinda and the girls to my house. We had decided to live at my house and give up Melinda's rented condo. Though my house was small it was bigger than the condo. Melinda and I would be in the big bedroom at my house upstairs and Esme and Francine would share the main floor bedroom.

The wedding was fun, I believe the attendee count was between sixty and seventy people. Melinda's Dad attended in a wheelchair. I watched him and I could tell his health was really going downhill. But beyond that most everything was quite nice and it was a fun event.

There was one problem, and this happened in the week before the wedding. We had planned on a honeymoon in St. Maarten in the Caribbean. Many weeks before Melinda had spoken with Jon Pierre about taking the girls for the week we were scheduled to be on the honeymoon. At one point he had readily agreed.

In fact at first, when Jon Pierre became aware of Melinda and my relationship he seemed almost happy about it. Maybe relieved would be a closer description. We had some contact with Jon Pierre almost 100% because of his visitation schedule.

In different circumstances I could imagine Jon Pierre as a casual friend. He could be quite charming, funny, and interesting. There were times when he came to get the girls at the condo where we would chat as Melinda got them ready. A few times I would offer him a beer as we waited and he always accepted.

But I also knew the other side of Jon Pierre mostly from Melinda but also in my brief interactions with him in the past. I knew he presented to the world a casual, friendly, attitude. He loved to charm people. But I knew he was a self absorbed narcissist. I also knew that under that top layer was a simmering anger, ultra competitive, and an attitude that the world owed him something.

Occasionally that anger leaked out of the polished surface veneer. There would be just flashes of the real Jon Pierre and there were times when that attitude was directed at me. It didn't take a psychologist to understand why he felt this way about me.

Number one, I had a steady job and had a nice income. Number two, in his mind, I had taken his beautiful wife, even though they had split up long before I was reintroduced to the picture. And finally he saw that I was creating a paternal-type relationship with Esme and Francine as a far better role model.

I had to imagine in his mental scorebook, it looked something like this: Kevin 3 - Jon Pierre 0. And as I have said Jon Pierre was ultra competitive.

So with this understanding in my mind, I tried to be watchful of all interactions with Melinda's ex and particularly his role as the girl's father.

Back to the honeymoon. On the Wednesday before the wedding I received a cursing, angry phone call from Melinda. I quickly understood the anger was not directed toward me. It was Jon Pierre she was furious at.

"He claims he can't take care of the girls next week," she finally told me after she'd exhausted her cursing.

I knew by now the proper response. Stay silent.

"The son of a bitch said he had a business obligation," she snarled into the phone. "Business Obligation!" She went on, "he sells fucking used cars! He claims he's needed out of town!"

We discussed other alternatives for babysitting, several who in my mind were far better than Jon Pierre, but none were acceptable to Melinda. I agreed with her. It didn't seem right to shuffle the girls off to an unfamiliar environment for a week while we vacationed.

"I'm sure we can get credits for all our travel," I told Melinda, "I'll take care of it. Mel, honey, don't let this ruin the wedding." I said to her.

She vowed it wouldn't, but she was still angry as we hung up. There was no doubt in my mind, Jon Pierre had deliberately sabotaged our plans with sadistic glee.

Instead of Saint Maarten the four of us vacationed for the week on the Oregon coast. Unlike the Caribbean we did not have to worry about sunscreen in Cannon Beach, but we had a great time. We'd walk on the beach, observed the sea life in the tide pools at low tide, played in the sand dunes, and went on hikes on the cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

After all the activities around the wedding and the transition to my house were finally completed the normal parts of life continued. I continued the work I loved at Van Duzen, Melinda still worked in real estate and the girls were now of an age where they were both in school. Francine in kindergarten and Esme in second grade.

The following several years were what I thought of as the good times, the stable years. I was working hard and was more and more involved with the sales side of our business. And for the most part, business was good. Melinda worked less in real estate but did sell a house every month or so. She also helped out with her father who's health continued to decline.

The girls were doing well in school. Francine quickly became one of the popular kids with her outgoing fun personality. Esme was different. She was far more introverted. She was wary, slow to make friends. It would be hard to call Esme a happy child. Because of that I always tried to carve out extra time to spend with her. She had trust issues with adult males, understandably, but I tried hard to never let her down.

Believe it or not, even Jon Pierre began to have regular visits, fewer cancellations for the most part. He seemed at ease in my home as Melinda would get the girls ready. He and I would chat good naturedly and often I would have to remind myself that there was more to this guy than meets the eye. But he definitely could be charming.

There was one time in which his true nature emerged.

Several weeks before he had surprised the girls with news that he was taking them to the circus. Sitting in my living room he told them about the elephants, the lions, the trapeze, and high wire acts. Francine was beside herself with excitement, literally jumping up and down, clapping her hands. Even Esme, normally subdued, seemed genuinely happy.

For the next few weeks one of the main topics of conversation around the house was the circus.

The week the circus came to town I developed a nasty cold, perhaps the flu. I moved to the basement with a space heater and a cot. I didn't want the girls to get my germs and miss the circus.

On the afternoon the circus was in town. I received a phone call from Melinda.

"You are not going to believe it," she began the conversation, "their fucking father cancelled on them."

"What?" Through my fevered condition, I hadn't quite understood what she was talking about.

"He's not taking them to the circus!" She explained.

I checked the clock, it was after two PM. Apparently Melinda was with a client for the next hour or so. I thought of the girls. They would be disappointed to a degree I don't believe I had yet seen. I tried to rally my ill body.

Sitting up was an effort and I had to search a bit to figure out how to contact the company that was sponsoring the circus. I finally figured out who to call.

It sounded like there were a handful of tickets remaining but for some reason you actually had to go to the Tacoma Dome box office to get them. They would not sell them over the phone. Even with good traffic this may take an hour to get there from my house.

I got dressed, and shivering, made it to my car. The weather was typical, pouring rain. I cranked the heat and the defrost. Fortunately the traffic was fair, not great, but I'd seen it worse.

It was nearly 3:30 by the time I got to the Tacoma Dome. Feeling horrible I found the ticket sales office.

"I need three tickets for tonight's circus," I hoarsely told the agent.

"All I got left is general admission in the top row, $20 each, or I've got a few in Premier." The agent told me.

"What's Premier?" I asked.

She explained it was reserved seats in the closest ring to the performers. The tickets were $140 each.

"I'll take three for Premier." I told her.

On the way home I called Melinda. She had just picked the girls up from school

"The girls are crying," she told me, "and where are you? I thought you were sick?"

I explained I had purchased the circus tickets and she could take the girls to the circus after all.

"Oh my god Kevin," she said, "are you telling me you got out of your sickbed, drove in the rain through traffic and spent nearly five hundred dollars on tickets. Just so my girls weren't disappointed?"

"Well," I began, "it wasn't quite that bad," I said before I was interrupted by a coughing jag.

"I love you forever." She said to me.

Much later, I reflected, I wish that had been true.

I met up with Melinda and her girlfriends on a girls night out some weeks later. I was Melinda's designated ride. I sat and had a half a light beer with the group and spent some time with Taylor. It sounded like her life was going well, but she had an older sister, Janice, who was having a tough time.

I remember Janice as being a few years older and attractive, but not in the same category as Taylor. It sounded like she had three children, by two men, and neither of the men were around anymore.

Taylor told me she needed a job.

"Do you know anyone that's hiring?" She asked. "I know Janice is kind of ditzy but she works hard. She really needs something stable." She added, obviously concerned for her sister.

Actually we did need a receptionist at the Crescent Creek office. I was reluctant to recommend her. It's kind of like getting involved with a blind date setup. There are a whole lot of potential bad outcomes and really only one good one, I thought. On the other hand, Taylor had been a good friend for a long time.

"Taylor," I said, " we may have something. I'll check."

"Kevin, thank you!" She exclaimed and gave me a hug and a small kiss on the cheek.

On the way home Melinda mentioned the kiss to me.

"What was with Taylor kissing you?" She asked, not quite angry but also a ways from happy.

I explained.

"Okay, I guess." Melinda replied.

I found it mildly satisfying that it was she that was getting jealous.

A few weeks later we actually hired Janice. Now, I hoped she could perform the minimal tasks necessary to be a receptionist.

The months passed with a steady expected pattern, nothing terribly exciting, but no major disasters. I was comfortable with this lifestyle. I continued to do well at work and I was rewarded monetarily consistent with my accomplishments.

Melinda began asking about a larger house. House prices, as predicted, had continued to increase. I know we could sell my house at a profit and we could afford to buy something bigger. That was Melinda's idea.

My, far more conservative plan, was to save for the girls college, while we stayed in my house. Melinda, without enthusiasm, agreed on this idea "for now".

Over the next year several events happened. The first being the eventual and merciful passing of Melinda's father.

We received a call in the middle of the night. It was Melinda's mom. I listened as Melinda took the call. There was no immediate emotional breakdown. No tears. I suppose we had all been grieving the decline of his health over quite some time. And I would also guess that I certainly was not the only one that felt relief as one of the many emotions I began to process with the news.

After all the activities surrounding a close family member's death there is a bit of a blank period when we all now process what life moving forward will feel like.

For Melinda she kept these feelings bottled up. There was a distinct disconnect from me and I also observed her disconnect, more slightly, from the girls. I assumed this was her way of working through her own grief. I also assumed that after a short period of time, weeks, we would reconnect.

I also observed new hostility between the girls. I knew that sibling bickering can be quite normal and certainly the two girls were very different. Francine the outgoing louder little sister compared to the older more reserved Esme. But the odd change was that those two girls had been through a lot together. They had always been a unit. Now that was changing.

And then there was Jon Pierre.

Jon Pierre had bounced around trying different jobs. His personality and charisma was balanced by a poor work ethic and dishonesty. He would start a job and do fine for a few weeks until his true nature emerged. One look at his spotty resume and anyone short of desperate would never hire him. One thing he seemed to have more success with was selling cars. And now either he had somehow changed or the circumstances required fit his work habits.

He now was employed at Registers Preowned Luxury Vehicles. They sold used premium European and Japanese cars primarily. Jon Pierre had the looks and arrogant attitude to fit in and appeal to the customer base that were interested in used luxury vehicles. Apparently he was somewhat successful.

The first time I pulled up and saw the black Land Rover in front of my house I was surprised when I discovered Jon Pierre inside waiting for the girls. The last car I had noticed him driving was an older Honda Civic.

I also noticed he was drinking one of my beers and helping himself to some expensive smoked salmon I had purchased.

"Hey man," he said good naturedly, "when I saw the salmon I just had to try it," he told me, licking his fingers one by one.

I just nodded without saying a word.

It had been a stressful day at work and I was not in a great mood anyway. Now this asshole is sitting in my house, drinking my beer, and eating my expensive food.

Later after they had left I brought all this up to Melinda. She normally had a lengthy litany of negative comments relating to Jon Pierre and I expected some degree of commiseration.

I was surprised by her reaction.

"Kevin," she said, "who cares. It's just food we can buy some more."

I had learned in my years of marriage I could argue with her, win that war, but lose the battle. I didn't need us to be in some type of fight. I had enough stress with the current changing climate at Van Duzen.

"Okay," I replied. "I get it." For now, I thought.

And then I left the subject alone. Still, I was surprised that it seemed like she came to his defense. I pondered our relationship and noted that in the months since her father died it still didn't seem like we had been completely able to reconnect.

At work the next day rumors started to float through the office. The economy had softened and demand for new houses first plateaued and now we began to see a decline. We had forecast slight growth for the year in our budgets.

When you build a budget it is supposed to be an intelligent estimate of what you expect business to be in the defined time frame. The problem was there was always pressure to have an increase. I recall my estimates for my sector I had originally projected as flat. My budget was handed back to me and I was told to 'show an increase'. I revised my budget.