G3PDA

Using the GPS feature on the PDA, I could locate the bar where Brit had gone to meet her ex, and let a couple of the women who worked for me know where to go. I was really very touched when my employees, who had seen that I was feeling down-in-the-dumps, volunteered to help me apply the coup-de-grace on my relationship. I took two of the women up on their offer. They called me when they were in place and ready.

It only took about 30 minutes, and my helpers had gotten me the materials I needed, which they sent to my PDF. At that point, they left, and, with the spare key to my car that Brit had been using, drove it to the office and parked it in one of the spaces. We would take it back to my place later.

The time had come.

I speed dialed Brit's PDF number.

"Hello Jim," she answered, seeing my number on the caller ID.

"Hey Brit. What ya doing?" I asked.

"I'm out with the girls for a couple of hours, But, Jim, I really want to talk to you. Are you going to be home tonight?" she said, with a tone of urgency to her voice.

"Absolutely, Brit. I'll be there," I replied, not mentioning to her that she wouldn't.

Suddenly, as if it was an idea that I had just had, I said,

"Brit — I'm sending you a picture to say hello to the girls!" I sent a picture of me, smiling and waving, that I took with my PDA, holding it out in one hand, and pointing at myself.

"Did you get it?" I asked.

I could hear laughter over the line.

"Yes! I showed the girls, they are all waving back!" she told me.

"Take a quick picture of them and send it to me," I requested.

That, of course, set the fox loose in the hen house. How could she possible take a photo of the girls when, in fact, she was with her ex? Her response was so predictable. A minute passed. I heard muted conversation in the background.

"Jim, I don't know, there is something wrong with my phone. I can't get it to take a picture," she temporized.

Being your typical helpful techie, I tried to walk her through the process to take a photo.

"It just isn't working, Jim. You can look at it when I get home, and figure out what I'm doing wrong," she said, I suspect relying on my masculine pride that I would 'fix' it for her and not question why her PDA was somehow, suddenly, not working properly.

"Tell you what, Brit," I interjected, "Let me try sending another photo, just to check the connection."

That was when I sent the photo of Brit and numb-nuts, Donny, exploring each others tonsils; a photo taken minutes before. It's amazing the great resolution that these PDA's can capture. Of course, the girls were able to get pretty close to the love birds to surreptitiously take the photo, since Brit didn't know either one of them from Adam, and the club was crowded and noisy.

I could hear the gasp at the other end of the connection.

Her voice was cracking when she finally spoke,

"Jim..."

I cut her off before she could go on.

"Brit, I've had your stuff packed and it is being delivered to your parents house any minute now," I declared.

"Jim.." she tried again.

"No, Brit, let me finish, please," I said in as civil a voice as I could muster.

"I had my car picked up from the parking lot of the bar," another gasp in the background, "and your name was removed from the household credit card two hours ago. And in about ten minutes, your PDA will be shut off. Oh, yeah, don't bother coming back to my place tonight. I hope you and Donny-boy have a prosperous life together," I finished.

Even as I hit the 'Off' button, I could hear her,

"Jim, please let me talk to..."

About eight months later, on a Saturday morning, I was sitting in the local coffee shop having breakfast, when I hand was gently placed on my shoulder. I looked up and there was Brad, Brit's father, looking down at me, smiling. He was looking good for a guy his age. Fit, tan, healthy. Brit got her eyes from him.

"Hey Jim. Good to see you. Mind if I keep you company for a couple of minutes?" he asked.

I'd always liked Brad — and I was pretty sure he had liked me as well.

"Sure, Brad," I responded, with a grin, while I waved at my waitress across the room, pointed at Brad and mimicked someone pouring a cup of coffee. She smiled and nodded, and in 30-seconds, there was a fresh cup of steaming hot java waiting for Brad's ministrations. He put in some cream, sipped and put the cup back down.

"Ah," he stated with some authority, "Nothing like a good cup of coffee in the morning."

I could only agree.

We spoke in general about things for ten minutes or so, and then I brought Brad up-to-date on how my company was doing. He seemed genuinely pleased at my success. Lord knows, Brad would have been a great father-in-law.

I finally broke down and asked the question. Time heals all things, I guess, so I could hear Brittany's name again without feeling like someone had disemboweled me.

"How's Brit doing?" I gulped a little as it came out, since I was almost ashamed of myself for asking.

"Jim, first I want to tell you, that I was really sorry about what happened. I love my little girl, but sometimes she is her own worst enemy," he started, looking directly into my face as he spoke.

"That night, right after you lowered the boom on her, she called me and asked if I could come and pick her up. She didn't have the car anymore, and she told me that she only had about five more minutes before her PDA would be shut off, so she would tell me about it later," Brad said, his face with a look close to grief on it.

He continued,

"Well, she did tell us, and didn't try to hide or justify anything. Didn't try to blame you. Said she'd screwed up the best thing in her life, being with a man who she could love and respect."

Brad's face formed a real frown then.

"You should understand, Jim, that Donny is a real slick talker. He is really convincing, a real flim-flam man. So after Brit had been with us for about two-weeks, he conned her into trying to reconcile with him, since she wasn't with you anymore and that it was unlikely you would be likely to take her back, and she moved in with him," he said, shaking his head, just like he had the night of her birthday.

"That son-of-a-bitch! Within four months, he had loaded up her credit cards again, to the point where Brit had to declare bankruptcy, and he disappeared. Just ran away, leaving Brit to deal with the banks and the creditors. A damn coward as well," he exclaimed bitterly, "but what could you expect?"

I just sat there quietly taking it in, nodding my head in agreement.

"So now she's back living at home, working, trying just to get her head above water. Oh, yeah. She still loves that PDA you gave her. I bought her a new plan, since she couldn't afford one on her own," Brad explained.

"Brad, I have to tell you the truth, I miss Brit, but I couldn't put up with woman who I couldn't trust. I'm just not a user and a taker like Donny, and it really hurt me that she didn't appreciate the difference, and would go back to a jack-ass like him," I said, with a sad little smile on my face.

"Son, don't blame you one bit. And if there is anything good to come out of this, it is that I think Brit learned that lesson, albeit the hard way," he laughed a little as he said it, "I guess that's the way it is with most of us — we usually remember the painful things."

Brad mused for a minute before speaking,

"If it makes you feel any better, I know that Brit would be there in a minute if you snapped your fingers. I told her that men like you don't put up with any crap, they want their women loyal, not wandering off, catting around. She tells me that she's learned her lesson, but sometimes life doesn't give you second chances," Brad concluded, his eyes a bit shiny.

He got up to leave, we shook hands, said our goodbyes and he walked away. I looked after him. What a stand-up guy, I thought.

My G3 PDA was sitting there on the table. What a lot of useful technology in a tiny package. A tool for good, a tool for evil. If you had described a PDA to someone 25 years ago, they would have thought that you were reading too much science-fiction.

I remembered that I still had some of those pictures that Brit had sent to me. I don't erase photos of naked women casually. I looked them over, found myself getting a bit aroused, and thought about mistakes and second chances. About happiness, and hurting people you love. Getting into the philosophical 'deep shit' realm.

Oh, what the hell.

On the little keyboard, I typed in a message and sent it:

"Hey, What's up Brit."

After about a minute, there was a reply,

"OMG! JIM?"

*

This little story came to me when I was reading an article about how cell phones had made it more difficult to know where the person on the other end of a phone call actually was. I thought about that, and decided that it was a two-edged sword: If someone claims that they are with a particular person or group, or that they are at a specific location, well, with the new phones and PDAs, you can demand they take a photo and show you, right then! I guess another cat that is out of the bag now is how many of the new phones and PDAs are GPS trackable. So there were a couple of twists that a PDA could bring to the story that I don't recall anyone using before — force the wandering spouse (or significant other) to incriminate themselves with their cells. HA!

As far as Brit and Jim — do they really get back together? Haven't a clue. The ending just let me have my characters use their PDAs again!

For those folks who want lots and lots of details and motives and the like — I was trying to keep this as short as possible, and I am chagrinned that even a simple little story like this took me 5000 words to write. I must be a long-winded git — just as my wife has been telling me all these years!

TTFN

PostScriptor