Mad Dog and the Dream Ch. 02

"I guess that explains the way that you walk."

Another laugh. "What kind of favor are we talking about?"

"I need your help. Tonight. But the mission is simple: you come over around five, bring your two favorite films and some beer, and we watch them."

"That's it?"

"That's the hard part, anyway."

There was a chuckle, though the man's voice was naturally so loud it sounded bigger than it was. That natural volume had served him well as a teacher. "Ron, are you buying friends now? That's so sad."

"Only this one time. The actual price of the ELMO, or most of the price, is that you never ask why."

"Is something wrong?"

Ron allowed himself a wry smile. "Yeah. I'm in big trouble. Like, mafia stuff. And the only way I can see out involves letting you force me to watch fucking Star Wars again."

"That's my kind of trouble. But what makes you think you can even promise me the ELMO? All that requisition stuff goes through Ellison's office."

"Bullshit. All we have to do is have you borrow it for, say, a week in September and a week in October. We do two weeks in November, three in December, and then we just keep it in your room after winter break. Principals stop in so rarely that when they ask, you'll say you're borrowing it, and by the next time they come in they'll have forgotten that it was ever not a part of your room. As for Ellison, there's no request needed for a lend. And when you put it on your inventory at the end of the year, and I leave it off mine, hey presto! The building totals will stay the same, and the end of the year forms never get looked at other than for tallying purposes. We head off for the summer having just begun creating a paper trail that connects the ELMO to your room. No administrators involved."

"And you're really willing to part with it?"

"If your wife will lend you out for the night."

"Fuck her. There's an ELMO at stake."

The two men laughed. Ron knew that, in truth, Mark Blum was totally whipped by his wife. She was nice, and clearly loved the man, but she was a bit possessive about those precious summer months together. That was why he had to offer the ELMO: he needed someone he could count on not to ask questions, and in order to get one he had to outbid Michelle Blum.

It was, truthfully, a high price to pay. Supplies for classrooms, especially technology, were hard to attain in the best of times. In economic downturns, they were literally impossible. But he couldn't think of anybody besides Mark that would work for his plan.

Ron did have other friends he could have called, some closer than Mark, but Mark had an advantage over all of them: although he and Ron hung out at work and occasionally went to the bar together, Maddy had never even met him. The few times he had actually been to the Melor place had all been times when Maddy was at work. This meant that he could play the part Ron had in mind, a character of sorts, and Maddy would never be the wiser. It also meant, Ron hoped, that since nobody involved would know who he really was he would not be traceable enough to face Andro's retributions, should they come.

It occurred to him that Mark would need to hide his car.

"One last thing," he said. "When you come, park around the corner from the house."

"So you need my help, but you're ashamed of me?"

"Nope."

"This really is sounding a bit like an affair. If I should be bringing a numbing agent, tell me now."

"No."

"Ron," the voice grew serious, "what is this? Really?"

"The deal was, no questions."

"Ron."

He sighed. He supposed that he was going to have to give some sort of story eventually, if he was going to get Mark to play his part later.

"My anniversary is next month," he said, realizing the fact almost as he was saying it. It made him sad to think about. "I'm planning something big for my wife. I've been dropping hints all over the place to throw her off, make her guess wrong, but she's relentless. I've worked really hard on it, and it's important that she not figure it out ahead of time."

"What is the big gift you're hiding?"

"Not telling."

"Where do I come into all this? Is it me? I'm the gift? Oh, I hope it's me."

"No! Fuck. Maddy doesn't know you. So you're going to be...let's say, acting a bit. You'll be playing a part for a scene I need her to see."

"Hmm. Well, alright. I'll do it. But only because I'm such an awesome guy."

"Good."

"So tell me what I have to do."

He told him, and, hanging up five minutes later, Ron grabbed his keys and headed out to the garage. He doubted his wife would be back home before five o'clock, but he had no intention of being there just in case. Besides, he had some errands to run.

Once in his car, with a soft splattering drizzle falling from an expressionless gray sky, his mind began to drift to the truths distilling within him. Truths about himself, about Maddy, about their future together and apart. He joined the rain, misting his eyes and cheeks. Maybe he was one of the bad guys...he was certainly starting to think so...but he did love that woman as strongly and honestly as any good guy ever could. That was his truth, and he named it so that it might grow stronger and survive.

He still had hope for it.

But now, right now, as he hatched hopeless, ineffectual plots, Maddy was taking that hope away from him. Right now, she was with Andro. Alone.

Heated images, painful to touch, flew at him. They steamed up his brain and made clear thinking an impossibility.

Maddy, her eyes closed contentedly, lying sweat-sheened and pink in a bed beside Andro.

Moments before, her legs wrapped around his body as her hips flexed, pelvis pushing upwards to meet his thrust. To not only grant, but plead for his deepest entry.

Much later, her body clothed and swollen with child. Her skin glowing proudly. Her eyes turned up to the tall man with deep affection.

He slammed his fist down on the steering wheel. Why?! Why was it so easy for her to turn away from him? To dismiss him? Had she always been capable of it? Had she only lacked the impetus? Or was Andro that heavy an influence? Had he redefined her to fit his wants, the way he had redefined Ron and Larry?

He thought about the events of the last few hours. Trading jokes with Mark had been therapeutic for its casual normalcy, but it couldn't dull the exposed nerve slap that whipped through him as he remembered the sound of her voice from around the corner as she confided quietly in Andro. Soft, and pleading, open and affectionate. Or the indignation she so lazily threw his way when his frustration overthrew his self-control, and he snapped at her. It was that righteous how-dare-you that belied the known facts: she had indeed met with Andro on several occasions without telling her husband, and she apparently continued to do so.

Who was this woman?

It was a sick twist to the storyline of his life, that Ron should suddenly feel as though Maddy was the one who had deceived him...as though she were somebody other than the woman he thought he'd married. All this time he'd harbored his precious little guilt, learning to control and ignore it. All this time he'd been the one with the secret.

Now he wondered.

Did Maddy Melor wear a mask, just as her husband did? Or was she something worse?

"If she doesn't know you, then who did she marry?" Andro had wondered. "Maybe she's not married at all."

The time was one-fifteen. Maddy and Andro had been alone, now, for about one hour. Ron tried not to wonder where they were, or what they were doing.

But it was hard to stop.

He had his errands finished by two, and could have headed home, but he needed to not be there yet in case Maddy returned. He went to Borders, and stared at a book without reading it on the couch for a while, then browsed at Home Depot before heading home. It was almost five when he pulled into the driveway. Just as he'd suspected, Maddy was still missing. Maybe she'd come and gone again, but he doubted it. There was no sign that anybody had been there since he'd left.

Mark showed up fifteen minutes late. Maddy had been alone with Andro for five hours.

It had, briefly, occurred to Ron to wonder if Andro might harm her. He doubted that the tall man would feel little in the way of guilt about it. But there was nothing he could do, if that were the case. All he could do was plan for the known, and hope for the best. Anyway, while Andro might appear to be the very definition of loose cannon, Ron thought that this might be one subject upon which he was nearly, if not totally, predictable.

He did think back on Tony's wife, on the hard sympathy in Andro's eyes at the sight of the ruined woman. Then he thought of Larry. He offered a little prayer for both.

Once they had reviewed the plan, Ron supplying Mark with the materials needed for his part, the two men retreated to the basement den to watch their movies. They kept the volume a little lower than usual, in order to both mask the sound from traveling upstairs and to make it possible to hear the door close when Maddy returned.

The films went by at a snails pace for Ron, who watched the clock above the TV as much as the screen itself.

It was eight-thirty before Maddy got home. Eight hours after she walked out the door without goodbye, and got into Andro's car.

As soon as Ron and Mark heard the door shut, they killed the movie. Upstairs, Ron heard Maddy calling his name. He didn't answer. Mark threw the films into the pitch-black backpack Ron had given him, and they put their shoes on.

"Do we go right up?" Mark asked, a smile on his face. For the first time Ron thought about the sick game he'd made the poor guy a part of, and felt real guilt. He had no idea of the danger involved.

"I do," Ron said. "You don't. If I cough, you follow. If I don't, you stay." He'd only heard one set of footsteps, but for Mark's sake he would make sure that Andro was gone before calling him up.

Climbing the stairs into the foyer, he saw Mady's shoes set by the closed door. She called his name again, this time from the bedroom area. He peaked out the window and saw nothing...no sign of Andro whatsoever. He coughed.

Like a royal decree, the cough sent both Mark and Maddy moving in his direction. Maddy was further away, but she was near-scurrying, moving much faster. Still, it was pure serendipity that they should reach him at the same time. Really, Ron couldn't have asked for better results: Maddy hurried out into the entryway and moved to throw her arms around her husband, only to be brought up short as she saw a strange man climb up the stairs to stand next to him.

She looked back and forth between the two men, no recognition in her eyes. That was good...Ron had told a few small stories about Mark, over the years, but had hoped that she wouldn't make the connection.

"H..hi, honey," she said awkwardly.

Ron nodded to her, said hello, and turned to Mark. "You were saying, before?"

Mark, in spite of his role, couldn't help grinning. And why not? After all, he thought he was part of some big high stakes shot at a 'husband of the year' award. Ron wondered how Maddy would take that smile, though, as this progressed. "I got what you wanted, no trouble," he said, opening his backpack and removing a manila envelope. "They made it real easy."

Ron nodded solemnly. "I thought they might. And it's both of them? There's no mistaking?"

Mark shook his head, grin expanding. "No way, man. I'm good at what I do. I take pictures like these all the time. And, like I said, they made it real easy." His eyes flickered to Maddy, an innocent moment of breaking character that she read completely differently. It obviously made her more nervous, and that pleased Ron to no end.

"Alright, what do I owe you?" he asked, fishing into his pocket.

Mark held up his hands. "What you've already paid."

"That's generous."

Mark shrugged. "Well, see if you still feel that way when you see my work." In the directions Ron had given him, this statement was designed as a self-deprecating joke. It had been important to Ron that Mark say it, though, because he knew that in Maddy's interpretation it would mean something else entirely.

Ron nodded, opening the door and patting his friend on the shoulder. "Thank you," he said. "For everything."

As he shut the door after him, he saw Mark give him two big thumbs up.

And when he turned around, he saw Maddy watching him, studying his face. There was fear in her eyes. She didn't even try to hide it.

"Who was that?" she asked in a voice that didn't even remotely pass for casual.

Ron shrugged. "Just a guy doing me a favor."

"He said there were pictures. What are they of?"

He shrugged. "Just pictures."

"Is it for school?"

Ron gave her a hard look, not responding, and he saw her eyes widen. It was almost-imperceptible, but it was there. Then, he walked right past her and down the hall.

"Ron?" she called after him, but she didn't give chase as he went into the guest bedroom and shut the door, locking it.

He sat down on the bed, suddenly exhausted. He couldn't sleep, not yet, but for a few seconds the weight of everything fell upon him. The memories of the last five days drew a curtain over what had been his momentary good mood. He thought about his ineffectual posturing, his attempt to scare his wife into reevaluating her actions. Helplessness and self-ridicule swelled up in his chest.

Then, Maddy tried to open the door. She called his name, knocked, and stood silently for a few suspended minutes before walking away. As she left, he heard a sniffle.

And just like that, the weight was gone.

He was getting to her.

Listening more carefully, he heard her make a phone call in the kitchen. Her voice sounded anxious. It raised in volume a few times, but never so that he could make out any words. He checked his watch. Almost nine. The whole world was waiting for something, it just didn't know it.

It would have to wait a little longer.

Ron's breathing was shallow. He only moved to blink.

By ten o'clock Maddy was in their bedroom, the door shut and lights turned off. By eleven-thirty, Ron felt confident she was asleep.

One of the things he'd always loved about his house was that, because of the way it was put together, almost no noise from the garage trailed into the bedroom. That had been a boon to him on summer mornings, when Maddy worked early hours, and on the rare summer nights when he'd gotten home late from the bar.

Now, it he counted it among his assets again.

Slipping through and out of the house, he was soon driving down the highway. He listened idly to the sound of his supplies rolling around in his trunk as he headed towards part two of his little plan.

Night driving is a gift. It has a way of softening your troubles, of making them feel neutered. They become abstract shapes in the distance, harmless and safe for quiet reflection, rather than imminent dangers. Like the lights of cars on the other side of the divide that draw a line across your consciousness and are gone, the challenges in your life seem like little more than blurry objects speeding by. Although there was some small danger to the work with which he was engaged, Ron found that by the time he returned home a great calm had washed over him. No sooner had his head touched the unfamiliar pillow of the guest bed than he fell into a sleep that was like peaceful death.

Sunday morning, he awoke feeling a hopefulness that felt wholly unfamiliar. He had thought that the sight of Andro on his front door that first day had taken it away for good. As he showered and dressed, he tried to picture what this day might have in store. Good or bad, he knew an end of some sort was approaching. A storm was darkening the in the distance, and last night he had seeded the clouds. It would be better, when his last moments arrived, to know that they hadn't done so while he was kneeling in the dirt, crying into his gag.

"You might die today," he told his reflection in the bathroom mirror, "but at least you pulled the trigger."

Coming out into the kitchen he was surprised to find Maddy sitting in her chair, wearing her apple red robe and sipping a cup of coffee. Thick and blanket-like, the robe was something she usually saved for cooler winter mornings. Even then it rarely got much use; Maddy was such a morning person that she rarely needed any kind of comfort wear. It was almost ten o'clock right now. On a normal day off she would be showered and dressed, having already exercised or completed some leftover housework.

She looked up at him as he came into the room. Her expression was hurt, like a child who has been overly punished for a small mistake. He bit the inside of his lip. If she thought that playing the wounded woman was going to bring out the protective man in him, she was in for a disappointment. He made a point of not looking at her too long, but just glimpsing as he passed by to get a coffee cup from the cabinet.

"I missed you last night," she said. And then, when he didn't respond, she continued, "I wish you would talk to me."

"Are you sure you have the time for a conversation?" he said, without turning around. "It seemed like you had a lot you wanted to say yesterday, but then you just decided to run off on me instead."

"You were acting strange. I thought maybe we needed time to think."

"I was ready to listen. I just don't think you were ready to say what needed to be said."

"Don't make this about me, Ronald Melor!" she warned him. "Every time I try to find out why you've got such a stick up your ass, you try and turn it back on me. I've done nothing wrong, and I don't know why you keep talking to me like I should feel guilty about something."

He poured his cup, and took a tentative sip. "It wasn't so long ago, Maddy, that if one of us was upset about something the other was there for them, one hundred percent. We didn't get defensive, or angry at each other...we acted out of concern and care. And if either of us found out that something we'd done had upset the other, it mattered to us to make amends."

"That's true. You used to tell me what you were upset about, too. Now you sulk and refuse to tell me what's going on. You're still talking like I've done something wrong, but you won't tell me why. The truth is that you're the one who keeps acting guilty, and that scares me even more. Why don't you just say it, Ron? Say whatever it is you're just dying to say."

He turned around to face her, tempted to do just that. Hell, why not? After last night's actions, he was balancing on the edge of the knife anyway. He might as well tell her the truth, all of it.

But when he saw her face, he closed his mouth. She was looking up at him with a posture that demonstrated angry defiance, but the look in her eyes betrayed something worse. It was a curved, watery look...an emotional high tide. the same one she'd had the time she told him she'd accidentally thrown his box full of childhood photographs away during Spring cleaning. As soon as he saw it, and realized all the implications of it, the fight went out of him. He sagged against the counter top, crumpling. "Maddy," is all he could say.

Her face tensed, the corner of her mouth twitching in a desperate attempt to control her emotions, and then she started crying. "God damn you!" she blurted out as she ran from the room. He heard the bedroom door slam shut, and the lock click.

And that was it. There would be no more discussion.

Sad as it made him, he knew that it was just as well. There were other things to do, or there would be shortly. He dumped the rest of his coffee down the sink and started getting ready. No sooner had he brushed his teeth than the phone rang. He already knew what it was about.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Ron," Andro's voice said. "To the office. Now." And then he hung up.