On Changing Ground Pt. 01

I stood by the door and bade my team a bittersweet farewell. They looked lost. I understood exactly how they felt.

Finally it was down to myself and Jane. She regarded me with a sad smile.

"You'll be fine, you know," she said.

"I know. I had a great teacher."

"The teacher's only as good as the student."

Same old Jane. She still couldn't take a compliment.

"I fought for you," she said, looking away from me. "I fought for all of them. But especially for you. You deserve better than this."

Her voice trailed off, and the first cracks in her confident veneer began to show.

My head spun. I had never seen her so shaken. So broken. After all these years, I guess she was human after all.

"It's ok," I said. "I just hope they don't do this to you."

"They will," she said. "As soon as the new team is trained, they will."

I approached her, mustering what little energy I could into a formidable display of confidence. I extended my hand. "In that case... may we never be in competition for the same job. I wouldn't stand a chance."

Jane blinked away the traces of tears that were forming and straightened her back again. She answered my handshake with a firm grip of her own.

"Damn right you wouldn't," she said.

Our firm handshake gave way to a friendly embrace. She clapped my back.

"Take care," she said.

"You too, boss. You too."

**********

I remember almost nothing about how I came to be back in my office. I have vague memories of a dazed stroll down suffocating hallways. I sat down in my chair, my mind racing to form a plan. Jane had given us a small window of opportunity. I checked to see if my network account was still valid.

It was. Jane had pulled some serious strings. I logged in and quickly deleted every bit of data I had stored locally and on my network drives - including recent testing metrics that were not stored anywhere else. If Jane was right about being laid off after the training was complete, I intended to give her as much time as I could so she could find more work. The absence of these files would set the project back at least two months.

I wish I could say I felt better after the vengeful housecleaning, but I didn't. I felt worse. I wanted to crawl into the sewer drains in front of the parking garage and fade away into nothing. Even the comforting leather interior of my Xj220 offered me no comfort. I placed the box full of my belongings on the passenger seat, then slid behind the wheel. I couldn't find the wherewithal to turn the key. I simply held it and was content to do so.

Hoping I would at least be afforded the dignity of a pleasant drive home, I grew even more frustrated with the appearance of an unscheduled construction area. As I sat, trapped, unable to move, my mind raced. I had no job. No job. For the first time since I was old enough to work, I would not have an income. The company was "gracious" enough to pay our salary for the rest of the month in one big lump sum, but once that was gone I was in trouble. The market wasn't good right now. Finding new work for which I was qualified would be a challenge. The thought of applying for unemployment compensation made me sick to my stomach. But if I didn't - well, odds were that the vacation I had been so excited about would never happen. Tina would be crestfallen.

The dark clouds that had been threatening to open up finally did so, dumping untold gallons of water down in a matter of seconds. I quickly pulled the sun roof closed and wondered if perhaps this were someone's idea of a joke. I hadn't seen this many cliche's at once since the last time I tried watching something on television, which had been months ago. I had no need for moronic "reality" shows or hospital dramas or whatever the latest fad was. My viewing was limited to the various news channels, most often just to check on my stock prices.

I tried calling Tina as soon as I got on the parkway, but she didn't answer. I tried again, twice. Still no answer. I grew concerned. At the rate this day had gone downhill, I fully expected the worst when I got home. My mind started wandering. Tina left the door unlocked all the time. Could someone have broken in and...?

No. There was no use thinking that way. I fought to regain control of my thought process. Tina was home, she was probably just in the shower.

**********

I rounded the corner to our apartment and found another car sitting in my reserved space. Swearing under my breath, I drove around the corner to the guest parking. I left my box in the car so it didn't get wet and ran through the torrential downpour to our private entrance.

The door was locked, which is very unusual. Tina never left doors unlocked, for any reason. More than once I had to get out of bed to lock the door because she forgot. I quickly pushed the key in and turned. Not two steps into my apartment, I tripped over a pair of shoes. I didn't even need to see them to know they weren't Tina's. They were far too large for her dainty feet, and not quite large enough for mine.

Even as the reality settled in - even as I began to hear the faint groans emanating from the closed bedroom - I refused to accept it. I ignored the shoes. They did not fit in with my view of the world - or at least, my view of my wife - and therefore they could not logically exist. They were useless data bits that had no place in my mind.

I walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. I removed a bottle of Killian's, twisted off the cap, and drank deeply. With every gulp and swallow, I heard the sounds of my wife almost screaming in ecstasy. But that didn't make sense. She was my wife, and I was in the kitchen. Therefore, she couldn't possibly be screaming in ecstasy. I must have been subconsciously remembering the previous night. Surely that was it.

When I let go of the beer bottle it was almost empty. I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and started off toward the bedroom. It was locked.

"Tina," I called.

Everything got a little blurry. I might have heard some frantic shuffling on the other side of the door. I might have heard a deep voice asking about his shoes and being told in a harsh whisper to forget the damn things. I might have heard the window slide open - or perhaps closed, since I had left it open this morning. I might have heard these things, or I might not have.

The door knob shook and I opened the door. I found Tina sitting down at the vanity, brushing her hair. Her cheeks were red. Her breathing was heavy. Our sheets were in a pile on the floor next to the bed.

"What are you doing home?" she asked. She might have said it defensively.

"Why were all the doors locked?" I asked. "You never lock the doors."

Tina looked away. She pulled her robe tightly around her and continued brushing her hair. "There was something on the news about someone the police are after. Kind of freaked me out."

I sat down on the bed. Tina's back was to me, but I could see her reflection. Even there, she refused to make eye contact.

"I didn't think you did laundry on Fridays."

"Well, I thought the sheets could use changed. Especially after last night."

"I see. So you were rolling around in here moaning and screaming on a bed with no sheets. Even if you were alone, it kind of defeats the purpose of changing the sheets, don't you think?"

I heard a noise in the living room. I was on my feet in seconds, but seconds weren't good enough. The door slammed by the time I reached it. By the time I got it open and ran outside, I was met with the revving engine of the car that had taken my parking space. The car sped away, leaving skid marks across the pavement. Enraged, I grabbed a nearby stone and hurled it at him. It smashed into his rear window, leaving a sizeable crack that would likely spider out in a few days.

Back in the house, I stormed into the bedroom and slammed my first on the vanity.

"Who was he?" I demanded. "Who was he!?"

Tina could not answer. She stared blankly into the mirror. I grew angry. Enraged. I balled my hands into fists and with a feral cry, I unleashed my fury on the wall next to me. My first sank in almost to my elbow. The sting of rent flesh brought a touch of reason to the fog of anger in which I was engulfed. I withdrew my bloodied hand and found Tina staring at me in the mirror. The glass reflected the fear in her eyes. It made me sick to my stomach.

"Why?" I asked hoarsely.

Tina stood and faced me with such ferocity behind her eyes, I wondered if she had planned this speech. "Because last night was the first time we've been together in TWO MONTHS! Because you care more about your stupid job than you care about this marriage! You'd rather spend the night in an office than come home to me in our bed! And on those rare nights when you ARE here before I go to bed, you spend the whole night either buried in the newspaper or on the internet!"

I bore her rage with as much patience as I could. I had, after all, earned every word of it. When she finally turned away, it took me a minute to gather my thoughts.

"We made a choice," I said. "We made a commitment to each other."

She spun around again. "Yes. WE did. But then YOU made another choice: to put your job first. You broke that commitment first, Nick. You did. What else did you expect?"

**********

"Maybe she's right," I said before throwing back my ninth beer of the night.

The bar was uncomfortably crowded, even at this late hour. Or was that early hour? I had stopped watching the clock.

Across from me sat Kyle. He had been my friend and companion since my early days at the company. He was someone I felt I could rely on, a friend to be trusted in all things. I had asked him to join my team, but he had politely declined. Whether it was due to disinterest or an incredible foresight was quite beyond my knowledge.

He looked at me through pensive eyes. "You need to slow down," he said. "You're going to get sick."

"It's all part of the plan," I said. "I'm going to get so drunk I have no choice but to drink here."

Kyle's eyebrow shot up.

"I just said 'drink here' didn't I?"

"Yeah."

"Sleep! I'm going to sleep here!"

"Right," Kyle said. "Look, stop beating yourself up over this. Even if she had problems with what you were doing, she should have tried to talk to you about them. She didn't do that. So it's not just your fault."

That thought hadn't occurred to me before. I could at least understand why she was upset. I'd known about it for awhile. But why hadn't she come to me to talk about it? Or had she, and I just didn't realize it? Was I really that self-obsessed?

"Why don't you let me drive you home?" Kyle asked.

"I'm not going back there."

"You can't sleep here, Nick. At least come to my place."

"Yeah, all right."

I finished my drink, threw some money on the table, and stood up. I had barely begun to reach for my coat when I saw a very familiar pair of boots walk in. The crowded bar virtually parted to give these boots some space. When she finally cleared the crowd, I couldn't help but grin. Becky left a swath of drooling drunkards in her wake as she approached the bar.

It might have been the beer or the stress or something else entirely, but the moment I saw Becky walk in I had no plans on leaving that bar.

"Thanks just the same," I said. "But I think I've got a good reason to stay."

Kyle followed my gaze. He was not impressed. "I don't think that's a good idea," he said. "Working late with her was half your problem."

"I never said she was mad about who I was working with," I snapped. "Besides, it doesn't matter. She made the choice. You just said it yourself."

"Nick..."

"Go!" I said, a little more harshly than I intended. Kyle stared at me for a moment, then turned and walked away. For a moment, I wanted to call him back and apologize. That moment was long forgotten the second I saw Becky again.

I didn't know what to expect, but I walked to her side. The seats next to her filled up quickly. She didn't seem to mind the attention. She bartender placed a strawberry daiquiri in front of her. I slid up next to her, blocking one of the guys who looked ready to speak to her.

"I've got this one," I told the bartender. "Put it on my tab."

Becky's eyes lit up when she saw me standing next to her.

"Nick! Oh my god!" She embraced me briefly. "I guess we had the same idea, huh?"

"Looks like it," I said. "I've got a table over there if you want to join me."

"Wouldn't miss it," she said.

**********

Midnight was fast approaching, but time had lost all meaning since I had invited Becky to my table. Our chatter was inane, and we both knew it. On some level, neither of us really wanted to admit what had happened, much less discuss it openly. And so deeper into our cups we went, talking about all things irrelevant and mundane. Movie likes and dislikes, favorite board games, the absurdity of dressing up pets, first drinks (type, age, and location), and, presently, first kisses.

"I was fourteen," I said. She was maybe two years younger."

"You cradle robber," she laughed, thrusting aside another empty glass and motioning for what must have been her fourth daiquiri.

"Hey, you're what, four years younger?" I asked.

"Three," Becky said. Her eyes narrowed. "But to the best of my knowledge, you've never kissed me."

"Can I continue now? Thanks. Anyway, it was probably around 9:00 or so. We were at a wedding for someone on my side - I can't remember who. We found this stairway off the room where the dance floor was and just went up there and sat and talked. She made a comment about her sister would be teasing her if she knew she was up there. I said something like, maybe we should give them something to talk about then. She leaned in before I could even react and there you go."

"Aw," Becky said. "How cute. Did you slip her the tongue?"

"Maybe."

"You dirty old bastard!" she laughed, reaching across the table and slapping my hand. It was the first time we had that kind of contact: bare skin to bare skin. Sure we hugged once in awhile, but this was different and it felt different. Like touching a doorknob after building up a static electricity charge. Judging from the slight awkwardness in her eyes, she felt it, too.

"Okay," I said. "Let's hear yours."

I was amused at how quickly her cheeks reddened. The waitress placed another drink in front of her and she quickly drank a third of it. "Fine," she said. "But no funny comments, ok? Mine is kind of unusual."

"I promise nothing," I said. "Now let's hear it."

"Fine. I was fifteen. My friend Stephanie was spending the night. I had a huge on this guy Rob, and he finally asked me out so we were talking about it like, all night. We were going on a date and I was really freaked out because I had never kissed a boy. So she said I should practice on my pillow. I can't believe I'm telling you this. This is so embarrassing."

She laughed and took another drink.

"You've got to finish now," I said. "Besides, everyone practiced on their pillows."

"That's not the part that's embarrassing," she said. Another drink and another deep breath and she was ready. "But I did do that a few times. It was so dumb, right? Pillows don't have lips so how was this good practice? So Stephanie goes, let's just practice together. She had a boyfriend and they hadn't kissed yet either, so she thought it'd be good for both of us, right? What do I know, I'm fifteen. So I agreed."

She must have noticed that my jaw was sitting on the table, because she immediately got squirmy. "What?" she asked.

"That's it? That's all I get?"

"What more do you want?"

"Did you slip her the tongue?"

She smiled. "No. But she slipped it to me."

"I can't believe I've known you for four years and I'm just now finding out about this," I said, acutely aware of the impact such a thought had on me.

"It's not exactly something I brag about," Becky said. "Why, does the thought of me kissing a girl get you going?"

I laughed. "I'm male, aren't I? Of course it does."

"In that case, we need to stop this line of questioning before we get to 'first sex experiences.' I need a LOT more booze to go there."

I could only shake my head in awe. "You've got quite a wild side, don't you?"

Becky flashed me a very naughty smile. "Maybe."

I wiped my moist forehead and summoned the waitress for another drink.

"I never would have imagined. Wow. Thanks for that - I really needed this kind of distraction today."

Becky's pleasant smile vanished. "Yeah. Me too," she said. "What did wifey say when you told her?"

Until that very moment, it had not even occurred to me that I never told Tina I had lost my job. I suddenly found the thought very funny, and started laughing with progressive hysteria. I felt Becky's eyes one me. Her gaze morphed from gratuitously shared laughter to utter confusion.

"Was it something I said?" she asked.

"I didn't tell her!" I laughed. "Isn't it great? I didn't tell her!"

"Um...yeah, I guess that's great," she said. "You're going to have to tell her at some point though, aren't you?"

My laughter subsided, immediately replaced with a sorrow that almost as profound. "I don't know," I said. "I guess it depends on what happens next."

"Ok, Nick?" Becky began. "It may be because I'm definitely drunk probably... but I have no idea what you're talking about."

The truth of my situation seemed to chase away the inebriation. I waved down our waitress for another drink. "When I got home from work today, Tina was... I walked in on her having sex with someone else."

The color seemed to drain from Becky's face. "Oh my god, I am so sorry," she said. "Do you know who it was?"

"Nope. He slipped out the window on me. I tried to chase him down but he drove off."

"Did you get his plate number?"

His plate number. Why hadn't I thought of that? Oh right, blinding rage, hurling rocks, and complete denial. "Uh... no," I said. "I was too busy throwing rocks at him." I smiled and added, "Took out a chunk of his rear window."

Becky seemed almost as distraught as me. The sad eyes and frown lines didn't look good on her; I was used to seeing smiles and laughter light up her pretty features. "I'm so sorry," she said again. "I can't believe it."

"I appreciate it," I said. "I'll be fine, we just have to... figure out what's next."

Becky reached across the table and took my hands in hers. I felt it again - that jolt when we touched. "Listen, if you need to talk about it at all... I mean, I know I'm not one of your guy friends, so maybe it would be weird, but... I'm here."

I gave her hands a squeeze. "You're way better than my guy friends," I said. "I can talk to you and ogle you at the same time. Not so much with them."

Becky smiled, and the red returned to her cheeks. "Thanks," she said. "And for what it's worth - I never much cared for wifey anyway. Way too needy for someone like you. Definitely not your type."

My heart quickened. We were on uncertain ground here, and part of me didn't like it. Where was this conversation going? I was excited and dismayed by the potential answer. But the alcohol had impaired my reason. I was going on instinct, and my instinct told me to just go with it.

"I have a type?" I asked.

"Yes you do," she said with a sly grin. "You're a free spirit. You don't want to be tied down by a homebody. You need someone independent, who will take risks with you."

"Wow," I said. "You've put a lot of thought into this."

For a split second, her confidence faltered. Yet she appeared to gather herself and press onward anyway. "Don't flatter yourself" she said. "I've just got a talent for picking out personality traits."

"That's a useful talent."

"It's one among many," she said. She bit her lower lip and regarded me carefully.

"I'll be right back," she said. She rose up and walked away, disappearing behind me.