Quiet Resolve

Marsha was surprised to see me when I came home for lunch later. I wanted to be there when the mail was delivered. She seemed happy for the company, and made us some grilled cheese sandwiches. I tried my best to make polite conversation until the mail came.

She noticed the Priority Package and commented on it. I told her it was a removable hard drive that I had ordered to back up the computers. She accepted the answer and I left smiling. For the next hour, I carefully read all of the installation and operating instructions for my new GPS tracker. It was going to be fun. I planned it that way.

That evening, while Marsha was cleaning up the supper dishes, I installed the new tracking device in her car. It was easier than I had anticipated. I had already installed the monitoring unit in my car earlier.

I was looking forward to the weekend. If everything went as planned, I would be able to attend my travel show in Philly with no problem.

Brandy and Brenda were watching Shrek for the tenth time and Marsha was halfway through the latest Danielle Steele novel. I just sat and wondered what might have been if the situation had been a little different. I thought that I had what most men wanted and then I discovered that it was all a farce. It was like a cruel joke and I was the punch line. I would have been happy with the situation the way that it was, but that never would have happened under normal circumstances. Marsha was not the wife who I always dreamed of having. She put out some bait and I grabbed it because I wanted it.

It hurt knowing that she didn't want me. She wanted what I could do for her. I still was not able to figure out exactly what that was. Hamilton Ryder could have just put Marsha and the girls up in an apartment or condo someplace. Why did the two of them feel that it was necessary to use me, in this elaborate scheme?

I imagined that she had some feelings for me, but if that was so, she would have realized how much I would have been hurt when the truth came out. She didn't care. It became apparent that I was disposable. The more that I thought about it, the madder I became. I excused myself, claiming a headache and went to bed early. I was still awake when Marsha slid in beside me, but I didn't let her know that.

The next morning I spent most of my time in Seymour's office. He had let his girl have the day off. I spent an hour making copies of the papers that Seymour had drawn up on the computer and two more hours collating and putting them in mailing envelopes. Seymour had made shipping labels to all of the local newspapers and television stations and several of the national ones. It was all pure crap. I knew it and Seymour knew it, but the media would eat it up; we hoped. He also made labels for all state legislators and for everyone in Hamilton's family and the Wilcox family that we could get addresses for. I was expecting to get sued and I didn't care.

I was anticipating the evening trip, even though it was no longer necessary. I was going to go ahead with the dastardly plan no matter what happened tonight. It was more for my self-satisfaction than anything else.

The GPS tracker was nice because it took a lot of pressure off the one doing the tracking. I used the drive up to the coal regions as a test run. I knew approximately where Marsha was going, which made it easier. I was expecting her to go to Mount Caramel, but she never did. She parked at a shotgun house in the middle of Frackville and let the girls out of the car. A lady that looked as if she was Marsha's sister came out of the house to greet them. It was like old home week. It was 'hello' and 'goodbye' all within five minutes.

An hour later, Marsha got off of the Interstate near Pocono Pines. The GPS took me to the Pocono New Moon Cabins. The actually cabins were not as I expected. All of them looked as if they should be on an Aspen Ski slope, not tucked in the Pennsylvania woods.

Marsha drove right past the office and went to the largest cabin at the end of the road. I was close behind, but instead of following her, I stopped at the front office. The desk clerk was very accommodating even though there were no vacancies for the night. I picked up a few brochures and indicated that I would like to look around the grounds a little bit before leaving. He smiled and thanked me for stopping in.

I casually walked down by the small lake that was in the center of the compound. Marsha was still sitting in her car. It looked as if she was on her cell phone. I got comfortable on one of the lake side benches and wished I hadn't left my jacket in the car.

About twenty minutes, later a black Mercedes Benz pulled along side Marsha's car. Hamilton Ryder and my wife got out of their cars at the same time. There was a quick peck of a kiss, like a married couple would do, and then they both went into the cabin.

My questions were mostly answered. There was no longer any doubt about what was going on. I still didn't know why, but I knew what. On the way back to the office I passed by their cars. Marsha had a small travel bag on the back seat. I contemplated taking it with me, but changed my mind at the last minute.

About half way home, my cell phone rang. It was my wife. I didn't answer and she chose not to leave a message. I assumed that she was just calling to let me know that everything was okay. I didn't care.

Saturday morning came and I was on the Schuylkill Expressway going to the National Travel Expo show. It cost me ten bucks to get in, but I didn't care. I had an idea in mind and it involved cruise ships. Almost all of the vendors at this show were directly interested in people who were wanting to be connected to some form to the travel world. Some were selling franchises and computer programs. A few of them were trying to recruit people. They were my target.

I was able to sit with employment representatives from three different cruise lines. Only one of them expressed any interest at all in a licensed certified fire alarm systems inspector. Two of them insisted on a Merchant Marine Certification; something that I hadn't anticipated. The third line, Mediterranean Holiday Lines, was only slightly interested until I mentioned that I was an accomplished ballroom dancer. For some reason, they seemed to think that was more important than my fire inspection qualifications.

I left the travel show a little dejected. I was hoping for a better response than I actually got. I didn't plan too well and the results proved it. At home that evening I got a surprise telephone call from Brandy and Brenda. Of course I didn't get to talk with Marsha, but the conversation with the girls seemed real and sincere. I didn't ask them where their mother was because I didn't want to ruin the moment.

Sunday morning I got a surprise call from the rep at Mediterranean Holiday Lines. They offered me a six month contract on one of their Mediterranean Island cruise ships. Although I was not qualified as a maritime inspector they would be able to use me as a records keeper and report generator. I wasn't sure what all that entailed, but they seemed fairly confident that I was up for the job. The big catch was that I had to spend my evenings dancing with the guests. Hundreds of elderly, single, women took the cruises every year and they all wanted handsome, charming men to dance with. I never considered myself as handsome and charming, but hell, I was willing to give it a try. I was expected to bring a formal black tux and a white tux jacket with me.

I accepted and within the hour they e-mailed an employment contract for my signature. They had already scheduled a flight out of Philadelphia for me the next Friday. The tickets would be waiting at the counter. I always knew that I had that passport for some reason.

That evening, Marsha seemed to be a little quieter than usual. Normally when she came back from the visits to 'her mother' she was peppy.

Friday seemed like a long time away. I realized that I was not going to be able to fake it for that long. I decided that Tuesday morning, while the girls were in school and Marsha was at the beauty salon, would be the best time to make my move.

Monday was a quite a busy day. I took all of the prepared envelopes, from Seymour's office down to the post office. The earliest that any of them would be delivered should be Wednesday. I gave Seymour five thousand dollars to cover his fees and expenses. After giving my notice at work, I spent the rest of the morning closing accounts.

One of the local tuxedo rental shops sold used outfits. Luckily, I was able to find two that actually fit. Since I needed a place to keep my new work clothes, I ended up renting a cheap motel room for four nights.

I drove by the house as Marsha was leaving. I had no idea where she was going, but I figured that I would take advantage of the opportunity. After loading all of my things in the car, I realized that I didn't actually own much. I felt a little sad as I drove down the street for the last time. I was going to miss married life, even though it was a farce. The girls and I never seemed to warm up to each other, but I knew that I would think about them. It was a sorry situation. I felt hurt and betrayed, but not enough to blow up. The only way out for me, was to quietly disappear.

I rented a storage unit and prepaid it for a year. Even though it was the smallest unit, the amount of stuff that I had looked pitiful.

That night, I went overboard at Taco Bell. I got all of the items on the menu that I had never tried before. I can't explain why I did it, except that I was feeling a little reckless. Of course, most of the tray went into the trash. I couldn't force myself to eat it all.

Later, sitting alone in the room, I was bored out of my head. Just on a whim, I called British Air. A very agreeable young lady was more than willing to move my Friday reservation to Tuesday. Friday was the busiest day for the airlines and Tuesday was a little slow.

Seymour drove me to the airport the next morning. He was going to keep my car for me while I was gone. I signed the title and told him that he could sell it if he could find a buyer. It was almost fifteen years old, so we both laughed when I suggested it.

The check-in went very smoothly, and then I found myself sitting on a long plastic bench watching the departure times change. I was totally surprised when my cell phone started to buzz. I forgot to turn it off.

"Dennis? Is this you? This is Brenda."

I was not expecting any calls, let alone that one. "Yes it is. Why are you calling?"

"Brandy and I wanted to say 'good-bye'. We were sorry when we found out that you left."

"Brenda, is your mother there?"

"No. She is in the bedroom. She has been there all morning."

I didn't know what to say.

"Dennis?"

"Yes?"

"Brandy and I wanted to let you know that we tried real hard not to be bad. Mommy said that it was important. We weren't bad, were we, Dennis?"

"No, Brenda. You and your sister were always perfect angels. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why did you leave?"

"I am sure that your mother would rather explain that to you. Did you ask her?"

"She has been in bed, crying since yesterday. We had to get our own breakfast."

I felt that I should talk to Marsha, but under the circumstances it didn't seem like a good idea.

"Dennis, If Brandy and I did anything bad, we are sorry. Can you come home?"

"I don't think so, Honey. I have to go away for awhile."

I could hear her crying on the other end of the phone. I was looking for a way to end the conversation without acting like a perfect jerk, when they announced the boarding for my flight.

"I have to go now. You take care of your sister and your mom, okay?"

I clicked off my phone before she could say anything else. Then I turned the phone off. I wouldn't be needing it for the next six months anyway.

I found my life on the cruise ship to be fascinating. In the mornings, I was working with one of the ship's engineers, and I spent every evening dancing with enthusiastic ladies. Some of them were young, but most of them were as old or older than my mother. Since I learned to dance with my mother, that made things a lot easier for me. I actually found it to be fun. Most of them did not speak English, so I did not have any heavy conversational demands put upon me. I got by very well with a smile and an occasional peck on the cheek at the end of a dance. They all seemed to enjoy that.

Things changed as I started on my fifth voyage. The first day out, I was informed that I would be dining at the Captains table that evening. The only crew members that ever got to sit with the Captain were high ranking. I was at the bottom of the food chain, so my invitation was unusual.

The only dress clothing that I had were my two tuxedo's. I usually ate in the crew mess and attire was not a factor. Since I had no idea about protocol or proper table manners, I waited until everyone else was seated, before approaching. An empty chair was waiting for me. I addressed the Captain, as expected, and then gingerly sat down. I was, to say the least, extremely uncomfortable.

I glanced around the table trying to figure out why I was there. On my left was a large, sweaty man who seemed to be speaking Greek. On my right was a well dressed lady, my age, who seemed vaguely familiar. When I glanced her way, she was looking slightly at me and smiling. I quickly looked away. As the meal was being served I tried to pay attention to what the guests were chatting about, but to no avail. I was a poor conversationalist to start with and the multiple languages didn't give me any confidence at all. This meal from hell would soon be done. I kept telling myself that; over and over.

As they were bringing the desert course, I felt a hand on my right arm. I turned my head and she started to speak. "Relax, Dennis. You seem awful tense."

No one had ever introduced me, yet she knew my name. I realized that this must be the connection; the reason that I am at the Captains table. Who was she? How did she know my name? What did she want? It wasn't mysterious and exciting. It was scary and unnerving. The meal from hell would be over soon. The meal from hell would be over soon!

When we finished, the guests started to wander off to do whatever they had scheduled. I was still sitting when the mysterious lady took my arm and walked me to one of the quiet bar areas. I was following her like a puppy dog and didn't know why.

"You have no idea who I am do you?"

I just nodded in the affirmative.

She laughed a little. "Imagine bleached, blond hair, lots of make-up, and big boobs."

"Oh my God. You're Dolly Parton."

My poor attempt at humor got me a poke in the ribs and another small laugh, more like a giggle.

"You are not paying attention, Dennis. Think."

I knew what the answer was, but knowing it just generated more questions.

"Emily Ryder?"

She smiled at my answer.

"I prefer to use my maiden name."

"Okay, Emily Wilcox?"

Neither of us said anything as a cute little Thai waitress set down our drinks.

"Mrs. Wilcox. I realize that we are sort of connected, but I don't understand how that would cause you to be here."

"Don't complicate things, Dennis. I am just here to thank you. You probably don't realize the impact that you have had on my life."

"Absolutely not. I never met you before, or have even seen you close up. Of course, you look a lot different than you did before."

"Good or Bad?"

"Good. Without a doubt, good."

"Thank you. Most of it was just hair and make-up."

At that moment she caught me looking at her breasts, or what used to be her breasts. She couldn't help laughing at my discomfort.

"The doctor put them in and the doctor took them out. I was never so happy to get rid of those damn melons. It made me feel like a freak."

I did not know what to say. Any comment would have sounded crude.

She continued with her explanation. "I simply had the double D's replaced with perky little B's. It took a little work, but he got paid well and I am happy."

I think I was blushing. There was a lull in the conversation, so we both took a sip of our drinks.

"Oh, before I forget. I have something for you." Emily reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope that had been folded in half to fit. She was smiling as she handed it to me.

"It's your marriage annulment. Daddy was able to get it processed with no problems. Not only are you not married, you never were. Isn't that great?"

Her words were bitter sweet. She seemed happier about the annulment than I was. It wasn't something that I wanted, but something that I felt I needed. I had gotten used to the idea of being married. I wanted to be married, but under different circumstances. I gave Emily a small smile and said, "Thank you."

"You don't sound very happy, Dennis."

"I am not. The whole situation was a little painful for me."

I waved to the waitress for two more drinks. I usually limit myself to one a night.

"I don't want to be poking my nose anywhere that it doesn't belong, but what is the status of your marriage? Are you, or will you be getting a divorce?"

Emily Wilcox squirmed a little, looked at her watch and smiled again.

"Dennis, in exactly twenty two minutes, I will be a widow."

It was an interesting statement. I tried to think of a clever response, but nothing developed. The impact of her statement finally reached my brain and I was numb. The waitress set down our round of drinks and mine was gone in one gulp.

"Don't look so shocked. It was a trade-off."

"What does that mean?"

"In seven more days, you. You were going to die in an automobile accident just South of Pottsville. Two days later, I was going to drown in a boating incident off of Long Island. It was all planned out."

The conversation was no longer light and casual. My drinking companion was no longer smiling, and the whole tone had become somber. I was absorbing the few bits of information that she had just given me and I started to feel nauseous.

"I am sorry, Mrs. Wilcox. I am afraid that this last drink was a little too much for me. Please excuse me." I got up and started to leave the room. She didn't try to stop me. I actually did feel upset in the stomach, but I don't think it was from the drinks.

I didn't sleep well that night. Rather than eat with the crew, I waited until the first breakfast seating and then located Emily. She was at a table alone; a luxury reserved for only the most affluent guests. The waiter recognized me in my work clothes, and we got a quizzical look. Emily nodded to indicate that it was okay.

She slid her full glass of orange juice across the table to me as a gesture of welcome.

"Are you a widow now?

Emily gave me a telex that had been on the seat beside her.

"Kingston, Jamaica. Hamilton Ryder, a Pennsylvania State politician, was killed today about thirty miles East of Montego Bay. No one else was hurt in the one car accident. Mister Ryder leaves a widow, Emily, but no children. Mrs. Ryder was not with her husband at the time of the accident. Hamilton Ryder had been a candidate for a U.S. Senate seat until allegations of impropriety mysteriously appeared several weeks ago."

I scanned through the rest of the message and was amazed at the impact that my silly little mailing endeavor had produced. The waiter set a small plate of fruit in front of me, which I started to pick at.

"What is going to happen to Marsha and the girls?"

"Nothing, Dennis. She was no longer involved. I guess you had no way of knowing."

"What do you mean?"

"Shortly before you left, you followed the two of them to a cabin in the Pocono's. Do you remember that?"

"Of course. How did you know this?"

"My father had the cabin bugged, and Hamilton was always followed. They used the same one each time that they met. You didn't stay long that day. Sometime, after you left, Hamilton and Marsha got into a big argument about what he had planned. Marsha decided that she did not want anything to happen to you. Hamilton insisted that they stick to the original plan, which was to kill both of us. She refused and stormed out of the cabin. She spent the rest of the weekend with her sister in Frackville."