Salting The Earth

"Great. Call me if you need to."

The file was a compilation of buy-out offers I'd received over the years. It had company bios and general overviews I'd had done. After reviewing the file for an hour or so, I did some digging online into the companies to ensure the information was still valid.

I composed an email letting them know that I was interested in hearing offers and was having a third-party evaluation conducted. After customizing each letter, I sent them off with information about Maddie Albright's company so they could do their due diligence.

Next, I called my doctor back. His receptionist put me on hold, and he picked up in a few minutes.

"Gordon, I sent you the information for the palliative care specialists. Did you get it?"

"I did, thanks. This is something different. Listen, under no circumstances is Molly to know anything about my condition. I'm not joking about this. We're friends, Jim, and I value that friendship, but there's no wriggle room here. I'm telling you as a patient that I expect complete confidentiality. If I need to get a lawyer involved, I will."

"That's... Look, your wishes will be respected, but I have to tell you, I think you're making a huge mistake."

"It's my mistake to make, doc. I appreciate the referrals."

By the time Saturday rolled around I had liquidated most of my assets. We still had our cars, my business, the home and our vacation condo in Honolulu. I was sitting on a huge chunk of cash and we hadn't even gotten to the large ticket items yet.

I'd texted Molly and told her that I'd be back on Wednesday. She texted back a simple "OK." How sweet. That was the loving wife I'd come to loathe over the previous week.

After dressing casually, I drove down to the VA to see Ekam. Half the parking lot was taken up by some sort of festival for vets and I did a walkthrough before going in for my appointment. They had live music, representatives from businesses and charities who had services for veterans and vendors giving away free food to those that served.

Seeing the sign for "Mookie's Hous of Taco's" I wondered where the missing "E" was and why they used an extra apostrophe. The vendors all had tip jars for customers who weren't veterans and I tipped heavy for a mango lassi from a place doing up samosas.

Listening to something called the Poplin Family Jug Band, I watched Mookie's operation. He had a huge sign advertising that he wasn't selling Dr. Pepper and a smaller sign listing his tacos and salsas. Every once in a while, he'd hug someone who approached and hand them a brown paper bag.

"They're veterans. He hooks them up with weed. He says it's some sort of super strain, but almost everyone selling in Colorado has been saying the same thing since 2012. But Mookie's the real deal. He gives it to them for free. He's got a soft spot for vets and old people. You're Dr. Gruwel's friend, right?"

Looking up at the security guard, I reached out my hand and we shook. "Yes, Gordon. Good to meet you."

"Try the tacos, Gordon. They're surprisingly good."

After buying six, I let one of Mookie's employees convince me to buy some of their cannabis salsa. I got two jars of the red and two jars of the tomatillo. When he looked over, I gave Mookie a thumbs up and stuffed two hundreds in the tip jar. I'm going to have to get rid of millions, I might as well start with someone who's looking after veterans and old people.

Two chicken and one carnitas for me and two sofritas and one bean for Ekam. I was concerned that he was going to need to ventilate his office if we went long. After getting two waters for 10 bucks in tips each, I made my way to the building. Halfway there, someone called my name.

"Gordon!"

Turning around, I saw Scott Billings jogging my way. Shifting the bags to my left hand, I extended my right. He looked good. I'd heard rumors that he'd fallen apart after his divorce and had dropped a lot of weight. Supposedly he'd been travelling, trying to find his way out of his mental morass.

I suddenly sympathized a great deal.

"Hey, Scott. Great to see you. You back in town now or just visiting?"

"Yeah, I'm back. Bought a new place and everything. I figured it was about time. My niece and nephew are getting older. I wanted to be with them for a while before they head off to college, you know? How about you? What've you been up to?"

"I uh, I'm selling the company. Maybe we can get lunch sometime and you can walk me through what you learned?"

"Yeah, sure." He gave me his card. "Call me. If I have plans, I'll clear the schedule. You here for the fair?"

"No, a friend of mine works here. Stopping in to say hi. You?"

"Yeah, sort of. You ever meet Liz Armigido? The lawyer? We're sort of seeing each other. Her niece is Shannon Poplin, of the Poplin Family Jug Band. Shannon and her dad play a lot of charity gigs, so we came down to support them. I'll let you get to your friend, but it was great seeing you. Give me a call."

"Sure. Great to see you too."

Seeing Scott made me think of Nancy, his ex, the former LPGA star. I hadn't thought of her in years and decided to Google her when I got back to the hotel.

Ekam seemed happy to see me, but that might have been due in part to my bringing food. We spoke for two hours and got into some deep shit that I'd have difficulty discussing with anyone else.

"Okay, Gordon, brass tacks time. For the majority of your marriage, Molly was a great wife and mother, right? This is the time of your life when you need her the most. Why not talk to her? Give her the opportunity to correct course and be with you for the time you have left. If she takes the opportunity, you win. She has a violent reintroduction to reality, gets to view what she's been doing and how it impacts the people she loves, and you have the woman you love with you for whatever time you have left. If she declines, you haven't lost anything. You're back in the position where you are now."

I looked at the floor for a full minute before grabbing my water bottle and taking a swig. "That's not going to happen. I... I just can't. The thought of going to sleep and knowing that the next day I was going to be with a woman who did this to me and our kids and she was now with me because I'm dying? No, I can't do it." I sighed and then looked him in the eyes. "I'm going to burn it all down and let her live in the smoldering ruins of what was once our life."

Leaning back in his chair, he looked me in the eye. "Poetic phrasing, I guess. Stupid, but poetic. So, you're planning on finding strength in your hatred? You really think that's a healthy approach?"

Smiling, I replied. "How healthy does it have to be? We don't really have to be concerned about long-term effects, do we? In six months, I'll be in a grave."

"My friend, forget reconciliation for now, you don't have to spend time with her. I can talk to you about coping techniques, warn you about what's going to come up for you emotionally, I can be there for you as a friend; but the single best thing I can do for you is to suggest that you find peace. Talk to her. Let her know what is happening and let her know you are aware of what she's been doing. Put it out there and see how she responds."

I think we both knew that I'd be ignoring that suggestion.

"I appreciate the advice, Ekam. What about the kids? How should I prepare them?"

We talked until it was dark out and I was exhausted by the time I went back to the hotel. I had room service deliver two bottled waters and two beers and made a call I'd been dreading.

"Hey, William, it's dad."

He laughed. "Even if I didn't recognize your voice, you name pops up on the phone. How you doing, Dad?"

"Missing you. You and your sister. Listen, if I send you a ticket, can you fly in and meet me at your sisters next weekend? I need to talk to you guys."

"Yeah, sure. I don't think I have anything going on. Everything okay?"

"Sure. Sure. It's all good."

"Dad, it doesn't sound like everything is good. What aren't you telling me?"

"I need to talk to the two of you about some business stuff. I just have a lot on my mind. I'll send you the info on the ticket, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Dad? I love you. You can call and talk whenever you want, you know that right?"

"I do. I love you too. You and your sister are the best things in my life. Have a great night, William."

After hanging up, I lay down and stared at the ceiling. He'd been a great kid. At least once a week I'd thought William was going to break his neck. Even as a child, he rode his bike like a maniac. Then he got into skateboarding and I'd take him to skateparks and make him wear his helmet and pads. I would have preferred full-body, industrial bubble-wrap, but I took what I could get.

He was a man now. After another 20 minutes of feeling sorry for myself, I decided to make some videos offering him whatever advice I could that he could play at seminal times in his life. How to tell if a woman was the one. Actually, any advice I had in that area would be suspect. How to get past the early hurdles in a marriage. What to do about the sheer panic when you find out you're going to be a father.

My kids and some close friends were all that I cared about. I had less than six months to do what I could for them, and I was going to use that time wisely. I'd look into an irrevocable trust for the kids that Molly couldn't touch. If that wasn't feasible, I'd just buy as much gold as possible and have it shipped to them in three years.

What could Molly do, have her lawyer send me threatening letters? Unless Charon carries the mail, the USPS would have difficulty delivering them where I was going to be. Fuck her.

Maybe I was just delusional, but I thought that I had so much anger built up that I wouldn't be hurt. The investigators were sending me daily briefings along with photos. I'd ignored them up until now, but I opened the emails, and then the attachments. The anger didn't help.

The written summaries were dry and clinical. The photos felt like someone was lancing my soul. There was no bravado, there was no extra anger; there was just a sense of incalculable loss. I didn't realize I was crying until I felt the tears sliding down my cheeks.

Stripping down to my underwear, I got under the covers and quickly fell asleep.

The morning didn't find me as energized as the previous few had. Still, I had purpose, and that drove me. Sitting in front of my laptop I went through twenty or thirty options before I came up with something I was happy with.

Hugs. Nothing free gives so much to someone else. Give one today.

It had to be something that was inoffensively stupid and saccharine sweet. I wasn't a creative guy, but I thought that filled the bill. Colorado State University supposedly had a good art program. Parking on campus, I asked a few students where the graphic students had classes and headed that way.

Stopping at every bulletin board, I found seven ads from students looking for freelance work. Some had those little tabs you pull off the bottom of the sheet with email and phone numbers, but I just used my phone to take a picture of each ad. Happy to get that accomplished so quickly, I stopped at an on-campus sandwich shop.

The line was long, but it moved quickly. Getting up to the cashier before fully reading the menu, I questioned the young man.

"Do you have a turkey wrap with avocado?"

"Sure do. Bacon and tomato?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Tofu bacon?"

Peeling my eyes from the photos and menu on the signs over his head, I looked at him and smiled. "I'll take the real thing, and add extra bacon, okay? And mayo. Lots of mayo."

"Your funeral, man."

I actually laughed. "That's not what's going to kill me, son."

Grabbing a juice to go with my wrap, I paid him, put a twenty in the tip jar and went out to find a bench. Composing my email while I ate, I referred to the photos for the various addresses and sent if off.

Hola Compadres!

I'd like to hire you for an art project. Please respond with your price quotes. If it's reasonable, you're hired. I don't need to see samples. If I like your work, you'll have a second commission within a week.

I need a collage of people hugging. It should represent every option possible. Old people hugging young people. Handicapped people hugging athletes. Biker looking guys and hippies. Men and men, women and men, women and women. Go crazy!

It has to be wholesome and it has to be scalable. It's going to be a billboard. Here's the text that should be the centerpiece: Hugs. Nothing free gives so much to someone else. Give one today.

By the time I got to the ad agency that rented billboard space in the area I wanted, I had price quotes from five of the seven. I agreed to the price of each proposal. It took some haggling, but I got three of the four billboards I wanted. By the time I was done with the meeting, the final two quotes came in. I accepted both of those as well.

Demanding a quick turn-around, I had six samples for approval the next day. I approved them all and paid them fifty percent more than what they asked. What the hell, they were college students and I needed to get rid of the money.

The ones that I liked the most got their creators a call-back and an order for another image. This one was a little different.

Two days later I was sitting in a parking lot eating some chocolate chip cookies and drinking ice cold milk. I'd been having nostalgic cravings for food I'd enjoyed as a child and there really wasn't much sense in being overly concerned about my diet.

They were pretty quick. My ad went up on the billboard in less than two hours. They had a four-man crew and a supervisor. When they were done, I got out of the car and approached one of the crew.

"Hey, you guys did that pretty quick. I always assumed it was a big project to put one those things up."

A short wiry man, he looked me up and down before replying. "Nah, not a big deal. They come in strips. Keep 'em straight and a monkey could do it."

"I think you're being modest. Listen, I'd like to ask a few questions about how this works. I'll give you $500 for some of your time."

When we were done talking and after he called some of the men he worked with, we had a deal in place. $2,000 per man and $2,500 for himself and I had a crew that would put up whatever I wanted.

The graphics company gave me a 24-hour turn-around if I was willing to pay extra. I was.

My loving wife texted me twice letting me know she was home and asking where I was. I didn't respond. If she called the kids and they called me, I'd have to explain over the phone what I wanted to explain in person. I was banking on her indifference.

Within 48 hours, the new billboard was up. We had worked overnight. Okay, they did the work and I watched with glee. We were three blocks from his office. The new billboard had a photo of the chiropractor kissing my wife. Running under the photo was a line of text.

Dr. Arnold Frost is my wife's chiropractor. Her back wasn't the only thing he was adjusting. www.FrostingMyPatients.com

The website was set up and supposedly untraceable back to me. I didn't really care. This whole dying thing was very freeing.

It took longer than I expected, but I received a phone call after lunch.

"Mr. Cordel, this is Fred Banks with Sunrise Advertising. There's been a, uhm, incident with one of your billboards."

Pretending to be outraged, I demanded to know what he was planning on doing. He assured me that the new image would be down by that evening and my original image would be back up.

Two days later the process repeated itself on another of my billboards, this one was two blocks from his office.

They apologized profusely. Eventually, they must have realized that the woman was my wife and cancelled my contract after the third billboard had been changed over.

My P.A. called to tell me that she had received calls from a law firm looking for me. It seems that Dr. Frost was having a few difficulties in the community. I guess he wanted to sue me or something. It was all over social media and the local news had covered the story numerous times. Traffic on the website was through the roof.

Molly called and texted repeatedly. How wonderful it was to again have her undivided attention.

The huge fancy house in the better neighborhood with the better school district that my wife needed to feel better about herself had belonged to my parents. After buying a condo in Miami and another in San Francisco, they downsized and bought a third here in Pueblo. They sold me the house for a song.

Everything was in my name and I took out a huge mortgage. It was going to take about a month for everything to go through, but I had a month; no problem.

My meeting with the kids was on Saturday and on Friday I met Scott Billings for dinner. I was hoping to pick his brain about the sale of his company. We were in the same general field and his advice would be appreciated. He wound up bringing the woman he was seeing, which was a surprise.

When I stood to shake his hand, he reached out and hugged me. That was another surprise. We'd never been that close. Our relationship had always been where we'd see each other at professional events, charity dinners, occasional poker games and at the driving range where we'd chat while practicing our swings.

"So, you talking to anyone, Gordon?"

"Am I... you mean about the sale?"

He looked over at Liz, the woman he was with, and then back at me.

"Uhm, no. You realize that everyone knows, right? The billboards and everything? You seeing a counselor or anything?"

"Oh. Yeah. I guess I should have thought about that. I've sort of been isolated lately. No. I'm not really talking to anyone about that. Well, sort of actually, but not specifically about that."

Giving me a sad smile, he continued. "Okay. You may want to think about it. Did you ever have a chance to meet Liz? Pueblo's not a big town and we all travel in the same circles."

"No, not really. We probably met in passing a time or two. Liz Armigido, right? Gordon Cordel, nice to meet you." She had a firm handshake and her reputation preceded her. When she went swimming, sharks got out of her way. She was a powerhouse lawyer and if I ever needed a hired gun, I'd try to get her on my side.

She smiled at me. "Gordon, it seems as if the chiropractor is out for your head. There are rumors swirling about ethics charges, his partners want him out of his holistic healing practice and I'm sure patients are leaving in droves. He's going to try to sue you for everything you have."

"You've got to be kidding. You picked this up in three days?"

She continued. "Everyone knows everyone in Pueblo. Listen, you pay for dinner and I'll consider that my retainer. Let me shake some trees and see what falls out. I'll work cheap. You get me free, but you cover expenses for my investigators or anyone I need to hire. Deal?"

"I... Liz, I know who you are and how much you must charge. I'm a stranger. Why are you doing this for me?"

Losing the smile, she replied. "Cards on the table? I had a chance to step up and help my brother-in-law and didn't. He was getting completely railroaded and I let other... obligations hold me back. I've regretted it ever since. And you're not a stranger. You're a friend of Scott's, and that's good enough for me. Besides, Frost seems like a scumbag."

By the end of the evening I had told them about my diagnosis. Liz's brother-in-law had an aunt that was a private duty nurse and licensed dietician. She promised to get her contact info for me. Neither of us discussed how I would likely need full time care by the time I got to the end.

It took me a little over an hour to drive to my daughter's home the next day. She had moved back to the area the previous year and I was happy to have her close. William was already there when I arrived. After pulling into her driveway, I sat in the car and stared at her house, gathering both courage and energy.