I just have to stay calm and get my head together, nothings happened and even if it did, nothing I can't handle. I'm not the only one tired of Spencer's superior attitude, anyone could have done the porky little hippo tyrant in. I smiled to myself, if anything I should get a medal for even thinking about putting him in his place.
A glass of wine might help, but, first the flowers for my beautiful wife. I hid the flowers behind me and pulled Mary close for a quick kiss. "Surprise Darlin'", I said. "Oh they're beautiful, let me put them in a vase," Mary responded. I patted her on the backside as she headed to the sink and told her I'd start getting dinner ready. Of course dinner will have to start with a couple of glasses of wine.
I pulled off my tie, poured the wine, and started pulling out my conquest from the farmers market. Chilean sea bass coated with miso and a light tomato pasta alfredo would do the trick. I lit several candles even though it was still too bright for them and looked over at Mary. Even slightly ruffled after a long day, Mary still looked stunning as the afternoon light shone through the kitchen window and highlighted her auburn hair. I asked her about her day as I prepped dinner.
The rythm of Mary's voice as I cleaned the fish and rolled it in a light miso coating was almost hypnotic. I chopped the onions, sliced up some spicy sausage to add a little kick and started on the tomatoes. You have to have a very sharp knife for tomatoes otherwise you just crush them into a mess. A mess wouldn't do. One has to have respect for the food one makes, and clean, ordered and precise cuts are the only acceptable way to cut a tomato. I rolled the first tomato across the cutting board, savoring the feel of the skin under my fingers, almost like human flesh in texture, soft and yeilding yet plump and firm under the pressure of my hand. The first cut, clean and quick through the center of the tomato. Thin red juice coated the blade of my kitchen knife, almost like blood. Even in the bright light, the candles flickered and cast a shifting shadows along the edge of the blade. The juice dripping down the blade seemed to ebb and flow in the light. I was drawn to the edge of the blade, the honed perfection, the precise angle, sharper than a razor. I was suddenly possessed by an odd desire to make the next slice of the knife across the back of my hand, to feel my flesh part under cold mirror steel. I could see every hair on my hand, every crease in the skin, the blade so sharp I wouldn't even feel the cut right away.
Mary's voice startled me back to reality, "Is there something wrong Greg?", she asked. "No, nothing," I replied, "Just thinking, I'll finish up here if you want to get more comfortable." I put the knife aside and drank my glass of wine in a few quick gulps. A smaller knife was in order, "to hell with crushing the damn tomatoes" I thought to myself.
The rest of the meal proceeded flawlessly. The tender baked sea bass accented with fresh pasta; the fresh basil had been the perfect touch. Good food, conversation and great company, what more could you ask for. We never stood on formality around the house. Mary was wearing one of my blue dress shirts with a few buttons left undone and a pair of ratty old shorts. Sexy as hell really. I on the other hand looked like I'd just been tumbled in the dryer. I'd thrown on a t-shirt, but I still had on by dress work pants.
"Strange," I thought, looking at them now I have a dark stain down one of the legs. Tough to see on the dark grey fabric, but there nonetheless. I touched the stain and rubbed it between my fingers. Dirty, musty smelling, almost like... mop water? Just then
Mary grabbed my plate and headed for the kitchen. "How about a glass of scotch and we head out to the deck to enjoy the air,"she asked ,"I could do with a cigarette anyway."
2:14 AM – Most people get very sleepy after lovemaking and a hearty meal but not me. Sometimes I do but this was one of those nights where I was wide awake. Mary didn’t usually snore unless she had the flu or something. I walked down to the den to check my work email.
I checked our intranet’s homepage for the useless information that I am supposed to know but never really care about. Along with our stock quotes, new policies, and other blah blah blah…..there was this small article:
Spencer Copeland resigns as AVP
AVP Spencer Copeland who has been one of the critical components of our steady growth for the past seven years has unfortunately decided to resign his position. We wish him continued success in his future endeavors.
I stared at the words on the screen for a long time, trying to come up with different scenarios and conclusions. I would replay the events in my mind and start to second guess. I didn’t staple his ear but I have the stapler in my car. Why? Did I see him get a second donut? Did I want to leave because of what I did or what I thought about doing? Why was he resigning his position? He loved this company. Hell he practically “owned” this company with all of the schmoozing he did. I am scared to go in tomorrow but, if I don’t, I am afraid of what will happen.
I remember his address for the cookout he had last summer. It’s about 10 minutes away and I will just make sure his car is in the drive. I know this is crazy but I don’t know what else to do?
I had just started with the company when we went over to his place that summer so I didn’t really have an opinion formulated about him. I thought he was being nice and it was sort of a “welcome to the company” kind of thing. Spencer’s place was not as nice as I thought it would be but it wasn’t modest either. It was kind of gaudy. In his living room he had what appeared to be some expensive looking treasure chest type of trunks and on one of them was the actual price tag. This didn’t look to be an oversight but more so a display of “this is how much I would spend on a trunk”. It didn’t seem worth it.
“Hi, you must be Greg! I’m Allison.”
“Hi, this is my wife Mary.”
“Hi Mary, let me get you a drink. Spence is out back being the master of the grill. Make yourselves at home.”
As Allison scurried off to fetch a drink that she didn’t even bother to ask what type of drink we wanted, I couldn’t help but wonder if I made a mistake taking this job? I mean everybody seemed nice and everything but I just felt so weird. Mary clung to my arm as we made our way to the backyard. From a distance, John gave me a greeting salute with his beer can. Not armed with one myself, I still attempted to make the same awkward gesture.
Allison returned with what seemed to be some type of martini for both of us. “Here you go, I make the best apple martinis you will love it”. I thought it was somewhat presumptuous to hand someone you never met a drink they may not like. If anything, it was weird not to initially ask but we took our drinks graciously and figure we will dump them out later.
“Honey!”, she screamed across the backyard to Spencer. “New arrivals are here!”
Spencer looked up from his grill with beads of sweat dropping on the cooking meat. “Hey Greg!” He ushered me over with a wave of his cooking fork.
“Mary?”, Allison separated her from me and had her arm. “I have just had our family room redone and I would love to get someone’s perspective from a fresh point of view”. Mary looked back at me as if she was saying, “She’s kind of ‘Stepford Wife psycho’, isn’t she” but continued on.