Part 8

I went to bed fairly early that night. I don’t really know how I was able to fall asleep like I did, with my mind running in circles. Usually that keeps me awake, but maybe this time it was just too much and my mind went into overload and it knocked me out. I don’t know if that ends up being any better, it wasn’t like I got a restful kind of sleep. The word fitful comes to mind.

I had noticed when Ella got home, but I was in half a daze when she did so I didn’t bother to get up. In the morning when I was making coffee I noticed the pack of cigarettes still sitting on the table and figured I was in for a lecture. Leaving those out was a bit of an asshole move on my part. But getting a lecture was just demeaning. I don’t care if I deserved it.

When I heard Ella start coming down the stairs I knew I was in for it. If there is one thing I’ve learned from marrying somebody in the medical professions it’s that they really don’t like tobacco companies.

“Mornin,” she said.

“Good morning,” I said back.

“Sleep well?”

“Not really.”

“Didn’t think so.”

“No?” I asked.

“You were tossing all night, kept me up.”

“Shit, I’m sorry hon. It was a rough night.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Nothing to talk about. Got into it a bit with Mike, and, y’know, got a little worked up I guess. No biggie.”

“Hmm… no biggie,” she mused. “What was it about?”

“Couldn’t tell you what started it.”

“You don’t remember?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It was one of those conversations that kind of snowballed.”

“Snowballed.”

“Yep.”

“I see.” Ella warmed her hands on the coffee mug she just filled. “What started the snowball?”

“Eh,” I shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t really remember. I probably hit a cord or something, the man can be a bit high strung.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that. And I’m guessing that’s your excuse for...” and she nodded at the pack of cigarettes.

I winced. “Pretty much. Felt like having a smoke for some reason, didn’t end up ever having any though.”

“Hmm, strange. Looks like you had at least one.”

“Nope, did throw one away though.” I said.

“Throw… one… away.” I hate when she enunciates like that.

“Yeah, call it a gift to the smoking gods. I had a buddy back in college who always did that. He always said he was quitting, though it didn’t seem to slow him down much. But as a punishment for every pack he bought he’d throw two away. He wouldn’t give them to anybody else; they had to be thrown away. It was the weirdest thing. I mean, buying the cigarettes in the first place was a waste of money, and we didn’t have much extra back in those days.”

“It is a waste of money.”

“Especially since I’ll end up throwing them all away.”

“Are you?”

“Unless you want them.”

“I think I’ll pas, thanks.”

“Then that’s the plan.”

“Hmm…” she muttered. “You know I hate those things. You don’t have to see what it does to people, the things I see. That’s not a kind of suffering you want to go through, and it’s not something I’m willing to go through with you.”

“You won’t, it was just a compulsion.”

“I want to be able to trust you on this. I don’t like the idea that this could become a regular… compulsion.”

“Well, I never even smoked one, so I don’t know what to tell you.” And I didn’t. It’s not like I could apologize for not smoking cigarettes.

“But you wanted to.”

“Not really.”

“You wanted to enough to go buy them.”

“Thought I wanted them.”

“And next time?” I shrugged. “What if you really want them next time?"

“Bridge I doubt I’ll need to cross.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I know you don’t hon, but it’s not going to happen again.”

“Hmm… is Mike okay?”

“He’ll be fine. I’m sorry hon, it’s just that Mike and I have history and with all that happened to his family. Y’know, it kinda bubbles up sometimes.“

“It’s been three years Will, he needs to move on.”

“Seems like yesterday and forever ago.”

“I miss Margot and Sarah too, but you need to get him help.”

“Ain’t gonna happen.”

“You need to make it happen.”

“What do you expect me to do? Tie him up and drag him to a shrink? Force him to talk about his feelings?”

“He needs help.”

“He needs to want help, there’s nothing I can do to get him there. It’s on his timetable, not mine.”

“You’re right, I know. I’m just worried he’s gonna drag you down with him. With the cigarettes and all.”

“Mike had nothing to do with that, I didn’t get them until I was on the way home. He was never a smoker anyway. It was just a dumb idea I had.”

“I know sweetie,” she said. “Life can be overwhelming sometimes. I just want you to be okay.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Part 7

I didn’t stay long after that, I guess that we really didn’t have all that much else to say to each other about the subject. Well, maybe we had plenty to say; we just didn’t know how to say it yet. I think it was mostly me needing to leave, Mike has always been better at controlling himself.

I think talking about Sheryl out loud was the biggest issue. We’d never really talked about what happens after I drop Mike off at one of these things. I mean, I knew exactly what was going on, but knowing about it and saying it out loud are too different things. It was just and idea, a thought that could float away. Nothing was real about it.

This made it real.

Here’s the thing, once I said that I was going to be the one… taking care of Sheryl. Well, that’s when it became a promise. I had thought about it, sure. I had thought about the other three people too because they deserved to die too. Mike was pretty careful about picking these people out. I’m still surprised how many people out there are just pure monstrosities. But Mike was the one who needed to do this, almost as a therapy. It helped him stay normal, if that makes any sense.

But I am normal, so I shouldn’t need to do any of this. And if I feel this way about this person just by reading a file, you’d think that someone else closer to the whole thing would have taken care of it by now. Sometimes people need to step up and nobody is around willing to take the plunge. But they don’t, and then there are those like Mike who’ve been pushed so far that all they can do is push back. I don’t know how I became one of those people, or if I really am one of those people. I don’t know if I can do this.

So I stopped by the liquor store to pick up a pack of cigarettes, I hadn’t smoked much in years and it had been even longer since I’d actually bought a whole pack of cigarettes. But I felt justified. Sometimes you just feel like you want to die, just a little bit. Having a smoke is a great way to indulge that feeling. I figured Ella was going to kill me when she found out, so I’ll have to come up with a good story. Fuck it, I needed them.

Mike was right about Ella though; at least now that I think about it I think he’s right. She’s a nurse for chrissakes; her job is to help save lives. My new hobby involves taking them away. I wonder if she’ll believe it was all for the right reasons when she finds out. Does that make a difference? I don’t know how long I can keep this all a secret, or how long before Mike and I get caught. But I’m pretty damn sure that it’s not going to be forever. I wonder if I’ll be more mortified or embarrassed?

These aren’t good thoughts, and they’re going to make me as sloppy as Mike’s hate makes him. I get the hate, hell it’s my motivating factor as much as anything else is. But I wish that he believed that we were doing all this for a good reason, that we were on the right side of something. Making it all hate and vengeance is too dirty. There should be some justice and honor in there. It doesn’t have to be true.

I packed the cigarettes slowly, forgetting why I felt the compulsion to engage in this silly ritual. I don’t know that it’s ever actually made a difference in the quality of the smoke. Oh well, old habits die hard, and stupid ones last forever. I took off the cellophane and pulled off the foil end liner. I threw the trash away as I walked to the car, pulling out a cigarette and putting it in my mouth as I went. Then I realized that I didn’t have a lighter, I thought they used to be standard in cars?

I didn’t want to go back inside and feel like an idiot getting a box of matches, so I decided to just drive home and get matches there. Ella wouldn’t be home for a couple hours anyway, and if I took a shower and scrubbed my gums with steel wool she might not even notice.

As I drove home I thought about the night before with Ella, how she acted almost childish. She seemed really happy about something, but I don’t know what. I guess that sometimes we just need to be happy, and it’s especially important to try when you have no good reason. She did have those strawberries and that champagne ready though, and I should probably figure out why. In my experience, women don’t always have a good reason to celebrate but they always come up with some kind of reason. Was it an anniversary of something I forgot? Wouldn’t she have told me if it was? Wouldn’t she have been decidedly not happy?

I decided to stop thinking about anything for the rest of the drive, and concentrated firmly on that concept. It didn’t really work; I couldn’t stop fixating on something. The song playing on the radio, why the digital clock’s numbers were white when it would make more sense for them to be red. All the instruments in a car should glow red so it doesn’t hurt your night vision. How can I, the frickin accountant, know this but the engineers in multi-billion dollar companies can’t? It just doesn’t make any sense. Get your shit together boys.

When I got home I discovered that the cigarette was still hanging stupidly from my mouth. The paper had gotten stuck to my lips, and when I pulled took it out of my mouth it tore around the filter. I peeled the rest of the paper off the filter until it fell off the tobacco end. I smelled the tobacco and all it really smelled like was paper, which just seemed ridiculous. I rolled it firmly between my fingers until the tobacco shards floated softly to the patio.

This is stupid, I don’t want to kill myself one smoke at a time. I want to kill Sheryl Bowman for what she’s done and I want to know that I’m going to be able to do it. Mike would.

Part 6, That's right, doubling them up today

Alright, so this one is a little bit graphic in content, and to an extent that you may want to consider skipping over it. So if you are a good person who wants to avoid bad images in your life, please just let it go. I'm not apologizing, but I am giving fair warning. If you want an update on what happens without having to read the badness, just let me know and I'll keep you up on the important stuff.

The next day after work I went over to Mike’s house. He was pretty riled up about this whole Sheryl Bowman thing, and while I couldn’t blame him, it’s always dangerous to get too emotional. Mike really isn’t all that good with emotions anymore. It’s too bad; he used to be the calm one between us.

When I got there I let myself in per normal and found Mike in the garage, also per normal.

“Alright, I’m here. What’s the big deal?” I asked.

“What’s the big deal? Did you read any of this shit?”

“Wrong phrasing. What do you need?”

“I think we need to talk about this one, it’s not like the others.”

“That’s for sure.” I said.

“Look Will, I’m going to need you to back out of this one. I’m going to go solo from here on out.” Mike said.

“Solo?” The idea that Mike was freezing me out hit me pretty hard and got my head spinning. He’d never wanted to go alone on one of these things, and it just felt bad to me. I sat down on the couch and looked around a bit. I never really inserted myself into the, ahem, conclusion of our fishing expeditions. But I was always involved in the process, and got the feeling Mike wanted me to get in deeper, not less. Him changing his method did not feel like a good thing.

Then I saw one of the crime scene pictures pinned to the wall. “What the hell is that?” I asked.

“Motivation.” He responded calmly.

“Picture like that will make you hate her.”
“I don’t want to like her, Will.”

“Yeah, and hatred makes you sloppy you stupid prick. Take it down.” I tried to sound calm, but could hear that I wasn’t.

“What do you care? You’ve seen all the pictures already; nobody else comes back here. It’s safe.”

“I don’t care about it being safe. What I care about is you keeping your shit together, Mike. I can’t have you get all self-righteous and start making mistakes. That’s when bad stuff happens.”

“That’s why I need you to back off. I’m not going to just kill her, I’m going to hurt her.” He said.

“What do you mean ‘hurt her’?”

“She’s going to feel what they felt.”

“That’s not what we do.”

“It’s what I’m going to do.”

“Like hell you are! What do you think we’re doing here? You can’t go torturing the woman.”

“Why not? She gave out her fair share of torture. It feels like justice to me.”

“That’s not who we are, it’s not what we do.”

“It’s what I’m going to do. C’mon Will, your not part of the final stages of these things, you’re not the one killing anybody anyway.”

“I am this time. Sheryl is mine.” I said.

“The fuck you talking about? You’re not killing anybody.”

“Why not? You think you’re the only one who can pull a trigger?”

“You can’t do it Will, you don’t want to.”

“But I should let you torture her to death?”

“Look, you can’t understand this. I mean, you just can’t really understand it.”

“Here’s what I understand,” I said. “I understand that this woman needs to die for what she’s done. I understand that you are taking this one too personal, and that you aren’t going to be able to control yourself. I understand that it’s my turn to share the load. Now you understand that there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Is that some kind of threat? I’m not letting you kill anybody.”

“Like hell you are!”

“You can’t, you have too much to lose.”

“Oh bullshit, what makes me so different from you?”

“Ella.” Mike said. “You have Ella and a life to live, maybe even a family to start. You can’t take on this kind of guilt, it’ll ruin your life.”

“But I can let you…” I said.

“Don’t you fucking get it?” Mike said. “It’s all gone, everything is gone. I have nothing to lose anymore, my entire life is gone. I’m already dead. I can do this because I don’t matter anymore. What do you think, this is some kind of romantic notion of justice? I’m a murderer, Will. I kill people. I’m the bad guy in this story.”

“We’re not the bad guys here.”

“Oh no?” Mike said. “I kill people in cold blood, how is that the good guy?”

“Sheryl Bowman kidnapped two 8 year old boys and made them sodomize each other with a plunger. She hog tied them and threw them down her basement stairs when she was done playing with them. She consistently raped and beat them for three months, and then she strung them upside down, cut their wrists, and bathed in their blood. Killing her may not be righteous, but it sure as hell ain’t wrong either.” I said. “I don’t need to be the good guy here, but killing her doesn’t make us the bad guy either. She’s out free from all that, I can’t let it go.”

“You just get the information Will, I’m the killer.”

“You’ve killed three people.” I said dismissively.

“The FBI requires three kills to classify someone as a serial killer.”

“You aren’t a serial killer, Mike.”

“Really?” Mike said. “I track people down and kill them. Is there something I’m missing here?”

“We’re not doing this for some kind of lust or murderous rage. We’re fixing some wrongs. Doing what needs to be done.”

“I have a murderous rage, you know that. Normal people don’t do this.”

He was right, he’d been tracking and killing people since his family died. I’d never really thought it as a serial killing; I guess I figured that I didn’t really want to know. I was only helping him because he was killing the right people, though I guess that shouldn’t matter. But it did. Mike was becoming a monster of sorts, and I guess I was helping.

“But you can’t torture her.”

“She deserves it.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s crossing a line.”

“What line?” he asked.

“Torture is a sickness, and if you go that far you’ve gone too far. I mean, if she hid some kid and we needed to find out where, that’s one thing. If that was the case I’d help you do it. But we’re not doing it for kicks Mike, that’s just fucking wrong.”

“She deserves to suffer.” He said.

“She does, but that’s not our job.”

“Our job.” He said thoughtfully. “Some fucking profession.”

“Yeah. But I’m still going to be the one to kill her Mike, and I’m not letting you stop me. It’s my turn to start helping, you’ve got enough of a burden as is. It’s time I helped carry the load.”

“It’s mine to carry.”

“Not anymore. You can only handle so much at a time Mike.” I said. I don’t know if I really wanted to help him or not, or I just wanted to be the one to kill the most disgusting human being I’d ever encountered. She was like a nightmare, and I felt that killing her wasn’t killing a person, it was something else. Maybe I did have some sort of romantic idea about us, like we’re vigilante justice seekers. Batman and shit.

“Go home and look at your wife, then you think about what you’re saying. It’s not worth it.”

“She’d understand.” I said.

“You think so?”

No, I don’t think she would.

Part 5

So I've decided that this whole blog thing is my rough-ish draft area, and I'm subjecting both my readers to the crap version of my crap stories. As such, I'm posting this part even though I'll probably cut it if I ever finish the story. It serves its purpose, as far as furthering the characters in the direction I want them to go. I dunno, it works for what I want but it isn't what I want. But since I wrote it down I might as well post it. What's the worst that can happen? Judge me if you will.

After the movie Ella and I decided to eat out for dinner. We don’t really do these date night things all that much anymore, it just ends up being too expensive. But we decided to treat ourselves to a nice little Italian joint that we used to go to all the time when we were dating. My mood had settled a bit through the movie and life began to feel a little more even keeled. I was glad for the couple hours of mindlessness during the movie to relax. Sometimes our brains just need a break from reality.

We ended up chatting casually about the movie, which was cute in a pointless kind of way. She found the premise to be unrealistic while I found it patently absurd. That’s the point of these kinds of movies anyway, to tell the kinds of stories we aren’t likely to ever experience.

For the most part we just ate quietly. I guess after five years of marriage you just don’t have as many things to say anymore. But it was a good comfortable kind of quiet, with the muffled random noises of the restaurant in the background. With all the shit I saw in Sheryl’s happy file that morning, it was nice just to have something feel good and right. Some things in life do make sense and can be good. I don’t know why it struck me, but I felt a sense of humanity for a moment.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Ella asked.

“I dunno, stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” she pressed.

“I was just thinking how very lucky I am.” I said.

“Good day at work?”

“Good dinner company.”

She smiled. “Well, I have to admit, you are very lucky in that respect.”

“Don’t I know it? How did I ever get so lucky?” I asked.

“Hmm… that’s a great question.”

“I thought so. What’s a girl like you doing with a guy like me? It just seems like you could do so much better.”

“One would think so, but alas, all the good men were already taken,” she said with a shrug.

“That’s kinda what I figured, it’s tragic, really.” I said.

“You know,” she said in a half whisper. “You really aren’t all that bad a catch either mister. Many a girl has done much worse.”

“Really?”

“Oh sure.”

“I’ll bet many a girl has done better.” I said.

“I can’t imagine how.” She said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, I’ll bet you could.”

She winked at me. “Maybe if I gave it some thought, you never know. But really, what’s going on in that head of yours? You seem, I dunno, distant or something.”

“Distant?” I asked.

“Kinda. You look like you’re faraway or something. It’s in the eyes.”

“Hmm... interesting. I don’t know about that eye thing and all, but I guess that I was just thinking that right now at this moment I feel like I’m in the right place with the right person doing the right thing. It’s like the world makes sense, even if it’s just for a little while. Y’know? Everything is exactly the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Things aren’t normally the way they’re supposed to be?” she asked.

“Nah,” I said. “Sometimes I think the whole world seems just a little bit crazy. I like, think back, y’know? All the things that I thought I wanted as a kid, who I thought I’d be and all. The daydreams and memories, the way I thought the world worked. But then I watch the news and it’s so goddamn depressing… yeah, I don’t think the world is always the way it’s supposed to be. It’s just more complicated than I thought it would be, I guess. I always thought that things got easier as you grew up, like being an adult meant you had everything under control. But life doesn’t work that way. Except for moments like right now, sitting here, with you. Right now I’m not worrying about anything because it all feels just right. I dunno, I guess that sounds stupid and I’m just not saying it right.”

“Yeah you are. You said everything just perfect.” Ella started to get up. “I’m going to freshen up, get the check.”

“What about dessert?” They serve the best tiramisu in town here.

“At home,” and she winked.

Screw the tiramisu.

When we got home I saw the answering machine light blinking.

“Wanna bet who that is?” Ella asked.

“C’mon, it could be anybody.”

“Everybody else would call your cell like a normal person.”

“Could be a telemarketer.” I suggested.

“Then take the bet.”

Damn. “So he calls the land line, so what?”

“Just check the message, I’m gonna change. Get some dessert out of the fridge. I’m in the mood for something sweet,” she said as she walked towards the bedroom.

I walked over to the counter to hit the play button and find out what Mike wanted. Of course it was Mike.

“I told you!” Ella hollered from the other room when she heard the recording.

“I’ll call him tomorrow!” I yelled back.

“Call him now, he’ll just call again later if you don’t. I’m not done changing anyway… but don’t go over there!”

“Yeah, yeah” I muttered to myself as I dialed Mike’s number. “Yo.”

“Hey Will, can you talk?” Mike asked.

“Kinda, what’s up?”

“Can you come by? I think we need to talk about this Sheryl thing. This isn’t like before.”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work for me.” I said.

“Why not?”

“I’ve got my reasons. Is something happening now?”

“No, she’s at home. But I’m thinking something should.”

“No, it shouldn’t. Just read through the packet and then we’ll talk.” I said, trying to calm him down.

“I already went through it.” He said.

“All of it?”
“Its pretty compelling reading, Will.”

“I know, but you can’t do anything now. We have to let it play out, just like always. Let things settle.”

“You weren’t kidding when you called her, you know…”

“I wasn’t…” just then I saw Ella’s leg stick through the hall doorway, wearing some fancy black stocking I’d never seen before. “Look Mike, we can’t do anything now. Rushing is just bad news.” Her leg slid slowly back through the doorway. “I got to go Mike, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Fine.”

“Good. Listen, Mike? Don’t do anything, okay?”

“I guess not.” Click

After I hung up Ella stuck her head, just her head, out the doorway and asked, “What’s up?”

“Nothing, just Mike stuff.”

“Good,” she smiled. “Get the dessert,” and she disappeared again. I was glad she didn’t really want to know what Mike was up to.

I opened the refrigerator door and found chocolate covered strawberries and a bottle of champagne. Somebody was prepared. I started to wonder what the special occasion was until I realized that I didn’t care.

Part 4, is this some kind of record?

About a week later I stopped by Mike’s to drop off the information he wanted. I just opened the door, there’s no use knocking. He’s almost never in the house, and he refuses to lock the door.

“Yo, Mike! Hey it’s Will.”

No answer, figures. He’s almost always in the garage working on something. I wondered if he slept on the couch in there, the mental picture brought a smile to my face. Mike, what a schmuck. I walked through the house to the garage, picking up a couple of beers from the fridge on the way.

“Mike, how’s it going?” I said on my way through the door.

“You got it?” Down to business, I guess.

“I’m doing well thanks, you know, works busy… Yeah asshole, I got it.” I dropped a packet of background information on our new friend Sheryl on the counter.

“I don’t know how you get this stuff,” he said while opening the packet.

“And you never will.”

“Friends in high places, I guess.”

“Nah.” I had to think how to phrase it. “Just lots of friends in lots of places.”

“Whatever you do Will, keep doing it. You staying?” he asked, nodding at the beer.

“Can’t,” I said, handing him a bottle. “I’m going to meet Ella for a movie in a bit. Just got off early so you could get an early look at that.”

Mike was already looking through the packet, which was over a hundred pages long. I saw his eyes bulge a bit when he leafed to the middle section, which had all the pictures.

“You sure know how to pick them my friend.” I said.

“You went through this?” he asked.

“A bit, browsed mostly. It’s not fun reading. You’re still tailing her, right?
“Well yeah, but I was about to give up. She’s been clean and boring, thought I might have pass.”

“Don’t, it’s just a matter of time with this one.”

“Told you she was bad.”

“Not that bad.”

“I didn’t know,” he said. I raised my eyebrow and he raised his hands in an “I swear” motion.

“Yep,” I said. “She’s definitely a keeper. I didn’t know anything that bad existed until I started looking through that file. That’s a goddamn nightmare.”

“No kidding, hope the reading isn’t as bad as the photos. You better see a horror flick tonight.”

“That’s plenty of horror for me, thank you very much. It’s Ella’s turn to pick, so we’ll probably see some rom-com.”

“Aw hell,” he said with disgust.

I just shrugged my shoulders. “Makes her happy and my brain gets a nap. What are you going to do about Sheryl?”

“Dunno, but I’ll be watching her extra careful now. These pictures make it harder to wait. Is this real? It’s not some kind of sick joke, is it?”

“Can’t make up that shit.”

“How in the hell did she get out?”

“Technicality.” I said in very near a snarl.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope, the release order is in there, something went wrong timing wise with the DA, and some evidence was misplaced for awhile so the defense didn’t get it right away. I dunno, bunch of bullshit gibberish to me. I’m guessing you got her off Megan’s Law?”

“Yeah, but I had no idea.” Mike said. Megan’s Law requires sex offenders to register whenever they move, and you can track them online. It’s a good way to find all the predators near you. I assume Mike is checking it regularly.

“She’s got a minor conviction from before that they got to stick, so she can’t teach children anymore. But that’s the only thing that really stayed on her record, she’s just shy of free and clear. They’ll try to drum up some new charges but…” I shrugged. Truth be told they’ll probably have to wait until after she does something again.

“What was the conviction for?”

“I dunno, statutory or something. It’s in there.”

“Sounds like the least of all her sins.”

“She’s a fucking vampire Mike. You watch her and let me know when the time comes, I’ll be there.” He nodded, there wasn’t much else to say. “Anyways, I better head over to the theater, I have to meet Ella in 20 minutes. I’ll tell her you said hello.”

“Um, yeah. Sure.” Mike was completely engrossed in his reading.

I finished my beer and walked out, dropping the bottle in the recycling bin on the sidewalk. Must be trash day tomorrow. I tried to think about nothing at all for awhile, clearing my mind to be in a better mood for Ella. No point in spoiling her night too, I wouldn’t be able to explain.

Part 3, let's get it on the table

I was sitting at work playing Tetris when Mike called. I’m an accountant, and despite the fact that I play a ton of tetras on the clock I’m a damn good one. I run an office branch that’s kind of like a franchise. An old family friend owns the company, but I’ve self-financed and run this office for the last few years. It’s the closest I could get to owning my own business without actually owning anything.

“Will here, how can I help you?” I answered.

“Will, it’s Mike. I’ve got another one.”

Oh great. “You know that I’m at work, right?”

“That’s the number I called” he said. “You beat your high score in Tetris yet?”

Asshole. “I’m working here Mike, it’s not all fun and games.”

“Sure, look I just wanted to tell you that I got another fish.”

“That’s an interesting way to put it. What do you need?” I asked.

“Background.”

“Where’d you find this one?”

“Internet,” he responded.

“Are you sure it’s legit?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“No half-assing this one Mike, you need to be for sure for sure. You tailing him yet?”

“Her, and yeah, just starting.”

“Her? Shit. What do you need to know?”

“Same old. Whatever we can use against her, she’s a smart one. Was a teacher.”

“Damn it, seriously? The hell the world is coming to. How bad was it?”

“Bad.” I guess I’ll have to take his word on it for now.

“Alright, you got the basic info?”

“Yeah, just need the details, find out what I’m dealing with. Do what you do, Will.”

“Only reason you keep me around.” I said.

“Not the only reason. Name’s Bowman, Sheryl Bowman, with an ‘s’.”

“Got it, it’ll take a couple of days to get up and down the line. You got a timeline on this shindig?”

“Too soon to tell. Ella’s not on nights for another two weeks; should give me some time to verify. Make sure she hasn’t gone clean or nothing.”

Most people would be worried if their best friend had their wife’s schedule memorized. I guess I worried about it too, but I’m not worried about an affair. I’m worried that this is all becoming too routine.

“Alright Mike, I’ll let you know when I know.” I said.

“Good.” Click

“Your welcome asshole.”

I thought about finishing my game of Tetris, though I doubted I could beat my high score. I really am playing this too much. Best get started.

Part 2, I'd like to think I'll finish one of these stories lines some day...

I drove home for dinner, trying to think of ways to get Mike to act somewhat normal again. I figure at some point he has to find some kind of normalcy, though I’m not sure how that can happen. Oh well, it’s not worth worrying about tonight. I’ll just go home and put my feet up.

When I got home I opened the door looking forward to a cold beer, but Ella was waiting for an update. There goes the relaxation.

“Hey hon,” I said.

“How’d it go?” she asked.

“Oh I’m great, kind of a busy day at work though. How’d your day go?”

“Oh come on Will, you promised you’d talk to him.”

“I did, he said he’d think about it.” I tried to pretend I believed it, hoping it would sound truer.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“No I’m not, I’m actually a pretty good liar.”

“Are you saying that you lie to me?” she accused.

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” Then I got it, she was just fucking with me. It’s always hard to take a good joke when you actually are lying to your wife all the time. Well, not all the time.

“He’s just not interested in going out with us babe, he likes to keep to himself.”

“Will,” Ella whined. “You promised you’d get him to go out more, it isn’t healthy to be so antisocial. With you spending so much time with him, how’s he going to learn to be on his own again if you visit all the time?”

“Oh come on, we’ve been friends for 20 years, we don’t hang out any more than we used to.”

“Bullshit, you’re there all the time. It’s like I’m losing my husband. You stay over there late at night, it just isn’t right Will.”

“I don’t stay that late, when have I come home later than you?”

“You stay out late when I’m working the night shift.” Ella worked on a rotating schedule as a nurse in the hospital, so she had to do 6-week long shifts doing graveyard.

“Well, that’s when you’re not home. I never miss a chance to spend time with you babe.” Maybe some buttering up is in order.

She came over and gave me a hug, hanging her arms around my neck. “I know you don’t,” she buried her head into my shoulder. “I just don’t think you should spend so much time with him, he’s getting all weird. I was talking to Debbie; remember I told you about her? She’s my friend in the psyche ward, and she said that Mike probably needs to find a healthy way to grieve. It’s been 3 years, he needs to start moving on. If he doesn’t let it out, it’s just going to eat him up inside and suck the life out of him.”

“I know babe, but I don’t think he wants to move on. He had to go through a lot and he’s not going to be the same.” I could feel her sigh, “but I’ll keep trying.”

“We need to find him a hobby. And not hanging out with you!”

“C’mon El, we’re just good friends. He keeps himself busy.”

“Doing what?” she asked. “What is it you do over there?”

“Nothing much,” I said. “We just hang out, listen to music, maybe tool around in the garage a bit.”

“Ooh, sounds so manly.”

“Oh yes, we’re very manly.”

“I know you are.” She let go of my neck and slapped my behind. “That’s why I married you. Dinner’s on the table, I picked up some Chinese.”

“Did you get the pork fried rice?”

“Don’t I always?”

“You know I love you babe.”

“You better.” And she winked at me as she walked away. I could tell she was smiling.