I still had one family to visit, but on the trip back from the Hornings, I felt relief. The worst was over-- hell, all things bad were over, at least in my childhood-revisited expedition. The more I thought of my days with the Leary family the more my perception of those days was changing. And now put in further perspective by visits, prolonged visits to my mind's eye of my times with the others, had gotten me to the point of replacing dread with anticipation. I decided I wouldn't wait past the next weekend to try and see the Learys. And this time I wouldn't be calling and hanging up, I'd be the grown-up I wanted so much to convey to all of these people.
We had just finished our Monday morning staff meeting when Jim's phone rang. I was walking out of his office when he called me back in and motioned to me to sit down. He was speaking to the old man, although he wasn't doing much of the speaking.
"I understand, but.... I know, but some of those... Okay, I'll send Sean upstairs." Jim hung up the phone, placed his elbows on his desk and rested his head on his hands. He looked very sad.
"Martino from Lucky's called. It's over. They pulled the plug. The old man wants you upstairs to go over how he wants to cut your sales force. Just 'yes' him to death, and come back and talk to me before you actually do anything."
Lucky's was our pet food line, small by pet foods standards but worth almost one hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year to us, a not inconsequential sum, especially to a brokerage company slip sliding away as fast as we were. Lucky's was the company who called a review meeting the week before with just Jim and Jack. I had made cuts before, several times but we were now down past the skin and bones level. Cuts from this point on would affect men and women who'd been with us for years, sales people who were the sole supporters of their family, men and women that I loved. This was going to be terrible. I didn't disagree with Jim when he told me to yes the old man but I knew right away that I wasn't going to do it. I had a responsibility to people who had worked especially hard for me, who helped me get the job that I had. And more importantly I had to do what I could to save the jobs of the people who needed them the most.
I walked upstairs and told Ruthless I was there to see Jack. She gave me one of those nods that said I hear you but right now I'm not going to do anything for you. She was getting back at me for my most recent wisecracks. I thought about just walking by her and knocking on his door but decided this situation called for me being both careful and patient, the later a trait I've always been lacking in. But with the future of any number of people possibly in my hands I wasn't about to do anything that might get me off on the wrong foot with Scully. This one Ruthless would win.
"Ruth... Oh there you are-- come in, Murphy." Jack had come out looking for me; I didn't know whether to consider that a good or bad sign. As it turned out it was neither.
"Sit down, Murphy, we've got a situation. I guess Jim told you about Lucky's."
"Yes sir, he did. That's tough for everyone, but we'll get through it." My words sounded trite to me as I said them. Scully gave me a look and went on.
"That account was worth around two hundred grand. We can't afford to take those kinds of hits anymore without making cuts. We gotta save two hundred grand, Murphy. Can't cut headquarters reps anymore; Jim would have a heart attack. That leaves your guys."
First of all, he was exaggerating-- Jim had told me Lucky's paid fifty grand less than Jack said. Secondly, we were down too many retail people already; having one stinkin' little pet food line less to work in the stores wasn't going to give my people more than a few extra minutes, not the kind of savings in time you'd need to justify cutting several sales reps.
"Jack, we can't pare down our retail sales force any more right now. Retail has been the only thing we've been getting passing grades on from the principles; if it starts to go down, we could lose more accounts, and we can't afford that. To say the least." I'd never called him Jack before, and I'd never disagreed with anything he'd said directly to me. Of course, this was one of the few meetings I'd had with him without Jim being there, not a coincidence. But I figured, what the hell.
"Let me tell you something, Murphy-- no, let me ask you something. What system do we have?"
"What system? What do you mean? do you mean us, Scully Sales?"
"America, Murphy-- what system do we have here?"
"You mean what kind of government?"
"Jesus Christ, Murphy, the system is capitalism. We have an economic system called capitalism. Ever hear of it?"
"Yes sir."
"Tell me about it." Economics wasn't an area of expertise for me, but I knew enough not to sound too stupid.
"Supply and demand determines what you can charge for something."
"Very good. What else can you tell me about capitalism?" I knew where he was going; it took me a while, but I knew. It wasn't a good place for my retail sales force and me.
"The goal is making a profit, Mr. Scully." He clapped his hands in mock appreciation of my response.
"Excellent. I knew there was a reason why I made you a vice-president. Now that we've got that understood, I need you to save me two hundred thousand dollars. I figure, with benefits, each of your retail people cost me about thirty grand a year. Right?"
"That's right."
"So you need to cut your staff by seven people, Murphy. That's wasn't too hard, was it?"
"Mr. Scully, cutting seven people has the potential to get us into serious trouble with principles. I can't guarantee the stores will meet their standards."
"Yes, you can." I just looked at him."You can and you will. You know why?" I knew why.
"Because it's my responsibility to find a way to get the job done."
"Bingo. One more thing..." Ruthless knocked on the door and stuck her head in.
"Excuse me sir, I've got Kathy on line two." My heart jumped.
"Excuse me a minute, Murphy." I started to get up.
"No, stay right there. I'll only be a minute. I want to finish. Hello, honey... Okay, that's fine..." I was dying to know what she was saying to him... "That's fine, sure... I love you too. 'Bye, sweetheart." He spoke in a voice I'd never heard from him before. It was soft, almost gentle. He was smiling the whole time, and those couple of minutes seemed to stay with him.
"Okay, where were we? Oh yeah. Look, it's tough but there's nothing we can do. If I get to the point where this is a losing proposition, I sell. Then everyone's out of work."
I wanted to find a different way to tell him what I'd already said, that he was guaranteeing the eventual end of Scully Sales, but I knew it would have been a waste of time. Jim had been right, I should just have said "Fine, okay" right off, and gotten the hell out of there.
"I understand, sir. I'll put a proposal together and get it back to you in a few days." The modifying factor of speaking to his daughter must have worn off.
"Give it to Jim this afternoon. Make sure it says you're going to have seven less sales reps. 'Bye, Murphy."
I went down to Jim's office and sat down on his old brown leather couch. He was on the phone with his back to me. In a moment he was through and he swiveled around to face me.
"What the hell is up with you? All of a sudden you don't listen to me. You think you're a big shot now that the old man made you a VP? He can also make you an ex-employee-- that rhymes with VP, you know?" He wasn't what I would call angry, but I think I'd have to say he was disappointed in me.
"Hey, Jim, it was hard to listen without telling him what I know damn well will be the results of his stupidity and his shortsightedness. You know what'll happen if I cut seven more people-- it's ridiculous."
"Listen to me. I'm only going to tell you this one more time. It's his fuckin' company, he's made the decision to run it into the ground, and we've made the decision to hang in as long as we can, because it'll be worse for everyone involved if we don't. Have you thought of any creative ways to cut two hundred grand?"
"Why does he say two hundred when you told me it's one fifty?"
"Sean, repeat after me...."
"Okay, okay, it's his fuckin' company-- I got it. This does suck, though. Yeah, I was thinking that maybe I could propose that we reduce about half the sales force to a four-day week, and..."
Jim interrupted me: "There you go-- you work out the details, and we'll take it up to him together. Now, close the door. I've got some information you're going to be very interested in." He took out a couple of cigars, clipped the tip of his, and flipped me his cutter. In a moment the room was smoky and smelly, just the way we liked it.
"When I got in this morning, Scully was sitting in my office. He does that every once in a while. It means he's got something on his mind besides business. I got him some coffee, and he proceeded to spill his guts to me about Kathy. Did you know she had an affair with a professor at Princeton?"
"She told me she had a-- I think she used the word 'relationship'-- 'pretty deep in a relationship', that's what she said."
"Well, he was a guy in his late forties, and she was living with him on and off for about six months. Jack never met him, but she showed him a picture of this guy, and Jack said he looked like he could be Kathy's grandfather. Big white beard, bald, glasses, kind of chubby. He couldn't figure out what the hell she saw in him."
"So how come he's telling you this stuff now?"
"I was getting to that. Seems that the guy is weaseling his way back into her life. She spent last weekend with him again, and Jack's worried."
"That explains a lot."
"What do you mean?"
I told Jim how she stood me up last Saturday, and how I hadn't heard from her since. I mentioned that she called Jack when I was up in his office, and that whatever she said it seemed to soothe the old man.
"When you get your proposal together, after we take it up to him I'll stay behind, and I'll see what I can find out for you. You know, you might wind up benefiting from all this shit with the professor."
"How's that?"
"Well, Jack might be so happy to get her away from him that you could begin to look acceptable-- know what I mean?"
"Yeah, now all I've got to do is get her away from the old guy."
"Hey, watch that shit!"
"No, no, no, you're different-- you're young at heart."
"From what you tell me, it ain't his heart that's turning her key."
"Who knows what the hell he's doing to get her going? It could be anything."
"That's right, he might be letting her do him in his fuckin' classroom."
"That wouldn't be such a big deal for her-- are they doing it while he's teaching the class, that's the question?" We both got a laugh, but in a moment I began to realize that here I am making jokes about the off-the-wall-- shall we say "traits"-- of a girl I'm convinced I'm in love with. Jim saw that I had gotten quiet.
"What's the matter, Sean? What are you thinking about?"
"I'm thinking that I'm in love with a really weird person. And I'm sitting here making fun of her. What the hell does that say about me?"
"It says that you're in love with a really weird person. Big deal. we're all weird. And she's still a kid from a fucked-up family. You're the man, Sean; you're the guy that can straighten her out. Although I'd encourage you not to straighten her out completely."
Jim could always find a way to calm me down, to make me see things in a better light. My problem was that Jim wasn't always around, that I was alone a lot. Way too much, in fact, and I was afraid, with good reason, that I'd have to figure out a way to either have a fairly normal relationship with this anything-but-normal girl, or keep the hell away from her. And I knew that either objective would be tough, very tough.
It was a little after five when Jim called me and asked me to come into his office.
"All I did was ask Jack how Kathy was doing, and the flood gates opened. Literally and figuratively."
"What do you mean? Was he crying?"
"Yeah, quite a bit, actually. He's very worried about her. He said that this professor guy, his name is Barton-- Walter Barton-- he won't leave her alone. She told Jack that she'd actually met somebody she was starting to care for. I think that's you, man, but Barton kind of has a hold over her. Or a spell, something like that. She swears off him, tells him they're through, and he says okay. Some time goes by and he contacts her with a sob story, she meets with him, and it starts all over again. He says this happened three different times, the most recent last Saturday. So that explains your lost weekend."
"So what was the phone call."
"The phone call said she was staying with a girlfriend in a dorm at Princeton. The professor lives in the town of Princeton, and she was with him from Saturday until today. She told Jack she just disappeared when he went to class and went with her friend."
"Why didn't she just come home?"
"That's why Jack was crying. He thinks this guy's got a hold on her. She says she's coming home tomorrow. It doesn't make a lot of sense, but at least you know what's going on."
"You think I should go down there if she doesn't come home tomorrow?"
"No. She's not a child, and it isn't like the guy's got her tied down. I think you've got to wait it out. But I'll tell you this: when you do see her again, you need to make the big move."
"What's the big move?"
"I don't know. I just know you've got to make it."
The fifteen-minute drive home that night seemed to take about three minutes. I was lost in thought about Kathy and me, what to do if she didn't come home soon, what to do if she didn't contact me after she did. And what to say to her when I finally did see her, how to make the big move. I told myself a dozen times to take things one at a time, but I wasn't doing well with that.
Monday night at Mahoney's during football season is a good place for a lonely, screwed-up guy to be, and I was one of the first guys at the bar. I got an Adams from Mickey the bartender, ordered a burger platter, and picked up a "Friends" rerun in the middle of an episode. It was the one where they play touch football. I've seen it nine times, at least, but I still laugh at Monica, the bossy, compulsive organizer. Kathy looks something like Courtney Cox-- built like her, too, except that she doesn't have fake cans. If I were at home, I would have changed the channel; instead, I took my plate of food and bottle of beer and slid down to the other end of the bar, where I could see the television set with ESPN Sportscenter on it. Just as I realized I had to go back and get my ketchup, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Kathy.
"By my calculations I'm forty-eight and one-half hours late. Would you believe car trouble?" I was so happy I would have.
"How are you. Are you all right? I know all about what's going on. I'm glad you came home. Come on; let's go sit in a booth. What do you want to drink?"
"Diet coke." I led her to the last booth, across from the end of the bar.
"What do you mean you know all about what's going on? What do you think you know?"
"Your father told Jim about all the stuff with the professor. You know, every time I say that, I think of Gilligan's Island. I heard that he doesn't look much like THAT professor." I regretted the words as I said them, something I have a habit of doing.
"You never saw him, you never met him, you don't know a damn thing about him."
"You're right. I'm sorry. It was a very lame attempt at humor, and I know none of this is funny to you. And I can assure you it's not even a little funny to me. If you want to talk about it, great; if not, we'll talk about something else."
"Like what?"
"I don't know; you tell me?"
"Tell me about your life, I don't know a damn thing about you."
"You know I work for your father, that I've worked for him for about eleven years. I live around the block from here, and I like you a lot." My smile was catching.
"Where did you grow up?"
"Well, kind of all over. I was a foster kid; I went from family to family, around Long Island, until I was eighteen. I told you about my college experience. I followed that up with three years in the Army, had a couple of shitty little jobs, and got lucky, got to work at Scully Sales."
"Did you know your real parents?" I gave her the quick version of me being left at a church.
"How does it feel not knowing who your real parents were, never meeting them?"
"Like there's something missing in my life. It might have been easier if I'd gotten adopted, but I apparently flunked a couple of tryouts when I was three or four, and then it just got to be too late. Everybody wants a baby or a really young child, you know?" She didn't seem to be responding to my comments; she clearly had her own agenda.
"Do you try to imagine what your real parents were like?"
"I used to. Now I've gotten pretty good at not doing it. It was just painful-- nothing good came out of those thoughts."
"Have you gone back to see any of the foster families?"
"Actually I've gone to three of the four families. It's something that I began just this summer."
"How'd that go?"
"Two pretty bad, one okay. The one that's left is the good one, the only good one. I was planning on going soon."
"Would you take me?"
"Sure, I'll take you. It may be as soon as next weekend-- in fact, I'm planning for then. Now I've got to ask you a question."
"Go ahead."
"Are you going to be around next weekend?"
"I'm planning on it. Yeah, I'll be around; I'd really like to go with you. Where is this family by the way?"
"Well, they were in Levittown, I've got to look them up. I'll check it out tonight. Hey, wanna go back to my place, we can check it out right now?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
I left a ten-dollar bill next to my uneaten burger platter and walked Kathy out to the parking lot. She followed me in her car to a little Chinese restaurant for some take-out food on the way to my apartment, where we spent the next eight hours talking. Just talking. Well, certainly a kiss here or a touch there, but if telling your life story to someone as they tell you theirs is 'the big move' Jim was talking about, then that's what went on. I found a side of Kathy Scully that I had hoped-- counted on, actually-- she had. More poor little rich girl than arrogant, more mixed-up than weird. But it was after a few hours of hearing stories from my childhood, and asking more questions about how it felt not to have parents, that she dropped the first bombshell on me.
"I'm going to tell you something that no on else in the world knows that I know. Swear you won't tell anyone, not even Jim."
"I swear."
"Say 'I swear I won't tell Jim'."
"Jesus, I swear I won't tell Jim. Man, this better be something big."
"The Scullys aren't my real parents."
"What? What do you mean, 'not your real parents'?"
"They're not my real parents. I'm adopted. They don't know that I know."
"How'd you find out. Are you sure?"
"I was twelve. I'd gotten permission to spend the night with a friend, but after I'd been there a couple of hours she started throwing up and had a fever, so her family decided it would be best if I didn't stay. I told them my parents were home-- I thought they were home-- so I went back to my house. When I got there they were out. I stayed up a while, and then I went to bed.
They woke me up with an argument. They did that a lot, but this time they obviously thought I was out, and I guess they felt free to say meaner things than they'd say when I was around. Things like him telling her that she knew damn well she'd always have trouble having children, but that she kept it from him so that he'd marry her. And her telling him that she wouldn't have wanted to have a kid that he fathered anyway; it would probably turn out to be a drunken asshole. And they went on and on with other references to 'the kid', and how she'd never have been this good a kid if she was yours. It sounds funny now, but it was pretty bizarre for a twelve-year-old to listen to all that stuff."
"Damn, I can imagine. So you never confronted them on it?"
"Well, I thought about it a million times, but I always decided against it. I guess it's just... I don't know, what the hell would the point be? They'd just say they were trying to protect me or not hurt me or something, you know?"
"I agree, I can't see any point now. I just think they'd probably feel like shit for not telling you. I don't know about your relationship with your mother, but your old man seems to idolize you."
"You're right, he does. As far as my mother and me, it's okay. Not great, but I've got a feeling she thinks that I know she used to screw around on my father."
"Jesus Christ, you're carrying a lot of heavy stuff around. Are you sure you're right?"
"Oh yeah. When I was around eight or nine, I'd hear her talking to him on the telephone when she thought I was in another room."
"So why do you think she knows you know"
"I'm not sure, but there've been a few times when something would be said on a television show, or in conversation, and she'd kind of look at me funny, and I'd look back at her funny. I guess I was trying to let her know, or at least to make her wonder."
"Are you sure ALL of this stuff isn't in your imagination? You were kind of young-- are you sure you heard what you think you heard?"
"Listen, sometimes she'd call him Donnie, sometimes Don, and sometimes sweetheart. I know what I heard.
"And your father never found out?"
"I don't think so. I never heard them fight about that, and I've heard them fight about lots of things."
"So what do you think all this has done to you?"
"You mean do I think it's made me like to screw in strange places? Or do I think it's gotten me to be the kind of person who's just hanging out without a job or even any plans for months after spending a zillion dollars of my parents money on college? Or has it made me get involved with a man over twice my age? Or has it made me think I'm falling for a guy that would be anathema to my father?" I kissed her gently. She was crying, very softly.
She had been carrying around at least two very dark secrets for many years, and apparently hadn't told anyone. I wondered why she'd never had a girlfriend close enough to share these things with, but decided that wouldn't be a question for that moment.
We stayed quietly huddled for a long time. I was of mixed emotions, feeling just awful for Kathy, but, I must admit, almost ecstatic for myself. I wasn't sure what direction to take our conversation. I knew the next thing I wanted to ask her about: the professor. The professor and the relationship they had. But I decided, all things considered, I'd wait until she brought it up, at least for that night.
We'd been lying on the floor, and Kathy fell asleep that way
with her head on my stomach. I slipped a pillow under that
beautiful head, and put a blanket over her beautiful body, and
parked myself on the couch. It didn't take me long to fall
asleep. I never have a problem when I'm happy.
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Material Copyright © 1998-2003 by Jim Bearden