The Lovely Chocolate Mob - By Richard J. Bennett Page 0,19

and I’ll write back, if you want. Let’s find out about this ‘other woman.’ What can you tell me about her? Find out all you can, without raising any suspicions, of course.”

“Of course. Yes,” said Helen. “I know a few things, but not as much as I should. Mindy is good at research, especially on the internet. We’ll find out what we can, and get back in touch with you, hopefully soon.”

Mindy got up and left without saying a word. I guessed she was emotionally overwrought, but she’s the one who alerted her mother. After a few moments, Helen and I left the booth and walked outside, and I accompanied Helen to her car. It was dark by then, with most of the parking lot empty, and it wasn’t good to let her walk alone, even if the car wasn’t far from the building. Of course this put me in an awkward situation; in the old days, she’d expect me to kiss her goodbye. I held back so as to not crowd her, to not be too close. She got her keys out to open her car door, but before she did, she looked up at me and said, “I’m sorry if I hurt you, Randall.”

Well, I guess that took 25 years to say. What am I supposed to say in return?

“There was no ‘if,’ Helen.”

She took this well. “Then… I’m sorry I hurt you.”

I stopped for a moment, searching for sincerity in her eyes. Helen didn’t say anything more, but got in her car and drove off, leaving me standing in the parking lot.

Maybe I revealed too much. Perhaps I let my anger take over.

I got into my car and drove home, still wondering about Helen’s latter-day acknowledgement of my feelings. The more I thought the angrier I got. “Sorry?” I said out loud. “Sorry? Sorry is good, Helen, sorry is a good start, a good beginning.” I could feel my blood pressure go up and my pulse quicken as I continued, now yelling, “But ‘sorry’ doesn’t FIX things. FIXING things fixes things! If you wanna be SORRY about something, try FIXING it. How? I don’t KNOW how; that’s your problem, not mine!” By now I had changed into a driving Incredible Hulk.

I found myself yelling as I drove down the street into the neighborhood and into my driveway. I hoped none of the neighbors heard me, since my car windows had been down.

Work Day

When I woke up, the first words to come out of my mouth were “Oh, no.” I had to go in to work in an hour.

People sometimes asked me, “Do you like your job?” to which I always replied, “I like getting paid.” This got me some strange looks, but hey, I’m used to that, and have learned to expect it. I’ve learned when I don’t get an unusual stare, something’s wrong, as though I’ve gone against the flow of the crowd; sometimes I’ve enjoyed that, and other times I have been caught by surprise to see that stare from other people.

My job, as I told Miss Planter, is being a civil engineer at Root and Bonham, a private engineering firm in Lovely. The bosses are pleasant enough, and they’ve learned to leave me alone in my work area, which means I usually have all day to coordinate drawings correctly. They come by a few times during the day to touch base and make sure we’re on the same page, but since I’m their best worker and really don’t care for interruptions, they only stay as long as they have to. I’m a civil engineer, and we have a civil relationship. If they ask reasonable questions and give reasonable suggestions, I’ll listen and talk with them. If they’re just talking to be talking, I have to bite my tongue to not be rude. I know more than they do about any project in the building and they know it, although it’s not said. If I chose to, I could have been one of the managers and bosses, but then I wouldn’t be an engineer, would I? Why did I go to school to learn how to be an engineer if I were going to be a people manager? I went to school to become an engineer, and an engineer I’ll stay until I retire, which, I hope, won’t be too far in the future.

The pay is fair, not great, but fair, which is why I don’t bolt and sell out to another firm. I know