When I was in high school there was a girl one year behind me named Elaine. Her dad was the high school principal; we were all terrified of him. She was the middle child with an older and younger brother.
Looking back, Elaine was cute. She was taller than average, probable five-seven or eight. With reddish brown naturally curly hair and big sea green eyes she clearly showed her Irish heritage on her fathers side. She had a nice body; she certainly filled out her cheer leading uniform well. With a smattering of faint freckles and that Midwestern, make-up free scrubbed complexion, topped off with a cute little turned up nose, one has to wonder why more guys didn't ask her out. Her mother, then in her very early forties was a very striking woman.
The fact that no one had the nerve to ask her out was the "fault" of her father's station in life and her protective brothers. None of us had the balls to knock on her parent's door on a Friday or Saturday night to be greeted by her father who at the time we believed was the toughest, meanest human being on the planet. A legitimate war hero and combat fighter ace he had a look that turned adolescent boys to jelly. A former college wrestler, he also looked like he could tear you limb from limb.
Her older brother was a senior with me and a good friend; her younger brother, a sophomore was also a friend. As boys hang out in the locker room , the cafeteria or wherever and talk about how far they got the previous Friday or Saturday night with so-and-so, one could envision a look from Elaine's brothers that said, "don't even think about it".
Elaine was also a bit of a late bloomer; I saw a picture of her in her forties and she was every bit the beauty her mother had been. The boy who did ask her out, and dated her exclusively through his senior year in high school and college---and married her----was a bit of a goof ball. We all liked him; he was a marginal student, a cut up and a decent wrestler. He was easily an inch or two shorter than Elaine but the family seemed to approve of him.
Russ never quite managed to graduate from college in the time it took Elaine to get a Masters. He had trouble acquiring and holding decent jobs or succeeding in business. I saw a picture of him a few years back and he was carrying well over two hundred pounds on a five foot six inch frame; he looked like a bowling ball with legs. He lost his hair by the time he hit forty. He's had health problems. They never had kids; rumor had it that he had the deficiency. They're still married; he's very much in love with her. They never left that isolated little burg; Elaine teaches school and writes and Russ slips from low paying job to low paying job or failed business to failed business...and everyone still loves the guy.
A couple of months before I graduated from high school, I saw Elaine sitting alone in the local teen hangout/diner and decided to join her. I'd always had a fascination with her; she intrigued me. She was sitting there alone because Russ was late to pick her up as usual. We talked for over an hour; we flirted. We connected at a level I don't really understand to this day. There was unquestionably mutual interest. It was more...it was electric...it bordered on pure unbridled passion. We weren't strangers; I'd known her since she had been in the seventh grade but never before had we connected one on one. She was, during that hour, sexier, more alluring and more exciting than I could ever remember her being----or anyone else for that matter---before or since.
I was going off to college in the fall and a summer job far away in a few weeks. Russ was my friend and Elaine was, "his girl". Still, I have no question that had I not been eighteen and stupid I could have taken her away from Russ in that hour. I will always wish I had told her the truth or at least said something creative.
"Elaine, your are the brightest, cutest most interesting girl---no, woman---I've ever met. You excite me at this instant like no one I've ever been with. If I were to predict, you and Russ will end up going to the closest regional state university, date through college and get married soon after. Then you'll move back here and live with your parents for a few years. For whatever reason---your dad, your brothers---Russ was the only boy who had the nerve to ask you out. He was the first and will doubtless be the last. He's a sweet guy but I think we both know he'll never amount to a hill of beans. You on the other hand could do great things---but you won't because you will die in this dead little town, after retiring from teaching high school, supporting your loser husband and burying your dreams. You're better than that but I'm also being selfish."
I can imagine the look of shock and consternation on her face after that little speech.
"Elaine, I don't plan to come back her to live. I'm going to a top university and plan to make something of myself. When I graduate, get a job and have a couple of years to get established, I'm going to come find you. Hopefully you'll still be available but sadly, I doubt it. If you are still single, then I will ask you to marry me, you'll say yes of course and you and I will live happily ever after---together. And I will love you and make love to you like no man on this earth could ever do---totally, absolutely and completely---you and no other but you until I die. Any questions?"
It didn't happen that way; Elaine and Russ got married when she got her undergraduate degree and the rest is, sadly, history. But what if? What if something different happened? What if that foolish eighteen year old boy got a second chance many years later? Of course Elaine and Russ got married, but something happened? His health problems resulted in his early demise? She wanted children---and more---and woke up one day and realized that she wanted more out of life than Russ could ever give her and divorced his sorry butt? Russ turned out to be gay? Maybe all three?
Let's give it a go, but it's going to take a few pages to get there. As often happens when a story idea comes to me "life gets in the way" so the reader is going to have to endure some corporate stuff as we take our protagonist to that fateful day when he is reunited with the girl with whom he was destined to spend the rest of his life.
***
"The best laid plans of mice and men," Bill thought to himself as he contemplated the beginning of his forty-first year on earth. Celebrating the night of his fortieth birthday alone, in a city he despised, doing a job he hated, in an urban condo that stifled him he smiled affectionately at the bottle of 1986 Camus Reserve Cabernet which he had diligently preserved for so many years in anticipation of this day. He had a yellow legal pad propped on his lap with a line drawn down the middle. He was assessing his assets and liabilities.
He had his health and was physically fit; he'd finally won the battle against nicotine with the exception of the occasional decent cigar. He'd never done drugs and his taste in alcoholic beverages was decidedly moderate. He didn't gamble. No wife, just an ex-wife. No kids to either love or hate him. No real close friend but no dire enemies. The rehabilitative alimony was over. He'd lost half his assets in the divorce five years earlier but had rebuilt his savings and the bitch hadn't been able to get to his 401k. He had a six figure job but never got into collecting "big boy toys" so he lived well below his means. His parents were dead and he had no siblings.
If he blew his brains out with the 1911 Colt beside his bed, no one would miss him for several days. He didn't know his neighbors nor really care to. His job entailed excessive travel and frequent relocations; as such he had no real ties to any community. He wasn't quite where he thought he'd be at forty. A lackluster Junior year in college coupled with the draft had delayed his ultimate graduation from college by over five years. When he had entered the civilian corporate world those who had not fought in the war or had to take a second run at college were several years ahead of him. His current boss was all of thirty-two.
He was highly respected for his skills and knowledge and the excellent job he did but he seriously doubted that he was on anyone's fast track. He didn't golf or schmooze. He didn't complain but nor did he politic. He accepted shitty assignments that others avoided and turned in stellar results. He was usually rewarded with money, a pat on the back and another crappy assignment. He was the classic corporate hatchet man. "Bill, Des Moines is a mess, go out there, get the lay of the land and clean house." Or, "Bill, this business unit is unprofitable; go out to San Diego, see if it can be fixed and if not, close it down and terminate the employees." Or worse, "Bill, everyone loves the guy out in Cleveland but he's not meeting his objectives; go fire him and take over in the interim."
He had a somewhat nebulous title: Vice President of Corporate Restructuring. His thirty-two year old boss was a Senior Vice President of Corporate Solutions. He was a nice kid, albeit completely spineless and utterly clueless. He in turn reported to the President who barely gave Bill a nod in the hallway. He was sure the CEO and founder knew his name but doubted that he could put it with his face.
At this point in his career Bill should be the head of a major business unit but the only business units he was ever put in charge of were failing ones and it was his task to end their misery.
There'd been a shakeup at the top; the CEO and founder shocked the corporate community by announcing his imminent retirement and the board was bringing in a new face from a major consumer products company who knew nothing about this business. All of the minions were scurrying around preparing to meet the new guy; Bill had not been invited to do so---hadn't even been included in one of the briefing sessions.
Bill was like the mafia uncle that no ones wants to admit knowing until the family is threatened. There was something out of Rudyard Kipling about his existence. He had heard the nick names: the terminator, the hammer, Dr. Doom, the angel of death. Every company has them, kept on a shelf in a dark basement room until they're needed to do some dirty work. He laughed when he realized that his corporate life was really an extension of his military experience. No one he worked with knew what he had done in the Army; they wouldn't have been able to avoid the irony if they had known.
The bottle was empty and he was tired. There was an impressive list on the plus side of his personal ledger, certainly enough to keep him from putting a 230 grain hollow point, "flying ashtray" through his brain. On the negative side just a few words: No life, no love---no one. The damned travel and constant relocation even precluded a damn dog.
Love...had he ever been in love? Certainly not with his former wife; love had had nothing to do with that fucked up relationship. There had been a girl just before he graduated from high school; they'd never dated, danced together or kissed. They'd known each other for years in school, connected once for an hour and that was it. Certainly he was in love with his memory of her. He hadn't seen her or talked to her in twenty-two years. She was married to another man. She was probably overweight and burdened with several children by now.
The weekend passed as so many others had. He ran, he worked out, he read, he wrote---purely for the satisfaction it gave him---watched some football and slept. Monday morning he drove to the office he had occupied for the previous eight months. This job was almost over; the manufacturing facility was closed, the employees were virtually all terminated and the assets were being sold off. He'd move back to the corporate headquarters, sit on his ass for some period of time and then be sent off to burn down another failing business. He was done here; he probably hadn't been called back yet because the big boys were too busy polishing the apple and sucking up to the new CEO.
His clueless and spineless boss often called him just before seven on Monday morning knowing that Bill would be there. When he hadn't called by eight Bill just assumed he was busy primping for his audience with the new emperor. Just after nine, his secretary stuck her head in the door. Vallerie was a fifty-seven year old, somewhat austere, no nonsense woman. She had become his right hand over the years, relocated with him and was the closest person in the world to a good friend that Bill had.
