Chapter One – Supper and the First Email.
What I cooked for supper isn't important to the story, but what I cooked it in is. When it is my turn to cook I sometimes make stir-fry. I don't have a wok, but use a large skillet. Well, I don't know if skillet is the right word. It's not one those heavy cast iron things, but a no-stick pan with fairly high sides. It is sturdy and a bit heavy, and it works great for my version of cooking.
I finished cutting chicken breasts into small pieces and was carefully coating each piece with corn starch. Chicken pieces when coated with corn starch fry up nice and crisp. My wife, A.J., and I enjoy them with stir fried vegetables on a bed of rice. Anyway, as I was coating the chicken pieces the phone rang.
"Hi there, sexy babe!" I answered.
"Hi, your self, Mark honey." AliciaJane answered.
"What's up A.J.?"
"Just checking on supper. Have you started cooking yet? I'm wondering if I have time to stop at the gym for a bit of serving practice."
I replied, "I am just getting started. I have the chicken cut up, but not the vegetables, and I haven't started the rice yet. What time would you be home? It takes about forty minutes for the rice cooker to do its thing."
"If you don't mind waiting that long, how about if I come home at seven?"
"Sure thing, sexy babe."
My wife, AliciaJane, is better known as A. J. Anderson in the women's tennis world. She was state champion in high school. She played tennis most of her college career, too, but an elbow injury kept her away from the courts her senior year. That was good for me.
I wouldn't have met her if not for that elbow injury. Instead of playing tennis that year she spent time at the library. I helped support my college by working part time shelving books in the North Dakota State University library. That's where I met A.J. I won't bore you with the details of our romance, except to say we were married the summer after graduation.
A couple of years ago she took up tennis again and played in a couple of amateur leagues here. During these cold North Dakota winters she tried to get in some practice two or three times a week after work. The gym over by NDSU has a room that is set up for tennis serving. There's a half court and a net. The other side of the net is some netting that catches tennis balls. A. J. liked to keep her serving arm in shape. More about that later.
I put the rice in the cooker and started it exactly 42 minutes before seven o'clock. Forty minutes later I heard the beep, beep, beep of rice being done. I also heard the sound of the garage door opening. A. J. was home! I rushed to the side kitchen door to meet her – almost tripping on the shoes that I left there when I came home.
"Hi, Sexy babe!" I exclaimed just before planting a big kiss on her cold lips.
"Brrr....it's cold out there," she said when I released her, "but your lips are hot."
"You can have more of my hot lips later, but now let's eat a hot supper," I said. "Speaking of cold, the last time I looked it was a minus thirty-three wind chill out there, and that was before it got dark."
I divided the rice into two bowls and then covered those white grains with chicken tidbits and veggies from that skillet. You do remember about the skillet being an important part of this story, don't you? So is my wife's tennis ability, but I won't get into that just yet. Let's have supper first.
A.J. put some soy sauce on her meal. I chided her for it. "Hey, you didn't even taste it first. Maybe it didn't need anything else.
She bantered back, "I tasted it first last week when you cooked the same thing, and it needed soy sauce."
I put soy sauce on mine, too. It needed it. We have this same discussion every time. I think it is a tradition. She might think I didn't love her anymore if I didn't mention tasting first before adding salt or anything.
"Hey Mark, why is your laptop on the kitchen table?"
"Oh, I left work early so I could buy some chicken and celery for supper. I need to finish checking my work emails. I will do that for a few minutes after my nap." I proceeded to the living room where my couch awaits. I take a nap after supper every night. It's for just 15 to 20 minutes, but enough to refresh me.
When I woke up AliciaJane was sitting on a kitchen chair right by the couch. She had my laptop on her lap.
"Mark, who is Betty Schultz?"
"Huh?"
"Betty Schultz, who is she? And why is she sending you messages to your office email address?"
"I don't actually know Betty Schultz, but I think she's one of the newer people in our accounting department," was my reply. "People at work send emails to each other all the time. It's quicker than talking on the phone or visiting in person."
"OK. Lover boy, explain this email from Betty," a now angry wife blurted at me. She read:
"Hi Marc, Lover Boy! I sure enjoyed what your lips did for me last night. You owe me a new pair of panties to replace the ones you ripped off me. Tee hee. See ya Friday night!"
I tried to tell A.J. "I have no idea why anyone would send me such an email. I don't know this Betty person. There must be a mistake."
"You're right about there being a mistake. You made a couple of mistakes, Lover Boy! That's what your slut at work calls you, isn't it? Well, Lover Boy, it was a mistake for you to leave your laptop on the table right where I could see it when I cleared off the supper dishes. But that's not the biggest mistake. You screwed up royally when you screwed that bitch!"
"A. J. I haven't screwed anyone but you ever!" I was almost shouting.
"Liar! I have the evidence right here on this computer."
She continued "Get out! Get out of my sight. No, better yet, get out of my house and out of my life."
"I am not going anywhere. I have not done anything wrong. There is some sort of mistake." I cried as I stood up.
She stormed out of the living room and came back with the skillet. "Get out!" She swung it at me. I lifted my left hand to protect myself. Smash. I think I could hear bones breaking in my hand. She swung again. This time the full force connected with my head. I was stunned. I staggered a bit. Then I saw the blood flowing off my face and down the front of my shirt.
I decided to get out, as requested. And, of course, you now know why I mentioned the skillet and the tennis ability.
Out the front door I ran. No coat. No shoes. Wind chill of at least thirty below. It didn't take me long to realize that I needed some protection from the cold and wind. I thought maybe I could beg her to give me my coat and shoes. I went back. The door was already locked and the lights were all turned off. No answer to the doorbell.
I took off walking as quickly as I could. University Drive is only about four blocks away. I think there is a fire station a bit north on University Drive. Fire stations have emergency respond people, don't they?
I don't know how long it took me to walk to the fire station, but I suspect it was close to a half hour. When I saw the sign with "Safe Place" over the door I was relieved. I entered.
"I need help," I told the man at the desk just before I fell over.
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Chapter Two – The hospital
I woke up. It didn't take me long to realize I was in a hospital. My left hand was in a cast. My head was hurting. I felt it, or rather I felt the bandages. My feet didn't feel right either. I looked down to see them bandaged, too.
"Hello, out there" I called to the open door. No response. I called again.
A woman walked in. I concluded she must be a nurse. The smock was a give-away, I think.
"Hello, Mr. Doe," she said.
