Sawdust and Bar

A

The Art of Falling

Story

*

This is not how I imagined my life would go. I have been miserable for eighteen years now and it looks as if there will be no relief. I don't even know how it happened. One minute I was a single, happy-go-lucky fellow and before I knew it I was married and not so happy.

Sherry was not what I would call a doll, but she was friendly and approachable. That was a big deal to a guy like me. Friendly and approachable meant that I could ask for a date and maybe not be shot down. It turned into a steady thing and a year later, after I got a full-time job at the Atlas Pump Plant, we were married.

Now, eighteen years later, I am still at the Atlas Pump Plant and I am still married. The biggest difference is that I now have two kids to boot.

I was always easygoing. I never wanted to be a boss or some kind of entrepreneur. I believed in the 'go along, get along' philosophy, whatever that is. Don't make waves and don't piss anybody off. It worked well for me in most cases.

What did I mean by in most cases? Well, it didn't work as far as my marriage was concerned. Sherry quickly figured out that she could use my unusual personality quirk to her advantage.

As a wife, I had few complaints about Sherry. She was a good cook, she kept a clean house, she was usually available for sex (the first few years), and she kept herself in good shape. On the other side, she quickly became bossy, when she realized she could get away with it, and she was not very thrifty. I always wanted to buy us a house, but every time I would get a few dollars together, Sherry found something to spend it on. As a result, we are still living in a rented house. Our credit cards were always maxed out.

Our home life was not all roses. Our son, Dwight, was sixteen and had been arrested twice for dealing drugs. One more time and he would not be released on probation. Our seventeen-year-old daughter, Gemma, was 100% pure goth. Her lifestyle was beyond my reach and fully supported by her mother. Family meals were nonexistent. I very seldom saw or had contact with either of my children. My wife made it very clear that I was to mind my own business and she would see to the kids.

As you can suspect, my relationship with my wife was no better. Several years ago she took a job with one of the local insurance agencies. I am not sure exactly what the job consisted of, but she enjoyed it so I kept my mouth shut, of course. She said it was her money and that she could spend it as she saw fit. That meant that it did not go toward food, rent, utilities, or other household expenses. It was used for clothes and beauty shop appointments. Over the years, her pay regularly increased and so did her wardrobe.

All this time, I was happily working away at the Atlas Pump Plant. I had worked my way up in the company and now I was the head parts puller. We didn't mass product pumps, we made special pumps for specific purposes. My job was to make sure that all the proper parts were available for each job. Not what one would consider a very impressive career goal, but I was happy and content. The salary was good and it had family medical benefits.

About five years ago, I suspected my wife was having an affair. It did take long to verify it because she did not feel the need to try and hide it. I accepted all of the usual lame excuses for her going out and never questioned her about anything. Why bother. Our sex life tapered off gradually until it was down to nothing. She didn't complain. I understood why she was getting such nice raises at work since her affair was with her boss, Malcolm Heard.

I started saving some money on the side. I also started a new hobby, wood carving.

I didn't know a thing about wood carving, but I did have a pocket knife. I quickly learned that serious woodcarvers normally do not use a pocket knife, although they like to depict that in movies and TV shows. After a while, I got a few nice knives and some other tools. I started carving small animal figures and progressed up to more elaborate things. I found the quiet time, alone in the basement to be relaxing and enjoyable. I figured out that I was actually a whittler and not a woodcarver. I am not sure what the difference is, but whittler sounded a bit more appropriate.

And then I discovered cottonwood bark. My whittling endeavors took on a new meaning. The only problem seemed to be the availability of good bark. I finally found a source of bark wood in Montana. Most of the cottonwood bark carvings seemed to be in the whimsical houses or wood spirit categories. I decided to concentrate on learning to create houses. As my fascination with the bark carving grew, my relationship with my family gradually disappeared.

My future was dire and I had no incentives or motivation to change it. I figured that I would die a lonely old man sitting in my basement whittling. I didn't care anymore.

And then I got a phone call.

"Hello!"

"Curtis? Curtis Langford?"

"Yes."

"This is Marsha Heard. Your wife works with my husband at Eagle Home Insurance. I believe we met a few years ago at one of the company gatherings."

"I am sorry Mrs. Heard, I don't recall meeting you. I haven't been to many of the company functions. I am usually not invited."

"Well, in any event, the company is having an awards ceremony this Friday and you should plan on attending. I think you will find it quite interesting. It is nothing formal, a suit and tie would be fine."

"I don't know Mrs. Heard. My wife is usually not too eager to have me going to any of these things with her. I think she is afraid that I will embarrass her or something. I don't think I will be able to make it but thank you for the invite."

"It is a bit more than an invite, Mister Langford. I really think that it would be in your best interest to attend. I have already reserved seats for you and your wife. They are serving prime rib."

"We'll see, but don't count on anything."

"I have confidence, Mister Langford. I will see you Friday."

It was an odd conversation with someone that I had never met. I had no interest or desire to attend any such gathering. What kind of spin would Sherry put on this when she got home. I was debating if I should even tell her about the call from Mrs. Heard. Maybe I should buy a new tie.

I decided to go online and order a new box of bark wood. I had a lot of carving to do.

Ooo000ooo

It was almost eight o'clock when my wife finally got home. I had already fed myself, as usual.

"Sorry for being late, Dear. We are working on a lot of claims because of that storm last month. Did you make something to eat?"

"Yes. Yourself?"

"We had a pizza delivered to the office."

"I got an interesting phone call from Mrs. Heard today. There is a company function Friday evening and she was confirming that we would be attending. I told her that you would probably be there, but not me. She insisted that it was essential that both of us come. I have no idea why and I didn't want to get into an argument with her. See if you can straighten it out before the end of the week."

"Why would Mrs. Heard be calling you?"

"I have no idea. I have no desire to go to any of your company's social functions. You know that! Just take care of it."

"It must be important if she would take the time to call you. Maybe you should just go for a change. It might be easier than aggravating her. You know of course that she is the actual owner of the company, not Malcolm."

"No! I didn't know that. I really don't care."

"Why are you being so hard-headed about this?"

"Why? Do you really want to know? It is embarrassing and humiliating to be around all of your coworkers since they know what our relationship is like. I don't understand why you would not do everything in your power to prevent me from going. Apparently, none of this bothers you."

"What the hell are you talking about. Everything you are saying is gibberish."

"Everybody in your company is aware of your relationship with Malcolm Heard. Whenever they see me they always smirk, giggle, or make snide comments. I can put up with it by avoiding them. That is why I just stay out of the way."

"Curtis, you are out of your mind. I don't know where you get these weird ideas. You are going Friday. That is the end of it. Buy a new tie. No! Forget that. I will buy you a new tie."

It was interesting, that she did not deny or defend her relationship with Malcolm Heard. She just let it all evaporate. If you don't discuss it, it doesn't exist.

This was the first time that I had ever said or inferred anything about her affair. There was no reaction from her at all. For years, I had been careful not to rock the boat and when I finally do, it turns out to be a non-event. It was as if she didn't care if I knew or not.

I decided that I needed an exit strategy. No more go along, get along. I had four days to get ready. Ready for what? I didn't know. Eighteen years of being the nice guy. I wasted half of my life.

OooOOOooo

By the time Friday rolled around I was ready. All of the options had been considered and one was chosen. The most difficult part was what to do with the children. They both were mine, I assumed, but I had no parental bond with either one of them. I tried but failed. Sherry had succeeded in alienating them from me and I let it happen. As a result, both of them were no longer my problem. All I was good for was providing funds for their existence.

Sherry spent a few minutes making sure that my tie was properly tied and I swear I saw her smirk while she was doing it. During the drive, I was reminded not to cause a scene or do anything to embarrass her. It was going to be a long night.

That never happened.

There were only about fifty or sixty people there and I didn't know any of them. Sherry quickly left my side and I made my way to the open bar, and a bottle of whatever beer they had available. I never even got to finish the first one when I noticed a few younger guys looking my way and smiling. As I turned away I was able to pick up the word 'cuck' and a few snickers.

"Hi! My name is Gary. Gary Jones. You're Curtis right? Sherry's husband?" He held out his hand.

I shook his hand and just nodded to him, silently affirming my identity. We stood quietly for a few seconds, neither one of us knowing where to take the conversation.

"So Curtis, how long have you and Sherry had this open marriage? I've heard about arrangements like that, but I never met anyone who was actually living it." He smiled and waited for some type of answer. He wasn't being a smart ass. To him, it was a serious question. I noticed a small group of women nearby who were looking my way and giggling. If I stayed here, it was going to be a long night. It wasn't even ten minutes since I walked in the door.

I put my half-empty bottle on the bar, turned to my companion, and shook his hand again. "It was nice to meet you, Gary Jones. Enjoy the rest of the evening." I turned and quietly left the building.

I spent the next hour getting my ten-year-old Outback loaded. I was glad that I spent as much time as I did preparing. I was trying to figure out if I wanted to take the George Foreman or not when my cell rang.

"Curtis? Curtis are you there? This is Marsha Heard."

"Yes! I am here. How can I help you, Mrs. Heard?"

"You disappeared. I saw you and your wife come in and then you were gone. You missed the important part of the evening. I felt that you should be here. "

"I don't understand. What exactly did I miss?"

"At eight o'clock this evening, my husband Malcolm was served with divorce papers, and your wife was also served a subpoena. Since I owned the company they were also fired. I wanted to do it in such a way that they would suffer the utmost humiliation. That is why I wanted you there. To embarrass your wife as much as possible."

"Wow! I am sorry I missed out on that. I applaud your creativity." I didn't know what else to say, so we had a bit of dead air.

"Are you going to be all right, Mrs. Heard?"

"Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

"Just trying to be a bit considerate. Well, thank you for the call. I have to go now. Good luck with the business. Goodbye." I hung up before she could continue the conversation. I had a long drive ahead of me. The evening had turned out a lot better than I thought it would.

I took the George Foreman with me.

OoooOOOoooo

My brother Stan and his wife Barbara lived in Huntsville. Stan had his own business maintaining garage doors and gates at personal storage unit facilities. There were over a hundred storage facilities in the area and that meant thousands of overhead doors that constantly needed repair. He had more work than he could handle. Some of the larger facilities had in-house maintenance personnel, but for most of them, it was more economical to outsource the work.

I moved in with my brother and started my new job immediately. After working with him for three weeks, I got to go out on the jobs by myself. It was a nice change of pace. I kept my old phone but removed the SIM card. Stan gave me a new phone for the business. I also started to look for an apartment. Staying in the guest room would not work for too long.

I had no contact with Sherry or anyone from home. Nobody knew where I was. I got an Alabama driver's license, and tags on my Subaru. Life was good.

oooOOOooo

Everything was going great. I had a small apartment just a few minutes away from Stan and Barbara. One of the bedrooms was set up as a woodcarving area. I got a small air fryer to go with my George Foreman I didn't go full keto, but I did start watching my carbs. In six months I had lost thirty excess pounds.

I didn't miss my old life, but I felt that I had never got closure of any sort. I had expected that someone might look for me, but it never happened. Nobody cared that I was gone. They might have missed my money, but I was sure that they never missed me. I was never served with divorce papers or any demands for support of any type. I did lose a few nights' sleep, worrying about it, but quickly shed it with the help of a little Black and Tan.

Finally one day I decided it was time.

"Hello. Curtis is that you?" She sounded normal.

"Yes. I was just calling to see if you had filed for divorce yet."

"Why? Are you thinking of remarrying?"

"No, but I thought that you might. I don't want to stand in your way."

There was a slight pause. "Curtis, where are you? Are you thinking about coming home at any point?"

"I wasn't planning on it. As far as I am concerned, everything is fine just the way it is. How about you?"

"Not so good, I am afraid. Luckily, you called on a Sunday. Normally I am at work most of the day. I am working at the Waffle House every morning and I stock shelves at Krogers in the evening. It is the only way that I can afford the rent, utilities, and car insurance."

"Sorry to hear that. What happened at Eagle Home?"

I didn't get a reply. I waited a few moments.

Can't the kids help you out some? They are both old enough to get some kind of job."

"Dwight got caught dealing again and is serving two years at the juvenile center in Graterford. Gemma is in California with a guy named Rocco. I never got his last name. Not much help available there."

"Well Sherry, I am sorry that things are not working for you. If you do decide that you want that divorce, just let me know."

"How am I supposed to do that? I don't have an address and you keep your phone ......."

That was when I quietly hit the discontinue call button. I blocked her number and turned my phone off. I am going to have to get a new cell phone, maybe a smart one.

The turning point in my new life came the next month. There was an Arts and Crafts exposition at the Von Braun Center in Huntsville. Stan and Barbara insisted that I come. One of Barbara's childhood friends was going to be exhibiting and she wanted me to meet her. It sounded like some kind of set up which I resisted, but I did want to see the show.

Suzi Doyle had a display of small, sawdust-fired, ceramic figures. They were each about six to ten inches tall and had a unique black finish to them. The figures were odd. They were animals, but unlike any, I had ever seen. Several of them seemed to be penguins but had heads like pelicans. I noticed some small cat figurines that had faces like owls. They were unique, to say the least.

Introductions were made and I had a lot of questions. I guess I was supposed to be interested in Suzi, but I screwed it up by showing more interest in her art.

"How come they are all black?"

"Do you fire them yourself?

"Is it actual sawdust or is it pellets like they use in the smoker grills?

"Why are some parts shiny and some dull?"

Suzi seemed to think the questions were valid and took time to answer each one as I presented it. Stan and Barbara were sort of smiling and I think Barbara giggled a little. They excused themselves and continued around the exhibit. I stayed and talked to Suzi. I had spent more time talking with her than I had ever spent talking with any woman before. We did not discuss anything of a personal nature, but I did ask if I could come to see her at her home. She was very receptive. Thirty minutes later Stan and Barbara came back.

We stopped at The Outback for supper.

"Curtis. You do realize that all you talked about since we left the convention center was Suzi and her animals?" Barbara was sort of smiling when she said it.

I paused for a moment. "I suppose so. I liked her. I liked her funny little critters also. I felt comfortable with her."

Stan leaned across the table and looked me in the eye. "That's a good thing, Curtis! Don't blow it." I was a bit embarrassed, and Stan and Barbara picked up on it.

They grinned when I told them that I was going down to see her that weekend.

OooOOOooo

Finding Boaz was easy with the GPS. Finding the actual place where Suzi lived was not so easy. It wasn't farm country and it wasn't ranching country; it was just country. The house was set back from the road about one hundred yards or so. There were several outbuildings, more than one would think were necessary. I can't say it was neat, but it wasn't trashy either. I guess you could say that it looked busy. It was also very private.

I was greeted with a hug and by a barking dog, who quickly quieted down when he realized that I was no threat. The chickens didn't seem to care one way or another.

We started the day with coffee and a light conversation. She was anxious to show me her ceramic operation. About a hundred feet behind the house was a short hill and on one side was an area where you could see that she had been digging out clay. There were several crudely made racks with wire mesh bottoms that she used to sift the clay before bringing it back to the house. It quickly became obvious how she was able to keep her trim figure. Pushing the wheelbarrow over the rough trail back to the shop, while it was full of clay had to be a struggle.

Several hours later, I was completely overwhelmed. The only thing I hadn't seen was where the sawdust came from. She said that would come after lunch.

The sawdust was used to fire the ceramic figures. She would load up a fifty-five-gallon drum with sawdust and greenware figurines and then light it. It would take several days for the smoldering fire to reach the bottom of the barrel. By that time the pieces were all fired. The finer the sawdust the slower the fire.

We had a couple of sandwiches for lunch and then sat on the front porch. Between the two heavy-duty rockers, she set down an ice chest and smiled. I guess she called Stan and Barbara before I arrived. The cooler was full of Black and Tan. We never got to go to the sawdust mill, but we did kill quite a few longnecks.