In high color and high dudgeon, he arrived at my office in no mood to play computer games.
“I’ll have that report on McKenna by five today or you can start clearing out your office.”
As soon as he slammed the door, I started the purification process, not on my resume but on Greg’s background. I made him good, but not too good, hoping I might in my fictionalized account hit on some truths. In our child-centered encounters, aside from political views and his parenting philosophy, I had actually learned little about him — except references to hiking in Colorado. I realize now that I was unwilling to probe so that if pressed by the party, I could function like a spy who knows only a small piece of the puzzle.
The Greg McKenzie for Will’s Eyes Only had won a basketball scholarship to the University of Colorado, but had a mediocre first year along with problems with grades. He dropped out of school for a year and worked as a guide for fishermen and hunters, but returned to the academic life at Sayres Junior College in Wyoming, where he excelled, and returned to the university to graduate with a degree in political science. He went to law school, didn’t make the Law Review, but passed the bar on his first try. After school, he worked at a firm specializing in corporate law. When his wife died, he was so preoccupied that he forgot to pay several hundred dollars’ worth of parking fines and had to go to traffic court or lose his license.
At four-thirty, I hand-delivered the goods on the nonexistent Greg McKenna.
Without a word, Will motioned me to sit on the chair next to him, a strategically placed seat for those destined for up-close-and-personal bawling-outs. The almost spotless report I turned in merited a stentorian outburst: “Pure unadulterated pap… paying you six figures for this junk… this guy can give our party trouble… you find out he had some parking tickets… where did you get this stuff from, the Little Scouts Monitor?… I want dirt and you give me the cleanest little boy in the class… you’re losing it.”
When he paused for breath, I amazed myself by standing up and shouting, “No, you’re losing it. You’ve wallowed in mud so long you can’t believe that there’s anybody out there who’s decent. This is a good man, Will Stafford, a real novelty in our line of work. And by the way, I’m sick of digging up dirt. I quit!”
Backing away, but not out of fear, I headed toward the door, where I paused for a second to give Will rebuttal time, to launch a string of his pithy epithets that would have furthered my resolve to quit. Nothing. Only a full second of ponderous silence. Ominous, but I didn’t care. For the first time since becoming his employee, I felt noble.
At home, I composed my short and noble resignation letter: “I can no longer participate in a process that believes in the inherent evil in all human beings.” Two days later I received a letter from Wilclass="underline" “Resignation not accepted. You’ve been working too hard and I regret going off about Greg McKenna. Enclosed is vacation pay.”
Wow! I had bullied a bully and won. I practically skipped into the natural-history museum to meet Greg and Melissa for a tour designed for preschoolers. After exchanging a hug with the child, I suggested to Greg that we three lunch afterwards at Delilah’s Deli, a favorite spot of Will and his staffers. Now that Will had accepted the fact that I couldn’t find anything on Greg, I had no reason to hide from my boss. In fact, my going public would show Will how hard I tried to get inside Greg’s head. But instead of responding happily to the idea of going to lunch at an adult place, Greg frowned.
“Listen, I have a favor to ask of you. I have to meet a client nearby for a deposition that won’t take long. I was going to ask you if you could stay with Melissa for the hour and then I’ll pick her up. She’ll have lunch at day care.”
Although acutely disappointed, I managed a smile as he slipped into the crowd. Unaware that her father had left, Melissa pulled me toward the long line of excited children and advised me not to be afraid of the dinosaurs that we’d see. In the middle of an explanation of the pterodactyl’s eating habits, my mind drifted and slammed into the Big Doubt. Could Greg be hiding us out in children’s places because he was seeing another woman?
There was a way to find out, but I hesitated to use it since pumping a child had never been in my repertoire. However, my need to know quickly muffled the small voice of my newly awakened conscience. As Melissa squeezed closer to me to allow another child to see, I put my arm around her small shoulders. She would know about her father’s friends. I stroked her long blond hair and said, “Melissa, does your daddy have any other friends that he sees a lot?”
“Only Jeff,” she whispered as the docent continued to speak.
Delighted with her answer, I avidly followed the dinosaur’s menus. As the tour was returning to the rotunda, Melissa spun around. Lip quivering, she asked, “Where’s Daddy?” At that moment, Greg waved to her from the end of the line.
“I stayed too long looking at the reptiles,” he told her, “and lost my place.”
At the gift shop, as Melissa debated over buying Terry Pterodactyl or Iggy Iguanodon, Greg said, “I’m sorry about not going to Delilah’s. I just realized that we have had no time alone together and these juvenile outings might not be too interesting for you.”
“Oh no,” I protested, but not too strongly.
“I’m thinking of taking some time off now to gear up for the real work in the primaries. If you can take some time off too, would you like to go away with Melissa and me? Someplace quiet, away from phones and TV? Maybe the mountains?”
“That would be great,” I answered.
“The three of us could have a wonderful time outdoors.”
He paused before adding meaningfully, “And Melissa goes to bed early.”
“That would be great,” I repeated and I actually think I batted my eyelashes. “As a matter of fact, Will just suggested that I take some time off before the heavy hitting starts.”
He smiled, then frowned. “I hope it’s not too late to rent a cabin for next week. I know fall is a popular time in the Poconos.”
“That’s not a problem,” I answered. “As luck would have it, I own a family cabin in the Poconos that I hardly use. I loved it as a child and I know Melissa will too. Absolutely no twenty-first-century intrusions. It’s completely stocked with nonperishable food. Hospitality of the mountains, you know.”
“Fantastic.” He smiled.
We sealed the arrangement with a surreptitious kiss behind a display of children’s books.
To eliminate worries about anyone finding incriminating material in my office, I shredded files for three days. Officially on vacation, I was interrupted only once. Eve stopped in one morning looking for more work.
“Looks like you’re clearing out,” she said. “New job?”
“No, just a vacation.”
“No business for me, then, while you’re away?”
“No.” I smiled.
“Not even some more sleuthing on McKenna, the ID thief?”
“Not even on him.”
“I think you’re making a mistake,” she said on her way out.
The first chill of foreboding hit me.
“I don’t think so,” I said softly.
“Suit yourself. Ta ta.”
The morning of the fourth day, I packed for the mountains — plenty of jeans and tees, but also a teddy or two, just in case. Since Greg wasn’t to pick me up until twelve-thirty, I had time to go into the office to finish purging the files, not realizing that henceforth I would look upon this day of mindless chores as the best day of my life, the day I’d return to in a nanosecond if only God let us shift our life gears into reverse.