Love Octagon
by Felicia Rogers
Published by Astraea Press
www.astraeapress.com
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2012 FELICIA ROGERS
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
LOVE OCTAGON
Copyright © 2012 FELICIA ROGERS
ISBN 978-1-936852-96-3
Cover Art Designed by ELAINA LEE
Edited by EM PETROVA
To my family and friends…
Prologue
Kevin stood ramrod straight at the front of the crowd. Everyone in the room was staring at him. His breath came in short, rasping gulps. He reached for his throat. The purple silk cravat, which lay upon his chest, was crooked. Yeah, that was it. He wasn't a bundle of nerves. He didn't have cold feet. Tidiness was the problem.
"Don't be nervous," said Mark, his best man.
Kevin nodded, causing sweat to roll down his neck and under his collar. Sure. "Don't be nervous," he says.
"Hey, what are you two whispering about?" asked Jerry from the corner of his mouth, a smile plastered on his face.
"Kevin's nervous," said Mark.
"I am not nervous."
"Psst, men, you need to be quiet. The service is about to start."
"Sorry."
"Humph," the reverend replied, pulling his shoulders back.
Jerry shot the reverend a hard look before turning to face Mark. "Why is he nervous?"
"Who wouldn't be nervous? The poor soul is giving his life away. He's going to be tied down to one woman for the rest of his days. No more shopping around for other models. This is it."
Jerry shook his head and rolled his eyes. Kevin concurred. Mark was out of his mind. After all Kevin had been through, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt this was what he wanted. More than anything he wanted to be "tied down."
Kevin whispered, "It can't be as bad as when there were seven."
"What?" Mark asked.
Kevin cleared his throat. "Nothing. I didn't say anything."
Mark shrugged. In a hushed tone, he began arguing with Jerry over the institution of marriage. Kevin kept his gaze riveted on the back doors. Tom and Fred walked into his line of vision as they escorted guests to their seats. All smiles and welcomes, they had taken to the job like ducks to water. He'd worried they would be angry when they didn't get to stand up with him. But they hadn't been angry—they'd been pleased. Tom's tendency toward conspiracy kept him from wanting to be displayed in front of the crowd. And Fred… Well, Fred, he wanted to meet women. Kevin and the others were all for this goal.
Looking around his two friends, Kevin wondered when the ceremony would start. How long did the groom have to stand and wait? He would've thought he'd have learned some patience by now. With what Kevin had been through the past year, he should have acquired the patience of Job. Old habits die hard, he guessed.
The three men shifted from side to side. A person could only stand in one place for so long before he got dizzy. To have something to do, Kevin bent his head and stared at his feet.
Then the sound of music filled the air. Not just any music, but the music. It was the "Wedding March." Lifting his chin off his chest, Kevin focused on the back of the room.
The entire congregation stood and stared down the aisle. At the door was the most beautiful creature; she appeared as his own personal angel. Beside her was her father, his face beaming. Clearly this was a proud moment for them both. Kevin watched the unspoken emotions playing across their faces. One day he would be able to look at his wife and communicate in such a way. They would grow together, learn together, love together.
How had he been so blessed to know this woman? How had it all begun? Some fell in love with a simple glance. Some dated for years and years before realizing they loved one another. Some never found "the one." But for Kevin, love had come in the strangest of ways. One might say it was like being hit by a bolt of lightning. Or that it was a miracle. Whatever the case, his life had changed forever just one short year ago. It was a week of vacation he would never forget.
As his mind focused back on the scene before him and his future wife took her first step down the aisle, Kevin whispered a breathless, "Angela…"
Chapter One
Friday, October 5th
One Year Earlier
The day started like any other day for Kevin. Get up, drive to work, do the job, and wait. Then came the brief time he and the other workers looked forward to: break time. Fifteen minutes of sitting with the guys and hanging out around the water cooler—or the break room, as it were. Fifteen minutes of jawing about trivial things. Fifteen blissful minutes without some customer jumping on his back or down his throat. One of these days he wouldn't be on the call floor. He would work his way up to some cushy position where he could sit back in an office—not a cubicle. He would be the boss.
With this pleasant thought in his mind, Kevin walked into the break room. There they were, Mark, Jerry, Fred, and Tom—the guys. Feet were propped up on tables, chairs, and every available elevated surface. Soda cans were popped open as laughter filled the room.
The guys weren't the only ones on break, however. In the opposite corner sat Angela. Angela Jones. A newspaper was clutched in her hand, and a pencil tapped against her pearly white teeth. Click, click, click.
During her breaks, she worked the daily puzzle. That day, as she pondered the words, her glasses slipped down her nose, and Kevin caught a glimpse of her chocolate-colored eyes. Despite the florescent-lit room, her hair shone like the color of honey.
Kevin focused his gaze on her movement. Whenever she concentrated, she had a habit of twisting her hair around her first two fingers. Would she do it now?
Before Kevin could observe her actions, his thoughts were interrupted. "Hey Kevin!" Jerry yelled, motioning him over to the table and offering him a seat.
"How's it going on the floor today?" asked Mark. He worked in the technical department of the call center, solving computer problems. When a computer was on the blink, Mark was the one responsible for troubleshooting. Kevin couldn't help but be jealous. He spent his time at work placing orders and haggling with irate customers. Truth was, Mark enjoyed one of the benefits of getting a college degree—more money and less boredom.
"Not bad," Kevin answered.
"I hear someone's taking some time off." Jerry leaned in closer and whispered, "Planning on spending any quality time with your girlfriend Angela?"
Kevin was used to the good-natured ribbing. They'd pestered him for details ever since the one time he'd taken Angela out. But he hadn't given in then, and he wasn't likely to give in now. It was none of their business how the date had gone.
"No, man," Fred piped up. "He ain't using his time off to date no girl. He has big plans, right? You're flying to Paris or going to Cancun or something, right? Go ahead; tell them I'm right." Fred leaned back in his chair with a smug look.
Boy was Kevin about to burst his bubble.
"Well, I do have plans, but nothing along those lines. I was thinking I'd use this week to do some things around the house. I mean, I haven't mowed the yard in so long it looks like a jungle. Then I have a gutter, that is constantly leaking, that I need to fix. Then I need to redo some of the pavers on my patio out back. Not to mention all the things inside the house."
Kevin noticed their astonished faces. Tom spoke first, breaking the spell. "You know what? I was watching one of those talk shows the other day."
"Oh no, here we go again. Either it's Dr. Phil with some word of wisdom or Jerry Springer where someone got the snot beat out of them. Next, he'll be quoting words of wisdom from the tabloids. Like last week when he claimed there was a monkey man running through his yard."
Tom sat up straighter. "Hey, now! The monkey man story was true. Scientists proved the whole thing! And I didn't say it was in my yard. I said the creature was in my neighbor's yard. You need to listen better. One of these days you are going to wish you'd listened to old Tom. Now hush, and let me finish. Sometimes it is impossible for a man to get a word in edgewise around here. Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I was watching this talk show and there was this guy and he was saying how all he does is sit around on his can because his wives do everything."
No one said anything and Tom began to look frustrated. "Didn't you hear me?"
"Yeah, we heard you. You said his wife does everything." Jerry shrugged, apparently not understanding why it was such a big deal.
"No, I didn't say his wife did everything; I said his wives do everything. The guy had like ten wives or something. He said he had one for every chore! Now if you had some women, then you could just sit back and relax on your vacation. Your wives would just take care of everything. They'd do all the cleaning you were talking about, and then you could go on some exotic vacation. That's the ticket."
Mark said, "Sure. Sounds great. Kevin could have one to cook the meals, one to clean the house, one to make the money, one to spend the money, one to have the babies—if you know what I mean—one to take care of the yard, and then one as a spare. Hey, how many did I say, like seven? Yeah, seven gives you one woman for every day of the week!"
"Sure, what a plan," Kevin agreed. "I'll just run out and find seven women and hook up real quick so they can stay home this week and clean for me." Kevin shook his head and rolled his eyes. Honestly, his friends were crazy.
Jerry clasped his hands together tightly. "Well I think if you want more than one wife, you should have to live with all of them at the same time. Like Solomon of old"
"Oh, wisdom from one who knows. By the way Jerry, when do we get to meet this mystery wife of yours?"
Jerry shifted in his seat.
Nothing more was said on the subject as the break bell rang and each of the men stood up and headed back to their stations. Before they left the room completely, Mark asked, "So are we on for tomorrow night?"
"I've done my part," said Kevin.
"Good. That means you didn't forget the food like Tom did last time."
Tom drew his eyebrows downward. "Well, excuse me, Mark. But I don't use sticky notes to remind myself, I don't have my parents to remind me, and I don't have a wife."
Fred asked, "And how did Kevin remember?"
"Who knows? Who cares? I'm just glad we are getting together for the barbeque. We do it so little nowadays." Tom shot a sideways glance toward Jerry, but he was already gone down the hallway and back to his station.
No one spoke as they headed out into the hall. As he walked through the opening of his cubicle, Kevin glanced over his shoulder at Angela. Her head was still bent as she studied the black words written on the paper in front of her.
Kevin wondered what she thought of the guys and their conversations. They had discussed everything from getting together to the benefits of polygamy. Shaking his head and snorting under his breath, he thought, Seven wives, indeed.
Chapter Two
Saturday…
Morning, the first day of his weeklong vacation, and Kevin had overslept. Which was okay. This was the first day. He could take it easy today. He might lay back and watch a couple of games on the tube. No manual labor needed to be accomplished. There was plenty of time for such an endeavor later.
Then Kevin remembered the guys. They were coming over for a barbeque today. One day after work last week, he'd gone and picked up the amount of food they would need. And it was a good thing, too. Even though he didn't have to start the home repairs today, he still needed to clean up a few things. Now after sleeping late, he was running so far behind he would be lucky to clear a path to the bathroom before they arrived.
Kevin pulled himself out of bed, grabbed jeans and a T-shirt from a pile on the bedroom floor, and dressed quickly. Passing by the bathroom mirror, he wondered if he should take time to shave. The five o'clock shadow lingering on his cheekbones made him more distinguished, right?
Bending his chin down to the right and angling his head upward and to the left, Kevin attempted to swoop back his hair. But the thick, light brown strands weren't long enough, making the move look odd even to him.
After deciding to leave the stubble and to stop worrying about his hair, Kevin glanced around behind him, checking to ensure no one was looking. He laughed to himself at his silliness. He lived alone. Who could possibly be watching? However, he checked anyway, and when he was positive he was alone, he raised his arms in a flexed position.
"Now that's the ticket." Biceps bulged against the black T-shirt. Sticking his chest out, Kevin twisted sideways. "Yep, the pecs are getting bigger. I'm awesome. The women dig me. But they also think I'm crazy for talking to myself."
Kevin snapped out of this self-worship. For the next little while, he shoved and pushed all the stray items from the hallway into some dark corner or closet. When he finished, he stood at the back door in the kitchen and looked around. Now, there was line of sight from the kitchen, down the hall, all the way to the living area. One of these days, he would own a nice grand home with a dining room, but for now this was it. The house didn't look quite so bad with all the doors closed and the main thoroughfare clear of debris.
For this evening's event, he had moved everything needed to cook the meal to the backyard outside. This way the guys wouldn't have to actually go in the house to help him retrieve anything. Kevin didn't want them snooping around his clutter. But just in case they did go inside and stumble upon something, he had an idea. When they arrived, he would tell them to ignore the mess. That always worked everywhere he'd gone.
Upon entering, the homeowner would casually announce, "Oh, please ignore my mess." And everyone would politely answer, "What mess?" They all knew the place was a filthy pigsty, but they couldn't hurt the host's feelings, so they pretended to see nothing. The plan was sheer brilliance.
Sighing deeply, Kevin pulled his shoulders back and strutted. What did he care about his messy house? Pride escalated at his ability to maintain such a home without the cockroaches taking over. His shoulders fell forward. Best to keep it this way, and keep the men out. If they went back and told his mother, boy, would he be in trouble.
Around six o'clock, Kevin's buddies began to arrive. Mark was first. He was a serious man and punctual without fault. He always arrived precisely thirty minutes earlier than he was told. To remember all his appointments and responsibilities, he used sticky notes. Their friends often joked Mark's wallpaper was made of nothing but sticky notes. The excuse given for Mark's bachelorhood was that a woman could never follow his time schedule. Kevin believed it.
Then there was Fred. He dreamed big. But he'd never actually done anything. Never went anywhere. He lived with his parents and worked in the credit department at the call center. He was constantly encouraging the guys to go places and do things so he could live vicariously through them. He'd suggested hiking in Hawaii, a cruise to Alaska that ended in sleeping on the ice, and once he even tried to encourage Kevin to open a modeling agency. When his buddies enjoyed life, he did as well.
Next was Jerry. He worked in the complaints department. He was a religious man who attended church regularly with his wife. Sometimes he acted completely obsessed with Kevin being with Angela. When Jerry wasn't receiving calls about broken items or products not in stock or countless other complaints, he was dwelling on how Kevin and Angela had dated. Kevin had shared nothing about their one date with Jerry, which was most likely the problem. But whatever the case, Jerry knew what their kids would look like, how many years they would be married, and what their complaints against one another would be.
And last but not least was Tom. Tom was the strangest one of the bunch. He was the one who watched the talk shows and took them to heart. He read the supermarket tabloids religiously. He was gullible. In high school, a couple of football players had taken him "snipe hunting." They took him out into the woods with a flashlight and a feed bag and left him there. They told him he wasn't allowed to return until he caught the thing. Tom was there all night looking for it. He wasn't about to admit he didn't know what a snipe was. After the episode, Mark, Jerry, Fred, and Kevin had pity on the poor boy and took him under their wing. Tom clearly needed protection.
That afternoon when everyone arrived, they sat out back around a fire pit waiting for the food to cook. Iced tea in his hand, Kevin looked around at his friends. His shoulders were tight with tension but fortunately no one had commented on the lack of yard maintenance. He'd barely had time to straighten the interior of the house, and he'd completely forgotten the outside. Biting the inner part of his mouth, he waited.
"This is good. I feel like we haven't gotten together in a long time," said Fred.
"And why is it you feel this way?" asked Tom, looking covertly at Jerry.
"Well, some of us had to go and get responsibilities. Imagine running away and getting married, and we weren't even invited. I still can't believe it."
"Are you talking about me, Mark?" asked Jerry.
"Yes."
Jerry stared at the liquid in his glass. Kevin waited for him to defend himself, but he said nothing. Not Mark, Tom, Fred, or him had ever talked about what had happened. Kevin thought if Jerry wanted them to know more about his wife then he would say something. If he wanted them to know more about his family and his life then he would tell them. The awkward feeling in the air persisted. Kevin was going to squirm in his seat if someone didn't say something and soon.
"Now we aren't getting together so we can sit around arguing like a bunch of chuckling hens. We are here to cut up and talk about baseball, women, and apple pie. Got it?" commanded Tom.
Mark and Jerry nodded.
"Hey Kevin, something smells pretty good," said Mark, trying to change the subject.
"It should. It's your recipe."
"Not again! How come we never try anything different? When you go to Spain, can you look for a different recipe?"
"So Fred, now I'm going to Spain?"
"But of course! I hear Spanish women are famous for their cooking, their looks, and their ability to take care of a husband."
"Is that so?"
"Oh, yes."
"And where did you hear this, Fred?" asked Kevin.
"Probably from Tom," said Jerry with sarcasm.
"Nope, it wasn't from me. I haven't seen a show about Spanish women in months. Well, let me take that back. The guy with all the wives on the talk show didn't actually mention the nationality of his wives. So I guess one of them could have been Spanish."
"Tom, I don't believe a Spanish woman would share a man," said Fred with an expression of seriousness.
"And why is that?" said Mark as he twirled his glass.
"Well, I just don't. One Spanish woman is enough for any man."
"He doesn't know. He's just talking to hear himself talk. Honestly, Fred. You need to get out and live a little. Take some of the money you've been rat-holing for years and go somewhere. Get away from your parents for a little while," said Jerry.
"But why? I like it here. I see no reason to blow my hard-earned cash to go anywhere else. Especially when I can pretend I went there simply because you guys went. I get the best of both worlds. I'm saving my money for something really big. Plus, I still feel like I visited somewhere and enjoyed myself."
Kevin and Mark shook their heads. The boy was getting as bad as Tom. Out of the five of them, only Jerry was married. He didn't talk about it much, which was either a good sign or a bad sign. Kevin hadn't decided. Of course, Kevin didn't ask about it either. He figured one reason Jerry encouraged Kevin to date Angela was because then if they got married, Jerry would no longer be the only married one of the group. But Kevin didn't know this for sure.
The five of them sat on the rusty iron furniture on his dilapidated patio and enjoyed the afternoon twilight. Once the food was ready, they ate in relative silence until Jerry spoke up.
"Tom, I got a question for you. When the guy on the TV show was talking about all his wives, did he say anything about children?"
Tom chewed and swallowed before speaking. "I don't remember. But you would think with all those wives, he would have had some children. Now there's a concept I might be able to wrap my mind around."
The men snickered, all except Jerry. Then all was quiet. Nothing but the sound of the wind whistling through the fence could be heard, and then Mark spoke. "Well I'm never having children."
Jerry widened his eyes as he said, "Mark, how can you already decide not to have children? You're not even married yet. Haven't you thought about passing on your name?"
"Let me just tell you, children can be a handful—a regular mess. My sister called me last week, laughing so hard I couldn't hardly understand a word she was saying. I just about hung up and told her to call me back when she settled down. But finally she was able to tell me what was so funny. It seems my nephew was playing outside with a lizard. And they were all there watching him, having some kind of family get-together, I think. And the kid picks up this seven-inch lizard and puts it in his mouth."
"Yuck. That's not funny. It's just disgusting."
"Oh, it gets better, Fred. The boy thought he could just hold the lizard in his mouth and then pull it back out. But when he went to pull the thing, it grabbed a hold of him and tried to crawl down his throat!"
"Are you serious?"
"Oh, yeah. The kid was coughing and spitting and gagging. And the adults were laughing so hard they couldn't even help him! I think my sister told me eventually the poor lizard let go and they were able to get it out. But that's why I say, no kids for me. They do some of the craziest things."
"I think I can do you one better," said Jerry.
"How can you do one better than a kid getting choked by a lizard? There is no way you have something better. That is a classic."
"Just let me try, okay? My sister remarried, right? And this new guy, well, he dips snuff."
"Man, do we have to talk about this stuff? Snuff is more disgusting than a lizard any day."
"Fred, please. You're sounding more sissified every day. You have to get out more. And don't interrupt; it gets worse. Much worse. Anyway, the new husband dips snuff and he's bad for leaving his spit bottles all over the place. And my niece is bad for picking up other people's drinks and drinking them, and well—"
"Don't say it! Just don't say it!" pleaded Tom.
"I guess you know what happened. My sister said the little girl was warned, but she picked up the bottle and took a big swig anyway. I think she has a listening problem."
Fred placed his hand over his mouth. Forming words around it, he said, "Kevin, I think I need to use your bathroom."
"What for?"
"I need to hurl, man. Disgusting!"
Kevin shook his head at Fred and laughed. "Jerry, does it make you want kids or not?"
"I don't know," said Jerry with a downcast expression.
Kevin sensed his buddy was hiding something but decided to let it go.
After the conversation on children, the five of them started discussing their scars. Tom clearly had the most impressive one. When he was younger, he'd jumped over a couch and landed on a crochet hook. It had pierced his skin and went all the way through his arm. The men cringed and grabbed their forearms with moans of fake pain. At the end of the story, Tom puffed out his chest and explained how his step-dad had ripped the thing out. He'd never even seen a doctor for his wound.
The talk of scars went on for what seemed like hours. During the time Kevin had visitors, only once did one of them go to the bathroom. Of course, it would be Tom. He was the nosiest of the bunch. If anyone could discover Kevin's disaster of a house, it would be him. Kevin wanted to say, "stay on the path," like he'd heard in some old movie.
It appeared Tom went to the bathroom and came straight back. Not a word was said. Kevin had expected him to come back and tell how he faced the ten-foot high dirty clothes villain. But Tom's face didn't register any kind of shock. Kevin assumed his friend had stayed on the path, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps Kevin wouldn't have to read the tabloids for the next couple of weeks to make sure his home wasn't a featured article after all.
When the guys left a couple of hours later, Kevin returned to his earlier position. He found his recliner and spent what remained of the afternoon lounging around. The dishes from the barbeque were stacked up in the sink. The laundry was still piled on the floor. Cola cans and plastic containers still littered the coffee table and end tables.
By one a.m., Kevin's head was slung back against the top of the recliner and drool was running down his chin as he snored. A noise woke him. Catching sight of the clock, Kevin picked his sluggish body off the chair and headed for bed. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'd get to work for sure.
Chapter Three
Sunday…
The next day, the ringing of the phone woke him.
"Hello," Kevin answered in a sleep-filled voice.
"Kevin! Kevin! Aren't you up yet? You missed church again."
"Mom, is it you?"
"Well, of course, it's me. Who else would be calling your slovenly behind and trying to kick start your butt into gear? What's wrong with you, boy?"
"Ah, Mom."
"Don't 'ah, Mom' me. It's one in the afternoon! Are you coming over for dinner or not? I've been saving this plate until it has done gone cold."
How could it be so late? Kevin rolled over on his side and sat up. His body was sore and his head hurt something terrible.
"Mom, I don't believe I'm going to be able to make it. I'm not feeling so good."
"Are you sick?"
"I don't think so."
"I bet you stayed up too late. Or it might have been something you ate. I bet that's it. Or maybe…"
Kevin's head beat a steady rhythm of pain as his mother's voice droned on and on. She'd attributed his not feeling well to everything from allergies to the President. It was obviously a government conspiracy to keep him from coming to visit.
In reality it was probably nothing more than lingering in the bed too long. The longer Kevin slept, the more he wanted to sleep. Kevin's theory was it was just a common case of lethargy.
As his mother droned on and on, Kevin realized if he didn't interrupt her soon, she would start a rundown of all the home remedies he could use as a cure. Her favorite "treatment" to recommend was castor oil, known to do everything from curing headaches and muscles pains to starting a woman's labor. One of these days he expected her to recommend toadstools, batwings, or beaver claws as a cure.
When his mother stopped to breathe, Kevin eased into the conversation. "I think I'll feel better if I get up and move around. Besides, I've got too much work to do around here. I'll come next Sunday, okay?"
"You work too hard. You need to relax more."
"Ah, Mom. I promise to take my time. I'll relax as much as I can. Don't worry." Moms! They always envisioned their babies slaving away. If they only knew!
Kevin finally agreed with her. Doing so was the quickest way to get off the phone. When they hung up, Kevin laid back down and stared at the ceiling. Stretching his arms above his head to release his muscles, he rolled back to the side of the bed, sat up, and glanced around the room.
Dirty clothes were scattered across the floor in huge piles. An odor of mildew pervaded his nostrils as he rifled through one of the piles trying to locate some clean clothes.
He lifted each item and gave it the sniff test. Surely all of these weren't dirty. But as he put them to his nose, a couple of pieces were so rank he carried them to the garbage can and threw them directly in.
Next, Kevin headed toward the kitchen. His belly rumbled as he opened the refrigerator door. He stuck his head inside and groaned. Last night's little soiree had more than cleaned him out. His freezer and icebox were almost completely empty. One inch of clabbered milk in the bottom of a gallon jug was all that remained. A loaf of bread covered in a layer of green fuzz and some lunchmeat dotted with black and white spots sat on the counter.
Sighing internally, Kevin realized he was going to have to make a trip to the grocery store. Walking to his junk drawer, he rifled through the mess until he found a piece of paper. As he went to retrieve it, he found the drawer was stuck. He tugged and tugged, smiling when the paper came free, until he realized it hadn't come alone. The heavy, wooden drawer popped out, landing with a thud on the floor. Its contents spilled everywhere. Batteries, screwdrivers, old bills, pens, pencils, and all matter of odds and ends littered the area.
Kevin sighed. No sweat. He would pick it up later with everything else. Grabbing a pen from the mess, he pulled a chair out from under the small, round table, and sat down to make a list. Gnawing on the inside of his lip, Kevin had an idea. Maybe there was food inside the cabinets.
Weaving around the mess on the floor, Kevin rifled through each of the cabinets, only finding a few empty cereal boxes and some rat droppings. Had he eaten out every day?
Plopping back down at the table with a resounding sigh, Kevin pulled the paper close and set to work. After the list was ready, he grabbed his keys, hopped in the car, and drove to the local market.
Shuffling into the store with confidence, he planned to get a few things and be out of here in no time. He could easily accomplish half of his tasks around the house today then spend the rest of the week enjoying himself with some nice relaxation.
As Kevin swaggered down the aisle, the cold section came first. Looking at the list, he picked a few items and added them to the buggy. Couple of items to pop in the microwave, maybe a vegetable or two, and something to satisfy the sweet tooth. Kevin opened the freezer door and grabbed a gallon of milk. What he saw caused his jaw to drop open. Three dollars and forty-eight cents for one gallon of milk! Are these people nuts! Have cows gone on strike? Maybe they've formed a union. Surely this was it. Otherwise there would be no reason for milk to be so expensive.
Thinking this would be his only incident of high prices, Kevin sighed, shook his head, and kept shopping. As he continued to walk through the aisles and pick up the items from the list, his irritation rose.
Every product Kevin purchased had a price tag that caused him to cringe. Placing his hand in his back pocket, he pulled his wallet free. The soft leather opened in his hands. With a glance at what rested inside, he shook his head. Dollars counted, he realized if he purchased everything he needed then he might not be able to purchase that video game he wanted. Releasing a pent-up breath, his mind a whir, he tried to think of how he could save money. That was when he saw a couple of women grabbing little papers from a machine, and he went to investigate what they were doing. Following their example, he pulled one out and heard a whirring noise as another shot forward. The paper was a coupon for seventy-five cents off of pizza rolls. This was what he'd been looking for. A way to save money. Pizza rolls, he could eat them. For the right price, of course.
It took two times down the frozen food aisle to find what he was looking for. When Kevin found the pizza rolls, he was shocked to find the product would still be over two dollars even with his little special piece of paper. He grunted and stuck the coupon in the freezer. Let someone else eat the things.
Shaking his head with aggravation, Kevin backed out of the freezer. When he faced his buggy, he almost ran right into someone. It was Angela.
"Oh, excuse me," he said.
"Kevin, is that you? I didn't recognize you without your tie and dress clothes."
"Yeah, this is my secret identity. Relaxed man."
Angela covered her mouth, hiding a giggle. Clearing her throat, she shyly asked, "How are you enjoying your weekend? Have you completed any of your work yet?"
"Work?"
"Yeah, I mean those things you wanted to get done around the house. You know, mowing the lawn, fixing the pavers. I heard you and the guys talking at work. I didn't mean to eavesdrop on your conversation in the break room. It was just, you know, impossible not to overhear."
"Yeah, we weren't exactly being quiet." Hastily he tried to review the conversation from the break room in his mind to make sure he hadn't said anything inappropriate.
"You know if you need any help, I've finished some of my own projects. I could come over and help with yours. I have vacation this week too."
Kevin immediately answered, "Naw, I got it. But thanks for the offer."
"Okay."
Kevin sensed some regret. Surely Angela didn't actually want to come over and help him clean? He scratched his head before saying, "Well, I guess I better get going. Those projects aren't going to fix themselves."
"Yeah, sure."
Kevin left her there, feeling the heat from her gaze as she continued to stare at his retreating form. A quick glance at his wristwatch showed the time as four o'clock. He'd spent two hours in here! He finished quickly and ran to the check out.
His total bill was over three hundred dollars. He couldn't believe it. Of course, his bill wouldn't have been so bad had he not been out of everything. Soap, dishwashing liquid, laundry detergent, how had he let it get so out of hand? He needed to think of a better system.
Kevin argued with himself all the way home. Not only was he upset about the money, but now another day had passed by and he'd still not gotten anything done. It was okay, right? After all, he had all week.
Chapter Four
When Kevin pulled into his driveway, he groaned. His front yard was free of clutter but the grass was still ankle high. How come the imaginary gremlins hadn't dropped by while he was out and cleaned this up for him? Seemed he would just have to do it himself.
Shaking his head, Kevin emerged from his vehicle. The flag was down on the mailbox, so he headed there first. As he walked, he plotted out his work. First he probably needed to straighten the house up. Do the laundry, dishes, and that kind of thing. Or maybe he should mow. The yard was the first thing people saw. Everything else could be hidden. Yeah, it could work. Mow tomorrow.
Once Kevin closed the lid on the empty mailbox, he walked back to the car. His jobs outlined in his mind, he popped the trunk open and peered inside. It was loaded with bag upon bag of groceries. With a grunt, he picked up four plastic bags in each hand and headed toward the door. The thin plastic handles threatened to slice the meaty part of his fingers in two.
When finally Kevin reached the front door of his two-bedroom cottage home, he attempted to shift all eight bags to one hand. He needed one hand free to dig in his pocket for the door keys. But as the bags shifted, one split, causing an avalanche of large metal cans to rain down on his sandaled feet. Gasping out loud, Kevin dropped the remaining seven bags to the ground. Their contents spilled out onto the concrete stoop and rolled over into the grass.
Yipping and yelling, Kevin hopped around in pain. Bending over, he examined his foot. As far as he could tell there were no open wounds. At least it didn't seem to be bleeding. It was, however, turning a nice shade of purple.
Sighing heavily, Kevin unlocked the door and went to push it back, but it seemed to be stuck. With all his weight, he leaned against it but it wouldn't budge. Peeking through the living room window revealed that one of his shelves, which had previously been attached to the wall, had come loose and fallen over in front of the door, barring his entrance.
Kevin studied the mess through the mesh of a window screen. Here was one more project to add to the ever-growing list. Releasing a pent-up breath, he picked up the groceries and placed them in the bags without holes, picking out the blades of grass as he went.
Going to the side of the house, he opened the wooden gate. As he walked toward the back entrance, he cringed at the backyard. If the front yard had grass ankle deep then the backyard held grass that was knee high. He might need a bush hog or a swing sickle to clean this out. Complaining under his breath he continued on to the back door.
By the time Kevin opened the back door his fingers were on fire. It took five trips to get all the groceries in. When he finished, Kevin was exhausted. Staring at the small kitchen littered with white plastic, he almost called his mother. Surely she would come and help him. Honestly after all the hauling, he had no energy left to put the stuff away.
A quick glance at the microwave clock told Kevin it was almost six in the evening. No wonder he felt weak. It was past dinner. What would it hurt if the groceries waited a little longer before being put up? Surely there was no harm in it.
From one of the bags, Kevin picked up a frozen meal, opened it, and popped it into the microwave. While the microwave whirred and did its job, Kevin grabbed a caffeinated soda from its box and poured it over some ice. Once everything was finished, he stepped high to avoid trampling the stuff. The final destination was the couch in the living room.
When Kevin walked in the room, his mouth gaped open. The shelf that had fallen down was the shelf containing his CDs. The cases had opened, and the round disks now were spread out all over the floor. Didn't that just figure.
He had no energy to deal with it right now. If the groceries could wait, then the CDs would have to wait as well. It wasn't like anyone would mess with them. And there was no danger of someone coming in and picking them up for him. He'd just pick them up later. No problem. With the issue resolved in his mind, Kevin headed over to the sofa, grabbing the remote on the way, and plopped down.
Flipping past Lifetime's female movie of the week, skipping past TLC's get-rid-of your-clutter show, he settled for ESPN classic. The channel was having a marathon of old boxing matches. They were showing an old Cassius Clay and Sonny Liston fight. Halfway through the fight, Kevin was done eating, but he couldn't get up until the match was over, right?
He watched the old black-and-white boxing match until the end then got up and headed back to the kitchen. Unfortunately, the mess didn't look any better on this side of eating than it had before. The only way to get it done was just to dive in and do it, he guessed.
The frozen and cool foods were first on the agenda. Some of the stuff was already starting to melt and get warm. Hopefully, he hadn't waited too long.
Placing his feet strategically in between debris from his junk drawer and the plastic food bags, he leaned over and picked up a gallon of milk in one hand while clutching ice cream with the other. But the ice cream had melted, and as he grabbed it, he accidentally pinched a little too hard, sending the ice cream in a spurt about three feet. The arc of sweet liquid landed on the cabinet in front of him. Lifting a hand up, he watched as ice cream ran down his arm and landed on the one clean spot left on the tiled floor.
"Unbelievable," he muttered.
Kevin placed the soggy, dripping ice cream container in the sink, wiped down the cabinet and the floor with a dry paper towel, and went back to putting away his groceries. When he finished, he leaned back and surveyed his handiwork.
The fridge was stocked. The dry goods all put away. The only remaining items were things that belonged in the bathroom or the laundry room. Those could be put off until tomorrow. Right now he had other more important things to do. Like check email.
When Kevin had been in the living room earlier, he'd removed his socks. Now as he walked out of the kitchen, his foot fell to the floor and it stuck. Picking up his heel, he winced as he peeled his foot off the tile. Must have been where the ice cream had spilt.
Instead of wasting extra steps, he leaned forward and grasped the dishrag that lay across the sink. It was still moist, and he used it to clean his foot before throwing it back in the sink. The ice cream mess could just wait until later. He was on a mission.
He spent the next several hours on the computer. First, Kevin deleted all the junk mail. Then he checked the recent posts on his personal Facebook page. Next, he surfed the web. On Youtube he searched for old songs. By the time he finished, the sky was dark, and it was time for bed.
Kevin stretched and yawned. What a day! Looking around the spare room, he cringed. This room wasn't any better than the rest. There was definitely some work to do, no question about it.
He would start tomorrow for sure.
Chapter Five
Monday…
Kevin's alarm clock blared at seven a.m. With a groan he opened his eyes and stared at the infernal contraption. He hit the snooze button repeatedly, but somehow the beeping continued. Rolling over, he jerked the plug from the wall, relaxing as the noise ended. Sunlight peeped through the bedroom window, and he pulled the covers over his head. In the quiet, dark room, his eyelids drifted shut once more.
When Kevin finally awoke, it was already time for lunch. He tripped and stumbled around the cluttered room until he reached the kitchen. Coffee. All he needed was coffee.
On the way to the pot, Kevin stepped barefoot onto a sticky patch. This time as his foot pulled loose, it felt like a layer of skin was left behind. The sound like ripping Velcro echoed. Mopping. A new item to add to the ever-growing list.
Kevin finally reached the coffee pot and brewed the hot liquid, leaning against the counter top as he watched the drip, drip, drip of the life-giving substance. Once the coffee was ready, he drank cup after cup. Now, he was ready for the day and the mental list he'd been preparing for hours, days, weeks—no, months—could finally commence.
Before Kevin could dive into cleaning and working, he needed to exercise. Right? Exercise would get the blood flowing and the muscles limber. It has to be before everything else. It would only be proper. After making the decision, Kevin went to his room and pulled off his flannel pajama pants. A new odor swept around him. Had he bathed? He couldn't remember.
What would be the point of bathing before exercising? That would be ridiculous. Besides, there were no clean towels. Kevin couldn't bathe even if he wanted to. He knew what to do. Just a dab of deodorant would do the trick. Surely, it would fix him up until after the workout. It was good to have a little bit of man stink.
Kevin threw on his workout clothes, found his running shoes, and grabbed his MP3 player and his keys. He went to the front door, having forgotten there was no way to get out. Murmuring under his breath, he pivoted on his heel and headed out the back way. He made sure to lock the door and the wooden gate.
He walked along the sidewalk until he arrived at a small park with a running trail. When Kevin reached the trailhead, he flipped the MP3 player on and took off at a jog. He hadn't run far when he saw a familiar face.
Jogging alongside him, Angela said, "Hey, Kevin. I didn't expect to see you here."
"Hey, Angela. What are you up to?"
"Running. I got kind of a late start today. I mowed the lawn first, and since I had more energy, I decided to go for a run."
"Oh, me too. I had so much excess energy I thought I was going to burst."
"Would you like to come over for pizza this afternoon?"
Kevin was surprised by her question. They'd gone out one time, and he'd done the asking. He'd had a good time with her, although it had been awkward. The whole working together every day, and knowing that the guys knew he was dating her, just caused him to never ask her out again. There were just too many differences between them. She seemed to want a permanent, lasting relationship, and he wasn't ready to settle down.
What excuse could Kevin give for not going over to Angela's house? He didn't want to encourage her if he had no intentions of dating her. She was a nice, sweet person, and he didn't want to hurt her feelings by saying he wasn't interested. So, what could he say?
"Well, you know I'd love to, but I've got to get back home and work on my projects. I mean, I've got some things done, of course, but not nearly enough."
"Oh, yeah, sure. I understand. Maybe another time."
"Sure. Sounds great."
"I guess I better head home. I want to paint my living room today."
"Yeah. I'll see you around."
Angela nodded and ran past him. He followed her with curious eyes. She had an attractive figure. And her name suited her perfectly. She had the face of an angel. But still, he had no desire to settle down. He was young and there were plenty of fish in the sea.
As Kevin continued along the trail, his head be-bopping to tunes, he ran through a dark, wooded section. He always lowered his volume when passing through this area. He wanted to be able to hear if anyone approached from behind. Wouldn't do to get mugged.
As he rounded a bend in the trail, Kevin heard a muffled scream. He strained to see through the thick foliage. What he saw caused his palms to sweat and his heart to race. A man wearing a ski mask had his hands wrapped around the neck of an old woman.
Without thinking about the ramifications, Kevin ran toward the pair. The attacker spotted him. His eyes widened, only the whites showing. Without warning, the stranger released the lady.
Kevin lifted his hands and roared like he would to scare away a pesky animal. The attacker backed away, tripping and scrambling to his feet. He ran into the woods, disappearing from view.
Once the attacker was no longer visible, Kevin jogged to the old lady's side. His pulse was racing, his palms sweaty. As he approached, he noted the lady lying on the ground, not moving. With great care, he rolled her onto her back and placed his numb fingers on her neck to feel for a heartbeat.
To a novice like Kevin, her pulse seemed strong. He did a cursory look, checking for blood, but he didn't see any. Looking down at the woman, he noticed she resembled a bag lady. Covered in several layers of clothing, her hands were wrapped with dirty, tattered rags, her feet encased in holey shoes.
Brows knitting in confusion, Kevin wondered what the guy in the ski mask could have possibly wanted from this old lady.
As Kevin studied her face, the old lady opened her eyes. Clear, sharp, and crystal blue in color, the orbs stared at him. Gulping deeply, he asked, "Are you okay?"
"Yes."
"Can I help you up?"
"Yes, please."
Kevin was amazed by her clear, distinct speech. Did he detect the hint of an English accent? Helping her onto a nearby bench, Kevin asked, "Can I call someone for you?"
"No, my child. I'll be fine. Thank you for your assistance."
"Sure. It was nothing. But seriously, maybe we should call the police or something."
"It will not be necessary."
"But the guy was trying to strangle you!"
Kevin thought he saw a smile before she answered. "He would not have harmed me."
"But…"
"Now," she said, clapping her hands together in delight, "for your reward."
"My reward?"
"But of course. You saved my life, and you deserve a reward."
"But—"
"One wish! Yes, one wish it shall be." She appeared to talk to herself for a moment. Then she stood up from the bench and began to back off into the woods, speaking softly as she went. "Your greatest desire shall be fulfilled, one wish you may build."
Kevin watched with eyebrows raised as the old lady vanished into the woods; her words still rang in his ears.
"That was too wild," he said to himself. A wish he could build. What did that even mean? One wish indeed.
Kevin sat on the bench and waited for the woman to return. Perhaps she'd decided to call the police after all. When it appeared the lady wasn't returning, he stood, looked both ways, and set off down the path once again. Maybe he shouldn't have let her go. But it was too late now.
Kevin continued his run, his mind wandering away from the incident with the old, crazy woman and drifting back to Angela. Thoughts of Angela started him thinking about the conversation with the guys from Friday.
Imagine them believing that having multiple wives would be a good thing. Then again, maybe they were on the right track. Just think, if a man had multiple wives he wouldn't have to lift a finger. He could kick back and relax, and everything around him would get done as if by magic. Maybe the guy on the talk show was right after all.
Kevin kept running, listening to his music, when suddenly it stopped. He glanced down and was aggravated to see his MP3 player's charge completely gone.
He needed to go home anyway. It was time to start on those chores. Otherwise they would never get done.
Chapter Six
Kevin jogged to the back door, twisted the knob, and went inside. Sweat drenched his clothes, and he headed directly for the shower. He took his time washing off the grime of the last couple of days. He washed his hair until it squeaked with cleanliness.
Emerging from the shower, he searched for something to dry with. There on the metal bar hanging in the room, he spotted what he needed. A clean towel. Where had that come from? Maybe it had been there all along and he'd missed it earlier. With the shower curtain pulled back, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. One shoulder lifted in a shrug as he grabbed the material and rubbed it across his stubble-covered face.
Vigorously, he rubbed his skin with the thick towel. When he finished he wrapped it low across his hips. Padding into the bedroom, he bent down to pick up the dirty laundry, but the floor was oddly clean. As he walked to the chest of drawers, he peered out the window into his backyard. What he saw had him running and squishing up to the glass. His nose pressed flat against the window, leaving an impression of his face upon the pane.
The yard! It had been mowed!
Quickly, Kevin ran to his bureau and pulled the top drawer open. Inside rested all his clothes. They were clean, folded, and organized.
Kevin was so confused he forgot to dress. Instead, he grasped the towel tightly to his waist and did a jog down the short hallway to the kitchen. The floor tile had been mopped and waxed. The cabinets were wiped clean until they gleamed. The dishes that filled the sink earlier in the morning were nowhere in sight.
Next, he rushed to the living room. The broken shelf from the day before was back in its usual place. Even the CDs were placed in the correct order.
Kevin pivoted slowly on his heel in a wide arc and headed back to his room. He found clean clothes and dressed. Maybe it was a dream? Maybe in the park earlier he hadn't scared off the attacker but instead the attacker had hit him on the head? Maybe he was dead and this was heaven? Or even hell? Maybe his mother had come over and cleaned? Maybe it was the gremlins.
Kevin ran out back. He had to see. He just had to see. Sure enough, the biggest project on his list was complete. The back patio pavers appeared to have been dug up and replaced. He didn't take time to thoroughly inspect the work. He was too shocked. What was this? Could the guys at work be pulling some practical joke?
Kevin walked to the living room and sat down, rubbing his aching head. A pent-up breath released. If he took a nap, would everything be better when he woke?
As he laid back, he looked around the room. His gaze landed on a sight that made him jump to his feet. He focused his stare as he hustled to the location. It couldn't be! It just couldn't be!
"Staring at the wedding photos again, I see."
Kevin whirled around at the sound of a feminine voice. In the doorway stood a tall, slender, lanky thing with short brown hair. The woman resembled a swimsuit model.
She walked to the couch and plopped down in a lounging fashion. In her hand were two cups of steaming coffee. She patted the seat next to her. He knew he must look like an idiot, standing with his mouth gaping open, but he couldn't help it.
Finally, Kevin pushed past his shock and asked, "Who are you?"
She laughed. The sound held a musical quality, sending pleasant tones through his ears. "Who am I? Oh, Kevin my dear, you're too funny. Imagine asking who I am. I know you have a lot of us to remember, but I'm the newest one. And surely I'm not that forgettable."
Kevin's gaze lingered on her frame, noticing her cocoa-colored eyes, her long, slender legs. She was right; if he'd ever seen her before he wouldn't have forgotten her. Trying not to offend, he said, "Would you mind refreshing my memory?"
She sighed with dissatisfaction. Grabbing him by the hand, she pulled him back to the gilded frames. "Fine. I don't know what you're up to, but we'll play your little game, for now." Mumbling under her breath, she added, "I'm number seven and the last. You would have thought I'd be the easiest to remember."
Kevin must have appeared completely dumbfounded because she started talking a little louder and clearer. "I'm Dana Smith, your wife."
"M—my wife?"