The lights of the mall parking lot cast a pale orange-yellow hue over the three remaining cars. Sitting behind the wheel of a sedan that had seen better days, a thin young man with dark hair stared blankly out into the night.
His hands alternately gripped the steering wheel and fidgeted with his cellphone. Several times in the past two hours he had slotted the key in the ignition to turn the engine over, only to quickly shut the engine off.
The night was warm enough that he did not need the use of the heater, but not so warm as to be uncomfortable.
He was uncomfortable though, very uncomfortable.
It was a discomfort born of regret, regret and remorse. He was depressed, and he was angry, and sporadically he felt spasms of shame and oddly, guilt.
Looking at the small screen on his phone, he once again accessed his bank account. The large withdrawals from both his savings and checking seemed to leap out and attack his eyes. The remaining balances were barely the required minimum for keeping the accounts open.
"How," he muttered to himself for perhaps the 100th time that evening, "could I have been that stupid? How?"
Masochistically he recounted the events of the day. Driving off to work, then realizing he had left the load manifest on the coffee table. Turning around to retrieve it, driving down the street towards his house and seeing the dark red pick-up in the driveway.
He was proud of himself for not reacting violently. When he walked in the house and saw what remained of a few rails of coke on a picture frame laying on the coffee table next to the load manifest (A picture frame that held a photo of Anne and him at Disneyland) and heard a man's voice coming from the bedroom, he calmly walked upstairs, silently opened the bedroom door, and watched Anne on her knees servicing a pudgy, long-haired man who looked to be at least 60 years- old.
David stood there for at least a full minute before either of them noticed him. The man was the first one to do so - he looked up from watching Anne swallowing his manhood and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw David standing quietly in the doorway.
"Who the hell are you?!" The old man blurted out while pushing Anne out of the way as he bent down to pull up his pants. Anne twisted around as she was pushed and when she caught sight of David her eyes, wide from the coke she snorted just 10 minutes ago, grew even wider.
"Oh god, David, oh my god, this isn't what it looks like, it's nothing, oh my god!" Anne stammered the words out as she frantically pulled her robe on.
David stepped to the side as the half-dressed old man rushed out of the room, down the stairs, and out the front door.
Anne looked at the silent figure of David. She shook uncontrollably for a few seconds. "Say something goddamn you! Say something! What the hell did you expect me to do when all you do is spend all of your time at work?! You haven't paid attention to me in months!"
Looking at Anne he felt anger welling up inside him. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to maintain control.
"Get out. Get all of your things together, and get out of my house. I'm going to leave now, but when I return, you and everything of yours better be gone."
With a cold glare he turned and walked out. He stopped at the coffee table and picked up the load manifest, glancing at the framed picture of the happy couple.
He drove mechanically to work. When Brett greeted him in the hallway, he handed him the load manifest and told him he would be taking the day off to deal with a personal issue. Brett could see the stress on his face and didn't question him, just told him to let HR know.
When he got in his car he started out heading north on the interstate. He drove for an hour without a particular destination in mind. He just wanted to drive away from the city, away from his house, away from her.
The first text he received from her came when he was stopped at a gas station. He read the message begging him to call her so they could talk things out and immediately deleted it. Over the next hour he received a text message every minute, and then the phone calls started. David resisted the urge to answer the phone and scream every obscenity he could think of into it, He just let it ring. By noon he had 15 voicemail messages.
He pulled into a little diner on the main street of a small town three hours from his home. He needed to get some food in him, get a notebook out and write down a plan of action. He left his phone in the car as it started ringing again.
The small restaurant was busy. There were a few empty stools at the end of the long bar that two waitresses patrolled so he took a seat in the last one. Immediately one of the waitresses approached him with a coffee pot in one hand and a small glass of ice water in the other.
"Good afternoon," the waitress, a woman with a big smile and big hips said as David sat down. "Coffee?"
"Uh, sure," David answered. Can I get honey for my coffee, too?"
"You got it. The specials are up on the board and here's a menu." She said this as she poured his coffee into a cup she had flipped over and set in front of him. Then she walked down the bar and retrieved a plastic bear-shaped bottle of honey from a shelf underneath the bar and returned with it as David scanned the menu.
"Ready?" She had a pen poised over a tablet and smiled brightly at him.
"Yeah, I'll have the meatloaf with the mashed potatoes - does that come with a side salad?"
"It does - would you like dressing? We have Italian, Blue Cheese, Honey Mustard, and Ranch."
"Blue Cheese would be great." David handed her back the menu and she walked back to the serving window.
Opening the small notebook he flipped through to a blank page. Clicking his pen he started to write down what he thought he needed to do.
The waitress quietly placed the side salad next to him as he wrote. He poked at a cherry tomato absently with his fork, finally spearing it and a small piece of lettuce.
He wrote slowly, deliberately. Get rid of all the pictures. Cancel cable (he had only gotten cable so she could watch her stupid shows). Take her car off his insurance (she had lost her job almost immediately after moving in with him, and couldn't afford car insurance, so he had graciously put her on his, telling her and himself it was only temporary - that was 11 months ago). He had to cancel the gas station credit card he had put her on (she didn't have income after she lost her job and she promised to pay back every cent). He had to take her off of his accounts at the bank.
That's when the penny dropped. He got up and ran out of the diner to his car and frantically grabbed his cellphone. He now had 17 voicemail messages.
He activated his bank's app and waited nervously as it came up, hurriedly punching in his User ID and Password with his fingers, then answering the security question, tapping hard on the glass screen as if that would speed up the process.
He stared at his phone in disbelief. His savings account balance was $5.01. His checking account balance was $20.00.
The waitress from the diner came out to where he had parked. She cleared her throat loudly to get his attention. "Sir, your lunch is ready - do you want me to put it in a to-go container for you?"
David looked up at her. "Uh, no, no...I'll be right in."
The waitress walked back into the diner as David pressed the voicemail icon. 16 messages were from Anne. The first few were apologetic, all of them ending in loud gasping sobs and pitiful crying. Then the messages became angry, obscenity-laced rants that attacked everything about David, from his looks to his taste in music to his dog.
As he walked back into the diner he listened to the last voicemail message.
The last message, the one that had been left when he had sat down in the diner, was from his bank, inquiring about the large withdrawals made from his savings and checking accounts by the co-owner of the account.
David sat down on the stool and stared at the plate in front of him. He was numb. He dug into the meatloaf and ate it without tasting it. He pushed the mashed potatoes around, hoping the butter pat would be able to melt as he mixed it in with the gravy.
He was still numb when the waitress came with the check. He fished out his wallet and left $12.00 for the $7.00 lunch, then made his way back to his car.
His savings were gone, stolen. Except they had been taken by someone he had given access to his accounts himself. Very hard to prove it was theft.
He started his car and drove back onto the highway, heading away from his home once again. His head was filling with vile thoughts, he needed to calm down.
As he drove he imagined scenario after scenario of tracking Anne down and beating her senseless, or much worse. He tried to remember the license plate number of the dark red truck that the old man had parked in the driveway, but he couldn't. He wanted to desperately find the old man and beat him senseless too.
He crossed into a neighboring state an hour after he had eaten lunch, and pulled off the highway to get gas again. As he filled the tank it occurred to him that he should call the credit card company and get her name taken off. He pulled out his cellphone and tapped in the phone number on the back of the card.
The call was quick and easy. The woman on the other end of the line told him her card was now invalid, and that a letter confirming this would be mailed to him in 3 to 5 business days. David felt a small measure of victory.
When he got back into his car he reached into the glove box and found his insurance paperwork. He pulled over to the side of the gas station and called the number for his agent.
That call was a little more involved, as the insurance agent wanted a signed letter stating why Anne was to be removed from the policy mailed to the company. It wasn't until David clearly explained the situation and threatened to cancel his policy completely did the insurance agent agree to take her off his policy without the signed letter.
The afternoon was too bright and alive for the way David was feeling. He needed rain, he needed a storm that would better reflect his turmoil.
As he drove through the small town he looked for a movie theater he could pass time in without having to think. He finally chanced upon a mall and parked in the lot.
The matinee had started twenty minutes before he got there, but he bought a ticket in spite of that. The film he watched was a dull comedy, but it did the job he wanted, distracting him from the events of the day. When the movie finished up he went back to the box office to buy a ticket for a second movie, but the cashier told him to go ahead and watch the film on the house, as he had missed so much of the first film.
When he left the theater the sun had long since disappeared beyond the horizon. The mall parking lot was emptying quickly. He made his way to his car and sat behind the wheel. He put his key in the ignition, turned the engine over and let the car idle for awhile.
Then he turned the engine off and picked up his cellphone. He accessed his bank app and started at his nearly empty accounts.
"How," He muttered angrily to himself for the first time that night, "could I have been so stupid?"
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