Some Things Can't Be Undone

Some Things Can't Be Undone          

Sam questioned the wisdom of this trip. He’d be home by nightfall if all went according to plan and Susan, his kids, even Stewart, his boss would be oblivious. This was just a day trip, but it would set in motion things that couldn’t be undone and Sam knew it. Four days had passed since that fateful evening when he’d met the man and been given this opportunity. Four long days spent agonizing; facing the fears that come along when a fantasy suddenly becomes a real possibility. In the end, this was really a choice between the mind-numbing, repetitive life he had fallen into and the one he’d always expected to have. The opportunity may have only been around for four days but the seeds of this decision had been growing roots for fifteen years.          

Sam hit the corner of Fifth and Park and pulled his Lexus into the B.P. station. It was a cool morning by September standards with a bright sun that fooled you into thinking you could dress light and a brisk wind that whipped through your clothes just enough to steal the body's warmth. He swiped his credit card at the pump. A small, type-written sign was taped next to the screen. This station is locally owned by a member of your community. Our children attend the same schools as yours. Thank you for your continued loyalty, it read. He thought of the poor soul who probably invested his life savings and was wading in a cesspool of debt to start a business only to be screwed by idiots more interested in getting rich than paying attention to keeping the oil in the pipe. Not unlike himself, he thought. Pretty much everyone invested heavily in something and got screwed in the end. For him things were set for a change, though. Five hundred miles of driving, one painless hand off in a Starbucks, and no looking back. Sam mentally wished the BP guy luck as he pulled back onto the road. Once again, he questioned the wisdom of this trip and once again he wrestled his insecurity back into its cage.

Heading south on Interstate 75, Sam thought back to that evening at Charlie's. He'd stopped in after work, a habit established six months earlier. It wasn't an every night occurrence. Once a week had become twice and maybe three times if there was a particularly bad day at the office. He never stayed long. Two vodka tonics to take the edge off and then home he'd drive to Susan, the kids, the soccer practice, the disorganized house, the homework, and so on. He was on his second vodka tonic when he'd noticed the guy with the Packers tee shirt glancing every so often in his direction.

"What the hell's going on with Roethlisberger?" The man had said.

"Pardon?"

"Roethlisberger,” he pointed to the TV above the bar. "You'd think these damn kids could at least pretend to behave themselves a little better. For seventy million bucks, I know I could."

The small talk had continued for several minutes with the man, who introduced himself as Mike, doing most of the talking while Sam nodded agreeably. Sam had finished his drink and was up to go, almost out the door really, when Mike had called out to him.

"Sam, hold on a minute." The bar was filling up. It was noisier now, and smokier, and the man had to raise his voice to be heard over the buzz. "Give me five more minutes. I've got something you might be interested in. Don't worry," he smiled. "I'm not gay or anything. It's nothing like that."

Returning from his daydream, Sam noticed the sign indicating a rest area five miles ahead. He checked his watch. Just in time, he thought, to make the initial rendezvous with Mike. As he entered the parking area, he spotted him standing by the concessions as planned. Mike had lost the Packers tee shirt and was now wearing brown kakis and a green polo. A cigarette was pinched between his fingers and to Sam, he looked much less friendly than he remembered. A dog barked incessantly from one of the parked cars and across the lawn, he could see two children releasing energy with a game of tag. The air was downright cold now and his nerves felt like they were wrapped too tightly around his heart, squeezing.

Mike greeted him friendly enough, extending his hand to shake.

“Hello, Sam,” he said.

“Hi Mike.”

“Here’s the packet. All you have to do is deliver this like we discussed. You do this and the rest of your payment will be made shortly. And, if all goes as planned, we’ll do this a few more times and you’ll be on easy street. Just like I promised. Sound good?”

“Mike, I’m starting to not be too sure about this,” Sam said. “Maybe we just call it off.”

“It’s too late for that, Sam,” was the reply. “You already got half the money.”

“I could pay it back, Mike. I wouldn’t take your money like that if I didn't do my end of the deal.”

“Look Sam. Things are happening here. Stopping now would cost me much more than your advance. You made a commitment and I expect you to keep it. You’re in. If things don’t work out, this will be bad for you. Your wife might find out. Your employer even. Who knows what else. All you have to do is deliver the package, Sam.”

“I got it. No problem, Mike.” Sam took the package from his hand and turned to go.

“Don’t forget why you took this deal in the first place, Sam,” Mike called out to him as he walked away. “Those reasons are still there. You deserve this. Nothing’s changed, my friend.” Sam nodded but didn’t look back. He was right about that. Nothing had changed.

Back on the road, Sam checked the speedometer. “Drive seventy miles an hour.” That was another thing Mike had told him. “That's not too fast and not too slow. Do not call attention to yourself,” he’d said. Sam didn't think what he was doing was illegal, or immoral for that matter. If he had thought that, he probably would have declined the offer right there in the bar. Maybe it was slightly dishonest. Maybe. Just passing along some information, Mike had said, a kind of service.

He had less than two hours to go. His favorite station no longer reached him and he’d turned the radio off miles back. In the silence, his mind wandered. It took him back twelve years to the early days of his marriage to Susan. Those were happier days when he thought he was living on the front end of a bright future. She used to smile at him back then. Sam remembered the long, fast-paced bike rides they used to take on brisk fall days just like this one. He remembered the giddy feeling he used to get when they returned, sweaty and spent from the exercise but anxious for the equally energizing bedroom encounter that always followed. Funny how two people could cruise along so well and then wake up a few years later to discover how far off course they had drifted.

He couldn’t really remember when it all went so wrong. Or why. Life had become more complicated to be sure. Plenty of hurtful things were said and there was the one time his anger had got the better of him and he had taken the swing at her. He instantly regretted that and still did. He knew he had changed over the years. It was like an animal captured and domesticated, hostile and fighting to re-establish control but slowly losing the battle and giving in. It wasn’t just him though, Sam thought. Susan had changed to. She’d become more distant. Harsher. So much quicker to judgment and anger. Lately, she seemed to ignore him altogether.

As the mile markers zipped by, he thought also about Jessie and Sam Jr. At ten, Jessie’s personality was really beginning to take shape. He was proud of the young lady he could see emerging in small, subtle ways out of the little girl he knew so well. Sam Jr. was still one hundred percent little boy. Sam smiled when he thought of the eight year old, studying the bugs he’d caught in the yard and wondering why they were all dead at the bottom of the jar after he’d left them in the sun for three days. He loved them dearly. They were, in fact, the main reason his decision to accept Mike’s offer had been so difficult. Deep down, Sam knew the risks were higher than he wanted to admit. Even though he’d convinced himself this would work out fine he was struck by a cold fear of what his kids would think if something went wrong. What they would do.

It was starting to sprinkle and the low, slick roar of a passing semi’s tires against the freshly wet pavement brought his attention back to the road. The billboard advertisements for the Cracker Barrels, the McDonalds, and the myriad of hotels and gas stations whisked by, requesting weary travelers to take the next exit and enjoy their hospitality. There was the Sam’s Fireworks, biggest in Kentucky just twelve miles ahead. Buy two get ten free. And, if colorful explosions weren’t your thing, just twenty-seven miles later you could rest and take advantage of the additional services at the Lion’s Den Show Club.

Mike, sat in his Mustang in the parking lot and dialed his cell phone.

“Is everything in place?” He asked.

“Just as planned,” was the reply that came from the other end of the line. He checked his watch.

“Your target should be arriving within the hour. Call me once he's made it into the shop."

“That’s the plan,” he heard, and disconnected the line.

Sam reached the outskirts of Savannah and fished out the directions Mike had written for him. He was looking for exit sixteen and then a one mile leg to the Starbucks. He found the exit and reached the strip mall without any problems. The coffee shop was a standalone building in the middle of the mall's large parking lot. Sam slowed the car but intentionally went past the entrance. He needed to get a look at the scene and buy himself a few more minutes. His anxiety was quickly becoming paralyzing fear. He turned around and made his way back, this time pulling into the lot. There were very few cars at this hour and the store looked fairly deserted.

Sam turned off the engine and sat with his hands gripping the steering wheel tight enough to whiten his knuckles. His forehead pressed against the top of the wheel, thinking. His eyes were closed. He was unaware of the two men sitting in another car six spaces away that were watching him closely.

“This is going to be a piece of cake,” said the man in the passenger’s seat. He was twig-like and skinny with a line of black, Chinese lettering tattooed down the length of his arm.

“That’s right, Jack. A piece of cake,” replied his partner. “But this is big bucks for us so don’t screw it up. Remember, it’s got to look like a robbery. Shoot the place up a bit, scream and holler, grab some money from the register, and then shoot the dude. But only that dude. No one else. Got it?”

“Like I said,” the twig man replied, “Piece of cake.”

Sam stepped out of the Lexus and began to walk towards the door. He walked slowly. “What the hell am I doing?” He thought to himself. The story-book future he’d invented was deteriorating, no, more like shattering in his mind as he made his way across the parking lot. He had no idea who these people really were. Visions of being led away from his house in hand cuffs with Jessie and Sam crying from the living room haunted him. He could see the bitter disappointment in Susan’s eyes as clearly as if she were standing right in front of him. “I’m going to risk all that for some fucked up fantasy of being rich and free and living the good life?” He wondered. But he felt as if he had a gun at his back and was being forced to go on. Mike's warning still rang in his ears.

He made his way into the coffee shop. His instructions were to order a coffee, take a seat, and wait to be approached. He took his place in line and then, in that moment, knew that he had to turn around. He had to get out of that place, get home to his family. To hell with Mike and his warning and whatever the consequences, he’d have to face them. He made a bee-line for the door and then for his car. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a seedy looking man stepping out of a car and then quickly getting back in. Sam reached his car, hit the ignition, shifted to drive and then quickly left the lot. He was on the access road and back on the interstate in a matter of minutes.

“What the hell just happened?” The skinny man said to his partner. “Should we go after him?”

“How should I know? I’m calling. Shut up for a second.” He dialed the number he'd been given. The phone answered on the first ring and he didn’t wait for a greeting. “Show’s over, man," he said. "It didn’t work."

“What do you mean it didn’t work?”

“The dude left. He wasn’t in there for more than two minutes, then he came back out, got in his car, and left. Simple as that, Jack. What do you want us to do?” Mike paused, thinking, but quickly.

“Forget about it then," he said. "The plan’s dead. Forget you were there, forget this phone number. You keep your advance. That’s it. Deals over. Got it?”

“It's your dime, dude.” The phone clicked dead.

Mike sat still in the Mustang’s driver seat a moment longer considering the situation. Then he made one more call.

“Hello,” came the tentative answer from the other end of the line. He thought about how to deliver the message.

“It didn’t work today,” he said. “I’m sorry. We’re going to have to regroup and think of another plan. Sometimes things just go wrong. I’ll be in touch but it won’t be for a while. We’ve got to cool it for a while. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’ll be in touch. Until then, you don’t speak about this. Don’t even think about it. That’s the best way. Cool?” And then he hung up, not waiting for an answer.

On the other end of the line, Susan slowly put the phone’s receiver back in its cradle. Naked, and now feeling very exposed, she staggered back to the bed she'd come from.

Stewart put a hand under her chin, lovingly raising her eyes to meet his.

“He’s still around, isn’t he,” he said, more a statement then a question. This had been his idea. It started as a joke, really. It wasn't a joke anymore. Susan answered him with silence but her eyes, wet and filled with fear, confusion, and regret told him what he needed to know.

The phone rang again. Neither moved to answer it. After five rings, the answering machine picked up and Jessie's sweet, recorded voice filled the room.

“Sorry, we can’t take your call right now. Please leave a message and we’ll call you back.”

Sam's voice came next.

“Susan? --- Susan? --- Hey, it’s me. Listen. I have a lot to tell you when I get home tonight. There's some things I have to admit, some……. confessions. Anyway. What’s important is, I just want you to know that I love you very much. Susan, I think things are going to be ok. Better now. Kiss the kids for me, ok? I’ll see you soon.”

Sam hung up the phone. Things really were about to change, he thought. Just maybe, they'd be ok after all.