Word Gets Around... At Somerset Park
One of my favorite things I've written, definitely in the Top 3. The other two of that countdown are both significantly longer, so we'll just go with this one. Let me know what you think!!!
Word Gets Around... at Somerset Park
“I've been alive five years and even I know that's a bunch of crap.”
Melissa had, in fact, been alive well over five years, but it was in 2016 that she'd come out of her coma, and she wasn't particularly good at math.
“Well, that's what he says. And it's been seven, dear.”
“Albeit. I don't care. I don't believe him.”
Katelyn's husband had recently departed on an urgent business trip. It was strange, for a couple of reasons. One of them was that he had only been at his company for three months, and talk of such a trip had only begun a week prior to the trip. Another was that Mark was, for the time being (and consequent to the layoff) a lawn mower.
“Well, that's enough of that, then.”
In the other room, Katelyn's and Melissa's children were playing. Katelyn had two children, ages nine and seven, named Chris and Kyler, respectively. Melissa also had two children, ages fifteen and six, named Kyle and Audra, respectively. Kyle had depression.
“Mom, we're gonna go play outside,” said Kyler, perhaps picking up on some tension.
“Kyle, sweetie, could you go with them and watch the kids?”
“Ugh!” replied Kyle, who was substantially more interested in scrolling through Twitter and looking for some hate to feel. However, he obediently rose to his feet, and followed them out, if not just to get away from his mother's inane conversation.
The four of them padded on over to the sandy volleyball court down by the lakefront. Chris had brought a volleyball from the garage. Kyle sat apathetically against the net pole, returning to his important sociological research, while the other three made repeated attempts to hit the ball over the net the way the grown-ups did, ultimately resorting to just throwing the ball. At one point, Audra had simply punched it.
After a moment, Kyler walked over to Kyle – she thought he was cool, and spent every waking moment she could muster interacting with him. “Who are you texting?” she asked him.
“I'm not tweeting anybody. I'm just putting a Tweet on my profile. Well, an X, I guess. Or something.”
“What's an affair?” she asked, reading the screen.
Kyle realized that impressionable little minds might glean more from his angst-ridden ramblings than he'd really intended for them to glean, and closed his phone. “Don't worry about it. Let's play volleyball.” With that, he stood up, dusted the sand from his butt, and tried to teach the children how to lock their fists together and bump the ball over the net.
While this was going on, Tasha, 17, and Ryan, 12, walked over together from their home, which had a window facing the court. Kyle thought Tasha was, well, heh heh, well, you know, haha, and Tasha found Kyle to be an enjoyable person to be around. Ryan just liked volleyball. Ryan liked any sport ball. It was his favorite way to interact with other people. Excited, he ran ahead, and barged onto the scene to bop the ball over the net before it would otherwise have hit the sand.
Ryan's arrival, thought Kyle, meant a certain someone may be nearby. He turned, and there she was, and suddenly volleyball and social media both became dull and empty, and the August equivalent of a Christmas tree captivated his mind's eye.
“Hi, Ryan. Babysitting again?”
“Ha, yeah, you know it. Heh.”
They had ended up converging at this bench which faced the lake, but of course they didn't sit on it. Tasha stood by, leaning, while Kyle Captain Morgan'd himself onto the seat. He was natural, like that.
“School's coming back, soon, yeah? You maximizing your summer break?”
“Aw, dude, don't remind me! I'm so jealous of you.” Tasha had graduated last June, and Kyle wanted nothing more than to be going wherever she was going.
“Yeah, well, I mean, I'm going to school, too. In Ypsi.”
“Oh, right. Dang.” This was worse for Kyle. He would have preferred she stay back at home and taunt him all day with the fun things she was doing in their neighborhood, while he was stuck at school doing the same deadbeat assignments that she had already endured. In his defense, he didn't know anything about life beyond the public school system, except for what had been brought to his attention.
“Aww. Are you gonna miss me?”
A trap! He couldn't just say yes, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings, either.
Behind him, a different sort of conversation was occurring.
“What's an affair?” Kyler insisted.
“It's like a carnival,” Chris replied.
“No, it's when a mom is cheating on a dad,” corrected Ryan. “My mom did one last year.”
Kyler was confused. “Kyle says my dad is having an affair. But my dad's not a mom!”
“No. Kyle must be wrong,” answered Ryan, afraid to admit he didn't know what he was talking about.
“What's it called when a dad has an affair, then?” asked Audra.
“I don't know,” replied Ryan. “I guess you'd just say he's cheating.”
Now Chris had a question. “What's he cheating at? I don't think he cheats. He's always telling us the rules.”
“He's cheating on his wife,” Ryan confidently answered. “Your mom.”
“Like, when they were playing Scrabble?”
The ball went back and forth, but eventually, it stopped.
Later, Ryan went out with his dad on the boat. Since Ryan's mom left, Ryan's dad had been making sure to spend more one-on-one time with his son. It wasn't that he didn't care, before, but he'd been so focused on making money matters work that he wasn't thinking so much about personal stuff. When his wife left, he realized, his kids would need some additional emotional nurturing.
This had, at first, been very awkward. He tried to remember all the things Suzanne had done which had not been in his domain for the past several years. Household choring was a rather obvious one, sure, but Tasha was a growing woman, and one day there was a bit of a crisis situation which resulted in John standing in the women's health section of a grocery store at 11:37 p.m. on a worknight, asking his daughter over the phone which ones he should be buying while she stood crying in the shower.
A question had occurred to him in that moment, a question which had haunted him to this very day, but he didn't dare ask, for fear it would make him out to be stupid (and also, at the time, his daughter had heavier issues on hand). After all, it was probably a question everyone but him already knew the answer to, that being: Why was it called “menstruation,” and not... “womenstruation”? Well, it sounded weird in his head, anyway. Actually, now both of them sounded weird.
No such disasters had occurred with Ryan. In fact, today would prove to be his most awkward conversation with him, yet.
“Dad, you said Mom had an affair, right?”
The question had come seemingly out of nowhere. Two minutes ago they'd been discussing how waves worked. Before that, it was school supplies.
“That's correct,” John replied, feeling hesitant. He was always careful with his words around the matter of his ex-wife. Sure, he may have nothing but hurt and disappointment in his heart, for her; sure, this hurt and disappointment had maybe festered into something resembling an enraged fury for all she'd put him and their children through; sure, maybe that rage and fury manifested within him as a repeated desire to see her suffer in all her future attempts at romance, but none of that was adequate for him to dash his image as a supportive and wounded individual who had been given the short end of the stick by expressing such emotions. Or, rather, um, he just didn't want to, like, upset the kids, or something.
“So what's it called when a dad has an affair?”
“Well, I think that'd still be called an affair, son.” John only called Ryan “son” when he felt uncomfortable. “Why, uhh... why do you ask?”
“Kyler said her dad is having an affair while he's on his trip.”
John felt concerned. He'd known Mark and Katelyn since they moved in. Sure, maybe this could be the misunderstood banter of children, but it seemed a weird subject to be born from nothing. Surely, there must be something which caused this seed to be planted in Kyler's mind.
“Why does Kyler think that?”
“Kyle told her?” It seemed a strange conversation for a teenager to have with a child. Perhaps, an inappropriate one. John wondered if corrective measures needed to take place. True, John was not Kyle's father, not by any means, but he'd watched the kid grow since he was three, so he felt some sort of residual leadership.
“Yeah. I guess. I don't know, that's what she said.”
“Huh. Alright. Well, thanks for letting me know.” The topic died. The boat lifted and lowered with the waves. Light splashing resounded against the hull. The sun was beginning to set, and the breeze blew past their faces, like the gentle touch of a mother's fingers.
“Wait, do waves ever die?”
It had been a long day at work. Nate, 27, was a bit beyond his league, though he'd never admit it. The management gig at the paint store was paying for this gorgeous home on the lake, and with that he was certainly making his father proud, probably. He kicked his shoes off. He went straight to the basement from the foyer, ignoring the other two-thirds of his home, which rarely garnered his attention, except to foster his path from the basement dwelling to his bedroom, upstairs. The kitchen was spotless.
Downstairs, Nate opens a mini-fridge. In it is Budweiser and Ice Mountain. He slouches into his crackling leather couch, cracking open a can, and turns on his television, his legs extended out in front of him, feeling the cold air permeating his sweat-soaked Dickies-brand socks. His Xbox was still on from last night.
Before starting his game, an opportunity to shoot digital strangers in the head, he reached for his phone and opened his Jet's Pizza app. It had been the first pizza app he'd downloaded, and suddenly it was the only pizza he bothered to order. One less step, it seemed; by not having to type a different pizza brand's website into the browser, less work had to be done to get to the pizza.
After ordering, he threw his phone, aiming for last night's old pizza box. It missed, the phone instead landing on the rug. Phew.
His legs were sore. He was happy that his work for the day was done. Now all that was left was dinner, beer, digital guns, and eventually, maybe, sleep.
Except that then, his phone rang. The very phone which had just been thrown across the room. It would certainly require standing. And he might have just let it go, but it was his neighbor, John, calling. John had been very helpful when Nate was moving in. Not only did he offer with unloading the truck, he even helped with hooking up the TV he was now looking at. This, in a neighborhood which had otherwise been fairly silent toward him until about one-and-a-half years into his arrival. He'd never asked for anything in return, either, but Nate still felt indebted to him.
Sore legs stood up, and tired fingers held the phone. “Hey, what's up?”
“Nathan, hello! It's John.”
“I know it's Thursday and you've probably had a long day, but I've got a thing I kinda want to talk to someone about, and I don't really want to be a gossip, and you know I don't have my wife at home to talk to about these things...”
Nate could feel his blood pressure rising. Well, a feeling which he assumed was a rising blood pressure. In any event, stress.
“Well, alright, so, I know this is silly, but my kid tells me that Mark's having an affair, and like, look, I know kids just talk, and maybe someone misheard something, but, I don't know, like, I feel bad, if it's true. You know, 'cuz Suzanne, with her infidelity, and if the same thing was happening to Katelyn, well, I'd feel bad. But like, Mark? I don't know if I see Mark doing that.”
“I hear ya. What did Katelyn say?”
“Haven't you talked to Katelyn about this, yet?”
There was a pause. “Uh,.. n-, no.”
“Okay, yeah. That makes sense. I'll just go ask her. Clear things up.”
“Alright, cool. Anything else, Pommel?” That was John's surname, Pommel. John was a “Mr. Pommel is my Dad” kind of guy, so Nate just stuck to Pommel.
“No, I'm good. Thanks, Nathan.”
“No problem. Have a good one.” He hung up, satisfied he'd done his good deed for the day.
The pizza arrived shortly thereafter. Apparently, the pizza delivery girl had a double delivery for this neighborhood.
The next day, John walked by himself over to Mark and Katelyn's house, which at the moment, was just Katelyn's house, and some part of him felt unsure about that. It felt wrong. But, given the circumstances.. perhaps a fellow sufferer needed some assistance.
John knocked firmly, but gently; confidently, yet cautious. Two moments later, the door was answered.
“John! What brings you here? Mark is out, he's-”
“The business trip, yes. I just thought I'd stop by and check to see that you're doing okay.”
“Oh. Well, yes! Thank you, thank you for checking in on me. Yes, everything's been wonderful here, really. I do miss him, but, you know, since the layoff things have been tough, and I'm glad to have him working, again.” She wondered internally how John had known about the trip. Perhaps Mark had told him.
“Yes, of course. Absolutely. Well, I'm glad to hear things are going well. Do you need help with anything?”
“Um, no, I think I've got everything taken care of, here. But, thank you!”
“No problem, you have a good day Katelyn” and he was moving down the steps as he said this, perhaps even hurriedly, because the awkwardness of the situation was hitting him. Here he was, on a whim from something his kid had said another kid had said; really, it would seem that he was taking advantage of Mark's absence, trying to slip in for some fraternization. He really hoped his actions weren't to be interpreted as such, and it was the lingering that he felt would be the nail in the coffin. She'd said her piece, he was now to go, and that was that, yes.
Across the street, Edith and Frank, an elder couple, were witnessing the exchange over a late morning cup of coffee.
“It ain't right,” Edith said.
“What's that?” asked Frank.
“Mark's been out for but two days – no, three, so what – and John goes and tries to get in with Katelyn.”
“Is that so?” he said. He was, frankly, distracted. 41 Down was giving him a real run for his money.
“Well, why else would he be visiting? I haven't seen him with a woman since Suzanne left him. There's clearly no other reason to be going over there.”
It was really too late to be having this conversation, Frank thought, and by “too late,” he was not considering the time of the day. “Dear, don't you have some lunch plans with Sue and Cathy?”
“Yes, in about an hour or so.”
“I thought you said Cathy had that appointment, and so-”
“Oh, shit, you're right!” Before the sentence was over, Edith had risen from the table, picking up her coffee cup and dumping it out in the sink and rinsing it before power-walking to her shoes and stepping out. “Bye, Dear, I'll be back around three.”
“Bye, Sweets.” Frank sipped his coffee. He decided 41 Down would have to wait. He rose, carefully pushing the chair out with his legs, stabilizing himself with the table's assistance. He walked to the sink, dumped and rinsed his cup, took a stop at the bathroom, picked up the book he'd been reading lately, and went and sat on the bench near the volleyball court, ignoring a dirty footprint.
“That's the problem with those young ones, you gotta watch out for them.”
“Oh, goodness, did I tell you what Thomas told me last night?” Thomas was Cathy's son. He was 36. He felt very comfortable in his mother's basement.
“What's that?” replied Sue.
“So, he ordered another pizza, right, and he tells me, he says – apparently, Mark is having an affair.”
“Why did you mention pizza?” asked Edith. “Was it written in the box?”
“No, he says the girl told him she had another customer to deliver to in the neighborhood, and she said, 'that's crazy that one guy is cheating on his wife.' So I guess Tommy asked her what she meant, she said 'the guy on the business trip, I guess.'”
“That would be Mark!” replied Sue.
“I saw John knocking on Katelyn's door this morning.” Edith felt ecstatic to get to share this timely little nugget. She knew something was juicy.
“Aww, the poor thing,” replied Sue.
“The poor thing! What do you mean?” Edith had a bone against John.
“Well, yes, you know Suzanne cheated on him, right?”
“Suzanne tried for months to get John to pay her any mind, and all he could think about was his work!”
Cathy stepped in: “That's true, I remember her saying that, but she still acted unfaithfully toward her husband. She was still married when she first started seeing Brian.”
“I don't care,” Edith was indignant, “I mean, I do. I do.”
“Okay, ladies, who had the omelette?”
It was no coincidence that Frank had chosen this particular spot. Why, he could have read from the comforts of his armchair, but, no.
“Ah, John! What a pleasant surprise!”
“Ha, well, I mean, I do live right there.”
“Yes, I know. It's just nice to see you.” Frank closed his book. He had never even taken the bookmark out.
“Well, thank you. May I?” John gestured to the seat beside Frank.
“Thank you.” He sat, and released an exhale the likes of which would communicate to a perfect stranger that one was experiencing distress.
“Something the matter, John?”
“Yeah, I mean, I don't really want to, like, burden you with it.”
“Nonsense. I could use a burden. What's going on?”
“Well, okay, so, the other day, I was out on the boat with Ryan, right? And he and I, we're talking about waves, and then he just asks me this question about affairs. I figure he's thinking about his mother, right, but he tells me – and see, this seems just so silly when I say it out loud – he tells me that Kyler said Kyle said that Mark is having an affair.”
“Kyle is Melissa's son, right?”
“Well, I guess Melissa was over at Katelyn's. The kids were playing together at the court when Tasha and Ryan went out.”
“Well, yeah, so. Anyway. I don't know if it's true, at all. But, I was worried for her. So, I went and asked. 'Cuz, you know, Suzanne.”
Frank nodded, giving a little “mm” sound. Contrary to his wife, Frank sided with John.
“So, um.. what do you suppose I should do?”
Frank stared out at the lake, watching the waves crash against the sea wall, their relaxing rhythmic sound cascading through, vibrating their bones like a purring cat.
“John, I don't believe Mark's having an affair.”
“No. Mark loves his wife. Mark loves his kids. Everything he's done since they've moved in, it's all been for them. He used to be a marketing consultant. Now he's mowing lawns. He's tossed his pride in the can in favor of helping to provide for his family.”
“But then, why would he need a business trip for lawn care?”
“John, if he was going to lie, don't you think he'd come up with a better lie?”
This struck John. He felt silly, perhaps even a bit dumb. But, most of all, he felt relieved. He really didn't want Mark to be that kind of guy.
“I suppose you're right, Frank. Thank you.” He exhaled, again, but this one was peppered with relief.
“Not a problem, Johnny. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really need to take a crap.”
John laughed, “Of course, Frank. And again, thank you.”
“Nooot a problem.” He stood up, holding the bench for support.
It was 2:30 when Edith arrived home. She had a minute to spare, so she'd decided to pay Katelyn a visit. This was planned; she'd even brought a slice of cheesecake from the restaurant.
On the drive home, she'd thought about what her friends had said at the diner. Perhaps she had been too harsh on John. And, perhaps, he did not have ulterior motivations in his visit to Katelyn's house. Perhaps.
“Hello, Katelyn! I've brought you a nice slice of cheesecake.” It was in a styrofoam box.
“Oh, thank you! Do come in.”
Edith shuffled in, removing her slip-on shoes at the door. “Katelyn, I do love what you've done with this place.”
“Yeah? Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“This kitchen color is lovely.”
“Thank you. Mark helped me pick it out.”
“And the tiling, too. Actually, we did the tiling, together. That's why it's kinda janky in this one part. We were still learning how to do it.”
“Well, that's- a sweet moment. I'm sure that must make this all hurt so much more.”
“Hmm? Oh, the trip? Yes, I mean, I certainly do miss him.”
“Even though he-...” Edith wasn't sure what the congenial way to handle this conversation was, and drifted off into a tailing silence.
“Is mowing lawns? I don't see why that would have any-”
“Even though he's sleeping with another woman!” Edith's voice was now filled with panicked indignation.
“I-... I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“Ah... I see. Well, I'm sorry you have to find out like this. I for one think that it's-”
“I'm sorry, Edith, but I think I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Ah, yes, of course. It would be difficult to-”
“Would you like your cheesecake?”
“Ah, no, that's for you, dear.”
“Alright, well, thank you.” Already, Katelyn could see its place in the trash.
Edith slipped her feet back into her shoes. “Okay, well, you have a nice rest of your evening, sweetie.”
“Yes, thank you. You, too.”
Edith returned home, a victor. Proud, shoulders squared. She felt a weight had been taken from her. She was correct, in that she had entered Katelyn's home holding a cheesecake, and was now without said cheesecake.
“She didn't know! I thought she knew. It's a shame she didn't know, already, but someone had to tell her.”
It was then that Frank figured out the word for 41 Down: “narcissism.”
One week later, Mark returned home. His wife greeted him with open arms, and planted an affectionate kiss right to his lips. He had texted her when he was at the gas station on the way home from the airport, and she had dinner already prepared, macaroni and cheese with dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets. His children got up from the dinner table and ran up behind her, waiting for their turn to hug Daddy, and welcome him home.
“Mark, you would not believe the week I've had.”
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