Seen Seams

Our eyes don’t narrow.

They can’t. Our eyebrows can lower, lower eyelids can tense, pulling themselves up, but our eyes can’t narrow. Still, in a world where what really is falls secondary to what things seem to be, I can hardly be blamed for noting to myself that Sam’s eyes seemed to have narrowed as I told him that he “wasn’t it.”

“What do you mean I’m not it?”

“That is, in fact, what I said, so I assume it is what I meant.” His incredulous stare didn’t seem to be the lead-in for any statements, so I continued. “Although if you want me to specify, I guess you are it.” His expression melted for an instant, eyebrows lifting. “One of many its, in fact.” The eyebrows crashed down again. “So little separates you from most of the other three dozen people in this room that it’s negligible.” I’m sure he had something to say but, at this point, social courtesy wasn’t high on my list of priorities.

***

My knuckles were still white from clutching the steering wheel through the drive home as I fumbled with the keys to my apartment. Michael could hardly have been less subtle about my removal from the program. Slamming my door shut as soon as I cleared its arc, my dropped keys clattered past their usual resting place on the morning’s mail down off of the stool I used as a table onto the floor. Shoes still on, I made my way to my bathroom for a possibly thirst quenching bath.

As it filled the tiny bathroom faster than the scalding water filled the tub, I watched the steam drift calmly around my bright-red right hand, so engorged from its brief and distracting dip into the faucet’s stream. I sat in the only comfortable spot; on the toilet, with the cover down, staring at my outstretched palm, focusing on the sting of the burn as it masked my anger over being kicked out. Why was I kicked out? Michael did it in the evening, when nobody else was around as I’d been held late, told me to leave, asked for my gun back and...

I focused, again, on my hand; this time noticing the first evidence of the steam’s condescension in my palm, a single drop of water in its very center. I absentmindedly flexed my palm, undulating my fingers as I replayed the conversation with Michael.

I found my hand in a fist.

***

Trunk of the car filled with groceries, I pulled into my driveway. Inexplicably, Sam was standing over the row of garbage pails, still puzzling over them as I got out. He held a small black bag, the sort liquor stores use, in one hand, mostly obscured by his body. “Sam?” I called.

“Hey, could you tell me which of these is non-recycling?”

“What are you doing here?” I slammed my door shut, using far more force than was necessary.

“See that woman over there? The one gardening?” He pointed at my next door neighbor, emphasizing the last word so as to grab her attention. “Well, I was going to ask her, but then I thought it’d be inappropriate to see if she knows where to throw this bag of condoms. So, could you tell me?” Gears shifted in my head as I already made the connection.

“You dirty little…” My arm sliced through where Sam’s head had been a moment ago. He had the advantage the first time; he’d seen me charge at him. My second swing missed his head again, this time diverted by a nudge of his palm. The momentum carried me forward, leaving my side exposed. But Sam didn’t hit me, he just backed away. I was too angry to bother with a fist fight, pulling my gun from within my suit jacket.

“I’d think twice about that. Little Miss Rake over there is watching.” She wasn’t little, was unmistakably past the age to be a miss and wasn’t holding a rake, but she certainly was watching. “Why don’t we go inside?”

***

“Sit there, Sam.” I sat where he pointed, seeing little issue with where he and I wound up, on opposite ends of their dinner table, with his wife in middle, just off to the side, forming a nice little romantic triangle. “How long has this been going on?”

“What unit of measurement do you want?”

“Time. What else?”

“Oh. I was hoping you’d pick abortions, maybe hundred pack condom boxes, there are other metrics, if you’d like.” I didn’t want him to respond to that. “But if you insist, which you will…”

“Which I do.” He almost growled.

“Since we met. Remember that initiation party, when my group was first accepted into the program? That nice little black tie event? Your wife was wearing that nice little black dress? You really shouldn’t have run off on business mid-way through. That was a bad call on your part.”

Realizing that he was at least partially to blame, his voice took a turn for the soft. “Margaret?” Her gaze remained fixed, anchored to the fold in the table cloth in front of her. “Margaret!” came the follow-up, eschewing all softness. Margaret’s head fell further, landing in her opened palms, propped upright on her elbows.

“You never wondered? She must’ve changed her behavior at least a bit. That’s your job, Michael, to figure out what people are doing, what they’re thinking.” I didn’t care if her behavior had actually changed or not. All I needed was for him to doubt her, and, as a result, himself. “And you couldn’t even catch a two year long affair, between one of your students and your wife.”

Margaret managed to squeak through her sobs. “Michael, I, I.”

“Please, Margaret.” I would’ve preferred she not talk. “Michael here needs to process. Why don’t we be quiet for a moment?” Personally, I didn’t have the slightest intention to remain silent.

“I’m sorry, I…”

“Margaret?” A hint of edge in my voice has such an effect on a distraught woman. The resulting silence was, if not comforting, at least relieving.

***

I sat silently, hunched over and fondling the barrel of my gun under the table. The neighbor had seen me pull it out; that was a mistake. She might’ve even called the cops. Either way, I couldn’t risk even threatening with it. Sam had taken control of the situation. In my own home. With my own wife. That was just unnecessarily insulting.

“Processed it all yet?” Sam taunted. He sat across from me, leaning back in his chair, his eyes leaving mine only to dart to my wife, who, sitting to my right, was now rendered silent. He was almost comfortable, as comfortable as one could get in these wooden chairs my wife had picked out. His face wasn’t tense at all, like mine looked. The corners of his lips were upturned, his eyes joining in on the smile. He playfully cocked his head from side to side. His expression was meaningless, constructed to give nothing away.

“Why my wife?”

“Didn’t we already cover this? It was that little black number. Simply ravishing. I thought it’d be appropriate that she be ravished for, oh let’s say poetic symmetry.” I returned to my  silence. There must’ve been more.

“But why my wife, of all the people there? You knew she was my wife, and I’d be your instructor.”

“Well, if you’d like to dig deep, which I assure you your wife very much prefers, I didn’t necessarily know she was your wife, it was only readily visible that she was with you. Could’ve been your girlfriend. Or a hired date. Appearances must be kept up, right? But let’s assume I did know she was your wife, why wouldn’t I? Isn’t that just another layer of thrill? The wife of my future boss, I’d always have something over him, seems like a good bonus to me.” He was grinning by this point.

“Is that why you revealed it now? To get back at me for throwing you out of the program? Well congratulations, you’ve just made sure that you won’t be hired by anybody else either, which was still a possibility.” His smile flickered. “You’ve just ended yourself, and your career. Getting kicked out of the best of the best isn’t the end of the world, but this will be.” I had the upper hand now. “Think spending the last seven years training is going to help you flip that perfect burger?”

***

I didn’t have much time left to flip the tables back in my favor. “No, we didn’t so much as touch upon that precious art. We were taught that photographic evidence is rather useful though, dear teacher.” The color drained from Michael’s face. He knew where this was going. Explicitly describing it would only help me at this point. “Let’s not forget that you’re my instructor here. Or were, at least. And I’m your failed student. How embarrassing would it be for the rest of your department to find out that you missed an affair between your student, one of your worst students, if your analysis is any indication, and your wife? Very embarrassing, I’d bet. I’d go so far as to bet that it’d hurt you more than revealing my insubordination would hurt me. Furthermore, since your recent judgment has ruined my plans of advancement, I have little to lose. You, on the other hand, aside from losing whatever I’ve left of your dignity, will be seen as a failure. You have further to fall.” We heard sirens in the distance; luck was on my side, I didn’t think I’d be able to control the situation any longer.

 “So what now?” Michael knew he couldn’t justify flashing his gun without a good reason for it. Any convincing reason would require my corroboration. Unless, of course, he explained the real situation. I knew he wouldn’t dare.

“Now, you reinstate me. Maybe throw an honor in there, a letter of your most heartfelt recommendations. And we tell the police that everything your neighbor saw was just a training exercise. That’s certainly plausible. Have Margaret go upstairs and get herself together. Maybe pour us a couple of drinks?”

***

I phoned in Sam’s renewed status in the program, citing a previously undiscovered talent for subterfuge. We sat in the living room, Margaret and I on the sofa, Sam in the chair opposite the small coffee table. “If you ever tell anyone, or if I see you here again, you are done for.”

“Tell anyone what?”

“What happened between you and my wife.”

“Nothing happened between me and your wife.”

If confusion were to be a universal human emotion, my face would’ve been the prototype. As it were, my mouth gaped open, my eyes darted back and forth, somehow remaining focused on Sam’s eyes as the rest of my body fell limp into the sofa’s embrace.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, Michael, please forgive me. He told me he had evidence of you accepting a bribe, showed me photos of you with absurd amounts of cash. He said he’d destroy the photos if I did what he said. Just to be quiet for fifteen minutes while he spoke to you, I didn’t know what he had planned, I swear, I’m so sorry.”

“I never accepted any bribes, Marge, never.” I never took money. Making it, on the other hand, wasn’t unheard of. Is that where he got the photos from? If not, he could’ve forged them. Either way, what the photos actually were is irrelevant as long as they served their purpose.

How careful was he? “What about my neighbor?”

“I gave her a couple hundred dollars. Nothing else. Told her to call the police as soon as she either saw a legitimate reason to scurry back into her house or when we walked through your door. She did what she was told.” He was beaming, enjoying the explanation.

“That was sloppy. Had you drawn her out innocently, she would’ve been a better witness. Still, there are a few things you don’t know. For one, you weren’t the only one fired. More importantly, you weren’t fired, you were being tested. Lastly, and most relevantly, welcome to stage two.”