The Tesla Gate (2 page)

CHAPTER 2

Absent Birthday

“Action expresses priorities.”

—Mahatma Gandhi

That afternoon I sat outside Seth's school waiting for class to dismiss. My mind was preoccupied with a project I was working on at the office, but I also couldn't help but dwell on the nightmare. The high-pitched squeal of tires broke me out of my trance and sent my heart into my throat. As disturbing as it was, it was nothing new.

I wasn't looking in the direction of the commotion but I knew what it was; I knew it without a doubt. My son had recklessly bolted across the street without any regard to oncoming traffic. I have talked to him about this on countless occasions and he is pretty good about observing safety rules, except when he gets excited. Excitement seems to drain every bit of common sense from his otherwise intelligent brain.

I turned quickly in the direction of the noise to see him approaching the car in a sprint, completely oblivious to his surroundings. He grinned from ear to ear with eager excitement while the drivers of the two cars looked on with what was probably extremely subdued irritation. I waved, embarrassed, and gave silent thanks for their quick reflexes.

Everyone drives cautiously around St. James School because it is a posted school zone, and let's face it: caution is not a word that is common to most primary school kids' vocabulary. Seth hit the door like a bird hitting a window and then gleefully pulled open the door to my SUV. I was just about to scold him when my phone began to ring.

“Thomas Pendleton, how goes it?” asked the voice on the other end of the line. It was my boss, Don Lewis. I immediately knew it was either very good or very bad news because he rarely used my last name and he usually calls me Tommy.

“Daddy, Daddy guess what!” he blurted. I held up my finger
to silence him as I answered the call. I barely noticed as his bottom lip puckered and he dejectedly dropped his
Star Wars
backpack in the floorboard.

“Fine,” I replied, cutting my eyes at Seth as he began to rummage through his backpack, “what's up?”

“I'll make this quick because time is of the essence,” Don said with excitement in his voice. “We got the Memphis account!”

Don and I work for PortaPad Manufactured Homes, which is the country's largest manufacturer of mobile homes. It also is based in my hometown of Conway, Arkansas. We had been negotiating with a manufactured home retailer in Memphis for a year—a retailer which happens to manage almost 40 dealerships in Tennessee and Mississippi.

“That's great!” I exclaimed, “So when do we…”

Don cut me off before I finished my question. “We close the deal next week, but I need you in the office tonight so we can start getting everything together. We need to make sure that our i's are dotted and our t's are crossed.”

“I'll be there!” I said and hung up the phone.

In my excitement I had almost forgotten that Seth was in the vehicle. Ann usually picked him up from school, but she had a doctor's appointment today. I had been excited about picking him up and spending some quality time together but, like on most occasions, that was not going to happen today because work always seemed to intrude. I had no sooner hung up the phone when he started in with his barrage of reporting on the day's events.

“Hey Daddy, guess what we watched today?” Before I could reply, he answered his own question. “We watched the NASA channel in science class today and guess what?”

Again he was quicker on the draw than I in answering the question. “The scientists say there is a magnetic storm heading toward Urf, and it will be here in a couple of weeks!” Seth is an intelligent six-year-old but he does have a slight speech impediment. It was cute when he was younger, and Ann and I always thought he would grow out of it, but we have recently come to recognize that he might need speech therapy. I was experienced enough with his dialect to recognize that there was a magnetic storm heading toward Earth.

“That's interesting,” I said.

I had heard a snippet on the radio earlier but I hadn't really paid attention. Meteor showers, eclipses, visible planets and comets, it seems like we have some new phenomenon to observe on a weekly basis. So, I didn't believe this one would be any different, maybe some colorful lights in the sky for a night or two and even then it would probably only be visible in Nova Scotia, Oslo, Norway, or Timbuktu. Conway, Arkansas, never has anything exciting like that happen.

“We may not be able to see it but it might interfere with TV or rabio signals,” he said as he pointed at the radio dial.

I barely even heard him because I noticed another kid about Seth's age dart into the street just as I was pulling away from the curb. I was reminded of Seth's earlier similar lack of caution.

“Seth, how many times have I talked to you about running into the street? I am going to have to ground you tonight to make sure you get the point. Do you understand?”

He frowned and nodded his head gloomily. After a few moments of silence, Seth replied so silently I could barely understand him.

“Okay, Daddy … could we stop at the blue store so I can get Momma a present?”

The blue store is how he referred to Walmart, one of his favorite places in the world outside of Chuck E. Cheese. He called it that because of its blue logo and saying the word Walmart played hell on his speech impediment.

I felt a knot form in my stomach and it started to work its way up my throat. Today is Ann's birthday and we were supposed to have a family dinner tonight at her favorite restaurant. I had just committed myself to go into work. I don't think I have been available for a birthday celebration in at least three years. The last birthday party I remember, including my own, was Seth's third birthday. That stands out so clearly because I was late due to a meeting at work and had to pick up the cake. My tardiness distracted me enough that I did not inspect the cake at the bakery when I picked it up. It wasn't discovered until the box was opened in the middle of the table surrounded by three-year-olds and moms that I had gotten the wrong cake. Seth frowned as I dumbly read the birthday greeting aloud: “Happy 50th Birthday, Ralph.”

“I-I don't have time, buddy,” I said. “I have to go to work, something really big tonight, your mother will understand.”

I felt like a jerk but I justified it by believing that Ann would understand. She always did … or at least I thought she did. I believed she would appreciate the fact that my absence tonight would give her delayed gratification of her birthday wishes. The bonus I would be getting would enable us to take the dream vacation we have talked about for years but never acted on, or perhaps even enable us to move to the new affluent area of Conway known as Jefferson Place. Yes, it was for the good of the family, I rationalized. It was worth a few sacrifices. In actuality, I don't believe Ann and Seth shared my justification.

Seth frowned and fumbled with the strap of his backpack. I saw a tear start to bead in the corner of his eye but I was distracted by another phone call from my boss. We were three-quarters of the way home when my call ended. Seth had dried his tears but still looked thoroughly disappointed. He took me completely off guard by his next question.

“Daddy, how do you commit suibside?”

I gaped at him in disbelief. My shock caused me to veer into the next lane, almost side swiping a Volkswagen Beetle.

“Suicide … where did you hear that word, son?” I stammered.

“J.C. Stensland died today; Father Wilson met with us in chapel to talk about it.”

J.C. Stensland was a teen heartthrob pop star. Seth listened to Radio Disney where they usually played a lot of his music but I never thought that Seth was a fan. He usually only got excited about the show tunes from his favorite Disney movies. It seems I had heard something on the radio earlier about the music star committing suicide. The details were sketchy but it was believed that he shot himself in the head.

“What did Father Wilson say?” I asked, my jaw clenching tight. I understood the Catholic position on suicide but I hoped that the priest had not gotten too graphic with his discussion.

I still needed to have a private meeting with Father Wilson about his, in my opinion, explicit lesson about abortion. I share the same views on the subject matter as the good Father and the Church, but we have a different point of view sometimes on age appropriate discussions.

“He reminded us that suibside is a sin and anyone who does it is going to Hell. Is J.C. in Hell, Daddy?”

My jaw clenched again and my ulcer, which had not given me a problem in months, decided to rear its ugly head. It sounded as if the line had once again been crossed, but when was I going to have time to meet with the Father? My calendar is booked solid for at least a month. It is now mid-April and school will be out for summer in a couple of weeks.

“I don't know, Seth. Only God can determine that.”

“Doesn't Father Wilson talk to God?” Seth asked with a frown.

I decided it was best to change the subject. “Hey, what did Mr. Lax think about your airplane project?” I asked with exaggerated enthusiasm. Seth had spent two weeks working on a project that displayed World War II airplanes.

Seth beamed with pride. “A-plus,” he said with two thumbs up.

“Good job, buddy!” I reached over to ruffle his hair. His chest puffed out as he beamed from ear to ear.

“I told him we were going to see them for real at the Air and Space Moozem in Washaton as soon as school is done!” he boasted.

I had promised Seth to take him to the Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C., as soon as school is out. However, I hadn't anticipated the big deal closing with the company in Memphis. I had a habit of breaking promises to him like that, but he had to understand that my hard work pays for his video games, toys, and everything else that is special to him. Postponing our trip would be worth it in the long run. We would take the trip later in the summer; it would be even better because we would have more money for Busch Gardens and the beach. Deep down I knew that was a load of crap but I would never admit it to myself and especially not to Seth. I was too self-absorbed to realize that what was truly special to him was time spent with his habitually absent father.

I said nothing because I knew whatever came out of my mouth would be a lie. Instead I just smiled and winked at Seth but my ulcer made me pay for my insincerity. I reached for my bottle of Zantac in the center console and popped a couple of pills, then chased them with the warm remains of my morning Mountain Dew.

Ann had not returned from the doctor when we got home. I parked in the driveway, not bothering to pull into the garage since I would be leaving again shortly. Seth made a beeline for his room upstairs as soon as I opened the front door. He dropped his backpack on the couch as usual and bolted up the stairs.

I got another call from my boss to remind me of everything I needed to bring to the meeting tonight. I hardly noticed Seth when he came back downstairs to retrieve tape and scissors from a kitchen drawer. I was completely oblivious to his presence as I walked around with my phone on my shoulder as I made a cream cheese and cucumber sandwich. Otherwise, I would have probably scolded him as he ran up the stairs with the scissors. He was excited again.

I was still on the phone when Ann got home. She smiled and kissed me on the cheek and then excitedly hurried upstairs herself. I acknowledged her with a smile and a pat on the behind as Don rattled on about building specifications for our new line of manufactured homes. I was momentarily distracted as I watched her ascend the stairs; she was as fine walking away as walking toward me. Her silky chestnut hair, olive complexion, her long legs that went all the way up to her firm … well, I am a lucky man to have a woman so gorgeous and understanding. But sometimes it's not enough to understand what things mean; sometimes you have to understand what things don't mean. That was Ann's gift, to appreciate and understand the present, and my curse that I did not.

It didn't occur to me at first, until a few minutes after she closed the bedroom door, what she was doing, but by then it was too late. She was dressing for our dinner out, the dinner for her birthday, the dinner I would not be attending.

I got off the phone with Don as Ann was coming back downstairs. Her black dress accentuated every perfect feature. It made it much harder to say what I was about to say. She knew me so well I could see the comprehension wash across her face like a dark cloud before I even opened my mouth.

“You have a meeting tonight?” she asked quietly.

I nodded my head and put my hand on her shoulder.

“You remember that Memphis deal? Well, it's official! Don and I have to work on it tonight.”

She nodded her head and forced a smile. “That's great. When will you be home?”

“Not too late … about nine or ten.” I paused and put my arms around her. “I'm sorry about tonight, but you know how important this deal is.”

I felt her head nod against my shoulder. I heard a noise before she spoke; I couldn't tell if it was a sob or a quick breath.

“I'll wait up for you,” she whispered.

She pulled away when we heard Seth coming down the stairs. She flashed a sad smile at me then quickly turned her attention to our charging son. He wrapped his arms around her waist and administered the biggest bear hug he could manage.

“Happy birfday, Momma!” he announced as he reached one arm up and extended a hastily wrapped package.

Judging by the snowmen, I would say he had gotten into our Christmas wrapping paper. My gut clenched when I realized I had left my present at the office. But what had Seth gotten her? A short time earlier he was asking me to take him to the blue store to get her a present.

Ann leaned down and hugged Seth's neck then kissed him on the forehead. “Thank you baby,” she said. “What is it?”