11-08-2011, 05:33 AM | #1 |
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The Good Provider
It was 11:15pm. He had only 45 minutes. If he did not make the quota, he would not be paid. He poured himself another drink. What was he going to do? What would he tell his wife? What would happen to the life he built? What would people say?
When he accepted his position with the Department of Transportation right out of college, he felt he had hit the jackpot. He had been selected to work in a special sector of the agency. A sector of which he was not allowed to speak. Not even his wife was to know. All she knew was he went to work every morning at 8am and was home for dinner every night at 6pm. He wore a suit and tie, was home on weekends, was an excellent father, loved his wife, and was an excellent provider. She did not ask for much more than that. She liked their life and the ability to buy whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. What her husband actually did was not of interest to her. She loved him of course, but when it got right down to it, she did not care what his job was, only that he keep it, as it not only paid the bills, but also for extravagant vacations, nice cars, their home in the best part of their little city, and a wealth of other things that may or may not be necessary. They had met during their junior year in college. He, the overly handsome overachiever with dark curly hair, light blue eyes, and a body built for the power and the glory. She, that year’s Miss Virginia runner-up in the Miss America pageant. While she did not have quite the brains to match her beauty, she was warm and kind and loved her husband completely. It just made sense these two would find each other. Two beautiful people, off to conquer the world together, their family made complete with the addition of two girls, who given the genes of the parents, were beautiful, healthy, and the happiest of children. His star had always been on the rise. He was exceptionally bright and no one worked harder. Having come from meager beginnings he was determined to overcome and make a financially comfortable life for himself and his family. So when he accepted a position with the Department of Transportation, people did not understand. Government positions, while offering great benefits, did not pay all that well. He had graduated first in his class and continued his study to eventually receive his Master’s in Engineering, specifically roadways and bridges. He was expected to sign on with one of the more successful agencies and his career selection was alarming to those who knew him best. 30 minutes. He was down to 30 minutes. He called down to the control center. Hoping for a new accident update. It rang and rang but no one answered. It was a Saturday night. It was New Year’s Eve. The people that usually manned the control center phones were attending the party on the third floor of the building. No one would be there. These were people who actually received a regular paycheck. People that did not have to worry about making a quota to get paid. They were the people he needed to talk with right now. The people that would know his fate. The people that would not be there. When he first learned what was expected of him at his new job. He was appalled. How does the government justify the killing of innocent people like that? How was he going to live with himself if he took the job, and was good at it. Then they told him about the salary. He was blinded by all the zeroes and forgetting his reservations about how it might affect his psyche, took the job. Now time was closing in on him. He needed three more bodies. Were they not to come, he would not make his quota, would not make his paycheck. He was good at what he did. He had to rely on that. Surely on a Saturday night, New Year’s Eve, with all the people out drinking and partying, three more would die. They had too. His whole world depended upon it. He poured himself another drink. This would finish off the bottle. He was drunk to be certain, but not nearly drunk enough. He was going to need more. He rummaged through his drawers; nothing. He was going to have to head to the store but did not want to make a move until he knew what his future held. 20 minutes now. It was all too much. If he failed, he would have to tell his wife. Would she leave him? Would she understand? It was more than that really. How do you tell your wife, the woman that so believed in him, that he is perhaps one of the most prolific mass murderers of all time? He took the job knowing what was expected. It was explained that with the ever-growing population, steps must be taken to keep it under control. Yet it was not as though the government could go around just killing large amounts of people. It just wasn’t done. At least not in the United States. So they had a plan. A plan where all the deaths would appear as accidents, because they would be. This is where he and others like him came in. It was their job to design roadways and bridges where a certain amount of people had to die yearly. In his 10 years with the DOT, he was personally responsible for the deaths of over 500,000 people. Men, women, children, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers. Age, sex, religion, background, none of that mattered. It was done by body count. There was no extra bonus for taking out a busload of ballplayers, nuns, prisoners, or children. They were bodies, plain and simple. Bodies he needed to die, on his roadwork, on his bridges, to make the quota, to get paid. Oh sure, at first he was horrified by what he did. But at year’s end, when that big, fat paycheck rolled in, he was able to put all that away in some little compartment in the back of his mind. He found that as the years passed, it became easier. Yes, the quota demands rose yearly and he was forced to work harder but he still found it all worth it when it was payday. He no longer thought about the death. He was motivated by the money and the ability to keep his family safe and comfortable. The families of those that died because of him were irrelevant. He needed to keep his family happy. His wife was unaware that his pay came only once a year. She thought he was paid monthly as with the help of a college friend, a money manager, he had arranged for monthly installments to be sent to the house. While certainly a beautiful woman, she had never been terribly bright. She never questioned anything he told her. She believed in him, trusted him completely and while he loved her, her belief and trust in him, endeared her unto him further. Now, with only 15 minutes left and 3 more bodies needed, his greatest fear was not how the bills would be paid throughout the coming year, but how would he tell his wife. What could he possibly tell her that would make sense? He loved his wife but he knew her attachments to spa days, the finest of food and wine, her penchant for entertaining and travel. Were these things to abruptly become unavailable, would she stay? She was a beautiful woman. Did she truly love him, or just what he provided? He hoped not to have to find out. His two little girls, ages 6 and 3, so happy in their private school, so in love with the tutu’s they wore for ballet classes and recitals, their horseback riding lessons, so used to having the best of the best. Much too young to understand. If their mother were to leave, they too would go. His whole world came down to 10 minutes. He needed a drink. The phone in his office rang. He was so lost in thought, in worry, it startled him. Surely this must be the call he has been waiting for. Surely, he has made his quota. He answered the phone. He does not even attempt to hide his disappointment when he discovers it is not control, but his wife. She and the girls are just arriving home from her mother’s where they spent the Christmas holiday. He was unable to go with them because next year’s quotas had been issued and his load was to be much heavier. He was issued a mandate for an additional 20,000 bodies and he wanted to get a jump on the design work. She is tired and asks why he is so late at the office, particularly on a holiday He can not think about such trivial matters at the moment. Doesn’t she know their whole world rides on the next few minutes? Of course she doesn’t. She has no idea how he pays for her to wear the best clothing, to keep her hair just as she likes it, to drive the best of cars. She has no idea who he truly is or what he truly does. He finds himself barking at her angrily. It is not her fault but he is anxious, drunk, and displaces his emotional state unto her. She, being of gentle nature, attempts to calm him. She knows him, or thinks she does. She asks what is bothering him. She wonders to herself why he is drunk at work. She knows he sometimes has bad days at work. But to her knowledge, he never drinks at work. Even when there is an office party. A little more demurely this time, she asks when he will be coming home. She tells him she and the girls have missed him. He tells her he is busy and hangs up. She is hurt and does not understand the belligerence. Yet she knows she will never ask why. That is not her place. 7 minutes now. He has to find out. He stumbles to the office door, headed for control. He will look up the accident reports on his own. It is Saturday night for Christ sake. It is a holiday. 3 bodies is nothing, but where are they? He makes it to control. Pulls up the information. Still 3 shy, he begins to panic. He really needs a drink. There is a liquor store just down the street. He knows the street well. It was one of the first he was to design. He knows he can get there and back well in time to find out the final totals. Why does he even need to come back? Whether or not he is here, it is going to be whatever it is going to be. He exits the building, gets in the car, and heads off to the liquor store. As he drives to the store he sees his wife’s car. What is she doing here? Their home, while not far away, is on the other side of town. Why is she here? She is sitting at a stop light waiting for the light to change. It does and she moves into the intersection. He sees it unfolding. The truck, moving much too quickly, has blown the light. It heads straight for the vehicle carrying his wife and two little girls. He hears screaming. He realizes the screams come from him. He crushes the accelerator. Maybe, just maybe, he can get there before the truck slams into the car carrying his world. It occurs to him that even if he gets there, what can he do? He doesn’t know but tears off in that direction anyway. It is then he feels it. It came from nowhere and it’s impact causes his head to slam into the driver’s side window with such force he is killed instantly. At the funeral reception, the mood is morose. Such a young man. Such a beautiful young man. The loving husband, the wonderful father, the good provider. His wife is devastated and inconsolable. She watched it happen. She saw his car rushing toward her. She had no idea what he was doing. She remembered the phone call to his office. How drunk he sounded. He should not be driving. She had headed to his office to pick him up. She did not want him to get into an accident on the way home. Why was he racing toward them like that? If only she had been able to get there a few minutes earlier. His death and the death of the others would have been avoided. She knew it was not her fault, but that did not alleviate her guilt. His official time of death was 11:59pm. The two elderly people in the other car had lingered a bit longer before finally succumbing to their injuries. Such a tragic accident. She had tried to shield her girls from seeing the aftermath of the accident, to keep them from seeing their father’s bloody, battered and lifeless body. She could not protect them from everything. They heard the screams and cries of the elderly couple as they lie dying in their car. They caught glimpses of their father as he was lifted onto the gurney, his head lolling back and forth as they placed him into the ambulance. The horrors they witnessed cause them to wake at night screaming, calling for their dad. The loving husband, the wonderful father…the good provider. |
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11-15-2011, 03:21 AM | #2 |
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wow! excellent writing!
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09-18-2017, 10:51 AM | #3 |
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Wow, very interesting story-line, exceptional writing!
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