It was late Monday afternoon, and the kids had finished school. Dexter had finished answering e-mails. He had worked a bit on an article about recouping the costs of operating a home office. Will had taken off on his own, presumably to play games on his computer. This left Dexter with the task of taking Sarah to the hospital, to visit her mother.
She sat in the front seat while he navigated through the after-school traffic. He was stopped at a traffic light staring up at the camera mounted next to it. That was another nice little service of modern times – cameras to enforce traffic laws even when there wasn't an officer around. It was another product to enforce 'safe' behavior.
He thought about the number of times that he had sat at a red light at night when there was not another car around. When he was younger, he would have gone through the intersection, after assuring that there wasn't another car around. The traffic light was to improve safety. Now the traffic light was 'law' and 'law enforcer.' It was like everyone had forgotten its original purpose.
"So what are you going to do while waiting for me?" Sarah asked interrupting his thoughts.
"I'll drink some more of that foul coffee they serve there," Dexter answered. He patted his pocket as he added, "I brought my pink pills with me."
"You have stomach problems?" Sarah asked.
"I have a weak stomach. Bad coffee tends to upset it," Dexter answered. "It used to be worse."
"Why don't you come up to visit mom?" Sarah asked.
"I don't want to talk to her," Dexter said.
"You're going to have to talk to her sometime," Sarah said.
"Why?" Dexter asked thinking that Sarah had sounded just like her mother.
Sarah said, "Family events."
"Such as?"
"Graduations, weddings, and birthdays," Sarah answered.
The only event that actually required his wife and him to be near each other was a wedding. He figured that would be years from now.
To make his point, Dexter asked, "Are you planning on getting married, soon?"
"No. I'm only sixteen," Sarah said surprised that he would even ask the question.
"Is Will planning on getting married, soon?"
"No," Sarah answered.
Dexter said, "We'll cross those 'family events' bridges when we get to them. For now, I'm going to stick with the status quo."
"There's no bend in you, is there?" Sarah asked.
"Nope," Dexter answered. "I'm an inflexible bastard."
Sarah shook her head. She smirked thinking that there was more than one way to skin a cat.
She asked, "Will you give me your cell phone number?"
"No."
"Why not?" Sarah asked once again surprised by his answer.
"Because you'll give it to your mother. She'll call me from some number that I won't recognize. I'll answer it, anyway. She'll say something, and I'll throw the phone against the wall. Then I'll have to replace the cell phone. She'll keep calling and I'll keep breaking cell phones. I can't afford to replace too many cell phones," Dexter answered.
"How can I get in touch with you?" Sarah asked.
"You've got my old phone number. I still check it for messages once a week. If you need me in case of an emergency, you've got my e-mail address. Just don't mention your mother's name in it. The spam filter will put it in the junk folder," Dexter said.
There were already a number of e-mails in it. He hadn't bothered to check who they were actually from.
"God, I don't believe you," Sarah said.
She crossed her arms and stared at her father as if he was some sort of slime.
"It's true. I wrote the spam filter rules myself," Dexter said.
"That's not what I meant," Sarah said.
"Oh," Dexter said.
Sarah looked around the front seat of the car. She noticed his Droid touch pad.
She asked, "What's this?"
"That's my new touch pad. I just bought it. I'm going to read while you're chatting with ... you know..."
"You can't even say her name," Sarah said incredulously.
"So?"
"You're hopeless," Sarah said.
Dexter said, "No. We already agreed that I'm an inflexible bastard."
Upon their arrival at the hospital, Dexter grabbed a coffee and took a seat in the cafeteria. He popped a pink pill and chewed it, then chased away the chalky taste with a swig of the vile coffee. He opened his touch pad and looked over the applications that came with it. There wasn't much there. He went online, via the hospital's wifi, to the app download store and browsed the applications.
He noticed that a copy of the U.S. Army Survival Book was available for download. It was free. Satisfied with the price, he downloaded a copy, and dug into it.
After the second page, he muttered, "This is great. I should write a survival guide for the workplace."
He took a sip of his coffee and returned to reading. The coffee irritated his stomach. He set down the touch pad and dug out another of the pink pills. He popped one in his mouth and started chewing.
He was reaching for his touch pad when, much to his surprise, Sarah sat on his lap.
"Wh..."
"Still eating the pink pills, I see," a familiar voice said from behind him.
"Go away," Dexter said finding that he couldn't get up with Sarah on his lap.
"No," Janet replied.
"Shit."
Janet said, "Don't swear like that in front of your daughter."
"Fu..."
His words were cut off when Sarah put her hand over his mouth.
Looking over his shoulder at her mother, Sarah said, "He drops the f-bomb a lot. Particularly when talking about you."
"That's being a real good role model," Janet said sarcastically.
"Go away," Dexter said in a low growl.
He was half tempted to dump his daughter to the floor, and storm off.
Janet said, "I need a ride home."
"Take a cab," Dexter said.
"He's hopeless," Sarah said.
In a whiny voice, Janet said, "Poor little boy. The other kids won't play nice so you're gonna grab your bat and go home."
"Shut up," Dexter said while staring fixedly at the floor.
"You can't abandon her here," Sarah said.
Dexter said, "Get off my lap."
"No," Sarah said.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tightly.
"Uck!"
"Let your father breathe," Janet said.
Sarah eased her hold on her father's neck.
Dexter said, "Fucking ambush me like that. Shit. What did I do to deserve this?"
"See. He drops the f-bomb a lot," Sarah said.
"Watch your language, we're in a public place," Janet said.
Dexter growled. "We're not married any more."
"Yes, we are," Janet said.
"We're separated. Sep ah ray ted ... Do you know what that means? It means we're not together. You've got no right to tell me shit. Got it?" Dexter said.
"I didn't really want a divorce," Janet said lamely.
With anger evident in his voice, Dexter said, "I got that all figured out. The ass wipe that you were sleeping with wasn't all that interested in being with you, after you kicked me to the curb. He dumped your ass, and then you wanted me back. Well ... I don't play that game. So fuck you, and the horse you rode in on. Leave ... me ... alone."
"There was no other man," Janet protested.
She knew he was about to blow a fuse and any chance of talking to him had flown out the window.
Barely able to control his anger, Dexter said, "If you don't get off of me Sarah, I swear I'll throw you across the room."
"Just listen to her, Daddy," Sarah begged.
"I'm gonna count to three," Dexter said. "One ... Two..."
Sarah could see that he was serious. She stood up. Dexter got out of his chair and stormed off, without looking backwards.
"That didn't go as planned," Janet said.
He had never even turned to look at her.
Sarah said, "He left his touch pad here. Do you think he'll be back for it?"
"No," Janet said.
"You're probably right," Sarah said staring down at the touch pad. "Army Survival Guide. Jesus, I hope he doesn't go postal."
Janet sighed. "You better call your brother. We need a ride home."
"I'll push you up to your room," Sarah said grabbing hold of the handles on the wheelchair.
Dexter drove off in a blind rage. He wanted to hurt someone, or break something. After several blocks he pulled over to the side of the road, and got out of the car.
He spotted a trash can sitting by the curb. He went over to it and kicked it. It fell over. It felt good so he kicked it again. He wished that it was an old fashioned metal trashcan that would dent when he kicked it. It wasn't.
"Hey! What in the hell are you doing?" a man shouted from a nearby house.
Dexter kicked the trashcan again and again. By this time, one of the plastic bags inside the trashcan had fallen out. He kicked the plastic bag, tearing it. Trash scattered over the whole area. There was an empty can on the ground. He stomped on it and flattened it. That felt real good. He looked around for more cans to flatten.
"You're going to pick up all that trash," the man shouted.
Dexter ignored him. He kicked the trashcan sending it down the street. It made an odd hollow sound that was disappointing. A plastic bag fell out without breaking. Dexter searched for more things to flatten.
"I'm going to call the police," the man shouted.
The man hadn't needed to call the police. A cop car pulled up to the curb, even while he had been making the threat. Two officers got out of the car. They exchanged a glance that spoke volumes about their impression of Dexter' sanity, as they slowly approached him.
"Calm down, fella," one of the cops said.
"Can't a guy stomp on some trash?" Dexter asked.
It seemed to him that people weren't allowed to express any kind of strong emotions any more. You couldn't vent your anger on an inanimate object without the police showing up. It was like people weren't supposed to feel things anymore. He hauled off and kicked a bottle down the street.
"How much have you had to drink?"
Dexter stopped upon hearing the accusation, and looked at the police.
He answered, "I haven't had anything to drink."
After taking and passing a 'field sobriety test', Dexter was left standing at the curb with two tickets in hand. One ticket was for disturbing the peace and the other was for littering. He looked down at the tickets wondering how much they were going to cost him.
He mumbled, "I'm a real desperado."
"Are you going to pick up all that trash?" the man who had been yelling at him asked.
"You got a rake?" Dexter asked.
"Yeah," the man answered.
The man headed off to one of the houses. While he was gone, Dexter walked down the street and picked up the trashcan. He grabbed the plastic bag that had fallen out, and stuffed it in the trashcan. The man returned a couple of minutes later with a rake and a plastic trash bag.
While Dexter raked up the trash, the man asked, "Why in the hell did you do that?"
"You ever been so angry that you wanted to kill someone?" Dexter asked.
"More times than I can count," the man answered.
"Well, I kicked the trashcan, rather than killing a person," Dexter said.
The man laughed. "That's what dogs are for. You're supposed to kick the dog."
"I don't have a dog," Dexter said.
He knew that he'd probably get a life sentence for kicking a dog. You could kill a person and get ten years; but harm an animal, and God help you.
The man asked, "So what got your panties in a bind?"
"The wife ... well ... she's not really my wife any more ... well ... I guess she is. We're separated," Dexter said.
He didn't know how to categorize his wife in terms of being separated. She wasn't his ex-wife and she wasn't his wife. She was something in between.
"I know what you're feeling. I kicked my first wife to the curb. She was a cheating bitch," the man said. He spat on the ground.
Dexter found he liked the idea of referring to Janet as his first wife. It suggested they weren't together without actually saying they were divorced.
He said, "My ... first wife ... told me she wanted a divorce. Then she didn't want one. Now she's got the kids trying to talk me into going back to her."
"You're handling it better than I did. I got drunk, decided that I needed some more whiskey, and drove my car through the back of the garage," the man said while making a gesture suggesting a car going forwards. He added, "Cost three grand to fix the car, and two grand to fix the garage."
"That was an expensive drunk," Dexter said.
The man said, "At least no one called the cops so I didn't get a DWI. I did end up sleeping in the car all night, with the front half of it sticking out the back of the garage."
"I'm glad you didn't get a DWI," Dexter said.
"You've got to look for the silver lining."
"Yeah."
By this time, Dexter had all of the garbage collected and in the plastic bag. He put the bag into the trashcan. He looked down at his hands. They were filthy. He asked, "You got a hose I can use to wash my hands?"
"Sure," the man said.
While Dexter washed his hands, the man said, "You ever consider a Nevada divorce? The bitch doesn't even have to agree to it. You just live there for a bit, and get rid of her cheating ass."
"I hadn't ever heard of that," Dexter said.
"Look into it, if she's fighting you on the divorce. You might be surprised at how easy it is to get rid of her."
Dexter wiped off his hands on his pants. The man shut off the water.
"I'll look into it. In the worst case, I'll visit a cathouse or two while I'm there," Dexter said.
"I'd be afraid of going to a Nevada whorehouse. My first wife is probably working in one of them by now," the man said.
Thinking he was joking, Dexter laughed.
"I'm not kidding," the man said. "She was a round heeled bitch."
"Sorry to hear that," Dexter said.
Edited By TeNderLoin