One Way

Chapter 1

The shovel dug without much vigor into the hardening and heavy pile of snow at the end of Barry Griffith’s driveway. I should have shoveled this last night. A puff of steam accompanied each syllable of the self-admonishment. He had no idea that he was living inside what was to be his last 48 hours.

He stepped back, leaned on the handle of his trusty snow shovel and looked sourly at his 9-year-old Chevy Blazer. Barry was in a foul mood.

The vehicle itself was good transportation and gave him very little trouble, but he wanted more. The Millers next door for instance, they had more. They had their nice shiny new BMW and Jeep Cherokee parked in their driveway, neither of which was over two years old.

A nice Jeep Grand Cherokee, or heck since we’re dreaming, an H3 was what Barry wanted to be shoveling a path for instead of his Blazer.

More.

The mood he was in didn’t have so much to do with vehicles as it did doing his bills. He plunged his shovel back in the snow pile; this time only about a third of the way down from the top. He wanted to get this done but wanted his back to be intact afterwards.

It seemed no matter how hard he tried he just never seemed to have anything left over after the bills. He and Jenny were trying to save for the down-payment on a house, but never seemed to get any closer to that dream. The house they were renting wasn’t that bad, but it wasn’t theirs.

More. He wanted more.

After the shoveling came the cleaning off of the cars, which wasn’t as heavy or taxing as the shoveling, but was still solitary, mind-numbing work, leaving Barry in his gray thoughts.

When he stood back and looked at the mostly cleared driveway and the newly excavated vehicles, he got back a little of his energy, and a little reminder that his life wasn’t all that bad. It was pretty good actually.

He looked at the rented house and could see Jenny sitting at the desk off to the side of the living room, working on her lesson plans or correcting papers. He loved her and she loved him. She was a beautiful person inside and out, and was a dedicated teacher. What more could he ask for, right?

Well, a little more; about 8-10 pounds more actually. Barry and Jenny had always said they would have kids eventually, but wanted a little time to themselves as a married couple first. They both decided that getting into their own house was a prerequisite for kids, but lately Barry had been beginning to feel that time would never come.

Barry shook his head, perturbed at himself again as he saw the little plops of snow outlining both cars on the freshly shoveled driveway. Growing up in Maine his whole life should have taught him a few things, like clean the cars and then shovel the driveway, but not Barry. Like a snowbound Sisyphus, he was doomed to repeat his snow removal mistakes again and again.

As he was finishing up with the last few half-hearted tosses of snow onto the bank, he heard the phone chirp inside. Jenny got it halfway through the 2nd ring. He thought he could almost hear her melodious voice drift out even though the house was shut up tight, playing a losing defense against the cold. He continued with his shoveling assuming the phone was probably for her.

Bare, it’s your brother, she called out after a few minutes of chit-chat.

Oh, OK. Tell him I’ll be right there. Simon Griffith, now there was someone who had more. He was Barry’s older brother by three years, his only sibling, and he had the life Barry wanted. The house, yep, he had it; a nice one too. The kid, you betcha, a cute blond boy named Aaron. The cars, oh, let’s not go there.

He leaned the shovel against the side of the garage and headed for the house. Jenny was still chatting away and laughing with Simon. Barry was really appreciative of the fact that even though Simon lived a few hundred miles away, they and their families had remained close.

Here he is. See you, Simon. Tell Chloe I said hi. Jenny Griffith handed the phone to her husband. The look on her face did not match the friendly tone in her voice.

Tell him no, she mouthed to Barry and walked back to her desk.

What’s happening, Big G? Barry said as soon as the phone was in his hands.

Nothing, Little G what’s up with you? Simon used the nicknames they had created more than a decade ago.

Ah, just some shoveling, doing the weekend chores, all that. Barry knew that Simon hadn’t called just to chat. In general, the Griffith brothers were not big phone talkers. If you were to get them in a living room or over dinner, the conversations would last for hours, but not on the phone. Simon must have something to say.

Cool. Hey look, Chloe, Aaron and I are coming up to see Mom and Dad next weekend. We probably won’t have much time to catch up with you, but Chloe and I wanted to take Mom and Dad out to dinner. Would you be able to watch Aaron? Simon asked in his smooth confident voice.

Barry looked over at his own wife who gave him a stern look and mouthed ‘No’ again

Yeah sure, we’d love to. Barry lifted his hands in a what-else-could-I-do gesture. Jenny shook her head and turned back to her school work.

OK, we’ll bring him around by probably three or four.

Hey, what are you taking Mom and Dad out to dinner for?

Oh… ah… well, we just had something we wanted to tell them. Simon’s voice faltered.

I knew it! I knew it! Barry laughed into the phone. Jenny’s interest had been peaked from her perch in the corner.

Knew what?

Barry could practically see the sheepish grin on his brother’s face. They could never keep secrets from each other. You guys are going to have another baby aren’t you?

Don’t tell Mom and Dad! We want to surprise them. And don’t tell Chloe that you know. She’ll kill me for letting the cat out of the bag.

Barry was really happy for his brother and sister-in-law, but still the jealousy reared its head again. Here his brother had the cutest two-year-old on the planet, and he was getting another one.

He was getting more.

OK, we’ll act surprised when you guys spring it on us. Congratulations man! That is really too cool! Barry ended the phone conversation with his brother and then turned to face the wrath of Jenny who had wandered back into the kitchen toward the end of the conversation.

Look, before you say anything just... Barry started.

I’m not going to say anything, Jenny interrupted. It’s just that we have such hectic schedules, you working nights, me working days. We barely have any time for ourselves and then your brother and his wife pop up for a visit with your parents and we are the default babysitters. Don’t get me wrong, I love watching Aaron, but I’d like to have dinner with your parents too. Why can’t we all go out, including Aaron, and have a nice family night. I just feel like they never call unless they want something and can use us as the hired help.

I know, I know. But I don’t think it is like that. They have exciting news to tell my parents, and want to tell them over dinner. I like the idea that we are going to get to spend some time with Aaron. It will be fun… and we don’t have to leave the house. We can have a nice quiet evening with you, me and Aaron.

"They want to tell them over dinner because your dad always pays. I’m just sick of them assuming we have nothing going on, and we’ll be at their service, while they are living it up. When was the last time we went out to dinner with your parents? I’m just saying, is all." Jenny turned her back on her husband and started to walk back toward the living room.

Barry grabbed her around the waist from behind and playfully gave her a spin as he buried his face in her neck.

Oh boo-hoo. Woe is me. My life sucks. We never get nice things or invited out places. Barry teased her in a high pitched voice aware only on the edges that he was also mocking his own mood from a few minutes ago.

Stop it, Bare. That’s not going to work. I’m mad at you. Jenny struggled to get out of his arms, but her thrashes lacked conviction. Barry knew right where the tickly part on her neck was located, and he was using it to his full advantage.

Oh, that’s right. Because I never get my way I am going to stay mad all day, Barry continued in his high-pitched-voice. He knew he was winning her over. He also knew that he had consciously avoided a long debate by switching into his playful mood. Oh, he could have let this one go on and show her all the things he does for her, but to what end? Saturday afternoons shouldn’t be spent fighting.

I’m going to go out and shovel a path to the woodshed, and then I’ll be done. You want to go out to a movie after? Barry asked as he released his beautiful bride.

No, but you could run to the store and rent one. Maybe one of those stupid teeny bopper flicks.

Stupid? Oh, you like those, admit it, Barry egged her on.

Yeah, I do, and you like those stupid reality shows that you say you hate, but still never seem to miss, so there, she gave it back playfully.

Maybe I don’t need more, Barry thought, and then looked over at his pathetic 25 TV and DVD Player. He would much rather be watching a 52 high-definition wide screen with a Blue Ray and surround sound. More.

The next day in church Barry found it hard to act surprised when his parents told him Simon was coming up the following weekend. He hated to keep anything from his parents, even if it was a good surprise.

He and his father leaned against the hood of his car waiting for the ladies to finish up their own conversations with fellow parishioners. This had become a ritual ever since Barry could remember.

So what time do you get out? Sam Griffith was a fit man just a shade over 50, though people wouldn’t have guessed he wasn’t a day over 40. He ran a small landscaping business which kept him lean, muscular and tan / wind burned (you’d have to look at a calendar to confirm which). When you looked up ‘hard working Mainer’ in the dictionary it would be Sam Griffith’s face you would see.

Well, the shift ends at 11:00 and I can usually wrap up and hit the door by 11:30. Barry’s responsibilities as a manager at Eastern Teleservices including managing the efforts of a call center team.

And then you have to drive all the way from Augusta? His dad kicked his heel against one of the Blazer’s tires. Barry knew what was coming next, the same thing his father had said a million times since he had gotten his license as a teenager. I just hate the thought of you driving that late. You don’t get tired do you?

No Dad, that’s never bothered me, you know that. I just listen to the UFO nuts on that radio show and that is more than enough to keep me up.

But still, that’s gotta be 40 miles at least right? Sam pressed.

Yeah, something like that. It was actually 48.2 miles door to door.

Before the conversation could go any farther the Griffith women came strolling toward the car. Barry looked at the difference between the two women. Jenny had thick auburn hair and the kind, beautiful face of an angel. His mother was also beautiful with her ash blond hair that had managed to keep from getting any grays (only her hairdresser knows for sure).

That was quick, Sam Griffith said, picking up his Bible from the hood of Barry’s car. Are you sure there wasn’t someone else in that building that you could have talked to for the third time? I think the pastor is talking about making you a separate key to the church so you can lock up when you leave.

The good-natured ribbing elicited smiles from everyone. This was the same banter that Barry had heard every Sunday after church; just another part of the ritual.

Barry and Jenny were invited over to the elder Griffith’s for Sunday dinner but declined because they were going to catch a matinee movie in Rockland. Movies were kind of a hobby for Barry and Jenny. Most of their friends knew to call them up and ask their opinion on recent releases before heading out to the show.

Another sweet Sunday on the coast of Maine. The icky feeling of a Sunday evening before a workweek was still a few hours from full potency, but still on the periphery on the cold but sunny afternoon. The shadow of death hanging over Barry was not detected in the least by any of the family.

The next morning Barry was vaguely aware of Jenny kissing his forehead as she left for school. Barry didn’t have to leave for work until 1:00, so he typically slept until mid-morning.

Have a good day, he mumbled with his eyes still closed.

You too. Love you, Jenny whispered back.

Love you, too. Barry floated back into dreamland.

Just after 9:00 Barry finally rolled out of the saggy mattress and headed for the bathroom. After a quick pit stop, he headed down to the kitchen for a little cereal and some morning television surfing.

After the morning shows was the obligatory flipping through the channels. Some mornings he lucked out and found a good movie on one of the cable channels, but not this morning.

I guess I’ll go up and take a shower, Barry announced to no one in particular. Once in the shower, he was lost in the same thoughts he had every weekday while getting ready for work; how much he hated going to work in the evenings. It felt like he was wasting away his mornings and then had no quality time with Jenny in the evenings.

Oh well, maybe all that would change in the next few months. That seemed to be something that Eastern TeleServices seemed to be good at; moving people around from position to position.

Barry dressed sharply in a dark blue suit and a bright yellow power tie. He checked himself out in the mirror to make sure he still looked like he was dressing for the job he wanted, not the job he had.

Maybe I’d be better dressing in jeans and a t-shirt, he stated to his reflection, thinking about his dad’s landscaping business.

There was no truth to that threat. For one thing, his dad could barely pay him half of what he was making at ETS, not to mention the hard labor of landscaping had never been his cup of tea. Both he and Simon had spent their summers through the end of high school and college mowing, pruning, digging and spreading mulch. No, that was enough for this cowboy. Managing a team of phone reps at night and an hour away from home was still preferable to that.

After he confirmed to himself that he was still as handsome as always, he took off his jacket and went back downstairs. There would be more flipping and a tasteless burrito lunch before leaving for work, then the real fun could begin.

The drive to work was always a good time for Barry to put on his game face. As much as he complained about work, it was his career for now. He knew that his attitude had to be tip-top before he set foot in the cubicle littered building. After all, attitudes were contagious according to one of the many sayings painted around the perimeter of the calling floor. Was his worth catching?

The trip from beautiful seaside Carpenter Cove to Augusta was straight up Route 17, a state route that rolled through such beautiful inland towns like Union, Washington and Whitefield. In the summer these small communities seemed to have a rustic charm that Barry enjoyed. In the winter, however, they were a barren wasteland of mobile homes and broken down farmhouses that made Barry wonder why he still lived in Maine - why he hadn’t packed up for greener pastures like Simon.

As he pulled into a parking space near the back of the lot and shut off the car, he picked up the canvas L.L. Bean briefcase that Jenny had gotten him for Christmas last year. He lightly ran his hand over the monogram that she had requested to be stitched on the front. BAG.

It was sort of the running joke that it wasn’t actually a monogram, but a label to remind Barry of what the strange green canvas thing was, oh yeah, a bag. Har-de-har.

Barry swiped his name badge which doubled as a card key in the slot of the front door, waited for the click of the lock disengaging and stepped in.

Hey Barry, how’s it going? a short secretary named Teresa asked as he walked in.

Very good. How are you doing? The reply was virtually automatic.

Barry moved on through the office building exchanging similar words with a few other people until he got to his own cubicle.

The message light glowed on his phone which meant he had at least one message on his voicemail, probably more. That was another downside to working a later shift; the world kept going in the mornings before he got to work. A lot of work got done before he even pulled out of his driveway. He always had to play catch-up for the first few hours of his shift.

Barry booted up his computer and logged in with his password before checking the voicemail. There would undoubtedly be several e-mails as well.

Hey Barry! Let’s go. We’re gonna be late. Standing in front of Barry’s cubicle was Max Anders, a tall, thin, black man that Barry considered one of his closest friends at work - if you could call anyone at work a friend, that is.

Late for what? Barry turned toward his peer. Max was also a floor manager who had a similar shift to Barry. They would always start friendly rivalries between their phone reps at night to keep the energy going.

Oh, you haven’t logged in yet. Greg wanted to have a quick staff meeting with the managers. It’s in his conference room.

Right now? Barry had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Greg was the director of the department, Barry’s manager’s manager. He always felt nervous about meeting with directors, especially after a weekend and not having checked his e-mail and voicemail. What if something was going on and Barry was in the dark? What if Greg wanted to talk about the department’s numbers?

Yeah. Pedal to the metal man. Max turned to leave.

Hold up. Barry reached into his BAG bag and grabbed his leather bound scheduler. Anything big going on I should know about?

Naw, just volume concerns. I guess a couple of the big clients are going to step up their marketing which will drive up call volume.

Great! We’re already having problems with hold time. Barry walked in step with Max. Some of the clients are already not happy I’m sure.

Yeah, I know. That was how Barry’s workday started, 0-60 in 5 seconds, and little did he know that it was going to get even more hectic as the day progressed.

The one good thing about being buried under a mountain of work is that the clock seems to move twice as fast. Barry looked up at one point thinking he had been at work for only an hour or two and was surprised to see that it was almost 5:00.

He activated the secure screensaver on his computer, announced to his team that he would be right back, and walked toward the small cafeteria with his small brown bag in his hand.

Again, like most other aspects of his life, Barry found himself going through an often repeated procedure of heating up his microwave meal, purchasing a soda from the sad-faced cafeteria lady, and heading to an uninhabited part of the building to enjoy his modest dinner.

He could have eaten in the cafeteria except for two facts:

1. A manager didn’t eat in the cafeteria. In fact, many managers didn’t really eat much at all. The unspoken rule at Eastern Teleservices was that only people on the clock got to eat. People on salary weren’t expected to waste time on such trivial things as that.

2. He could eat his dinner in one of the empty manager cubes in a wing of the building that had yet to be filled and talk on the phone to Jenny at the same time. That was the one high point in the day that no one would take away from him.

On the third ring she picked up. Hello?

Hey, it’s me. Barry took a bite of his fake cheese and imposter pasta creation.

Hold on, my dad’s on the other line. Let me get off with him. Jenny clicked over leaving Barry in the silent void of call waiting. She came back a few seconds later.

Hello, my big strong man. How’s your day? Her voice immediately lifted Barry’s spirits.

It’s busy. I wish I were home with you. I totally have a case of the Mondays. Even though he was in a far back corner of the building, he didn’t want anyone to hear him use such an asinine phrase as ‘a case of the Mondays’.