Tracking Time

Forty-four

Ten people including Janice Owen's boss and her boss's boss were in a meeting in the conference room when her secretary, Denise, came in and handed her a note about David. Janice had been paying strict attention to the proceedings. She knew what everyone in the room was wearing. She knew from the expressions on their faces all their feelings about the contents of the ten-page memo they were discussing. She knew the substance of the memo's communication. She had not, however, listened to a single thing anyone had said since they'd all gotten their little coffees and nondairy creamers and sweeteners and sat down to strategize.

Janice couldn't concentrate because she was thinking about her bed, a king so wide it enabled her husband night after night, month after month, never actually to touch her no matter what his position or how much he tossed around. If he didn't snore like a pig, she wouldn't know he was there at all. No good-night kisses, no messing around in the kitchen. Nothing. Janice was on a rampage, her every feeling offended by Bill's humming in the shower as he fondled his very large erection while he no doubt fantasized doing it with the ugly bitch Peggy, who was now giving him expensive ties with lovebirds on them.

Janice was furious at herself for having been so nice, so accepting of his long work hours, his exhaustion, and his worry over his work, which he had the bad taste to keep reminding her brought in the bacon. Peggy was twenty-eight, blond, thin as a rake, and a conniving bitch who wanted a husband even if she had to resort to stealing one. Janice felt like a jerk for not taking this Peggy thing seriously a lot sooner. Murder was too good for the girl. The bitch deserved a lingering painful death. How could this be accomplished, she wondered. Shooting her would be too easy. Poison? Disfiguring disease? Cancer?

Janice's thoughts turned to money. Bill made three quarters of a million a year, plus a big bonus. Janice made a hundred and fifty thousand. She could not live as well if he divorced her. She could not manage their son's behavior on her own-but maybe she could. Maybe divorce would be better for them all. She could take Bill for everything he had. New York State was great for women. She could get a lawyer to calculate the value of Bill's partnership in his firm over a lifetime and demand half. It happened all the time. Bill would either have to pay her big-time alimony every month or give her many millions of dollars up front. Either way, she would keep the apartment and get child support for David-who needed tutors and doctors and college money and heaven knew what else. Bill wouldn't have much left for any kind of life with Peggy. Ha!

But who would she go out with? What kind of life would she have with a troublesome teenager and no husband? Janice took the note from Denise and read it. Her bad day suddenly got worse.

David's school is on the phone, was what the note said.

"I'll take it." Janice folded the piece of paper and was out of her chair without a beat. What was it, ten in the morning? She checked her watch. Uh-uh, not even. It was nine-forty-eight, way too early for something like a broken bone in sports. Second period was Contemporary American History. No, David hadn't gotten hurt in some accident. The school hadn't burned down. She knew what this was about.

She changed gears in an instant. See what a wonderful mother she was. She was at work in an important meeting, she had a life of her own; she was good at her job. Did she hesitate when the boy's school was on the line? Here they were in the middle of a merger, she had important things to do. She could not afford to jeopardize her career, but, as always, her son came first. That was more than Bill could say. The school never called him.

Janice sailed down the hall to her office and took the call on her own line. "Yes, Janice Owen," she said sweetly.

"Oh hi, Mrs. Owen. This is Margery Redich at Prep. I'm just calling about David. He didn't come in yesterday or this morning. I didn't get a call back from you yesterday when David didn't come in, either." Her perky voice suddenly took on a slight accusatory tone.

The rage caught Janice right in the throat. Both days she'd driven David to school herself. They'd had nice conversations. This morning she'd left him right in front of the door. Her chest constricted with the betrayal of both the men in her life. After the way she'd stuck her neck out for David, she should bust him now, let him get expelled. He should be punished for this. But it never occurred to her to let such a thing happen.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she gushed. "I know I should have called. We're in the middle of a merger here, and I'm a little distracted. David is really sick. He has the flu. Must be a stomach virus or something. He'll be in tomorrow for sure. He's at the doctor now."

"Okay, just checking. Have a good day, Mrs. Owen."

"Thank you so much for calling. My mistake for not letting you know sooner."

Janice hung up and dialed her husband.

"Mr. Owen's office, may I help you?" The precise voice of Bill's male secretary came on the line.

"You certainly may, Greg. Is he there?"

"Oh, Mrs. Owen. He's on the phone right now. Shall I have him call you when he gets off?"

"No, I need to talk to my husband now. It's an emergency," she said coldly.

"He's on long distance."

"It's still an emergency, Greg."

"Okay, I'll try."

Janice looked at her watch. She'd been gone a minute and a half. They wouldn't miss her for another two. Bill came on the line a full minute later.

"What is it, Janice?"

"David is playing hooky again. Fat lot of good you did in your little talk with him this morning."

"Is this what you're calling me for?"

"The school just called. This is serious."

"I thought you took him there yourself. It's not my fault if he doesn't stay."

"Whose fault do you think it is, mine?" Janice was appalled at this outrageous suggestion.

"I certainly can't be responsible if you get him all upset in the car." Bill's tone was not nice at all.

"I don't get him upset," Janice protested.

"Look, I have to go to court in five minutes."

"Bill, I want you to come home early tonight. We'll have dinner together and talk. This is very serious. They're going to kick him out if he doesn't knuckle under."

"It's not knuckle under. It's settle down."

"Whatever! Bill! We have to do something."

"Fine. Just get him on the phone and tell him to go to school now."

"Ah, I can't."

"Why not, Janice?" Bill was impatient now.

"I told the school he had the flu."

"Well, tell David to have a miraculous recovery."

"Okay, I'll tell him," she said meekly. "Are you coming home tonight?"

"Of course I'm coming home. Where else would I go?" He hung up without saying good-bye.