Rules Get Broken by John Herbert

Author:John Herbert [Herbert, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Memoir
Publisher: Untreed Reads Publishing
Published: 2012-08-24T04:00:00+00:00

Fifty-One

Friday came and went, then Saturday, and then came Sunday, August 31st. Mercifully, my parents said nothing more about Nancy or our dinner plans for Sunday night. But they really didn’t have to, given the war that was going on in my mind. A war between emotion and logic, between conventional right and unconventional wrong. A war between me and a harsh, persistent voice I was beginning to recognize as my conscience. A voice that, as one might expect, had been the cause of much pain over the last three days.

But in spite of the voice, here I was standing in the guest bathroom of my parents’ home, staring at myself in the mirror, in the final minutes of getting ready to pick up Nancy.

“Why are you all dressed up, Daddy?” Jennie asked from the hall as she peered into the bathroom.

“Hi, sweetheart,” I said while I retied my tie for the fourth time. “Daddy’s going out for a little while tonight.”

“Will you come back?” Jennie asked, her eyes wide with fear.

“Of course I will, silly.” I knelt down to give her a reassuring hug, and my heart ached at the thought of what must have prompted that question. “I’ll be back. I promise. And then tomorrow morning, you and I and John will have breakfast together. How does that sound?”

“Can I have pancakes?”

“You can if Grandma makes them. But you’ll have to ask Grandma because Daddy doesn’t know how to make pancakes.”

“I’ll ask Grandma then.”

She gave me a hurried kiss before scampering down the hall calling “Grandma.” I turned back to the mirror one last time.

I don’t believe you’re doing this, the voice suddenly said to me from the face in the mirror. I really don’t believe you’re going out on a date!

“This isn’t a date. I’m just going out to dinner with someone.”

That’s bullshit. And we’ve already been there! You know damn well this is a date.

“I just want someone to talk to. That’s all.”

There were at least five hundred other names on that list. You could have called any one of them if all you wanted to do is talk.

“You know that’s not true. I don’t know most of those people.”

You don’t know Nancy Charlton either. At least not well enough to think you can talk to her.

“I think I can.”

Yeah, right.

“What are you saying? Why do you think I called her?”

I don’t know why you called her. But I do know you used to watch her go to work every morning. And I remember how she looked that day in her parents’ backyard when her mother invited you over for a beer. Remember that, pal? The yellow bikini? And I remember how you and Dave and Frank Bennett used to talk about what a good-looking kid she was. Yeah, I remember that too. So…why do I think you called her? Beats me, but somehow I don’t think it was just to talk.

“Now that’s crap. For Christ’s sake, my wife just died.”

My point exactly.

“What kind of person do you think I am?”

You tell me, pal.

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