I'm not a violent guy, you know?  "Make love, not war," that's my motto.

But I could strangle her right now.

Who?  Who the hell do you think?  Miss Lake Forest herself.  Marcia Elaine Mackenzie Hobson.

And don't think I don't know what's gonna happen.  Gary doesn't realize it yet, or at least he won't admit it, not even to himself.  But this is the end.  No, make that THE END.  All caps.  It's over.  She's gonna divorce him, you wait and see.  I keep expecting some damn process server to show up at the office any minute and hand him the papers.

How do I know?  Hey, they don't call it "the old Fishman charm" for nothing.  I know women.  Hell, I've dated more of 'em in a single year than Gar has since he got out of high school.  But what's more, I know Marcia.

I told him she wasn't right for him.  Told him more than once.  Hey, people say I'm shallow, maybe it takes one to know one.  I could see right through her from the minute she started chasing him.  Little Miss Butter-Won't-Melt-in-My-Mouth, indeed.  Damn right it won't melt, it'll steam.  It was never his idea, you know.  He thought it was, but she was in control of it from the very first.

God, what a mess.

You know how they say the husband's always the last to know?  It's true.  Not that Marcia was having any affairs, unless it was with her legal texts.  At least I don't think she was.  But poor Gary, he never even suspected.  Didn't have one damn clue.

You want to guess what she did?  Stripped their joint accounts down to the last hundred dollars.  She must've started as soon as the last bank statements came.  A little each day, it mounts up.  By the time she was ready to change the locks, the cupboard was bare.  Now I like money, but that's too cold even for me.  Gary's just lucky his portfolio's in his name alone or she'd have probably gotten that too.

Not that he'd have ever expected her to try.  Gary's so...so innocent, you know?   Helluva thing to say about a guy his age in the 1990's, but he is.  He sees the best in people.  He looks for it, even if it isn't there.  Or maybe he just makes it up because he wants it to exist.  Maybe that's why the two of us have always been so close, because in a lot of ways we're polar opposites.  Gary doesn't really care about money; oh, he likes having what he thinks is enough of it, likes to be comfortable, but he's not hungry like me.  Gary's an idealist; I'm a cynic.  Gary wants to make a difference in the world; I just want to make a difference in my own life.

He was never in love with Marcia, not the real Marcia.  He was in love with what he thought she was, what she let him see.  Hell, that woman shouldn't have gone to law school; she should have gone to Hollywood.  She's a born actress.   She could make a fortune.  Soaps.  The next Susan Lucci.

So what does she do?  She decides to show up her hidebound old-fashioned no-daughter-of-mine-is-going-0n-to-do-postgrad-work-and-go-out-in-the-rough-business-world daddy, to prove she inherited a lot of more of him than his name, and latches on to my best friend to pay her way.

That's all she ever wanted him for, just a meal ticket.  Or maybe I should say a tuition ticket.  Good old Gary Matthew Hobson, apple pie, peanut butter and jelly, baseball-hot-dogs-Chevrolet-Mom-and-country small-town boy.  One thing I have to give her, she's smart.  She had him pegged from the minute they met.  He's as much a traditionalist in his own way as her father ever was.  He was brought up to work hard, toe the line, be a good provider, a good family man, the whole shtick.  He made a vow to "forsake all others"?  You bet he would.  Won't so much as look sideways at another woman.  She needed money to go to law school?  Fine, he'd take a job and put her through.  Not just any job, either.  No, he picks the highest paying job that brand-new MBA of his could get him, no matter it fits him worse than the cheapest suit he could buy.  One thing he was right about, stockbrokering was never for Gary.  I could'a told him, but I didn't.  Guess I was just glad we were in the same firm where I could keep an eye on him, where I'd have a good chance of knowing as soon as it went sour, like I knew it would.  Where I could be there for him when he needed me, 'cause I knew he would.  Knew it just like I know my eyes are blue or my dream car's a red Lexus.

He could never fit in her world.  He's not into status and cocktail parties and being seen in the right places, or high culture and the "right" schools and the "right" clubs.  Baseball and beer, that's Gary.  He has this very simple, unassuming personality.  Washes his own shirts, for cryin' out loud.  He's not interested in fame or power or even wealth.  All he's ever really wanted was the same kind of life his folks had.  The man gets a good job, brings in a regular paycheck, puts in his forty hours and leaves work at work when he comes home; the wife keeps the house, does the civic-betterment thing, has kids; they love each other for thirty-five, forty, fifty years and are buried side by side.  (Though Bernie and Lois are a long way from being buried yet, thank God.  I wonder if he's even called them to tell them he's living in a hotel.  Probably not.  He still hopes somehow he can get back with Marcia, find out why she threw him out, make it right again.)

What is it about some women, they think they have to make a man over?  If they don't like him the way he is, why bother with him to begin with?  Why not find somebody who's already what they want?

I guess she did give him something he needed, though.  Some grounding for his life, a goal.  Gar's the kind of guy who needs that.  He figured he'd put her through, then she'd be happy, maybe she'd do some storefront work part-time or join the Public Defender's office or something, she'd have a career in case anything ever happened to him, and then they'd start a family.  Up till he met her he was just sorta coasting along.  I mean, he likes Chicago, likes the size and the pace of it, the challenge of living in a place that ain't Hickory, but...

No, the fact is, Gar's too big for Hickory.  Always was.  I knew it from the day we met.  There just wasn't enough scope for him there.  He wants to make a difference, to help.  A town like Hickory where neighbors pull together, there just wasn't enough for him to do.

You know, when he won the Rotary scholarship, I figured he'd major in something that'd lead him into one of the helping professions.  Medicine maybe, or counselling, or teaching, or the diplomatic service, or even consumer or environmental law or heading up some kind of nonprofit.  That'd fit him.  That's Gary.  A true mensch, as my Uncle Phil would say.  He wants a nice old-fashioned life, but he also wants to make others happy.  Wants to save lives, or at least help turn 'em around.  Wants to make the world a better place.

And now he's lost his anchor, lost everything that made the job worthwhile for him.  He can't believe it was all on her agenda from the very first, can't understand it wasn't anything he did or was.  His whole world's been knocked out from under him, he's got no future any more.  He's lost and adrift and dying inside, and I don't know how to help him.

All I know is he needs something to give him direction again, to help keep him from thinking too much about the way Marcia betrayed him.  Damn her.  She had to do it on their wedding anniversary, of all the days to pick.  Couldn't wait a couple weeks, oh no.  Had to throw it in his face that she'd never really cared a flyin' shit for him.  That the whole thing had been one big sham.

God, I hope I'm there to see her get her comeuppance.  And she will one day, you'll see.  Bad karma.  She's just laid herself up about a ton of it, and the divorce is gonna add more.

I wish I knew what to say to the guy.  I'm not good at this, I admit it.  Sincerity and Chuck Fishman don't go together.  If I tried he'd think I was puttin' him on.  All I can do is keep on tellin' him to face the facts and move on.

What's gonna become of him now?

I wish I knew.  And I wish I could help, I really do.  I'd give my life for him, you know.  Don't look at me that way.  I would.  If he was to be held hostage in a bank robbery or something, God forbid...

Not that he's not being held hostage right this minute, or at least his heart is.  Much as I know it's gonna hurt him, I wish to hell she'd move on to the next stage and get it over with.  At least then he'd realize it was time to listen to his best bud and start over again.

I tell you, I could kill her.

Gimme another beer, will ya?

No, on second thought, make that a Scotch.

Make it a double.

Make it a double double.

Here's to Gary Hobson, God help him.

Email the author: sevenstars39@hotmail.com
 

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