Lies That Bind

By Delinda McCann

President Jake Jaconovich is the second president elected under the new constitution of an emerging nation. He and his party are working to bring rule of law, human rights and economic stability to a country formerly run on a system of extortion, exploitation, bribes and gang warfare. Problems with rioters and terrorism are epidemic in his country extending even into his own household. Everything he says in private, every random thought or jest gets blown out of proportion and reported to the worst of the opposition press.

Celia Louise Jones-McKinsey is an ex-schoolteacher. She has become a hostage in her own home as she cares for a husband with dementia. She knows she is exhausted from taking care of others. She was a caregiver long began long before her husband became ill as she raised his son with multiple disabilities. She is beginning to think that her life of caring for others is destroying her body and soul. What Celia fails to realize is that her web site on caring for dementia patients has come to the attention of President Jake.

The story opens when President Jake makes a special stop in Victoria BC to visit Celia. After the initial awkwardness of their first meeting Jake and Celia find that they have much in common including a mutual physical attraction. When Celia is finally free for a week to visit Jakes country, he seduces her into bringing her senile husband and moving to his country by introducing her to the plight of the children orphaned by the recent economic crash. Celia leaves her home to escape her life and family and to be with Jake. When she settles into her new home she finds one hundred six children, nine puppies, a serial bomber, numerous rioters, a snitch, a slave trader, a passion for football, a plethora of helicopters and a host of characters to keep things lively.

At one point Celia asks Jake if their lives will ever be ordinary. He answers, Weve had the occasional breakfast together or dinner in our rooms that is ordinary.

And between breakfast and dinner? Celia asks.

All hell breaks loose. Jake acknowledges.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 25, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462898411

Book preview

Year One

Jake and I

When I was a little girl I never ever said, When I grow up I want to be the mistress of a world leader. It never entered my head. I intended to meet my prince charming, get married, raise two children and live happily ever after. Life pretty much met my expectations until it took a wrong turn somewhere and I ended up in bed with Jake. What happened?

I’d never met Jake in person when I walked into the Pacific Regency Hotel in downtown Victoria B.C. He was on the other end of my cell phone giving me directions as I scanned the crowded lobby for the man I came to meet in person. I listened to his voice on my phone. "Look for a man about two meters tall wearing a black suit, Mariners baseball cap and talking on a cell phone.’

There, there I see you. I stood on my tiptoes and shyly raised one hand. A surge of relief surprised me. He was huge, bulky muscular, tall and hairy. His nose sported multiple bumps suggesting he broke it more than twice. His face held more scars than mine. I didn’t feel tempted. I broke into a huge grin.

That is not me. That is Peter, my friend. I am upstairs. He will escort you up.

Look, I know we have been talking by e-mail for months but I do not like the idea of getting into an elevator with a man I do not know so that I can meet another man that I’ve only talked with by e-mail. It doesn’t seem safe. I tried to remember to talk slow and distinctly to accommodate any limits he may have with the English language.

Celia, you must get into elevators with men you do not know every time you ride in one. How is this different? You can take the stairs if you like but the elevator is faster and closer. I confess his voice and his accent were doing things to my heart rate. Part of my brain noticed that at least I was getting a cardio-vascular workout. His voice sounded deep but soft almost melodic. I thought he must sing base.

Of course, I am being silly. My mum is always cautioning me to be careful that I do not fall prey to kidnappers or terrorists. I laughed a little to cover the fact that I was nervous and embarrassed. I forget that I am not a young girl anymore. He chuckled.

Peter’s voice carried the same accent as Jake’s as he made a slight bow before me. Please Mrs. McKinsey, the elevator is waiting. He seemed nothing but gentle and courteous as he held the elevator door open for me.

In the reflective walls of the elevator I studied my warrior guide. He projected a comforting presence despite his size. I wondered what made him comforting. It may have been the combination of compassion and sadness I saw in the lines around his dark brown eyes. He stood with military bearing. I thought that he was a man to be respected. His build and scars suggested that those who didn’t respect him might learn to regret their mistake soon. The few words he spoke downstairs sounded articulate but obviously not in his native language. I suspected that he might be an educated man. The cut of his suit jacket looked less crisp than a military jacket. It fit looser more like a college professor might wear.

The same walls reveled that I looked respectable and well groomed. The cancer scar on my upper lip was well hidden with makeup. I liked the way the copper tone walls turned the gray in my hair a soft, warm brown. Most of the time I thought the hints of gray more interesting than the mousy brown of my youth. I sucked in my tummy and tried to wish away the excess stress pounds. I double-checked my turtleneck for spots. It was the only top I owned that didn’t have a grease spot.

The elevator stopped at the penthouse floor. I, of course, expected it to stop one floor lower at the tearooms. Again I felt anxious but I resolved not to embarrass myself again. I almost heard my mother telling me not to make a scene and to try to get along. One of my mum’s favorite assurances comforted me, Nobody ever looks at you anyway.

When the elevator doors opened I stepped out onto a carpet so thick, I almost tripped. This lounge was designed to convey luxury. Large, pink copper mirrors on the walls alternated with some excellent artwork. I was distracted looking for a Leighton painting I read about in a paper at the doctor’s office. Allowing my attention to be divided between admiring the artwork and checking my appearance in the mirrors was a mistake. While I was distracted Peter propelled me through a set of double doors into a room filled with men.

Oh dear . . . oh my . . . time stopped. The earth stopped spinning. The room seemed full of overly large men but the man in the middle stared at me with his mouth hanging open. He recovered and smiled. The man in the middle was, well. He looked almost like someone I saw on the cover of every magazine in the doctor’s office and all those in the grocery checkout lanes. He smiled at me. He was ten times better looking than that other guy on the magazines. Peter the warrior introduced him to me, Mrs. Celia McKinsey may I present President Jake Jaconovich. The buzzing in my ears prohibited me from hearing the full introduction. I didn’t need to hear it. I wanted to cry. Where was my friend Jake? He said something soft in his native language, and the bodyguards melted away.

Jake?

Celia? You are beautiful. This great conversational opening was soon followed by several more equally inane observations. For two intelligent and well-educated adults, we were not presenting ourselves very well. My sense of justice soon allowed me to regain my composure as far as possible under the circumstances.

You never told me that you are a president.

You told me that you were fat and had scars on your face.

But you are a president.

And you are beautiful so we are even. Popkin, I could not very well announce to everybody on the Care Givers list that I am a president. I would not get honest answers and I am afraid that I would get too much unwanted information.

But all those e-mails,

Yes that is why I wanted to see you today, to explain things to you. Please, be seated. Do you prefer coffee or tea? I felt his arm against my back as he pulled a chair out for me at a cozy tea table. I was afraid my knees might give out at that slight touch. He continued the previous thought. But you, I distinctly remember you saying you are overweight and have a cancer scar. For me to be entertaining a beautiful woman in my suite leaves me open to criticism for womanizing. One of my hands went to my tummy and the other to my upper lip. If he didn’t notice these deformities, I quickly decided not to point them out.

I prefer coffee please. He gave another command in his melodious voice and a man appeared with a coffee carafe. I tried not to stare. This man wore no coat. I could clearly see that he carried a large gun in a shoulder holster. Handguns are a rarity in my country. I tried not to stare at the gun. I could see that this guard was smaller than Peter. He looked obviously physically fit. I decided that I wanted to look at President Jake.

Thank you, I prefer cream and sugar. Everything looks lovely. I used to come here for tea with friends. The food is always excellent and frankly less expensive than the places that advertise high tea.

You say you used to come here. You do not anymore? Jake seated himself, and our server put his napkin in his lap.

Oh, I would love to get out, but the day program, where I used to leave Kevin, was discontinued due to budget cuts. Now, I need to take him with me when I leave home. He does not like to go out. I am fortunate to get away today. I sipped my coffee. It tasted excellent. One of Kevin’s friends from church came to stay with him. This is the first time one of the people who says, ‘Call me anytime’ was actually available. I knew I was babbling. I decided to shut up. I smiled at Jake. Oops, looking at him caused me to melt. I decided to eat.

I couldn’t believe how good everything tasted. I loved the cucumber sandwiches and the tarts. Please you must try the smoked salmon. It is a specialty here. It is so good that I am tempted to tell you it is foul and to eat it all myself but I will be good and share. He laughed at this simple piece of silliness. We commented on the food and architecture of the city. He told me about his recent visit with my prime minister. As we finished our meal, he leaned back in his chair and focused his attention on me.

How are you doing? Are you managing okay at home with your husband, Kyle or, Kevin isn’t it?

Yes, Kevin. He’s not well. His condition is worse than it was at this time last year. I think that at this point, Jake pulled my chair back for me and we walked to the conversation area and sat on a love seat. At least that is what I assume happened. It could be that the world resumed turning at this point and the furniture shifted under us. I think I sat properly at one end of the green velvet love seat but the spinning of the earth made me disoriented. I reached the part of my woes where I told him how frustrated I felt at the lack of understanding of others for the realities of my life. I do not get out often but that is not as bad as it sounds. When I meet people they always ask how Kevin is. If I say anything half honest their eyes glaze over and slide away from mine. These conversations usually end with a pat, trite platitude. My least favorite of these platitudes is, I changed my voice to a supercilious nasal tone. Well, dear, I am sure you’re doing fine and remember that you will receive jewels in your crown in heaven for taking such good care of dear Kevin. I returned to my normal tone of voice. Oh God, I want to scream at the platitudes. ‘I don’t want jewels in heaven! Give them to me now so I can pawn them and get enough money to hire some help around here! Jake chuckled. I felt his breath warm on my hair. When did I move so close to him? When did he put his arm along the back of the love seat?

Jake’s eyes didn’t slide away from mine. They were dilated huge. What I saw of the iris was midnight blue. What do you think needs to be done to help someone in your circumstances? What can I do to help my papa? I asked him then about his father’s situation. I asked about what ministries the churches have for visiting the elderly. I looked into his eyes. I felt his arm slide around me holding me closer. The truth is that papa is not so isolated as you are. I am the one he needs to see. I need my papa. His voice sounded thick as he said these last words. He bowed his head and I felt his lips in my hair.

I panicked. Most women might wonder what kind of foolish prudery ran through my head to break things up at this cozy moment. I can only explain it was too much, too close, and too soon. My life reached at a point where I lived in terror that my weeping meltdowns might start attacking me in front of other people. I remembered I still needed to shop for my mum’s birthday. I confess, I also remembered that my underwear was ratty. I wore the best bra and panties I owned but the lace pilled and sprouted strings. Um, Jake, I am enjoying talking to you but I cannot leave Kevin too much longer and I need to buy a birthday gift for my mother. I felt as if I was fighting my way out of a marshmallow to get my limbs to respond to my command to stand up.

May I go shopping with you? What are you going to buy?

I don’t know. I mean yes you can come with me. I smiled. I want to have your company while I shop. I have no idea what to get my mum. I think I want to get her something to wear. She buys all her clothes in second hand stores. I usually get her something new. I am not sure she appreciates new clothes. Sometimes if I get her something suitable for Christmas she will wear it on Christmas day. Jake called his guards on a small radio he carried in his pocket. They were still pulling their coats on over their shoulder holsters and guns when they joined us by the elevator. I should add that they wore shirts and pants and shoes. It was just that the guns distressed me. I wondered if they were even legal. I didn’t know if my government allowed the security for a visiting president to carry handguns.

Where are we going?

Most of the shops downtown cater to tourists. We have one decent mall. We have some decent stores outside the city now. I want to visit the mall.

What does your mum need most?

I don’t know.

What article of your mother’s clothing do you hate the most?

Her coat. My answer sounded vehement. I didn’t pause or stop to consider. Jake grinned at me. How did you do that so quickly? How did you know what question to ask?

Jake laughed, I was a prosecuting attorney for years. It is part of what I do to ask the right questions. I could have asked about your mum’s interests and tastes but I know you well enough to know that you can easily hit on the heart of an issue.

You know me?

Of course, I have been reading your blog and checking in on your website for over two years. I know how you handle questions people ask. I have witnessed your compassion for other’s problems. I recognize your passion . . . here Jake stopped and swallowed. I recognize your passion for helping others. If you buy your mum a gift that you feel passionate about, it will be right. We took two of the cars he had with him to the store. I worried about parking but our driver dropped us at our door. He would come back when we were ready to leave. I wondered about Jake talking about my passion for my vocation. I wondered if he felt the same kind of passion that turned my brain to mush.

I’d seldom shopped with a man before. This experience was different from any other shopping experience. He totally engaged in the whole experience and asked a thousand questions. Where are the clothes in this store made?

Mostly, England, Scotland and Canada. We have a few US brands.

How can you be sure the clothes are not made in factories that have human rights violations?

By reading the label. I know which companies are better than most. I cannot imagine human rights violations occurring in Scotland. It didn’t occur to me then that he’d learned something important for his country.

All these clothes have labels?

Yes sometimes they are hard to find but they must be there. We need to have information telling us how to clean the garment, what it is made of and where it is made.

What color are your mother’s eyes? This question was prompted because we stopped to look at a rack of casual coats. A clerk came to help us. I told her that I was looking for a coat for my mum. Jake asked her questions. It is late in the day. Have you been working all day?

No, I work evenings. I started my shift an hour ago.

Is it hard for you to travel after dark?

No not at all. I get on the bus when it is returning to the city after dropping off all the day commuters.

Is it safe.

Perfectly safe. The busses themselves are well lit. My neighborhood is safe and well lit. I never have any trouble. My route drivers all know me by name.

Do many people commute by bus? I tried to focus my attention on my shopping. I really wanted to watch Jake. Somehow it comforted me to see that my clerk melted under the warmth of his gaze and his attention to her. I wondered if I looked that besotted when I talked to him.

Oh look isn’t this beautiful? I found a wool dress coat in a smoky blue. I thought of it as the blue of the Olympic Mountains across the straits on a day when the sun has not quite dissolved all the mists.

That is very stylish.

I think it is perfect. It is even on sale which will make Mum even happier. I stroked the beautiful wool. I thought I heard Jake growl. I looked into his eyes and thought about biting him on the neck and stroking the fabric of his wool suit jacket, up the arms and across the shoulder. I reminded myself that he was a married man. I paid for the coat while Jake discussed exchange rates with our clerk.

Our driver returned us to the Pacific Regency. In the dark car, Jake held one of my hands in both of his and stroked the underside of my wrist with his thumb. I knew I wasn’t going to recover from his touch anytime soon.

We arrived at the hotel. I sent the valet for my car. Jake waited with me. I am so glad we got to meet and that you finally came out about your job. I suspect that at one time you may have told me that you were a civil servant.

So I am. I may be the highest-ranking civil servant in my country. I am the boss over the other civil servants, but that is what I am.

Oh don’t tease me with your lawyer technicalities. You are the president, and a very popular president if what I read is accurate.

My people love me. This is precious to me. I will do whatever I can to hold their trust. His hand rested in the center of my back as he said this. I wondered if he had any idea how I felt. Was he trying to hint that he would not consider a relationship with me because of his people? I reminded myself again that he had a perfectly lovely wife. My car arrived. He assisted me into the drivers seat. It has been wonderful meeting you. I fear my obligations will not allow us to meet again.

Yes, yes, of course, I understand. I smiled and refrained from saying Thank God, or worse, I want to have your babies. The reminder of my ovarian cancer brought me half way back to earth so I remembered the polite phrases. Thank you very much for the invitation and the tea. I needed to get out of the house and talk to someone who knows something about life with someone with Kevin’s illness. He closed my car door and waved me off.

On the drive home, I felt as if I was flying at least a meter above the pavement. I cannot say exactly what he did or how. He listened to me when I talked about something. He kept touching me in little ways. He waited with me for the valet to bring my car. He held my hand. He touched my elbow. I rationalized to myself that he was just being courteous.

I composed a new mantra on my drive home. Men from other cultures have different standards of personal space and courtesy. I decided if I repeated this often enough I might be able to stop grinning before Lent. The different cultures mantra might eventually return me to my senses, but no cure existed for what having someone listen to me did to my poor heart and soul. I blushed in the darkness when I thought about how intently he listened to my rant about the silly things people say that hurt my feelings.

I walked in the door of my home to be greeted by Kevin’s friend who was not a happy sitter. Look, I was happy to help you out this time but do not call me again. Kevin really freaked me out.

What did he do? Is he hurt? Was he inappropriate?

Nothing. My sitter headed out the door.

Please give me some hint of the problem in case he has more trouble or it is something I need to mention to the doctor.

When I was in the john, he took off all his clothes and then went outside. I had to chase him around the farm for an hour. He cut his foot. I was not able to clean it up. He didn’t talk to me. He kept touching my face with his hands.

I felt quite cheerful when I replied, Oh okay that doesn’t sound like anything serious then. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about making certain he is occupied with something before using the restroom and he suffers with feeling too warm. His illness causes him to feel too warm. My sitter ran to his car. I called my thanks after him.

My first task was to see to the cut foot. I saw Kevin tracked blood all over the house. Dearest, I’m home. I’m so happy your friend visited. It’s time for your bath now, then you can watch a movie.

Ah, um, um, bath, no, friend.

Yes, my love, a friend visited and you took him on a nice tour of the farm. I was prepared for Kevin’s minor injuries with a spray local anesthetic. You sit here and we’ll play spa. I’ll give you a pedicure. This will tickle a little.

It took me well over two hours to get Kevin bathed and his foot bandaged. Then I needed to get him into pajamas and into bed. He kept wandering away if I turned my back. I sang to him to keep his attention. He liked for me to sing. Sweetie, would you like for me to play the piano? Put your arm into the sleeve and then we will go to the sitting room and I’ll play for you. Remember, you like to hear me play the piano. Kevin always liked to sit and listen to me play. Considering how poorly I play, I always considered his enjoyment of my playing to be a sign of his love for me. Now, playing for Kevin was one of the things that calmed him. I got him into his bed for the first time that night at about one AM.

The morning after, I still felt high but I started to shake. I don’t know why but I couldn’t stop shaking. Kevin slept in fits and starts all night. Any change in his routine upset him. My being gone for four hours totally threw him off. Kevin felt too fussy to sleep and I felt too high. I finally got Kevin to sleep about four AM and I managed a light snooze for two hours. When I got up, I tried everything to regain control of my emotions. The shaking scared me. I started working on my lists of things to do. Usually, my lists calm me. I thought the shaking might interfere with my ability to write. A funny thing happened with my penmanship. It looked beautiful. Even as I wrote quickly, my usual scrawl disappeared and beautiful round clear letters flowed from my pen. I used to write like that years ago before I married Kevin and started living with his son Kyle. One of the first things I did in the morning was write Jake a perfectly proper e-mail.

To: President Jake Sir

From: Celia

Subject: tea

I enjoyed meeting you in my city. Your kind invitation meant a great deal to this shut in. I am well aware you could have spent your evening with the lieutenant governor or the provincial premier.

In the sprit of full disclosure

Celia Louise Jones-McKinsey

To: Celia Louise Jones-McKinsey

From: President Jake Sir

Subject: Gratitude

The pleasure and gratitude for our evening together are all mine. I know it was difficult for you to find someone to stay with your husband. I did not stop to see your premier or your lieutenant governor. I stopped to see you. Your perspective is enlightening because you do not follow any party rhetoric. Way too many people tell me what they think I want to hear. I am constantly pressured to support this cause or that enterprise. Internationally, I am expected to be friends with the right people and ignore the wrong people. If I try to do what is best for my own people in international relations I am condemned as a dangerous dictator. I am exhausted by the lies, dirty politics, political pressures, and posing that seem to be part of this job. You are honest and refreshing. You make me smile. Thank you for a wonderful evening. Jake

I thought this would be the end of our relationship. The next day I got another e-mail from him.

To: Celia

From: Jake

Subject: Researcher

Popkin can you give me the name and contact information for the researcher you mentioned. He was in San Francisco I think. Yours, Jake

We resumed our previous pattern of friendly e-mails. I felt thankful for his friendship and kept telling myself it was nothing more than a long distance friendship. I didn’t admit to myself that the erotic dreams I enjoyed about Jake were an indication of my own vulnerability.

Christmas

I still lied about my vulnerability when Christmas day arrived. I didn’t receive the usual Christmas letters from some of Kevin’s long time friends. I missed them. I felt hurt that they didn’t seem to realize I cared about their lives. I’d planned to spend Christmas day with my sister and parents, but Kevin refused to go out. He spent most of the day rocking and yelling. I thought this behavior the worst I ever endured with him. I worried he might continue to be like this until the end. I later suspected that he had an allergic reaction to some cookies someone from his church brought over. He ate the whole plate of them when I was in the bath. My parents stopped by in the evening to leave off their present, a large ham and the leavings of the Christmas dinner my sister cooked. They didn’t stay long. I felt thankful for both the visit and its brevity.

Also for Christmas I got a phone call from Kevin’s sister, Karen. She wanted to talk to him. Oh, Karen it’s so good to hear from you. Yes, Kevin is here but he has been particularly unwell. I suppose I can put him on the line. Don’t be hurt if he doesn’t say much. He has trouble finding the right words. Karen was impatient.

If you just let him talk to others he might have something to say. It seemed easier to let her try to talk to him. He was fairly calm right then.

She talked and he said, uh, um, um, uh. In other words he sounded quite normal to his sister.

Kevin’s parents called shortly after Karen. For Christmas they gave me a lecture on how if I were a better wife, Kevin would be well. They didn’t say it in so many words but this was just a variation on their other lecture on how if I were a better mother Kyle would not be autistic. Hello Celia, I didn’t call earlier because I assumed you were at your sister’s.

I wasn’t able to go there this year because Kevin’s having a bad day. I couldn’t get him to go out.

You should have just insisted. He needs to get out and see people. His only problem is that he just does not get out now that he is retired.

I don’t know how to insist. He is bigger than me. If he sits in his chair, I cannot pull him out and he will not obey me if I tell him to come. Today coaxing and bribing didn’t work either.

You just need to be more forceful. How is Kyle?

He is fine.

Did he spend the day with you?

No, he wanted to have dinner with his friends.

You should have made him come home to help you with Kevin. I can’t believe you left him in that home on Christmas day. I wouldn’t be surprised if Kevin refused to go out because you didn’t include his son. I wanted to cry by this time. Kyle wanted to spend the day with his friends, and I needed to get permission from his probation officer to take him out of the home anyway. I admit I was not eager to take him to my sister’s where he could ruin yet another Christmas for my family. I reached outside the front door and pushed the bell. The doorbell chimed and Kevin began to yell.

Oops someone is here. I have to run. I have no idea why I didn’t tell those people to take their Christmas pudding and shove it up their . . ., but that was how I was then.

This was the time of year that I most missed the friends who drifted away. I missed the Christmas parties and concerts. I missed singing the familiar carols with my church choir. It was hard for me to keep up relationships when I couldn’t get anyone to stay with Kevin and he didn’t like going out. Some of my friends encouraged me to leave him. Many women in my position do leave their husbands. I knew his behavior was unacceptable. I also knew he was sick. He stayed with me when I was sick. He stayed with me when I had ovarian cancer that left me unable to give him more children. He stayed when I had thyroid cancer that made me so tired I wasn’t much of a wife to him. I just didn’t want to leave him when he was sick. His behavior hurt me deeply. Those who urged me to leave my husband hurt me more than his behavior. These thoughts, feelings, and memories came crashing down around me that Christmas day.

Before I crawled into bed on Christmas night, I checked my e-mail one last time. I found one line from Jake. Popkin, Remember Love, Hope, and Peace were born on Christmas day. I guess I still believed in God’s love even after the hellish day I just endured. I didn’t cry. At least, it didn’t feel like I cried. I didn’t sob. A flood of tears ran down my face and soaked my shirt. I just sat there with my fingers touching my computer screen wanting love, hope and peace to be real. That was Jake. Did he know how I felt? Did he just pass on a platitude? Was it that the power of his personality together with his political power made everything he said more meaningful? I felt dead certain this time my response to his words had nothing to do with lust. I felt so tired and depressed, I forgot even lust for Jake for the first time since I saw him staring at me.

A New Year

After Christmas I became more worried about my own health than about Kevin’s. I’m often depressed in January. The previous January was bad enough, but I still had some friends who called me and asked me to lunch. I could still leave Kevin once a week at the adult day care. Sometimes I took him with me to the store or for a walk in the park. Now, I was a hostage in my own home. Keeping enough food in the house became a challenge because I couldn’t get Kevin to go out. I couldn’t leave him alone and I couldn’t find anyone reliable to come stay with him. We ate some very strange food combinations. I feared the stress might trigger more cancer.

The depression I anticipated didn’t arrive. What did arrive by FedEx late in the day on New Years Eve was a small package, for me. I opened it up and found a cell phone. It appeared to have been activated and I had a message. Popkin, In my cnty we giv gift on 1/1. speed dial 1. After several minutes trying to figure out speed dial, I finally managed. A very long list of numbers appeared briefly on the screen. A phone rang on the other end. He answered, Popkin?

Jake? Jake what on earth? I think my toes curled at the sound of his voice.

Hi, I just wanted to hear your voice. Now I have you on speed dial. I can call you anytime and ask you why I should not nuke the southern provinces or annihilate the Opposition Party. Don’t ever tell anyone I said that! Every word I say, every random thought or jest gets picked up and blown out of proportion. I couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say. I just wanted to hear his voice.

I won’t tell your secrets. What is with the phone? How does this work? I really wanted to know how much this was going to cost and how to pay for it.

I needed to hear your voice so I got us a phone account. We can talk to each other and text all for a basic rate because both phones are on the same account. I think this is a bit of rebellion. I need to talk to someone occasionally who won’t tell the press everything I say. I need a normal conversation about the weather or anything.

I noticed the softness and warmth in my voice when I answered him. Sometimes the world is crazy. I will be happy to talk to you about normal things. I should warn you I might not know what normal is. I raised a stepson with autism and fetal alcohol syndrome. I am married to a man with dementia. I have not seen anything normal since before I married Kevin when I was twenty-four.

His voice sounded like liquid chocolate when he asked, How are you? Is Kevin doing any better? I didn’t want to think about Kevin when I could talk to Jake.

I think that I am just fine. Right now I cannot think of a time when someone has done something this nice for me. The phones must be expensive but I refuse to complain. You gave me the thing I need most, to hear a human voice and contact with the outer world. I will be happy to advise you on the pros and cons of nuking your southern provinces. How would you go about this? Would you use bombs, missiles or a land based method?

Oh Popkin, this is exactly why I need to talk to you. You make me laugh. Jake was laughing. His laughter is a wonderful sound. This may turn out to be one of my best ideas ever.

This is a wonderful gift for me. I get so isolated. Thank you. Again I heard the softness in my voice. I had no control over how my voice caressed Jake. I knew the rest of me wanted to caress him too. I realized the sound of his voice even when he talked about nuking the southern provinces boosted my heart rate.

I must go. We have parties all day here. I had parties with staff yesterday. This morning I will celebrate Christmas with my family then we eat a big feast with Vice President Anatole’s family and about thirty other people.

Thank you again and again for this gift. It means a great deal to me to have a friend just now.

You have a friend who knows something about being isolated. It is your husband’s illness that causes you to be isolated. My career, my position causes me to be isolated. We both need friends. Have a nice evening my dear. His voice sounded rich and husky as he told me to have a nice evening.

I think my voice sounded shy when I said, Have a wonderful celebration. He hung up. I danced around my house. I danced. I made up a little song to go with my dance. Someone called me, my dear. Someone wants to be my friend, a friend, a friend. I have a friend who called me my dear. I knew I was acting silly but I didn’t care. Kevin was the only person who might see me and he slept in his chair.

I eventually came off of my high and wondered if I was insane to be encouraging this man. I did a reality check. Jake lived half a world away from me. I was tied to my house with Kevin.

Kevin retained no sense about safety. His impulsiveness held me completely under his control because he might do anything and my job was to keep him safe and well fed and clean. Talking on the phone to a friend was the only normal behavior in my life. I remembered how my body responded to Jake’s voice. I blushed thinking about my satisfying dreams at night. I remembered his wife. He is half a world away. He said himself he couldn’t see me again. My reaction to him is all my own fantasies. I need some escape even if it is a fantasy. How can I care for Kevin if I crash?

I still tried to be a proper person, a faithful wife. I threw myself into a self-directed course of study. My topic was Jake’s country, of course. I started on the inter-net while waiting for my books to come from the library. I was always a good student. Learning is one of the things I do well. Just for good measure I thought I’d learn his language too.

To: Jake

From: Celia

Subject: History

I was reading about your country. I have trouble understanding how there can be resentment between the north and the south after almost four hundred years of being united.

To: Popkin

From: Jake

Subject: History

It was wonderful to have your voice be the first voice I heard this morning. I hope you do not mind too much that I woke you up.

It must seem strange to you that my people cannot get along with each other after 378 years. These have not been years of equality. We have had many changes of government but the conditions are always the same. In the north the people have the natural resources. The people do the mining or working in the woods. They fish. They have never been able to keep the profits of their labor. Ever since the south first conquered the north before we were colonized the northern people lived in poverty. They should be well off. The north is rich in resources but ownership has been by outsiders for years and years. The conquering southerners look down on the poverty they have created and ridicule the north. In truth, I think they are afraid that if the northerners can be free from oppression they will rule the whole nation and the south may suffer.

My position is difficult because our current constitution does extend equal rights to the north. My family is from the north. My father was a laborer. I am the personification of what can happen if the north has rights. I have just finished nationalizing a factory because of human rights violations. They had children as young as five or six working in this factory. I am making the nationalized factory a model for modern business. I pay a livable wage. I have forty-hour workweeks. I installed toilets on the premises. The resentment has good basis in the north. I am creating in this one factory the conditions that are common in your country. The southern people are afraid with reason. I will not tolerate human rights violations. Perhaps they think I will treat them as they have treated the people from the North. I will not. I hope by the end of my term to see healing and mutual respect take root in my country.

To: Jake

From: Celia

Subject: History

Thank you for your long answer. You made unfamiliar material come alive for me. You do know that I pray for you and your people daily. You may not see the changes in your lifetime, but perhaps by sowing seeds of equality and respect, the changes will come.

To: My Popkin

From: Jake

Subject History

Popkin, I thank you for your prayers. They are much needed and appreciated. I wondered if I bored you with my long answer. I realized that I said more than you asked for.

Since you were not bored I will try again. The seeds of justice were sown by the wise men who had the courage to write our new constitution. My job is more to nourish those ideals by enforcing the concept of rule of law. My country has long lived by a combination of bribes, oppression, extortion, organized crime and outright gang warfare. We have a good foundation in our constitution now. It is vital that we start enforcing it through our court system. Do not let me bore you. I am passionate on this subject.

To: Jake

From: Celia

Subject Rest

You sounded terribly ill on the phone this morning. I hope you are getting proper rest. Tell everybody that you do not want to spread your flu and go to bed. You can pretend that you are going to read reports in your room. I confess I find your politics alien. We are really rather boring here. I am of the opinion that often it is good to be bored. I like boring politics, boring airplane flights, boring ferry rides, and . . . well . . . ever since Kevin has been sick boring sounds good compared to chasing him around the farm. He has not tried to take the car out for eight weeks now.

I didn’t tell Jake about trying to learn his language. I got books and CD’s from my library. Because of my husband’s disability, the local library delivered books, magazines and movies on Thursdays. Oh blessed golden Thursdays when I got new books and movies. The movies were for Kevin. There is much that is wrong with television and to a lesser extent the entertainment industry in general but I am totally thankful for something that kept Kevin entertained for several hours per day. Had it not been for the television, I could not have kept Kevin at home alone with me as long as I did.

To: Jake

From: Celia

Subject: Leah

Jake I hope you do not think I am out of place for bringing this up but you are a married man. I also am married but my husband is sick. Your wife is well. In my studies I came across articles about her. She seems to love her husband and is certainly proud of you. There were tons of pictures of her at state receptions and dinners, pictures of her redecorating the executive suite. She seems to be everywhere with everybody. She looked very chic posed with Elizabeth II. In her conversations with the US first lady she was praised as being the more elegant and informed. In Greece she climbed some hill or mountain or something. In France she dined out. In China she visited the Great Wall, of course. In Switzerland, she skied. You have a lovely vibrant wife. Why do you feel that you need to call me?

To: Jake

From: Celia

Subject: I’m sorry

It is three AM. I cannot sleep. I thought about calling you knowing that you will be up. I am a coward so I decided to e-mail. Did I offend you with my last e-mail? I am so sorry if you feel I was being too personal. I did not mean to intrude on your personal life. I read things and I was curious. Please forgive me if my ignorance caused me to say something you found offensive.

To: Popkin

From: Jake

Subject: Leah

"Popkin, Forgive me for being silent so long. No, you have not offended me as you seem to think in your last e-mail. You do have the right to ask. I did not know the answer. As usual you identified the heart of the matter precisely. As soon as I got your e-mail I e-mailed Leah. I could not reach her by phone. I asked her how she is. I have not heard back. I am at home, actually in my own home. Leah is in Italy, Tuscany to be exact. I can only assume she is having a good time. When she was in London, I was in Uganda. We did go to the US together and I enjoyed her company while I dressed for dinner. That was the only time we were alone together. She went to Greece to recover from pneumonia and I stayed home to drive through an important piece of legislation. Paris? She is there often to shop. When she was in China, I was in Bosnia. Was she in Switzerland? I had to look that up. I believe she went there with friends who live in Germany. I thought she was in Germany.

She was busy being the first lady. The articles you read may have been old or news may travel more slowly than we think. She seems to have lost interest in the job of being the first lady. I seldom see her. She is busy with her friends. I am busy being the president. Our roles and my job have completely devoured our lives. I confess to you that she does not agree with my political views. I must try harder to reestablish our relationship."

I remember the first time I tried to speak to him in his language. I felt unsure of my accent since I had no teacher to correct what I might be hearing wrong from my CD’s. I was so excited to try out my new knowledge. My whole conversation was, Hello, I am here. How are you? I am fine. The phone rang I picked it up and repeated my three sentences. There was dead silence on the other end. I tried again in my language? Hello? Are you there?

Yes,

Are you okay? I waited while he blew his nose.

Popkin, that is about the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.

What? Learn a few lines in a foreign language? How was my accent? Did I make sense or did I just tell you to kiss a frog?

Popkin, the word for kiss is

Oh, um, Jaaaaaake. I can’t be thinking about kissing.

Why not? I like to think about kissing. Kissing is very nice.

I can’t think about kissing because I am not doing any kissing.

I do not understand. It is okay to kiss but not okay to think about it? What about if you are kissing, can you think about it then?

If I think about kissing then I will stay awake all night wanting to be kissed. I giggled and my heart raced. I knew I was not even pretending to be proper.

My poor Popkin needs a man to kiss her and I am half way around the world. Are you sure there is nobody there to kiss you? Jake’s tone was almost wary as he said this. I wondered if he would be jealous if I said yes. I was honest instead.

There is nobody here. I never go out without Kevin. As for Kevin, he rarely lets me kiss him as if he was a child. It has been years since he wanted to kiss like a man. It is strange. He is my husband but he is so needy and so childlike that it just seems wrong to kiss him as a man. It might upset him.

I am thankful you shared this. I will be more sensitive to my papa. He loved mama very much, still does. I wonder if he is still able to share affection with her? Our conversation turned sad as we discussed his parents.

After I got off of the phone, I thought I must be pathetic to get so excited about Jake saying the word kiss. The way he said that word would make any woman melt. As a matter of fact according to one magazine I read about ten million other women would give anything, especially their virtue, to be having this conversation with him so maybe I wasn’t pathetic just average.

About ten days after my first attempt to talk to Jake in his own language, I got another FedEx package. It came from his foreign relations department. This package contained several books and CD’s to help me learn the two main dialects of his language. How is it that in some languages the same phrase that one uses to order fish in a restaurant on the north coast becomes a request to get pregnant when spoken in the southwest?

Sudden Change

I felt somewhat taken back by how overwhelmed Jake acted by my doing something so simple as learning a few words in his language. I eventually learned something about him that I didn’t know then. He always does things for others. He takes care of others. If someone did something nice for him, he assumed that meant they wanted something from him. I didn’t understand this right away. My total cluelessness as to how he might interpret my efforts to do something nice for him contributed to our first real argument. Actually, he thought I broke off our relationship.

About the middle of February, I started thinking about what I could do for him for his birthday that might be special but discrete. Good grief, we talked on the phone daily, e-mailed eight to ten times a week and constantly text messaged our one word, yes, that meant, I am thinking of you. I began to think discretion necessary despite the distance between us. He sent me two expensive gifts, the phone and the books. I wanted something nice, special, and discrete.

He sounded tired when he called. How is my Popkin today? Did you get any rest?

I got something better. In the evening Kevin went out and got in the car. I took the opportunity to go to the grocery store. He didn’t want to get out of the car so I left him in the parking lot. I bought food!

Congratulations, when was the last time you got out?

When I met you.

Good God my dearest, you must get out!

I can’t. What about you? What do you do when you go out? I thought maybe tickets to a game or concert would be acceptable.

I do get out, but it is usually business.

What do you like to do? Does your city have a hockey team?

We have football.

Are they playing games this time of year?

No, even when they are playing they do not win. They just play at it. We don’t attract the best players. The best players can make more money playing for other countries so they leave. Jake sounded discouraged.

What about concerts. Do you like the symphony?

I have a friend who plays in our symphony. They are very good. I have not been to the symphony since I was elected.

What about the opera? Do you like the opera? Does your city even have an opera?

Popkin, why all the questions? What do you want?

I don’t want anything.

Everybody wants something.

Well, then I want to know more about you and what you do for recreation. What do you want?

Don’t turn my words around on me. What do you want? He sounded genuinely cross.

Jake, I think you are feeling tired and cross. This conversation is going nowhere. I know you feel stressed. I know your job is almost impossible. So is mine. I’ll talk to you when you are not so grumpy. He hung up before I did. I thought he was angry with me for calling him cross and grumpy.

After he hung up, I threw my phone down on the bed just as a loud crash came from the sitting room. I ran to the sitting room to find Kevin on the floor with an overturned chair and footstool nearby and a broken light bulb beside him. He seemed covered in blood. I called for help on the house phone. I was totally unaware that Jake was trying to reach me on my cell phone in the bedroom. I didn’t answer.

The medics came promptly, thank God. Kevin got up off of the floor and wandered around bleeding on everything. Evidently he tried to change a burned out light bulb by stacking a footstool on a dining chair and climbing on top. I left him alone while I went to let the medics in through our gate. Catching Kevin proved to be a challenge. He was hurt. Strangers were in the house. He suddenly started saying home, home as he evaded us. I have no idea where he thought he was or where home was or if he wanted us to leave his home. The medics agreed to transport him if I rode in the ambulance with him. I grabbed my purse, my coat and the cell phone before I left.

About forty-five minutes after I hung up with Jake, the phone rang in my pocket. I answered. Popkin, I am sorry. I was an ass. I was so afraid when you refused to answer my calls. What a beautiful, beautiful greeting.

Have you been trying to call me?

Yes, I have been frantic. I thought you were never going to speak to me again.

I am sorry I did not hear my phone. Kevin had an accident. I am taking him to the emergency room. Actually, we are in an ambulance. This is one of those situations that one should never have to live through. My husband was hurt, sedated and bleeding in the ambulance. A couple medics sat nearby listening and my lover was on the phone frantic. I explained about the chair, the stool, and the blood and the wonders of whatever sedative Kevin was given. The tears flooded my face again. Thankfully the medics assumed the tears were for my husband and not because my lover on the phone wasn’t being cross with me. I was upset about Kevin too. I talked to Jake and stroked Kevin’s hair and face.

Is he seriously hurt?

No he acted quite lively until the medics gave him a sedative. He has a few cuts and possibly a broken arm. I expect him to be released tonight.

Popkin, keep me posted on how you are doing. I will let you go take care of Kevin now.

In my head I called Jake my lover but so far all lovemaking only happened in my head. As far as I knew, that was the only place anything was going to happen ever. On the other side of the world Jake resolved that things had to happen somewhere somehow.

By the time I reached the emergency room, I felt much more calm. Everything was okay with Jake, and Kevin was getting help. They took Kevin into x-ray, and I sat down to wait in a particularly uncomfortable ugly brown chair. I wondered why hospitals always paint the walls ugly pastel colors, especially the green of the wall facing me. I saw Jake staring up at me from a magazine on the table by my chair. I started feeling guilty. If I had not been on the phone with Jake, Kevin would not have gotten hurt. I really started getting into this guilt thing when a social worker came to talk to me. "How do you manage at home?

Fine

Who helps you?

What do you mean? I became aware that I was talking to a social worker and I had a picture of my imaginary lover in my lap. I traced his lips and eyes with my finger. I realized I bordered on total hysteria when I got the wild urge to show her Jake’s picture and tell her all about him. Locking me up for hysterical elder abuse might be justified and didn’t sound too bad. I might even deserve it.

I set the magazine aside. I grew increasingly disgusted with myself. My foolish obsession with someone else’s husband caused my own husband to get hurt. Jake had a beautiful wife. If I had watched as I should, my husband would not be hurt. I focused on the social worker. Listen, Kevin’s okay. This accident was all my fault. I was on the phone with a friend. I wasn’t watching him.

You should be able to talk on the phone.

Well, yes, I know that, but I wasn’t watching him. I should remember to watch him while I’m on the phone. This was not really his fault. He tried to be good. He tried to change a light bulb. I knew the bulb was burned out, and I knew he always obsessed about burned out bulbs. It was always his chore to replace our light bulbs. I should have changed the bulb yesterday when I saw it was out. I know these little things bother him, and it’s not his fault that he doesn’t have the judgment to change a light bulb properly. The social worker stopped trying to say anything. She just looked at me as I talked. I tried harder to make her understand that Kevin was okay, and I was guilty this time. Really I should have been watching him. When I’m watching him properly he doesn’t have accidents. I’m usually more careful with him. I keep the doors locked in the house. When he would still try to cook, I kept all my sharp knives locked in the trunk of my car. I still keep all the sharp scissors in the trunk of the car. I keep the bigger knives in there too. Those are all the sharp objects we own. I keep the tools that can hurt him locked in a trunk in the barn. I’m usually very careful, but I wasn’t even looking at him when I was on the phone. The social worker excused herself and got up and walked away. I went looking for more toilet tissue to blow my nose and wipe at my tears.

Somewhere around one in the morning the doctors told me they needed to admit Kevin because they couldn’t cast his