Nothing in Common but Life: 5 Short Stories

By Richard Haddock

Nathan - leaves a job he loves to nurse his wife through her final stage of cancer. Lured back to work several years later, he becomes an unwitting participant in a major procurement scam. Meanwhile he encounters the woman he had an affair with years ago who has haunted his dreams. Will he renew their relationship and revive the passion of his youth, or will he go to jail?

Annie - devastated by her divorce, she retreats into a shell of embarrassment, anger and guilt. Grudgingly stepping back into the real world, she meets a suave, debonair man who sweeps her off her feet. When her exs affair ends he appeals to Annie for forgiveness. Annies sympathy for him creates a dilemma between old feelings and her new lover. Which man will she choose?

Cody - hopes for college end when he is forced to run the family farm after his parents untimely deaths. He falls in love, but is rejected. Humiliated, he joins the Army and serves two combat tours in Afghanistan. He returns home to Texas, starts college, and meets a rich coed. They fall in love and she gets pregnant. What happens next reinforces Codys view of life as bitterly unfair.

Carol - the African American Lt. Colonel prosecutes sexual harassment cases in the Air Force. Working a case against a popular officer, she uncovers his seamy underside and his political connections in Washington. She is drugged by associates of the accused and posed for lewd pictures. The accused expects the case to be dropped and that Carol submit to his sexual demands using the pictures as blackmail. Carol agonizes over giving in to the man and saving her career or defying him and ruining her life.

Bernie - the night watchman finds three million dollars in cash in a duffel bag. He learns from a police friend that a local gang has had their drug money stolen. Bernie cautiously begins to spend the money and the cop, suspicious, threatens to expose Bernie unless he gets a share of the cash. How can Bernie keep his discovery a secret and use the money to give his family a better life? And what should he do about the cop who can ruin it all?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jan 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9781532038686

Richard Haddock

Dr. Haddock is retired and lives with his wife, Marilyn, in Northern Virginia.

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Copyright © 2018 Richard Haddock

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-3867-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-3868-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017918922

iUniverse rev. date:   12/28/2017

"Got to pay your dues if you want to sing the blues

And you know, it don’t come easy."

George Harrison

The universe is under no obligation to make sense to you.

Neil deGrasse Tyson

If I am not for myself, who will be for me? If I am only for myself, what am I?

Rabbi Hillel

There are those who’ll bet love comes but once, and yet I’m oh, so very glad we met the second time around.

Sammy Cahn & James Van Heusen

Be yourself. Everyone else is taken.

Oscar Wilde

For the Haddock clan:

Marilyn

Christopher

Tiffany

Heather

Logan

Ryan

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Sam

Nathan

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Annie

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Cody

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Carol

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Bernie

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Nathan

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1

N ATHAN WILLIAMS SAT AT HIS desk, gazing out at the dark waters of New York harbor. This was his favorite time of day, when the cacophony of the city was still several hours away. The orange lights from the Staten Island ferry moved slowly toward the dock at the tip of Manhattan Island below him. To his left, far out in the Atlantic, the sun peeked over the horizon. To his right the Statue of Liberty seemed to squint into the slice of sunlight that began to cross her bronze face.

Nathan left his job here at Universal Systems four years ago when his wife Mildred was diagnosed with cancer. It had been an agonizing decision because Nathan thoroughly enjoyed his job, but Mildred would need full time attention and he was not about to abandon her to strangers. Caring for her was his responsibility. She died a year later, leaving Nathan, then age sixty-six, alone for the first time in his adult life.

When the shock finally set in Nathan was overwhelmed by the loneliness, unable to comprehend a future life without his beloved Mildred. But sitting around the empty house with all its memories and reminders of their wonderful marriage soon became too much for him and he was lured back to Universal with this consulting job. As a consultant, he kept his own hours and enjoyed working alongside some of his old colleagues again. But mostly, consulting created a focus, a distraction, a way to fill the painful void that had filled each day since Mildred’s passing.

This assignment involved serving as head of a Red Team, the group of independent evaluators who reviewed proposals in their draft form, recommending changes and improvements before they were submitted to the prospective client; in this case, the DoD. Despite years of crafting proposals, mistakes, oversights and other serious flaws were still being made. Nathan could spot the problems just thumbing quickly through the document. The LCS (Logistical Control System) proposal he had just reviewed was no different.

The knock on the office door shook Nathan from his ruminations. It’s open, he said, turning to face whomever his visitor was at six o’clock in the morning.

Roger McGuire, the LCS proposal manager, stuck his head into the office. Roger was mid-thirties, always immaculately dressed and coiffed, with an attitude of confidence bordering on arrogance and the personality of a used car salesman in heat. Having the old man as the head of his proposal Red Team had not been well received as Roger chafed at any criticism of his work, and he knew that Nathan was a stickler for details. You got a minute? he asked, pushing the door wide open and stepping into the office.

Sure, Nathan said, waving toward the single guest chair. What’s on your mind?

Roger closed the door, unbuttoned his jacket and theatrically flipped the straight back chair around and straddled it like a horse. He cleared his throat, a serious look crossing his suntanned face. I was out of town for the Red Team debrief but my proposal team tells me that you guys had some serious problems with the introduction, he ventured, looking at Nathan with genuine wide-eyed amazement. What the fuck, Nathan? The introduction tells our story beautifully. I wrote it myself and think it’s pretty damned good.

Nathan nodded his head in understanding. He had plowed these fields many times before. I wasn’t here for the early days of the proposal development, he started patiently, but I suspect that you all spent a lot of time and hard work creating your themes, your discriminators, and some clever graphics that told your story.

Damned right, Roger said. And I think we did a great job telling that story.

Oh, it’s a great story, Roger. I’ll give you that. Crisp, articulate, clever even, and the graphics are first rate.

A look of confusion crossed Roger’s face. So, what’s the problem?

The problem, Nathan started, is that the team was so focused on telling ‘your story’ that they read right past the requirements in the RFP. Your proposal failed to address even half of those requirements and, in some instances even refuted them. By ignoring what the client had spelled out as important we’ll lose a great deal of evaluation points and, he added, raising his index finger for emphasis, the added problem you created is that the remainder of your proposal follows the threads of the introduction in lock step, expanding ‘your story’ in detail. Without some significant revisions, we’ll never make the technical cut.

Jesus! Roger said, standing and pushing his chair away. The tech’ eval’ doesn’t mean shit, Nathan. This job will come down to low price and that’s where my focus is right now. The rest of this Red Team feedback is just bullshit. He moved towards the door.

Roger, this isn’t just my opinion; the whole Red Team agrees. This is a serious problem and must be fixed.

Roger grabbed the doorknob and yanked the door open. The only thing that needs to be fixed is our Red Team chairman, he said. And I’m going to go get that taken care of this morning. He slammed the door behind him and stormed off down the hall.

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The call came sooner than Nathan expected. Just two hours later Kevin Baldwin’s office was on the line. Kevin was the vice-president of the division responsible for the LCS proposal. Do you remember where Luther’s is? Kevin’s secretary asked.

Yes, Nathan replied, recalling the popular restaurant where after-work get-togethers were often held.

Kevin would like to meet you there for dinner tonight if you’re available, came the friendly invitation.

Nathan hesitated, quickly reviewing his calendar in his mind. Certainly nothing to rival a free dinner and drinks with an old friend. Yes, I believe I’m available, Nathan answered.

Fine. Kevin said he would meet you there at seven o’clock if that was convenient.

Yes, that would be fine, Nathan said. Please thank Kevin for the invitation.

I certainly will, and Nathan, it’s good to have you back, if only temporarily, the secretary added.

Thank you, Nancy, it’s good to be back. He paused, then said, Say, if Kevin can spare you for an hour we’ll have to get together over lunch one day soon and catch up. Nancy was rumor central and could provide him with a complete rundown of all the relevant gossip. Plus, she was not unpleasant to look at.

Well, I will certainly look forward to that, Nathan. Whenever your schedule permits. Meanwhile, have a good dinner tonight.

Thanks, Nancy, he said, hanging up the phone and standing to stretch. Joints popped and muscles rebelled. He inched close to the window and studied his reflection. He seemed much smaller than his six foot frame. Due to several years of a widower’s diet, he was down to a hundred and sixty pounds, far below his playing weight. His brown eyes looked sunken and tired, there were several new wrinkles on his face and a sag of skin hung beneath his chin. There was a bit more gray in what remained of his hair. To add to his visible signs of aging, it seemed that every part of his body hurt; his lower back, legs, shoulders, even his teeth. He silently promised himself he would get back to his old exercise routine: stretching, jogging, lifting weights, but he knew that promise, like many New Year’s resolutions, would quickly fade. What would he be getting in shape for? For whom?

Nathan took a deep breath and exhaled, moved slowly back to his desk and slumped into his chair. Despite some administrative clean up tasks, there was nothing much to do until dinner tonight but sit back and watch the world go by. Well, he owed it to the other members of the Red Team to let them know of Roger’s reaction and the possible implications. He would pay them all a visit when they started arriving this morning. Then perhaps he would get outside, take a long walk and enjoy the sunshine and fresh air. Even with that pleasant interlude, it would still be a long day.

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2

L UTHER’S WAS AN UPSCALE RESTAURANT located a few blocks from Wall Street, a hangout for the movers and shakers of the financial district. Its circular bar was festooned with an arrangement of H.D. televisions, each tuned to a different sporting event or talk show, the crowd of well-dressed men and women, boisterous, laughing, greeting one another with the semi-hug/handshake that had become the method of welcome. Nathan had spent his share of time here, back in the day when sharing a drink with old colleagues or friends had marked the transition from the work day to the ride home, allowing the horrendous New York traffic to subside. He spotted Kevin, waving from the far side of the room, waved back and started working his way through the throng around the bar.

Kevin was an old friend, he and Nathan having worked together on several projects over the years. Their careers diverged when they were in their late thirties, Kevin pursuing the management path while Nathan remained on the technical side of the company. They had a mutual respect for each other and their areas of specialization. And now, Kevin had risen to the ranks of executive management, one of the top spots in the company.

Nathan, how are you? Kevin asked as he shook his friend’s hand vigorously.

Just fine, Kevin. You look well.

Well, looks can be deceiving, Kevin said with a laugh. Let’s strap on the old feed bag and catch up, he said, nodding towards the matre’ di at the entrance to the restaurant area.

They were seated at a corner table with a view of the Brooklyn Bridge, its twinkling lights flickering on as the sun set. They ordered drinks and studied one another. How are you getting along? Kevin asked.

Nathan sighed. Well, even after all this time I’m still grieving, of course, but this consulting job has pulled me out of my rut, given me something to look forward to each day.

Kevin shook his head. I can only imagine your loneliness. Mildred was a force; a terrific person.

They both sat in silence as their drinks arrived. Kevin raised his glass in a toast, Life goes on, he said.

Nathan clinked glasses with his old friend. Yes, it does, he said, taking a sip of the Grey Goose and tonic. Now tell me what’s been going on since I left.

Kevin edged forward in his seat, seemingly anxious to replay recent events for his old friend. He plowed through the highlights of various contracts, commented on clients and the disposition of mutual friends (retired in Florida or deceased), internal reorganizations and the future of the company. They ordered their dinners and another drink and Kevin continued his meandering tale, told with humor in his own inimitable style. It was like being back in the old days, with its mixture of excitement and angst.

Their second drinks arrived, followed closely by their dinners. Each sampled their orders and nodded to the waiter, then Nathan said, So, old friend, let’s get to why we’re really here tonight. Let’s talk about the LCS proposal.

Kevin nodded. Yes, as you might have imagined, I heard from our proposal manager.

Roger McGuire.

Yes, and I also read your Red Team debrief.

And?

Well, I agree with your analysis one hundred percent, but I also agree with Roger that this procurement will be decided on price.

Our price won’t mean anything if we don’t pass the technical evaluation. You know that, Kevin.

Yes, of course I do, and I also know that leaving Roger and his proposal team free to make whatever changes he feels are appropriate will endanger our chances of passing that evaluation.

Finally, Nathan thought. Validation. Well, what are you going to do?

Kevin took a deep breath and exhaled. That depends on you.

How so?

I was hoping you and the Red Team would stay on and make the appropriate technical changes to our proposal. I’m going to leave Roger in charge of pricing, but we absolutely must make the short list of technical qualifiers first. Before Nathan could speak, Kevin went on, When the government has evaluated our proposal and sent us questions, I would like you and your Red Team to answer them for us. Kevin held up a hand and continued, "And, I’d like you to draft and give our oral presentation."

The table was quiet as Nathan absorbed Kevin’s request. This was far more of a commitment than he had anticipated.

Look, Kevin said, chewing on his steak, I know Roger and what he will and will not do, but I also know and trust you to do the right thing. This is a critical procurement for the company, Nathan. It’s got a lot of visibility from corporate and we’re all under a lot of pressure to win this job. It’s a mandatory win if we’re going to meet our numbers.

Well, Kevin, I’m flattered, of course, and I’d be lying if I told you I had other commitments, but I’d like some time to think this over.

Of course, but time is rather critical here.

Nathan took a long pull on his drink. How about I let you know tomorrow? If I agree, he started, I wouldn’t be doing it for the company, I’d be doing it for you.

I would never rely on our friendship to take advantage of you, Nathan. He studied his old friend. How about some coffee and dessert?

The cheesecakes and cappuccinos were quickly devoured and Kevin ordered cognac. As they sipped their Remy Martin Kevin said, I know you soured on your career once you got moved into project management, away from the tech’ side of things.

Nathan nodded.

I guess I can never duplicate that transition in my own mind, having never been a real techie, but I can sure appreciate your unhappiness with being forced into management, Kevin offered.

Wrestling with the bottom line concept of capitalism, are you? Nathan offered with a smile.

Yeah, Kevin said with a sigh, but it’s more than that.

Nathan waited.

I look at guys like you, guys who were perfectly happy being on the technical side of things, then moved into project management because we had so few guys who were capable to do those jobs. Kevin sipped his cognac and looked out towards the East River. He turned back towards his old colleague and said, You were never trained to be a manager, never taught the right way to do things. He smiled. At a minimum you needed a mentor, someone to teach you the ropes.

I always pictured you as my mentor, Kevin. Oh, not officially, of course, but I learned from you, saw how you handled different situations, how you went about making decisions. You always took the time to explain why. I admired that about you, tried to run my projects the same way.

Well, Kevin said, you’re kind to say all that, but somehow the business has left a bad taste in my mouth. I can’t exactly explain it, but I can see retirement right around the corner and I don’t have a feeling of fulfillment.

Nathan nodded, having felt exactly the same way himself. It’s always hard to admit that a lot of your life’s work has been less than fulfilling, that you didn’t make a recognizable contribution, at least in your own mind. He paused and chose his words carefully. I hadn’t truly come to that epiphany until after I left, but I’m comfortable now with what I had done and not done with my career. How, in the grand perspective of life, so little of that mattered now.

I hope, Kevin started, that this new assignment, should you choose to accept it, will change your perspective, old friend. Maybe not, but it will be a welcome change for me to work with someone I respect.

Nathan felt a lump in his throat. It was so unusual for someone in this business to give praise. Compliments are accepted, no matter what the source, Nathan said with a smile and the two old friends enjoyed a heartfelt laugh.

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3

T HE SETTING SUN WAS JUST visible to the west, backlighting the Jersey skyline along the Hudson with a brilliant glow of orange and purple. Nathan sat at his desk staring at the words on his computer screen without really seeing them. The words were his most recent draft of the LCS proposal executive summary he had agreed to rewrite for his old friend, Kevin Baldwin.

Nathan had taken on this assignment reluctantly, violating the unwritten rule that Red Team members should not become involved with rewriting the proposal based on their own analysis. Nonetheless, this crossing of the lines was done frequently, particularly when Red Team members were consultants like Nathan. Proposal members were normally full time employees who had other duties and welcomed the assistance.

But Nathan had not agreed to the assignment merely as a favor to an old friend. He had enjoyed the Red Team experience, not for its technical challenge, but as a task he could focus on, removing himself from the boring daily rut he had fallen into since Mildred had passed away.

Mildred had been more than a wife, companion, lover and confidant. Without children the two had focused their attention on one another. They enjoyed their time together, watching old movies and television shows, attending the opera, sporting events, and dining out at their favorite restaurants. They traveled all over the world, amassing a huge collection of their adventures in pictures. Nathan recalled how he and Mildred would often relax and comb through those pictures, remembering an anecdote with each one.

They had each enjoyed their own passions; Mildred was an artist with both a paint brush and sculpting tool. Nathan was Mr. Fixit, taking great pride in repairing every electrical or plumbing or automotive problem, and the countless other tasks that confronted and confounded other husbands.

Mildred could not have children and even though they talked of adoption, time seemed to catch up with them and suddenly the thought of raising kids at middle age became daunting. Although they didn’t agree about every facet of life, their differing viewpoints on religion, politics, and other contentious subjects never approached the level of anger and outright contempt they often witnessed in other couples. As the axiom went, they never went to bed angry with one another.

As the sun set and the lights of Manhattan began to blink on, Nathan once again revisited that last night in the hospital. Despite her terminal condition, Mildred’s thoughts were about him. Who will look after you? she had asked. You can’t boil water, let alone cook meals for yourself, Nathan. Indeed, he had tried, watching her prepare meals and doing all the simple tasks to support her, but his desire to learn how to do it all himself never reached the necessary level of enthusiasm.

The expression on her face and in her eyes that fateful night was one of worry, not for her situation, but for his. He held her hand, bony and cold, tears in both their eyes. She had fought the good fight, endured chemotherapy and all of its devastating effects, seen her appetite wane, suffered the inevitable loss of weight and strength and hair without complaint. They were both physically exhausted and emotionally spent. He leaned close and whispered in her ear. It’s O.K. to let go, Mildred. I love you so much.

They had exchanged looks one last time and then she closed her eyes. That had been three years ago, but the memory was as fresh as yesterday in his mind. He had read somewhere that your loved one only dies once, but you would die every day remembering the moment. Nathan wiped a tear from his cheek with the back of his hand and reached out to turn his computer off. Enough of this wallowing, he thought. Time to get out of here. But not back to that empty house and all its memories. No, he was hungry and could use a few drinks. Time to mingle with the rest of the world.

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The bar was just two blocks away, one he had frequented many times when he was working. It was relatively quiet with a decent menu and a bar with larger than necessary T.V.s; one fixed on a baseball game, the other on the local news. What’ll it be? the young, attractive barkeep asked with a smile.

Vodka, rocks, with a lime, Nathan answered.

Perfect, the young woman said with a nod, turning to prepare his drink.

He watched her go through the simple tasks of filling a tumbler with ice cubes, pouring the vodka dramatically, raising the bottle up and down, then placing a lime in the drink with a squeeze. She slid the drink in front of him atop a napkin. Want to start a tab, sir?

He smiled, fingering the glass. As long as you don’t call me sir, yes, please.

She tilted her head to the side and smiled at him. And what should I call you? she asked, hoisting a pen to write on another napkin.

Nathan would be fine, he said.

Nathan it is, she replied, her tongue edging out of the corner of her mouth as she wrote his name on the napkin, holding the pen in the most awkward way he could imagine.

Don’t they teach penmanship in school anymore, he wondered? Thanks, Melody, he said, reading her name tag.

No problem, Nathan, she said. She placed the napkin on the bar opposite him, shot him a smile and a wink, then turned to other patrons.

He watched her move away, noting her well-shaped backside. He used to be a breast man, still was in many cases, but lately his imagination was stirred by women in tight fitting skirts or shorts accentuating their booties. Is that what they called it now? He wondered what in the world he would do, how he would handle a sexual situation with someone like Melody? Would he even be able to perform? It had been a long time since he had been with a woman. The last few years with Mildred had been limited to holding her hand or hugging her and well, the most recent years had presented zero opportunities assuming he was even interested. Tonight he seemed to be, but it was just another thought that fought for control of his brain with so many other competing fantasies.

Nathan sipped his drink, winced and tried to shut out the low rumble of bar noise as he revisited his dinner meeting with Kevin the other night. The subject that stuck in his brain was not that of staying on to complete the LCS