|
Edited on Mon Jun-07-10 03:17 PM by TalkingDog
I got up and helped my husband medicate the small kitten a neighbor-child brought to us 10 days ago. We didn't think it would survive the night or the visit to the vet. But it turns out this kitten has a fighter's spirit.
My husband had to rush, he was running late for work, but he took the time to kiss me goodbye as he always does; even when I am still asleep. I went back to bed, but could not return to that dark, mindless bliss. So I hauled myself up and started my day.
I dealt with dogs, cats, daily chores, inside tasks and outside tasks until everything was caught up. Today, I needed something from the library, so I gathered my things and drove into town.
Down main street in this sleepy town, I see teens flirting on the lawn of the local high school. Moms with strollers. The word bucolic would not be out of place in this discussion. My husband works here; for the county and his building is located very near the public library. I always pass it on my way to other destinations.
Today, as I approached, I saw an EMS vehicle behind a compact car with a police car pulled up to the side. My first thought was that someone had missed the narrow drive up to his building and needed assistance. As I grew closer, I saw another police car, and another, and by the time I passed the drive I saw that it was full of police cars, fire trucks and the Medical Examiner's vehicle.
I saw infinite possibilities fan out before me. This is a small southern town. Of all the county employees my husband is in the minority in terms of being a healthy weight, following a good diet and getting exercise. One possibility was that someone had a heart attack. At least one of his co-workers has cancer. The building is old and has minor problems. The building fronts a neighborhood with less-than-desirable apartment dwellers who will often use the parking lot as a cut through.
But just in case, just in case, I called his cell. No answer. I left a message that I would be in the library and he should leave a voice mail. I called his department's secretary. No answer. Now I was concerned. If he was on the phone with a citizen (as he likes to call them) he would not bother with the cell. But the secretary is there specifically to answer calls and direct them to the proper department.
I left a message for her asking that she pass a message along to him when she got the chance.
I walked into the library and found the information I was looking for. About 30 minutes into my visit my phone buzzes. A private number. We have friends who block their numbers, so I ignored it. 5 minutes later another buzz. It is not a number I recognize at all. I think there may be a connection to the police at my husband's work place, but only have a few more minutes of work to do, so I turn off the phone before the librarians ask me to leave.
As soon as I am out of the building I turn on my phone. There are 3 messages. One is from my sister. I call voice mail and am relieved to hear my husband's voice on the other end. But is is very low and shaky.
"I don't want you to worry." he begins.
Too damned late.
"I'm okay...." I'm less worried now.
"Somethings happened, but I'm okay. Call me. I don't want you to worry."
The 2nd message is similar, but I can tell that he is now outside. He sounds a little hyper now. Like he is pacing.
"I just want you to know I'm okay. Everybody got out." Now I'm thinking 'a fire?'
"Call me."
The 3rd message, from my sister, sounds worried. She's been infected with my husbands distress. She tells me to call him, then call her.
I call.
The County Commissioners, Republicans all, in their infinite wisdom, decided to cut taxes to the bone when the housing bubble was going strong and they were taking in fees and taxes hand over fist. When the crunch started, they were dealing with a serious shortfall. Raising taxes now was not possible, in their estimation. Cuts would have to be made. And many of the cuts came from my husband's division. People were shifted into other jobs or laid off. Raises were put off for another day. Work weeks were shortened.
As they were deciding who to lay off, they looked at work history and performance. One of the people they let go, a middle aged woman, walked into the only entrance in the building with no cameras, went to her former office and committed suicide by blowing her brains out.
I'm sure it will make the local paper. But as an event in the new economy, I'm not sure it's novel enough to make the Charlotte broadcast news.
|
Printer-friendly format
Email this thread to a friend
Bookmark this thread
(1000+ posts)
Send PM |
Profile |
Ignore
