CHAPTER TWO
Doldrums

It had happened much as Samantha had suggested it would. Shortly after lunch, Julia had been called into a meeting with the vice president of Human Resources. The woman had flown in from New York to meet with people in the Chicago office as part of the reorganization effort. Julia had been escorted into the executive conference room by the woman's administrative assistant, a tall, handsome, well groomed, young man with a nice smile, who'd brought her a coffee just before the meeting started. At the top of the hour, three women strolled in, the vice president with two women from the Chicago Human Resources department, one of them was Samantha. After introductions and initial pleasantries, the woman made Julia the job offer -- regional sales manager of the Northwest Chicago market.

It was a big promotion but Julia's sales figures and the relationships she'd built with clients had spoken for themselves. The company wanted her to be part of the new organizational structure they were building, a bridge to the future they called it. They wanted a progressive, energetic team and they saw her as a part of that vision. One woman to another, she'd also shared with Julia how pleased she was to be offering the position to a woman and that the restructuring had provided a fundamental shift in leadership with women now holding a majority of management positions in the company for the first time. Woman held the majority of executive leadership positions as well which had started when the board had appointed the first female CEO in company history. It was an exciting time.

For Julia, a promotion, a nice salary increase, and an office were all hers for the asking. They were even trying to get company cars for all the regional sales managers.

Julia had smiled throughout the meeting and made sure she presented an enthusiastic, positive, and warm image while the pitch for the promotion was being made to her. It was all part of the corporate game to put up a facade, to let people see and hear what they wanted to see and hear, regardless the truth. Sales had taught her that. The women saw a very happy, grateful and eager Julia, a woman looking forward to her promotion; but, the entire time, she was worrying about how Eric was going to take the news of her increasing success while he was at home unemployed and struggling. A promotion now might affect their entire future together. She left the meeting grinning ear-to-ear asking when she needed to make her decision. She was told to take the rest of the day off to consider the offer and virtually guaranteed a company car to sweeten the deal. Everything seemed to be falling in Julia's lap. A fantastic promotion was just waiting for her to say 'yes'.

If only it was that easy.

On the drive home, Julia pondered over the entire situation with Eric and tried to figure out some angle to make it all work without having to make some serious compromise. The only thing that seemed to make sense was to put off having the baby, maybe for years, while Eric rebuilt his career so Julia would be able to stay home for awhile, taking that extended leave of absence, once their baby came. That seemed to be the only way her baby could get all the love and nurturing she wanted for her child. It wasn't a great solution. Also, if Eric got further depressed over her promotion, it could really mess things up for them. She might never be able to take that extra time off for their baby.

Of course, if she gave up on the idea of breastfeeding things got much easier. She could take the promotion right away and forget about an extended leave of absence for nursing. She could get pregnant soon and Eric could take care of the baby while she was at work. He might not like the role of Mr. Mom but he could learn to change diapers and care for their baby like anybody else could. But Julia just couldn't tolerate the notion of having her baby bottle-fed.

Samantha, on the other hand, had insisted that there was an answer to the whole dilemma. She'd refused to give Julia any more details at lunch, just kept smiling with the most gleeful expression, saying she needed to confirm something first, before she could fill in Julia. It didn't make any sense, nothing seemed to be adding up.

By the time Julia got home she wasn't any closer to an answer and didn't think Samantha could possibly have one either despite her claims. Julia pulled into the parking strip behind their building almost dreading giving the news to Eric and still wasn't sure if she should take the promotion or not.

Their apartment complex ran from street to alley, two buildings facing inward with a grass filled courtyard running between them. A sidewalk ran between the buildings to a large, square, stone planter, in the middle of the courtyard, filled with colorful annuals, and then to each of the buildings.

The walk from the parking strip to their building wasn't a long one but Julia dragged it out, walking slowly, almost idly forward getting up her nerve to give the news to Eric that he was falling ever further behind her, assuming she took the promotion. She wanted to tell him at home, hopefully while he was examining some good job prospect online, and reassure him that, any day now, he'd be at a great job again. She could only hope that was true.

As she was reaching the planter, still lazily moving forward, she suddenly stopped when she spotted a man who looked to be unconscious on a first floor patio at the building on the other side of the courtyard. The man was sprawled out akimbo on a cheap outdoor recliner with faded green straps attached to a bent aluminum frame. The recliner was sagging under the man's weight, tilting outwards. His head lolled out to the side, pressing into the iron wrought bars of the railing which appeared to be the only thing keeping him from rolling off the recliner entirely and into a dozen or more beer bottles sitting at the edge of the patio.

Julia took several tentative steps closer to confirm the man was still breathing. The smell of alcohol and vomit stained the air. Drool was running down one of the bars of the railing from his mouth. The man groaned, still very much alive. He was clearly in some drunken stupor. The sight and smell caused Julia to wriggle her nose as a grimace gripped her face in disgust. What made it worst was she was fairly certain she knew the man and his wife, only casually, but she knew them. Sometimes, she ran across the wife, mostly in the mornings as they both left for work, and Julia recalled the woman had said her husband, John was his name, was 'hitting the pavement' looking for a job. Julia just shook her head and walked away, wanting to be rid of the unemployed drunk who was hitting the booze far more than he was hitting the pavement from the looks of things.

The nagging thought she couldn't walk away from was the feeling that Eric could be slowly moving in the same direction, looking to drown his own sorrows. He'd never drunk alcohol when they were dating, not at all, and very rarely through most of their marriage. After an embarrassing number of overly-macho, half-drunk, losers that she'd dated, it was one of Eric's more endearing traits. But over the last few months, beer had started to make a regular appearance on the weekends and it was slowly creeping into the evenings too. It just served to underscore where Eric was and how vulnerable he might be without a job to take pride in, without something to give him focus and purpose everyday. It made telling him about her success all the harder. She didn't want to hurt him but he had to be told. It was something they needed to discuss as a couple.

Julia climbed the stairs to their third floor apartment with a mixture of pride, regret, and uncertainty. She took a deep breath for courage and keyed open the door, putting a smile on as she marched in, the spikes of her heels clacking loudly on the tile in the entryway as she entered. She wanted to be positive for him, encouraging. Maybe today was the day he'd be on his computer with a job offer.

"Eric?" she called out.

No answer. The apartment was quiet.

Julia quickly peeked through the rooms looking for her husband but he wasn't home. A quizzical look twitched crossed her face. A check of her phone confirmed no recent texts or calls either. She hadn't thought to look for his car when she'd arrived. She just expected him to be there, doing whatever he did all day, job hunting.

Alone, she kicked off her heels and absently traipsed to the middle of the apartment as she tried to let the relative calm of the vacant rooms embrace and relax her.

Their apartment was modest, a couple of bedrooms, and an open space shared by the kitchen to one side with their living room and a makeshift dinning room on the other side. The furnishings were sparse and modern in design; they coordinated well with the artwork decorating the walls, lithographs of bold, soaring cityscapes. The one sculpture they owned resembled three grey metal towers, with rough, stucco like, textured exteriors, which rose vertically over a circular, metallic pedestal. The walls were painted an off-white and the carpet was a dusty-grey. The overall impression of the space conveyed frugal efficiency and seemed to celebrate the modern world.

Julia let out a heavy sigh as a slight throb began pulsing in her temples signaling the possible start of a headache. She hadn't realized how much stress she'd actually been carrying, worrying about telling Eric about her promotion, worrying what it might do to him and their marriage. It was too much. Maybe Samantha was right. Maybe Eric was stuck in the past. Her promotion should be nothing but good news to both of them but instead it filled her with conflict and dread. Of course, right or wrong, Samantha would blame Julia's worry on Eric's male ego and the patriarchy she so often railed against. Maybe she had a point, maybe.

With her headache growing, Julia grabbed a couple aspirins out of her purse and went to the kitchen for a glass of water to swig them down with. It was then she realized the sink was still filled with dirty dishes. She groaned at the sight of them. Eric, given that he was home all day, had agreed to do the dishes months ago. He was spotty, at best, caring for them. Julia often had to follow-up after him to make sure they were done. She'd reminded him that very morning, at breakfast, to wash them and he'd promised to have them in the dishwasher before she got home. Yet, they were still here, still piled up, still stinking up the sink and practically blocking access to the faucet. He seemed oblivious to dirt and seemed content to leave dirty dishes in the sink until they piled so high Julia couldn't stand it any longer and would do them herself. It was galling, they were still here and he was clearly off someplace.

Julia knocked some plates out of the way to use the faucet, filled a glass, tossed back the aspirins, and chased them down with an angry gulp of water. What the heck was he up to that he couldn't care for the dishes?

She fetched her phone, the candy-red case matching nicely with her long nails, and launched a friends finding app. They had each other setup so they could find the other with their smartphones -- GPS was a wonderful thing. Normally, the friends finding app brought her reassurance that Eric was okay. It felt a little more clandestine now. It wasn't like checking up on your mate when they're late getting home, just wanting to make sure they're okay. No, this felt more like spying, more like trying to catch Eric doing something wrong. She waited while the phones and computers and satellites did whatever they did and in a few moments she had a little dot on a map representing Eric. Julia studied the phone for a bit then glowered at it, her lips tightening like her face was seized by a spasm. It looked like Eric was at a liquor store. A liquor store! It was so damn frustrating.

Instead of looking for work he was out buying liquor? He wouldn't normally have expected her home for, at least, a few hours yet. Was this how he spent his day all the time? Maybe Eric wasn't the husband she thought he was. Maybe he was up to no good while she was out supporting him. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt but began to wonder if she was just being a fool. Had Samantha been right about Eric all along?

Julia began looking around the apartment more earnestly, looking for evidence of what Eric was doing during the day. It didn't take long to find a few beer bottles on their balcony that, she was fairly certain, weren't there that morning. They sat there, against the wall of the patio, half hidden behind their deck chair. She stood still as she stared at them, not wanting to approach them, as if they were a silent enemy waiting to pounce on her if she moved. Looking across the courtyard to the building opposite theirs, she could see John below. He was still laying there, marinating in his drunken stupor, waiting for his wife to come home from work. How far away was Eric from being just like John? Somebody that had lost all self-respect and didn't give a damn about his wife or family anymore?

She moved away from the patio and went into Eric's computer room to see if he had any more beer laying about. She didn't see any bottles, which made her feel a little better, but then Eric's computer caught her eye.

The computer's monitor sat on a wooden desk that ran along the far wall, opposite the door as one entered the room, with the machine itself, a big square box, resting on the floor next to the desk. He had a fancy keyboard and mouse on the desk, fancier to help with computer games if she remembered correctly. Also, a modest office chair sat in front of the desk to complete his 'computer-station', as he sometimes called it.

Eric's computer wasn't sitting there idle with him gone though. Instead, it was running some photo screen saver that was fading images in and out, one after another. She hadn't paid any attention to it when she was first looking to see if Eric was home, but now, the images seemed more interesting, maybe more meaningful than she'd considered. Image after image seemed to be from the online fantasy roleplaying game he played. His avatar was in most of the images, she recognized it. He'd shown the avatar to her before. It was supposed to represent him in the game. He'd been boasting about something he'd accomplished, in the game, with a zeal she'd not seen in him since he'd lost his job. The game was important to him as was his avatar, that seemed clear. The avatar was iconically heroic, a huge masculine figure, heavily muscled, almost brutish looking, and wielding an impossibly large sword and shield. She felt like she was getting a glimpse at her husband's psyche. The avatar was an idealized image of himself, a conquering hero, a victorious warrior, something he longed to be but wasn't.

The images just kept coming and coming, there had to be hundreds of them, maybe thousands. How many hours did he spend playing the game?

Julia looked around Eric's computer room, or his office as he liked to call it. He didn't have much in the room outside of his computer-station, a small bookshelf filled with nothing but game manuals, a couple of crates sitting out filled with comic books, and a small side table next to his desk he used mostly for soft drinks. On the side table, there was empty soft drink bottles and two books. One of the books was a job hunting guide. It looked almost new, like it just came off the printing press. Thumbing through it, the book looked pristine. Other than that one book, there was little evidence he was actually looking for work. More importantly, it sat on top of another book which was in total contrast to it.

The other book, a large softcover tome, bore the marks of heavy use, the cover was curled and torn in places, the binding well cracked with creases and furrows. It was the first time Julia had seen the book which suggested he normally kept it out of view as if he was hiding it or was maybe ashamed of it. She picked up the book and thumbed through it quickly. It had dozens of dog-eared pages, another half dozen bookmarks made from ripped pieces of paper, and countless sections marked by a yellow highlighter. It was a game guide, for his computer game, the same game the screen saver was presenting with a seemingly countless number of image captures showing Eric's bold exploits and accomplishments in a fantasy world.

The longer she sat there, the more images rolled by on the screen. Julia couldn't help but wonder if Eric was really looking for work to the extent he always suggested he did, or if he'd become obsessed with, maybe even addicted to, online gaming. After watching hundreds of images roll by, she was sick of looking at his avatar and her headache had gotten worst. It was like he was living a whole other life without her, like she was living in the middle of a lie with somebody she didn't even know. Julia slammed Eric's keyboard to stop the slide show. But it only made things worst. Her mouth gapped open and her eyes went wide as she looked at the screen.

It was the game. The logon screen for the game had been hidden behind the screen saver the entire time. Julia didn't want to believe it. Her eyes went into a wide, unblinking stare. If the logon screen was there, he must have been playing it earlier in the day, while she was away at work. She clenched her hands until her nails started digging into her palms. They'd talked about it before, more than once. It was very clear. Eric was not to play games during the day while Julia was at work. And right now, he thought she was at work. It was contemptuous and utterly disrespectful for him to play computer games while Julia was earning all their money. It was just wrong. He'd promised. He was supposed to be looking for a new job or preparing himself for whatever opportunities might come his way. For that matter, he was also supposed to be helping keep the apartment clean, do some dusting occasionally or vacuuming, something, anything to help with their home. And he was most certainly supposed to do the dishes.

Julia fought back tears as she grabbed the mouse of Eric's computer and started clicking, searching. How far had he taken this? How bad was it? Determination and scorn gripped her as she searched his computer. It didn't take long to find all the images he'd taken in the game. There were thousands of them on his computer and there was no denying it, most of them were taken during the day, the timestamps on the images stood out like thousands of tiny signed confessions. Eric had been playing while she was at work, frequently.

A quiet indignation began growing in Julia. She wanted to lash out and hit something, or someone. Instead, she fanned her fingers out on the desk and just stared at the computer screen, letting the reality of what he'd been doing seep into her as her fingers began to nervously press then scratch at the wood of the desk. It became a comforting rhythm, both hands flexing in unison, scratching, her long nails looking like the claws of a cat considering its prey. Then, the screen saver started up again and an image of Eric, or rather the impossible muscle-bound brutish version of him, filled the screen. Another followed, and another...

"Good!" she exclaimed. "I'll watch you from the start," she said, addressing the screen saver with a crisp, mocking tone. "I wouldn't want to miss any of the fun you were having while I was working."

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