I Wonder What She Meant

I Wonder What She Meant?

This is a short tale that is not what it appears. There is no sex, sorry.

It was an innocuous conversation. To tell the truth, I don't even remember what she said, the she being Sue, a friend of my wife's. But on our way home, Linda, my wife, pondered, "I wonder what she meant?"

Being a guy, Jim Carson, I tried for the obvious, "Why not what she said? Do you think she misspoke?"

Linda looked at me and swallowed her first thought, "No, I suppose she could have just meant what she said."

The pause and the confusion both got to me. Why would you be so curious about whether someone meant what they said? I enjoy mysteries: books, TV shows, movies, and puzzles I try to work out myself. This was one of those.

One of the great things about mysteries is interrogation. A suspect almost always gives themself up in an interview. I don't think it is their guilt. It is having too much information and not knowing only the perp would know what they know. You ask a small child, "What were you doing?" "I wasn't in the kitchen sneaking a cookie." It doesn't occur to the child that only the perp knows a cookie is missing.

The other thing, common to mysteries, is things that don't seem to add up, don't. If Linda wonders if people say what they mean, it is because she doesn't. I tried to think what she'd said, which was worded to misinform. Quickly, I decided that wasn't the path to discovery. I had fallen for it, and since I had no idea what it was or when she'd said it, I wouldn't figure it out this way.

The light turned green, and I just sat there. "Are you waiting for the pole to turn green, too?" Linda brought me out of my mulling. I took my foot off the brake and hit the accelerator. Once again, we were on our way home from Sue and Dave's.

"Where are you?" Linda asked. Her question was not disgusted, like she was asking a dumb ass who didn't go on green. It was timid, like she feared she'd let the cat slip out of the bag.

If I had any idea what Linda had said to me, disingenuously, I could ask a question probing her about that. What could I say, instead? Alerting her was my worst option if I wanted to know more.

"You know me, I find mysteries everywhere. I am thinking about situations where people would say what they didn't mean and why they might say it."

"I'm sorry I said that. I just meant she didn't sound like she meant it. She was insincere."

"Oh, I get that," I said, trying to convince her she'd thrown me off the track, again. "But, for instance, we all tell white lies, to keep from hurting someone if we told the truth."

"I suppose. Pay attention to your driving."

That convinced me. I know that it might be paranoia, but even paranoids have people who want to get them. Dismissing an uncomfortable comment can only be because there was something harmful in the comment.

People are deceitful for many reasons. Spouses are deceitful for two reasons: infidelity and money. We watched our money too carefully; she was not hiding spending from me. Am I getting carried away? No, I don't think so. If it's infidelity, I'll take some moderate action, like smothering her while she sleeps. If not, well, it's no big deal.

"We will not get home this week if you keep sitting at green lights. Get off it. I misspoke. I didn't mean what I said. Leave it alone."

"Yes, dear."

The game is afoot.

I am an accountant, but I am also very creative. Early in my education, a professor told me to find an outlet for my creativity since creativity in accounting is generally a felony. So, I write. So far, writing is a hobby.

I write mostly on Wednesday night, when Linda works late.

I think a sentence is a clue, and Linda works late one night a week. In addition to being an accountant and an author, I am apparently either naïve or stupid. In fairness, she does work in an art gallery that is open late on Wednesdays--she might be working.

We got home, and Linda was all over me. That was in her favor; she initiates sex as often as I do. That hasn't changed. Maybe I am paranoid. We did burn a lot of energy and I slept well.

"Something smells good." Linda was following her nose into the kitchen.

"I was up early, so I decided to make you some breakfast. You worked particularly hard last night, twice." She came up to me and kissed me. She did that a lot.

"What are you planning for today?"

"Tomorrow is the first Monday of the month."

"Oh, silly me. Finances. I'd ask how long that will take, but you are at it for three and a half hours before dinner and another thirty minutes after."

"It's our money, I should do my best to be accurate."

She laughed, that sweet melodic laugh I had come to love. Maybe it was just a fling and she still loved me.

Could I live with her? I don't think so. At least I had the numbers to work with. They would keep me calm.

"Well, if you are going to sit down at 2:30, to start doing what you do, we don't have much time to get this place ready for another week."

We each did our tasks. Laundry, trash, vacuuming, dusting, and the necessities of keeping a clean house. Things were looking good at 2:20. I was pleased.

Linda was laughing, again. "You know, at first your orderliness drove me crazy. But it's kinda nice to have routine things be predictable. I love my freedom and somehow it's freer with order in the things that take from freedom. Does that make sense?"

"I think it does. I love my writing. It is the time I allow myself to be free. It's good for me." I looked at the clock on the oven. 2:27. It was time.

I went into the office and loaded my accounting software. I got the bills and statements together and started my work. May 4th. Although we operate on calendar years, I always use May to make sure all the accounts are as they were at the beginning of the year. I checked through everything and only one thing stood out.

In February, the gallery that employed Linda switched banks. Her paychecks were exactly the same but there was a difference. In January the Federal withholding was $654.23 and the State withholding was $312.32. In February, it was $654.32 and $312.23. How did I miss that?

I remembered! Linda told me they were moving from a salaried employment arrangement to commissions. She was being paid commissions now, when she made a sale, yet her paychecks never varied. Something was rotten.

I was paralyzed. What do I do?

Now, I know what she meant when she wondered about Sue. She told me she was changing how she made money and didn't tell me the whole story. She couldn't even get the withholding taxes right.

On Sundays, while I did our finances, Linda pampered herself.

I had to confront her. I needed one more fact. Usually, Linda is in the tub, soaking. I found her at her dressing table, making herself look really nice. Maybe her Wednesday nights out were now going to include Sundays.

"You're early."

"I found something. We need to talk."

"You are good, I knew it was a matter of time. How did you find it?" She had this big smile. She was actually pleased to have been caught.

"You're happy about this?"

"Over the moon."

I had to sit down.

"Jim, you look like your dog died. What's wrong?"

"I found out about your affair. Did you know your withholding tax is wrong?"

She just stared at me. Then, "Okay, first, I am not having an affair. When I said you figured it out. What did you figure out?"

"You are hiding money from me. Probably to spend on your lover."

"I told you. There is NO lover. I have been putting my commissions in the bank. Three months and almost five thousand dollars. I have a plan for the money."

"Are you leaving me?"

She got up. All she was wearing was a short robe. No underwear. She was stunning. She sat right beside me on the bed. "Now, you listen to me for a minute. I told you when you started writing these mystery stories that it would cause problems. This started last night, didn't it?"

"Well, yes, it did. Why did you wonder if Sue meant what she said?"

"Because she sounded insincere. I told you that. I also told you to get over it. I should have said this is not one of your novels. Here is what it is."

"Wait, I want..."

"Jim, my dear love. Wait two minutes and you won't have anything to say. You have been wanting to start a family. So, when my commissions started, I stopped taking birth control pills. I wanted to surprise you. I have a nursery fund started."

She got up and went to her table. She returned with two sticks, both of which had a blue plus sign.

"It takes a while for the pill to clear out of your system. I will go to the doctor as fast as I can, but these sticks say I am pregnant."

She was right, I had nothing to say. We hugged; she lay back on the bed. I rolled on top of her, then jumped back. "Will I hurt the baby?"

She just shook her head. "Maybe you should write science fiction. And the baby is not yet the size of a pea. Put your creativity to work on making a mother-to-be happy." There was that wonderful laugh, followed by a delighted gasp. I'll show her creative.