Gathering Fallen Rocks Ch 02
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Gathering Fallen RocksChapter 2 free porn video
"When my marriage failed, I didn't make a very good choice the second time. If I had learned something, wouldn't I have done better? You need to read the letter about that failure, too."
"Okay, while I put the steaks on, go get the letter."
"Okay," Gail turned to leave the kitchen area and as she walked across the old adobe tile floor, she told Howard, "And the same rule applies, you have to read it out loud to see if there's anything I want to change."
Ricky,You will notice I did not begin this letter with "Dear" Ricky. You are not dear anything, to me. In fact, I should have begun it by addressing you as Mr. Hennessey, because I feel like I really don't know you.
I don't know if I was running away from home, looking for a friend, or just wanted a man in my life when I met you. I'm not sure what you thought you had, but it wasn't what you got. I wasn't interested in sitting in a bar all night. I didn't want to trade partners with strangers, and I certainly didn't want to move out of an apartment in the middle of the night, just to avoid paying the next month's rent.
I worked every day. I couldn't understand why you thought you didn't need to. It surprised me when I discovered the money I was giving you to pay our bills, went down the throats of a succeeding string of other women. Whatever else you did with them, you gave me an STD, which was really the last straw. And then you had the gall to accuse me of giving to you. It wasn't a very convincing argument when you "accidentally" allowed me to find another woman's underwear in the truck. Yes, the doctor gave me some medication which worked. Although you never asked, I thought you would like to know. Silly me, I thought marriage vows meant something.
I appreciate you buying the truck without saying anything about it to me. It was very nice that you let me have it in the divorce settlement. You will be happy to know I've almost finished paying it off. How long did you think you could keep hiding all the credit card statements? Five different VISA cards, charged to the max was not very good money management. Oh, I forgot, you didn't care, did you? You thought I could pay for them along with everything else.
I won't bother to thank you for leaving me with the furniture. It was a wedding gift from my mother. She had it delivered to the apartment before we married, so it's really mine. She wanted us to have a nice "love nest." Of course, it's no longer as nice looking. Using your knife to scratch an "X" on the table tops and every other flat surface you could find when you were angry with me does make it look a little "used." I suppose I should feel lucky you didn't use the knife on me, as you threatened to do so many times.
Seriously, I doubt this letter will cause you more than a moment of guilt. That's not my reason for writing. What I really wanted to tell you is, "Thanks." You taught me something, even if it took a black eye and a few broken ribs to learn it. Next time, don't tell your wife that her mother is a better lay than she is. She might not be as nice about it as I was. After all, weren't you supposed to be my teacher? I thought that's what being a virgin when you married was all about.
Someday, when your extraordinary good looks begin to fade, you better have something to sustain you because you are going to run out of women to support you. When your sexual prowess fails, or your promiscuity results in an illness that can't be treated by a few shots, you better have something to live for, because that mirror will tell you how far you have fallen. It is a fate I consider myself lucky to have escaped.
Gail
When Howard finished reading the letter, he looked at Gail where she sat, mesmerized by the flames in the big fireplace as if she were in some kind of trance.
"You don't want to change any of this one, either, do you?"
"No, not really, I'd probably make it a lot worse and it wouldn't faze him. He'd just laugh and consider himself lucky to have me out of his life." Her tone of voice changed when she said, "You know, a month or two after the divorce was final he called and asked me for a loan."
Howard walked over to the old rawhide covered couch and sat beside Gail. Like her, he was staring into the flames that were licking the bacon strips wrapped around their venison steaks.
"Gail, about this Ricky guy, why did you marry him?"
"I don't know Howard. Truly, I do not know. I've asked myself that same question at least once a day for the last couple of years and a lot more often than that the two years before that."
"But didn't you know, or suspect, what kind of a person he was?"
"No, and that's the absolute truth," she answered. "I was just barely eighteen years old. I could not stand to live in my mother's house for one more second. All I saw, were those other girls, getting married, wearing fabulous white dresses, opening piles of presents, moving away from home and into their own apartments. If I'd had any idea how easy it was, I could have done it all by myself and saved myself an awful lot of misery."
"Yeah," Howard admitted, "we aren't very smart when we think we know it all, are we?"
As Gail sat, staring at the flames in the fireplace, snatches of a conversation returned as if they were being spoken for the first time.
A gruff voice demanded to know, "What do you mean, you're quitting?"
"I'm resigning from my job and I am not giving two weeks notice," Gail answered.
Her boss was surprised. "Gail you've been here for five years. Have you accepted employment elsewhere?"
"No, Mister Abrams." Gail shook her head. "Although I've had offers in the past, I'm not going to work for your competition."
"Then why are you quitting?" Mister Abrams still sounded surprised, but he was beginning to accept that Gail was serious.
"Mister Abrams, in the last two years, two people in my department, with less time on the job than I have, have been promoted."
"Yes," the man answered, proud that he had people from his department advancing in the company. "Both of them had good experience before they came to work here. We like to promote from the inside. The company feels it retains more loyal and better trained employees when it does so."
"You are right." Gail's voice turned cynical. "Joan had six months at her previous job, less than a year here, and she was promoted. Alice had two years secretarial experience and was promoted in six months."
"Yes, they may have had less time with the company, than you have," he agreed, but he reminded her, "but both of them are fully licensed."
"Mister Abrams, I am also licensed, at my own expense and outside of office hours. Joan and Alice went to school at company expense during office hours. Not only that, all of my performance reviews, copies of which I have, show quote "this employee is considered an excellent candidate for promotion" unquote. I also applied for both of the jobs Joan and Alice were promoted to."
Dismissively, Mister Abrams said, "Now, Gail..."
"Mister Abrams, I have enough proof to file a lawsuit for discrimination against this company. I would win and you know it. I think I'll just ask to be paid my two weeks severance pay and two weeks vacation pay, which I'm entitled to, and I'll just leave. It will be less trouble for you."
"Well, if that's what you want to do, I'll see if I can get a check for you, at least by the end of the week. I'm not sure I can pay you for the vacation time, though."
"Mister Abrams, I'd like to have my check, for the vacation time too, today, maybe within the next hour, or so. I think you would like to see me leave about as bad as I want to be gone. You can do that, can't you?"
Dear Mr. Abrams,I really am sorry I had to leave my job. From the first day I worked for the company, I felt I was doing something I truly enjoyed. I had dreams of being more than just a person in the back room, handling stacks of papers, making copies, and typing forms for the examiners.
After the first year or so, I thought I was a valued employee. At least I was led to believe I was, because every person who was hired into my department spent their first few weeks learning from me. When you introduced them to me, you said, "This is Gail Fisher. She will show you what your job is, and if you have any questions, just ask her. She knows this department backwards and forwards."
Twice, other companies tried to hire me, offering me more money to go to work for them. Stupid me, I did not accept either of the offers because I had loyalty and a confidence I would be promoted to fill the next opening as an officer.
I enjoyed my profession so much. On my own time, and paying for the courses myself, I passed the exam and received my license. I did not wait for the company to send me to school. Maybe I should have waited. Two of my co—workers were given that opportunity, and they were advanced with much less experience than I had, and they were trained by me. Was I doing your job, too?
As I told you, Joan Evans had six months at her previous job, less than a year with the company, and she was promoted. Then within a year, she left to start a family. I cannot see that you or the company gained much for the expense of training and promoting someone who never intended to make her job into a career. She was looking for a wealthy man to marry and found one, a good client of the company.
Alice Bennett had two years secretarial experience and was promoted in six months. She found a different way to gain a promotion, did she not? I suspect Mrs. Abrams would be interested in learning the number of times you took three hour lunches on the same days Alice chose to take an afternoon off.
No, I have not shared any of my information with anyone else, nor will I do so because, I hope that if I ever seek another job, I will have a good reference from you. I will not ask a prospective employer to refrain from contacting my previous employer, but I may say that I had a "personal problem" with my supervisor. I'm sure anyone hearing that will understand they might get better information about my work habits, from someone else in the company.
Gail Fisher
It wasn't that Gail didn't like her job, she did. She liked it so much she planned to make it her career. It was the history of the city and the state, told in documents of who owned land, how long they owned it, and to whom they sold it, or a portion of it. From the date when thousands of acres were given to a long—ago Spanish or Mexican soldier, settler, or nobleman, until Johnny and Susie bought their little house on a very tiny portion of that land, documents detailed all the conveyances between those two dates.
Howard was saying something, and Gail was not listening until he tapped her on the shoulder.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"I think the steaks are done. Let's eat."
Gail cut a piece of steak, put it in her mouth, and smiled, "Oh, this is venison? I didn't know it would be this good. I thought it might taste, I guess I've heard the word, 'wild, ' used so many times." She laughed a little and added, "I'm not even sure what wild tastes like, but this is good."
"It's all in the way the meat is treated before it's butchered. You've heard of aged beef, right?" Gail nodded and he continued, "It's the same with game. It needs to be aged to develop a good flavor."
"Is that what you do with all the cows around here? Sell them to be butchered for steaks?"
"Yeah, eventually, that is, if I ever get enough of them."
"And now it's your turn to tell me about your world crumbling," Gail reminded Howard. "You've already learned about two of my big mistakes. What's your biggest rock look like?"
"Rock?"
"Yeah, my life is a rock wall," she explained. "I'm sitting on top and all the rocks breaking loose and falling are going to cause me to fall off. So I figure that's what I mean by my world crumbling."
"Hey, that's pretty good. I might even use that analogy myself."
"Ah, Howard, what does your biggest rock look like?"
"Oh," he grinned. "It didn't work did it?"
Gail liked his grin. It changed his face into the look of a little boy caught doing something naughty. "Nope, I'm persistent, I'll keep asking until you answer."
"Okay," his face, once again turning serious. "See, I work at a hardware store. I guess it's a good job. I get paid for it. But I can't stand my boss, and since he's the owner, I don't have much choice."
Pepper's Hardware was a small town hardware store, which meant they sold plumbing supplies, appliances, hammers, nails, or an electric drill — if that's what you needed. They also stocked batteries, tires, oil, and antifreeze for your car. But it didn't end there. The store sold bicycles, blue jeans, western shirts, and in the back you could get a one—hundred pound sack of deer corn, sacks of special feed for chickens, cows, pigs, and even dog food. Just about every thing you couldn't find at the local grocery store, you would find at Pepper's and a hook to hang it on.
Every year, Pepper hired, as part—time employees, at least two players of the local high school football team. Thursdays were spent with local football fans going in and out the store, talking about the upcoming football game. Fridays, the students even wore their game jersey to work. Local football fans filled the store, taking up aisle space, pre—playing the game. Saturday was even worse, more fans crowded the store congratulating or commiserating with the players over the previous evening's game, describing how the different plays appeared from their perspective in the bleachers. As soon as football season was over, the next sport, with usually the same players, went through the same process of pre—play and post—analysis.
However the conglomeration of people was not customers who came to purchase Pepper's merchandise. The genuine customers had problems finding what they wanted with so many people standing around, and they often left without buying anything, remarking they were going to drive to the next town where they could shop in a less congested store.
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