Conflict of Interest

Insanity. It's all around us -- not to mention inside of us. The idea that everyone has the capacity for insanity is a scary thought. . .

Conflict of Interest

I wake up and take a good, long look around the room. Damn, I think. I’m still here. I was hoping it was all another nightmare. Every morning, I am tortured by the same hope: maybe none of it really happened. Maybe I’ll wake up and it will all be some sick prank, some psycho god’s idea of a joke. The last thought is the scariest because it seems the most plausible. Whichever god is responsible for my fate must be laughing hysterically by now. I shake my head and look out the window. It’s the same view as yesterday: green grass, perfectly-planned flower beds, the asphalt parking lot. The parking lot reminds me of something… something in my past… something I don’t like to think about. My old job. Carolyn. Meredith. Oh, God, Meredith.

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Meredith was the head partner of my law firm, a drop-dead gorgeous woman who looked 23 but was really 30 years old. A divorcee, she was the type of woman who lived by the old adage, “if you’ve got it you should flaunt it”. And she flaunted it well. Long, tanned legs were framed by stiletto heels and barely-professional skirts. Her suits clung in just the right places; the necklines always stopped just at the point where imagination ends, tantalizing all of the men she employed.

Meredith walked with the confidence that only the truly stunning have. Her hips swayed suggestively and her carefully-tousled hair bounced as she made her way down the hall. She spoke in a low purr that reminded me of the low-grade porno movies my buddies and I watched in college. In short, Meredith was every guy’s fantasy — and every girl’s nightmare. With Meredith, there was always an air of suggestion. Working late, a man always had the feeling that she could burst in at any moment and make his wildest fantasies come true. She and Carolyn were polar opposites.

Carolyn was the type of woman who always did the right thing. She was a fantastic cook and seemed to know the proper etiquette for every situation. Carolyn was beautiful — long, straight blonde hair; big blue eyes; perfect smile. She was thin but had to work for it. When we went to a restaurant she never ordered dessert and was constantly counting calories.

This self-control was evident in all facets of her life. She did not kiss me until our fourth date, and then made it perfectly clear that she was “saving herself for marriage” and hoped I felt the same. I had heard this line many times, from many girls. By this time I even expected it, but never believed it. As our relationship progressed I found that Carolyn was, indeed, serious. Any time things got a little too heated she would pull back. Arguments resulted in her anger and my frustration. Soon, I stopped pressuring her. She later told me that her respect for me grew in proportion to my “sacrifice of bodily desires”. She was always saying things like that, using the religious jargon she had grown up with and considered nothing more than a childish belief in fairytales. Of course, this created a tension between us.

I tried to keep my thoughts from her, though. Carolyn was like a porcelain doll. I wanted her to keep her innocence; it was one of her most attractive qualities, no matter how much it bothered me. I know my feelings for Carolyn seem confusing. To be honest, they were. Are.

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I look out of the window of my room. It’s a comfortable room; not too big, but large enough to move around in. The double bed is covered in a maroon blanket with a strange design of multicolored squiggles. One day I tried to decipher the pattern in the scribbled décor, but came up blank. Funny, isn’t it, how a man can go from being a high-powered lawyer who can handle any case, to a broken quasi-man attempting to make a pattern out of chaos. I know, I’ve thought about it. But who can predict the future? Carolyn used to tell me to leave everything in God’s hands, but what kind of god plays these games with people? The thought of Carolyn throws me back into the past again.

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I am driving to a nearby town to meet Meredith. Suddenly, my cell phone rings. I glance at the screen and am informed that the caller is Carolyn. I sigh and answer the phone. “Hi, Care,” I say. “What do you need?”

“I was just going to remind you to return those movies you rented the other night. I think one of them may be overdue,” she replies cheerfully. “How are you doing, Hon? Are you coming over tonight?”

I consider. “Well, you know I’d love to but — but my grandma’s sick.” It’s amazing how easy lying gets to be after a while. “I should probably go see her. If you really need me, though…” I trail off, knowing that Carolyn’s sense of propriety will never allow her to interfere with my family.

“Oh, no, you need to be with her. Definitely. You must be worried sick. Is there anything I can do?” She sounds concerned.

Yeah, send me a couple of bottles of red wine, I think. “No, there’s nothing you can do. Thanks, though. Well, I’m going to lose reception in a minute. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Which hospital is she staying in? My grandpa stayed in MedCenter One and we were very pleased with the care he received.”

“Really? That’s where Grandma is, too. I’m glad the care is good. I really am going to cut out, though. Talk to you later?”

Her response is warm. “Of course. I love you!”

“Love you, too. Bye!” I hang up the phone, only to hear it ring again. Meredith. “Hi… yes, I’m on my way… I’ll just be a few more minutes… twenty, maybe? No, no, I can pick you up, that’s no problem.”

“Are you sure you can? Because I can meet you there if you need to. There’s something so sexy about sneaking around to meet a man… especially a man like you,” her husky voice responds suggestively. “Of course, I can always use a few more minutes to… get ready.”

I know what that means. We won’t ever make it to the restaurant. When Meredith is in a seductive mood, there is no turning her down. I smile at the thought and mentally assess myself. Tall, lean, and tan from my daily run, I know I am attractive. I look into the rearview mirror and stare into my own clear blue eyes. A strong jaw and straight, white teeth complete the picture. My suit and tie make me look professional and that’s how Meredith likes it. Nothing turns her on like a challenge. And in my current outfit, I appear to be a challenge. I look down at my suit and begin to imagine what will happen. First, she’ll loosen my tie. Mechanically, my fingers move to my neck.

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I snap back to reality and laugh bitterly. A tie. Yeah, right, a tie. In here, in John Goodhopkin’s Residence for the Mentally Incapacitated, I’m going to wear a business suit. Now I know I belong here. The scent of flowers wafts across the room. Carolyn loved flowers. Why did I have to hurt her? Why? I know it was my fault; who else is there to blame? If it hadn’t been for me, Carolyn would still be her sweet and innocent self with that undying optimism. Instead, she’s… she’s… I can’t even say it. Suddenly I recall that night. I am amazed at how clearly I can remember — even now.

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I pull into Meredith’s driveway and stare at the manicured lawn. Her huge white house rises from lush gardens, almost resembling an old slave plantation. I wonder if Meredith’s ancestors were slave owners and decide to ask her later. I walk to the door as if in a trance, all the while wondering how I will be greeted. Meredith was known for her imaginative methods of answering the door. The last time I was there, she threw open the door with nothing on but a long, lush, fur coat. This time I was anticipating something even better.

I ring the bell and wait for Meredith to emerge. When she does, I am not disappointed. Her sheer bra and panties cover little. I am ready to take her right there in the doorway, but Meredith has different plans. She leads me into her bedroom, a dimly lit piece of Heaven. As she slowly takes off my suit, she tells my how much she wants me. When we finish, she pulls back and stares at me.

“I have something important to tell you. You know the firm is looking for another partner, correct?” I nod. “Well, your name has come up in the selection process and, well, I don’t want to say too much but… I think you have an excellent chance of getting the position.” At the word ‘position’ she gives me a slow, lazy wink. “Especially if you keep up your positive… relations within the firm.”

There is no missing the insinuation: maintain my relationship with Meredith and become partner or break it off and never move up in the company. The thought of Carolyn briefly flickers through my mind but I try to push it away. Instead, I reach for Meredith. “Positive relations, huh? In what position?” I ask. Meredith’s low chuckle is her only reply.

Suddenly, Meredith’s bedside phone rings. “Don’t answer it,” Meredith moans. Her answering machine clicks on and I hear Carolyn’s voice.

“Hello, Meredith. This is Carolyn, Kevin’s girlfriend. I was just wondering if you would happen to know where he is, but since you’re obviously very busy I’ll find him later.”

Meredith looks at me closely. “How did she get my number? What did you tell her?”

“Nothing, I swear. I said I had to visit my sick grandma in the hospital. I don’t know what she wants.” I try to justify myself to Meredith.

She just stares at me intently. “Well, you had better become more… responsible in your personal life.” I agree.

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Life intrudes upon my memories again as a nurse enters the room. She checks my heartbeat and blood pressure and makes polite conversation about the weather. Finally, she leaves me alone with my thoughts.

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After leaving Meredith’s I go back to my apartment. My conscience keeps pricking at me so I decide to stop by Carolyn’s on the way. I am greeted with a cold stare. “What the hell do you think you are doing? Poor, sick grandma is not in MedCenter One." Her voice oozes with contempt. "I know because I called to know which room to send the flowers to. When I called your office they gave me Meredith’s number and told me you could probably be reached there. Funny thing, though, she seemed to be occupied and couldn’t answer her phone.”

I try to make excuses but know it’s hopeless. No matter what I say, I know Carolyn will never trust me again.
“You know, I thought you had changed. I knew you had a past; I knew you were no virgin, but I never expected you to defile our relationship! Was she good? No, don’t tell me; I don’t want to know.”

I open my mouth to protest again but Carolyn puts an end to the argument before I can even formulate a response. I watch in horror as my lovely, innocent Carolyn pulls a pistol out of her purse. I recall her telling me that she had purchased one in college for the purpose of self-defense but the image of Carolyn with a firearm still seems incongruous. I try to tell her to stop but she silences me with a gesture. “Goodbye, dear. I hope you are happy,” she whispers before placing the pistol in her mouth and neatly pulling the trigger.

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I am not sure what happened after that; I blacked out. When I regained consciousness the police were hovering over me, asking nonsensical questions. I answered the best I could and went home. I couldn’t sleep, though. All I could think of was Carolyn’s beautiful face and the fact that I would never see it again. I quit going to work and stopped eating. In desperation, I overdosed on pills — Vikoden, Percodan, Tylenol — but to no avail. Meredith came to check on me and called an ambulance. It’s kind of ironic, really; Meredith took Carolyn’s life and saved mine. I haven’t heard from her since.

Of course, the doctors at the hospital immediately recognized that I needed a lot more than “rest, relaxation, and recuperation” to recover. I was committed to John Goodhopkin’s Residence for the Mentally Incapacitated and have been staying here for the past two years. I’ve kept up with the news pretty well, though, and today I received the latest copy of Fortune magazine. Meredith was on the cover. Something inside of me snapped. She’s still gorgeous and more successful than ever. I wonder if she has a new lover. I decide that I don’t want to know. In fact, there isn’t really anything I want to know anymore. Death is a wonderful friend — compared to life.

Last week I managed to pilfer a couple of razor blades from one of the nurses. I think I’m going to put them to use tonight. It’s the only way to make it up to Carolyn.