Margin of Error
by Gary Clifton
“Do you mind if I share your table, ma’am?”
She raked her materials closer and gestured. “Of course.” She craned her neck and smiled. “Academia is busy tonight.” She didn’t know him. He was slender, with close-cropped sandy hair. The Donald Duck logo on his sweatshirt was rather clever, she thought.
He slid into his chair. “I’m Randall Callahan,”
“Fiona Kaminski.” She was blonde, shapely, and attractive. Randall quickly locked on his radar.
Small talk became a beer at Willie’s. She was impressed when he told her he was in his last year in law school. She confessed to being a “lowly” elementary school education major.
The relationship germinated and, in a month, he was spending most nights in her cramped off-campus apartment. The relationship involved passionate activity so enthusiastic they migrated to the floor to avoid the noise of her squeaky bed.
The glue appeared indelible. Randall passed the bar on his first try, then landed a job with a firm in Houston. Fiona found a job in a suburban school district.
Mostly to satisfy both sets of parents, they were married in a simple ceremony before a local Justice of the Peace. A gathering of the two families at a local bar gave both the chance at a meeting with their new relatives. Fiona was impressed with the large number of people Randy considered family. The reception was brief; family members scattered back to their homes, and the loving couple went about the business of moving on with life.
A year passed. Things were great. They bought a small house in far North Harris County. The sex continued with vigor. Fiona was ecstatic and deeply in love with her husband. Randy seemed to mirror her contentment.
Fiona’s school district closed for a day for teachers to complete semester grades. Fiona, always a demon for detail, had already completed her work. She was free. It seemed a fine time to drive to downtown Houston and surprise Randy for lunch.
As she stood in his lobby confirming his office number from the building directory, a familiar soft laugh drifted out from the group exiting an elevator. Her husband had stumbled onto her surprise. She turned in the crowded lobby.
Then, horror of horrors, a lightning bolt of pain stabbed her heart. Randy walked across the lobby, chattering in animated conversation with his companion, a shapely, vivacious brunette, an arm draped around her neck. Her knees instantly weak, Fiona managed to avoid collapsing on the lobby floor as she turned away. She struggled not to vomit.
As is often the case, Fiona, a simple soul, never exposed to serious adversity and normally incapable of violence, instantly exploded into deadly murder mode.
She kept them in sight amidst the heavy sidewalk traffic. They lunched in a secluded booth near the rear of a trendy restaurant. It appeared Randy had been here before. Several times during the meal, Randy smiled as he reached across and squeezed the young woman’s hand. Like a lecherous stalker, Fiona watched through a window, swallowing hard to keep her stomach.
On the reverse walk back to Randy’s office, he rested his hand periodically on the brunette’s shoulder.
She lingered in abject agony in a coffee shop across Fannin Street from the law firm lobby. She finally caught sight of Randy in the crowd of workers leaving the building at just past 5:30. And mother of God, the brunette was with him! They stopped in front of a high-rise hotel. Randy hugged her, then walked toward a parking structure at the end of the street. The brunette entered the hotel lobby.
Fiona fled, distraught, barely beating Randy home in rush-hour traffic. He gave her his customary hug.
“How’d your day go?” she asked.
“Oh, same stuff.”
“Have lunch?” She spoke cautiously, concealing her stress.
“Oh yeah, grabbed a bite. Bad news: I gotta go back downtown tonight. Emergency meeting... urgent case.”
“Want some dinner?”
“No, they’ll cater something. Just came home to let you know what’s going on. I don’t like to be away from you, sweetheart.”
Fiona stood in stunned agony as he chattered about the “case.” In minutes, he bade her goodbye and walked out to his car.
Consumed with the deadly wrath of a woman scorned, Fiona found the pistol Randy kept at bedside for home protection. Uncertain exactly of her plan, she drove back to Randy’s office, taking care to park at a garage across the street. She stuffed the pistol in her shoulder bag and stationed herself at the doorway to Randy’s lobby.
Great God, she’d guessed correctly! Randy and his girlfriend exited the hotel door and walked toward her. Again, Randy had an arm around his companion. He was going to use his office for a tryst with this slut, by God! She gripped the hard steel of the pistol in the purse. She’d murder both the bastards! Keeping her hand on the pistol concealed in her purse, she waited, dry-mouthed and blindly furious.
“Hey, babe, what brings you down to the tall buildings?”
“I think you know, Randy,” she said, her voice on the edge of breaking. “Who’s your new friend?”
He sounded the laugh she’d loved so much. “Friend? Damn, Fiona, you don’t remember my cousin Ashley, from Dallas. You met her at our wedding reception.”
Fiona slid her hand, empty, from her purse. “Cousin? Reception...”
“Yeah, she’s working as an intern in our office, about to finish law school. What are you doin’ down here?”
“I didn’t remember her...”
The young woman said, “Oh, I was there only briefly, and you were inundated with introductions.” She extended her hand.
Fiona took the outreached hand. “I... uh... came down because I miss my husband,” she stammered. Weakly.
Randy laughed. “I thought I told you Ashley was coming to town. If you can sit through a very boring lawyer meeting, babe, I’ll buy us all a steak in an hour or so.”
“Great,” Fiona said, again weakly.
Copyright © 2023 by Gary Clifton
