Squirrel Cage (27 page)

I sized up my food inventory. I was good for another few days, I concluded. I had several potatoes left and a dozen eggs. I portioned out the pound cake and cookies for each day of the coming week.
Food was a real concern now. I knew that there would be no more traveling. I would miss the few extra dollars I was able to get by padding an expense report. And I would not be able to collect dinner rolls, fruit, and airplane snacks to supplement my diet. I didn’t realize it, but I was malnourished. The food ran out that week.
And I had no money to buy more.

Sandy, who I had met at church the first time, came over to my place
to
hang out.
We were going to listen to some records and watch some TV.
I enjoyed Sandy’s
company. She was brilliant and S
quirrel loved brilliant people. Squirrel always wanted to learn things.
She thought that if I hung out with smart people, some of it might rub off on me.

“Do you have something to drink Cindi?” Sandy asked.
“I’m sorry Sandy, I only have water.”

“Oh that’s okay; I’ll just have some water then,” she said as she rummaged through the cabinets for a glass.
She secured a glass but then resumed opening up the remaining cupboards for a peek.
I paid no mind to it at the time.

“Do you have any ice Cindi?” she asked as she opened up the freezer door.

“Sure, it’s in the freezer.”

She pulled out the ice tray and filled her glass. After she replaced the ice tray in the freezer, she took a look inside the fridge.

“Cindi, you don’t have any food here do you?”
She demanded.

It was Saturday and I had a couple of cookies left.

“Sure I do, I have some cookies. Want one?” I asked. She nodded in the negative. “I’m doing fine” I said.

“No you are not Cindi. Bruce let on that you were having a hard time buying food and I wanted to be sure. And now I am.”

It was true. I wasn’t eating healthy. For the most part, the morning donut at the company on weekdays and the refreshments at church was all I
had
.

“Let’s go get you some groceries.”

Sandy didn’t have much money either so what I brought home was modest.
But for the first time in quite a while, I had a chicken, some milk, bread, fresh vegetables and a few canned goods in addition to the good old standbys of potatoes, carrots, and eggs.
I had learned to get everything off a chicken.
The meat would last for a couple of weeks.
I boiled the bones
to provide me with soup for 10 additional meals.

As I was directed by the court
, I let Charlene know where I lived.
She in turn passed it to anyone who asked for it.
Thereafter, a steady stream of people came to my little apartment.
They would not give up on me.

Sometimes I could see them come through the gate outside. Instead of facing them, I preferred to run into my bedroom and hide behind the bed. I could see them from there if I peeked through the always closed blinds.
They would knock, wait, knock, and wait. After several minutes, they would leave.

My old missionary companion,
Clark
Sedgwick, visited me one night. I saw him come through the gate. What would I do?

I had been in Chile, on my mission, only two months when my companion was reassigned.
He would become a zone leader, a fairly significant assignment. He left in the morning knowing that my
new
companion was due to arrive any minute. He didn’t arrive. I could have called the mission office to see what was happening. But I did not want to get
Clark
in trouble for nothing. I figured that his bus was a bit late. He called in the early afternoon and let me know that he wouldn’t be getting in until very late that evening.

He arrived with a big smile on his face and a
big
sunburn
where he shouldn’t have one
. He quickly shed his clothes to cool his skin.
As he lay in a living room comfy chair he told me that he had spent the day at the beach. The members, some girls, had thrown a going away party for him. I knew that this was very taboo
in missionary land
. He had left me alone the entire day. He had spent time at the beach. He had removed his garments
(the Mormon underwear that we promised to wear all of our lives)
to get sunburned. This man was evil. I liked him.

The 3 months or so that we spent together formed a friendship that would span decades. Yes he was “chueco”, or broken, as they would say in Chile. He wasn’t really a bad character, just likeable. He never let rules get in the way of having a good time.

We would always devote extra lesson time with families that had pretty daughters. He would always spend time after services to talk to the teen aged girls. At a time when we were supposed to be chaste and celibate, he walked a thin line. And I liked him even more for it.
Although, I had no sexual desires,
I had walked a similar line. My thought
s were crowded constantly with S
quirrel’s scheming.

After I returned to the states, I looked up
Clark
. He lived a couple hours drive away. We double dated with our wives. We got together every once in a while.

I did let
Clark
in my home. He looked at me. “Where’s Elder Stud?” He asked. “Can Elder Stud come out and play?” he asked again jokingly.

“What you see is what you get
,
Clark
.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“
Clark
, let me introduce myself. I am Cindi Jones.”

I held out my arms and he gave me a big hug as I hugged him back.

As he entered my apartment, he quickly picked out one of the small chairs and threw himself at it. Clunk. Thud.

“Man this is an uncomfortable chair,” he said.
“I hardly fit in it,” he continued.

“Only the best will do for my distinguished guest” I replied.

“Cindi,” he said. “Cindi Jones,” he said repeating himself. I could see that he was trying to get used to the name.

“You know why I’m here.”

“Yup.”

“It’s the same reason guests
always come to
visit
.
It seems like it’s three or four times a week
.” I said,
“They all want to talk about the same stuff. Only the faces are different.”

“I’d like to talk you out of this…. Ah… Cindi,” he started.
“Am I going to be able to talk you out of this?” he asked.

“Nope.”

“Okay then, what’s new?” he asked.

The question was actually funny. Here was an old friend dressed as a girl returning his stare. I smiled at him. He laughed.

“I suppose that’s a pretty stupid question,” he said.

“Yup,” I volleyed.

“You’re pretty short on words tonight arentchya Cindi?”

“Yup,” I replied.

“Look Stud… I mean Cindi. I came down here to honestly try and talk you out of this. I know you. I’m not going to succeed where others have failed. But I want to get to know you. And I really want to talk to you.”

He then went on to tell me about his deep dark secret. He was a voyeur. He loved to watch women undress. He had talked to his church authorities and was starting the journey with his problem. No one at the time knew about it
but
he confided in me. For the moment it was just between him and his Bishop.

I told him briefly what I had been going through. “
Clark
, I had some relief when I went to California. But it hasn’t stopped. They won’t leave me alone. There are too many of them and I can’t take it any more,” I told him.

We spent much of the night talking. He left late and promised to look me up in the future.

The phone never stopped ringing. I had to screen each call before I answered it.

Charlene sent me letters.
She knew that I would read them. They were very difficult to read.
They would always bring me to tears.
She would always tell me about how my son missed me and something similar about my daughter.

While at work one day, I was standing at my office window, musing about the future.
I noticed my bishop walk from the parking garage to the door of the building. “Great” I said to myself.

“There is someone here to see you” said the receptionist
on my phone
.

“Ask the bishop what he wants,” I replied

“He says he needs to see you to sign some documents,” she said.

“Please thank him for his time, but I’m not interested,” I said.

I heard her tell him.

“He must see you to have these documents signed,” she said.

I thought it over.
If Dennis got involved, which he would if asked and he would be asked, the situation would get very ugly.

“Can you get the papers from him, bring them back, and I’ll sign them?” I asked her.
I listened to her repeat my request.

“He says that he must give these to you in person,” she replied.

I thought that the church had become more like a government than a church.
I did not want to meet with him.
I really didn’t.
I was getting anxious and I could feel my face flush.

“Please tell the gentleman that if he wants the paper
s
signed, he’ll have to have you run
the packet
back to me for a signature.”

She relayed the information and I heard the bishop finally relent.
Within moments, I had the papers. It was a summons for another church hearing on Sunday. The purpose of the summons was for excommunication proceedings. According to my disfellowship documents, I had until January of the following year. They were four months early. They had moved up the schedule. My body fro
ze as S
quirrel started running her exercise wheel. Round and round and round it went. Squirrel could not stop.

I was looking at a paper, that when signed, would lead to the end of my church membership. It was a staggering thought. You may think that I would have been able to put all that behind me. It was not an easy thing to do. I wondered what would happen if I sent my legal lawyer to the
church
court. The thought may have been funny, but the humor in it fell dead to the floor.

I reluctantly signed the document
s
and the secretary retreated with the
package
to the reception area. I watched through the window as I saw the bishop leave.

The following Sunday, I attended church not with the Mormon court, but with my friends, those who showed me love and compassion. They were very receptive when I told them what was going on.
Pastor Bruce relayed his personal experiences of what he endured when he left the church. His story was not so terribly different than mine.

The wheels of Mormon justice turned. Someone raised a motion. It carried.
And I was now officially a son of perdition.

*****

October first was my son’s birthday. October second was my daughter’s birthday. I called on the first.
“Hi Charlene, can I talk to Jared?” “I’m sorry David but I don’t think that is a good idea,” she replied.

I had been allowed to see my kids
only
once or twice after I moved out.
And I always came as David
.
I took the little guy out to fly a kite.

“Mathew has a dad. Why can’t I have a dad? He said with tears in his little eyes.
”
Mathew was his little neighbor friend.

“I have some medical problems Jared and I need to be away to get well.”

“But I want a dad. Can’t you please come home to live with us daddy?” he blurted out the words
as tears rolled down his cheeks
.

I could not poison his little fragile life with my existence. I honestly believed that it would be best for me to leave and give Charlene a chance for happiness while she was still young. I knew that her opportunities to remarry would diminish significantly as she aged. His probing questions cut my flesh. I could hardly stand it.

We flew the kite for a while. After it was airborne, he started to laugh and giggle as the kite went up and down as he tugged on the line and then let it out. The kite climbed as high as the string allowed. He enjoyed this moment so much. So did I.

After I transitioned at work, all ties had been cut to the kids. I could no longer see them or talk to them on the phone. But this was their birthday celebration! Their birthdays were only one day apart so the extended family only had to come over once.