Chapter 2

He drove home in a trance. He had no recollection of anything along the way. He had no memory of the traffic lights or stop signs or trucks or changing lanes. None of it registered. He was lost in the jumble of his thoughts. What to do? There was more than himself to think about. Their children, Andrea and Scott. One way or another, whatever he decided, they would be affected. What to do?

He needed time and space, and more than anything he needed to be alone. He couldn't live in his normal environment. He sure as hell couldn't live at home until he knew what he was going to do. By the time he reached his driveway, he had made a decision. It wasn't much, but at least it was something he could act upon.

He parked the car in the garage and closed the big double door. He didn't need nosy neighbors poking around in the next hour or so. He went to the basement and pulled out his suitcase, and took it upstairs. He threw it on the bed and began to pack it with his clothes. He didn't have the patience to fold all the shirts, but he didn't care. He just wanted a good supply of clothes. He wasn't sure how long he would be gone.

By the time he'd packed the suitcase he had everything he thought he would need, including toiletries and medicines. He hauled it downstairs, and lifted it into the trunk of his car. He went to his little office area and collected up all the business materials he could manage, including his laptop, camera, business records, and notebooks. He put them in the car's back seat and went back into the house. He took a sheet of paper from his printer and wrote two words, then folded it in half. He placed it in the middle of the kitchen table and stood there looking at it. Finally, he decided to get Jeanette's undivided attention with a symbol.

He looked around one last time to see if he had forgotten anything important, and then it dawned on him. He was leaving his own home. He had decided to abandon his family. He felt a wave of nausea and rushed to the little powder room in the hall and rid himself of the beer and that wretched sandwich. He did not want anything left from that place of horror. His memories would remain as the permanent souvenir.

He went back to the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of milk. Perhaps it would calm his stomach, and with any luck, his nerves as well. It was time to go. He opened the garage door, backed the car out onto the street, closed the door, and drove away. Brent Gordon had left his family behind, burdened with a sense of shame and drained of optimism. He had no idea what he would do, except he would have to expunge this part of his life. His plans for himself and his family were destroyed and he wondered if he would ever be able to put them back together again.