Into the office walked Tucker, the well-educated, temperamental engineer, on the first day of his eight week deadline, a gig taken only because an old military friend was in a bind. Heads turned. The mature, distinguished Inspector inevitably drew everyone's attention. Standing in front of the open area, Tucker looked about him for the office marked INSPECTIONS. At that moment, Eric Holsom stepped out of his office into the open area. Tucker nodded to acknowledge the E-7's presence. E-7 Holsom was a big man, balding with a shaved head, in great shape with a manly face, not that of the star, but of the sidekick, the pal, the first baseman, the port in the storm, the Rock of Gibraltar. He was military through and through, or so it seemed. The façade was convincing, but not in Tucker's presence. Holsom perceived Tucker with an instant toxicity; Tucker felt an almost palpable dislike shoot through him as if he had been lanced. However, when Holsom spoke, he was deferential, respectful, and compliant. Tucker blew off the rush of negativity as a territorial intrusion, and proceeded with the project at hand.
At the end of the first week, Holsom composed the final report.
On Monday morning, Tucker sat in front of his computer and opened the Weekly Report that Holsom had written. Tucker was used to reading some really, really rough stuff in the field ... descriptions that were all over the place, execrable grammar and spelling... With his just filled coffee cup in his left hand, he moved the mouse. The file opened. Switching the coffee to his right hand, he leaned back in the chair and started reading.
Tucker was dumbfounded. Holsom wrote like a Hemingway. The writing was neat, well ordered, clear, unambiguous, grammatically correct; in two words, elegant and refined. From this tall baseball player built E-7 with supreme spit and polish comes prose that borders on the poetic. Tucker was not ready for that revelation. When his thoughts came back to the project and the site visit that was going to occur in about an hour, he noticed that the cup of coffee was empty.
In the second week, Holsom's behavior began to make Tucker start to think that the burst of fear he first experienced had been dismissed a bit too lightly. There was nothing Tucker could put his finger on, but he knew that something was going on behind the scenes. Holsom had taken his military distance to the extreme. Whereas his prose may have been poetic, his behavior had become obsequious. It was as if Holsom not only wanted to keep Tucker at bay, but he also wanted Tucker as far away from him as he could get.
Finally, in the third week, with the tension building between them, Tucker decided to have a talk with Holsom to iron out a relationship that had to last only a little over a month.
Both of the men are in the office while the rest of the employees have gone to lunch.
Tucker begins: "I've asked you for this time because there are some things I'd like to say. First of all, we're both adults and we are going to be working together for ... What... another five weeks. We can endure anything for five weeks. The point is why do we have to? I want to add, although I haven't said anything about it before, I have a really high opinion of your writing skills. You describe some of the least human things about a particular installation and it reads like a Hemingway short story. Your mind is like a steel trap. Once you see something, it's yours forever. And you are learning all the time. People are your teachers. I am your teacher, perhaps... but I am a teacher you are on the run from... and if it will make a difference over the next five weeks, I'd like to know... at least... what it is that's going on that's making you want me out of your life. And, don't even bother trying to deny the way you act around me, the way you perceive me... is so obvious... I mean it's like you have a calendar inside your desk with my departure date on it... and you're marking off each day. When someone's got that kind of an attitude when I've done nothing to deserve it, I want to know what's going on.
To which, Holsom replies: I think you think you know something is going on... and nothing is going on. May I give you an example? When you were 19, a redhead with heart shaped lips, broke your heart. At 27, you meet a beautiful redhead with heart shaped lips... who you have to work beside day by day for eight weeks. You remember every detail of the break up that happened years ago. You remember her voice. And this girl makes you remember the worst part of your life. Isn't it only natural to want to avoid her if she brings up unpleasant memories?
Tucker: So I bring up unpleasant memories. I remind you of someone in your past that got to you and got to you bad. O. K. I get it. All I ask is that I am not that other person whoever he was. I don't know what he did to you and why you hold such feelings inside you. But just don't see him when you see me. Now that I know it's not me, but I am someone who reminds you of someone else... at least we understand each other. So I will regard your distance not as a negative thing, but as a sort of knee jerk response to a similar stimulus. Pavlov wins in the end... conditioning. And, by the way, don't we have a site inspection this afternoon?
Holsom: Yes, sir, we do.
Although there was now a crack in the ice of the coldness between them, the crack was in only a small part of a glacier... in other words, meaningless. Tucker continued to be amazed, that even after their talk, the beautiful reports continued to be written and the borders between Holsom and him were still as wide as they had been except for some early morning pleasantries and end-of-day well wishes.
In the 7th week, Holsom and Tucker found themselves out of town in the middle of small town nowhere on a homecoming weekend. They were lucky to find one room with two double beds at the last moment, and they got the room because there had been a last minute cancellation. Tucker had a plan. The two men went to dinner, and Tucker brought back to the room with him a bottle of Jack Daniels. With the ice machine down the hall and two glasses in the bathroom, there were the makings of a party. At first, Holsom declined and then acceded to "just one."
An upper tier music channel supplied a non-threatening atmosphere.
With half the bottle consumed between them, Tucker turns the conversation to the man he represents to Holsom.
Tucker: Fuck, man. You're a huge ole lug of a guy... with a literary gift some bestselling authors wish they had. What did this guy do to you? Did he fuck you? Did he beat you? Did he betray you? Did he bleed you dry? Did he inject you with drugs and turn you out on the streets?
Holsom: You think I'm drunk enough at this point to talk all that shit.
Tucker: All I know is that's there's been an undercurrent between us. You think I'm trying to come on to you.
Holsom: Well, aren't you? Is that honest enough for you?
Tucker: When I'm in the field, I'm totally professional.
Holsom: Is this professional? Getting me sloshed enough to let you get into my life?
