Now with the ultimate collapse of Hatchet’s world still eight years away, he quit the school and found a promising job with a start-up company owned by a former high school buddy. The divorce proceedings solidified what would remain for him a lifelong hatred for lawyers and courts. After reading the details of state control over visitation with his daughter then losing his breath, he pleaded with Allison for a more palatable outside agreement. She offered access to Olivia everyday if he wanted it. And he did. The only stipulation being that his time spent with her had to be at her parent’s home, now hers as well. He agreed, knowing that she offered this arrangement in an attempt to have complete supervision over him.
What he hadn’t recognized was her failure to shed her addiction to his presence in her sphere. An ever-shrinking sphere. She had shunned her few and already tenuous friendships. She and her mother had always been the only people who could ever live up to either of their definitions of a friend. Even her sister fell short of the elite relationship Allison and their mother had designed over the years. The wild card in this game was Olivia. Olivia’s existence denied Allison the luxury of being ignorant of Marcus’ every detail.
She felt compelled to posses them.
His new full time employment offered him resurrection. Heliopolis and eggs of myrrh filled with the ashes of his old self populated his dreams. The potential reward for joining such a young business in an industry basking in the spotlight of so much mass media granted the word “reward” boundless new meaning. He taught himself everything. He could design solar arrays and the power systems needed to energize homes. He could calculate the best configurations of battery banks and their storage capabilities and he built the insulated boxes to house them. He could place wind charger towers for optimum efficiency. He learned how to install the parts and pieces of the machines on homes and businesses of all shapes and sizes and special circumstances. He learned the complex wiring schemes of stand-alone systems and the simplicity of grid interactive inverters. He mastered correct electrical fusing. He learned to sell the equipment over the phone, through the Internet and catalogs. He learned to design the web sites that sold the equipment. He learned to design the most effective magazine advertisements for selling the equipment. He drove forklifts and filled out complicated shipping forms. He found ways to sell the equipment in regions and countries where he wasn’t supposed to sell them. He instructed buyers on how to do their own installations over the phone, email, and by text message. He sold energy efficient light bulbs, dishwashers, refrigerators, ceiling fans, solar attic fans, solar bathroom exhaust fans. He sold composting toilets. He sold yurts and teepees. He sold freeze-dried food and crank radios and thousands of LED light bulbs and solar modules worn by dogs on hiking trips to charge cell phones and laptops. He filled shipping container after shipping container with solar modules of every wattage and every voltage. He flew to New York and California to supervise the shipping of thousands of modules and apparatuses to places all over the world.
Year after year, he did it all and he did it for little pay. He sacrificed himself for the shiny promise manifest in the numbers of people who attended the trade shows and the conventions and called him on the phone and trusted his judgment and took his advice and believed every word he told them. He made friends of people he had never seen in person, some he never would. His voice, his record of reliability, and his non-stop tenacity to overcome obstacles brought people back to him and kept his name on their lips.
Marcus, his old friend and boss said, you help me get this thing in the air and we’ll stay there. I’ll guarantee you that. You keep those people happy, tell them whatever they need to hear to keep the money from walking out the door and I’ll make it happen. We’re all going home fat. You look tired. You’ve been working your ass off, bro. Have you slept? Well, go home and get some rest. I need you fresh tomorrow. The new ad looks amazing by the way. Hey, don’t let me forget about Austin tomorrow. Did you talk to Panama today? You should probably do that before you leave. Don’t let me forget tomorrow… Austin.
I won’t let you forget, Randall.
What he hadn’t recognized was her failure to shed her addiction to his presence in her sphere. An ever-shrinking sphere. She had shunned her few and already tenuous friendships. She and her mother had always been the only people who could ever live up to either of their definitions of a friend. Even her sister fell short of the elite relationship Allison and their mother had designed over the years. The wild card in this game was Olivia. Olivia’s existence denied Allison the luxury of being ignorant of Marcus’ every detail.
She felt compelled to posses them.
His new full time employment offered him resurrection. Heliopolis and eggs of myrrh filled with the ashes of his old self populated his dreams. The potential reward for joining such a young business in an industry basking in the spotlight of so much mass media granted the word “reward” boundless new meaning. He taught himself everything. He could design solar arrays and the power systems needed to energize homes. He could calculate the best configurations of battery banks and their storage capabilities and he built the insulated boxes to house them. He could place wind charger towers for optimum efficiency. He learned how to install the parts and pieces of the machines on homes and businesses of all shapes and sizes and special circumstances. He learned the complex wiring schemes of stand-alone systems and the simplicity of grid interactive inverters. He mastered correct electrical fusing. He learned to sell the equipment over the phone, through the Internet and catalogs. He learned to design the web sites that sold the equipment. He learned to design the most effective magazine advertisements for selling the equipment. He drove forklifts and filled out complicated shipping forms. He found ways to sell the equipment in regions and countries where he wasn’t supposed to sell them. He instructed buyers on how to do their own installations over the phone, email, and by text message. He sold energy efficient light bulbs, dishwashers, refrigerators, ceiling fans, solar attic fans, solar bathroom exhaust fans. He sold composting toilets. He sold yurts and teepees. He sold freeze-dried food and crank radios and thousands of LED light bulbs and solar modules worn by dogs on hiking trips to charge cell phones and laptops. He filled shipping container after shipping container with solar modules of every wattage and every voltage. He flew to New York and California to supervise the shipping of thousands of modules and apparatuses to places all over the world.
Year after year, he did it all and he did it for little pay. He sacrificed himself for the shiny promise manifest in the numbers of people who attended the trade shows and the conventions and called him on the phone and trusted his judgment and took his advice and believed every word he told them. He made friends of people he had never seen in person, some he never would. His voice, his record of reliability, and his non-stop tenacity to overcome obstacles brought people back to him and kept his name on their lips.
Marcus, his old friend and boss said, you help me get this thing in the air and we’ll stay there. I’ll guarantee you that. You keep those people happy, tell them whatever they need to hear to keep the money from walking out the door and I’ll make it happen. We’re all going home fat. You look tired. You’ve been working your ass off, bro. Have you slept? Well, go home and get some rest. I need you fresh tomorrow. The new ad looks amazing by the way. Hey, don’t let me forget about Austin tomorrow. Did you talk to Panama today? You should probably do that before you leave. Don’t let me forget tomorrow… Austin.
I won’t let you forget, Randall.
Edit 11.4.2018