Criminal

Crime scene photographs fascinated Walter. They spoke eloquent truths about life at large. Each photo he saw was about more than just the crime. Each contained fine details of illegal wants, genuine passions, silent furies. Crime photographs spoke of the people involved and of all people in general. They spoke of each individual  place and of all places. Ten photos from ten different crimes usually came to the same conclusion: most people kept sloppy homes when company wasn’t expected. Most people coveted impractical objects. Most cars at any given time needed a wash. Only the evil die smiling. Crime is an activity of the self-absorbed.

Walter’s wife cheated on him. That was OK with Walter. He also cheated, though less frequently, more out of boredom than lust or revenge. His indiscretions were not one night stands, but usually just regular dates with women he had met who didn’t care that he was married. Sometimes these trysts became honest friendships, though they always ended, usually because the woman wanted more or wanted less or wanted nothing. That was OK with Walter, too.

He and his wife were good parents, dutiful parents. In many ways too they were good spouses, attentive friends who teamed up well to solve problems with family or school or the neighborhood. Confidantes who could discuss any issue so long as it didn’t include their marriage. They worked together to maintain a good home, to teach their children good life lessons, to support each other in professional pursuits. They were friends. They just were too selfish to really care about the other’s feelings.

Walter  ate out at least once a day. As a result he attained a comfortable girth in his waistline by the time he was 35, and he wore this comfort with pride. A sign of his prosperity. Others were fat. He was prosperous. But at 40 he felt a need to lose weight so he joined a gym. He did the treadmill. He learned the secrets and rewards of free weights at the hands of an in-house expert (slightly “prosperous” himself). He occasionally swam laps in their over-chlorinated pool. He endured the benefits of aerobic exercise and took stretch courses to help his regimen. Walter was disciplined and went at precise intervals guaranteeing three sessions a week. He worked up a sweat that felt good and honest, and learned the sublime joys of a post-workout shower. He dutifully weighed himself after each session, unashamedly climbing naked and with damp hair onto the ancient doctor’s scale. After five years of this he stopped. He had gained 10 pounds.

Days were spent at work (what Walter did was unimportant. He worked alone, only periodically speaking with his superior though always chatting with co-workers about anything other than work. Such is the nature of our jobs. They are all unimportant, because, ultimately, we are all unimportant). Nights were spent watching TV or surfing on the computer. Occasionally he would play with his son, challenge him to a video game or help his daughter with homework. He would make elaborate snacks because dinner was usually skipped in his house, and if it wasn’t, he’d leave dinner hungry anyway, his wife being a terrible cook. Walter never drank alcohol or smoked or indulged in anything elicit. He often fell asleep on the couch and would wake up the next morning, not having moved all night.

In his car, Walter sometimes wept. The act was silent and profound, and always affected him, though he never knew where his tears came from. Sometimes at work, he would make crank phone calls, elaborately thought out and full of contempt for the other person on the line. The calls filled Walter with great mirth. Why he made these calls was also a mystery to him.

Walter always urinated in the shower but once felt so guilty, he scrubbed the tiles after finishing. He never went to church but sometimes wondered if he had lost entrance into heaven because of it. He kissed his wife every night before sleep and every morning upon waking up, but he never kissed her when they made love. He had a cat and cried bitterly when it was hit by a car. He thought it was quite natural to tell his son that he was a disappointment as a little leaguer. Walter feared death, but also fought bouts of depression and lately he wished he were dead. Walter took blood pressure medicine and had a checkup annually.

One day, in early June, an unexpected storm brought much needed rain. Water hitting the roof woke him early that day and he was very tired while he did nothing at work. At dinner, his wife was with her lover and he sat silently with the kids as they picked at the meal he had prepared, chicken and capers, grilled vegetables on the side, and mashed potatoes. When they were finally asleep, Walter went to the computer and looked up crime-scene photos on the Internet. They fascinated him. Each one spoke a truth, told a story that was larger than just the crime. He wondered if his wife loved her lover and if she would leave Walter for him. After some significant consideration, he realized she did not, that she would not. The rain continued for the rest of the week, and soon after, the heat of summer took hold, making life unbearable and deepening the city’s drought.