Da Goddess

Even Stranger

Barbie and Ken (shockingly, those were their real names) and Tess were regular customers at the little pub where I tended bar. We could count on them coming in on Tuesdays and Fridays with regularity, and other times, they'd just drop in unexpectedly. That was fine with us. We liked them.

This threesome went everywhere together. Pub, work, home. Always together. While the romantic relationship existed strictly between Barbie and Ken, Tess was just as much a factor in anything Barbie and Ken did, she was generally accepted as part of "them." You see, Barbie and Ken were blind and Tess was their guide dog.

The couple had met - briefly - at the School for the Blind. Each had been blind since birth and both of their families had sent them off to gain skills useful in the sighted world. They didn't start going out until they'd been out of school for several years. Like I said, their meeting in school was short and somewhat unremarkable. It consisted of one course that lasted for a couple of weeks and one project they'd had to work on together.

Barbie had left school and gone on to work for a defense contractor that manufactured tank parts. She worked in the quality assurance department. As strange as that might sound, she could tell by the weight of any part if it met weight specs. She could tell if the parts were ground properly with a quick sweep of her fingers over the surfaces. She was good. No one else they'd ever employed had been able to do what she did as quickly as she did. She saved the contractor quite a bit of money with her special abilities. And, of course, they benefitted even more by employing her. Barbie didn't care what they liked or didn't like. She enjoyed her job and cherished the freedom that came with earning her own money. It wasn't long before she was making more than her father had when he'd been manager at the local Pontiac dealership. Determined to ease the burden on her family, she had gone to work immediately after graduating from the School for the Blind and quickly settled into an independent life.

Ken, on the other hand, chose to continue his schooling. He went off to college and earned his degree in teaching. His goal was to become a junior high school or high school teacher and inspire his students to achieve great things. He thought his ability to live and work blind in a sighted world would leave kids without excuses for their failures. He moved back home with his mother to help defray expenses. Halfway through his first year of teaching, Ken decided that he couldn't live on the salary he was being paid, ventured into the world of human resources. Guess where he ended up working? That's right. He worked for the tank parts manufacturer where Barbie was employed. His new job allowed him to be more independent again and he found a nice little house not too far from the plant.

Now, it was about two weeks into his job as a pencil pusher that one of his coworkers decided he should meet this "really great gal in QA - she's blind, too, you know." Ken passed. He wasn't much interested in dating - a sighted or unsighted woman - as he'd recently ended a 2 year relationship with someone. His coworker, sure that he'd offended Ken with the "she's blind, too" comment, bent over backwards trying to introduce Ken to all sorts of women - sighted women. Ken turned down all the offers, never bothering to explain the why of his refusal. In a way, he kind of liked that this guy was falling all over himself to get back in Ken's good graces. Not that he was ever out, mind you.

One day, six months later, Barbie injured her hand on a part that hadn't been properly ground. She'd been running her hand over the surface when a rather large burr sliced through her middle and ring finger on her left hand. She felt the immediate sting and the unfamiliar slickness from the profuse bleeding that'd begun. Grabbing a towel, she headed off to the medical office. In her distracted state, she opened the wrong door and walked into HR instead.

Ken heard someone enter the office and asked what he could do to help the visitor.

"You can start by getting me some ice for my fucking hand, that's what you can do," said Barbie.

"Excuse me?"

"Cut the crap. Can't you see I'm bleeding my ass off here?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, no I can't. I'm blind." Ken replied.

Barbie, always one to snap to with a smart comeback was unable to say more than, "Oh great. Fine. Make fun of me. I'm the one who's blind. And, even I can see you're an asshole. Forget the damn ice. Get me the nurse."

"Well, excuuuuse me, Miss Bitch. I'm blind and I can see that you're also an asshole."

Later, they'd laugh over this story of how they met again, 15 years after the first time they'd had a brief introduction at school. Ken did end up helping her in to see the nurse next door and, of course they began dating immediately.

From that first, "you're an asshole" on, they knew they were meant to be.

"Yeah. We know we aren't the typical 'Ken and Barbie' couple that everyone envisions us to be. We've heard it often enough." And Barbie would chime in with a few quips about how having tits like that plastic bimbo would come in a lot handier than a cane.

"My nipples are so sensitive, if I had knockers as big as that bitch, I could come just by bumping into shit. I'd ditch my cane, the dog, and Ken for that kind of action!"

When I met them, they'd been together for 5 years. Living together, not ready for marriage, trying to get by - just like all my other bar patrons.

Barbie was always the more independent and abrasive of the two - could you tell? She also had an infectious laugh when she got going. She was the one who encouraged Ken to get Tess, their golden retriever. When Barbie was out of town, training people at other plants, she wanted Ken to have a companion and helper. He had come to depend on Barbie so much that he was lost whenever she was gone. Tess made a big difference in his life. She was just the friend Ken needed to get through those lonely times and keep him going.

Tess, one of the greatest dogs I've ever known, was just about the kindest animal to walk the earth. She put up with Ken's impatience and irritability when Barbie was gone. She'd put up with the careless and often rough treatment when Barbie was around and really drunk. Ken did, too.

That was the only thing that bothered me about them. I worried about Ken and Tess when Barbie drank. She could get downright abusive when she was toasted. It only happened every couple of months, but it was still too frequent for my liking.

One night in particular, Barbie had way too much to drink. I was behind the bar, trying to get another regular to take one of our friends home. Ray was sober and Jackie wasn't. Jackie didn't want a ride. Ray didn't really want to drive her. Still, I knew that Jackie wouldn't take a cab and......you know the drill. Typical bar drama. I was in the middle of negotiations, almost had the deal closed when

"YOU GODDAMN PUSSY! WHY DON'T YOU GO FUCK THE DOG AND LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE! YOU ALWAYS THINK THAT YOU DESERVE SOME SPECIAL TREATMENT JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE BLIND. WELL, GUESS WHAT, MR. WHINY WIMP - YOU AND YOUR LITTLE PECKER CAN GO TO HELL TONIGHT! MAYBE YOU SHOULD PUT AN END TO ALL YOUR SUFFERING WITH ME AND KILL ME BEFORE I KILL YOUR WHINY ASS."

Everyone in the pub stopped talking. The television chose that moment to lose the satellite signal and go blank. Uncomfortable silence filled the place. Ken was sitting at "their" table, bright red in the face. Barbie was shaking in uncontrolled anger and holding Tess' harness up with one hand, leaving the dog dangling and softly whimpering, and had her beer mug in the other - raised over Ken's head. A couple of the guys at the bar moved over to the table. One moved Ken out of the strike zone and the other grabbed the dog and the bottle. Barbie started shrieking at him and took a few swings.

This wasn't the first outburst. Not by any means. But, it was definitely one of the more disturbing ones. I'd never seen her quite so angry, nor had I seen her that drunk. I asked if they needed a ride home and was told to fuck off. I told her I had a few hours to go before that was possible, but would certainly consider that as an option for later. She laughed. It was a crazy laugh. Not joyful. Just disturbing. And, then she started sobbing. Ken made his way to her and wrapped his arms around her in the most loving embrace one could imagine. She collapsed in his arms and begged his forgiveness.

Ray, who'd managed to get over his aversion to driving anyone home, grabbed Jackie, Barbie, Ken, and Tess and loaded them into his van. I knew that everyone was in good hands with Ray in charge and was relieved when they all left the bar.

I decided that night that whenever I knew Barbie and Ken would be in, I'd wait tables. I had the bar owner schedule me that way. Behind the bar, I couldn't control who took Barbie her drinks or how many. Waiting tables, I could. I'd lose a hefty chunk of my tips being on the floor but I didn't care. I preferred that to the potential mayhem that a drunk Barbie could bring. The owner, grateful that I was mindful of those consequences, would throw in an extra $25 at the end of those nights to help make up for my loss of tips.

Things seemed to calm down for the couple and their dog for a bit. For a few months, it looked like Barbie was making a real effort to cut back on her drinking on her own. She told me that she'd been dealing with "a lot of heavy shit" and, after that last explosion, gone in to see a counselor. She wasn't about to lose Ken, Tess, or anyone else over drinking. She seemed sincere, too. She seemed to smile a little more after telling me that. She even gave me a hug and thanked me for my kindness. There was still an underlying sadness to her eyes, though. I missed her happy laughter and her more outgoing persona.

There were a few other incidents over time, though. None as bad as that one night. Most of us in the pub kept close tabs on her when she was in. It got to the point that we were relieved on those occasions when Ken came in alone, with Tess. He kept reassuring us that things were okay at home, that his lady was seeing the counselor on a regular basis, and that she was focusing more on work of late. He wasn't all that convincing. He was pale and drawn. Dark circles were etched into the skin below his eyes. He looked like he'd aged 20 years over the course of a few months.

Some of the regulars and I were sitting around one night when I wasn't working, playing cards and having a few drinks. The topic of Ken and Barbie came up. We were all concerned with the way things seemed to be going. We all picked a day of the week and vowed to check in on them on that day. Not every single day of the week, just often enough to make sure they were, indeed, okay.

I have to say, the people I knew in that place were some of the most caring and loyal people I've had the pleasure of calling my friends. Everyone looked out for each other. If one person was hurting, he or she could pretty much count on having a good 4 or 5 people sticking close and offering an ear or a shoulder. It was kind of like Cheers, but without Diane.

As consistent as we were with checking on them, things between Barbie and Ken grew more strained. It wasn't really evident until Ken stumbled into the pub one night.

"Have you seen Tess or Barbie?" he asked, gasping.

No one had.

"They've been gone for three days. Well, Barbie's been gone for three. Tess only one. I'm used to Barbie being gone, but not Tess."

Some of the customers gather around Ken and got the particulars. Barbie had been thought to be off at a conference in Idaho, but it turned out that no one there had seen her. Tess, who'd been home with Ken, had disappeared the previous night. Calls were made, people headed out. Barbie and Tess were eventually found at Barbie's dad's cabin in the mountains. She'd blown off the conference and headed up to the cabin. She returned home in the middle of the night and grabbed Tess. She didn't know why, she said. And, she didn't say how she'd been getting around. We later discovered that she had an old boyfriend running her from place to place.

Ken was pretty distraught over the incident. He always was. He forgave her, though. He always did. That scared us more than anything else. He gave in to being treated as a doormat. He had no life without Barbie, except that Tess needed him. Her taking Tess had left him frightened and even more upset. But he went back for more.

They stopped coming into the pub not long after that. Visits seemd to trickle down to nothing. I'd sometimes see them out walking together, the three of them. More often than not, though, I'd see Ken with Tess, kind of wandering without purpose. We all kept calling, but they weren't answering the phone and we'd have to leave messages. My friends and I decided that as long as we saw them out and about, that it would have to be enough proof that things were the Barbie and Ken brand of okay.

You know where this is going, don't you? Yep. One day it dawned on me that I hadn't seen hide nor hair of Barbie or Ken or Tess in over two weeks. I checked with the others. They hadn't seen them either.

Ray and I grabbed a couple of other people and we went over to their house. We rang the doorbell. We heard Tess give a hoarse bark. Ray tried the door. It was unlocked. We debated over whether or not to call the sheriff. One of the guys with us, Karl, went to the neighbor's house and called while the rest of us entered the house.

"Ken? Barbie? Anyone home? Hey there, Tess. That's a good girl." Her fur was matted. The house smelled like crap. We stepped over a couple piles left by the dog. Not a good sign.

Tess grabbed my sleeve and pulled me toward the back of the house. Ray and the other guy followed. I prayed like I'd never prayed before in my life. I wasn't up for finding any bodies. I wanted Karl to come back - with help. I wanted the cops to go see whatever it was that the dog had to show us.

The door to the bedroom was closed. And locked. We pounded on the door. We yelled. Tess yipped and whimpered. She was agitated. She couldn't sit still.

Ray and Johnny, the other guy with us, decided that they weren't waiting for the cops. They slammed into the door and it burst open. Curled into a ball on the bed lay Ken. His eyes were open and focused on something that none of us could see. He was breathing. Shallowly. His clothes and the bed linens were soiled. His lips were dry, cracked, and dried blood was caked at the corners. There was a little blood on the sheets above his head.

We tried talking to him. All that came out was a barely audible moan.

At that point, the sheriff arrived along with an ambulance.

Piecing together what they could, the sheriff determined that Ken and Barbie'd had another fight. The neighbors had reported hearing a fight a couple weeks back, followed by inactivity at the house. Nobody thought anything of it. It'd been happening with increasing frequency (though not a single one of them had checked in on their neighbors.) One neighbor said that they thought they'd heard Tess barking up a storm a few times, usually as they were getting in or out of their car, but it didn't seem odd to them. A dog that never barked....... suddenly barking. Not odd?

Anyway, Ken remembered Barbie getting angry and throwing things around the house. Apparently, something made contact with Ken's head. He remembered Barbie pushing him into the back bedroom and slamming the door. She'd locked it as she slammed it shut, is seemed. Leaving him to fall unconscious, with his head bleeding. He didn't remember crawling onto the bed. He didn't remember when anything had happened. Ken just said he woke up feeling woozy and decided to stay where he was. Who knows how long he'd been that way. Anytime he woke up, he'd remember the fight and Barbie's rage and he'd start crying.

Barbie was in trouble. The sheriff tried the cabin and the old boyfriend with no luck. For a month, there were no leads. Then, a call came in. A motel manager in Greeley reported finding a woman who matched Barbie's description in one of the rooms. Dead. She'd cut her wrists and then stabbed herself with a large hunting knife. The old boyfriend admitted to dropping her off in Fort Collins - alive - and then heading out to Grand Junction and his family.

There was no note. Nothing. No explanation. Her family said she'd always been "troubled" but they didn't anticipate something like that to happen. Not even after hundreds of threats of suicide from her over the years.

Ken didn't respond much - negatively or otherwise - to the news. He just went on. Got up, went to work, back home, out for a walk with Tess. Every now and again, he'd actually stop in the pub and say hello, thanking us for caring enough to save Tess...and him. He'd always put himself last, as if his well-being was an after thought. He was miserable. But, there was nothing we could do. All offers of dinner, baseball or football games, were declined. It felt like he was stopping in and thanking us out of some sense of duty. That was the only contact that he allowed himself or us.

About a year later, I was no longer working at the little neighborhood pub. I never went in to visit either. I was busy with a new job and trying to get myself back into school. There was one night, though, that I just felt like I had to talk to someone. I called my buddy Ray and asked what was new. He said he'd just come home from identifying Tess and Ken's body for the police. Ken had shot Tess and then himself.

Devastated over the loss of Barbie, Ken never really regained his footing in life. He slipped deeper and deeper into despair, cutting everyone out of his life. The sheriff's department had called Ray and Karl after finding Ken's body. Since they were the only ones with the same phone numbers from when we'd found Ken the last time, it was thought that maybe they could give a positive I.D. And, they did.

To this day, it still seems surreal to think that life took such horrible turns for Ken, Barbie, and Tess. I can still smell the house that had been closed up for two or more weeks. The stale urine and feces. Dog and human. I can still hear the whimpering, the moan, the screaming, and, believe it or not, I can still hear the laughter.

Life is strange and sometimes, death is even stranger.

Posted by DaGoddess at January 26, 2004 08:17 AM