{"id":7771,"date":"2017-12-16T18:56:17","date_gmt":"2017-12-17T01:56:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/?page_id=7771"},"modified":"2017-12-16T18:56:17","modified_gmt":"2017-12-17T01:56:17","slug":"references","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/?page_id=7771","title":{"rendered":"References"},"content":{"rendered":"

Jason Peck<\/strong><\/p>\n

 
\n <\/p>\n

The background specialist called a dozen people this morning, his Rolodex spinning like a saw blade. But he saved this woman\u2019s interview for last. In hushed tones he tells her that she alone knows the character of Stephen Pusateri, a potential hire for the specialist\u2019s client.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I haven\u2019t seen Steve in twenty-five years,\u201d the woman protests over the phone.<\/p>\n

From the specialist\u2019s well-maintained desk, a file eight inches high. At his right hand, three pens — blue for positive news, black for neutral, red for negative. He switches pens mid-sentence with a dexterity that terrifies his co-workers. He alphabetizes to the sixth letter.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re a different kind of agency,\u201d the specialist says. \u201cMost companies contact the three references provided by the applicant. We catch candidates off guard by contacting everyone but<\/em> those three.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not sure,\u201d she hesitates, and the specialist hears the muffling sound of a phone pressed to cheek. \u201cThe cuts still bleed.\u201d<\/p>\n

But the specialist never doubts her compliance. He holds her file as well; her children are in school for another three hours. Her husband usually cancels their Tuesday lunch date. Plenty of time.<\/p>\n

\u201cSteve broke my heart,\u201d the woman says, her bitter voice in desperate need of a mournful soundtrack. \u201cI wasted no time, told him no lies. I kissed his cheek in shadowy corners, my hand squeezed his in forbidden seconds. I asked him for marriage. After uncountable moments he gave me his answer — \u2018OK.\u2019 Never had two letters sounded so sweet.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut his fa\u00e7ade soon cracked,\u201d the specialist says, \u201clike the crust on a cr\u00e8me br\u00fbl\u00e9e.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMore like the ice of a frozen pond in spring,\u201d the woman corrects him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI saw his impish eyes from across the room,\u201d she continues. \u201cI caught his smoldering, tormented interior growing beyond his control. Bursting from its barriers, in retrospect. And then the double life emerged.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood, good,\u201d the specialist says, blue pen a blur.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe had a blond on the side,\u201d she says. \u201cA redhead, too. A virtual collector of women, accumulated without concern. I wept and confronted him. I reminded him of our marriage pledge, but these others — the goddamned harlots — had begged as well, and each in turn secured the pledge reserved for me: \u2018OK.\u2019 Still I embraced this would-be bigamist before he dismissed me with a shrug of the shoulders that shattered my young heart.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd how old were you?\u201d the specialist asks. Switch to red.<\/p>\n

\u201cFour,\u201d she responds. \u201cThen we graduated from St. Aloysius Preschool. He moved away for kindergarten, on to other conquests. Miss Kowalski pulled me aside in class and said he\u2019d write. But no letters. Not to this day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot a one?\u201d the specialist asks. He thinks of her as a young girl, crying in the church pews with a heart crushed to powder. The specialist would have observed the scene, had he attended the same class as the woman, his notepad tattooed in black ink. Since childhood — always noting the longing stares passed between couples, cataloguing the graceful arc of a classmate\u2019s football pass, making inventories of the cliques and circles of others — lifelong friendships growing solid like cement.<\/p>\n

An education, he claims. As an observer, he learned the moving parts of people.<\/p>\n

\u201cHave you ever experienced such heartbreak?\u201d the woman asks him.<\/p>\n

He sets the pen aside. He searches for a moment in his own life where love was strong enough to hurt him. He wonders if he himself can boast of a transgression-free background — intentional or otherwise — that the lives in his files cannot.<\/p>\n

He instead thinks of his desk. Of his three colored pens. The job usually deflects such personal questions. But now his cue escapes him.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d the specialist responds with perfect honesty. He takes a breath. \u201cBut please — remember the interview\u2019s real purpose.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s good you\u2019re thorough,\u201d she says. \u201cPeople think their actions don\u2019t matter, they can plow through regardless of consequence. But these little things do<\/em> matter, don\u2019t they?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes they do,\u201d the specialist says. \u201cIt\u2019s my life\u2019s work to find the answers.\u201d<\/p>\n

He thanks her and hangs up. A sliver of Steve\u2019s file moves from inbox to outbox. The folder\u2019s still thicker than the specialist\u2019s fist.<\/p>\n

Time to dig again, back to the clues that really count.<\/p>\n

He flips his fingers through what\u2019s left — Steve\u2019s transcripts from a graduate school that\u2019s not Ivy League, but grows the vines. Executive reports, sworn deposition from a man whose popsicle stick castle Pusateri destroyed in a jealous rage. The winning entry in a sixth-grade anti-drug poster contest — negated six years later by the discovery of marijuana. Goals never adhered to, opportunities never pursued. What to say of the subject?<\/p>\n

The man hides somewhere in here, the specialist thinks, looking toward his papers. I\u2019ll find him sooner or later.<\/p>\n

 
\n 
\n 
\n <\/p>\n

JASON PECK<\/strong>\u2019s fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in Smokelong Quarterly<\/em>, Cheat River Review<\/em>, Bartleby Snopes<\/em> and 100 Word Story<\/em>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Jason Peck     The background specialist called a dozen people this morning, his Rolodex spinning like a saw blade. But he saved this woman\u2019s interview for last. In hushed tones he tells her that she alone knows the character … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"parent":7766,"menu_order":4,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-7771","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/P15duy-21l","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/7771","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=7771"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/7771\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7788,"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/7771\/revisions\/7788"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/7766"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=7771"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}