The folk who read review my stuff continually surprise me. As I wrote the first chpt. I expected a lot of sympathy for Kim and Ron, stuck in a place where the only way they could be together was--to put it frankly--for Ron to cheat on Bonnie. I figured the readers would feel like Kim and Ron were somehow destined to be together. I thought they would excuse Ron for his cheating because Bonnie was comatose. I tried to make it plain that he wouldn't have done such a thing while Bonnie was conscious. I tried to spin the story so that the grief he felt for both his wife and his old love interest would maybe justify his actions and make the readers sympathize with him and Kim. I was not prepared for the sympathy my reviewers had for Bonnie.
I figured my task as a writer was to bridge the gap between the peoples' natural sympathy for Kim and Ron, and my natural stringent moral standards (me being a Born-Again Bible Thumper--see my Fanfic-dot-net profile). I was struggling how to portray Ron and Kim as going through a certain penance to satisfy those moral and ethical standards. It appears that as least a few of my readers are harder on Kim and Ron than I am. Without sounding too holier-than-thou, this pleases and encourages me.
I always hope that people can follow the narrative stream. It's tempting to do the fancy thing of jumping back and forth in the plotline and gradually unveil the events, like real-live novelists do--but one must keep it readable. Let's recap.
Kim and Ron drifted apart after the Junior Prom (season 3 finale of the show). Josh Mankey drifted back in. Kim and Josh married and had a son, Jon. Josh proved to be an unfaithful husband. He moved out of their house and their lives. He took up a bohemian lifestyle.
Bonnie Rockwaller married Brick Flagg and had a daughter, Frankie--short for Frances. Brick died (more to come). Bonnie remarried, to Ron. They had twins, Kim and Mim. Then Bonnie went into a coma.
Mr. Dr. P died, leaving Mrs. Dr. P. a widow.
Kim, Wade Load, and Felix Renton started the Renton-Load Foundation. (More to come.) Ron is a caterer.
Kim tried to comfort Ron during Bonnie's coma, and things took off. They have found their love reawakened.
--And Bonnie is about to reawaken.
And I write this from a new perspective. A year ago I was recovering from cancer. I am now facing divorce---because, like Mr. Dr. P in the story, I couldn't distinguish the costly sacrifice from the priceless goal. May God guide my life.
A TIME FOR TENDERNESS chpt. 2
Kim and Ron became a couple. Romance. Where, when, and how was no mystery. It was the night of their Junior Prom. It happened in the presence of the Middleton Junior Class Prom.
Why they broke up was harder to define, both for them and their friends.
Perhaps it began in their first year of college. No longer in the sheltered cocoon of high school, the gap in their scholastic abilities began to grow. And in the anonymity of college, with its social and study demands, more rigorous than high school, Kim could simply not give Ron the time and help she used to. Despite their best intentions, they began to drift apart.
Each felt it.
And James Timothy Possible, the well-intentioned but perhaps misguided father, poured a steady stream of encouragement into his Kimmie-cub's ear. "Remember--anything is possible for a Possible--" And he began to add a note of regretful advice. "--But not everything is helpful. Sometimes to achieve what we were meant for, we have to take stock--and whatever--or whoever--hinders us--well, let me put it this way. Sometimes achieving a priceless goal requires a costly sacrifice. But as we draw closer to the golden glow of our goal will make the costly sacrifice seem pale by comparison."
Ironically, Ron was feeling the same thing: that Kim was capable of great achievement--and not being weighed down with him would make her journey much easier--because he wished for her fulfillment more than his happiness. And so he gradually backed away.
Kim felt the twin pressure. The quiet but persistent advice of her father--and the gradual but unmistakable drift apart of herself and her true love. In quiet but acute desperation, she sought comfort in a platonic friendship with an old acquaintance--Josh Mankey.
Her father was delighted. Despite his mellow demeanor, Josh was much more the highly motivated self-starter than Ron was. And her true love was devastated. Because each believed in appearances--Kim was drawing closer to a former love.
And Kim also believed in appearances. She could not guess why Ron was slipping away without an obvious reason. But it must be the unthinkable--he was falling out of love with her.
And because neither knew quite how to breach the slowly rising wall between them, what was appearance became reality. Ron deserted her and Josh moved in to salvage her heart.
And so, for whatever reason, Kim and Ron broke up. That much is fact.
But even as Kim and Ron could not pierce the cloak of silence that each had clothed themselves in, Mr. Dr. P kept his own secret--a developing aneurysm-which only his wife, the neurosurgeon, knew about.
And he refused treatment--or at least postponed it. He wanted to be present for his Kimmie-cub in her life-crisis, and would not take the time to have the life-saving operation. There would be plenty of opportunity once things were settled in his daughter's life.
And he wanted to maintain the appearance in his daughter's eyes of the strong father--that anything is possible for a Possible--even outliving a cranial aneurysm.
But the silent killer struck one day. And too late the grieving daughter and sons heard the tragic secret from the grieving widow.
And Kim was left to reflect bitterly at her father's graveside. "You told me that sometimes the priceless goal requires the costly sacrifice, Daddy. But you didn't tell me that sometimes the golden glow is just fool's gold--or that the costly sacrifice should have been the priceless goal instead. You didn't tell me that too many people mix the two things up."
And the final absurd irony: Josh Mankey, the accomplished and talented artist with the lovely wife and equally talented son, left his family and career to pursue an endless succession of mistresses and produce and endless succession of hack pieces of art.
And Ron Stoppable, the under-motivated community college graduate, who was called "Buffoon" by his Team Possible adversaries and "Mascot" by Kim's chief rival and chief tormentor, applied his food prep major and business minor. He opened Middleton's most popular catering service--and married his former chief tormentor, Bonnie Flagg, suddenly widowed by tragic circumstances.
That much is fact.
No one was quite sure how the inspiration for the Renton-Load Foundation came about.
Perhaps it was when Wade Load noticed how easily insider trading, identity theft, and embezzlement of company assets could be accomplished by computers. The dishonest got richer and hard-working got shafted.
And so he decided to put his own computing talents to work for those who had the talents but not the resources.
Perhaps it was when Felix Renton reflected on how fortunate he was. He was disabled and the son of a single mother. Statistically, he and his mother should have been living in poverty, bankrupted by an ever mounting pile of medical expenses. Instead, his mother's tireless efforts at acquiring an education for herself and providing for her son, as well as his own high tech abilities had enabled them not only to live comfortably, but to contribute the betterment of other disabled, and even to be an occasional pinch-hitter for Team Possible on their world-saving missions.
And so, as others had been advocates for the disabled, he decided to give back and become an advocate for visionary but underfunded inventors, like the computer geeks who had built personal computers and were now billionaires, who had transformed the world through the internet.
Perhaps it was when Kim had both a doctorate in business administration and a master's degree in law. She could now be called Dr. Possible, just like her parents, she thought wryly.
Having applied her acrobatic and martial artistic abilities to the defeat of crime and the rescue of those in danger while in Team Possible and in association with global Justice, it was only natural she should apply her business acumen and legal knowledge to the defeat of international corporate theft of intellectual property and the defense of small high tech firms against harassment by the large corporations.
--Or perhaps it could have been as small a thing as Dr Drakken building machinery of mind-boggling technology, and watching him blow up lair after lair, because of some small flaw in the machinery, that usually could have been corrected by a tiny part or adjustment that he just didn't have the funds for.
Whatever the reason, they combined to form the Renton-Load Foundation, dedicated to providing the small inventors with technical, legal, and funding assistance. Kim was tireless in her efforts to raise funds and obtain grants from the well-endowed. That much is fact.
It had been the month from hell. A Chinese manufacturing company, employing unethical means, had stolen the plans for a microchip that would reduce download and processing time for wireless internet data by half, and were mass-producing it in their own factories. They had hired agents to infiltrate the small hard-and-software producing operation located in Denver.
Kim engaged in her own legal but slightly unethical evidence-gathering mission. Working like it was a Team Possible mission, she infiltrated the offices of the Chinese company. She found the money trail between the company and the agents. And she persuaded Global Justice that the Chinese company had not only broken the law regarding copyrights, but had violated an international trade agreement--and was adapting the microchip to use for a guidance system for cruise missiles, possibly to sell to rogue terrorist nations. (Kim had concocted that last part herself--and was proud of it.)
And a software giant in this country had accused a smaller software company of copyright infringement--based on the allegation the smaller company's spreadsheet program had similar features to the large company's spreadsheet program. The smaller company's program sold for less and was more user-friendly. It was a way for the larger company to eliminate the competition's underpriced produce.
That had been a tough one to crack. Wade had spent many hours studying lines of code to prove that the similarity was accidental. And Kim, presenting her legal brief, had argued successfully in the smaller company's favor, obtaining testimony from various accounting firms that the larger company's product was actually inferior.
Yes, it had been the month from hell. And Kim felt entitled to her upcoming weekend with Ron. A whole two and a half days. She had earned it.
Ron sighed. It had been the week from hell. Well, not quite that bad. Just that the schedule was like running in a hamster wheel. Since mid-week, Ron had been fighting like mad to keep from dropping in his tracks with sheer exhaustion.
Ron's Kosher Katering had never been so busy. It was easily the most popular catering service in the Tri-City area. All the local synagogues hired him for their weddings, funerals, and Bar Mitzvahs. His Team Possible reputation didn't hurt his business.
His tagline read: We Kater To The Kosher Krowd. And Oy! We Even Serve The Goy!
It made Frankie--and even Kim, afar in Denver--cringe. But Bonnie was proud of him, and Frankie was invaluable as his assistant, when not in class or doing homework.
And through it all, he managed to visit his comatose wife every night--except on his nights with Kim.
He owed his sanity to Kim--and their love affair.
There were no bookings for the coming weekend--very unusual for his business. But Ron was ready for a quiet couple days. And he was looking forward to his upcoming weekend with Kim, a couple weeks away.
But he got a phone call that night.
"Dad," said Frankie, "It's Nan' 'Nette." The kids had their own nickname for Mrs. Dr. P. "Nana Annette", or "Nan' "Nette" for short.
Kim had called her grandmother Em Possible "Nana". Kim's son Jon continued the tradition with her mother, Annette Possible.
When James Timothy Possible died at much too young an age, Ron Stoppable had risen to the occasion. Even though they had married other people, his K.P. would always have a place in his heart that no other person could ever usurp.
He comforted Kim and mourned with her. He had dearly loved his second father, Mr. Dr. P. And he comforted and mourned with Mrs. Dr. P.
Ron's children became as precious to her as if they were Kim's children. Especially the twins, Kim and Mim Stoppable. They filled the loneliness left by her husband's absence.
To them it was only natural. There was Gramma Flagg. And Gramma Rockwaller. And Gramma Possible. It was so cute. No one took the time to explain the mistake. And the twins would have not understood.
They were puzzled when they heard Jon Stoppable call his Gramma "Nana". But they looked up to him like an older brother, so they followed his example. It was "Nana Possible".
Ron tried to correct them. But Annette would have none of it. She loved it. And "Nana Possible" soon became "Nana Annette"--or "Nan' 'Nette" for short.
Frankie Flagg followed suit. Her Gramma Rockwaller was a poor daffy woman who doted on her other two daughters. Gramma Flagg had become a recluse since Brick's death. Gramma Stoppable had passed away. So Nan' 'Nette was her only real grandmother figure.
So, in the eyes of all the Flagg daughters, their mother's surgeon was not Annette Possible MD. It was Nan' 'Nette.
Ron took the phone. "Mrs. Dr. P! What's the sitch?" He persisted in the old way of talking with her.
Annette sounded sober. "Ron. It's good news and bad news. Bonnie is awake. But the rest of what I have to say has to be face to face."
Ron was dizzy. He felt exhilarated. His wife. The mother of his daughters. Revived. Out of coma. And, God forgive him, he felt crushed. In the same thought of Bonnie was also the thought of Kim. "Frankie," he said quietly, "Nan' 'Nette says that Mom's awake. Help me get Kim and Mim ready. We're all going to the hospital."
Frankie was stunned. With joy and apprehension. Her beloved mother, back from the dead. But she suspected about Kim and Ron.
It did not faze her. She loved her Aunt Kim. Frankie had watched her step-father killing himself with neglect when the coma began. She saw the sudden change in him after the night Aunt Kim had come to visit Mom. And both her mother and birth father had told her the stories, the legendary missions and the legendary friendship of Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable.
And Frankie knew Ron genuinely loved her mother. And since her mother was comatose, perhaps permanently, she could rationalize the affair.
Bonnie had also been candid with her daughter about her own sordid past. "Hon, you need to know--in case you ever hear any old stories. Your mom was a slut. A skank. A ho-bag. And your mom thanks God every day for a second chance--and for your father--and for our little golden-haired angel"
It was asking a great deal of a young girl's maturity, to endure such soul-baring. But she could see her aunts--her mother's older sisters. And she could understand how far her mother had come in turning her life around.
So Frankie could understand--and accept--much.
Ron and the girls rushed to Tri-City Medical Center.
Annette Possible, MD--or Mrs. Dr. P.--or Nan' 'Nette--and they all loved her, no matter what they called her--met Ron and his daughters at the entrance of the Intensive Care Unit. She took Ron aside and gave him the full news. And he understood the full import.
Bonnie was pale--her cheeks were sunken. She sat up, supported by pillows. But her smile was radiant.
It was like Christmas for the twins. "Mommy! Mommy!" Nan' "Nette had to take them to the waiting room and play games with them.
Frankie sobbed silently, her head leaning on her mother's bosom.
"Oh, hon," said Bonnie, stroking Frankie's hair, "Your mom's come back to her golden-haired angel."
Bonnie grasped her husband's hand with a weak grip. She smiled up at him--his tear-streaked face and eyes full of love and torment.
"I love you," he whispered hoarsely.
"Come here, Mascot," said Bonnie, calling her husband's now dear nickname. "Dr. Possible told you everything? The good and the bad?"
Ron nodded.
Bonnie closed her eyes in a spasm of pain.
"Babe! Be careful!" said Ron. "Don't exert yourself too much!"
Bonnie's eyes opened again. Her gaze was clear. "There's something I want you to do. A special favor."
"Anything," said Ron.
"I want you to promise--on all you hold dear. On the Torah. On your great-grandfather Jon's spirit--the one who loved Mim Possible. Something I want you to tell our friend--my sister--Kim--."
The next day, Kim called Mrs. Dr. P. "Mom, I'll be coming to town in a couple weeks. Josh is on a tropical retreat with a new partner and, as he says, 'can't be bothered babysitting'. I could trust Jon alone, but he's so jazzed about seeing Middleton, and my brothers, and his Nana--could you take him for a weekend?"
Annette was glad. "Kimmie, you know I love having Jon visit."
"Thanks, Mom. You rock, as I used to say."
"Will you be seeing Ron, Kimmie?"
Kim became quiet. "Yes, Mom. Your daughter is doing the thing that neither you or I am very proud of."
"I know what this relationship means to you, Kim. Just be prepared."
"I try, Mom. I've found that happiness is often a fleeting thing. I think I'll even drop in on Bonnie--and I know how cold that looks--the 'Other Woman' visiting the man's wife in intensive care--but I'm genuinely concerned about her."
"Well--as I said, Kimmie, just be prepared." Her mother had sounded strangely evasive.
Kim booked their usual room. She had planned something special. She wore a silken green babydoll teddy with short puffy off-the-shoulder sleeves and green bikini panties. She put on her neck a choker made of a round green jade on a green ribbon. In her hair, she wore a green ribbon tied in a bow. They all set off the green in her eyes. And over her ensemble she wore the usual trenchcoat.
Kim looked to forward to playing "Their Game" with Ron, their make-believe bondage. She tried to remember how it began. It must have been that night their affair began.
They made love on the floor. The food was untouched. They feasted on each other, like victims of famine. And when they had consummated their act, and lay panting among her strewn clothes and his towel, he lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the spacious shower. Half in fun, like two kids having their first sexual experience, and half in somber seriousness, like newlyweds sealing their marriage vows with the physical union, they made love again under the hot spray. He gently pinned her wrists against the wall, and entered her again and again.
He was Kim's tender captor. She was Ron's helpless captive. He held her arms above her head as lightly as one might hold a flower. She was trapped between the tile wall and his muscular chest. "Ron--please," she gasped during the orgasm. Was it part of the make-believe, the captive begging to be released, or was it the unbearable bliss of the orgasm that she begged to continue? She felt like her body would explode.
Oh, Ron--I surrender--you conquered me--please stop--please don't stop--show me no mercy!
Did Kim just think the words? Or did she babble them? Was she even intelligible? It was unbearably intense--the most erotic moment of her life.
Yes--it must have been that night. Kim--the white collar warrior, the hyperactive multi-tasking type A corporate executive had been gently taken hostage. Maybe she could convince Ron to conquer his reluctance to tying her up. She could cross her arms behind her back, and then have him reach around her and grasp her wrists while he was embracing her.
Kim had prepared a bag of supplies. Green ribbon--for Ron to "tie her up with". Peppermint fragrance. Mint-flavored body gel. Green heart-shaped mint candies. A small bottle of green champagne. White satin boxer shorts--with green hearts--for Ron to wear--if he wanted to.
Maybe he would tie her up to the bedpost or the door knob with her hands behind her--or tie her up with her hands above her--in the shower stall? If Kim could talk Ron into getting into tying her up, then she would leave it to him where he would do it. Maybe she could prevail on him to tie her up spread-eagle to the bed...
An emotional rush like orgasm overcame her for a moment.
Girl, get a hold of yourself. Wait until he's actually here before you start your meltdown.
Kim smiled to herself. She used to exhort Ron to get his "head in the game." Her head was too much in the game--"Their Game", as they called it.
A knock on the door. It opened and Ron entered.
Kim smiled her most enticing smile.
But something was wrong. Ron wasn't encircling her waist with his arms. Or nuzzling her neck. Or doing any of the other little intimacies she was used to. He wasn't playing "Their Game".
"Ron?" She turned and smiled at him. And her smile slowly faded. Ron was staring at her with a terrible longing in his eyes.
Ron took it all in a glance. The babydoll teddy. The green bow in her hair--it set off her green eyes perfectly. His nose caught a whiff of the "hint of mint". Kim had obviously prepared herself for something special--probably green satin undergarments. He swallowed. His heart caught in his throat. Invisible claws dug deep in his chest.
What he was about to tell her would shatter her happiness--and rupture their relationship--beyond mending. "I came to say good-bye."
She blinked in confusion. "What? I don't--did something come up? Was it bad timing? Something with Frankie? Or the twins?"
"I wanted to see you--one last time."
Numbly, Kim repeated the words. "One--last--time. Ron--did Frankie find out?"
Ron said the words slowly, with stark finality. "Bonnie woke up."
Kim whirled around and stared in shock. "Bonnie? Awake? Oh, Ron!"
Ron entered the room and quietly closed the door. He hung his head while Kim stared. He bit his lip. And sighed. He started to mumble, but faltered. And sighed again. He had something important to say, and he had to say it plainly.
Kim was a bundle of nerves. She wanted to jump off a bridge rather than hear what Ron was about to say--whatever he would say. And she wanted to shake him by the shoulders. It was taking him too long to say it. But she saw that he needed time to find just the right words.
Ron wept. "Two weeks ago. I don't know what to do, Kim. The kids are out of their minds with excitement. 'Mommie's awake! Mommie's awake! They keep saying."
Kim asked hesitantly, "H-how is she?"
He curled his fists and laughed a bitter chuckle. "That's the damnable part. Her brain tumor was shrinking when she went comatose. She was in remission for all that time. And just when she comes awake, that frikin' cancer comes back."
Kim felt like the world was turning upside down. "Oh, Ron."
"Your mom confirms it. Bonnie has only a couple months." He turned to face Kim with eyes hollow with torture. "And here's the kicker. She knows about you and me."
Kim's mouth dropped open. "Wha--h--how?"
"Yeah. Bonnie tells me she was aware all the time. Like some out-of-body thing. She could tell when people were in the room. And she could tell when we were together."
Kim's knuckles turned white as her hands knotted into fists. "Ron--for two weeks she was awake--we planned today four weeks ago--why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you call? Why did you let me come today?"
Ron put his fists to his temples. "I wanted one last time to see you--a good-bye." He swallowed. "I deserve your hatred, Kim." And he turned his face again toward her, and his mouth contorted with sorrow. "But Bonnie says--she says--don't stop--seeing you--she wants us to be together--after she--" and he gritted his teeth at the last word "--dies." He covered his face with his hands and broke into sobbing.
Kim felt deceived--cheated--by Ron, by fate, by her own desires. She didn't know whether to hug or slap him. She self-consciously drew her trenchcoat closed.
Ron's sobs slowly faded. He blew his nose and avoided Kim's glare. "Bonnie told me she wants to talk to you--even if it's for one last time."
Kim was incensed. She began going around the room, packing her belongings at a furious pace. "I'm going to get my son from Mom's house, Ron. Maybe I'll see your wife. Maybe I'll never bother coming back to Middleton--except for her funeral--or Mom's funeral--maybe even yours."
"I'm sorry, Kim," said Ron in a hollow voice.
"No! You don't get off that easily, Ron Stoppable! This flimsy excuse about being considerate of your wife! It doesn't carry any weight!"
Ron was silent. He only looked at Kim with agony-filled eyes.
"You never told me! I don't care what she told you! It's me! It's us! There have never been secrets between us when it's been about us!"
Kim was acting irrational, thought Ron. But, hell, he deserved her anger. May as well let himself be her safety valve. It was the last time he would ever see her while they were all alone, and he wanted to prolong it, even if it was to receive the heat of her anger.
She stopped packing, and stood with hands on hips, glaring at him. "You led me on! You let me hope--and anticipate! As far as I'm concerned, you treated me worst in the past five minutes than Josh treated me in the past fifteen years. D'you believe in afterlife, Ron? Since we're both adulterers, we'll probably end up in Hell--so I'll just say it--you can f*cking go to Hell--and I'll see you there."
Ron sat down on the bed between them. He dared to reach a hand to her. "Kim--!"
She recoiled. "No! Don't touch me--ever again! It's just like Josh--although I should be grateful that you're not a complete bastard. You just came here to see me for one last time--you didn't try to get me laid for old time's sake. And you're going back to your wife."
Kim picked up the phone, called the desk, and curtly cancelled the remaining two days of her reservation. And when she hung up the phone with a slam, she glared at Ron again. "Wonderful. If this hotel weren't so discreet, there would probably be paparazzi in the lounge. 'Kimberly Ann Possible-Mankey, C.E.O. of the Renton-Load Foundation, seen leaving hotel dressed in trenchcoat. A love-nest rendezvous with her former partner? Story continued on page five!' Just what my son and your daughters need to see--the local tabloid headlines!"
She left the room without a backward glance at lonely figure curled up on the bed.
The luggage was flung into the trunk. The car pulled out of the hotel parking lot with a squeal of tires. Kim would never trust another man again--except her son--and who knew how he might treat his wife someday, with his father's example to guide him?
The thoughts washed over her as she drove on. For two weeks she had been looking forward to her night with Ron. But in the background was always the haunting fear that life would bite her in the ass. Because she and her best friend-dash lover were cheating on her other friend--her lover's wife.
And look what happened. The irony. For the same two weeks, her friend was already awake. Without Kim realizing it, Fate was already preparing the sucker punch that would shatter her heart.
Ron could've told her. It was typical Ron-ness. Avoid the confrontation. Duck the responsibility. She tried to remember that he kept quiet because his wife had asked him to--so he said. It didn't matter. Kim felt how she felt. And Ron was the closest person around to blame, so she blamed him.
That was typical Kim-ness. Overreact, have a temper blowout, bite, chew, and spit the other person out.
In vain she tried to remind herself that her husband Josh had cheated dozens of times, with not a shred of guilt. It didn't matter. Her conscience felt how it felt.
Kim had to turn her car into an alley.
"Josh left me long before he moved out. He was into his little co-ed models soon after Jon was born. I know you feel like you're cheating on Bonnie. But I'm going to pray that I alone will bear the guilt. God help me, I was starving. And I think I can live the rest of my life content, knowing that our love hasn't died, and never will."
Her own words echoed in her mind. The realization hit her full in the face. For the rest of her life, she would not see the love-light in Ron's eyes, or feel his arms around her, or hear him call her 'K.P.' again--ever. Last night, she had no idea how the events of this day would have unfolded.
Kim stopped her car. She folded her arms over the steering wheel and buried her face. Bitter tears sprang from her eyes. She wept--deep wracking sobs.
A tapping sound--like on a pane of glass. Where was she? Kim opened her eyes. This thing in front of her--she had been leaning against it. The steering wheel of her car. Her back ached. Her neck ached. Her arms and legs were numb. Was it the same day? The next day? Had she spent all night in the car?
The tap on the window. "Dr. Possible-Mankey? Kim Possible?" It was a patrolman. A cop on the beat. Smiling. An old familiar face. "Fancy seeing you out here. Everything okay?"
Kim rubbed the sleep from her eyes and brushed back her hair. She would have been humiliated for any other person to find her in a parked car in an alley, dressed in a trenchcoat. But this was not any other person. She opened the driver's side window. "Lieut. Hobble? Thomas Hobble?"
He grinned. "Kim Possible. As I live and breathe. I haven't seen you since the night we picked up Drakken and his bunch at Bueno Nacho Headquarters."
Kim stuck her hand through the window and offered it. They shook hands warmly. "That was a long time ago. I read about your promotion to lieutenant." She looked at him sideways. "But--if you don't mind my asking--what brings you out here? I would think that only a patrolman would find himself out in this alley--."
Officer Hobble grinned. "Meet the Middleton's P.D.'s oldest beat cop."
Kim's mouth gapped open. "Thomas Hobble! You could have commanded a precinct by now! Who demoted you?"
"I demoted myself. I was like a horse put out to pasture behind the desk. Now I spend some time behind the wheel, and some time pounding the pavement."
Kim looked at him askance. "Subjecting yourself to the stress of a patrol? What does your family say? Your friends?"
His smile broadened. "They shake their head in disbelief. They think I'm regressing. Age related issues. But I look at it this way. It takes wisdom to know what your place is in life. A man's got to do what he's best at--what he's cut out to do. Otherwise, he's never fulfilled." Officer Hobble winked and waved. "I'll be going. You take care, now, Kim Possible. And don't fall asleep in your car in the alley. It makes people think that you're at the end of your rope--that you're no longer the girl--or woman--who can do anything."
Officer Hobble waved with his baton and strolled up to the sidewalk, whistling cheerily.
Kim was dumbstruck. She felt like she had just received a profound life-lesson. Thomas Hobble had sounded as wise as Sensei.
She had certainly taken a wrong turn at life's corner with Josh Mankey--even though she now had a most amazing son.
Becoming the C.E.O. for the Renton-Load Foundation? No, that had been a right thing to do. She made use of her scholastic skills, as her father would have wished. She graduated with honors. Then she applied her talents to an organization that was dedicated to helping struggling inventors--those who had the mind and drive of her brothers and her father, but not the access to the means to pursue their dream. And there was also the debt of love and gratitude to her friend and tech support guru, Wade, for all the support he had given her during the Team Possible years.
But had she taken a wrong turn on giving up missions? And, most of all, had she just taken a wrong turn with Ron? And in the rational light of the morning after, she could see she had committed a colossal mistake--even a worst one that marrying Josh.
Oh, God, she asked herself, would there be even the slightest chance of making it right with Ron--even as a best friend?
Back in the hotel room, the day before--
Kim's anger had been enough to make Ron feel like the skin was burned off his bones. But the look of hurt and betrayal. The look of shattered trust in her eyes. It seared itself into his mind. It would never depart from his memory.
Ron slowly pulled the door shut behind him. The faint click of the lock sounded like the finality .
That was one hotel room he would never see the inside of again--like Kim's heart.
He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and punched the quick dial. "Hello, Manny? You awake? Got some time? That thing you said would happen with Kim and I has happened. Yeah, I can be right over. Thanks. You're a lifesaver."
Manny was Rabbi Immanuel Katz. Temple Beth-El's rabbi. Ron's rabbi for more than thirty years. Ron's circumcision was his first official function. Bar Mitzvah.
He was not Orthodox, but he looked it. A deeply devout man, with his perpetual yarmulke, his thick beard flowing down to his chest. The beard had gone from deep brown to silver.
The two men were fast friends. Rabbi Katz had told Ron soon after he married Bonnie, "Ron, you're a grown man. You're a friend. My friends call me 'Manny'. I insist on it."
And so Ron went to see Rabbi Katz. "I did what you said, Manny--the right thing--I told Kim. And she reacted like you said she would. She went nuclear. Accused me of treating her worst than Josh did. Never wants to see me again."
Rabbi Katz nodded. He knew when to keep silent. Ron needed to be listened to.
"I don't get it, Manny! I'm not half the hyper prick douche baggage bastard that Josh Mankey is. How can he sleep at night? And why do I feel so awful?"
Rabbi Katz smiled. Ron had not lost his gift for inventive phrases. "Well, let's see if I have it right. There are several things going on here. First, your guilt at cheating on Bonnie, and then breaking Kim's heart. Second, your resentment at Josh for cheating on his wife in a worst way than you cheated on your wife--and getting way with it--or at least not feeling guilty about it. Third, although you don't mention it. your regret that life didn't turn out for you and Kim. And maybe even some indignation at God for allowing all of the above. Sound right?"
Ron nodded. "Sounds good."
"Let me take a minute, and try to get straight everything I want to say," said Rabbi Katz. He folded his hands and looked at the ceiling. "Well, here goes--."
to be continued