Reg Darling
meetings. At home that evening, I walked out of a raging, tear-flooded argument with Bea and returned late and drunk. She left the next morning on a six-day vacation with a group of friends. When the director returned, he summoned my supervisor, Mike, and me to his office. Mike said, “I had a unit meeting and ordered all my people to refuse work assignments from that fat, fucking piece of shit.” The director sighed and said, “I’ll take care of it.” Though there was little doubt that I was contractually right and that Calder had attempted to assign work punitively, it was equally transparent that I had deliberately provoked him. Calder was ordered to conduct all performance or behavior related conferences with courtesy and respect, in the privacy of his office and to channel any intake work that couldn’t be handled by the intake unit through his fellow supervisors. My self-righteousness faded with my anger. April 30, 1979: Bea started in on me within minutes of her return last night. I had been working slowly and lazily, but well, in the studio all day and suddenly I was stuck in hurt silence and a knotted stomach. I had no words that haven’t been said too many times already, and part of me was still stuck in the world of paint and color, so I sat in sullen sighed silence and waited for her to finish her tears and retire. Then I rolled a joint and painted on. This morning, I rose early to watch dawning light spill over the eastern hills until it was time to bathe and breakfast before driving to the office an hour late because I forgot about setting the clocks ahead for Daylight Savings Time. Now it’s four-thirty, I can’t get myself to do any more work, and there are case records piled all over my desk. Jake came into the Philipsburg office, sat down in front of my desk, and said, “Mr. Darling, I want to get my nuts cut off.” “Why is that, Jake?” “Don’t want nothing to do with women no more and I figure if I get my nuts cut off all that energy will go into strength, just like a young pig.” “Did you talk to your doctor about that?” “Yeah, he wouldn’t do it. You know what I think? I think he’s a goddamned Catholic!” “Has anything changed in your situation that you need to tell me about?” “I threw my wife out.” “Any chance you’ll get back together?” “No! Never. I caught her in bed with my best friend’s wife. I should never have married
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