"Hey, Dawson, boss wants to see you. Jack?"

Jack looked up from his drawing board.

"Hmmm? What?" he asked, not really listening to what was being said to him.

Tim Hawkins, one of his friends from work stood next to him, delivering this message.

"What's wrong with you anyway today, Jack," asked Tim, looking at the pile of crumpled paper around Jack's feet."

"Nothing, Tim, just tired," answered Jack tiredly.

"Sure, Jack, sure," remarked Tim, not sounding convinced. "Well anyway, he wants to see you right away. Better get over there."

Jack stood up and put down his pencil.

"Alright, thanks. I'll go see what he wants."

Jack walked across the noisy news room. The small cubicle that served as Pete Thompson's office was just ahead. In all the months that Jack had worked for the Denver paper, his boss had never bothered him. There was just the occasional hi or a comment that he liked Jack's work.

"Wonder what he wants, and today of all days," thought Jack to himself.

Jack paused for a minute to be sure his shirt was tucked in and then he pushed his hair off his face. The door was open, but Jack knocked anyway. Pete Thompson sat at his desk and seemed pre occupied with something that he was writing. Without looking at Jack, he motioned for him to sit down.

When he was done, Pete looked up and glared at Jack.

"Alright, Dawson," he growled. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean sir?" asked Jack, somewhat confused. He had been minding his business all day and making some progress with his work.

"You know damn well what I am talking about. You're my best artist, my best worker. You've never given me any problems. Then you show up this morning and your eyes are bloodshot. You've got on the clothes you wore yesterday and they smell like you washed them in whiskey. Now what gives?" said Pete throwing his pen across his desk, frustrated with Jack.

Jack looked down and didn't answer at first.

"It's of a personal nature. It, it won't happen again, Mr. Thompson," answered Jack quietly.

"Damn right it won't happen again, Jack, or you are through here," he shouted.

Jack folded his hands together and stared at the floor. How much worse could it get? First this thing with Rose and now because of that, his job was on the line.

Pete studied Jack. He seemed like a quiet and sensitive individual and he was well liked by his fellow workers, but the guy was obviously not going to volunteer any information.

"I'll have to drag it out of him. This is not like Jack. Gotta be something with his wife," thought Pete, who genuinely cared for his employees, despite his sometimes gruff remarks.

"Want to talk about it, son," said Pete in a more fatherly tone.

Jack knew there was no getting out of this one. He shifted around in the
uncomfortable wooden chair.

He looked up at Mr. Thompson and could see the concern in his face.

"Alright. I had a fight with Rose. We both said some terrible things. I left. Then, then I got drunk. That's it," answered Jack sadly.

"Isn't your wife expecting?"

Jack just nodded.

Pete closed him eyes for a minute as if to think of what to say.

"Listen, son, take it from me. Women, when they get like that, well, they act kind of strange. They're uncomfortable, tired and they think they look awful. Sometimes they just can't help what they say," Pete explained.

"She told me to leave, to get out. She blamed me, well, for the baby," sighed Jack.

Pete smiled sympathetically.

"I've got six kids. And I went through this the first couple of times. Then I learned. Just kind of ignore things. It'll all blow over. You'll see."

Jack shook his head.

"You make it sound so simple. I told her that marrying her was a big mistake. How can I ever take that back?" asked Jack, letting his head fall into his hands.

"Listen, Jack, go finish your work and then leave whenever you want. Go get her something. Maybe some flowers, or stop and get some dinner at that little Chinese place. Lum's isn't that it? Do something that will make her feel all romantic."

Jack was following his words closely.

"You don't know Rose, sir. She can be so headstrong and stubborn. It won't work."

"You have to try. But believe me, I know what I am talking about," continued Mr. Thompson patiently. "It might take her a few minutes to come around. I can almost guarantee you that she has been scared to death since you left. She'll be so glad to see you. Just wait and see."

"Well, I'll try," said Jack skeptically.

Pete nodded his head.

"That a boy, Jack. Take if from an old man like me. This will work."

Pete reached out to shake Jack's hand. As he turned to leave Jack said, "Thanks for understanding and for the advice."

Pete watched as Jack made his way through the crowded news room.

Then he chuckled to himself, "Love! Gets ya every time."