03 Jul Little Difficulties

“We all have days where we have to face the very worst—whether it’s work we don’t want to be at or some task we don’t want to accomplish. But life is short. Take all those little difficulties in stride, and ensure each one is the best damn moment you can make it, and you’ll find all the joy life has to offer.”

This was the kind of “positive therapy” Jake Harris had to put up with now, thanks to his neighbor, Kyle Briggs, who was going through a messy divorce, had a TikTok channel, and had somehow managed to garner a devoted following.

Kyle and Pauline had never had a good marriage. When Jake and Tammy moved in next door, the couple had smiled and shaken hands, but all it took was one broken window and a pan flying through it to ensure that everyone knew it was a rocky arrangement.

Jake and Tammy, on the other hand, had no more bitter or pleasant moments than they assumed anybody else had. If anything, their five-year marriage could best be described as boring. They were still young, both working professionals, perhaps a few years away from starting a family, still relying on their parents for minor things like plumbing issues or gardening advice. They still found time to fool around after binge-watching a few television shows at night before waking up groggy and grabbing coffees on the way to work. They sat on the floor eating takeout if they’d forgotten to wash the dishes, and talked about how they were going to make the lawn really nice this year before shrugging and running over piles of clover with the lawnmower yet again.

Then, one night, Pauline got in the car, suitcases in tow, and drove off. It was not back the next day, or the day after. And when Kyle finally walked outside, it was Tammy who asked what had happened.

Jake didn’t catch the whole conversation—watching as he was from the window, trying his best not to be seen—but Tammy filled him in. Pauline had left. They weren’t going to argue about who got what; she just wanted out. All that was really needed was for the paperwork to be signed.

A few days later, her car came back, with another very expensive one parking behind it—her lawyer, most likely. The cars sat outside for a while. Jake didn’t really want to snoop, but he couldn’t help watching to see if there would be more shouting or stuff being thrown. As scary as it was when it was happening, he also kind of missed it; it made the neighborhood just a touch more exciting.

The cars were there all day, but gone by the next morning. After that, Kyle retreated. They only saw him occasionally, appearing on his front porch or watering plants in the backyard.

Then the TikToks started.

Tammy wasn’t friends with him on Facebook, but she liked to snoop around and watch people anyway. Jake couldn’t see the fuss in doing it, but when she showed him the video, he did raise an eyebrow. Kyle online was vastly different from the Kyle they knew—the shuffling, quiet man who barely left the house.

He was all action: quick edits, talking about positivity, becoming your best self, focusing on the little things in life and making them better. Along with it, he started showcasing his newfound hobby: little artistic hors d’oeuvre plates.

It was the perfect place to show off his talent—a talent Jake and Tammy never knew he had. Perhaps during his marriage, he’d never really had time to do the gourmet cooking he’d always wanted. But what he created required determination and skill. Little crackers piled with stuff Jake only heard about in cooking shows and online videos: arugula leaves, diced prosciutto, crostini crackers. He even had those little pastry icing bags—but filled with soft cheeses and creams—and he’d layer them on top of his creations.

Jake had to admit, as weird a hobby as it was to develop out of nowhere, Kyle was very good at it. Based on the view counts, he was gaining popularity.

“That’s right, folks. Look at what you can do when you put your mind to it! It looks difficult, and… well, it is difficult. Working in miniature is never easy, but it’s not really about ease. You have to work for it. Being happy in life is not about focusing on the big picture, the end goal, the millions of dollars… It’s about what you can do right now. You work, what, 8 hours a day? 10? You go home, watch TV, and fall asleep, right? What kind of life is that, to hate your job so much and take all the joy out of your life? Be present, be in the moment, enjoy every second of every day. I mean, look at this. This, here? This little cracker? This took me 45 minutes to make, and I will eat it in ten seconds. But I poured my heart into those 45 minutes, and those ten seconds of enjoyment will have made them all worth it.”

He expanded from there. It was always some kind of little food dish, though they became more elaborate and artistic. It was amazing what he could do. Tammy was glued to it, subscribing to his channel. He never stopped making the videos—at least one a day, sometimes two or three—and as he described what he was making (a pond with cracker ducks and bacon water, a scale model of the Guggenheim with dessert whips and a small ham slice as a garnish), he kept reciting his little philosophy.

Oddly enough, whenever Jake was outside and saw him, Kyle never really acknowledged him. He would give a little friendly wave, but he never chatted, never showed the kind of confidence he did in the videos. He just tended the new tree he’d planted in the backyard, neatened the garden, and went back inside.

He never seemed to leave the house, except for maybe the occasional shopping trip.

Tammy shrugged at this. “You see his follower count? They’re probably sending him a pretty good check for all the videos he’s making. He probably makes more than we do.”

Jake, on hearing this, looked out the window. “Yeah, but what’s he spending it on? Think he’s trying to mount a ‘wrongful divorce’ lawsuit or something?”

“Those don’t exist. Maybe he’s just saving up for something big.”

As it turned out, he was. But even then, Jake couldn’t identify what it was. A truck pulled up to Kyle’s house, and out of the back were unloaded pallets of metallic doors, or walls, or something. It was clearly part of something larger, because then a construction crew came in to do work, spending a few days outside and then finishing up.

They would find out a few days later what it was all about.

“Hey, folks! Check it out! Thanks to all you generous souls out there, I’ve put together my dream freezer! Now I can buy in bulk and showcase even more for you, my wonderful audience! Stay positive, and as always, be looking to overcome all the little difficulties!”

And he was as good as his word. More videos. More dishes. More elaborate creations, growing both in size and complexity. It was remarkable what he was able to create. And the more he created, the less it became about eating the food and more about the presentation of what he was making.

It was food in the shape of art.

Tammy became obsessed, waiting to see each and every new creation. But Jake… Jake started to pull away, less interested in the videos.

He went to work, his purchased coffee in hand, staring at the computer screen in his cubicle. They must have been the only place left on Earth that still used CRT monitors, and it showed—as the screen flicked and shook with every small footstep that went by, or hand slapping down on the table.

Jake looked around his cubicle, which he’d been in for two years now. He filled out spreadsheets and jotted down numbers for a living. He had sort of sleepwalked through it after six months on the job, but now he loathed it. There were no openings above him, no training available to do anything else. He was stuck.

He’d never be able to afford the things he and Tammy really wanted. And now, all she wanted was kitchen stuff so she could try and make the things Kyle was making. She wasn’t bad at it, but her stuff wasn’t quite the same, and she was getting self-conscious about whether it was her skill or if she just didn’t have the right tools to do it properly.

He started to grow jealous of Kyle’s success—how he’d taken such a horrible event in his life and turned it around so much that he never had to see the inside of an office building again.

He would come home on the weekends and run the lawnmower, only seeing the clover in the yard, never the healthy grass, and feel a twisting in his gut at how awful the yard looked, and how the neighbors had to feel seeing it all the time.

Then Kyle started hosting seminars locally. The public library hosted him. Tammy insisted they go and support their neighbor, but Jake didn’t want to. He didn’t speak to them when he saw them across the way, so how would he feel if he showed up?

At least, that’s the answer Jake gave—but it wasn’t what he was really thinking.

Tammy eventually insisted one too many times, and Jake finally agreed.

He was the only husband in attendance. The rest were either wives like Tammy, singles of all kinds looking for a date, local influencers hoping to connect, or bored-looking staff members, there to maintain the peace.

It was no different than his videos, just live, with more instruction, and the never-ending stream of positive thought.  He’d even turned his thoughts into a catchphrase.

“Remember, folks—what do we need to be thankful for?”

“Little difficulties!”

He’d grin and continue.

When they got home, Jake just sat on the couch, watching TV, while Tammy looked at him from the doorway to the kitchen.

“Jake, why aren’t you doing anything?”

“Do I have to be? Why does everything have to do anything?”

“Look, I know we’re not bad off or anything… but you’ve just looked so unhappy lately. Don’t you want to do something about it?”

“Sure, I’ll start my own TikTok and whittle little owls and say ‘Life is a big hoot!’ or something. That sound like a good idea?”

Tammy sighed and rolled her eyes. “You know, if you don’t want to go to Kyle’s shows or watch the videos, fine. But for Pete’s sake, maybe you should try thinking a little more positively. Being like this? It’s not healthy. You’re not happy, and we all can tell.”

“All right, then.” He switched off the TV, scratched his unshaven chin, and tossed the remote onto the couch. “I’ll get right on that, just as soon as I find something worth doing.”

“Good. Well, maybe try doing something about the lawn. You’re always talking about how it needs work.”

The next night, Jake bought some weed killer on his way back from the office and sprayed down the yard with it, still wearing his work clothes while he did so.

The next morning, he woke up and saw the whole yard—grass and all—had turned brown, everything sad and withered. He went to the garage to look at the bottle he’d purchased.

Warning: Non-Selective Herbicide. Spray on unwanted weeds only.

He didn’t even realize they still made weed killers that killed… well, everything—and sold them in stores. His stomach knotted, realizing he had just murdered his entire lawn by accident.

He sat at work, still feeling the sting, even as he got text after text from Tammy:

What happened to the lawn?
Is everything okay?
Why aren’t you answering?
What is going on with you?
Do you have a problem with me all of a sudden?

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t concentrate. It was all just numbers on a spreadsheet.

He came home, and Tammy gave him a look when he came through the door. He couldn’t tell if she was mad or concerned. In all honesty, he didn’t care. He said nothing, changed out of his clothes, took a quick shower, then stood at the back room window, looking out at the dead yard.

When she asked him what was really going on, he quietly ordered DoorDash for the both of them. He got her something she liked; he didn’t even notice what he typed in for himself.

Over the next few days, he still didn’t try to talk about anything. He just got up, went to work, and returned home. He wasn’t angry, and she didn’t yell. They just didn’t talk. It became its own little routine, even though all he felt was a tension between them.

He would quietly eat dinner, and she would turn on videos from Kyle and slide her phone between them.

“Just a little bit more positivity, folks! Overcome all the little difficulties and see the beauty in every mo—”

He would reach over, hit the pause button, and then take his meal into another room.

It was a Thursday when he came home and saw the Post-it on the refrigerator.

Jake,
I really don’t know why this has come over you, but you need to find something to help you get through it. I’m over at Kyle’s—he’s doing an in-home seminar for his stuff. Please come. Please find the little beautiful moments.
Love you,
Tammy

Kyle. Running seminars.

He went out to his backyard, standing in the brown grass. How crunchy it was now. It was hot, even this late in the evening, and he took a few steps, feeling the dead plants under his feet—weeds and all—bend and crinkle.

He looked down.

Still growing through all that dirt and debris was a bit of clover.

Even in the midst of all this death, the damn weeds still found a way.

He gritted his teeth. He went back into the kitchen, opened a drawer, and pulled out the first thing he got his hands on.

A barbecue fork. Not too dangerous, but enough to make a point. It would be, what, a few months? A year? He didn’t know—but surely, a man trying to protect his wife from some influential scumbag wouldn’t net him too big a sentence.

He stepped out onto his porch and slammed the door behind him. He stomped across the street, his suit jacket flapping around him. With more anger than he ever believed he had, he kicked the door open.

There was Kyle in the kitchen, down the hall, turning to look in surprise. Sitting across the counter was Tammy.

And Jake saw what he was doing.

He ran into the kitchen and knocked Kyle across the table. He slammed his neighbor’s head into the counter—once, twice—before jabbing the fork into his side.

Tammy was screaming and crying, but her screams were muted.

Kyle pulled a knife to defend himself, but Jake turned the blade aside, pressing it down onto the kitchen counter and bending Kyle’s fingers back until he heard the crack of breaking bone.

With his other hand, he slapped the fork, driving it further and further in—no longer concerned about jail time, or anything of the sort.

Kyle fell to the ground, a gurgle rising in his throat, searching for something—anything—to keep Jake off of him. But Jake kicked him in the ribs, knocking him over, and then stomped on him several times, feeling ribs snap.

Then Kyle reached into a cupboard nearby. He pulled something small and black from next to a garbage can. He raised it up—and there was a click and burst of flame.

Jake felt something tear through his shoulder, flinging him back against the counter. Through the pain, he grabbed at something, feeling the heavy, engraved charcuterie board that showed up in all of Kyle’s videos, and lifted it over his head.

He heard Kyle scream out in surprise and fear before he brought it down—over and over again—until Kyle stopped moving.

He leaned back against the counter, feeling Kyle’s limp foot still twitching against his own. He took a moment to catch his breath, then turned to Tammy.

Tammy, with tears in her eyes, filled with wonder, shock, and disbelief.

He picked up the knife from where Kyle had dropped it, moved to her, and cut the ropes holding her to the chair. Then he helped her remove the gag from her mouth.

She fell against him, arms wrapped around his neck, the small slice of skin missing from her arm leaving a wet mark on his suit jacket.

He picked her up—despite the burning pain in his arm—and carried her to the front door.

At that moment, Jake didn’t know very much. He wouldn’t know about the bodies of Pauline and her lawyer that lay in the super freezer in the basement, thin slices of flesh torn from them—bit by bit—over the course of months.

He wouldn’t know about the shovel Kyle had used to brain them both in a fit of rage, not wanting to give up on their marriage without a fight.

He wouldn’t know about their laptops, still in the house from when they’d arrived to sign the official divorce papers—where Kyle had been writing fake emails of an affair back and forth between them, to throw suspicion as to why they had disappeared without a trace.

Jake wouldn’t know about the lake where Kyle had driven their cars and dumped them. And he certainly wouldn’t have felt the glee Kyle had felt when he found a much more compelling manner of disposing of the bodies than simply wrapping them in plastic bags or dissolving them in acid.

Just as she had eaten away at him metaphorically for so long, so he would do to her—literally. And for the art of it, he’d show the world. Show them all that he could find the blessings in the hand the world had dealt him.

No, Jake knew none of this.

As he carried Tammy out the door, all he knew was that he had been right to think of Kyle as some kind of creep—and that, for the first time in his life, he had begun to appreciate Tammy in a way he never had before.

It truly was the little difficulties that kept life interesting.