Post by karkatvantas on Apr 24, 2011 13:10:40 GMT -5
The story is mostly SFW, with a few swear words here and there. Mind, there's no adult content. It's 10 pages long, and I decided to attach it for fear that it'd be entirely too long, plus formatting issues.
It's somewhat rough around the edges, taken from my early days in the Creative Writing program at my university, and I didn't particularly feel like polishing it (I was lazy...)
Regardless, I hope you all enjoy, as I had fun writing it, years ago.
(Here it is, pasted in my post, since the attachment doesn't seem to work correctly.)
Beans
“Alright, John, $25.13 today.” Eddy surveys my groceries. He looks like he expects to find a snake in one of the coffee cans. Or like I’m buying something other than coffee today. I have a can of premium coffee for my house, and some cheaper coffee for the office. We all take turns buying the coffee, but everyone has an unspoken agreement to buy the same brand. It’s not the most expensive, but I like it. It’s not my favorite, but it is good. I tried buying it for home one week, when I was low on cash. That was a mistake. It’s an office only coffee. I find that the different flavors in coffee apply themselves better in certain situations.
Eddy interrupts my life narration. “You sure do like coffee. Man, you come in here at least once a week and spend lots of money on it. Are you a secret super hero who uses coffee as fuel?”
I laugh, and reply, “No, I just like coffee. Actually, I love it.”
I swipe my card, feeling the click of the magnetic sensor slink its electrically generated tongue across the strip. I don’t know why, but I like that. No one really knows why I like coffee so much, either. One of my ex-girlfriends forced me to see a shrink about it, but that was pointless. The doctor said it may have come from my relationship with my parents, but after learning about my relationships with my parents, he counted that out. I may be crazy, but my parents have nothing to do with it.
I grab my cans and head out the door. On my way out, I bump into a pretty lady. She’s got her mind somewhere else. I can tell, because I do the same thing. Her eyes are kinda glazed over, like she’s not here. When I stop, I see how pretty she really is. Oh, wow. I stop, and gawk awkwardly for a few seconds. Finally, I get the nerve to say something.
“Oh, sorry. Are you okay?”
She looks at me. She seems to be a bit creeped out because I stared. “I’m fine. Sorry” She shuffles off quickly, avoiding me.
Guilt creeps its way up my intestines, nestling uncomfortably in my stomach. Somehow I never got over that awkward stage when I was a teenager. I search my pockets for my iPod and headphones. I do this a lot when I’m embarrassed. When I get back to my apartment, I find that a slip of paper has stowed away in my bag. Unfolded, the paper reads: “Sam 804.196.3798.” I stick the paper to the fridge with a coffee cup magnet. I wonder why she gave me this. I’m almost positive she intended this paper for someone else. I mean, I’m not bad looking, but I’m no Adonis. After brewing a pot of coffee, I lean against my countertop and stare at the sheet of paper. She was a real cutie. I want to call her. I’m excited. What if she really did mean to drop it in my bag?
The next day at work, while standing around the coffee pot, I brought her up in conversation with Joe. I call him Joe, because he usually buys the coffee. His real name is Joel. Not too far off, but no one else calls him Joe. Joe likes coffee too. He’s not a connoisseur like me, but he has plenty of interest in the subject of premium beans.
“So yesterday at the store, I ran into this cutie. Literally. Bumped into her on my way out. And I don’t know if she meant to or what, but she dropped a piece of paper in my bag. Apparently her name is Sam. Oh, and it had her number on it.”
Joe nods approvingly, and sits his mug down on the counter. “Well, I hope that’s a good sign. I’d call her, even if you think she didn’t mean to drop it in your bag. The worst thing she could do is
say no. Go for it, Will.”
“I will. If she says yes, then that’ll be one more thing to distract me from this hellhole. I hate it here. I wish I could find some other way to pay off my student loans. But they’re almost paid off, and then I can try to get my Masters degree.”
“You know, you could have just majored in something useful. Like Biology, or Chemistry.”
I shake my head. “I could have, but I wouldn’t enjoy working in those fields. I want to be an archaeologist. Too bad it’s all technical these days, and not adventurous like Indiana Jones.”
“Haha, yeah, you’re right. Hey, can I borrow your Indy movies? The wife and I like to watch movies all the time, and, well, she’s never seen any of the Indiana Jones movies.”
“What? That’s insane! Of course you can borrow them. I’ll bring them tomorrow.”
“Alright! Will, you’re the man.”
We clink our mugs together. It’s a small event, but it’s camaraderie that gets us through the day. I dredge back to the cubicle, slooping slowly across the carpet. Stopping by Aaron’s desk on the way, I peek at what he’s doing. I doubt it’ll be any different than what I’m about to do, but it’s more to say hi to a friend than being nosy about work.
“What’s up?” I ask
“Same old. I gotta finish this floor plan today and send it to one of our clients. These people don’t even know what they want. First they want 3 bedrooms, now they want 5. I don’t get it. I mean, yeah, it’s a young couple and they want kids, but you never know if you’ll have that many to fill that house.”
“That may be true, but they can always convert a room into an office, or play room, or something. If they want it, give it to them. Not my money.”
“Yeah. I’m just lazy.”
“I know that, haha.”
Mark, our boss, overhears us and walks over. “John, you need to get to work. You’ve been falling behind recently. If it keeps up for too long, I’m going to have to let you go.”
I sigh and return to my cubicle. “Good luck, Aaron,” I say. My job today is to make a cross section of some random house. I enjoy architectural drafting to a certain extent, but it’s just not something I want to do the rest of my life. I can’t make a lasting career out of drawing things on AutoCAD all day. It’s fun for a few hours. After that, I can’t concentrate at all and usually sit around doing nothing. Mark never catches me goofing off, because he makes too much noise when he walks around. If he didn’t clomp around the studio, he might have fired me long ago. Luckily I work fast, so no one notices if I don’t do anything for a few hours.
I open the file and start clicking away. A box for the frame of the house, a rectangle for the roofing. Cut, paste, and stretch. Same thing every day. Make a box for the window, and draw lines for the siding on the house. Don’t forget the foundation. This side part sticks out, make sure you draw that piece too. Ugh, I hate this job. I’d rather hit myself in the face with a hammer. 2 things keep me working here, and one is coffee.
The paper with Sam’s number on it still hangs on my fridge door. I stare at it again, debating whether to call or not. The coffeemaker beeps to tell me it’s done, and I pour a mug full. It’s my second pot today, an unusual feat for me. Like an addiction, I drink more coffee when I’m stressed. I sip it black, and burn my tongue. Great, now I’ll sound funny when I call her. I rip the paper off the fridge, and dart to my bathroom. Brushing my teeth is my grand plan for getting her to say yes. Over the phone. I am such a genius. She’ll smell my fresh breath and fall in love with me. I chuckle out loud and choke on toothpaste foam. After hacking a couple minutes, I finally gag up the minty freshness.
“Euuuughh.” I groan as I reach for the paper. Time to make this phone call!
I dial the numbers clumsily, my hand shaking. The phone rings 3 times before she answers. “Hello?”
“Is this Sam?” My voice is shaky and weak. I’m nervous.
“Yeah, who is this?”
“This is John. The guy you ran into at the grocery store the other day.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I got home, and your number was on a sheet of paper that made its way into my bag. I hope that was intentional.”
“Oh, uh. Yeah. Um, the whole dropping it into your bag was unintentional, but I was going to give it to you if you hadn’t bumped into me. I’ve been watching you. I know it sounds creepy, but I was afraid that if I just walked up to you and asked you out, you’d think I was slutty or something. I don’t know, it’s kinda stupid.”
“Yeah, well, I was afraid you accidentally dropped it in my bag, and that you didn’t like me. Especially because I did the creeper look on you.”
“Haha, yeah that was kind of weird. I hope you don’t do it again.”
“Oh, yeah. I won’t.”
“Good.”
“Yeah.” A pause follows this. Should I say something else? “Do you want to do something this weekend? Like maybe a date?”
She doesn’t answer. I panic. White-hot cold tingles across my skin, making me nauseous. After waiting for what felt like years, she finally replied, “Yes. I would. What are we going to do?”
“How about dinner and a stroll through the park? It’s a little different than a movie, haha.”
“Sure, that sounds great. What time?”
“I’ll pick you up Saturday at 8.”
“Ah ha. Cliché time.”
“What? It works.”
“Yes, it does. I’ll see you then.”
“Alright. Bye, Sam.”
“Bye, John.”
Click! Just like that, I was floating. Forget Cloud 9, I’m on something like Cloud 15. Just soaring. 15 minutes ago, I was fearing rejection, and now I have a date with a girl named Sam! Sam….. who? I forgot to get her last name! And where she lives! Ack!
I hit redial, and hear the phone ring again. She answers, “Hello?”
“Hi, this is John again. I forgot to ask where I need to pick you up.”
“Oh, yeah. You did, haha.” I imagine her smiling when she laughs. “My apartment is at 1416 Square Circle. Whoever named that road had a sense of humor. Anyway, I live in apartment 15 at Square Place. You’ll see it when you get on the road.”
I repeat Square Circle over in my head until I get it. “Ah-hahaha. That’s funny! Sorry, I know I sound like an idiot. I never was good at getting jokes.”
She chuckles, and says, “Well that’s okay. By the way, what’s your last name, John?”
“Willoughby. What’s yours?”
“Bonson.”
‘That’s a pretty name. Sam Bonson.”
“John Willoughby. Man, your parents were original when they came up with your first name, weren’t they?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Haha.” Pause. “I guess I’ll see you Saturday, then, John.”
“Call me Willoughby. Or Will. Most everyone else does.”
“Okay, Willy. Bye!”
“Bye, Sam.”
After the phone clicked, my heart leapt into my throat and began to claw at my gag reflex. I leaned over the trash can and spewed still-fresh coffee. That cold/hot feeling spreads over me again, and I stumble out of the kitchen area. I flop on my couch with a flushed face. Blech. The air vent above my head rattles to life, as if it were old bones clacking together. The cold A/C refreshes my skin and calms me. I’m back on Cloud 15 again, just ecstatic.
Joe sits across the table from me. We’re on break, sitting around the coffee pot, as I like to call it.
“So I called her last night, Joe.”
“Really? What did she say?”
“She said yes!”
“Awesome. Did you remember to bring the Indy movies?”
“Crap, no. I forgot all about them. I kinda passed out on the couch last night.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I kinda panicked and freaked out. I threw up and everything, too.”
“Wow, dude. You don’t deal with stress too well, do you?”
“Not really.”
“Wow.”
“Yep.” I sip my coffee. It’s good today. Whoever started the pot scooped just the right amount of coffee into the filter. Uh oh. Break-time’s almost over. Here comes Mark. He looks angry.
“John, Joel, break time is over. I need you guys to get back to work. We’re behind today, and a couple people are out today. I need you two to cover for Aaron today. His kid is sick, so he’s at the doctor’s office.”
I sigh and stand. I hate this. I won’t be able to keep focused and do my job and part of Aaron’s job. Today is going to suck. Mark leans over and whispers in my ear. “If Aaron’s work isn’t done by 5 o’clock today, I’m going to fire you.” I stare at him, slightly puzzled, and he glares at me with an angry grin. “I mean it,” he follows up with. “I’m not afraid to get rid of you.”
I sulk my way back to my cubicle, last mug of warm coffee in my hand. As long as I focus on dinner with Sam Saturday night, I should be fine. Unfortunately, Joe and I don’t finish Aaron’s work for today. That’s fine for him, Mark’s not going to fire Joe. But as for me, I’m dead meat. At 5:00, Mark calls me into his ‘office’. It’s a slightly larger cubicle with raised walls and a door. He calls it his office because he’s a douche.
“Did you and Joe finish that floor plan?”
“Nope.”
“Why didn’t you finish it?”
“Because it was more work than we could handle.”
“I don’t believe that. You know what happens now, don’t you?”
“Yeah…” I hinge on the end of the word. I’m about to be unemployed again. My loans are $1,000 away from being completely paid off, and I’m losing my job. This sucks.
“You’re fired. I warned you plenty of times. You played with fire, and you got burned. Now get out of here.”
I stare at the floor like an embarrassed child as I rise from the chair. I’m done with this place. Stopping by my cubicle to grab some things, I notice that Joe is still here.
“Hey, why are you staying?”
“I was nosy and wanted to know what was up.”
“I assume you heard?”
“Yeah…. Sorry.”
“Whatever. Here.” I toss my stapler to him. “You’re always borrowing it, anyway.”
He catches the stapler with a sad chuckle, and sighs. I can tell Joe is going to miss me. He’d be one of the few who will. Him and Aaron, anyway. It’s funny how the two people who’ll miss me the most are the two people who contributed to getting me fired. It was my fault, ultimately, but they both played a role in it.
I throw my small collection of personals in the back seat of my car, and crank her up. The drive home takes hours, it seems, and is filled with dreadful silence. When I get back, I brew a pot of coffee, and drink it all quickly. I don’t care whether it burns my tongue or not. I brew another pot, my third today. I’m freaking out. I keep expecting to cry or something, but nothing happens. I’m just. Empty.
I wake up the next morning slumped over the couch. My phone is ringing quite loudly, and I answer it. Mark wants me to come back. They’re still short, and have more work than a full office can churn out in a day. I tell him yes, that I’ll come back. He says it’s only for today, but I know he’s lying. I work the rest of the week.
Finally Saturday rolls around, and I go out with Sam. I take her to Olive Garden. Coincidentally, she loves Italian food. We go for a walk in the park, and I show her the most romantic places to picnic. When I drop her off at her apartment, later than we expected, she pulls me close and kisses me. She smells like coffee and flowers and candy hearts. I kiss back the best I can, but I’m not too experienced with any of this. I wrap my arms around her and we stand there for years, just kissing. I enjoyed it. We stop, and she pulls away just enough that the outer light shines in her eyes. It’s so cliché, but I don’t care. This is my first time experiencing something like this with someone else, and it’s magic.
“I’ll see you soon, Willy,” she says with a wink.
“I’d like that. How about next week? Same time?”
“Sure.” She waltzes into her apartment, queen of tonight. She winks at me before closing the door. “Bye Willy.”
I tell Sam bye with a goofy grin. I feel stupid, like my brains were squashed by a hammer. The next week whizzes by, and Mark decides to let me stay permanently. Saturday night comes knocking on my door, but when I knock on Sam’s door, no one answers. I try calling her, and I hear her phone ring behind the door, but no answer. I wait for half an hour before finally giving up. I’ve been stood up. A few hours later, I get a text from Sam that reads, “I’m sorry.”
It's somewhat rough around the edges, taken from my early days in the Creative Writing program at my university, and I didn't particularly feel like polishing it (I was lazy...)
Regardless, I hope you all enjoy, as I had fun writing it, years ago.
(Here it is, pasted in my post, since the attachment doesn't seem to work correctly.)
Beans
“Alright, John, $25.13 today.” Eddy surveys my groceries. He looks like he expects to find a snake in one of the coffee cans. Or like I’m buying something other than coffee today. I have a can of premium coffee for my house, and some cheaper coffee for the office. We all take turns buying the coffee, but everyone has an unspoken agreement to buy the same brand. It’s not the most expensive, but I like it. It’s not my favorite, but it is good. I tried buying it for home one week, when I was low on cash. That was a mistake. It’s an office only coffee. I find that the different flavors in coffee apply themselves better in certain situations.
Eddy interrupts my life narration. “You sure do like coffee. Man, you come in here at least once a week and spend lots of money on it. Are you a secret super hero who uses coffee as fuel?”
I laugh, and reply, “No, I just like coffee. Actually, I love it.”
I swipe my card, feeling the click of the magnetic sensor slink its electrically generated tongue across the strip. I don’t know why, but I like that. No one really knows why I like coffee so much, either. One of my ex-girlfriends forced me to see a shrink about it, but that was pointless. The doctor said it may have come from my relationship with my parents, but after learning about my relationships with my parents, he counted that out. I may be crazy, but my parents have nothing to do with it.
I grab my cans and head out the door. On my way out, I bump into a pretty lady. She’s got her mind somewhere else. I can tell, because I do the same thing. Her eyes are kinda glazed over, like she’s not here. When I stop, I see how pretty she really is. Oh, wow. I stop, and gawk awkwardly for a few seconds. Finally, I get the nerve to say something.
“Oh, sorry. Are you okay?”
She looks at me. She seems to be a bit creeped out because I stared. “I’m fine. Sorry” She shuffles off quickly, avoiding me.
Guilt creeps its way up my intestines, nestling uncomfortably in my stomach. Somehow I never got over that awkward stage when I was a teenager. I search my pockets for my iPod and headphones. I do this a lot when I’m embarrassed. When I get back to my apartment, I find that a slip of paper has stowed away in my bag. Unfolded, the paper reads: “Sam 804.196.3798.” I stick the paper to the fridge with a coffee cup magnet. I wonder why she gave me this. I’m almost positive she intended this paper for someone else. I mean, I’m not bad looking, but I’m no Adonis. After brewing a pot of coffee, I lean against my countertop and stare at the sheet of paper. She was a real cutie. I want to call her. I’m excited. What if she really did mean to drop it in my bag?
The next day at work, while standing around the coffee pot, I brought her up in conversation with Joe. I call him Joe, because he usually buys the coffee. His real name is Joel. Not too far off, but no one else calls him Joe. Joe likes coffee too. He’s not a connoisseur like me, but he has plenty of interest in the subject of premium beans.
“So yesterday at the store, I ran into this cutie. Literally. Bumped into her on my way out. And I don’t know if she meant to or what, but she dropped a piece of paper in my bag. Apparently her name is Sam. Oh, and it had her number on it.”
Joe nods approvingly, and sits his mug down on the counter. “Well, I hope that’s a good sign. I’d call her, even if you think she didn’t mean to drop it in your bag. The worst thing she could do is
say no. Go for it, Will.”
“I will. If she says yes, then that’ll be one more thing to distract me from this hellhole. I hate it here. I wish I could find some other way to pay off my student loans. But they’re almost paid off, and then I can try to get my Masters degree.”
“You know, you could have just majored in something useful. Like Biology, or Chemistry.”
I shake my head. “I could have, but I wouldn’t enjoy working in those fields. I want to be an archaeologist. Too bad it’s all technical these days, and not adventurous like Indiana Jones.”
“Haha, yeah, you’re right. Hey, can I borrow your Indy movies? The wife and I like to watch movies all the time, and, well, she’s never seen any of the Indiana Jones movies.”
“What? That’s insane! Of course you can borrow them. I’ll bring them tomorrow.”
“Alright! Will, you’re the man.”
We clink our mugs together. It’s a small event, but it’s camaraderie that gets us through the day. I dredge back to the cubicle, slooping slowly across the carpet. Stopping by Aaron’s desk on the way, I peek at what he’s doing. I doubt it’ll be any different than what I’m about to do, but it’s more to say hi to a friend than being nosy about work.
“What’s up?” I ask
“Same old. I gotta finish this floor plan today and send it to one of our clients. These people don’t even know what they want. First they want 3 bedrooms, now they want 5. I don’t get it. I mean, yeah, it’s a young couple and they want kids, but you never know if you’ll have that many to fill that house.”
“That may be true, but they can always convert a room into an office, or play room, or something. If they want it, give it to them. Not my money.”
“Yeah. I’m just lazy.”
“I know that, haha.”
Mark, our boss, overhears us and walks over. “John, you need to get to work. You’ve been falling behind recently. If it keeps up for too long, I’m going to have to let you go.”
I sigh and return to my cubicle. “Good luck, Aaron,” I say. My job today is to make a cross section of some random house. I enjoy architectural drafting to a certain extent, but it’s just not something I want to do the rest of my life. I can’t make a lasting career out of drawing things on AutoCAD all day. It’s fun for a few hours. After that, I can’t concentrate at all and usually sit around doing nothing. Mark never catches me goofing off, because he makes too much noise when he walks around. If he didn’t clomp around the studio, he might have fired me long ago. Luckily I work fast, so no one notices if I don’t do anything for a few hours.
I open the file and start clicking away. A box for the frame of the house, a rectangle for the roofing. Cut, paste, and stretch. Same thing every day. Make a box for the window, and draw lines for the siding on the house. Don’t forget the foundation. This side part sticks out, make sure you draw that piece too. Ugh, I hate this job. I’d rather hit myself in the face with a hammer. 2 things keep me working here, and one is coffee.
The paper with Sam’s number on it still hangs on my fridge door. I stare at it again, debating whether to call or not. The coffeemaker beeps to tell me it’s done, and I pour a mug full. It’s my second pot today, an unusual feat for me. Like an addiction, I drink more coffee when I’m stressed. I sip it black, and burn my tongue. Great, now I’ll sound funny when I call her. I rip the paper off the fridge, and dart to my bathroom. Brushing my teeth is my grand plan for getting her to say yes. Over the phone. I am such a genius. She’ll smell my fresh breath and fall in love with me. I chuckle out loud and choke on toothpaste foam. After hacking a couple minutes, I finally gag up the minty freshness.
“Euuuughh.” I groan as I reach for the paper. Time to make this phone call!
I dial the numbers clumsily, my hand shaking. The phone rings 3 times before she answers. “Hello?”
“Is this Sam?” My voice is shaky and weak. I’m nervous.
“Yeah, who is this?”
“This is John. The guy you ran into at the grocery store the other day.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I got home, and your number was on a sheet of paper that made its way into my bag. I hope that was intentional.”
“Oh, uh. Yeah. Um, the whole dropping it into your bag was unintentional, but I was going to give it to you if you hadn’t bumped into me. I’ve been watching you. I know it sounds creepy, but I was afraid that if I just walked up to you and asked you out, you’d think I was slutty or something. I don’t know, it’s kinda stupid.”
“Yeah, well, I was afraid you accidentally dropped it in my bag, and that you didn’t like me. Especially because I did the creeper look on you.”
“Haha, yeah that was kind of weird. I hope you don’t do it again.”
“Oh, yeah. I won’t.”
“Good.”
“Yeah.” A pause follows this. Should I say something else? “Do you want to do something this weekend? Like maybe a date?”
She doesn’t answer. I panic. White-hot cold tingles across my skin, making me nauseous. After waiting for what felt like years, she finally replied, “Yes. I would. What are we going to do?”
“How about dinner and a stroll through the park? It’s a little different than a movie, haha.”
“Sure, that sounds great. What time?”
“I’ll pick you up Saturday at 8.”
“Ah ha. Cliché time.”
“What? It works.”
“Yes, it does. I’ll see you then.”
“Alright. Bye, Sam.”
“Bye, John.”
Click! Just like that, I was floating. Forget Cloud 9, I’m on something like Cloud 15. Just soaring. 15 minutes ago, I was fearing rejection, and now I have a date with a girl named Sam! Sam….. who? I forgot to get her last name! And where she lives! Ack!
I hit redial, and hear the phone ring again. She answers, “Hello?”
“Hi, this is John again. I forgot to ask where I need to pick you up.”
“Oh, yeah. You did, haha.” I imagine her smiling when she laughs. “My apartment is at 1416 Square Circle. Whoever named that road had a sense of humor. Anyway, I live in apartment 15 at Square Place. You’ll see it when you get on the road.”
I repeat Square Circle over in my head until I get it. “Ah-hahaha. That’s funny! Sorry, I know I sound like an idiot. I never was good at getting jokes.”
She chuckles, and says, “Well that’s okay. By the way, what’s your last name, John?”
“Willoughby. What’s yours?”
“Bonson.”
‘That’s a pretty name. Sam Bonson.”
“John Willoughby. Man, your parents were original when they came up with your first name, weren’t they?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Haha.” Pause. “I guess I’ll see you Saturday, then, John.”
“Call me Willoughby. Or Will. Most everyone else does.”
“Okay, Willy. Bye!”
“Bye, Sam.”
After the phone clicked, my heart leapt into my throat and began to claw at my gag reflex. I leaned over the trash can and spewed still-fresh coffee. That cold/hot feeling spreads over me again, and I stumble out of the kitchen area. I flop on my couch with a flushed face. Blech. The air vent above my head rattles to life, as if it were old bones clacking together. The cold A/C refreshes my skin and calms me. I’m back on Cloud 15 again, just ecstatic.
Joe sits across the table from me. We’re on break, sitting around the coffee pot, as I like to call it.
“So I called her last night, Joe.”
“Really? What did she say?”
“She said yes!”
“Awesome. Did you remember to bring the Indy movies?”
“Crap, no. I forgot all about them. I kinda passed out on the couch last night.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I kinda panicked and freaked out. I threw up and everything, too.”
“Wow, dude. You don’t deal with stress too well, do you?”
“Not really.”
“Wow.”
“Yep.” I sip my coffee. It’s good today. Whoever started the pot scooped just the right amount of coffee into the filter. Uh oh. Break-time’s almost over. Here comes Mark. He looks angry.
“John, Joel, break time is over. I need you guys to get back to work. We’re behind today, and a couple people are out today. I need you two to cover for Aaron today. His kid is sick, so he’s at the doctor’s office.”
I sigh and stand. I hate this. I won’t be able to keep focused and do my job and part of Aaron’s job. Today is going to suck. Mark leans over and whispers in my ear. “If Aaron’s work isn’t done by 5 o’clock today, I’m going to fire you.” I stare at him, slightly puzzled, and he glares at me with an angry grin. “I mean it,” he follows up with. “I’m not afraid to get rid of you.”
I sulk my way back to my cubicle, last mug of warm coffee in my hand. As long as I focus on dinner with Sam Saturday night, I should be fine. Unfortunately, Joe and I don’t finish Aaron’s work for today. That’s fine for him, Mark’s not going to fire Joe. But as for me, I’m dead meat. At 5:00, Mark calls me into his ‘office’. It’s a slightly larger cubicle with raised walls and a door. He calls it his office because he’s a douche.
“Did you and Joe finish that floor plan?”
“Nope.”
“Why didn’t you finish it?”
“Because it was more work than we could handle.”
“I don’t believe that. You know what happens now, don’t you?”
“Yeah…” I hinge on the end of the word. I’m about to be unemployed again. My loans are $1,000 away from being completely paid off, and I’m losing my job. This sucks.
“You’re fired. I warned you plenty of times. You played with fire, and you got burned. Now get out of here.”
I stare at the floor like an embarrassed child as I rise from the chair. I’m done with this place. Stopping by my cubicle to grab some things, I notice that Joe is still here.
“Hey, why are you staying?”
“I was nosy and wanted to know what was up.”
“I assume you heard?”
“Yeah…. Sorry.”
“Whatever. Here.” I toss my stapler to him. “You’re always borrowing it, anyway.”
He catches the stapler with a sad chuckle, and sighs. I can tell Joe is going to miss me. He’d be one of the few who will. Him and Aaron, anyway. It’s funny how the two people who’ll miss me the most are the two people who contributed to getting me fired. It was my fault, ultimately, but they both played a role in it.
I throw my small collection of personals in the back seat of my car, and crank her up. The drive home takes hours, it seems, and is filled with dreadful silence. When I get back, I brew a pot of coffee, and drink it all quickly. I don’t care whether it burns my tongue or not. I brew another pot, my third today. I’m freaking out. I keep expecting to cry or something, but nothing happens. I’m just. Empty.
I wake up the next morning slumped over the couch. My phone is ringing quite loudly, and I answer it. Mark wants me to come back. They’re still short, and have more work than a full office can churn out in a day. I tell him yes, that I’ll come back. He says it’s only for today, but I know he’s lying. I work the rest of the week.
Finally Saturday rolls around, and I go out with Sam. I take her to Olive Garden. Coincidentally, she loves Italian food. We go for a walk in the park, and I show her the most romantic places to picnic. When I drop her off at her apartment, later than we expected, she pulls me close and kisses me. She smells like coffee and flowers and candy hearts. I kiss back the best I can, but I’m not too experienced with any of this. I wrap my arms around her and we stand there for years, just kissing. I enjoyed it. We stop, and she pulls away just enough that the outer light shines in her eyes. It’s so cliché, but I don’t care. This is my first time experiencing something like this with someone else, and it’s magic.
“I’ll see you soon, Willy,” she says with a wink.
“I’d like that. How about next week? Same time?”
“Sure.” She waltzes into her apartment, queen of tonight. She winks at me before closing the door. “Bye Willy.”
I tell Sam bye with a goofy grin. I feel stupid, like my brains were squashed by a hammer. The next week whizzes by, and Mark decides to let me stay permanently. Saturday night comes knocking on my door, but when I knock on Sam’s door, no one answers. I try calling her, and I hear her phone ring behind the door, but no answer. I wait for half an hour before finally giving up. I’ve been stood up. A few hours later, I get a text from Sam that reads, “I’m sorry.”
Attachments:
pretty short date too...