ChicagoReader
09-01-2012, 05:20 PM
Story I've been working on lately, still not finished but it's getting there. Kind of long but any criticism is appreciated greatly.
Boiling Over
Alex snaps upright at the sound of his alarm with her face clear in his mind’s eye. The clock reveals it’s 4:30, but he already knows that, his body finely tuned to power up by dawn. He instinctively feels the other side of the bed for her presence, knowing she is not there. An involuntary groan escapes from his throat; clenching his eyes closed, he desperately tries to re-enter the dream. Back to the world where he is her sun, and she, his. Where her smiles are meant for him.
His body is still in a daze; the first time he dreamt of her he woke up ecstatic. Lately though these dreams were a torment. They occurred several times a week and sometimes every day for long, painful stretches. In his dream world they knew everything about each other without saying anything. Eye contact was all that was needed. Each morning after one of these dreams he would wake to find himself alone. The reality of their relationship being that it wasn’t a relationship.
As he showers, Sarah’s image taunts him. She is perfect. Her wavy brown hair captures the surrounding light and reflects a spectrum of bronze, honey, and chestnut. Her eyes, green and playful, expand with happiness. Her look scares and entices him. Alex isn’t very good at picturing people’s faces but Sarah’s is ingrained deep in his mind. Oddly enough he never questions his love for her, however irrational. He knows nothing about her but his feelings are so strong, so visceral, that there is nothing he could do but succumb.
The time to get out of the shower’s loving curtain of warmth comes far too soon. It means he is that much closer to the soul-deadening journey to work in bumper-to-bumper traffic. But first he has to get dressed and make breakfast for himself and his father.
He approaches the living room where the air has a heaviness only found around the sick and dying. Each step leaves a damp footprint on the mock-wood floors. The lights are off but the sun’s strong rays filter through the blinds to create enough light to reveal a bed lying against a wall to his left. From his angle he can only see a tumble of sheets but the unmistakable sound of his father’s breathing conveys his still-living presence. Alex stubs his toe on a chair leg five feet from the bed and does his best to absorb the pain without a sound; maybe his father will stay sleeping.
“What’s all that damn racket?”
Alex’s head drops. “Sorry Pop, how are you feeling?”
His father grunts and says, “I’ve got to piss, help me up.”
Alex proceeds over to his father and throws back the sheets to reveal blue-black, withered legs. He softly pulls them toward the side of the bed then crouches low so his father can brace himself, and lifts him up. At the bathroom, his father tells him to wait outside the door. He stands patiently, absently staring at his feet, thinking about Sarah, until he hears a flush and the door swings open.
“I can get myself back,” his father says, “no need to treat me like a child.”
“Alright, Pop. Eggs and Sausage OK for breakfast?” His father replies with a grunt and Alex goes into the kitchen to prepare the food. While cooking he glances at the clock and realizes he’s running late, and also that he’ll be seeing Sarah in just over two hours. He rushes a plate of food over to his father and jogs back up to his room to get dressed.
On his way down the stairs he slips in his hurry and thumps loudly down a few steps before he regains his footing, nearly spraining an ankle in the process.
“Christ, boy, trying to bring the whole damn house down with you?” Alex ignores the remark and makes sure his father is set for food, says goodbye and rushes out the door. Only once he is in his car does he feel like he can breathe. He grips the steering wheel and takes several deep breaths. Any comfort he has is lost when he turns onto the expressway and sees a stream of red taillights curving off into the distance. He is going to be late.
In the monotonous stop-and-go traffic, Alex’s mind drifts back to his imagined world. He feels the weight of her head on his shoulder, the way her fingers perfectly twine with his own. She is looking up into his eyes, really looking, and smiling too. Slim pink lips turned up slightly at the edges in pure bliss. Nothing else mattered in that world. Nations could be clashing on the verge of total destruction and he wouldn’t notice. His father’s constant berating didn’t faze him. Everything he saw was in a positive light, even the traffic.
But that world isn’t real, and never would be. How could a woman like her ever be interested in him? She requires a man assure of himself, a man willing to fight through any obstacle to hold her. Alex knows in his heart that he isn’t that man. His words come out weak and gargled from indecision.
Alex stares at his monitor. It’s two o’clock, three more hours left in the workday, then the same trip in traffic back home. He’s thinking about how he can possibly muster the strength to fight through the day when a co-workers face appears over the grey cubicle wall.
It’s his “friend,” Jared, who works kitty corner to Alex’s cubicle. They both started working for the company at about the same time, and to Jared, this made them buddies. Jared was the type of guy who loved to hear himself talk, and always had a story to one-up a co-worker’s.
“Hey, bud, I need a favor.”
‘Great, another favor,’ Alex thinks to himself before saying “shoot.”
“You know that fine piece of tail I was telling you about? The one with tits out to here? Well, I finally convinced her to go out with me but she only agreed if she could bring a friend. I guess she doesn’t feel comfortable being alone with me, wonder why?” He says with a sly smile. The woman he is referring to works for the same company, and even in another department, rumors of Jared’s womanizing ways had to of spread to her. For some reason though, women just didn’t seem to be able to resist him. It was as if they needed to confirm the rumors personally. “that’s where you come in, buddy.”
“No, no , no. I tried that once with you, and I promised myself that I’d never do it again.”
“what’s with the hostility? That last girl I hooked you up with was a sure thing. What’s wrong with that?”
What is wrong, Alex thinks, is that she reeked of sex and was covered in hickeys, and probably came to their date straight from the last John, but he just shakes his head and says, “She wasn’t my type.”
“Your type? Man, pussy is pussy,” Jared says and laughs. Alex says nothing and turns back to his computer. “You haven’t heard the best of it. The friend is Sarah Hall.” He says with accentuated relish, “Don’t even try to hide the fact you’ve got a thing for her. I’ve seen the way you stare as she walks by. Who can blame you though? She does have a grade-A ***, that’s for sure.”
Jared’s last comment doesn’t register for Alex, he is still trying to grasp that Sarah Hall has agreed to go on this date. He suddenly feels like his weight has left the center of his body and traveled -to each extremity, his limbs dangle and sway with a mind of their own. The corners of the room start to peel back, he needs to grasp the desk’s edge to stay in his seat. Is this really happening? Surely Jared is just screwing with him. He must’ve heard wrong. How is he supposed to go on a date with her? What would he say? Alex wishes he had Jared’s ability with women. Whenever he is around one, the pounding of his heart drowns out the words sent from his brain.
“That’s what I thought.” Jared says, taking Alex’s silence as an acceptance. With that, he disappears back behind the cubicle barrier, likely looking for the next person to disrupt from working.
Alex can’t stop thinking about Sarah. If he could construct a companion any way he wished the result would look like her. And there she is, just four cubicles down. He can only see the back of her chair from his spot but he pictures her in that tight black skirt that hugs her hips just so. Way out of his league; just about every guy in the company had made a go at her, including Jared, but all had failed. What made her agree to go out with him of all people? He didn’t even realize she knew who he was. He had witnessed Jared pester her every day with advancements to which she always calmly declined. And now she had agreed to go out with him?
Five o’clock comes much quicker on this crisp, clear day. When Alex leaves the office, he is met head-on by a strong wind. He has to struggle to grasp the ends of his coat zipper when the glare of the sun shines especially bright into his eyes. Glancing up, he sees the silver of Jared’s Porsche 911 pull up to the curb. He doesn’t understand how Jared has such an expensive car. After all, they have the same job position within the company. It has to be family money. The way Jared carries himself suggests so; the thrown back shoulders as if ready to fight, yet still the calm, cool persona of someone who knows what they’re doing. It really made Alex sick to his stomach to witness him in action. He was always able to find out how to say exactly what each person wanted to hear, and in a manner that really portrayed sincerity, even though it was all an act. Alex knows better because Jared is always honest with him, the reasoning behind this he can’t decipher, but he thinks it’s because Jared perceives him as harmless.
“Hey, I’m counting on you tonight, so just play it cool.” Jared says behind a pair of pitch dark aviators, and with that, speeds off in a screech of tires.
Play it cool? He has no idea what that’s supposed to mean. One could possibly assume that it means relax, just be yourself. But with Jared, it likely means don’t do anything stupid to mess this up for me. Alex mulls this over while walking to the car. After several frozen minutes of indecision—he could just make up some excuse about his ill father—Alex focuses back on his surroundings, turns the key in the ignition, and pulls out of the parking lot.
An hour into the drive home, Alex zones out toward the direction of the taillights directly in front, flashing on and off like embers in a fire. He still has about forty-five minutes left in his commute so he flips on NPR, and listens to an interview of an ex-gang member who is now in a crime intervention group. What is most interesting is that this group sought to stop crimes before they happened. They go to families and gangs who have recently lost a member to violence, and plead with them to not retaliate. The key to their success though is their reputations. The interviewee had been a high ranking member in a notoriously violent gang. He admitted to, and spoke of his sentence for murder, of which he was sentenced in the second degree at the age of fifteen. Luckily for him, he was a minor when he committed the crime so was fortunate not to lose his whole life to a prison sentence.
Alex finds this all very interesting, but what really captivates him is this idea of respect that these violence-stoppers possessed. They were capable of walking into the projects unarmed, and get in someone’s face to convince them to back down. The only reason these guys walked away with their lives were their reputations. Alex fantasizes about this for awhile. He pictures himself walking into his office and causing a wave of silence to pass across the room. Walking down the hall and having everyone else move out of his way. These thoughts distract him from Sarah for all of about six minutes. He just cannot get over the idea of her.
There’s another possibility, Alex realizes, Meg could just be the other woman’s friend, forced to accompany her to the dinner, making him an invisible fourth wheel. If he acts like it’s a date only to find out at the moment that the truth couldn’t be farther, he’d be ruined. Perhaps it is just better to stay quiet but respectful. Disinterested, even. That seems to work for Jared.
He gets to his house at 6:52, giving him just over an hour before Jared’s silver Porsche will be in his driveway. As soon as he enters the front door, his father’s voice echoes down the hallway.
“About damn time you’re here. I’m hungry.”
“Yeah, yeah, pop. Give--"
“Don’t ‘yeah, yeah’ me. You’re late. Now get me my damn food.”
Alex doesn’t respond, but proceeds toward the kitchen. Opening the fridge he sees that there is almost no pasta left in the tub he left for his father. He spoons the last of it into a bowl and pops it into the microwave. His father is in the living room, lying in bed, watching Monday Night Football. The timer goes off and he retrieves the bowl and brings it to his father, who takes it without a word. While walking up the stairs to his bedroom, a memory surges into his mind.
Alex is helping his father carry a new TV stand they had just gotten, when his grip slips and he drops it onto the tile floor, causing it to crack, and the stand breaks.
“Goddammit! Get out of my way.” His father says as he pushes him aside.
Alex gets up quickly and walks through the kitchen, past his mother, and towards the stairs where he sits down about halfway up, tears starting to escape from the corners of his eyes.
“He’s just a child, dear. You can’t get so frustrated with him.” His mother says in a hushed voice.
“Oh bull****. He’s never going to learn if I baby him every minute of every day. I just don’t understand how he manages to screw everything up. It’s like he tries to piss me off. What am I supposed to do?”
Fifteen years later, Alex knows for sure that that was a defining moment in his upbringing. It formed the mold for who is now. He gets to his bedroom and proceeds straight for the shower. What kind of man says something like that about his son? That time was different from his usual over-excited tirades. He meant it. Why else would he have said it? It’s not like Alex was in the room for him to hear. It wasn’t one of his threats. His tone was calm while he delivered that blow to Alex’s soul.
After showering, he checks the clock to see that he has twenty minutes. His closet doesn’t have much to offer. It is mostly full of khakis and polos of just about every shade of blue that exists. If he knew Jared at all, they’d be going to some high end place, so he reaches in and grabs the one suit he owns, black with an almost imperceptible grey pinstripe. He matches it with a white dress shirt and a royal blue tie.
Standing in front of the mirror he actually looks decent, if only the suit fit him properly. It’s actually from his father’s closet. After a minute or so of checking himself out, he breaks away from the mirror and heads back downstairs.
“Hey, Pop. I’m going out to dinner with a few coworkers in a little bit. Is there anything you need before I go?”
“You’re going out? I never thought I’d see the day. There wouldn’t be any chance of a woman’s presence, would there?”
Alex rolls his eyes but decides it is best to say no. Otherwise his father would ridicule him and go on about his inability to provide grandchildren.
“There’s a surprise, well at least make yourself useful and grab me a beer before you go on your little man-date.”
He grabs the beer when the noise of a car horn pierces through the blare of the TV. Jack quickly brings the can to his father and whirls around back towards the front door, banging his knee into the same chair in the process.
“Do you even know how to walk without messing up? Jesus Christ. Try not to break every goddamn thing in the house on your way out. And lock the door.”
Alex ignores him and continues towards the door while rubbing his knee. He tosses his jacket on and steps halfway into his shoes as he heads out the door. Jared doesn’t release the horn until Alex is finally in the car and seated beside him.
“Easy with the horn, you’ll give my father a heart attack.”
“You live with your dad? ****, man, you need me more than I thought.”
After a life-threatening drive with Jared behind the wheel, they arrive at the restaurant. Alex steps out of the car and is struck with the desire to kiss the pavement and thank God that he is still alive. As soon as they walk through the front door it is clear that the hostess has met Jared before. There is a glimpse of recognition in her eyes when she gushes out an enthusiastic ‘how are you’ and motions for them to follow.
Alex sees Sarah at their table across the room. It’s her hair. The amber lighting in the restaurant gives it a soft glow. His heart begins to race quicker and quicker with each step towards her. She is in a tight black, one-shoulder dress accentuated with a pearl necklace and white purse. As he and Jared get closer, Sarah looks up and smiles. She is looking at Jared though. Before Alex sees what’s coming Jared places himself directly across the table from her, forcing himself to sit across from the other woman.
“Hello boys. Alex, this is my friend Amy,” Sarah says.
Alex reaches his hand towards Amy’s and forces out a hello, trying to sound calm.
“It’s nice to meet you, Alex.”
Across the room a man laughs outrageously and someone drops their silverware.
“Well isn’t this place nice. How’d you know about it, Jared?” Sarah says.
Alex focuses on the dark wood beams that checker the ceiling.
` “Oh you know me; I’m all about the best. You have to try the lobster tempura here, it’s great.”
Alex tries to catch Jared’s attention during the conversation. He wants to let him know that he knows exactly what he is up to.
This was the trick then, he thinks. It would be better to leave than suffer through two hours of Jared’s antics. Then he looks across the table towards Amy and realizes he doesn’t have it in him to skip out on her. After all, he couldn’t afford to waste the opportunity, and she could be a nice girl for all he knew.
Appetizers are eaten and gone and Alex knows that Amy is a fifth grade teacher, likes to get outside, and watch romance comedies. She’s cute with wavy blonde hair and a narrow face with high cheek bones. When she smiles her lips remind Alex of Sarah’s and he has to struggle to keep from staring at her.
“So Alex, have you ever been out to Wyoming? It’s amazing, I tell you, the night sky there is completely surreal.” Amy says.
The question troubles him more than it should and there is a long pause before he says, “No. I’ve never been out of the state.”
“Seriously? How the hell haven’t you left the state in 28 years?”
Sarah and Amy both stare at Alex and wait for a response. He blinks around and says, “I guess I just never had reason to, never needed more than what is here.” The truth is that Sarah isn’t in Wyoming, and Alex couldn’t imagine a world without her, much less a reason to travel a thousand miles from her.
The silence lasts a little longer until Jared says, “Well…alright…,” then looks back to Sarah and says, “Anyway, I have a lake house upstate, you should join me this weekend.”
It isn’t a question. He just states it like it is a fact, already happened. Alex feels like he is about to pass out, he can’t take it. More than anything he wants her to say no.
She doesn’t. “That sounds great; it’s got to be beautiful this time of year.” Her smile is full blast and she has the same look in her eyes as Alex’s dreams, except they are beaming at Jared. A sharp pain stabs at the left side of his sternum and he feels weak.
He turns back at Amy whose face is looking toward him like he’s a C+. “I’m sorry but I just realized I forgot to give my father his medicine. He can’t get it without me, I need to go.”
This of course isn’t true, but it is the best excuse he can come up with. He just can’t deal with it anymore, and he figures he’d probably already blown any chance with Amy. Jared looks him straight in the eyes for a few seconds, but then turns away as if he was never there.
“Alright, you going to get a cab?”
“Yeah, don’t worry.” Alex looks back at Amy who now has a look of confusion. He wonders if he just messed up then, that maybe he hadn’t blown it already, but he decides he is already up, there is no way he can sit back at the table.
He turns and leaves the table, not even giving Sarah a chance to say goodbye. What happened is still too immediate for Alex to process his thoughts. He steps outside and it feels much colder. The wind kicks up and forces a few tears from his eyes while he hails a cab.
The cabbie drops him off just down the street from his house; Alex doesn’t want the noise of the car in the drive to alert his father of his presence. He walks up to the front door and pauses, and hopes his father is asleep already. The noise of the TV echoes down the hall as he enters and steps out of his shoes.
“Back already?”
His stomach plummets. Deaf every other minute of the day, he thinks, figures he hears me now. He walks down the hall, dragging his feet as he enters the kitchen with a look of complete resignation. “Friends couldn’t stand you any longer, eh? Well, why don’t you do something for your father and make some more pasta. You didn’t give me enough before; I am a grown man for Christ’s sake.”
Alex’s head dips to his chest and stays there for a moment. Resolved now, he grabs the big pot used to make enough pasta for a week in, and fills it with water. He doesn’t understand how his father can ignore everything he does for him and continually abuse him, his only family left.
Bubbles start to form at the base of the pot, each randomly releasing as they ascend towards the surface of the water. Alex puts his hands on the edge of the counter and stares vacantly at the blue flame. The surface of the water now bounces around rapidly, indicating a temperature over 200 degrees. Alex doesn’t pour in the pasta though; he just remains stationary, staring at the flame. Then he quickly reaches for the handles and lifts it from the stove. A cloud of heat from the water rises to his neck and face. He proceeds towards the living room where the sound of the TV covers his approach. Standing just behind the bed that had been moved into the room six months ago, his shadow casts across the length of his father’s body. The old man looks up to see his son holding a giant pot over his head.
“What the h--"
Alex slowly tilts the pot so that a thin stream escapes the lip and falls onto his father’s forehead. The old man erupts with screams of pain and goes rigid. Alex tilts the pot even more, causing the water to cascade down in a hiss of steam, silencing his father to muddled moans.
The hiss of water being evaporated on the burner brings Alex back to reality and he turns down the gas and dumps the noodles in the pot. Outside, rain patters against the windows and the dark shadows of trees bend and sway in the wind.
Boiling Over
Alex snaps upright at the sound of his alarm with her face clear in his mind’s eye. The clock reveals it’s 4:30, but he already knows that, his body finely tuned to power up by dawn. He instinctively feels the other side of the bed for her presence, knowing she is not there. An involuntary groan escapes from his throat; clenching his eyes closed, he desperately tries to re-enter the dream. Back to the world where he is her sun, and she, his. Where her smiles are meant for him.
His body is still in a daze; the first time he dreamt of her he woke up ecstatic. Lately though these dreams were a torment. They occurred several times a week and sometimes every day for long, painful stretches. In his dream world they knew everything about each other without saying anything. Eye contact was all that was needed. Each morning after one of these dreams he would wake to find himself alone. The reality of their relationship being that it wasn’t a relationship.
As he showers, Sarah’s image taunts him. She is perfect. Her wavy brown hair captures the surrounding light and reflects a spectrum of bronze, honey, and chestnut. Her eyes, green and playful, expand with happiness. Her look scares and entices him. Alex isn’t very good at picturing people’s faces but Sarah’s is ingrained deep in his mind. Oddly enough he never questions his love for her, however irrational. He knows nothing about her but his feelings are so strong, so visceral, that there is nothing he could do but succumb.
The time to get out of the shower’s loving curtain of warmth comes far too soon. It means he is that much closer to the soul-deadening journey to work in bumper-to-bumper traffic. But first he has to get dressed and make breakfast for himself and his father.
He approaches the living room where the air has a heaviness only found around the sick and dying. Each step leaves a damp footprint on the mock-wood floors. The lights are off but the sun’s strong rays filter through the blinds to create enough light to reveal a bed lying against a wall to his left. From his angle he can only see a tumble of sheets but the unmistakable sound of his father’s breathing conveys his still-living presence. Alex stubs his toe on a chair leg five feet from the bed and does his best to absorb the pain without a sound; maybe his father will stay sleeping.
“What’s all that damn racket?”
Alex’s head drops. “Sorry Pop, how are you feeling?”
His father grunts and says, “I’ve got to piss, help me up.”
Alex proceeds over to his father and throws back the sheets to reveal blue-black, withered legs. He softly pulls them toward the side of the bed then crouches low so his father can brace himself, and lifts him up. At the bathroom, his father tells him to wait outside the door. He stands patiently, absently staring at his feet, thinking about Sarah, until he hears a flush and the door swings open.
“I can get myself back,” his father says, “no need to treat me like a child.”
“Alright, Pop. Eggs and Sausage OK for breakfast?” His father replies with a grunt and Alex goes into the kitchen to prepare the food. While cooking he glances at the clock and realizes he’s running late, and also that he’ll be seeing Sarah in just over two hours. He rushes a plate of food over to his father and jogs back up to his room to get dressed.
On his way down the stairs he slips in his hurry and thumps loudly down a few steps before he regains his footing, nearly spraining an ankle in the process.
“Christ, boy, trying to bring the whole damn house down with you?” Alex ignores the remark and makes sure his father is set for food, says goodbye and rushes out the door. Only once he is in his car does he feel like he can breathe. He grips the steering wheel and takes several deep breaths. Any comfort he has is lost when he turns onto the expressway and sees a stream of red taillights curving off into the distance. He is going to be late.
In the monotonous stop-and-go traffic, Alex’s mind drifts back to his imagined world. He feels the weight of her head on his shoulder, the way her fingers perfectly twine with his own. She is looking up into his eyes, really looking, and smiling too. Slim pink lips turned up slightly at the edges in pure bliss. Nothing else mattered in that world. Nations could be clashing on the verge of total destruction and he wouldn’t notice. His father’s constant berating didn’t faze him. Everything he saw was in a positive light, even the traffic.
But that world isn’t real, and never would be. How could a woman like her ever be interested in him? She requires a man assure of himself, a man willing to fight through any obstacle to hold her. Alex knows in his heart that he isn’t that man. His words come out weak and gargled from indecision.
Alex stares at his monitor. It’s two o’clock, three more hours left in the workday, then the same trip in traffic back home. He’s thinking about how he can possibly muster the strength to fight through the day when a co-workers face appears over the grey cubicle wall.
It’s his “friend,” Jared, who works kitty corner to Alex’s cubicle. They both started working for the company at about the same time, and to Jared, this made them buddies. Jared was the type of guy who loved to hear himself talk, and always had a story to one-up a co-worker’s.
“Hey, bud, I need a favor.”
‘Great, another favor,’ Alex thinks to himself before saying “shoot.”
“You know that fine piece of tail I was telling you about? The one with tits out to here? Well, I finally convinced her to go out with me but she only agreed if she could bring a friend. I guess she doesn’t feel comfortable being alone with me, wonder why?” He says with a sly smile. The woman he is referring to works for the same company, and even in another department, rumors of Jared’s womanizing ways had to of spread to her. For some reason though, women just didn’t seem to be able to resist him. It was as if they needed to confirm the rumors personally. “that’s where you come in, buddy.”
“No, no , no. I tried that once with you, and I promised myself that I’d never do it again.”
“what’s with the hostility? That last girl I hooked you up with was a sure thing. What’s wrong with that?”
What is wrong, Alex thinks, is that she reeked of sex and was covered in hickeys, and probably came to their date straight from the last John, but he just shakes his head and says, “She wasn’t my type.”
“Your type? Man, pussy is pussy,” Jared says and laughs. Alex says nothing and turns back to his computer. “You haven’t heard the best of it. The friend is Sarah Hall.” He says with accentuated relish, “Don’t even try to hide the fact you’ve got a thing for her. I’ve seen the way you stare as she walks by. Who can blame you though? She does have a grade-A ***, that’s for sure.”
Jared’s last comment doesn’t register for Alex, he is still trying to grasp that Sarah Hall has agreed to go on this date. He suddenly feels like his weight has left the center of his body and traveled -to each extremity, his limbs dangle and sway with a mind of their own. The corners of the room start to peel back, he needs to grasp the desk’s edge to stay in his seat. Is this really happening? Surely Jared is just screwing with him. He must’ve heard wrong. How is he supposed to go on a date with her? What would he say? Alex wishes he had Jared’s ability with women. Whenever he is around one, the pounding of his heart drowns out the words sent from his brain.
“That’s what I thought.” Jared says, taking Alex’s silence as an acceptance. With that, he disappears back behind the cubicle barrier, likely looking for the next person to disrupt from working.
Alex can’t stop thinking about Sarah. If he could construct a companion any way he wished the result would look like her. And there she is, just four cubicles down. He can only see the back of her chair from his spot but he pictures her in that tight black skirt that hugs her hips just so. Way out of his league; just about every guy in the company had made a go at her, including Jared, but all had failed. What made her agree to go out with him of all people? He didn’t even realize she knew who he was. He had witnessed Jared pester her every day with advancements to which she always calmly declined. And now she had agreed to go out with him?
Five o’clock comes much quicker on this crisp, clear day. When Alex leaves the office, he is met head-on by a strong wind. He has to struggle to grasp the ends of his coat zipper when the glare of the sun shines especially bright into his eyes. Glancing up, he sees the silver of Jared’s Porsche 911 pull up to the curb. He doesn’t understand how Jared has such an expensive car. After all, they have the same job position within the company. It has to be family money. The way Jared carries himself suggests so; the thrown back shoulders as if ready to fight, yet still the calm, cool persona of someone who knows what they’re doing. It really made Alex sick to his stomach to witness him in action. He was always able to find out how to say exactly what each person wanted to hear, and in a manner that really portrayed sincerity, even though it was all an act. Alex knows better because Jared is always honest with him, the reasoning behind this he can’t decipher, but he thinks it’s because Jared perceives him as harmless.
“Hey, I’m counting on you tonight, so just play it cool.” Jared says behind a pair of pitch dark aviators, and with that, speeds off in a screech of tires.
Play it cool? He has no idea what that’s supposed to mean. One could possibly assume that it means relax, just be yourself. But with Jared, it likely means don’t do anything stupid to mess this up for me. Alex mulls this over while walking to the car. After several frozen minutes of indecision—he could just make up some excuse about his ill father—Alex focuses back on his surroundings, turns the key in the ignition, and pulls out of the parking lot.
An hour into the drive home, Alex zones out toward the direction of the taillights directly in front, flashing on and off like embers in a fire. He still has about forty-five minutes left in his commute so he flips on NPR, and listens to an interview of an ex-gang member who is now in a crime intervention group. What is most interesting is that this group sought to stop crimes before they happened. They go to families and gangs who have recently lost a member to violence, and plead with them to not retaliate. The key to their success though is their reputations. The interviewee had been a high ranking member in a notoriously violent gang. He admitted to, and spoke of his sentence for murder, of which he was sentenced in the second degree at the age of fifteen. Luckily for him, he was a minor when he committed the crime so was fortunate not to lose his whole life to a prison sentence.
Alex finds this all very interesting, but what really captivates him is this idea of respect that these violence-stoppers possessed. They were capable of walking into the projects unarmed, and get in someone’s face to convince them to back down. The only reason these guys walked away with their lives were their reputations. Alex fantasizes about this for awhile. He pictures himself walking into his office and causing a wave of silence to pass across the room. Walking down the hall and having everyone else move out of his way. These thoughts distract him from Sarah for all of about six minutes. He just cannot get over the idea of her.
There’s another possibility, Alex realizes, Meg could just be the other woman’s friend, forced to accompany her to the dinner, making him an invisible fourth wheel. If he acts like it’s a date only to find out at the moment that the truth couldn’t be farther, he’d be ruined. Perhaps it is just better to stay quiet but respectful. Disinterested, even. That seems to work for Jared.
He gets to his house at 6:52, giving him just over an hour before Jared’s silver Porsche will be in his driveway. As soon as he enters the front door, his father’s voice echoes down the hallway.
“About damn time you’re here. I’m hungry.”
“Yeah, yeah, pop. Give--"
“Don’t ‘yeah, yeah’ me. You’re late. Now get me my damn food.”
Alex doesn’t respond, but proceeds toward the kitchen. Opening the fridge he sees that there is almost no pasta left in the tub he left for his father. He spoons the last of it into a bowl and pops it into the microwave. His father is in the living room, lying in bed, watching Monday Night Football. The timer goes off and he retrieves the bowl and brings it to his father, who takes it without a word. While walking up the stairs to his bedroom, a memory surges into his mind.
Alex is helping his father carry a new TV stand they had just gotten, when his grip slips and he drops it onto the tile floor, causing it to crack, and the stand breaks.
“Goddammit! Get out of my way.” His father says as he pushes him aside.
Alex gets up quickly and walks through the kitchen, past his mother, and towards the stairs where he sits down about halfway up, tears starting to escape from the corners of his eyes.
“He’s just a child, dear. You can’t get so frustrated with him.” His mother says in a hushed voice.
“Oh bull****. He’s never going to learn if I baby him every minute of every day. I just don’t understand how he manages to screw everything up. It’s like he tries to piss me off. What am I supposed to do?”
Fifteen years later, Alex knows for sure that that was a defining moment in his upbringing. It formed the mold for who is now. He gets to his bedroom and proceeds straight for the shower. What kind of man says something like that about his son? That time was different from his usual over-excited tirades. He meant it. Why else would he have said it? It’s not like Alex was in the room for him to hear. It wasn’t one of his threats. His tone was calm while he delivered that blow to Alex’s soul.
After showering, he checks the clock to see that he has twenty minutes. His closet doesn’t have much to offer. It is mostly full of khakis and polos of just about every shade of blue that exists. If he knew Jared at all, they’d be going to some high end place, so he reaches in and grabs the one suit he owns, black with an almost imperceptible grey pinstripe. He matches it with a white dress shirt and a royal blue tie.
Standing in front of the mirror he actually looks decent, if only the suit fit him properly. It’s actually from his father’s closet. After a minute or so of checking himself out, he breaks away from the mirror and heads back downstairs.
“Hey, Pop. I’m going out to dinner with a few coworkers in a little bit. Is there anything you need before I go?”
“You’re going out? I never thought I’d see the day. There wouldn’t be any chance of a woman’s presence, would there?”
Alex rolls his eyes but decides it is best to say no. Otherwise his father would ridicule him and go on about his inability to provide grandchildren.
“There’s a surprise, well at least make yourself useful and grab me a beer before you go on your little man-date.”
He grabs the beer when the noise of a car horn pierces through the blare of the TV. Jack quickly brings the can to his father and whirls around back towards the front door, banging his knee into the same chair in the process.
“Do you even know how to walk without messing up? Jesus Christ. Try not to break every goddamn thing in the house on your way out. And lock the door.”
Alex ignores him and continues towards the door while rubbing his knee. He tosses his jacket on and steps halfway into his shoes as he heads out the door. Jared doesn’t release the horn until Alex is finally in the car and seated beside him.
“Easy with the horn, you’ll give my father a heart attack.”
“You live with your dad? ****, man, you need me more than I thought.”
After a life-threatening drive with Jared behind the wheel, they arrive at the restaurant. Alex steps out of the car and is struck with the desire to kiss the pavement and thank God that he is still alive. As soon as they walk through the front door it is clear that the hostess has met Jared before. There is a glimpse of recognition in her eyes when she gushes out an enthusiastic ‘how are you’ and motions for them to follow.
Alex sees Sarah at their table across the room. It’s her hair. The amber lighting in the restaurant gives it a soft glow. His heart begins to race quicker and quicker with each step towards her. She is in a tight black, one-shoulder dress accentuated with a pearl necklace and white purse. As he and Jared get closer, Sarah looks up and smiles. She is looking at Jared though. Before Alex sees what’s coming Jared places himself directly across the table from her, forcing himself to sit across from the other woman.
“Hello boys. Alex, this is my friend Amy,” Sarah says.
Alex reaches his hand towards Amy’s and forces out a hello, trying to sound calm.
“It’s nice to meet you, Alex.”
Across the room a man laughs outrageously and someone drops their silverware.
“Well isn’t this place nice. How’d you know about it, Jared?” Sarah says.
Alex focuses on the dark wood beams that checker the ceiling.
` “Oh you know me; I’m all about the best. You have to try the lobster tempura here, it’s great.”
Alex tries to catch Jared’s attention during the conversation. He wants to let him know that he knows exactly what he is up to.
This was the trick then, he thinks. It would be better to leave than suffer through two hours of Jared’s antics. Then he looks across the table towards Amy and realizes he doesn’t have it in him to skip out on her. After all, he couldn’t afford to waste the opportunity, and she could be a nice girl for all he knew.
Appetizers are eaten and gone and Alex knows that Amy is a fifth grade teacher, likes to get outside, and watch romance comedies. She’s cute with wavy blonde hair and a narrow face with high cheek bones. When she smiles her lips remind Alex of Sarah’s and he has to struggle to keep from staring at her.
“So Alex, have you ever been out to Wyoming? It’s amazing, I tell you, the night sky there is completely surreal.” Amy says.
The question troubles him more than it should and there is a long pause before he says, “No. I’ve never been out of the state.”
“Seriously? How the hell haven’t you left the state in 28 years?”
Sarah and Amy both stare at Alex and wait for a response. He blinks around and says, “I guess I just never had reason to, never needed more than what is here.” The truth is that Sarah isn’t in Wyoming, and Alex couldn’t imagine a world without her, much less a reason to travel a thousand miles from her.
The silence lasts a little longer until Jared says, “Well…alright…,” then looks back to Sarah and says, “Anyway, I have a lake house upstate, you should join me this weekend.”
It isn’t a question. He just states it like it is a fact, already happened. Alex feels like he is about to pass out, he can’t take it. More than anything he wants her to say no.
She doesn’t. “That sounds great; it’s got to be beautiful this time of year.” Her smile is full blast and she has the same look in her eyes as Alex’s dreams, except they are beaming at Jared. A sharp pain stabs at the left side of his sternum and he feels weak.
He turns back at Amy whose face is looking toward him like he’s a C+. “I’m sorry but I just realized I forgot to give my father his medicine. He can’t get it without me, I need to go.”
This of course isn’t true, but it is the best excuse he can come up with. He just can’t deal with it anymore, and he figures he’d probably already blown any chance with Amy. Jared looks him straight in the eyes for a few seconds, but then turns away as if he was never there.
“Alright, you going to get a cab?”
“Yeah, don’t worry.” Alex looks back at Amy who now has a look of confusion. He wonders if he just messed up then, that maybe he hadn’t blown it already, but he decides he is already up, there is no way he can sit back at the table.
He turns and leaves the table, not even giving Sarah a chance to say goodbye. What happened is still too immediate for Alex to process his thoughts. He steps outside and it feels much colder. The wind kicks up and forces a few tears from his eyes while he hails a cab.
The cabbie drops him off just down the street from his house; Alex doesn’t want the noise of the car in the drive to alert his father of his presence. He walks up to the front door and pauses, and hopes his father is asleep already. The noise of the TV echoes down the hall as he enters and steps out of his shoes.
“Back already?”
His stomach plummets. Deaf every other minute of the day, he thinks, figures he hears me now. He walks down the hall, dragging his feet as he enters the kitchen with a look of complete resignation. “Friends couldn’t stand you any longer, eh? Well, why don’t you do something for your father and make some more pasta. You didn’t give me enough before; I am a grown man for Christ’s sake.”
Alex’s head dips to his chest and stays there for a moment. Resolved now, he grabs the big pot used to make enough pasta for a week in, and fills it with water. He doesn’t understand how his father can ignore everything he does for him and continually abuse him, his only family left.
Bubbles start to form at the base of the pot, each randomly releasing as they ascend towards the surface of the water. Alex puts his hands on the edge of the counter and stares vacantly at the blue flame. The surface of the water now bounces around rapidly, indicating a temperature over 200 degrees. Alex doesn’t pour in the pasta though; he just remains stationary, staring at the flame. Then he quickly reaches for the handles and lifts it from the stove. A cloud of heat from the water rises to his neck and face. He proceeds towards the living room where the sound of the TV covers his approach. Standing just behind the bed that had been moved into the room six months ago, his shadow casts across the length of his father’s body. The old man looks up to see his son holding a giant pot over his head.
“What the h--"
Alex slowly tilts the pot so that a thin stream escapes the lip and falls onto his father’s forehead. The old man erupts with screams of pain and goes rigid. Alex tilts the pot even more, causing the water to cascade down in a hiss of steam, silencing his father to muddled moans.
The hiss of water being evaporated on the burner brings Alex back to reality and he turns down the gas and dumps the noodles in the pot. Outside, rain patters against the windows and the dark shadows of trees bend and sway in the wind.