The Unemployed Writer

It’s a good Sunday evening to sit in front of the computer and say howdy or doody to the couch. I suppose I’ve been falling ever deeper into the crevices here, staring at the TV and watching the dog try and eat everything in sight. For that very reason, I suppose I’m feeling the burn for having spent the last two days exercising (if incredibly small in scope) by throwing a baseball around and hitting some fly balls. The running is new too.

It’s definitely spring time though and my body is going to be getting a nice little wake up call in the next few days as I start trying to squeeze out the most from six months of sitting on my arse, watching that lovely television.  Long story short - I’m sore. All sorts of muscles are in oh so many stages of disarray. Which brings me to some story action tonight. This an exercise from John Gardner’s The Art of Fiction. Asks for a three page monologue that tells a story; I got carried away.

Jeremy licked his lips and smoothed his overabundant eyebrows carefully. “You know it was a mistake. I’ve been protecting you for years. Why would I give it up now?”

He wondered that very same thing himself. The day had begun like any other Tuesday – stark, rainy, and much too early. His morning rituals were completed in much the same manner, all speed and efficiency, no pomp. Wake up, in the shower, sit up, push up, food down, shoes on, out the door. None of the pristine walls in his studio apartment, nor the carefully brushed furniture, were a hair out of place when he left. Everything was normal.

“You don’t understand. It was a complete mistake. I’ve never intentionally hurt you before. Just hear me out.” And yet here he was, surrounded physically and emotionally by a single small woman. Ann was no ordinary woman, of course. Their relationship took on so many dimensions he wished he would have stayed with physics in college, if only for the nerdy metaphors. In the ten by ten locked office space in the back of the Ikea where she worked though, there was only one dimension he need concern himself with. The flat, unhinged snarl looking him directly in the face.

“Okay. Here’s how it went. You know I’m very careful about these things. I woke up and everything was normal. I showered and ate, the usual deal. Then I left. It was a little early. I don’t know how I managed it. I’m never early, but today I was. When I got outside to the bus stop, I had fifteen minutes to wait. I didn’t even realize until I was there for three minutes and was still waiting.”

At this point, Jeremy was quivering. His suit, freshly pressed every morning, began to wrinkle and expand as he fidgeted about. Sweat from his brow greased both palms as he wiped repeatedly, subsequently finding its way to his pants. His hair, normally slick and hard, a corporate helmet, unruffled by the wind born exhaust, humid alleyways, or inconsiderate fellow sidewalkers rejected any attempt to remain under control. Already the brilliantine he used oozed down his neck and onto his ears. Only the constant swiping at his forehead kept it from his eyes.

He sighed shakily and continued, “So I decided to use the extra time and get my coffee earlier than normal. I didn’t want to stand in the cold. Walking is good for me. The doctor told me if I walk three miles a day, I could lose twenty five pounds. So I walked to Starbucks. The walk was actually rather nice. I got to Starbucks and ordered the mocha I always get, as many shots, that is – three, as I always get. I’d never been to this one though. You would think, because it’s only ten minutes from my place, I would. Usually I go to the one across from the office before I head in. It’s quicker and easier, and the girls all know me….yes, yes of course. I’ll go on.”

 

The rigid backed Granas chair he sat in, probably assembled by some lazy college student on a break looking for a place to sit, creaked under his weight as he shifted about. The walls, all blue and yellow, covered with service plaques and permits blazed around him, pushing in and squeezing more and more sweat from the various pores of his body. Ann’s lithe frame, perfectly shaped and constantly attended to, now dressed in the tropical wool suit of a floor manager, remained standing still, a hungry lioness ready to pounce.

 

“So, the girl at this Starbucks, where I’ve never been. She messed up my coffee. I can’t change my order like that. It just isn’t right. It messes up the whole day. So, I told her I’d wait for another. That’s when I missed the bus. She was just giving it to me when the bus pulled away and I wasn’t by any means going to run after it. I will tell you, though. I was quite upset. I have never been late for work, and I was not going to start today. Of course I called a cab. I did not however foresee the pileup on the freeway. Yes, you saw it. We were stuck in it for at least an hour. The driver was incredibly nice though. He even stopped the meter. Saved me some money.” What Jeremy neglected to share was that he had railed at the poor man for at least half of their time in the car to find a way around, and that the only reason the man had stopped the meter was to attempt and calm Jeremy down. In fact, Jeremy had failed to pay any of the fare at all on his way out of the car opting quite angrily to walk the rest of the way, directly off the freeway.

“When he finally let me off downtown I was more than a little upset. You know how I cannot stand to be thrown from my schedule. It’s a shame, really. If none of this had happened, I wouldn’t have needed to make a complaint to the transit authority. I really had no choice. Regardless of my doctor’s orders, I wasn’t about to walk any further, so I stopped to wait for the bus. It came alright. Drove right on past me. It was then I realized I left my phone at home too.

“The transit authority didn’t help one bit. I couldn’t very well go to work. I was unprepared, and couldn’t count on just any bus to stop. I marched in there and asked them as best I could what I should do. I was absolutely calm with the clerk. Those accusations are ridiculous.” Anything but calm, Jeremy’s visit had left the poor clerk in all but a body cast. The bruises on his knuckles still showed after three days.

The tinge of blood in his eye, and the slight incline of his lip signaled Jeremy’s absolute conviction that he hadn’t wronged Ann. “And so the bloody ridiculous police locked me away for three days. I can tell you now. It was such sweet relief to see your gorgeous face with the bail money. And before you even say it, I had no choice. They were already on to me. Question after question. I had no choice. They knew about Jack. I can tell. It’s amazing, but they knew. It was in his eyes. Absolutely accidental. And on top of that, they already knew. So, if you think about it really, it wasn’t my fault at all.”

Smugly and much more calmly than anything he had done in her presence, Jeremy looked Ann in the eye and shrugged. She shot once, quickly and directly between the eyes, through the puddle of brilliantine and sweat.