Issue 10.2 Spring 2015

10.2 cover image

 

Artist Statement:

For me, storytelling is all about pursuing the literary truth. The key word there is “literary.” When we fabricate stories and embellish details that are far too exciting to happen in our own lives, it may seem superficial. But just because we’ve never been part of a manhunt in the Everglades, or caught up in a series of drug-smuggling missions across the Canadian border or whatever your story is about, no one is immune to feeling something authentic and engaging from a good narrative.   

Every attempt to purse that truth is like a prayer that something meaningful ends up on the page. Most of the time, the result is simply a collage of incoherent sentences condemned to being erased, scratched out, or the cause of buying a new keyboard because your backspace key somehow ended up five feet from your desk after a vicious proofreading session. But every once in a while, you come up with something that you know people might actually like, and once you put yourself out there, as pointless and pathetic as it may seem, it starts to feel “true.” And then there are people like me, who are just good at everything. So for those reading my work, I would advise against reading it in public, as the sheer amount of simultaneous laughing and crying you’re about to do could distract those around you.

Anyway, I hope you like my story, and at least find some sense of truth in it.

 

Impulsive Immunity

 

Adam Brockman
        

 

“Is that all?” the café worker, whose name I probably should have known, said to me in the same, sarcastic tone he always did. “You know, most people like to change it up once in a while. But hey, if it ain’t broke…”
           

“Yea, I’m fine,” I said.
           

“You know them?” he asked, ceasing the familiar task of bagging the sandwich, placing the receipt inside the bag and returning the credit card.
           

“What? Uh, know whom?”
           

“That couple you’ve been eyeing the whole time you’ve been standing here.”
           

“No, I was just… I didn’t-”
           

“Haha, I’m just messing with you. See ya tomorrow.”
           

I guess he was right. Why wouldn’t I be back the next day? It was affordable, close to the office, and not to mention, having been there enough times, there was always the possibility of a discount when he was in a good mood. It also didn’t hurt that the timing lined up perfectly with Kate’s schedule since I didn’t have to travel very far, granting us the possibility to occasionally meet for lunch. If she wasn’t too busy, that is. Of course next time I would have to endure a possible reference to me apparently being a creep and staring at people by the window, seeing as that was the café person’s twisted sense of humor. But I had another 24 hours until then, and I didn’t want to waste it dwelling on the struggles of tomorrow, especially not during my peaceful walk back to the office.

 

Receiving a call from my soon-to-be brother-in-law wasn’t exactly something I had anticipated during the return to my cubicle. However, I decided to do the right thing and alleviate the potential guilt of not answering the phone.
           

“Hey Glen,” I said.
           

“I swear to God you’re screening my calls.”
           

“No… no, I’ve been really busy. Sorry, it’s just-”
           

“Jesus, you two really are perfect for each other,” he said sarcastically. “Take a joke for once.”
           

“Uh… so how are you?” I said, managing to set my sandwich down and open my files while simultaneously attempting to move the conversation toward its conclusion.
           

“Well, for one thing, the tour’s actually going pretty good,” he replied. “We’re still not making a cent, but things are gonna change soon. I can feel it. But you don’t wanna hear about the band. How’s my bro doing?”
           

“Not bad. Ya know, can’t complain.”

 

“That’s it? You’re ‘not bad?’ You’re about to be married for Christ’s sake! I’m starting to think I’m more excited than you! My sister found a guy who’s not a complete douche! Trust me, she’s way better off with an office guy like you who makes serious bank than one of the lowlifes in the band.”
           

“Well, I do what I can-”

 

“Look, if it weren’t for you, she would’ve actually ended up with one of those guys again. Seriously, there were a couple of times before you two met that I really thought-”
           

“You know, I really don’t think-”
           

“Speaking of which, I’ve been meaning to tell you that I made sure we don’t have any shows the week before the wedding so we can throw you a kickass bachelor party!”
           

“Yea I don’t know if that’s really the best idea.”
           

“Relax, it won’t be anything too crazy. We’ll keep it tame enough for you. You are settling down after all. It’ll just be like college-type stuff.”
           

“College-type stuff?”

 

“Well, maybe not stuff you did in college. But hey, look at you now.”

 

“Uh… thanks.”

 

“Seriously, though, you’re not gonna want to miss out on your last night of freedom. Besides, it’s tradition.”
           

“I know, it’s just… all that stuff… it’s just not me.”
           

“We’ll see. Anyway, I’m late for rehearsal. Talk to you later.” Finally Glen hung up and I was able to officially begin the latter half of the day.

           

“Wait, you’re here?” David asked me, interrupting my daily routine of examining raw data, interpreting graphs, and typing in numbers.
           

“Yea. Why wouldn’t I be?” I replied, lacking the energy to respond with some sarcastic remark about being a ghost or something.
           

“We figured you got sick and just forgot to tell anyone. Did you not get the email about the meeting?”
           

“Uh, no… well, probably. I guess I must’ve missed it. Sorry.”
             

“You know this one was mandatory, right? I mean, the whole financial department was there.”
           

“Yea, I’ll be sure to make the next one,” I said, unsuccessful in making him leave so I could get back to work.
           

“And you’re okay with this? You used to show up to these things. And if you’re like the rest of us and want that promotion it would probably be wise to-”
           

“David… I’m fine. I’ll talk to someone about it and get it fixed.”
           

“Alright, alright, I just figured you might actually be human and want a raise.”
           

“Yea, no… I definitely would have gone it’s just-”
           

“You know, between you and me, I think my chances are pretty good,” David continued. “It looks like they really might hire from within, for this position anyway. That Kristina chick is most likely interviewing for the job in HR, so we’re good.”
           

“Wait,” I said, slowly turning towards David while struggling to appear as if I was simply asking because I was curious. “What?”
           

“What else would she be applying for? I mean, unless someone needs a new secretary-”   
           

“No, I mean… who is she?”
           

“Oh, you haven’t met her?” he asked. “Yea, she sat in at the meeting, as if the executives were scoping her out or something. That actually would’ve been a good time for you two to meet if you would’ve-”
           

“Goddamnit,” I said getting up, leaving all of my files spread out on my desk.
           

“Well,” David said, casually raising his voice as I walked toward the exit staircase. “You’ll probably run into her sometime.”

           

Pacing down the stairs, slamming the door to my Lexus and careening out of the parking lot felt entirely foreign, probably because it had always remained a fantasy in the eight years I’d been working there. I’d never seen the needle become quite so elevated as I approached the on-ramp to the interstate, desperately attempting to find some sort of solution. It couldn’t have been her. Lots of people have that name. What were the odds that she of all people…what I needed was to reflect, to assess what had happened, just like I’d learned to do all these years. But accelerating across the freeway forbade me the opportunity to think, offering me the brief release from the ether that sheltered me from a downpour of ancient memories. It seemed that if I just had some time to process everything, it would all return to normal. But no matter how much I simply wanted to think, the illumination of the streetlights beneath the foggy evening became the dimly lit bar that one night. The headlights from across the highway resembled the first light of dawn the next morning, while the bitter breeze that pierced through my slightly lowered window screamed with the regret of not giving her my jacket at the park when it was less than fifty degrees outside.
   
The house was the last place I expected to end up when I left, but where else was I supposed to go besides our new neighborhood? Obviously, no one else was going to be home for a few hours and it would be a good place to figure out what happened. After I pulled into the driveway, however, I found that in the midst of a few messages from work there was a voicemail from Kate. I really had to get back to the office, seeing as I basically took a second, extended lunch break. However, I had yet to think of an alibi for my absence, and David could probably handle whatever it was I was supposed to be doing. Plus I figured that if I was going to have a successful marriage, I had to eventually prepare for the appropriate lifestyle because apparently that’s what married people do. After all, it seemed like it would look good if I were to show a little spontaneity once in a while.

 

“Hey stranger. Glad you could make it,” Kate said as I sat down at her table by the window.
           

“Hey. I don’t have a whole lot of time but I can stay for a little bit.”
           

“Relax, I know you’re busy. I just needed a place to hang out for a few minutes and could use some company. I’ve almost convinced the potential homeowners to sign the new contract after we negotiated for a better deal. I just need to give them some time to think about it.”
           

“That sounds like fun,” I replied, trying not to sound sarcastic.
           

“Well, it is,” she said. “Things have actually started to pick up since they got the new offer. The job is actually starting to get exciting again. So how was your day?”
           

“It was fine.”
           

“C’mon, something interesting must have happened.”
           

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t wanna bore you with all the financial jargon.”
           

“Haha, good point,” she replied. “I guess you do know me after all.”
           

As I stared out the window, I tried to crack a smile to signal that I was listening so she didn’t think I was ignoring her.
           

“Is everything okay?” she asked. “It was Glen wasn’t it? He’d mentioned he wanted to talk to you about something, but he just said it was ‘guy stuff.’”

 

“No… no. Nothing’s wrong it’s just… I don’t know.” For a second I thought I made her mad and that we were going to have a fight right in the middle of the coffee place. But then her face went from confused to having that look like she was catching on to something and she was proud that she had determined what it was.

 

“It’s okay,” she said confidently. “I understand this is all new for you. I know you don’t like hearing about it, but when I first got married at 19, we weren’t ready to settle down. We were young and we did what young people do. And that’s why it didn’t work out. That’s why I’m with you and we’re gonna have that perfect marriage. Just be thankful you didn’t have to make the mistakes I did to figure that out.”

 

“You’re right. I didn’t.”

 

“Well,” she said as she picked up her purse and all of her work stuff. “That should be enough time. I’m gonna get back to it. So are we good then?”

 

The elevator ride back up to the office became a convenient thirty-second window to formulate an excuse for my departure. I narrowed it down between having diarrhea and leaving some important documents at home. I had a whole three floors before arriving so I figured I’d just wing it and pick one at random.

 

“There you are!” my boss said as he saw me enter the office. “What happened?”

 

“Family emergency,” I replied quickly.

 

“Jesus, is everything okay?”

 

“It’s fine. False alarm.”

 

“Thank God. You need to go home for the day? Maybe take some time to-”

 

“No… I’m good.”

 

Once I placed my files back in order, rearranged my desk, and threw away the last of my half-eaten sandwich from before, it seemed as if a typical Tuesday had officially resumed. I finished the budget report, finalized all of the projections for the next quarter and forecasted the expected revenue. All that was left was to get all of the paperwork signed by the same person I just lied to about why I left. After placing everything in my designated binder, I put all of my other files back in order and headed toward my boss’s office.

 

“Jeremy?” It was that all too familiar voice. I was so close to completing yet another part of my day in the absence of whatever this was. I was so close to one more fleeting moment without the one thing that sought to ruin my current lifestyle.

 

“Uh… yea, hey,” I replied, struggling to locate the wall and lean against it in order to appear at least somewhat comfortable.

 

“How long has it been?” she asked, also leaning against the wall as she held a stack of papers and folders upright against her suit jacket.  

 

“Too long,” I stuttered. “So… what brings you here?”

 

“I’ve been meeting with the hiring managers about the new coordinator position. I’d been doing some work over at C&G and I heard there was an opening over here. But I guess I could ask you the same question.”

 

“I-I I was just about to get the budget report signed.”

 

“Shut up. Really? Haha, yea, as if you just happened to be stopping by while carrying a binder,” she said sarcastically. “I never figured you’d end up in finance, though. I mean, you were always into books and… ya know… creative stuff.”

 

“Well, numbers can be creative… and, well, it pays the bills, so there’s that.”

 

“Hey, not judging.” she said. “With the economy how it is, you gotta know how to make some money.”
After a few minutes, making conversation while trying to sound remotely sane proved to be almost impossible.

 

“I… um…. I should probably-”

 

“Yea, definitely, I’ll let you get back to it,” she said confidently.

 

As I turned back in my initial direction, I buried my focus into the list of graphs and charts that filled my binder. But something about them was different. No matter how hard I tried, the skill set of look, calculate, and interpret that consumed every daily objective had finally eluded me. They only appeared as random pictures and symbols. Desperately attempting to at least steady my grasp on these meaningless files in the now liquefied binder, I tried to find comfort in the fact that all I had to do was walk a dozen feet before they became the company’s problem.

 

“Oh, and Jeremy,” Kristina said walking back toward me. “It was nice catching up with you. Hopefully it’s not the last time, haha.”

 

“Wait… the last time,” I said perhaps a little too eagerly. “What do you mean the last time?”

 

“Ya know, cause of the job, remember?” she said, taking a few steps back, flipping through her folders in the process.

 

“Uh… yea. I thought maybe you meant…”

 

She glanced back up at me, displaying a brief yet familiar look of compassion and uncertainty before looking down, casually smiling, and then sighing as if she was exhaling whatever jolt of life that had slightly broken through the façade of our conversation.

 

“We won’t be in the same department if it works out, but hey, I just might see you at a Christmas party or something.”

 

After regaining her composure, she walked back toward the main lobby and disappeared somewhere behind some door in the back, briefly eclipsing one last ray of sunlight that gleamed through one of the windows in the corner before she was gone. And as I stood in the awkward area separating my usual workspace from the exit staircase, I became lost in the glimmer’s trajectory that radiated the familiar finality of that night. Just before tasting the most potent memories in my current plague, my boss sternly requested that I stop daydreaming and give him the quarterly report.

 

I think it was the brevity of each street sign passing behind me that rendered me unable to stop replaying every tiny detail of our conversation. Dropping all of my paperwork, racing through the hallways and once again entering my vehicle in a not-so-subtle fashion all pulsed with some unfamiliar wave of consciousness, strangling me from beneath the surface and awakening me from… something. All those lost memories finally flooded from the confines of some other life, pouring out onto every intersection ahead of me with each shifting gear. They haunted the café that provided me a consistent daily meal. They projected through two people sitting at a table by the window, ignorant of what lies on the other side. And yet still, I found myself searching for some way to explain everything. Somehow, it all had to make sense. There had to be some reason why my fiancé, my annual salary of $90,000, and my life comprised primarily of comfort and stability were lost somewhere behind buses, pedestrians, buildings, and the one person who catalyzed all of this. But my struggle to find this reason began to dissipate as I maintained my grip on the wheel, bolted onto the freeway and rolled down the window, failing to resist this first breath of life that had been clawing from within for so long.

 

 

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