Long Days (881 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 2 on 1 review (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by JMG114 (View user info) at 2006-11-06 08:14:04 EST
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
Jonathan Brennan sat back in his Seattle hotel bed, wondering if he should switch on the television. "Watching hotel TV seems so depressing, even if it's porn," he thought, deciding against it.
He stretched himself out on top of the queen-size comforter and wiggled his fingers slowly above his head. He then outstretched his arms on the bed and exhaled, imagining that he and the bed were one large, sedentary creature.
He glanced at the time, a quarter to nine at night. He thought to himself, "Sam hasn't called yet."
He closed his eyes. The phone rang. In the middle of the fourth ring, he picked it up. "Hello?"
"Jon? It's Sam!"
Jonathan imagined Sam sitting at his desk in New York with two mugs of coffee and an Internet browser window open to a pornography site. "Hey Sam."
"Hey buddy!"
Jonathan pictured his business partner rubbing himself in anticipation of exploring the pornography site. He hoped that the conversation wouldn't last long.
Jonathan said, "Hey. I made it in okay and we're still on schedule for tomorrow."
Sam said, "That's great, dude!" Jonathan rolled his eyes. He wished that Sam would stop calling him "dude." It should've ended when they had graduated high school together twenty years prior.
Sam continued, "This is going to be it, man. We're going to be fucking rollin' in it. New fuckin' houses, new cars . . .shit, do you realize that we'll probably be able to buy places in that new Wilton development in Connecticut? We can be the guys that guys like us used to work for! It's gonna fuckin' rock!"
Jonathan winced, wondering again what was on his hotel's cable channels. "Yeah," he said quietly, "It'll be great."
"Hell man, you'll be able to buy Nicole any college education she wants!"
Jonathan disliked it when Sam talked about Jonathan's family, and especially his daughter Nicole. Was it Jonathan's imagination that Sam's stare always seemed to linger on the 13-year-old a little longer each time he came over to visit?
"Well," Jonathan replied, "She's sharp. She'll be fine."
"Dude, you sound tired."
Without thinking, Jonathan replied, "I'm probably jetlagged. I'll call you tomorrow after the meeting."
"Before, man! Call me before the meeting so we can go over all of our shit, okay?"
"Fine."
Sam said, "Good night, dude," but Jonathan didn't hear it. He had hung up the phone and had gone back to breathing slowly on the bed. He smelled the room. Its aroma reminded him of something long since passed. He looked to the left and sighed as his eyes caught his business presentation sitting on a small desk.
Jonathan Brennan and Sam Rotali, friends since junior high school, had started the Brentali Corporation. They programmed and sold software solutions to the food service industry. Capitalizing on the Y2K scare and an intuitive user interface, their business had enjoyed modest prosperity in the northeastern United States. They had sold software packages to numerous independent franchises, and it wasn't long before major fast food chains took an interest. When a multinational client called with a serious offer, Jonathan flew out to Seattle to discuss Brentali's offerings with its executives.
Jonathan sighed again. He tried to figure out what it was that so annoyed him about his planned business presentation. From there, he wondered what it was that so annoyed him about Sam, Nicole, and his wife, Jessica. Then, he wondered what it was that so annoyed him about himself.
"How are you?" he asked out loud.
"Crappy," he said, "I'm 38 and I'm still talking to myself. Out loud for Christ's sake."
"Oh, whatever. You're allowed. It's been a long day."
Jonathan tried imagining what a short day would be like. In three minutes of thought, he realized that he was riding the crest of 20 years' worth of long days.
"Fuck, really?" he asked himself.
"Do you remember," his voice dropped low, "The smell of Jessica's vagina?"
He chuckled to himself, allowing the memories of their first month together to pour before his eyes like a foggy paint. The college dorm. The roommate. The train. The flowers. The flowers. The flowers . . .
He looked down to find that his right hand had strayed to his crotch. He smiled and a warm wave of self-pity flowed from his gut to his groin to his forehead, which throbbed slightly.
He moved his hand away and closed his eyes. When he next opened them, it was 8AM.
He felt himself in his clothes from the day before, shifted slightly, and groaned. He was reminded of how much he hated sleeping in his clothes. The sun came through the half-open window blinds and he held up his hand to block it. He pulled himself out of bed.
Jonathan removed his clothes and stepped into the bathroom. He turned on the shower, then turned around and twisted the sink taps. Bowing before the mirror like a holy ritual gone stale, he splashed lukewarm water on his face, wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, and stared into the mirror.
Nothing looked back.
He squinted at his non-reflection. There was the sink, the towel, the shower, and the bathroom door in an otherwise empty room. For a moment, he thought, "This would make a good photo," but shoveled panic onto any further creative thoughts.
He wasn't in the mirror.
"What the fuck?" he asked out loud. He pressed his fingers to the mirror, closed his eyes, and shook his head. He opened his eyes. Nothing looked back. He looked at his hands and down at his body. Everything was clear and visible. Was it a dream? It had to be. He pinched and slapped himself, momentarily wincing not at the pain, but at the sound of hand against flesh. Still, his senses did not deceive him, and he was very much awake.
Jonathan's mind became curiously bare, as if he couldn't focus on the sudden turn of events. Should I go back to bed? Do I have a tumor? Am I dead?
He looked out of the bathroom and back at the bed, half-expecting to see his corpse resting peacefully in yesterday's clothes. The bed was bare. He looked at the window, wondering if he had jumped out of it in his sleep. He pinched his nose, he blinked hard, and he bit his tongue.
He sat down on the bed, picked up the phone, and dialed 911.
"911 operator, what's your emergency?"
Jonathan realized that he should have planned a better description for his symptoms. "I'm having some sort of weird . . .thing happening. I feel okay, but it's just that I . . . I . . ."
"Calm down sir," the operator said before Jonathan even realized that he wasn't calm, "What's the matter?"
Jonathan spoke slower. "I was in the bathroom, and now . . ." He stood up and examined himself in a small mirror on the bedroom wall. He wasn't there.
"Oh God!" he turned away and shut his eyes tightly. He felt lightheaded. Was it a tumor? "Send someone over here! Something's wrong with me!"
An ambulance and a police car arrived. Two paramedics entered Jonathan's room to find him pacing back and forth, wrapped in a white bed sheet. "Can you see me?" he asked, out of breath, "Can you see me? Can you?"
The paramedics looked at each other. The larger and darker of the two said, "Calm down, sir. We can see you just fine. What's wrong?"
"You can see me?" Jonathan asked quickly, then turned to the mirror. "Then look! There! Look in the mirror!"
The paramedics looked and the police officer entered the room.
"Holy shit," the large EMT said, "I can't see you in the mirror!"
"Me neither!" agreed his partner, a small young woman.
The police officer looked in the mirror without a word. He saw himself and the two paramedics, but no Jonathan.
"Holy shit," the cop said, "Like a fucking vampire."
Jonathan's heart beat loudly enough for him to hear. His legs wobbled and the large paramedic caught him as he fell towards the floor.
"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me?" Jonathan wheezed.
The cop whispered some unintelligible words into his radio. He looked around the room. The paramedics sat Jonathan down on his bed and performed a short, routine physical examination.
"You seem fine . . .perfectly fine," the young paramedic said, "Is your only symptom not being able to see your reflection?"
Jonathan snapped, "That's a pretty big fucking symptom, don't you think?"
"Easy, man," the officer said, "Take it easy."
The paramedics began packing up their equipment. The short paramedic said, "Well, if there's nothing physically wrong with you then we can't do too much."
The big EMT nodded. "I'm sure it's just a temporary thing."
Jonathan protested, "But I can't see my own reflection! I'm not a vampire or anything stupid like that! What the hell is wrong with me?"
The cop had left when no one had been looking. Indeed, even the paramedics looked uncomfortable and seemed in a hurry to leave.
The smaller one said, "You'll be fine. Just so long as other people can see you, right?"
Before Jonathan knew it, they were gone.
********************************************
"Nobody likes me at school. I wish you'd just send me to Westfield Junior High. Jenna said that I'd love it there."
Jonathan switched off the television and gave his 11-year-old daughter a small smile. Nicole stood tall and beautiful at an ecotone of youth and adolescence. Her dark sapphire eyes were framed in pale red pools. She had been crying again. Jonathan had his usual thought. "I can't believe I made something that can breathe, smile, and cry."
"Sunshine," he sat back, remembering how warm she had been when she sat on his lap years ago, "I know that it's rough now. I had a really tough time in school, too. At least you've never gotten beaten up," he said, realizing that it was the wrong thing to say.
He pictured her on his lap again, wanting nothing more than to make everything better and to make her smile. "Sunshine, your mother and I want you to be happy."
"So why won't you send me to Westfield? Jenna goes there! I know I'd make a lot of friends and be happier! I hate it at Sacred Heart!"
Jonathan instantly thought of the Virgin Mary and wondered when Nicole would lose her virginity. He closed his eyes.
"Sunshine, you're getting a much better education at Sacred Heart. It'll really help you come college time."
"I don't care about college time! I care about right now! I hate it there so much, and going back there every day is making me hate it and you and Mom more and more!"
Her nostrils flared. Jonathan glanced down, hoping that she couldn't smell his shame.
"Sunshine, what do you think the kids at Sacred Heart see when they look at you?"
Nicole wrinkled her nose and said, "Some dumb loser girl who's taller than everyone else and gets yelled at by the teachers all the time."
"And what do you see? When you look at yourself? Do you see the same thing?"
Nicole rolled her eyes. "I don't want another psychologist. I want a goddamn father."
Jonathan thought for a moment. What reply would be the most loving? What would put his indescribable feelings into describable words?
Jessica, who had overheard from the kitchen, stormed in and sent Nicole to her room.
"Honestly, you just sit there and let her talk to you like that?"
********************************************
The paramedics and police were gone. Had it been a dream? Did he even call them in the first place? Of course he had. What was happening?
It was 8:45. He had to leave in fifteen minutes. He had to leave in fifteen minutes and he hadn't showered, shaved, or seen himself in the mirror at all.
Bleeding from two minor shaving cuts, he left the hotel room. While sitting in the town car that the company executives had sent for him, he thought about The Battle of the Aleutian Islands, the last military conflict between sovereign nations to be fought on American soil. He had wondered, had there not been another since then? Something about Vietnam, but the Vietnamese never landed in the U.S. That couldn't be it.
He checked himself in a small mirror in the back of the car. He still couldn't see himself. The town car arrived at its destination in downtown Seattle.
With two small (now hardened) cuts on his face, he entered the corporate offices and was ushered before a boardroom of six suits, each of which stood next to each other in size order. Jonathan was reminded of a childhood game and, for a moment, wondered if the executives had ever tried stacking each other vertically in size order.
"Have a seat, Mr. Brennan," a member of the collective offered. Jonathan sat down.
Throughout his presentation, he hoped that his physical appearance hadn't suffered as a result of his inability to use a mirror that morning. He sporadically wondered if the six-member corporate collective traveled together as a group, interlocking together to roll from place to place.
He sat down after nine minutes. They asked him to sit outside. After five more minutes, they called him back to the boardroom.
"We'll buy 600 units to start on a trial basis. If it works for us, we'll scale it up next year."
A multi-millionaire in two sentences. Sam would be so happy.
They asked, "How soon can we have it?"
"We'll ship it by week's end," Jonathan said. His face itched.
"Great. We'll phone accounting and transfer the funds to whichever account you specify."
Six handshakes, some thank-yous, and a trip to accounting later, Jonathan walked out of the building where the town car was waiting for him. He climbed in and his cell phone rang.
"What the fuck, dude? You were supposed to call me before the meeting! Before, remember? I said before!"
Jonathan said, "We sold 550 more than projected. The money's in my account, but I'll transfer your half when I get back to New York."
Sam whispered, "We sold 600? Are you shitting me?"
Jonathan waited a moment before replying, delighting in Sam's short-lived disbelief. "We sold 600."
Jonathan heard the sound of Sam throwing everything off of his desk, including his new computer. Then, the unmistakable sounds of someone dancing on a desk came over the phone.
"Fuck yeah! We did it! We've broken in! Fuck yeah!"
Jonathan held the phone away from his ear. He glanced out of the window as the car turned onto Elm Street and passed a used auto dealership. Then, he imagined Sam urinating all over the office in crazed celebration.
"We're fucking millionaires, dude! We fucking did it! We have to call everybody! The high school reunion's next month and I didn't want to go but now we can throw all this shit right in their fucking faces! Remember how we always wanted to do that?"
Jonathan thought to himself, "You always wanted to do that. I never minded going, mainly to see how the bullies had grown up."
He closed his phone while Sam was still ranting and raving about something. Was it something about Nicole? He checked his reflection again. He still wasn't there.
Once back in his hotel room, he packed his bag and checked his airline tickets. Northwest flight 534, direct to New York. 3PM. Hotel checkout time was noon. He looked at the room clock, which read 11:49AM.
Perfect. Clockwork. Everything.
He checked out and climbed into a taxi.
"Where to?"
He had planned to say, "SeaTac Airport, please."
He had wanted to say, "SeaTac Airport, please."
Sam, Jessica, and Nicole all poked his shoulder at once. "Tell the man, 'SeaTac Airport, please.'"
"Elm street, please."
"Where on Elm?"
"I don't know the address. I'll tell you when we get close."
Jonathan disembarked at the used car dealership. He went inside and a young, blonde man in a suit stood up from behind a small desk and shook his hand.
"Can I help you, sir? I'm Marcus."
Jonathan smiled at the firm handshake. "Hi Marcus. I'd like a van."
Marcus said, "Then I have what you're looking for. Right this way."
Marcus led Jonathan to a dark blue, 1995 Dodge Ram van. "This one just passed inspection. It only has about 110 on it. The last owner was a contractor who broke both of his legs on a job. He's working at a stationary store, now."
"As what? A paperweight?"
Marcus laughed, perhaps a bit too hard. "Ha ha ha! That's a good one."
"I'll take it."
I-90 east. Windows down. The iPod blasted "Jessica" by The Allman Brothers over the stereo.
Jonathan's eyes moistened. He sobbed twice, then punched his hand out of the window, up towards the overcast skies.
"Woo!" he screamed.
As he drew his arm inside, he noted in the side view mirror that he still couldn't see his reflection. An instant later, "Ramblin' Man" poured out of the speakers. He yelled the lyrics as loudly as he could, banging on the steering wheel with each beat. For the moment, any care about his reflection washed away like sand on a pacific beach. Like wind through the High Cascade Mountains.
"Hey honey," Jonathan said to his home answering machine, "The meeting went well. I'm driving back instead of flying. If there's anything you want me to pick up, let me know—"
Someone in a red Mitsubishi Eclipse cut him off on the road.
Jonathan hit the horn. "Watch it, you mother fucker!" he continued on the phone, "Give Nicole a hug for me, and call if there's anything else."
He paused. "I love you. Bye." He closed the phone.
He took a detour to visit a trucking museum just outside of Idaho. "How many people come to see this place?" he asked the woman behind the front desk.
"You're the third one this week," she said, "An elderly couple came in yesterday."
Jonathan wondered if he'd ever take Jessica to that museum.
He pulled into the Pine Dash Motor Inn in Boise, Idaho that night. The girl behind the front desk asked him, "In town for business?"
"Nope," Jonathan grinned back, "Pleasure."
The girl chuckled. "That's rare. No one comes to Boise for fun."
"Well, I work back in New York but I just wanted to see the country. Any suggestions?"
The girl thought. "Well, if you like national parks, then Lucky Peak State Park isn't too far from here. If you really want to see the country though, stay off the interstate. Everyone thinks that they're going to see America by zipping by at 90, but that's how you miss the best stuff. I think so, anyway."
Jonathan smiled. "That's good advice. What's your name?"
"Leah. I'm going to set you up in room 110. I'm just going to go see if it's ready for you."
She walked away and returned a minute later with a keycard. When Jonathan entered his room, he found an extra welcome mint on his pillow.
When he checked out the next morning, he asked the new front desk attendant, "Is Leah around?"
She replied, "Sorry sir, she does the overnight shift."
"Please make sure that she receives this." Jonathan passed her a sealed envelope that had, "Leah," written upon it. In it was a $100 bill.
With Boise behind him and America's "Ventura Highway" on the stereo, Jonathan welcomed the first sunlight he had seen in days. He thought about Leah, and realized that he would have propositioned her if he hadn't been married. Then, he started thinking about other things that he usually stopped himself from doing.
He thought, "Is it really just laws that protect society from chaos? Is it just the threat of being caught and imprisoned that stops people from stealing and killing? What if there were no police? What then?" He thought about an old political comic he saw about someone saying, "You can take my gun when you pry it out of my cold, dead fingers!" and smiled.
He followed route 20 to 26 and then 191 into Jackson, Wyoming, just south of Yellowstone National Park. He parked outside of the Alpine Junction Bar and sat inside on a stool. He ordered a beer and sat back, enjoying the smoky air and the low murmur of the bar patrons.
He closed his eyes. "If there's a Heaven, I hope that it's just like this," he thought.
"A dingy bar in Jackson?" he asked back, "Are you serious?"
A young man who couldn't have been older than 18 entered the bar and sat a few stools down from Jonathan. The bartender said, "I need to see some ID, Teddy."
Teddy smiled and leaned across the bar, patting the bartender on the back. "How's it going, Rich? Haven't seen you at the games. You'd better be there tomorrow. It's a big one."
"One of my guys left me, so I have to work here and watch the reruns on public access."
"Fuckin' A."
"The usual?"
"You know it."
Jonathan smiled, instantly taking a liking to the obviously underage man to his right. "Put it on my tab," he said.
The bartender said, "Teddy here's the star running back of the Jackson High School Jets. His are always on the house."
Jonathan turned to Teddy. "And how old are you?"
Teddy sniffed. "You a cop?"
"No. Just passing through."
"Wouldn't matter anyway." Teddy turned to his drink.
Jonathan asked, "How are you guys doing this year?"
"We're making state. No doubt." Teddy swigged down most of his beer.
"Where to after that?"
Teddy slammed his beer down on the counter. "Are you my fucking mom? I'm gonna go pro and get the fuck out of this dump. Another one, Rich. Put it on his tab," he stuck a thumb at Jonathan.
Jonathan smiled and finished his drink in silence. He left the bar and climbed back into the van. He reached a nearby turnoff for 189 north and south. North would take him up towards Montana, and he had always wanted to see Montana. South would take him closer to Denver, where he had an old college friend.
"South it is," he thought, and turned. A young girl crossing the street in front of him stopped in her tracks and stared at him through the headlights. Jonathan hit the brake and jumped out of the van.
The girl was holding her white top together, as if it had been torn. He left cheek was freshly bruised. She was shaking.
"Oh my God, are you okay?" Jonathan asked.
The girl's eyes flicked downward. "Y-yeah, I'm fine. I just have to go home."
"What happened? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm just—"
"Can I give you a lift? I'll take you home."
She eyed him warily for a moment, then nodded. "I'm just so tired," she mumbled.
Once back in the van, she directed him to a small, rural neighborhood. He stopped the car outside of a white ranch-style house. He turned to her. "Will you be okay?"
"Yeah. When you're Teddy Grady's girlfriend, you don't have a choice, heh." Her eyes darted around again.
"Football team Teddy?" Jonathan asked.
"Duh. Who else? Heh."
"He did this to you?" he asked, wondering if she'd want to kiss him in exchange for his concern.
"I-I've gotta go. Thanks for the lift."
She jumped out of the van and Jonathan watched as she went into her house. He turned around and drove back to the bar. He stepped into the lot and picked up a wooden plank from a nearby discarded packing crate. He waited by the door.
When Teddy left, three friends accompanied him. Jonathan waited until they parted ways in the parking lot and Teddy walked over to his own car.
Jonathan grabbed the star player of the Jackson Jets from behind and dragged him to a shadowed area by an old fence.
"What the fuck—!" Teddy yelled.
Jonathan swung the plank with full force at Teddy's face. Teddy fell into the fence headfirst and collapsed to the ground facedown. He tried to pick himself up but Jonathan kicked at Teddy's stomach and hit his left shoulder with the plank.
Teddy convulsed and he vomited on himself as he rolled over and held his hands up, desperate to ward off another blow. Jonathan leaned over his adversary.
"If you lay a hand on your girlfriend again, I will break both of your fucking legs!"
Jonathan swung the plank onto Teddy's right thigh. The football player howled in pain.
Jonathan tossed the plank onto Teddy's quivering body and turned around. "Good luck making state, you son of a bitch!"
Jonathan jumped into the van and turned south to Colorado. Again, he punched his fist into the air and screamed triumphantly into the night.
********************************************
Inside the dorm's common room, Jessica placed the last of fifteen steaming pancakes onto a plate.
"I don't know what it is," she said, turning off the stove, "But I'm just so hungry tonight."
"I'll say," said Jonathan, sitting at the common room table, "Where are my pancakes?"
Jessica pursed her lips into a false frown. "Ha ha. You're having most of these. I won't be able to finish them."
"If I must," Jonathan looked around, "Do we have any syrup?"
"Robin has some in the fridge. We can kind of borrow it from her. It's been in there for a little while, anyway."
Jonathan stood up, slowly slid the wooden chair under the table, and sultrily approached Jessica. "Hey, baby," he whispered.
"Hey," she smiled.
He curled his arms around her waist and leaned close to her face. "Would you like to be my pancake tonight?"
Jessica raised her eyebrows and licked her lips. "Mmm. That sounds great. You might need a lot of syrup, if you're going to eat me all up."
Her breath on his lips was nearly too much to bear. He brushed her lips with his own. "Will Robin mind if we use her syrup to get all sticky and . . .roll around?" he kissed her lightly.
"Oh God," Jessica wrapped her arms tightly around Jonathan and hugged him tight. "I love you so much."
********************************************
"Jason doesn't live here anymore," a short, rotund landlady said in Denver, "He moved to Chicago."
Jonathan frowned. "Chicago? Do you have a forwarding address? He's a buddy of mine from college. We went to the University of Michigan together."
After a night in Denver and a night in Omaha, Jonathan rode into Chicago. He phoned Jason, who was working as a low-level investment banker. They met up for lunch at a café on West Roosevelt Road.
"Christ, man," Jason said, hugging his friend, "How the hell have you been?
"I'm fine. It's good to see you."
They sat down. Jason pointed to Jonathan's face. "You growing a beard? Looks good!"
"Heh. Well, it's a long story."
"What the hell are you doing out here, man? Last I heard you moved into a new house with Jessica and Nicole. How's everything going?"
"Everyone's fine. Nicole's in eighth grade and starting high school next year. Jessica's still teaching high school art. I started up a software company with a friend and we're doing all right with it. How are you?"
"That's great! I'm glad it's going well. As for me, I've been better. Work's okay, but I was just skipped over for a promotion and my mortgage rate's going up and I'm either going to have to give up eating lunches or sell the place and move even further away. Gas prices alone are enough to make me barely break even each week."
Jason paused, then smiled. "Sorry, man. Just venting. My girlfriend left me a month ago and both of my folks are in and out of hospitals. My brother's working on a nuclear submarine in California, and that leaves me with just about no one at the moment. I'm sorry. If you need a place to stay tonight then you're most welcome."
Jonathan said, "Thanks, and don't worry about venting. I'm glad I could be here for you. Hey! I know what'll cheer you up." Jonathan stood. "Follow me."
Jason gave his friend a look, then followed him to the bathroom. Half-seriously, he asked, "Uh, is this a gay thing? Because I saw your ass that one time in college, and since then I've never gotten it out of my—"
"Just shut up and get in here."
Jason looked over his shoulder and followed Jonathan into the one-person bathroom. Jonathan stood near the toilet, away from the sink. "Okay," he said, "Now look in the mirror."
Jason gave his friend a look, then gazed at himself in the mirror above the sink. Suddenly, a roll of toilet paper hovered right next to his face.
"What the fuck?" Jason yelled, jumping away, "What's going on?"
Jonathan laughed and dropped the toilet paper roll. "I'm sorry, man. I just wanted to freak you out. I don't reflect in mirrors anymore."
"What? You don't?"
"Nope." Jonathan jumped up and down, waving his arms in front of the empty mirror. "I woke up that way early this week. I feel fine, but I have no idea what the hell it is."
Jason looked in the mirror, then back at Jonathan several times. "Holy shit . . .you're like the invisible man!"
Jonathan said, "Only in mirrors, and I already considered a career in bank robbery. What's weird is that whatever I'm wearing becomes invisible, too."
Jason nodded, "Yeah, it's like some weird electromagnetic thing. How fucking bizarre." He looked at the mirror again and adjusted his hair. Then, he turned back to Jonathan. "Our waiter definitely thinks we're gay by now. Should be go back?"
After lunch, Jonathan passed on Jason's offer of staying overnight, preferring the rarity and bliss of solitude. They parted ways, exchanging promises to visit each other more often. As Jonathan walked down the crowded street, he thought, "My strange condition doesn't seem to bother anyone for long. It's almost as if they just accept it as something easily explained. The EMTs, the policeman, and even Jason . . .it's like they think it's weird, but then they just accept it and move on. I wonder what that means?"
He walked into a post office, wrote out a check for $200,000 to Jason, and mailed it.
Once back in the van, he pulled onto I-80 east. He called Jessica at home.
"Hello?" she answered, her voice strangely deep.
In his sweetest voice, Jonathan said, "Hey honey. It's me."
"Hey."
Something was wrong. "You don't sound so good. Is everything okay?"
"Not really."
Every possibility tore through Jonathan's head. "Is Nicole all right?"
"She's fine. She's at a friend's."
"Oh. What's wrong?" Jonathan felt a heavy weight steadily growing in his stomach.
"I'll tell you when you get home. When will you be here?"
"Um . . .a couple of days. Why don't you tell me now? I don't like surprises."
"I don't want to talk about it over the phone."
Jonathan raised his voice. "Then why bring it up at all? Why do I now have to spend the next two days worrying about what the hell is going on?"
"Don't yell at me, Jon. You practically disappear after a business trip and now you have the nerve to tell me—"
"I didn't disappear! I left you a message! You never called me back!"
"Whatever, Jon. We'll talk when you get back."
"Tell Nicole I—"
Jessica had hung up.
"I haven't really gotten trashed since this whole thing began," Jonathan said to himself, "Tonight, wherever I stop, I should change that."
That night, Jonathan pulled into the Oil City Hotel in Oil City, Pennsylvania. There was a small bar off of the lobby and he sat down, intent on drinking at least enough for a good buzz. After forty minutes of watching boxing on the bar television, a lone woman came downstairs and sat two stools away. She ordered a Long Island Iced Tea.
At first, Jonathan was too busy repeating the same conversation to himself over and over to notice her.
"Jessica probably cheated on you."
"No. She's probably just really hurt that you weren't more in touch with her this week."
"And cheated on you as a result."
"She wouldn't cheat on me."
"Yes she would."
"You're right."
The slightly overweight woman at the bar was staring at nothing in particular, apparently not a fan of boxing. She wore a long black skirt, long-sleeved gray blouse, and an open black, button-down sweater. Her face was pale, and her full head of shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair made her appear far younger than she probably was. "Likely a business traveler," Jonathan thought.
He glanced down at a dark red novelty cocktail napkin. In white letters, it read, "If time flies when you're having fun, then may all your days be short."
"Amen to that," the woman said. Jonathan looked up. She was looking at him. "Hi," she extended her hand, "I'm Sam."
"Sam?" Jonathan started, thinking about his business partner for the first time in days.
"Samantha," she said, and Jonathan shook her hand. "Business trip?" she asked.
"Sort of. Just traveling back to New York."
"I'm heading for Toledo. I'm a clerk for Marguilles Shipping and we just opened a satellite office there. We're based out of Baltimore."
Jonathan thought, "There's a whole 99% of the country that I haven't even seen on this trip. I'll have to do it again sometime. Maybe with a stop in Toledo, if this chance encounter leads to a torrid romance."
"Do you like your job?" Jonathan asked.
"Hate it," Samantha said, downing her drink, "I wanted to open up my own cruise line but a former friend screwed me out of a really great business deal. Now I track and ship commodities to national and international markets. Ooh!" she feigned enthusiasm. "What do you do?"
An hour of casual conversation and three drinks later, Samantha was barely able to support herself on her barstool. Jonathan paid both of their tabs.
"Can I escort you to your room?"
He helped Samantha to room 204 and paused awkwardly with her just outside. She leaned in to him, tilted her head down, and looked up at him with her eyes. "You want to come into my room."
Jonathan said nothing.
She leaned closer. "You want to fuck me."
Jonathan said nothing.
She tilted her mouth to a hair's distance from his lips. "I'm married and I have two kids."
Jonathan said nothing, and in the next moment, she was kissing him.
The next morning, he woke up in her bed. She was still asleep, her mouth barely open, her hair slightly fluttering with each breath.
He left his business card on her night table and left the hotel. Later that day, he finally arrived back home in New York. He glanced in his rearview mirror. He still wasn't there.
When he walked into his house, Jessica came up to him and he hugged her. She barely hugged him back. "What's wrong?" he asked.
They sat down in the living room and Jessica began, "Before you called me that first time, Sam called to tell me all about how much money you made in Seattle. I was so . . .hurt that you didn't tell me right afterwards . . .Sam came over with champagne and Nicole was over at a friend's house and we were drinking and he was talking about how different everything was going to be, and he was so excited and he talked about the Wilton development and, and, I, we, we just . . ."
She trailed off. Jonathan asked, "You just what?"
"Cut the crap, Jonathan! We fucked! We fucked in our bed! We fucked in Nicole's bed! We fucked in the kitchen, we fucked on the dining room table, and we fucked where you're sitting right now!" She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
Jonathan thought about patting her leg, but he didn't. Then, he did. She took his hand and brought it to her lips, kissing it over and over, remembering the boy, the pancakes, and everything that was once wonderful.
"I'm just—oh God, Jonathan, I'm so sorry . . .you know that things haven't been going well between the two of us and I just . . .I'm just so sorry . . .I—"
Jonathan held his hand up. "Honey, it's okay. Sam was right. Things are going to be different. Things already have been different for the two of us for a while. I want you to be happy and—"
"But I don't want Sam! I don't want to marry him! You think I do?"
Jonathan looked away. "No, but I don't think that you want to be with me anymore, either. We'll make it a clean split without any fuss. For us and for Nicole. Easy, one-two-three."
He had imagined the words and the situation in his head scores of times. Still, hearing them outside of his imagination for the first time made them seem as fresh as flogging wounds. He wanted to blurt, "Why can't things go back to they way they used to be? Why can't we just have a great time together? What the hell happened to us?"
Jessica was thinking the same things.
Jonathan stood up and smiled down at Jessica. She stood up and followed him to the door. He turned around. "Well, I'll be back or I'll send for my things. We'll figure it all out."
"Yeah, we will. Oh, Jonathan—"
"What?"
"Well, there's no way to really . . .um, well, the money that you just got from the big sale, I . . .um, well, since we're getting divorced, I think I'm, you know, kind of . . .entitled to . . ."
Jonathan said, "Don't worry, honey." He caressed her face with his hand, "You'll get what's coming to you."
She smiled and hugged him. "Thank you. I want this to be clean and easy, too. You have a place to stay?"
"Yes. Don't worry about me."
That night, Jonathan set up his van as a temporary bedroom. His cell phone rang.
"Hello?"
A man's voice said, "Jonathan? Oh my God . . .I don't—" the man started crying.
"Jason?"
"W-why did you do this for me? I can't accept—you're a fucking angel on Earth! You're . . .I-I love you for doing this. It's the nicest thing that anyone . . ." he started crying again.
"It was nothing. You were always a good friend. Right now though, I need your banking and accounting expertise."
"Anything. Name it."
Someone called on Jonathan's call waiting. It was Sam. He ignored it.
"I need to empty my account completely and set up a quick trust fund for my daughter. I'm going to be living off the grid for a while."
Jonathan looked in the rear view mirror.
A smiling, bearded man looked back.
User Reviews
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-06-05 12:20:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2