Taking the plunge

My hands trembled as I stood against the cold concrete wall and periodically glanced around the corner at her car. The grumbling of my stomach echoed through the parking garage as I fought to control it. Finally, the door opened and closed. I turned and watched the familiar figure move toward her car.

My steps were silent - it surprised me how quiet the sneakers could be, but then I smiled at the name: sneakers - as I approached from behind. I pulled the knife from the inner pocket as I gained on her. She abruptly turned as she reached the car.

The disgust in her gaze was immediately visible as it met my own, but it was momentary as the eyes shot to the shining metal in my hand. Her mouth opened - as if to yell - as I reached her.

The practice had proven itself necessary as I covered her mouth with one hand while plunging the weapon deep into her side. I was surprised at how easy it penetrated her clothing and body. I repeated the motion ten times as the body relaxed and fell against the car. Her eyes, those eyes, were locked on me as she slumped over. I pushed them closed while pushing the body into the trunk.

I stood with knife in hand while surveying the contents of the trunk. I pushed the knife into the plastic bag on the inside of my coat and slammed the trunk. I wiped the car down - just in case of prints - and removed the plastic gloves while quickly walking away. A glance at my watched revealed the whole ordeal had taken less than ten minutes.

I stole one more glance at the security camera and smiled while pushing the exit door open with my foot. I laughed as I descended the stairs, the cameras were useless - hadn't worked in six months. Yes, I had double-checked the previous day.

My heart raced as I reached the bottom of the stairs. I pushed the hat down on my head and pull the collar up while exiting into the darkness of the night. I was lucky as it was raining - further ruining visibility and traceability. I zigzagged an unfamiliar route to an unfamiliar bar, grabbed a beer and watched the local news. I waited two hours before heading to my car.

My exuberance was uncontrollable as I drove home. The experience would prove invaluable when finishing my novel. After all, they always say write what you know. I did regret not using a bat, but the knife was so much more practical and effective.

You're hired

I slowly survey the room as I sit at the table. It could be any room in any office building since they are all the same. The chair squeaks as I push away from the table and spin to face the wall behind me. I stand and walk to the window. I shield my eyes with my hand while scanning the parking lot for my car before figuring out it is parked on the other side. I stand and watch the doorknob turn as a woman enters.

"Can I get you anything?" She drops a stack of papers on the table while grabbing a bottle of water from a nearby table. I wonder how I missed seeing the drinks. My eyes dance over her body with every movement.

"No, thank you." She pushes the hair behind her left ear while taking a seat. I remove my jacket before returning to my chair.

"This shouldn't take too long." She gives me a quick glance while downing part of the water.

"Okay, no rush." This is actually I lie. I want to leave as soon as possible.

"Well, nothing unusual, I'm sure you've been through this before." She continues to talk while shuffling papers, never looking up.

The forms appear in front of me one by one each with a long-winded description that I ignore. I suddenly realize that I can peek down her shirt when she leans to push papers my way - the pink lace of her bra is strangely exciting.

"This is last set is the insurance. I know Mike covered this with you. Do you have any questions?"

"No."

I sign and slide the last paper in her direction. I feel my face go red as she seems to catch my voyeurism. She sits erect and straightens the paperwork.

"Well, welcome to the team." She stands while extending her right hand. I follow protocol and give her a quick shake. I suddenly feel nauseous, the thought of being a part of anything is less than appealing. I fight the urge to scream and run.

Her

The theatre was more crowded than expected. I spotted an empty space along the far wall and moved in that direction. I turned and leaned my back against the wall. My eyes surveyed the crowd while stealing glances at the women's bathroom.

Shock waves jolted my body as the familiar figure appeared in the entrance to my left. At first I thought the mind was deceiving me - yet again, as I had mistaken so many others for her over the past year, but there was no mistake this time. I turned away and rushed to a corner - slid behind a marble statue of a once-famous person.

The memory and the reality were a match - she was radiant from head to toe. I watched as the familiar hair danced across her shoulders as she exchanged pleasantries with those around her. The tall, dark figure holding her hand was a mystery that I didn't try to solve as I stared at her figure. I wondered if she had lost weight, the large coat and scarf made it impossible to figure out, although she never needed to diet.

The meeting of our eyes was another jolt to my system, as though I was under a spell. At that moment, I would have done anything she ordered, but her eyes released me as soon as I had surrendered. I placed my hands over my face, trying to regain my composure. I was lost in thought as the wife tapped me on shoulder.

"Are you okay?" She leaned forward and closely examined my face - awaiting a reply.
"Yeah, just a bit dizzy for some reason, I think I'll go to the restroom." I patted her hand while darting across the room to the familiar men's room sign. Just before entering, I turned to see the wife checking the time on her watch while examining the statue. I stood by the sink and rinsed my face with water.
"Hey, are you okay?" The familiar face greeted my as I exited.
"Oh, yeah, sure, what?" I was suddenly speechless as I tried to track down the wife while answering the question.
"Don't worry; she's waiting in line at the bar. She didn't see me." She patted my shoulder while trying to calm my fears.
"Oh, okay, well, I should get back. Funny running into you. How are you?" I wanted to reach out and grab her, pull her to the nearby coat check room and, well, you know the rest.
"I'm good, were you hiding over there in the corner? I felt your eyes upon me; your stares always did make me feel good." She flipped her hair while her eyes locked on mine.
"Hiding? Me? Why would I do that? Who do you think I am?" The nervous laugh was less than reassuring for either of us.
"I know who you are, and I know why you would do that, so quick being silly." Her confident demeanor was overwhelming. I wanted to run.
"Yeah, that's true, well anyway, you look great." My eyes scanned the familiar body once again - the memory filling in the details that I ached for at the moment.
"Yeah, so you always said. You are looking good too. You clean up nice, is that a new jacket?"
"Really? Thanks, oh this, yes, a Christmas present from, well, you know." I stumbled over the wife's name.
"Yes, I know, well, she has good taste." She reached out and straightened my collar. Instinctively, my arm moved to her, but I stopped it halfway and she smiled.
"Thanks, I guess." My lungs filled with the familiar scent she always wore. I remembered the many late nights driving home in the middle of winter with the windows down, trying to evict the scent from my car. My feet were suddenly set in stone; I did not know what to do.
"Oh, there's John, I better go, you should give me a ring, maybe Monday night, okay?" She tapped my hand while stepping away to meet the tall figure as he strolled from the same men's room.
"You feel better?"
"Uhm, yeah, I think so." I smiled as the wife handed me a ginger ale. She grasped my hand as we discussed the upcoming performance.

Admission

She feels faint while approaching the podium. Her hands grip the sides as she surveys the audience. The eyes wander to the foreheads of the onlookers - as the instructor suggested. Her head drops and she covers her mouth as a dry cough erupts - it echoes through the large room.

"Good evening." The voice is soft, too soft, as she addresses the audience. Bill, her sponsor, rushes to her side and adjusts the microphone. A few words of encourage are whispered in her ear before he departs.

"Good evening." She repeats the opening line while tapping the electronic device. The audience cringes with each tap and she mumbles an apology.

"My name is Margaret, or Margie as my friends call me." The words are hard to find, but a warm sensation covers her as the audience responds in unison "Hello Margie."

"I'm sorry, can I get some water." She motions to a nearby table and a cup is suddenly placed in her hand. The audience remains silent as the water quickly disappears. The sound of the cup hitting the table is alarmingly loud.

"Well, uh, I guess you know why I am here, why we all are here." A panic erupts in the center of her body and quickly spreads, she has lost her nerve. Her eyes meet a close friend at a nearby table and her nerve returns.

"That's right, I'm an alcoholic." The words are reassuring. She has said it many times to herself but never out loud to another person - so many people. The smiles of the audience fill her up as she continues her story.

"It all started when I was ...."

Notice

He had left home this morning happy as ever. Lunch with co-workers was inconsequential. He ravaged the memories from previous days with no discoveries. He had never left a job involuntarily, so the ego was badly bruised.

"Today will be your last day, and I shall escort you from the building." George said in a matter of fact tone.

An uneasy silence formed in the small office. Each waited for the other to speak.

"Do you have any questions?" George finally spoke with a quick glance at his watch.

"No." The response was less than poetic.

"This is never easy." George apologetically confessed.

Mike wondered who he was apologizing too, and how many times had he done this? The questions queued in his brain, but in the end nothing was said.

George remained by his side as he returned to his desk, collected his belongings (box provided), removed personal items from his computer, and exchanged farewells and glances with co-workers. Oddly, he had never felt any attachment with anyone in the office but he would miss them. Yes, familiarity breeds comfort.

His heart sank as the lobby door closed behind him. He stood on the curb shooting a final glance at George. A rude gesture or comment was briefly contemplated, but sanity reigned. They both knew it was not George's fault.

Nothing punctures a person’s pride as much a job loss. Personal identity and self-worth are derived from work. An unemployed man is especially disheartening.

He loosened and removed the tie, stuffing it in the box with one motion. Small talk was exchanged with the parking lot attendant as the car sat nearby. He said nothing when the attendant told him to have a nice weekend and the familiar "see you next week." He did want to see the old guy next week, he had always wondered if sitting in a parking structure while breathing car fumes shortened a man's life. On the other hand, the parking attendant had a job and title while he had nothing. The box was landing in the trunk with a loud thud. He slammed the trunk lid and rested on the bumper. Luckily it was all his – no more car payments.

Thoughts raced as he lowered his bulky, six-foot frame behind the wheel. He loved smaller cars, so the discomfort was okay. The thought of telling his wife filled him with dread. She was three months pregnant and planning an early maternity leave, so he would be (or would have) the sole breadwinner. His shoulders did not seem as broad as the day the decision was made.

He wondered what Ward from “Leave It To Beaver” would do. He smiled while thinking of a WWWD bumper sticker. Television husbands always had the answers. He wanted a script, but real world problems could not be solved within thirty minutes. He hated surprises.

The next wave to hit was panic; he had to get a job and now. The current job market was a mystery. It had been eight years since the last job search or interview. He had always proclaimed he had a career not a job, but the last hour had proved that wrong. The anxiety quickly rose. The shortness of breath was alarming. He pulled into the emergency lane along the highway and rested his head on the steering wheel.

It dawned on him that the last few minutes were a blur - he had no recollection of ever leaving the parking garage or getting on the freeway. It is strange how you can drive a familiar route in a daze, but it would be the last time along a familiar path. The freeway traffic race by as he glanced out the window. Every car seemed to have a purpose. They mocked him as he was suddenly an outcast.

Suddenly, his Rolodex entered his mind. He flung the door open and raced to the back of the car. Horns sounded as the thick traffic whizzed by. He rescued the Rolodex from the trunk and leaned against the trunk while flipping through the coffee stained cards. Everyone made fun of the old fashion system, but he fondly remembered receiving it from his niece upon college graduation. She was now nearing graduation herself. He didn’t think a Rolodex was a suitable gift for today’s graduate, a handheld gadget would be more appropriate.

The familiar cell phone ring interrupted the stroll down memory lane. He turned to retrieve from the front seat. The screeching of tires flung him in another direction just in time to see the red SUV barreling in his direction. His mouth and Rolodex dropped simultaneously with the oncoming car drowning out the cell phone.

Melissa’s body ached; she wondered why it was called morning sickness. She had heard pregnancy horror stories, but now she had her own. There was no answer, so she hung up. Odd, his boss said he had left early. She was anxious to relay the ultrasound results. He had always wanted a little girl – and twins!

Car lights shone brightly on the wall of the den, but they quickly faded. Her hopes followed each ray of light. She rested on the couch and habit made her reach for the remote. A quick scan of the channels returned her to the local news. The remote fell from her hand as she recognized the crumpled pile of metal on the screen.