Janey Baby (revised)

Janey Baby

Sometimes I wish I were somewhere else.  I wonder what life would be like if I lived in San Francisco or something. 

“Janet!”

Maybe If I lived in San Francisco life wouldn’t be so dumb.

“Janet I’m talking to you.”

I hate they think I can’t do anything on my own; I’m 15 years old god dammit.

“Janet Mosley you answer me immediately or you can leave this classroom!”

Glancing up I see a scowling Ms. Robinson.

“Huh?” looking at her puzzled.

“Are you texting?“ She says as she scans my desk.

“Read stanza four.” She says pointing at my open book.

I had no clue what she was even talking about.  I looked down at my book and it was on stanza two.  I quickly started paging through the book to find the spot, but the bell rang.

“Ok everyone finish the rest of the poem, there will be a quiz on Monday.”

Shutting my book, I gather my things. Getting up I try not to make eye contact with Ms. Robinson.

“Ms. Mosley, can I see you at my desk please.” She says as if she were just waiting for the right moment.

I always knew what that meant.  She’s going to tell me to use my time more wisely, pay more attention, blah blah blah.  The truth is I have absolutely no interest in dumb poems. I walk over to her desk with my head down with no intentions of giving her any eye contact.

            “Yes?” I mutter.

“Is everything ok with you, your homework and test scores have all been very good this quarter, but your in -class participation is non-existent.  Is anything distracting you?”

“No Ms. Robinson, I’m fine, it won’t happen again.” turning around and heading out of the classroom, not giving her a chance to interrogate me further. 

I stepped through the doorway and I felt my pocket vibrating.  I looked down and saw a new message from my sister Abby.

Lil Sis: Where are you?

Lil Sis: Come home quick please!

I pressed the lock button and put my phone back into my pocket. Walking down the hall toward my locker I see Sarah Meyer.  She is standing there with her back propped up against her locker.  She always looks so happy. Probably because all of the older guys were raving about he curves. She’s my age, but her body is a lot more, mature.

“Sup Janet, I heard the bitch Ms. Robinson was giving it to ya for texting in class, her class is garbage.” She says looking up from her phone for reassurance.

I never know what to say to her, we weren’t friends, we never sat by each other in any classes, and her group of friends definitely wasn’t my group of friends.  She wasn’t the popular cheerleader type. She was more like the screw the government, I love indie bands ad moccasins type.   I always try and think of cool responses to stuff she says, which really means just add a curse word to it. 

“Yeah she’s a bitch, I wasn’t even texting.” I say slamming my locker for dramatic affect.

Sara looks at me with a confirming look, as if she feels what I’m saying.  There was an awkward break in conversation between us. With no plans of breaking the awkward silence, I glance down at my phone to cause a diversion and head down the hall. I can feel her looking at me.  I hear her close her locker.

“See ya.”  She says as she closes her locker.

I turn around, smile and nod.

           

I always look forward to the bus ride home.  I listen to the same playlist everyday, “School Mix.” I wonder what the boys are like in San Francisco. I bet they all have football player bodies and stylish haircuts.  I would spend everyday just lying out on the beach, wait, they have beaches right? Whatever.  No worries.

“Next stop, 12^th and Mitchell.”

I wonder if hipster girls like Sara Meyer are in San Francisco.  I bet they walk around texting and cursing at everyone, which is cool I guess.

“12^th and Mitchell.” Shouts the bus driver.

 I head to the back of the bus and exit the back door.  I pull out my phone and begin to text my sister.

My iPhone: I just got your message.

My iPhone: I’ll be home in sec.

            Lil Sis: L

Lil Sis: Please hurry, it’s so loud.

My iPhone: K

Right before my house is Mrs. Elizabeth’s house.  She has the most beautiful garden and greenest grass on the block. You can smell the fertilizer from a block away. She wasn’t as beautiful as her garden though. She was a nosey old woman. Dad would always tell us to be respectful and speak when we saw her. I can always see her staring into our house when she waters her flowers on the side of the house, its weird.  I walk up the porch steps and grab the spare key from under the matt.  I unlock the top lock and turn the doorknob.  Stepping inside, I see my sister sitting outside her door facing the back of the house. Shouting can be heard from the back bedroom, which is my mom’s room.  I shut the door, which alerts my sister.  She gets up and runs over to me.

“I’m so glad you’re home, I’m so scared.” She says as she clinches my legs.

What’s going on with mom and Jed?”  I say rubbing her hair, trying to console her. Jed was my mom’s boyfriend.  They were apparently high school sweethearts.  After dad left a year ago, Jed started helping out around the house, doing “Mans Work,“ as he called it.  He just started spending the night a couple of months ago.  Lately I have been seeing more and more of his stuff, as if he’s slowly moving in.

“I don’t know really, Jed just came in and slammed the door.”

“Was he drinking?” I ask kneeling down wiping her tears away.

“I heard mommy screaming and a loud boom, is mommy ok?” She asks looking at me with a face full of tears.

“Don’t worry mommy’s fine.” I say, not knowing what to think of this situation.

I set my bag down on the couch and walk back to my sister. Pick her up I walk back to the couch. While holding her I keep thinking she is the heaviest nine year old in the world.  I set her down next to my backpack and turn on the TV.  I stare at how innocent she is for a while, and then I kiss her on the forehead.  I grab my bag from the couch and walk to my room, which is right next to my sister’s room, and across from my moms.  The yelling has now calmed to cursing and sobbing.  I shut the door and lay on my bed. Staring out the window, I think about the beautiful scenery that San Francisco could garner.  I wonder what the winter is like; I hope it doesn’t snow like it does here.  I wonder if I can have a garden like Mrs. Elizabeth’s, I’m not going to creep on people and stare in their window though. 

“Janey come on and do these dishes so I can make Jed some supper.”

I wonder what the music is like there.  I can’t wait to leave this place.  Who cares about a stupid arch? I’d rather have sand and beautiful bridges instead of a stupid arch, yuck!

“Janey did you hear me, get in here now!” I hear my mother yell from the kitchen.  I get up out of the bed and run to the kitchen.

“Yes mama?”

“Jed had a bad day today so I’m going to cook him a good meal.” She says still sniffling from her earlier tears.

“Do you want to help me?” she says looking at me with an optimistic smirk.

“I’m good.” I say dismissively.

“You would always help me cook before.” She says putting her arm on my shoulder.

“Yeah but that was for daddy, not the Jed character.” I say dipping my shoulder so her arm slides off.

I walk over to the sink and start running the hot water.  I reach under the sink and grab the dishwashing detergent.  I love watching the soap mix with the water, it reminds me of San Francisco.

“So Janey how is school going?” My mother says, obviously yearning for some sort of conversation.

“You make friends with that girl yet, what’s her name Suzzie, Steph … ”

“Her name’s Sara mom, and I don’t really feel like talking about it.” I say cutting her off.

“I heard you and Jed fighting when I got home, trouble in paradise?” I say trying to change the topic. I hear the pan slam on the stove.

“Janey I don’t like how disrespectful you are to Jed.  He is someone I care about and he’s going to start being around a lot more, so you’re just going to have to get used to it.” She says yelling out of frustration.

“Oh you mean more than he is now, his stupid clothes and tools are all over the place.” I say slamming dishes to show my annoyance.

“He’s not my father so I’m not going to act like it.” I place the last dish into the drying rack, and rinse out the sink.  I dry my hands on the towel hanging on sink cabinet door. The popping of hot grease can be heard from behind me.  I turn around and start walking to my bedroom.  I look up and see Jed approaching me.

“What’s up Diva?” he says with a mocking laugh. 

I look up at him with a hate-filled face.

“That’s why he don’t want you?”  He says followed by an arrogant laugh.

I walk back into my bedroom and slam the door. A genuine hate for Jed overtakes me.  What does he know? My dad does want me and when he gets ready he’ll send for us, I know he will.

            It was time for dinner.  My sister and I always set the table before my mom brings the food out.  Jed is already sitting at the table with a half empty beer and a bag of peanuts.  I walk over to his spot at the table and start to set it.

“You got a daydreaming disease or something?” he says taking a swig of his cheap beer.

 “Jed I don’t think we need to discuss Janey right now, can we just have a nice meal?” Says my mom as she walks in to the room with a plate of pork chops.

Looking at my mom as she’s waits for Jed’s response, she never once looks him in the eyes.

“I didn’t ask you Denise, I’m talking to the Diva.” Says Jed holding the beer can and pointing with the same hand.

“So what’s wrong with you?” He continues.

“Jed that’s enough!” says my mother. 

You can hear the trembling in my mom’s voice.  I ignore the questions Jed is asking me and continue to set the table.

“This is the typical Jed dinner manner.” I say under my breath.

 My mother walks back into the kitchen and grabs the potatoes, then the rolls.  My sister and I both sit down and start to fill our plates with food.  My mom serves Jed before she makes her own plate.  Jed takes a big swig of his beer and slams it down on the table.  He looks up at me with this dazed look, as if he had just drank poison.

“I’m just saying, she walks around all day dreaming some god damn San Francisco bullshit.”

I stop eating and start to clinch my fork.

            “I got news for you little lady, daddy is gone bye bye, and he don’t want you.” He says taking another swig of his beer.

“Don’t talk about my father!” I yell back at him.

“Hell, he don’t want your mother either, or that other little rat.” He says signaling to Annie.

“Shut up, at least he’s no deadbeat bum like you!” I say scooting my chair back in anger.

Jed looks at me with a stern face as if my words have pierced through all of his boozing and hit a soft spot.

“Deadbeat bum?” He says staring and the almost empty beer can.

“You heard me you loser.” I say yell, trying to spark a reaction.

“Your daddy’s the bum, that’s why he ran out on y’all, but I guess I see why, I wouldn’t want a sassy little retard as my daughter either.” He says with a sneering grimace.

Staring at Jed I can start to feel my stomach hurt, and my eyes starting to water. I look over at my mother and she is sitting there with her head down, in tears.  Tears start to fall down my face. Standing up, I run to my room and slam the door. Jumping onto my bed I grab my pillow and begin to cry in it.  I hear a small knock at the door, and then it opening.

“You ok Janey?” Says a soft little voice.

I turnaround and see Abby peeking her head into my door.

“I’m ok.” I say wiping my face trying to hide the tears.

She walks in the room and closes the door behind her.  She jumps into my bed and sits on my back.

“I miss daddy,” she says.

“I do to.” I say curling her long brown hair with my finger.

“We’re never going to see him again are we?” She says quizzingly.

I look in her eyes speechless, not knowing why dad left, and that I to wonder the same thing.

“Jed told me that daddy left us because he didn’t like having kids anymore, and since daddy’s gone he’s in charge.” She continued.

I get up flipping her off my back and to the floor. 

“Don’t you listen to a word that asshole Jed says, you understand!”  I say grabbing both of her arms as if I’m going to shake her.

“Jesus Christ I’m sorry, let me go.” She screams trying to free herself.

Realizing that my anger for Jed was causing this overreaction I let her go. Abby get’s up and walks out the door.  She looks back at me one more time before she closes the door. 

            “So Jed’s right, daddy’s not coming back.” She says as she closes the door.

The truth was I couldn’t tell her why daddy left.  I remember waking up that morning and seeing him at the kitchen table.  I saw his face from a far, he looked sad, but when I walked into the room his face lit up.  He would always call me “Janey-baby.”

 “How are you this morning Janey-baby?” he said as he set his coffee down. I remember it like it was yesterday. He would always surprise me with ice cream after school, knowing that no matter how old I got it would always put a smile on my face.  I left for school that morning and when I got home he wasn’t there.  He never came home.  My sister and I stared out the window that whole week hoping; praying that one of the passing by cars would be daddy’s pulling into the driveway.  My mother sat us down after a few days, telling us things would be changing.  She said that daddy wasn’t going to be around anymore, that they tried to make it work but they just couldn’t anymore. She said that we had to learn to be strong independent women from now on.

            I wake up to my alarm sounding off. I look over at the clock and it reads 07:50 AM. I hear commotion in the kitchen so I walk out of my room and into the kitchen.  My sister is at the table eating a bowl of cereal.  Mom is at the stove trying to cook eggs and getting ready for work at the same time.  I sit down and start to pour myself a bowl of cereal.

“Good morning Janey.” Says my mother.

“Morning.” I say in a cynical tone, letting her know that I was still angry about last night.

“You should be proud of your sister, she’s mastered the skill of texting and eating.” Says my mom pointing at Abby as she stuffs her face with cereal in one and hand and texts with the other.

My sister and I both look at each other with sarcastic looks, knowing that it was a bad attempt by mom at being funny.

“Janey honey I would like to talk to you when you get home from school today.  I think its time we have a heart to heart.”

“I guess.” I say still attempting to brush her off.

I had no clue what my mom wanted to talk to me about.  I’m sure it was just some more dumb rules about Jed. Mom grabs the pan from the stove and pours the eggs onto our plates.  Jed doesn’t work so he is never awake this early.  He usually wakes up to take my mom to the office so he can use the car for “Job searching.”  My mom pours a cup of coffee and walks into the back bedroom.  I look over at my sister whose head is buried in her lap.

“Who are you texting?” She looks up at me and puts her head back down.

“Hey I’m talking to you little girl.” I reach over and grab her phone.

“Give it back, I’m not talking to you until you apologize!” She yells.

“Ok you big baby I’m sorry, so is it a boy?” handing her the phone back.

The sound of a glass breaking and a loud cry emphatically booms out of the back room.  My sister and I get up from the kitchen table and run into the hallway.  I put my ear to the door and listen.

“I don’t care about those little shits, they’re not my kids god dammit.”

“Jed they are my children and I need you to respect that if you’re going to stay here.” Cries my mother.

“To hell with those kids, especially Janey, you let that deadbeat dad of hers fill her head with nonsense, she walks around like she owns the place.”

 “God damn you Jed don’t you talk about my daughters like that.” Says my mother, followed by the sound of slapping and grunts. I look over at my sister.

“Go in your room and shut the door.” I say looking over at my concerned sister.

Turning around I lead her to her room, looking at her, she’s visibly shaken.

            “Do not open it until I tell you to, got it?”

            “Ok.” She says nodding her head in acknowledgement.

Turning around I head for my mothers door.

“Jed I hate you, leave her alone!” I yell, banging on the door.

I hear Jed push my mother and approach the door.  I step back as I hear him turning the doorknob.

“Get the hell out of here you stupid little retard.” He yells emphatically.

I ball my hand up into a fist and start at Jed.  He grabs my arms but I still try and scratch his face with my free hands.  I hear my mother yelling in the back, but I can’t make out what she’s saying.

“Get off me you stupid little whore.” He says tightening his grip.

Jed pulls my arms away from his face and pushes me into the living room.  My mom comes in the room behind him and jumps on his back.  I see my sister peeking out of the door, I signal for her to go back into the room.  Jed tosses my mother onto the couch and puts his hands around her neck.

“How does that feel, you like that?” He says, spit flying from his mouth.

I get up and run over to the kitchen.  I grab the phone and run behind the table.  I pick up the phone and start to dial 9-1-1.  Jed snatches the phone from me.  He looks at me, blood running down his check, and pulls the chord out of the phone.  I try and get up to run past him but he pushes me into the table cutting my arm.  I can see me mother lying on the couch looking battered and out of breath.  Jed walks up and stands over me.  He grabs the back of my shirt and starts pulling me to my feet.  I scream as loud as I can but he seems un-phased.  He picks me up to my feet.

“You and your god damn mother are crazy, how dare you raise your hand to me.” He says seemingly fatigued.

He reaches his hand back and swings. Flashes of white accompanied with a sharp pain in my cheek ensue.  I put my hand on my face and almost immediately start to cry.

“Oh now your crying, aww poor baby.” Jed says mockingly.

My face burns. I look up at Jed and attempt to stand. Sharp pains shoots through my body and I fall back down.  I think to myself what it would be like to be in San Francisco right now.

I hear my mother’s voice.

“Janey honey can you here me?”

I hear it once more.

 “Oh my god she’s not responding, Janey Honey can you hear me?”

I pull my hand up and cover my eye.  Its feels like a light is shining in it.  I look up and there is my mother and four or five fire firefighters.  The firefighter turns off the light and grabs my hand.

“Janey are you ok?” He says.

I nod in acknowledgment.

“Can you feel you’re arms and legs ok?”  he says gently massaging my knee.

“I think so.” I utter in anguish.

“Can you stand?” He says attempting to lift me.

I look up at him and nod.  He helps me to my feet.  My mom runs over and hugs me immediately.  I can feel her tears soaking into my shirt.

“Ms. Mosley can we get you and your daughter to come this way.” I hear from a distance.

“We’re going to take you all down to the hospital and get you all stitched up.” Says the firefighter who helped me up. I look around and people have gathered in the street amidst all of the sirens.  I look around for Abby and see her climb into the front of the fire truck. I see my mother mouthing the words “Thank you,” to Mrs. Elizabeth. Her snooping around finally paid off. I look up at my mother, who is staring into my eyes. 

“What happen momma?”

“Mrs. Elizabeth’s snooping was a blessing in disguise.” She was out watering her tulips when she saw Jed choking me through the window.  She called the cops right away.”

“So what happened to Jed?”

“He’s gone honey and I promise he will never hurt us again.” She says pushing my hair behind my ear. She reaches over and hugs me.  

“Its time for us to be strong independent women.”

I Quit

My father was a hard workingman. He worked everyday until the day he died, just to maintain. I remember when I was young; he would sit my brother and I down at the kitchen table and help us with our homework. The man was incredible, but he died a bum, old and in debt. He would always say, “Be strong men, and remember, what takes you five minutes to get into will take you ten years to get out of.” 

That was a long time ago, and life is different now. Pops checked out a long time ago, and two months later, so did my mother. My brother, well I haven’t seen or spoken to him in over ten years. My life is meaningless.

“Sir would you like another?”

Looking up I see this fragile, pale skinned waitress, standing there with a curious look on her face, biting her lip.

“Please,” I say nonchalantly, with all my attention diverted to the pill bottle in front of me. Placing two capsules in my hand, one by one, into my mouth.

“So you work across the street huh?” She says as she sloppily pours the coffee.

“Something like that.” I grab the coffee from the corner of the table, and take a drink to cleanse my mouth of the after-pill taste.

“Thank you that’ll be …”

“I would love to work over there. Its so beautiful and fancy looking, oh and that guy from the newspaper, what’s his name?” she says as she snaps her fingers, staring into the ceiling as if the answer were written on the wall.

“Michael Adams is his name.”

“Yes that’s it,” screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Boy I’d really like to get to know him, his eyes are so dreamy.” She says, staring off into the ceiling again.

“Well thank you very much, you have been of great service, I’m sure you have other tables attend to.” She completely ignores my attempts to rid her from the table and continues to ramble on.

“I feel bad for him now though, all that negative press he’s getting about cutting jobs, shit.” She glances at me for a split second and walks over to the next table.

The coffee was terrible; all that small talk and she forgot to add the cream. One more sip to get the bad taste of out my mouth, and I set the cup down on the table.

My father drank coffee, but it always tasted funny. On the few days off he had, he would get my brother and I up early to prepare us for school. Whenever he would leave the room, for whatever reason, my brother and I would take turns drinking out of his coffee cup, impersonating how we thought grownups acted in important situations. The coffee would always burn our chest so we would immediately have to drink the milk from our cereal bowls. It wasn’t until high school that I figured out Whiskey was what made my dads coffee taste weird.

           

Glancing down at my phone, the time reads 8:45 AM, fifteen minutes until my shift. I pull my jacket from under me and check the pockets for my last pack of cigarettes. I’m going to quit today; my body is polluted beyond fixing. I’ve been smoking since I was 24 years old; it’s amazing how quick 25 years changes everything.

The bill reads three dollars so I pull out a five-dollar bill and place it on the table. The menthol from the cigarette taste refreshing as I bring the cigarette to my lips and light it.

Central Ave is a sight to see in the morning, constant commotion, everyone rushing to get to work. Life is too short to constantly be in a hurry. I walk over to the stoplight and press the button to cross. The cigarette is no longer enjoyable as I bring it back in forth from my lips down to my side. I toss the cigarette as I approach the grand site of Gateway Bank. Through the alley is the employee entrance, an entrance I have used for fifteen years. I step through the old paint chipped doors, glancing to my left, I see the security officer, Mike Hall.

“Good morning Ralph,” he says as he steps out of the security booth.

“Morning, yes, but nothing good about it, “ I say, handing him my coat to check.

“Yeah I here ya, just try and look on the bright side of things. If you need any help later just dial our extension.” Mike hands me back my jacket and extends his hand.

“Take care of yourself my friend.” A head nod seemed like the only suitable response, so I obliged and shook his hand.

The time clock read 8:54 AM; I log my employee number into the keypad, ERROR, SEE HR. As I stare at the clock, I feel nothing, disconnected from reality.

My father worked in a packinghouse. Never promoted, never given any recognition. He was just a statistic, a drone, never becoming more than a measly employee number. I turn around and head toward the elevators.

The sixth floor is where I have worked since entering this building, “The Creative Zone.” Well that’s what all of the executives call it; I call it the marketing department. Walking down the row of cubicles, I can feel the glaring eyes of my co-workers, piercing my skin. I can hear every one of my footsteps hit the ground. A cloud of silence has overcome the room.  Ignoring the obvious disturbance my prescnese has caused, I keep my head focused straight ahead. I reach my cubical, and place my coat around the back of the chair. The stares have died down, but I can still feel one.

“Hey Ralphie, how are you holding up?”

I hate when she calls me that. Trying to conjure up the best fake smile I could, I swivel the chair around and greet her.

“Good morning Rebecca, what brings you to my neck of the woods?” I say ironically, Rebecca’s cubical is right next to mine.

“It’s a beautiful morning, I just wanted to check in on you and see how you are doing, you know, like with everything and stuff?”  She says as she twiddles the zipper of her awful blazer. I can see her demeanor start to change as she speaks to me. She looks nervous, and her eyes are starting to water, not as if she were going to cry.

“I’m fine,” I say grabbing her hand.

She looks at me with a false sense of relief. She gathers her self and walks away.

Swiveling back around in the chair, I begin to login to my computer, ACCES DENIED, SEE ADMINSTARTOR. Slouching back in the chair with my hands on my head, I stare into the ceiling, in hopes that the waitress from earlier was on to something. Maybe answers are written on the ceiling. I can hear the squeaky, un-oiled wheels of the mail cart nearing my cubical.

“Here’s your mail Becs.” I hear from a short distance.

The mail carts wheels squeak past my cubical without a break in cadence, what the hell?

“Excuse me, do you have any mail for Ralph Michaels?” I say biting my lip, trying not to show my annoyance.

“Sorry Mr. Michaels, your mailbox was removed earlier this week.”

“Thanks, “ waving my hand in a dismissive way.

The stares from Rebecca are felt once more, my pocket is vibrating.

“Rebecca I’m going out for a smoke.”

“Uh-oh-oh ok,” She stutters.

There’s a balcony on the 12^th floor where all of the smokers frequent throughout the day, payroll, tellers and executives all in one area. As I glance upon the city, I pull out a cigarette, put it to my mouth, and light it. Inhaling and exhaling slowly is the key to true appreciation for a cigarette.  To my left are two bank tellers from the first floor, Angela and David. I don’t know them from any other employees in the building, but we have shared conversation over a cigarette or two. I nod and raise my cigarette in acknowledgment to there presence.

“That a boy, don’t let it beat you.” Says David.

“Right.” I reply turning around to admire the morning sky.

My pocket vibrates again. I dig into my pocket and pull out my phone, it reads:

Missed call 212-947-6309,

1 New Voicemail.

I press the voicemail icon on the telephone screen and hold it up to my ear.

One new voicemail from phone number 2-1-2-9-4-7-6-3-0-9, today at nine fifty-five AM:

“Good morning Ralph this is Dr. Mitchell over at Sacred Heart hospital. We discussed last week some treatment options for your condition; it looks like we’re having a little difficulty getting in contact with your insurance company. It’s very important we get that squared away so we can start treatment sessions immediately. I thought I …

Message deleted.

You have no more new messages, for main menu press one, to hang up press end.

Taking a strong drag of the cigarette, I place my phone back into my pocket, and then exhale. David and Angela are headed towards me. David continues onto the elevator, but Angela stops.

“So we’re all sorry to hear about what happened, its pure bullshit, “ she says squinting her eyes with anger.

“Everything’s fine, “ I say as I flick the cigarette over the edge. She looks at me with curious eyes, as to say what are you talking about. I look at her and smile.

“Everything’s fine, I’m quitting cigarettes today so it’s a glorious day.”

As I step back onto the 6^th floor I see Rebecca talking to the mail guy. I take the long way around the cubicles so I don’t alarm them, or draw any attention from the other people in my section. Approaching them, I can hear bits and pieces of their conversation.

“He’s so skinny now, and he’s lost all of his color, I just don’t know what to say to him,” she says, noticeably shaken.

 “He has no one wife, no kids?” Asks the mail boy.

“I don’t think so, I haven’t seen any other pictures in his cubicle, other than the one he keeps of his father.”

 “Excuse me, “ I say, turning sideways trying not to brush up against the mail cart.

“Sorry Mr. Michaels, let me get this out of your way,” he says, picking the cart up and moving out of the isle.

“Its almost noon, aren’t you done with the mail yet”, I ask, this time not trying to mask my annoyance.

“Uh I actually came back up here for you sir, I was told to bring you these,” he says as he points to the mail cart. I turn around and glance to see what the mail boy is referencing to, two boxes with lids sitting at the bottom of his cart.

“If you need any help, I was told to tell you to dial security extension 2-4 …

“I know what the extension it is, “ I say cutting him off before he could finish.

“What’s your name?”

“Tim, Mr. Michaels, I’ve been bringing you your mail for the last six months.”

Looking at him, none of his features seem recognizable to me.

“Well Tim, I don’t need any help, thank you, leave the boxes next to my desk upon your exit.”

“I just want to say so …”

“Thank you Tim, that will be all.” I swivel back around in my chair and stare at the locked computer screen.

“I’ll talk to you later Tim, I’ll be on messenger later, “ says Rebecca.

            I grab one of the boxes left by Tim. Pulling the lid off I place it on top of my desk. I glance around my cubicle for something of any meaning, something to take with me. The picture of my father catches my eye. I reach for the picture in search of some sort of guidance. I remember my father in his later years, the pain and agony. My brother and I had to be the rock for my mother. The cancer killed him quick. There was no special treatment to prolong his life, no health insurance to foot the bill, nothing but my brother and me. After he died my mother was so grief stricken and overwhelmed with debt she just couldn’t take it anymore, she died on a Tuesday morning. My brother and I were split up between my mother’s siblings, because my dad’s side of the family was a bunch of drunks. I was alone then as I am now. I toss the picture in the box.

            “Well I’m done packing,” I say swiveling around speaking to Rebecca’s back.

Rebecca turns around with a sour look on her face, but says nothing. Swiveling back around to my desk I again glance for something of any meaning, coming across a two month old newspaper.

            “Hmph, well look at this.” I shake the paper to straighten it out and turn to page 7. The caption reads:

(Pictured Above) VP of Operations at Gateway Bank, Michael Adams

Mr. Adams had been under recent fire for the handling of Gateway banks recent financial problems. Gateway bank, which was given a bailout by the US government last

November, has failed to start repayment of the bailout. Adams, 44, has signed off on a budget that will cut over 200 jobs at Gateway Bank. “We will be cutting lower level positions and under performing employees at the three downtown branches,” said Adams in a company wide email on Thursday. Adams was unavailable for comment.

“What a chump.” I crumble up the newspaper and toss it in the trash.

“Rebecca do you have a sheet of paper?”

“Someone took the paper out of my printer,” slamming the printer tray in.

“Are you ok Ralphie?” She says as she hands me the paper.

“That’s not my god damn name!” I snatch the paper from her and aggressively swivel my chair around, so aggressive that I do a 360.

“I meant to do that.” Starring at Rebecca’s surprised face.

“My apologies Ralph,” she says as she turns back around to her desk. I hear her excessively tapping her keyboard as if she were typing a damn novel. I’m sure she’s informing Tim of what just happened over messenger. I fold the piece of paper in half, like a birthday card and place it flat on the desk. I write two words on it and set up like a nametag. Leaning back in the chair I place my hands on my head and read it aloud, “Thank You.”

I grab the box with my fathers picture and place it in my lap. I pick up the phone and dial 2-4-7-5.

“Security.”

“Yes this is Ralph, I have all my things packed, I’m ready to leave.”

“Ok buddy I’ll be right up.”

I hang up the phone, alerting Rebecca. She tries to stare out of the corner of her eyes without turning her head.

           

“Thank you Rebecca of making work, pleasant.” I kiss her on the check and head toward the elevators. Stares and silence have once again filled the room. I wait for the elevator with my back facing them all with no intentions of locking eyes and sparking emotional reactions. The elevator opens and Mike stands before me.

            “Are we ready?” he says with a half smile.

            “I’ve never been more ready Mike,” I respond staring at him awkwardly.

After a brief pause, I step into the elevator and watch Mike press the button for the ground floor.

            “We all wanted you to have this Ralph,” he says as he hands me an envelope. The envelope is blue, with the words “Beat it” written on the cover.

            “Thank you Mike, and thank you for how kind you have been to me over the years.” I say extending my hand.

            The elevator bell sounds indicating we have reached our intended destination. Mike puts his hand out, signaling I go first. Nodding my head I step through the elevator and into the security office. Another security officer steps through the doors and I hand him my box to search through. He checks the contents and gives Mike the thumbs up. Mike walks up behind me.

            “Rookies,” he says as he places his hand on my shoulder.

Trying not to be rude I conjure up a fake smile.

            “Well take care my friend, don’t worry, keep your faith and things will be fine.”

            “Thank you Mike, don’t let this place drain all of the life out of ya,” shaking his hand once more.

           

I step through the paint chipped doors and through the alley. As I walk down the alley I open the envelope given to me by Mike. The card reads, “Get Well Soon.” Opening the card reveals a jingle. It reads:

From all of us here at Gateway Bank, we would like to thank you for your service.

  

The card is littered with signatures of my co-workers, all of them with some sort of sentimental message. Rebecca’s signature stands out.

I know you can beat this Ralphie, you’re stronger than cancer, I love you.

Stepping onto Central Ave, I take a second to look around. Nothing has stopped, nothings changed. Life goes on. I’m just like my father, just another statistic, a drone. Setting the box down, I pick up the picture of my father and embrace it in my arms. Leaving my jacket and card in the box, I start walking down Central Ave until I come to a stoplight. The light is red and the stoplight is flashing do not walk. I look down at my father’s picture.

            “I can’t get out of this one dad.”

I pull out my crumbled up pack of cigarettes, place it to my lips and light it. Inhale. Exhale. Looking at the cigarette.

            “So lung cancer huh.”

Stepping into the street I follow the painted lines marked on the ground until, until I hear a horn.