Ordinary Life

http://www.angelfire.comweird/chelseasplace/

http://www.angelfire.comweird/chelseasplace/

This is my latest story. Say it cuks, say it doesnt, i dont really give a crap. It's mine, and i made it up so :-P

Ordinary Life
I live an ordinary life. Nothing special. Small town, small job, small life. Nothing interesting ever happened to me until 3:00 this Saturday, when my telephone rang.
I had just come home from a typical day at the ooffice.
Well, I guess you can’t really call it an office.
I’m the manager of a local restaurant, ‘The Flying Italian’. We serve Italian fast-food, and as one might expect, business is slow.
I guess people don’t appreciate fine Italian cuisine. It was my best friend Ernie’s dream, his brainchild. He poured his sweat and blood into this business, and he was never disappointed. He came up with our logo, a cartoon chef on a To-Go bag with wings. He died in his sleep, maybe at the shock of having our first real customer that morning. I could have gone to New York, pursued a real career, I already had it all planned out.
I couldn’t just let his only dream fade away, I owed him that much. I threw my coat onto the table and sank into my dark blue Lazy Boy. Nothing more trite than a tired worker flopping into a Lazy Boy armchair to watch the news.
I was too late for it though, some sappy over-used movie full of new-age psychobabble stood in its place. I kicked off my shoes and went to the fridge for a soda. My dog, Cassidy, was huddled in the corner. I was just about to sink back into my chair and truly absorb how depressing my life had turned out to be when the phone rang. Cassidy stood up shakily,
“It’s OK Cass, I got it.” I mumbled as I reached for our tacky blue telephone.
“Hello?” No one answered. I could hear a muffled sound, like sobs.
“Hello??” I repeated.
“I need to talk to someone.”
“Well who do you need Ma’m?”
“Anyone.” Her voice was low and raspy.
“I’m not sure I follow,”
“I just need to talk to someone, or,” She paused,
breathing deeply. “Or what?”
“I think I might kill myself.” My head went blank. “Well don’t do that Ma’m. I’m here, you can talk to me.”
I wasn’t exactly sure what I was doing. Cassidy was licking my foot like crazy, she was probably hungry. I was confused. I wanted to ask her why she called me, and who she was, but it definitely didn’t feel like the right time. “Are you sure?” she said weakly.
“Of course.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. My eyes wandered to the television.
“Nobody else answered the phone.” She sobbed, “I swore that if you didn’t pick up…”
“It’s OK. I’m here for you.” Who was this mystery woman?
“It’s been so awful. My husband left, he took the kids, you would think that would be enough to drive me over. They fired me! I worked at that lousy office for fifteen years and they had the nerve to fire me! It’s not as if they didn’t know before!”
I was dying to ask her what she was talking about, but I’m not that stupid. I just stood there like a baffled moron and let her talk. “I’ve been an alcoholic for eight years,” she continued, “It’s not like they didn’t know before! I was trying to be better, and they laid me off. I may never see my babies again. He had some nerve. Unfit as a mother, he told them. They bought every word of it. I don’t think I can pay the bills! My landlord is ready to throw me out as it is.
I don’t know what I’m going to do!” she broke down into hysterical sobs once more. My eyes were fixated on the TV. I watched the over-rehearsed actors every move, as if one of them would suddenly reveal the answer. What was I supposed to say to this woman? “I’m sure it will turn out all right.” I was shocked at the stupidity of my own voice.
“Oh you are?” Her voice was angry, “ Well you listen! You don’t have the slightest idea in that dim-witted, airhead of yours! You couldn’t know what it’s like! You won’t know until the one person you loved and trusted the most rips your screaming children from your arms and takes them where he has no intention of ever letting you come! Until your life is ripped into tiny pieces! So don’t you tell me that it’s going to be all right!” She screamed at me in an infuriated tone.
“No you listen lady! I don’t know who you are or why you called me, but my life isn’t wonderful either! What do you expect me to say? I admit it! All right? I was not prepared for a suicidal woman to call me up and expect me to know the answers to all life’s problems! So don’t you yell at me, Lady! And don’t you go and kill yourself either, because that is the last thing I need hanging over my head right now!”
I was tempted to slam the phone down into its hollow, plastic cradle. I couldn’t do it. I am not a person of morals, or strict principles. I am not a person of philosophy or ethics. I trust my impulses, which I believe to be the best reflections of my principles. My father always said “Trust a man by what he does in the half-second, not by what he does in his lifetime.”
The woman was silent.
“I didn’t expect you to know the answers. I just wanted someone to listen to me. They never listen to me, really listen.” I could sympathize with this. “I do know how that feels. I live alone on a small town. Movies play small towns out to be loving communities where there is always a listening ear. Well this is not one of those. Its not that people won’t listen, it’s that they don’t care.”
“It’s easier for me to talk to strangers. Isn’t that stupid? I didn’t even consider calling my friends or family. I just started dialing random numbers. I thought sooner or later I would find someone. Someone who could fix this mess.” Her voice was clearer. I could sense her desperation.
“I don’t know if there is anything I can do. I don’t even know who you are.” “My name is Rosalyn Bovey, but everyone calls me Randy.”
“Nice to meet you, Randy. My name is Jonathan Phillips, but everyone calls me Jay.” “Jay?”
“Jay.” That’s the truth. Everyone does call me Jay. It’s a funny story actually. When I was born my Mother insisted that everyone call me Jonathan because she detested nicknames. That worked, for about a month. First everyone called me Johnny P. That really got on my nerves, so they called me Johnny. After a while they got lazy and started calling me John. Then, the year my mother died everyone called me Joe. I suppose Joe was just too much for these people, because now they simply call me by the first letter of my legal name, Jay.
“Listen, I gotta go.” Randy said suddenly, breaking my thoughts.
“OK. It was nice talking to you. I hope to hear from you again.” For once that stupid phrase had special meaning. I heard her laugh faintly.
“OK. Maybe you will.” And she was gone.
I stood with the phone for some time before returning it to its shell. I picked up my soda. The ice cubes had melted into it leaving a disgusting watery flavor, so I poured it down the sink. Cassidy moaned behind me. “What’s a matter girlie?” I cooed rubbing her neck and shoulders. I love beagles, they have such sweet faces. I stared at her kibble. “Know what? I think you deserve some fine dining.” I opened up the pantry and grabbed a can of soft dog food that I had bought her. I ripped off the tab and set it down, where she devoured it enthusiastically. My feet were pale and freezing on the horrible lime green kitchen tiles. My grandmother left me this house when I was a little boy. She told me I would be too rich and famous to ever live in it. The dreams of a happy little boy are too soon dashed away by the realities of modern society. I grabbed some leftovers form the restaurant and went in search of my favorite pair of slippers. I couldn’t get that woman out of my head. “Friday night.” I thought sadly. “Might as well go to bed.” I looked at the clock, six-thirty. I put the leftovers on the ground for Cassidy and went to sleep. I dreamed of a happier time in my life. Ernie was still alive, and so was his wife Lisa. Lisa was so great; she and Ernie were my best friends. We were all out bowling, which is weird because Ernie hates bowling. But it was Friday night, and we were all together. I decided that if I was going to dream, I might as well dream big. So I threw in that Randy lady, too. I bowled a perfect game, and Ernie gave me his Mustang. If dreams could only last forever.
I woke up to the piercing screech of my alarm clock. Five AM, on the dot. Cassidy was growling lazily at my feet. Some people ask me why I named her Cassidy instead of just Cassy. Ernie use to call me ‘The Sundance kid’, and I called him ‘Butch’. It all started the day Ernie brings home this mean looking bulldog, and he’s wearing a new leather jacket. I walked up to him and said “Hey Butch.” And he said that if I was going to wear that stupid yellow blazer he was going to call me ‘The Sundance Kid’. So after Ernie dies I find this little beagle at the pound. She looked like Lisa, Ernie and that old bulldog all mixed together. So I walked up to her cage and said “Hey Cassidy.” And she stuck by me ever since. I threw on my old blue sweater and started the coffee. I was still a little blurry, seeing as I just woke up. “Go fetch me the paper Cassy! Fetch! C’mon!” she gave me a sleepy glance. Just as I was about to step out the door the telephone rang. I kept walking out to get the paper; it never crossed my mind that it could be Randy. “Get that for me, would you Cass?” I mumbled sleepily as I made my way back inside. The phone was still ringing.
“Hello?” I grumbled.
“Not a morning person, are we?” A woman laughed. I was confused.
“Who is this? Do you know what time it is?” “Yes I do actually. I figured this was the only time I could catch you before you went to work.” My brain was not yet fully functional. I stared blankly at the dripping coffee pot. “Who is this?”
“This is Randy. I talked to you last night.” Suddenly I remembered.
“Oh yes, I remember you. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again.”
“I just wanted to thank you.” “Me?”
“Of course you.” She laughed.
“For what? I didn’t do anything.” The pot was almost done. The drips were becoming farther and farther apart.
“You really helped me, just by listening and all. You must be really busy,”
“At five in the morning? What kind of person is busy at five in the morning?” At last! The orange light had finally flickered out, and the pot was full of its beautiful caffeinated fluid. I grabbed my yellow mug and filled it to the brim.
“I’m really sorry I woke you up.” “Don’t be. I had to get up anyway.” “Well, that’s all I needed to say, goodbye.” She paused for a moment.
“You’re welcome, and thank you.” “Goodbye.” Her voice cracked a little. “Have a nice day.” With that I put down the phone and began drinking my coffee as I pawed through the paper, pretending to read it.
After the caffeine had sufficiently worked its way into my system I went to get dressed. I thought about Randy. What did she look like? Where does she live? Did she really just pull my number out of thin air? I looked at the clock. Six fifteen. “Great. I’m late.” I grabbed my uniform shirt and rushed to the car. It’s nothing special. It’s just a navy blue polo shirt with the ‘Flying Italian’ logo embroidered on the front pocket. I got rid of the paper hats with wings. I love you Ernie but enough is enough. I opened up shop. The first few hours roll by like an eternity. Perry, Jacky, and Tony come in. That’s all the help I need, and it’s usually too much. At precisely 11:00 am every workday Mrs. Acosta drives thru and orders her usual, the Insulata di Tuna. That’s tuna salad Italian style, (olive oil, olives, and spices), served with a cool Diet Cola. We tried to make it truly Italian, but that was too much work. We just throw stuff together with lots of olives and olive oil and give it a fancy Italian name. The Romana use to be a big hit. I put up a sign, told everyone it was all the rage in Italy. We serve it as lettuce, cottage cheese, tomatoes, onions, and Macaroni. Don’t forget the olive oil, lots of olive oil. It may not be the real thing, but it’s close enough. She’s our only regular customer. Mr. Tulane loves our three layer lasagna, known by us as the three minute lasagna. Thank god for microwavable freezer food. At least our floors are always clean. I usually finish up at three when the last of the lunch crowd has ordered. Kelly runs the dinner business. She owns the Hot-Stuff Café just three miles down the road. It’s about as elegant as it sounds. The sign sports a huge neon waitress with huge red hair and huge red lips. I would not eat there if my life depended on it. But Kelly is young and pretty, the whole town loves her. So if Kelly starts a restaurant that is where the town is going to eat. Not me. Let the town have its Kelly White. What do I care?
I threw my coat back onto the table. I angrily kicked my shoes across the kitchen and collapsed onto the floor. “My life is depressing.” Cassidy started to lick my face. I thought about Randy again. Her life was terrible, but at least something was happening. At least she had a hole to look out of. My life is just flat nothing, day after day. Maybe that call is my way out of this. A meteor sent from heaven to add a few mountains to this desert. I’ve tried to shake it up in this useless town before. It’s like talking to a rock. No, I take it back. Rocks have a head start on these people. “I am a plain white shirt hanging on the clearance rack in an abandoned department store.” Cassidy snapped at me. I laughed. It’s her way of telling me there are things more important than being depressed, like dog food, for instance. My stomach rumbled. “Speaking of food.” I was just about to go to the fridge when guess what. The phone rang. I picked it up quickly.
“Do you always have to call at such odd moments?” “Sorry boss.” I froze.
“Oh, hi Perry.” “Look, I have things I gotta do.” Perry grunted. “Ok,” Perry is not as bright as he seems. “Tomorrow I mean. I can’t go to work.” “Perry you have had seven personal days this month! That’s more than two days a week! Listen, I ask you to work six hours a day, four days a week. When you said Saturdays weren’t good, I said OK. When you said Mondays weren’t good, I said OK. Now you are showing up two days a week at most, not working full shift, and stretching my patience. Your excuse is that business is slow. Well that is relevant here too. I can’t afford to keep you around when you’re lazy, unnecessary, and unavailable. You’re fired Perry.” My tone was surprisingly indifferent. I had been waiting for weeks to say those words, to finally get rid of him. He’d be a good kid if he’d just learn some work ethic.
He was silent for a moment.
“Whatever. Look Mr. Phil, I can get a better job at the Café anyway. I was just sticking around to help you out. If you want me gone, fine. But I know for a fact Mrs. Acosta only comes here to see me. Why don’t you just face it Jay? Business is always going to be slow. Just quit while you’re not too far behind.” He sounded like he was getting a second wind, but I hung up before he had time. I cradled my head in my hands. I went to the TV, only to find the same stupid movie that had been on yesterday. But my Lazy Boy was calling to me. So I grabbed a sub and fixed a vacant stare on the screen until I fell asleep. I was only half-asleep, ready to spring any moment at the sound of the phone. I wondered what Randy’s kids were like. I wondered if they missed their mom. I wondered if I would ever have anything in my life interesting enough to wonder about. Surrounded by the over-used sayings of famous television actors I fell asleep. I woke up to the sound of my alarm blaring in the distance, but instead of jumping up I laid back. The ‘Flying Italian’ is not open for business on Sunday. I thought about what Perry said. Maybe I should close the store. Ernie loved it, but would he have loved it like this? I don’t think he would have.
On the other hand, I can see the faces of the gentle townsfolk as I put up my Out of Business sign. That trademark “I told you it wouldn’t work Jonathan,” glare in their beady black eyes. They’re waiting for me to fail; maybe they want me to fail. I was so deep in my thoughts I didn’t hear the phone ring. Cassidy started barking wildly, and I picked it up just in time.
It was Randy.
“Hey. You will never believe how desperate I am. I lost your number, so I actually called information and looked up a Jonathan Phillips. I called all three of you. I wasn’t sure if you lived in Dayton, Arbor Town, or Gunton.”
“Well, now you know. I live in Gunton. The stupidest name for a town I have ever heard. Wait, actually it kind of makes sense, seeing as all my neighbors are rifle toting airheads.” She laughed.
“This is so weird,” I said. “ I’m talking to you like a friend. I don’t even know you. This will sound stupid, but yesterday I actually waited for you to call. I was a little disappointed when you didn’t.” “Why?”
“You called me to have someone to talk to, right? Well, I need someone just as bad as you do. It was fun talking to you. Maybe not the topics of conversation, but you know what I mean.”
“I do. I lived with my husband for ten years, and I never really talked to him once.” “What about the kids?” “I’m working on it. My lawyer says I have a chance. He can’t just take them away.” “Yeah.” There was a pause. “What about you?” she said abruptly. “What about me?” “Your life. What’s so bad about you?” “I run an unsuccessful restaurant left to me by my deceased best friend, I have no money, a crummy house, no friends or close family, and everyone in my incredibly boring small town hates me. I am in the lowest rut in the history of ruts.” “Don’t complain to me.”
“But that’s my whole point! At least you have an excuse to be miserable! At least there are good days! I would give anything for ups and downs.” “Well you seem like you’re pretty good at the downs. Hold on, I’m getting my mail” I poured myself a glass of lukewarm coffee. “Well guess what? I got an eviction notice.” She sounded agitated. “I’m sorry.” There was a long silence. I knew how she felt, confused, hopeless, and helpless. That’s how I felt when my mom died. I was only fifteen. What was I supposed to do?
I had a sudden inspiration. A sudden, irrational, insane inspiration, but an inspiration nonetheless. “Do you have anywhere to go?” I asked, concerned. “No. I don’t know what I’m going to do.” I gathered my courage.
“Why don’t you stay with me?” “What??” “Stay with me! I could use the company. I feel like I’ve known you forever as it is.” “Don’t you think we should at least meet first?” “Of course. Do you know how to get here?” “Sure. It’s just 20 miles south.” “Good. Meet me at the Flying Italian, twelve o’clock Saturday.” Twelve is the busiest time of day. I figured if someone was going to visit me, I might as well make some gossip. “OK. I can’t believe I’m actually agreeing to this.” “I can’t believe I’m asking.” “See you.” “See you.” I hung up the phone. My hands were shaky. Cassidy was giving me funny looks. I must have been going crazy. I talked to this woman on the phone three times, a dysfunctional alcoholic nonetheless, and I’m inviting her to my home? “She seems nice enough Cass. It’s not like we couldn’t use the company. We’re just meeting for lunch, if she’s a psycho I’ll send her packing.” Cassidy barked at me good-naturedly.
The week flew by. I had never been so anxious. I almost used the word excited, but I am not excited. I was too afraid to be excited. I pushed all the thoughts out of my head, and lived through the remainder of the days in blissful ignorance. I went through the motions, but my head was empty. I thought about only the task at hand, I never let my mind wander back to the fears and doubts. I wasn’t about to let that happen again. Fears and doubts have ruined my life, and for once I was rid of them. Suddenly, it was Friday night. It crept upon me so unexpectedly I wasn’t sure how to handle it. I lay in bed all night tossing and turning. It must have been three in the morning before I fell into a restless, half-sleep. When the alarm began to blast I jumped three feet into the air. I was already late. My alarm had been blaring since seven, but Ernie always said I could sleep through a hurricane. I pulled on my blue polo shirt and jeans. With Cass nipping at my heels and barking crazily I grabbed my car keys and rushed out the door. I drove the car full speed, ignoring the angry shouts of my fellow neighbors. I reached the parking lot. Everything stopped, my mind went blank again. Staring into the glossy windows, I searched for the words. This could be my moment. The moment I’ll always think about, what makes my life special. Everyone has to have a moment, and this has to be mine. I could see her through the window. She had a thick mass of curly red hair, and her face was deeply sunken into it. Her little gray eyes darted around the room, searching for me. She sat tall and strong, as if she had weathered a great deal. She was not beautiful, no more beautiful than I am handsome. I visualized my life as a flat desert again. Then I added a few hills, valleys, and mountains. I smiled and ran all the way to the front door of the restaurant.
“Hello.” My voice was shaky, and she whirled around to face me. She ran her eyes up and down me, sizing me up. “Jay?” A deep red color appeared on her cheeks. I imagine it was on mine, too. “This is so weird.” She said. Her voice was like it had been on the phone. It reminded me of smoke, it crept out of her slowly and hung in the air for several minutes. It was soft and fluid. “I don’t know what to say,” I really didn’t. I was dumbstruck. I hadn’t allowed myself to picture this moment, so I was completely unprepared. “I can finally put a face to the voice. So how is
everything?” She smiled again. “Everything is fine. So all this is yours?” Her hand motioned at the restaurant.
“I guess you could say that.” “Well sit down!” She laughed so beautifully it made me grin like an idiot. “Sure. Hey, Jacky!”
“Yes boss?” Jacky is my favorite waitress. She’s smart, witty, and a hard-worker. “Could you get me a soda?”
“Sure thing. Anything for the Lady?” Randy blushed. “Maybe just a glass of water.” “Oh come on Randy,” I laughed. “I’m buying.” “I guess I’ll have a Diet Cola then, with extra ice.” “Sure thing.” Jacky left us alone again, and the anxiety swept back over me. I was reminded of my later childhood. I had always wanted to be a writer. I wrote long stories, beautiful and elaborate. Right as I reached the climax, I stopped. The deadly disease of “writer’s block” crept slowly over me, and my head went blank. This time it was voice block. I had planned this out so beautifully, and carefully. But I had never looked past the wind in the road, I never allowed myself to finish the story. I laughed nervously. “Seemed like a better idea in your head, huh?” Randy said. “No, it’s not that.” Finally Jacky came back with the sodas. I savored mine, taking slow prolonged sips until the moment had become so awkward that I was forced to speak again. “So how was the trip over?” Great, small talk. “It was ok. This is a great place, you know. I love the idea. How did this come to you? Have you had much success? I know what you said on the phone, but it can’t be all bad.”
Finally, a topic of conversation where I know what to say. “First of all, It’s not my restaurant. I had this friend, Ernie. He and his girl Lisa were my best friends my entire life. We did everything together. So one day he comes up to me and he says, ‘Johnny, I’m going to open a restaurant.’ When he told me about it I was skeptical, but I did it anyway. Lisa died a few days after construction,” I paused. This particular subject still hurts me, a lot. “And Ernie didn’t wait much longer. It was the one thing he wouldn’t talk about.”
I remembered what it was like going to his apartment, seeing him there. He was late for work, and we had our first customer. I wanted to run over and tell him about it. When Lisa died it hit me hard, but when Ernie went I almost did too. “I’m so sorry.” She paused, the only natural thing to do in that situation.
“Don’t be. I’m ok.” We talked forever on those two red barstools. She told me about the kids, her ex-husband, her job. We talked about realizing the point when things take that awful turn, and I told her about my life. I told her about when my dad disappeared, (disappeared, ran off, what’s the difference) and about when my mom died. I must have talked her ear off about Ernie and Lisa. Enough for her to realize the wild crush I’d had on Lisa all those years. To tell you the truth, I didn’t care who Rosalyn Bovey was. I was just glad she was there, sitting next to me, talking to me. So much pain had been chipping away at me forever, it felt good. Maybe she didn’t fix it, maybe she didn’t give me any good advice, but that’s not important. What’s important is that I was talking to someone, willing to be friends with someone. Not just an acquaintance, or a work-friend. A true friend. Maybe I had never done it before because I was too afraid. I didn’t want to get hurt again. I thought maybe we’d both been hurt enough that it wouldn’t happen again. She did come to stay at my house. I fixed up Ernie’s old room and cleaned up Cassidy’s chew toys. For the first few days, things went ok. Every day it seemed to get better. We talked more, we laughed more, and I worked less.
Randy cut her hair, and dyed it brown. She said that it was time for a change. She did such an amazing job with her hair that she convinced me to let her do mine. I’ll admit it had been a while since my last haircut. My hair was a dull brown color with waves. It hung down to my neck. She cut it short, up to the top of my head. Then she dyed it a deep, brown color, a little darker than I would have liked but it was better than before. Convincing me that gel was the only way to make my hair look good, she spiked it up a little in the back. “First the hair, then the clothes.” She laughed. “I like my clothes just fine the way they are, but thanks for the hair.”
We ran around together all winter. Gunton is mainly made up of cranky seniors who want it like it was ‘back in the day’. During winter they flock south and leave us young people to manage the town. We drove up to the city almost every day. We found all these great stores I had never seen before. She even convinced me to close up the restaurant for the winter.
We developed a very cunning plan. Every day of every year had been the same old thing. I did the same things, dressed the same way, and talked to the same people. Randy decided that we should add a little something. So the first day back at work I show up with spiked hair, Ernie’s old leather jacket, boots; the works.
“Hey Jay!” Jacky said shocked. “What’s with the crisis?” I laughed. “It was getting a little boring around here Jack. I figured I’d better do something about it.” I could here Randy laughing even though she was outside. “I never figured you as that type of guy.” I stopped. This almost made me angry. How would she know what type of guy I was?
“Well, Jack, I decided I don’t really feel like coming to work today. Stay, leave, whatever. I don’t care.” She was stunned. I never missed work. I stormed out the door. Randy was collapsed on the sidewalk laughing. Seeing her like that made me laugh too.
“You should’ve seen it! A little crowd of people gathered at the window! I’ve never laughed so hard!” It was amazing to me that a woman who had been through so much could laugh like that. Not the kind of laugh that lasts a few minutes. A true, deep, laugh that makes you forget everything else besides the fact that that was the funniest thing you have ever seen. I loved being with her because she made me feel like that. When I was with her I was laughing, and happy. It was always exciting. We decided never to talk about depressing stuff. Laughter is the best medicine. Sometimes I wanted to ask her about her kids, but I decided no too. I figured it hurt enough without me reopening the wound. That’s how it was. I wrapped a bandage around my wounds and left them there to be forgotten about. I finally had a friend again. The months rolled by, but they were so much better than before. Randy convinced me to start writing again. But just like always, it could never progress. When I did finish the endings turned out forced, unoriginal, and borderline plagiarized. Randy got a job at a hair salon. The town was shocked at my makeover, but Kelly White liked the jacket so I had to give it up. Randy and Cass became my home. I didn’t care about anything else. I even let the restaurant slip out from underneath me. I told Jacky to run the place for me. As long as I was making enough to get by I could care less about everything else. Randy had some kind of expensive flu medication, but she paid for it. My book was about judgment, but I wanted to add a new twist to it. Besides that everything was running smoothly. My life was better, my job was better, and I was better.
Until one day my doorbell rang.

Randy was out at the hair salon, so I ran to answer it. Everyone in town knows Randy by now so she always handles the phone, doorbell, people, etc. Cassidy was already sitting by it, staring at the handle as if by some strange form of canine telekinesis she could open it if she looked at it long enough. I pulled my old blue sweater over my jeans and opened the door. A young man, a little older than myself, was standing outside. He had a crisp blue suit and a wide brimmed hat. He had a very business-like appearance. He clutched his leather briefcase tightly. “Excuse me, I’m so sorry to bother you. Is this the residence of Mr. Jonathan Phillips?” I almost laughed. He reminded me of my father, so uptight and classy in a messy and endlessly chaotic world. “That would be me.” I was a little embarrassed of my informal attire and uncombed hair. I straightened myself and brushed back the tight, brown waves. “Do you know a Mrs. Patricia Kline? Is she at home?” His eyes were nervous and frantic. “No, I can’t say that I do.” He ruffled through his briefcase until he came to a crumpled photograph.
“Do you know this Patricia Kline?” It was Randy. It wasn’t what she looked like now, not at all. What did he want with Randy? She told me she had money trouble, was someone looking for her?“I’ve seen her around.” I tried to sound cool and casual.
“May I come in sir? This is of the utmost importance.” No one has said the word ‘utmost’ to me since I was a little boy.
“I guess.”
We sat down on the sofa. I made sure that none of her stuff was in view.
“My name is Joseph Kline.”
“Are you related?”
“I’m her husband.” Suddenly I had it all figured out. This was her ex-husband; one of them must have had a name change.
“Ex-husband, you mean.”
“No, I am still her husband.” Ok, so maybe I didn’t have it all figured out.
“She ran out,” he continued. “The doctors said there was something wrong in her head. She had a perfect life. A wonderful job, a good marriage, three beautiful children.”
He showed me a picture of two little girls and a boy. “The doctors said that she broke. She didn’t think she deserved it. She ran away a few months ago, and the kids have been so heartbroken.” I could tell by his face they were not the only ones. “She said she was an alcoholic. She said you left her, got a divorce, and took the kids. She said she was evicted! She said her name was Randy!” I was so confused.
“ I’m so sorry. I think she really believes it sometimes. Is she taking her medication?” Oh god, the flu pills.
“Not always. I thought they were for the flu.” “Please, its not safe for her here. Can you tell me where she is? I’ve been looking for her for so long! Please help me!” He was desperate. He showed me papers, proving who she was, he was, papers about everything. He was very prepared, and I believed him. I took pity on him. I knew from my father that it took an awful lot of desperation for a businessman to show his feelings.
“She’s at the hair salon. She has a job there.” “She used to love hair. It was her second job.” “All her stuff is in that room.” I pointed to the guest bedroom. I could never imagine myself doing that.
“Where are you going to take her?”
“Back to Chicago. Back home to her kids, where she can get help.”
I helped him gather her things. I showed him a recent photo so he would know what she looked like. “Thank you for taking care of her. I’m sorry for all the trouble we’ve caused you. Thank you so much.” He shook my hand tightly.
He turned to me one last time, “Would you like to say goodbye? I can’t come back here.” My head rushed. I didn’t have time to think before an answer popped out of my mouth. “No. No thank you.” And he left. So that was it, she’s gone. What are the odds that she dialed my numbers? Out of all the phone numbers in the world, why did she dial mine? Is it fate? If it is, then what does it all mean? If she was sent to me then why was she taken away so quickly? I sunk back into my old depression. It’s so much easier to sink into than to get out of. “What’s wrong with me Cass? Is this my destiny? Am I destined to have nothing?”
The desert vision came back to me. My mountains and hills had sunk, my valleys raised. I sank to the floor. I should have known. Through all the time we spent together I never really got to know her. I told myself she was fine. She made me laugh, she made me feel happy, and I decided never to really look at her. I decided that happiness was enough. And now she’s gone. The bandages ripped off my old wounds, exposing them to the harsh climate. The hurt spread over my entire body. How could I have been so easily deceived? I leaned my head back against the wall. How could I say goodbye to Patricia Kline? My head throbbed. I could see Lisa. We were driving home, and the rain was so soft. I looked over at her for an instant; I needed to tell her how I felt. I finally worked up the courage. Just as my lips began to move, I heard her scream. Glass was shattering, tires screeched, and I could feel myself flying. When I woke up I was ten feet away from my car. Glass was everywhere, and another car was intertwined with mine. “Lisa!” I screamed. She never answered. I couldn’t get her out. I never told Ernie what I was going to say to her. I always felt like I was betraying him. Maybe that’s why I kept the business going. Good old-fashioned guilt. Why hadn’t I said goodbye to Randy? I never got to say goodbye to Ernie. I never got to say goodbye to Lisa, I never got to say what I had to.
The picture of Randy was still in my hand. I grabbed my jacket. I don’t care who she is, she was my friend, and I was going to see her. I held the picture tightly in my hand and pulled open the door. I heard something crash beside me. I picked it up, and it was a picture. It was one of my favorite pictures. Ernie and Lisa stared out at me from the frame with happy faces. I held up the picture of Randy. Suddenly I realized who Randy reminded me of. My eyes swelled. I had never been able to let go of Ernie and Lisa. I never told anyone that I loved Lisa, except Randy. I never let either of them go. I stared at Randy’s picture again.
“It’s time to let you go. I’m sorry, guys. I can’t do this anymore, it’s too hard. I’m giving you up cold turkey.” I put down the pictures and sat on my chair. I threw my jacket back to the sofa from where it had originally come. Cass jumped up in my lap. My head spun. I thought about my life for the millionth time. All I can remember are questions. Who am I? What am I going to do? What is my life? I had always pictured my existence as a flat desert. As a monotonous black line rolling on forever. Looking back on it, I could see it form another light. There are things in your life that you remember forever, and I have been blessed with so many. I have my family, my friends, Randy, and so much more. My life has ups and downs, and it always has. I have memories that will never fade, dreams that will never die, and a life that I have yet to live. I stared at my Cassidy, snoozing faithfully on my lap. I looked at my story about judgment sitting beside me. It lay open to the fifth page. For an instant I could see past the curves. In every story about quick judgment someone is made out to be bad, and turns out to be good. I know now that is not always the case. Sometimes we put masks on ourselves to try and see the good that is not really there, instead of seeing the good that is. Suddenly I knew what I had to do.
I was moving to New York.