“Beaten, why for?”
“Why for?” Stephen echoed the music in his car. His hands clutched the steering wheel as he sped towards the office. His eyes growing heavier by the second, he held them open wide with will power fueled by a desire to not crash on the highway.
“Can’t take much more!” the song continued.
Over the last week Stephen had been deprived of sleep, dropped in a wild forest, chased by timberwolves, put under magical experimentation, bounced so hard that he left an indentation in a giant oak tree, chased by timberwolves again, harassed by a dragon and thrown out of a second story window. As painful as all of that was, bruises and sore ankles paled in comparison to the gaping heart wound of knowing that the woman he’d loved the most would not stay by his side to help him through it. Wasn’t his whole life of perfect mental health enough evidence to take his plight more seriously, if even just for a moment? Wasn’t there any precedence for her to realize that he might actually be having a real problem? Apparently not as all of their history was tossed asunder and unlikely circumstances were confused for insanity.
Stephen’s right foot grew heavier on the acceleration, trying to get to the office as fast as possible to work for a promotion that no longer mattered. If he were to get it, he would have a noticeably higher pay and vacation time. After a few months of saving he would have taken her on a vacation with him, just like she had been suggesting. Hawaii was always the first place on his mind even though he knew it was a stretch. This would have been his ultimate gesture to show her how even though he wasn’t athletic like all of her past boyfriends, he could be even more caring, supportive and dependable than any of them ever could. During his night with Pinkie Pie, he made sure to add ‘playful’ to that list as well. Then he would take her out on the beach and at sunset, he would take a knee and…well it didn’t matter anymore. Selena left him and she took this plan with her. Suffering at this job was nothing more than a pointless habit right now.
The cherry on top of this cluster screw sundae was the fact that he had to rely on this unpalatable noise to keep him safe. How he had been looking forward to a quiet car ride to recompose himself before having to show his face at the office. But it only took his eyes drooping shut once, for just a second, to realize that a quiet car ride was out of the question. How he wished he’d thought ahead and grabbed his work clothes before storming out of his house the day before. Of all the places he walked in silent solitude overnight, why didn’t he think to add the office to that list? His eyes never threatened to close on him while he walked and he wouldn’t have had to grate his ears on this music. But as much as he hated it, there was some truth to the lyrics. Stephen could not take much more.
“One – nothing wrong with me…” The song preached on.
Stephen knew he wasn’t crazy even if Selena didn’t. He knew darn well that his mind had never been able to trick him before so how would it suddenly start now? If Selena couldn’t see that than it’s her fault. Why would he want her anyway if she ran at the first sign of trial in the relationship?
“Two – nothing wrong with me…”
Granted, he’d gotten upset and lost his head for a little bit yesterday. But who wouldn’t snap in a situation like this? It’s perfectly normal to get frustrated when you’re exhausted beyond description and literally can’t sleep. There’s nothing abnormal with being frightened of a world filled with giant, carnivorous wooden wolves, dragons and who knows what else.
“Three – nothing wrong with me…”
Stephen’s job, as monotonous as it was, was not a pointless habit either. As long as he enjoyed eating and having a house of his own, he’d need to work for it. It didn’t matter how much he hated it or if Selena wasn’t around anymore.
“Four – nothing wrong with me!”
Stephen had never been able to fool anyone else before so why was he trying to fool himself now? He had gone his whole life without being confrontational, argumentative or losing his temper on someone, regardless of how upset something made him. Somehow he’d always known that standing up for himself or expressing his true feelings would only cause more problems. So he always rolled with whatever his life and the people in it would throw at him. That being known, why did he suddenly lose his composure and go against the grain of every other decision he’s ever made? Even if he had every reason to be angry, scared and stubborn, he didn’t need to lose control of himself the way he did. He should have retained mastery over his emotions even in these circumstances, but he didn’t. He even had two perfect opportunities to practice before he snapped at Selena, but he didn’t. That’s what was wrong with him and Selena was gone now because of it.
He only had to tolerate the wailing music for another couple minutes before turning into the office’s parking lot. His tires gave a quiet screech as he pulled into a parking space too fast and slammed on the brakes to make sure he didn’t ride onto the curb. After pocketing a few energy shots, he made his way into the office and clocked in.
Between nine o’clock and ten thirty, Stephen’s phone only rang once and it was a wrong number at that. Where was the plethora of customers and suppliers with problems that needed to be solved ringing his phone off the hook like they did on Monday? Almost twenty mind-numbing minutes later, the phone rang again. Fast enough to make an old-western gunslinger proud, Stephen snatched up the phone and greeted them with the same enthusiasm that kept him awake the last two days.
“Hey, how are you doing?” the customer asked.
That wasn’t a question Stephen wanted to be asked right now. “I’m just dandy, sir,” a nervous chuckle escaped and Stephen barely managed to cover it by clearing his throat. “How about yourself?”
“I’m fine. Thanks for asking. I’m told you guys can get me a good deal on linoleum flooring.”
“I’ll bet we can. Do you know how much you need?”
“I’m not sure but I figure about thirty square feet should be more than enough to handle it.”
“If you’d like I can arrange for someone to come out there and see exactly how much you’d need.”
“I might do that but for now can you tell me how much it would be for just the flooring?”
“Certainly…” Stephen paused for just a moment and his train of thought was completely lost. While trying to think of what to do next, his mind went completely fuzzy. Stephen attempted to retrace his steps. The customer just made a request. I was just about to do something for him. What was it? What was the request again?
“Well?” the customer asked impatiently.
Stephen snapped out of the trance and the answer reappeared in his mind. “Ah yes! You said you wanted a quote on thirty square feet of linoleum right?”
“That’s right,”
Stephen pulled out his calculator and his train of thought disappeared yet again. Rolling his eyes at himself, he held the phone away from his ear and gave himself a hard smack on the forehead with the heel of his palm. The number thirty flashed in his head for a split second and when it was gone, a small headache stood in its place. “You said linoleum, right?” Stephen asked.
“Yeah, about three times now, brother,” the customer responded dryly. Before he could forget again, Stephen typed the number thirty into his calculator and looked up their prices for linoleum flooring. Once he had it, he used the calculator to multiply it by thirty and relayed the number to the customer. “Alright, that’s all I need to know for now. Thanks for your help.”
“You’re welcome, have a great day.”
The sound of the customer hanging up was Stephen’s cue to relax, but not for long. His head was light, his eyes were heavy and his mind was fuzzy. He couldn’t allow himself to become delirious here so he trekked slowly to the break room. Once there, his eyes were immediately pulled to an angelic looking coffee pot with just enough left inside for one full cup.
He borrowed a coffee mug from the break room cupboard and stood next to the machine as he fished his pockets for an energy shot. While he was doing that, a smug voice permeated his ears with, “Move, please.” Stephen instinctually stepped to his right and granted Damien access to the cupboard. Damien reached up and pulled out another one of the office’s coffee mugs. Giving Stephen a cocky ‘what’s up?’ nod, he turned towards the coffee pot.
“Whoa, hang on, Damien,” said Stephen. “I was just about to go for that.”
“Well it looks like you weren’t fast enough,” he said as he picked the pot up from the hot plate. “Tough luck, I’m afraid.”
“Okay, look, Damien. I know we’ve always had this thing where you like to patronize me because I won’t do anything about it. But I’ve had some real tough luck already the last few days so could you please give me a break just this once?” Stephen pleaded.
The coffee poured into Damien’s mug. “Didn’t we already have a conversation about controlling our personal lives and not letting it affect how we work? This is going to start reflecting badly on you, buddy.” A full mug in hand, Damien turned around to face Stephen. “Shouldn’t you be at your desk anyway? What if the phone rings?”
“There are two other people here who take calls,” Stephen retorted despite his desire to not risk an argument. It was a slip but he was still doing his best to hold himself together. “I’m just looking for a quick pick up and then I’ll be right back at it.”
“You can always make more.” Damien turned around and grabbed the coffee can, raised his eyebrow at it and set it back down with a chuckle. “Whoops, nevermind. It looks like we’re out. Guess you’ll have to get more during lunch break.”
Lunch break was still an hour-and-a-half away and Stephen doubted he could wait that long. He took a long, deep breath in and exhaled as slowly as possible, hoping it would relax his tensing shoulder, neck and jaw muscles. “I thought it was good etiquette to replace the coffee when one uses the last of it.”
“Wasn’t it you going for the last of it when I came in here though?” Damien had a look in his eyes that mixed all the worst parts of maliciousness and pleasure and was shooting it straight at Stephen as he pressed the mug to his lips and tilted it back. Stephen’s rage increased incrementally with the angle of the mug’s tilt. At least ten seconds later, with a smile and a sigh of relief, Damien set his mug back on the counter. The sound of an empty ceramic cup meeting a kitchenette counter top floated into Stephen’s ears.
Stephen felt his left eye twitch, his teeth grind and every muscle in his upper body become so tense that he couldn’t even move. “Damien…” he called through clenched teeth just before his vision blacked out entirely.
In an instant, Stephen’s life flashed before his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to shout at the top of his lungs about how this man in front of him has been the bane of his existence since elementary school. From repeatedly pushing him off swings in third grade to taunting him throughout middle school, physically humiliating him throughout high school physical education, stealing his first girlfriend in tenth grade, pranking him repeatedly through community college and right to this day doing everything in his power to make Stephen’s work life miserable.
In that same instant, every terrible way he ever wanted to refer to Damien came back to him. He wanted to tell Damien how his body, face and personality bore resemblance to an upright cockroach with missing legs. Or how he wished that he could go back in time and interrupt whatever sinister ritual created this foul excuse for a man, which stood before him.
Maybe Stephen should tell Damien about his week? Nothing would have pleased him more than to spill the details on how he had been abducted, dropped in the wilderness, chased by wolves, beaten up, chased by wolves again, verbally harassed, thrown out of a second story window and lost the love of his life. So there was no patience left for Damien’s nonsense and for once in his life, he should attempt to exhibit an emotion besides elitist smug.
All of these thoughts passed through Stephen’s mind in an instant. But Stephen wouldn’t lose his temper yet. He knew better than that by now. Someday would come when there wasn’t so much on the line and he would know all the nicest possible ways he could convey these feelings. That day would be a good day. But it was not today. Today was certainly not a good day and it was very suddenly made even worse by Death’s icy grip clasping onto Stephen’s shoulder. It was also of note that Death’s hand was surprisingly big and meaty.
Wait a second, how long have I been zoned out? Stephen asked himself.
“My office now!”
The extremely rare sound of Kramer’s infuriated voice snapped Stephen back to reality, where he found himself still in the break room. But it was different than it was when his vision left him. For example, Stephen could now smell the coffee on Damien’s breath. Damien, himself, looked like he’d seen a pink elephant and for once in his life, was at a loss for words. Out of his peripherals, Stephen could see at least three coworkers standing at the doorway of the break room. Every muscle in Stephen’s body locked into place as his eyes tried to jump out of his head and his heart attempted to escape through his throat.
Stephen barely managed to gulp his heart back down. “I said all that out loud, didn’t I?” he asked quietly. He received silence in response. But that was answer enough. There wasn’t any other reason that these people would be there, staring at him.
Kramer released Stephen’s shoulder and stormed towards the door into the offices. “You too, Damien!” he shouted on his way out. The other employees parted like the Red Sea to make way for him. Without a word, they all filed away from the doorway and resumed their duties.
“You’re a piece of work, you know that?” Damien quipped before leaving the break room.
Stephen’s muscles continued doing a perfect imitation of a man who was part of an alternating electrical current. The full reality of the situation slowly sunk into Stephen’s consciousness until it dropped into the pit of his gut like a ton of lead. His stomach churned and his gag reflex prompted him to rush to the bathroom. He barely made it to a toilet in time to lose his breakfast.
Clutching his stomach and barely recomposed, Stephen entered Kramer’s office. Kramer was sitting behind at his desk, his blazer was off and his tie was loose. His fingers were tapping loudly against the desk as he glared at the door. Sitting behind his right shoulder was Kathy. She was a tall, blonde, early thirties woman who had the same build as five pencils taped together in the form of a person. Her arms were crossed and she was trying to not look at Stephen with her miffed expression. Damien was sitting on Stephen’s right, reclined in one of Kramer’s office chairs with his legs crossed and his head resting on his hand. His eyes were glazed and his face was expressionless.
“What took you so long?” Kramer asked angrily.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Stephen meekly replied.
“Have a seat,” Kramer ordered. With the very weight of the air being almost too much to bear, Stephen practically fell into the chair. The air got even thicker as an uncomfortable silence loomed for several painful seconds, eventually being broken by Kramer. “Kathy, you may begin.”
Stephen wasn’t looking at her. But judging by the heat he felt on his cheek, which seemed to be emanating from her direction, he could tell she had turned to look down on him. “Are you aware that I had to bring my three-year-old daughter into work today?” her voice was soft but the contained fury behind it cut like a razor.
Stephen leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his head on his hands. “No, ma’am,” was all he said.
“Well you might not know this but sometimes, when you’re a mother, your day care has to close for a day and nobody can babysit for you. But if money is tight you might not be able to afford a day off. She’s well behaved enough so Kramer said she could come in with me. So I figured ‘why not? I work in with nice enough people. What could go wrong?’ What I did not expect was one of my coworkers throwing a vulgar tantrum in the break room for everyone to hear!” Kathy was holding back shouts by the end of her speech.
“I’m sorry.”
“My daughter is at a very impressionable age,” Kathy continued. “The last thing I want right now is for her to learn words like…” Wondering what brought on the sudden pause, Stephen glanced up. Kathy’s face had turned red. Her lips were locked and her eyes were looking away. “…Mother…pheasant plucker…” she forced out with very deliberate annunciation. Damien sniggered, prompting dirty looks from Kathy and Kramer. Damien responded by clearing his throat and sitting up properly. Kathy turned her attention back to Stephen. “That among other words I’d rather not repeat. What if my daughter goes to day care and uses those words? Do you know how that would reflect on me, Stephen? I should be able to come to work with confidence that all of my coworkers can operate above a ninth-grade maturity level.”
Kramer held up his hand at her. “You’ve made your point, Kathy.” Folding his hands on the desk, Kramer glared at Stephen. “What is your response, Stephen?”
“I’m sorry,” Stephen repeated at a volume he’d come to expect from Fluttershy. “I didn’t mean it.”
“You may leave now,” said Kramer. With that, Kathy walked out of the room. When the door closed, Kramer turned his head towards Damien. “Now, Damien, why don’t you tell me what happened?”
“Heck if I know,” Damien shrugged. “I went into the break room for some coffee and Stephen practically went postal. You heard the stuff he was spewing out.”
Kramer raised an eyebrow at Damien. “Is that the extent of it?” he asked.
Damien gave a confident nod. “Yeah that’s just about it. I go in, get my coffee, casually toss off a joke about how he’ll have to get more and he lost his mind.”
Kramer groaned and leaned back in his chair. Rubbing his eyes with a hand, he waved towards the door with the other. “You’re excused, Damien.”
“Thank you,” said Damien as he rose from his chair. Just before he walked out the door, he turned back around. “By the way, I’m pretty close to closing that deal with the county.”
“Good…good…Keep it up,” Kramer droned as the door closed behind Damien. Stephen’s heart sank into his shoes when he returned to being the center of Kramer’s attention. There was a long, awkward silence as Kramer straightened his posture, folded his hands on his desk and stared Stephen down. “What’s gotten into you?”
Stephen shrank in his chair and tried to look away. “Just…just a lot of personal problems, sir. I’m sorry.”
“So what happened in there?”
“I don’t know,” Stephen choked out. “I honestly don’t know. I just blacked out. I didn’t know I was saying anything. That’s never happened to me before. I just…”
Kramer held up a hand and Stephen immediately stopped talking. After a moment, Kramer spoke again. “I run a tight ship here and it’s no secret that I expect nothing but professionalism from my employees.” Kramer’s voice very rarely carried any real tone or emotion to it. He was known around the office for his droning. But this seemed like an entirely different Kramer. His voice was booming inside the office. Emotion on his face was an even sparser sight. But now his eyes were wide, his brow was furrowed and he was glaring at Stephen like an awoken dragon. “This is so we can all come here, work hard, earn our pay and go home to spend a nice night with our personal lives as quickly as possible. This can’t be done if there are distractions such as employees feuding in the break room. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Stephen mumbled.
“Now then…this is not your first issue with Damien and I won’t run the risk of there being a kink in my machine. But I know you’re a good worker. I also don’t want to be the jerk that lays-off a man who’s obviously already got enough on his plate as it is. So here’s the deal;” Stephen perked up with a glimmer of hope that he would be pardoned. “Go home.” That hope was instantly deflated. “Go home and take a break for a while. When you’ve gotten your act back together, come talk with me and maybe we can work something out. Does that sound fair to you?”
Stephen breathed deeply and lowered his head. “Does it matter?” he asked.
Kramer raised an eyebrow and stroked his chin once. “I suppose it doesn’t,” Kramer’s voice returned to its usual drone. “But it’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”
With that, it was official. Stephen had nothing left. He took a moment to summon every ounce of strength remaining in his body to pull himself to his feet. Kramer rose up with him and followed him as he trudged out of the building. The journey out might as well have been the green mile with the way he felt. Once they were outside, Stephen shook hands with Kramer. When they separated, Stephen dragged himself back to his car and Kramer disappeared behind the tinted glass doors of the office building to return to his managerial duties.
Stephen drove home faster than he had ever drove before. Deciding he’d already been tortured enough today, he opted for a radio station that was playing Beethoven’s 5th symphony. Stephen kept his mind off his troubles by overzealously pretending to conduct the orchestra until he pulled into his driveway. Whereupon he rushed into his house and up the stairs as fast as he could with a limp.
Tackling his mattress, the full reality of the situation flooded him a second time. His sinuses filled, making him to breathe through his mouth. His chest ached and heaved with his labored breathing. Teams of jackhammers were hard at work inside his skull. A single tear escaped his eye and ran down his cheek to get absorbed by his pillow.
Stephen locked his eyes shut and clutched his face. “I don’t care anymore!” he shouted to the heavens. “I’ve lost my girl and my job and it’s only a matter of time until I lose everything else!” Stephen pounded his mattress with a fist. “Whatever I’m wanted for, I don’t care anymore!” he continued to shout. “Please! I’ll do anything to make this stop and get my life back!” Stephen relaxed with a few deep breaths and opened his eyes. A couple more tears escaped as he said, “Just take me so I can get this over with.”