Marculations

This is part three. Read part two.

“Hello? John?” Curtis put his pen down on John’s desk and gestured emphatically at him in a last ditch effort to get his attention. Finally, John turned in his chair and looked at him.

“Yeah, yeah Curtis, what’s up?”

“I said, are you finished with yesterdays progstat?”

The ‘progstat.’ Shivers shot up John’s spine at the mere mention. The ‘progstat’ was the latest in a series of ‘effectiveness measurement devices’ thought up by the newly installed manager of their department. The goal of the ‘progstat’, or ‘Daily Progress and Status Update’, which the form proudly announced itself as, was to measure the performance of each employee with such excruciating detail that said employee would become frustrated and quit, thus saving the company money and keeping them from having to lay anybody off.

Thus far, John had managed to keep up with three successive changes to the ‘progstat procedures’, each of which was more inclined to induce dementia than the previous incarnation. At this point, he struggled to remember what he actually did for this company besides report on his progress. In fact, merely filling out the progstat was becoming worthy of a mention on the progstat.

He lethargically reached into his filing box and pulled out a stapled two-page report, laying it out on the desk.

“Here it is, all stamped and stapled and ready to never be looked at.”

“Now John, that’s not the right attitude to have. You know very well that Mr. Davies carefully looks over each progstat to assemble the keydefs at the end of each week.”

Sweet lord. The ‘keydefs’, or ‘Key Deficiencies Report’, was yet another of the new torturous instruments management was using to prune the herd in this department. John paused and strained to determine at what point in his life he became a character in a George Orwell novel.

Curtis took the report into the stack he was carrying and trotted off, presumably to go brown-nose. John turned his gaze to his computer monitor. He studied the contents of the screen intently. The language appeared foreign to him. All at once, he could not remember what he was doing, the name of the company he worked for, or the hair color of his ninth grade geography teacher. His mind drained out as his eyes became fixed on a single word. Every synapse in his brain became completely dedicated to that word. As his focus intensified, he began deconstructing the individual letters that made up the word. And then, the bits that made up each letter. Time stretched on to infinity. Civilizations rose and fell inside the middle of an A.

“Woops, forgot my pen.”

Curtis’ voice sliced through John’s focus like a fine blade, and his existential journey through the alphabet was cut tragically short. Curtis snatched the pen off of the desk, lingering only for a moment before darting out of the cubicle.

John sighed, and scratched the back of his neck, irritating his mosquito bite and sending a sharp pain down his body. All he could think of now was getting home. Of course, he knew that as soon as he got home, all he would think of was going back to work.

Read part four.

This is part two. Read part one.

John tossed his keys on the end table and slammed the door behind him. Four hours. He was at that restaurant for four hours. Unimaginable. He lingered in the entryway, glancing around the apartment. No lights on. No sounds of television. Okay. It’s safe. He sighed and meandered lazily towards his room.

“Hey fucker, you kept her out pretty late don’t ya think?”

It’s not safe.

“Oh, yeah, well more like the other way around. She can talk, huh?” John scratched the back of his neck, his fingers gingerly working around a fresh mosquito bite.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Joey climbed up off of the couch and took his headphones off.

“Laying in the dark listening to music. That’s really emo of you.”

“Yeah.” Joey briskly walked past and went into his room, shutting the door behind him. John was left alone in the inky blackness. He let the evening roll around in his mind, including what had just happened. Was Joey really jealous? He had no reason to be, as far as he knew. Or did he know? No. He didn’t know anything. He’s clueless. There’s nothing to know. Who knows anything?

John felt a drop of sweat forming on his forehead. All this denial was stressing him, he thought. What denial, though? Honestly, there’s nothing to deny. He went out with a friend and had some dinner. They ate, they chatted awkwardly, they split the last breadstick, and then they parted ways. He hadn’t walked her to her car. The fact that they arrived separately was proof enough, wasn’t it? He didn’t take her out to the parking lot and press her against the side of her car or anything. There was no hug, not even a “friend hug.” No nervous laughter followed by awkward silence. No leaning in to–

“What the fuck are you doing, just standing around in the dark?” The lights in the living room clicked on, destroying John’s night vision. He snapped back to reality.

Joey stood in the hallway, staring incredulously.

“Sorry, I spaced out.” John rubbed his eyes, and tried to focus on something.

“Get your shoes on. Let’s grab some food, I’m fuckin’ starving.”

“I just got home from dinner! What time is it, like eleven?”

“At least ride over there with me, shit.”

“I’m gonna sit this one out, man.”

“Whatever.” Joey swept past him and headed out the door, leaving him alone again. It was way off base for him to pass up a chance to get out of the house. That was suspicious. He should be more careful.

Wait.

Why should he be more careful? It’s not like he’s under investigation for a murder. It was just dinner. There’s nothing going on. If he kept dwelling for so long on every dinner he had, he’d drive himself crazy. Of course, if he were crazy, maybe his life would be interesting enough to not have to dwell on dinner with a friend.

He finally got himself mobile, and headed towards his bedroom. A long, sleepness night of dwelling awaited him.

Read part three.

“I’m so glad we’re finally doing this.” She smiled brightly at him from across the restaurant table. He barely noticed. He had no idea why he was here. For days, his rendezvous with her had been the only thing on his mind. His work, his friends, his hobbies, they were all second to this, to her, to this meal. Now that he was finally here, he struggled to think of some way out.

It was the most uncomfortable situation he’d ever been in.

He squirmed awkwardly in his seat, contemplating what could’ve led him to think that he should even try to sit through an entire meal with her. She was the essence of purity in his eyes. She could do no wrong. She was perfect.

“My god, Joey was so jealous when I told him where we were going. This is like his favorite place.”

Unfortunately, the situation was not nearly so perfect.

He glanced up at her nervously, and stopped short of eye contact. “Oh? Heh. I really like this food here.” His hand clenched hard around the side of his chair. Who talks like that? He couldn’t figure out why he’d just said that. A thousand possibilities ran through his mind. He wondered if he’d remembered to arm the alarm on his car.

“Yeah, the food here is great. I really love the breadsticks. And they just keep bringing you more! If you just get the water, you can get out of here without paying anything!” She was so animated when she spoke. It was one of the most endearing things he’d ever noticed in any member of the opposite sex. He definitely hadn’t armed the alarm on his car, he realized. He knew at this very moment, someone was removing the stereo from his car. And there was nothing he could do about it. That thought process was suddenly interrupted by the scent of her perfume.

“The other day, oh god you’ll love this story, Joey and I were playing around on the internet…” Her voice trailed off into the nether parts of his mind. What was he doing? Why had he even arranged this little suaree? It’s not like she isn’t happy with her boyfriend. She manages to coax out at least three amusing anecdotes relating to him every twenty minutes. Each one made his stomach turn. He abhorred this ‘boyfriend.’ He loathed the man. He was the kind of boyfriend that made people wonder. Why would she stay with him? What do they possibly do at night besides fuck? Do they have anything in common?

His fingernails were almost irreversibly buried into the weakening fabric of the chair. It was then that he realized that she wasn’t even wearing perfume.

“Stereos in cars stop working if you disconnect them from the battery, right?”

She stared at him blankly for a moment.

“What?”

He had no idea why he had just asked her that. He cleared his throat. “If you um, if someone stole the radio from my car, it wouldn’t work if they hooked it up to another car, right?” He quickly took a sip of his drink.

“No, I don’t think it will. Why?”

“No reason.”

“What a funny thing to ask! Speaking of which, I was on the phone with Joey the other day, and this song came on the radio…”

He took another sip of his drink. It was going to be a long night.

Read part two.