Adds Up

(Painting by Michael Lang “Containing Chaos”) 

The alarm clock screeches loud, waking Michael from the sleep of death as he stretches his long arms to smash the snooze button, to not wake his comatose girlfriend. He detaches the phone from the charger hooked into the wall and rolls over onto his back, permanently turning off the alarm and staring at the time: 6:23 AM. Michael, now frantic with stress to not be late for ANOTHER 7 AM shift, jumps from bed and silently maneuvers through the mess that is called a bedroom. Once in the kitchen, he tosses out yesterdays old coffee, rinses out the pot and pours another four ounces of water. He empties yesterdays contents from his to-go coffee mug and rinses that out too. He opens the refrigerator to pull out the Folgers Colombian mix he swears by- empty. ‘Figures’, he thinks. Checks the time again:  6:27 AM. ‘What the hell is up with the time this morning?’ Michael rushes to his bathroom and stares at himself in the mirror. The lack of sleep has made the skin under his eyes darker than usual. He frowns at the crows feet forming on each side of his eyes. His eyes look redder and contain more red veins. What the hell. The alarm clock blares out loudly: 6:30 AM. 

Michael is at his desk/cubicle typing as fast as can, albeit making constant mistakes. He looks up at the weary and nervous family of four that sits across from him, hoping all goes well as the fate of where they call home next rests in Michael’s hands. He feels more tired and uncomfortable now that the morning is settling in. The to-go coffee mug of cold water just doesn’t do the same trick as that caffeine pop. He knows that he and them sit in two different positions in life. He’s a lowly intern trying to show his worth; they are in belief he is in a position of power that can change their life fortune. And there it is. Their profile shows that they aren’t eligible. The father and mother were arrested for criminal activity within the last 3 years and that will hold them out for assistance for another 2 years, at least. With limited knowledge and emotional comfort to explain a denial for housing assistance, he dives right in.

Later on, Michael sits in his boss’s office knowing what this meeting is about. Helen works intently, leaving Michael to feel as if she has even forgotten that he sits just a foot or so away from her. She picks up the phone and makes a phone call. Michael looks around and offers a nonverbal cue, ‘I could be at my desk doing the same thing’. Helen quickly hangs up and gives a portion of her valued attention to Michael. Here he learned that he made a grave misstep when having to break the heart and increase the all-to-familiar state of despair for the desperate family of four: he apologized. It was the policy of the organization not to offer an apology, because nothing was done wrong. He had heard one time too many that he was too forgiving, too nice, put too much heart into it the people would sense it and take advantage. To Michael, it was simple, homelessness was nothing to keep it moving, rather, it deserved a moment of compassion and some sort of understanding for both parts. He also learned what he knew: attendance was grave. Showing up at 7:00 am on the nose was late. He had to be at work ready to work at 7:00 am. He never quite agreed, but agreed nevertheless.

The lunch room was supposed to be the best part of his day. This is where I can eat my lunch, breathe, and catch a few minutes of sleep. Michael checked the fridge and that slow upward creeping, alarming river of panic set in: I forgot my lunch when I was rushing for work. As Michael leaves the lunch room to stand outside on the patio for a breather, he checks his phone to see a timely message from his love: Have a good day babe! I love you and will check in with you later. P.S. You forgot your lunch! Don’t worry, now you have something for tomorrow 🙂 

Michael, now donning black slacks, white iron pressed-buttoned up shirt, a black vest and tie, stands behind his bar at the fine dining establishment he works at part-time in addition to his internship, and polishes glasses and silverware. This moment in a day full of perturbation, is a nice break from the world. Here, he can effortlessly do a menial task and allow his mind to drift to inner passion and possibly reset itself to tolerate the evening ahead. This time allows him to breathe and think some things over whereas the entire morning and afternoon, he stays in his head trying to get ahead in his internship but just can’t seem to hit the right buttons with management, although his coworkers enjoy him very much. Michael’s manager turns the corner and watches Michael work silently. She engages him in conversation and surprises him with a quick meal for his hard work and dedication, tonight’s dinner special: spicy arrabiata w/ medium well flank steak. Yum.

The night starts off slow, as it is projected to be. There are no events taking place in the casino, according to the casino ledger, so Michael banks on letting the night slide by and allow him to end the week as smoothly as can. He has done some thing right, but can’t help but harp on the things that haven’t gone the way he would have liked, dread on the things he wishes he could take back or redo- then it happens. He watches a crowd of madness descend down the stairs and up to the hostess booth. His manager rushes from the booth and directs the food servers and bussers to create large tables for the large parties coming their way. Turns out upper management forgot to include in the ledger a workers retreat from out-of-town for his restaurant’s ledger. The staff was down to minimal, because of the projected crowd, and now everyone had to wake up and prepare for what was about to happen.

For the next four and a half hours, large parties and small groups entered the restaurant, ate at a leisurely pace and marveled at the mesmerizing and enthralling paintings that hung around. The staff worked hard and tried to pick their mood up, as there was nothing worse than being caught off guard in the restaurant industry. Low staff, orders still needing to be filled, food and alcohol running out, created an uneasy tension between the staff at a time when swords needed to be put away. Michael works the bar and works it hard. He moves as fast as can, impressively turning his mind off and not thinking about it. He knows that if you work yourself up and pay this situation thought, then you end up sending the wrong vibe to the crowd and it gets in the way of the work and most importantly: the money. Michael’s bar clears up a bit and rushes to wipe it down with his diluted bleach rag, when the very upper management who “conveniently” forgot to include the incoming retreat on the restaurants’ business ledger, jump in front of the waiting guests and take their seats. They stare at Michael and non-verbally demand menus and exude an elitist aura. The food and beverage manager refuses to peel his eyes from Michael and makes a quip about a 5 O’Clock Shadow and that it is not to his liking. The managers make stale comments regarding the menu, as one by one decide on the same thing: tonight’s special. After awhile their food arrives and the management team can’t help but complain about wait time, causing Michael to remark it is a surprisingly busy evening and the kitchen is working as hard as they. This doesn’t sit well. The team eats in silence, and one by one, they finish and get up to leave. The food and beverage manager, stuck with the bill, pays and offers the golden statement of the evening I’ll come back and tip you later, you did an okay job. At this moment, Michael felt the red rush his chest, his face, his eyes, his thoughts- the audacity of privilege to look down on him- not taking into account of how hard he works and what his day-to-day life is like. All he could do was nod and keep it moving, the manager walked away with a triumphant shuffle. Michael couldn’t stand the thought of losing.

Michael walks to his car in silence. He can’t help it. His mind is flushed. Their isn’t anything there. Going home is all he can stand to do. It’s like he could leave his keys in the door and take off running; running from what he feels are unfair circumstances, running from the pressure and standards he puts on himself, running from the problems he brings to himself, running from the societal pressures of what success is supposed to mean and those who try to wield their false power, running from a life he didn’t think he would ever have to live.. But he opens his car door, turns the car on, and drives off to his sanctuary at least.

Michael parks in his parking spot at home. It dawns on him he hasn’t checked his phone since lunch. Would be hard to believe, but he wanted to stay away from what he thought is noise. Getting bad news in his emails from the jobs he applies to, reading the wretched news and the melancholy that welcomes him, just didn’t seem all that important on this day. He sees he has missed a gang of text messages from his girlfriend. One after another, expressing her love to him and to keep his head up. He smiles, the first time today he thinks.

Michael walks into his home and is engulfed with a smell he has been missing since the morning, home. To better put it, dinner. He looks at the time and it’s 11:45 PM. His girlfriend whips around the corner.

“Sit down babe. I thought you’d be out at this time, cause you usually are so I made dinner,” she says with excitement bursting from every ounce of her being. Michael takes a seat and is speechless.

“Thanks babe. What did you make?” he asks as he gets comfortable. His girlfriend comes from the kitchen holding a plate that makes Michael smile, laugh, and practically want to cry. She sets it down in front of him and they embrace. His girlfriend took the night off from her hosting position to stay home and make Michael comfortable. She believes that he forgets to treat himself, so she wants to show him he deserves someone to help lessen his load.

“Here is my money from tonight,” Michael says as he hands her a wad of cash.

“Cool! We’re so close to our twenty thousand dollar mark,” she says feverishly. She walks off to add the money to their collection to deposit.

Michael digs into his plate and notices the cold, sweating beer and can’t help, but feel like the day was worth it. From the moment he woke up, he had felt the stress building and adding up inside of him. He thought the pressure was going to make him collapse. He thought moment after moment after moment, when do I get a break? He realized in this moment what was really adding up, was how much he just wanted to get home to his best friend and their home and cherish each other and the hard work they are putting in now to set up themselves to have the life they want to live. He realized the work is going to be hard and so is the situations that are going to come his way, but it all adds up to coming home to peace and a happy home that allows him to reset and do it all over again.

 

*Please enjoy. I am jumping back into writing short stories in preparation for writing my first novel. I am kicking off the rust as I go. Leave a comment and let me know what you think!