***
Out in the driveway the Honda refused to start. The motor squeaked for ten seconds while I turned the key, but then it died. I tried again. More squeaking. I hit the steering wheel in frustration and hurt my hand. Fuck!
About 15 minutes and 45 tries later it finally got into motion somehow.
I was late. I should have been home at around 6:30 pm and it was already a quarter to seven and I was still in the capital, one car in the slow-moving line of many. At a stoplight on 16th street my phone rang on the seat next to me. I picked it up and saw it was Holly. The traffic light turned green. I put the phone on the seat again and pressed the gas pedal. The phone kept ringing and I knew she was mad that I was late and I could only understand her. I had been both late and in a lousy mood every day that week and she was getting tired of it. My mind drifted and that’s probably why I didn't realize the other cars in front of me had stopped which made me crash right into the bumper of a large Chrysler pickup. Shit, shit and triple-shits!
We drove off to the side of the road to inspect the damage. A young redneck-looking man with a ponytail of bright red hair and freckles in his slightly wind-beaten face stepped out from the driver side. He was furious.
“Watch your fucking driving, man!”
I was too tired to do anything but give him my number and insurance information.
“Let's just get this over with okay. It’s a broken light. Not such a big deal.”
“You don't really decide what’s not a big deal, asshole.” The redneck glared at me.
Oh, God, I thought. Some lame troublemaker who wants to pick a fight. Which wasn’t what I needed on a day like this.
I handed him my insurance papers.
“I only take cash.”
“Cash? What do you mean?”
“You give me cash. 500 dollars should cover it.”
“500 dollars? For a broken light? I mean my insurance will take care of this, right?”
The man stroked his goatee and smiled.
“You pay me cash now. Otherwise you'll be in trouble.” He brushed aside his jacket to show me the handle of a gun. Jeeeeesus, I thought.
“But...but I don't have 500 dollars.” I nervously fiddled around inside my wallet. “I can give you a hundred bucks and we forget about the whole thing.”
“You deaf? I want 500 dollars. There’s an ATM over there.” The man pointed over to the brick building, a hundred-fifty meters away from us. I was suddenly aware that I was in a pretty shady area.
“Or else? You’re going to shoot me?” I looked around for people, but all I could see were cars flashing by, likely going home, something I wished desperately that I was too.
“You can try and find out. But it will be less painful for you to just give me the money.”
My head was throbbing. I hadn't had anything to eat since lunch. I was already late for home after a horrible day at work so getting robbed was just icing on the cake from hell. And I knew that if I obliged and walked over with this guy to the ATM it might not save me any pain. He might just take the money and shoot me - nothing was certain.
I studied him. He wore a worn leather jacket and loose hanging jeans, so he was definitely not working in an office. My guess was that he was in his upper twenties, but I had never been good at guessing people’s age so maybe he was physically (but obviously not mentally) gifted 12-year-old. Anyhow, I made the assessment that he wasn’t a completely desperate individual, so I didn’t think he would use his gun. It was a risky decision, but I was in a strange frame of mind.
“Well, then fuck you,” I said, turned around and ran to my car, opened the door and closed it with the speed of someone being chased by a bullet. I heard the man running towards me and suddenly he tugged at the car door shouting, “I’m going to fucking kill you!” and when I put the car in drive, he took the butt of the gun and broke my passenger window. Glass shattered on the car seat. I pushed the gas hard and drove off, leaving the redneck standing there among his own profanities.
I made it! I thought, my pulse racing. I quickly went from a state of shock to a feeling of gratitude. It was a close escape. The guy could easily just have shot me instead and I was insanely lucky that my gamble had paid off.
I reached our house, a white 60s townhouse in Arlington, Virginia (that needed quite some work on it which I never had the time nor the money for) at 7:30 pm after wrestling with traffic for a while. I was exhausted and in dire need of a drink.
I opened the door and mumbled “Hello.”
Not a sound. I moved through the hall to the kitchen table and put down my laptop bag. I didn't expect the teenagers to be in, they rarely were, but my wife Holly used to be and I could have needed a hug right about then.
The house was pitch dark. Worrying thoughts raced through my head, but after turning on the lights I found a note on the kitchen table that read: “Late again? I didn't feel like cooking today so I took the kids out to Red Lobster. If you read this before seven you can join us, otherwise there’s that meat casserole we had yesterday in the fridge.”
Fuck. That casserole tasted like mashed-up sewage rat and I knew I couldn’t force that down one more time, even if it was chased by a pint of beer. I needed some comfort food to make up for the shitty day I’d had. A burger or an oily pizza. And it was too late to come waltzing down to Red Lobster and face Holly who probably was angry enough for her face to be the Red Lobster. So instead I decided to head down to Tiffany Tavern, one of the Irish pubs in Old town, Alexandria. I knew I might get shit for it later, but I think the episode with the gun would explain my slightly irresponsible behavior.
The Tavern was packed so I took a seat by the bar next to a horse-faced girl with freckles and glasses, the result of an unfortunate gene-pool lottery draw. She was drinking a pint of Guinness and had beer-froth on her upper lip. Her glasses were so thick I figured she probably wouldn't need to drink to get drunk. She didn't pay me much attention though. Good.
When no one was looking I pulled my elbow up and managed to sniff under my arm. Yowza! Something must have died in there. But at that low point I couldn't really have cared less. I needed food, not company.
The bartender who was a young and sedated-looking man gave me a look and said:
“Eatin' or drinkin'?”
“Both. Can I have a cheeseburger and a bottle of Bud, please?”
He scribbled my order down on his notepad and talked to the other bartender who nodded and went back inside the kitchen. The Tavern has the best cheeseburgers in town if you ask me and since I was unbelievably hungry, I was salivating just thinking about sinking my teeth into one. I thought about calling Holly, but I couldn’t take feeling like any more of a disappointment and could definitely not deal with it before I had at least two beers inside my vest, so I sent her a text telling her I’m sorry I’m late, that I had a rough day at work and was going to get a burger.
She was pissed enough not to reply.
Then I just sat there and listened to the murmur of people talking and thought about the events of that horrible day. The promotion Mary Pedersen stole right out of my hand, my humiliation in our meeting, me falling asleep at work after clicking the Viagra e-mail, getting threatened by a guy with a gun and finally getting home so late Holly couldn’t bother with staying around. It was a whole bucketful of shit.
But soon a bottle of ice-cold Bud was placed in front of me and the first sip made me feel somewhat better, like the world wasn’t about to end any minute. I let the frothy liquid roll down my throat. It was my simple treat to myself. A Bud.
I watched a man in a suit sit down next to me. He looked flustered. He had fair skin and light brown hair and his cheeks were pink. He had had a rough day too, I’d bet that in a second. He was younger than me, hard to say how much, but my guess was ten years. He put his suitcase on the floor and started typing on his iPhone with a distraught look on his face. When he was finished typing and had tucked the device inside his jacket pocket, I decided to start a co
nversation with the vague hope that someone else’s shitty day might put more perspective into mine.
“Rough day?”
He looked up, obviously surprised that someone was talking to him. “You can say that. I was just fired from my job.”
“Fired? Ouch! I thought I had had a bad day who missed out on a promotion and almost got shot.” I chuckled in disbelief.
“Shot? Wow. Well that sucks too. What do you mean by almost?”
“I don’t know how really, but I managed to get away. Maybe my shitty day made me desperate to try. It was stupid really, I knew the guy had a gun, but somehow I didn’t think he would use it. But he smashed my window.
“Thought I saw a Honda outside with a smashed window.”
“Yup. That’s mine. Another spoonful of shit in my jar of life. So how did you get fired?”
“I was congressman Dirk Jensen’s assistant. But today I handed him the wrong papers before an important hearing and since he’s such a dickforbrains, he messed up big time and looked like the complete idiot he is. It didn’t take him long to tell me to pack my bags.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, but maybe it was for the best. I kind of hated my job. He’s such an asshole I can’t even begin to describe it.”
I looked over at Richard who eyed his newly received pint liked it contained the secret to his existence. I understood how he felt.
“Wow. That sucks. So what’s your plan?”
“No idea. Move back home? Clean the streets?” Richard had a distant look on his face. He was officially in the basement mentally.
“You got any family?”
“Nah, I guess that’s a good thing in times like this. I’m single. And this is not going to improve things.”
I didn’t know what to say so I nodded my head in respect to the guy with the even more crappy situation. At least I had a job and a family who loved me. Maybe I shouldn’t complain so much? I thought for a second.
“Richard.” The guy stretched out his hand.
“Joe.” We shook hands.
“Life sucks sometimes, huh,” he said, unprovoked.
“You bet.” I lifted my bottle and we clinked our glassware.
At about this time my fat burger with a thick layer of Provolone cheese and a plate filled with hand cut fries arrived. Richard quickly looked up to the bartender and said, “I'll have exactly what he's having.”
He then proceeded to tell me how it was to work for Dirk Jensen. I had a hard time believing half of it, but Richard seemed sincere. Dirk Jensen wasn’t though. He was an old, raging, sex-aholic with a weakness for prostitutes and cocaine. Richard said he contemplated writing a book about his crazy ex-employer, but he was afraid Dirk would send one of his gorilla bodyguards after him. He had heard stories about people in Dirk’s presence suddenly disappearing. Disappearing underground.
I ate my burger and listened intently to his stories. I realized again that some people lived more exciting lives than me and that Richard was one of them. But exciting wasn’t always better, because now he was fired.
He turned to me after we both had finished our burgers and had reached beer number three or four and said, “Sorry, I’ve been talking this whole time. What about you?”
I laughed and said, “Well your stories are much more interesting so that’s fine. I have nothing to measure up against that.”
“You’re selling yourself short. You were almost shot at and your promotion got stolen from your hands. Tell me about that.”
So I did. I told Richard about Mary Pedersen and the people I worked with. How much I hated going there and never getting anywhere.
We had another beer. And another. And a few hours later we were pretty drunk.
At that time I got a message from Holly. I realized I had to get home and I knew I shouldn’t drive in the state I was in, but that was the exact problem with the state I was in, I wasn’t sober enough to make the right decision.
“Can I go with you?” Richard slurred.
“Sure, where do I drop you off?”
“I live in Bedford. I hope it’s not too much trouble.”
“No, no problem at all.” It was of course a bit inconvenient to have to drive all the way over there to drop Richard off, but he was a nice guy who had lost his job to a complete asshole and I didn’t want to let him down.
We drove off and I quickly noticed how shaky my vision was. I started worrying whether I was really going to get home safely. Richard had gone silent, but I could sense him giving me looks from time to time. I thought he was checking on me and my handling of the steering wheel and I couldn’t blame him. I was tired enough to pass out.
“Take a left here,” he said of all sudden.
“Roger that,” I said and made the left turn. But what I didn’t expect was a truck coming against me the other way and I had made my turn too wide and quickly had to divert from the imminent crash which led me half-flying into the woods, where we rolled straight into a tree, almost cutting the front of the car in half.
Luckily, we both had seat belts on and we didn’t get more than an airbag in our faces and a slight pain in our necks. To add to the massive shock of hitting a tree.
After coming to terms with what had just happened, I straightened up in my seat and rubbed my eyes. I looked over at Richard who had his eyes closed. Had something happened to him? I unhooked my seatbelt, leaned over, grabbed his shoulder and said, “Richard? Richard?”
He came to life and looked at me. We were very close at this point, because I had to lean in to check on him. And that’s when it happened. In the daze of everything and as the final treat on my smorgasbord of a day, Richard tried to kiss me.
Our lips touched briefly before I withdrew.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I glared at Richard who suddenly looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him.
“Uhhh...I thought you were into me. You’ve been giving me looks all night, you bought me a beer, you started the conversation.”
Richard’s face was crimson. Somewhere deep down I felt for him and his embarrassment.
“Sorry man,” I said, rather firmly considering the situation, “but I’m not driving on that side of the road. Plus I’m married to a woman I love. I’m sorry if I gave some other idea.”
“I really feel like shit now,” Richard said, “can we forget about this and go home?”
That second it hit me that driving home would be difficult. I had only half a car and we were in the middle of nowhere.
“I think I’ll have to call Holly.” I said, wanting the earth to swallow me too.
Holly was already furious with me, but I didn’t know what the hell to do. And her presence brought some kind of comfort despite her anger. It always did. Holly was “home”.
She was of course furious, shocked, worried, and pretty much every other emotion in that direction when she heard I had been in an accident, that it happened on the way to Bedford and that I needed her to pick me up in the woods.
After telling me how incredibly stupid I am, she hung up on me. Not the kind of sympathy I’d hoped for, but not a completely unexpected reaction either.
The wait with Richard in the car was excruciatingly awkward, the drive with Richard and Holly back to Bedford was the longest ride in my life and the drive back home with Holly early in the morning had me considering suicide.
I hardly have to tell you that I spent the night on the coach.
When I woke up, morning light was pouring into the living room and I realized I was fully clothed and my head was breaking apart like pie crust.
I rose from the couch and noticed I was already half-an-hour late for work. I stepped inside the kitchen and saw to my surprise a young African-American man standing there, holding the refrigerator door and sucking from a cart of orange juice. He wore black silk underwear with skulls and a burgundy t-shirt.
“Hi,” I said, not sure how to react.
He turned around and I must say he looked pretty relaxed
for a guy I'd never seen before, rummaging around in my house. He spilled a few drops of juice on his chest and wiped them away with his finger.
“Yo.” He had a really deep voice for being someone not yet in his twenties.
“Sorry to be rude, but who are you and what exactly are you doing in my refrigerator?” I hoped this came out authoritative and stern, but I suspected I was too hungover for that kind of voice.
“Ahh, you must be Jane's father. I'm D.”
“D? Like in the letter D or D-e-e?”
“I'm Derrick. My homies call me D.”
I didn’t know if Derrick meant that I was a “homie”, but that he mentioned me in terms of being Jane’s father worried me.
“Okay. So, why you’re not in school?”
“Our teacher’s sick today so me and Jane are staying in. Chillin’. I just got so damn thirsty.”
“So you’re classmates?”
“Yeah.” D smiled like he knew something I didn’t. Which I bet he did.
“Where’s Jane?”
“She’s upstairs. She asked me to bring her a coke.”
A coke at 9:30 in the morning? My respect for my children was fading fast.
“You can tell her she’s not allowed to drink soft drinks for breakfast.”
“Aight. I understand. Teeth and sugar and all that, right?”
“I’m going to take a shower and get ready for work now, Derrick, but I wouldn’t mind you two doing something useful with your day off. Studying or sports or whatever you kids do.”
Derrick smiled at me again. He probably thought it was a joke. “Yeah,” he said and chuckled, “see you later Joe.”
It made me sad that Holly had already gone to work without leaving a note or anything. My guess was that she was still livid with me. I had been out too long, driven drunk and trashed our second car. This meant that I had no simple means of transportation when it came to getting to work.
Could I really take the bus? I thought to myself. But I never took the bus! And a taxi would be very expensive. Especially considering I might soon be unemployed.
After a few minutes of deliberating I decided to ask our annoying neighbor Larry if I could borrow his car. Larry was a stay-at-home dad who ran some online business which allowed him to buy new stuff all the time. There were always boxes going in and out of their house, but nobody asked him how or why.
I showered and got dressed quickly and went over to ring the bell at Larry’s.
It took him a while to open the door and when he finally did, I could see he still had his underpants on (the second person I met in his underpants that day). Only. And not boxers, but briefs. Something that looked like pubic hair was sticking out on the front. I got the feeling my neighbor might be a werewolf. A box-carrying werewolf.
“Oh. Hi Joe,” he said, clearly surprised to find me standing on his doorstep at almost ten in the morning.
“Hi Larry, I’m sorry to disturb, but my car broke down and I need to get to work somehow. It would really mean a lot to me if I could borrow one of your cars.”
I saw no point in beating around the bush, because Larry was the master of uncomfortable silences, the master of creating them.
“What happened to it?”
I didn’t know what to say so I told him the truth, “I drove it into a tree.”
One second later I realized that this would likely decrease my chances of borrowing one of his cars.
“Oh.” Larry said again.
“I’ll be gentle.” I said and cracked an uncomfortable smile.
“You want it now?” Larry said, still a bit dazed.
“Yes, please.”
“You can take the Chevy. I don’t care if you smash that son-of-a-bitch into a tree. You might actually even do me a favor. Let me fetch the keys for you.”
Oh God. The Chevy was a real piece of shit. It was full of rust and I hadn’t seen Larry drive the thing in a long, long time. And it would be bothersome if somebody saw me park the monstrosity on the company driveway. I didn’t need another dent to my dignity.
Larry came back to the door, wearing shorts and a t-shirt this time, and handed me the keys, “Just let me move my Lexus, so you can get out.”
Then I watched him move his goddamn brand new Lexus from the driveway to the curb which revealed the ugly baby blue, rust-bucket duckling in front of the garage.
“You drive stick, right?” Larry said.
“Yes.” I said, in a resigned voice.
The engine kicked to life after a few turns of the key and I couldn’t believe my eyes when I rolled down the driveway in Larry’s infamous Chevy. An abomination of a car. I waved to Larry and set off for the highway, feeling like the loser I was.
It didn’t move fast, but at least it got me forwards. After 40 minutes of driving in shame and quite a few worrying clonk sounds, I parked the darn thing as far away as I could on the company parking lot.
I was late. In fact, very very late and I hadn’t had notified anyone. My hope was that no one had noticed or at least cared. After all, I felt more dispensable than paper napkin.
But I should probably not have been surprised to find more obstacles lying in my path, since this was after all my own private hell. Sleep-around Mary was standing in the elevator when I entered it. She looked like a breath mint in her pastel green colored business suit.
“Joe! I didn’t expect to see you in today.”
“Hi Mary, well, I had a headache in the morning, a nasty one, but I’m better now.”
This was only half a lie, I had had a nasty headache in the morning, but I wasn’t any better. Not by a mile.
“You should have called or texted me. We had the team meeting today you know and I had expected you to come prepared.”
Team meeting? Jesus christ, I had no idea about a team meeting.
“Sorry Mary.” I didn’t know what else to say. I was obviously a disappointment to her. And everyone else too.
Mary looked at me like I was an idiot, “I need you to send your report to me. I want everyone to give a status update on what they’re working on. Leads and so on. It’s important that we have these meetings to get maximum transparency. And I expect everyone to take them seriously.”
“I will. I’ll type it up as soon as I’m by my computer.”
But Mary didn’t seem to listen, “I’m sorry Joe but I have to give you a warning for this. Headache or not, you looked really careless and unprofessional today and I can’t allow such behavior in my team. And I’m sad to hear you haven’t even finished your report although I asked you to.”
A warning? But I never in my life got a warning for anything! I wanted to blubber out like a baby. Anger had turned into self-pity.
“Okay. I won’t disappoint you from now on,” is what I sad after what felt like an eternity.
The elevator door opened and Mary ended the conversation: “I hope not. We’ll talk later, Joe.”
“Okay, see you Mary.”
Then she walked over to her own magnificent office, while I stepped on the walk of shame towards my desk.
I got judging stares from everyone, but not one single “hi” or “how are you”. I sat down at my desk and turned on my computer and proceeded to weed through my inbox.
Then I wrote my uninspiring report to Mary. I had nothing really positive to tell her. There were some leads I was following up on, but nothing more than that. I was probably going to get fired and I had no idea what to do when that happened. I was going to let down myself and my family. I was going to become a shell of a shell.
I went to the bathroom, looked at myself in the mirror and cried. And I never cry.
I sat down at my desk again but couldn’t get anything done. I was lethargic. They could have put a plant on my chair and it would have been more useful, at least passing around oxygen instead of taking it.
When I drove home in the Larry’s old Chevy I realized my pain wasn’t going to end anytime soon. I had dinner with James the Happy Camper to loo
k forward to. My life officially sucked more than an ant-eater.
Holly was trying out different evening wear when I entered the bedroom.
“Hi,” I said gently, leaning on the door frame.
“Hi, you better shower or we’re going to be late.”
“You still angry?”
“Until you show a smile on your face or at least try to be more positive about things, yes. You look like you want to die.”
“Uhuh.” I said, my intelligence shining through like a diamond.
“Is that all you can say? Mumble shit like a caveman? What’s happening to you?”
“Work.” I said.
“Work? What’s new at work? Sometimes it’s okay and sometimes it’s crap. I thought that was the usual ebb and flow?” Holly wasn’t going to give me a break and she was right to.
“They gave Mary Pedersen the job I thought I was up for.”
“You still think you had a shot at that job? I thought your numbers were down and I haven’t seen you leave the house with a smile in ages? I don’t even understand why you’re still there to be honest. Why don’t you send out your CV, talk to some people? Maybe James can help you?”
“It’s not that easy. You know how hard it is to find a job these days.”
“But Joe, seriously, that’s how it always is and always has been. It’s not harder to find a job now than it was five years ago. And you need change! I’d rather we sell the house and try to cut down some expenses than you walking around like the Grim Reaper. I hate to see you like that.”
This is why I love my Holly. No matter how angry she is, she cares about me and she knows what I need to hear to get out of my funk.
“You’d seriously let us downgrade our living a bit so I could be happier at work?”
Holly gave me a look that I had to be joking, “Wouldn’t you do the same thing to me?”
“Of course. I’d do anything for you, you know that.”
“Then that’s what we should do then. Now I need you to wipe that depressed look on your face and cheer up. You’ll find a better job, you just to have a better attitude about things.”
I looked at her stunned. She had taken charge where I had left the pitch. She was one amazing woman and I was proud to call her mine.
“Ai-ai, captain!” I said and made a salute.
“And let’s win those board game rounds tonight, okay? I hate to see James’s winning grin again.”
That was when I went up to her and kissed her. She kissed me back and I held her tight and then guess what else happened? The man in my pants awoke and I pulled Holly out of the dress she was wearing and we ended up making love on the bed like newlyweds.
There was no Viagra involved. Just love.
Afterwards I surprisingly felt like a man again. Yes, I even felt like it was okay to be dining with James and his wife. And it didn’t strike me as impossible to find a new job. My confidence was not what it had been once, but at least there was something there. And all thanks to my lovely Holly.
We went over to James’ house in Holly’s car and I was feeling strangely excited all of a sudden, like I could turn my wreck of a career around and it might not even require money falling from the sky. Or magic.
It was noticeable to everyone that something was different about me that evening over at James’ house. I was making jokes, being more sociable than usual and Holly told me my eyes looked different, they were more vibrant and energetic - similar to the guy she had fallen in love with and not the two dead stones they had appeared as for a long time.
Was it the sex? Was that how badly the lack of it had affected me? Coupled with the broken confidence in my manhood and the nightmarish situation at work, maybe they had all served as ingredients in the cocktail that had brought me down to my knees. I put my hand on Holly’s thigh and smiled at her. She was still my rock. After all these years.
“How are things at work?” asked James’ wife Rebecca. James had apparently not told her they were beyond rescue.
“Oh, I don’t know. I kind of hate the place. I’m going to start looking around.”
“It’s that bad, huh?” Rebecca gave me a pitiful look. She was a kind-hearted woman and the perfect wife for James. Some couples just had it all. Not to say that Holly and I were all bad, because if there was anything not perfect about us, it was all me.
I looked at Rebecca with as much of a sincere face as I could muster and said, “It’s been bad for a long time.”
“Why don’t you ask around over where you work, James?” she said and turned to her husband, “with your network there’s bound to be something out there.”
“Damn right I will,” said James. “We’ll get you out of that place. I didn’t know you were that miserable.”
“Thanks James,” I said, feeling elated that he finally got the idea. There was hope. Somewhere over the rainbow there was a place without stinky office ladders, Mary Pedersen’s basketball ass and IT departments that smelled of blue cheese. There must be.
I won the scrabble game that night and actually enjoyed it. Maybe it was my refreshed attitude. Maybe it was just the winning. I mean, everything is fun if you win, right?
During the night I felt this electrical current between Holly and I that I hadn’t felt in ages. It was odd. After all my fuck-ups, my complaining, my lame commitment to our sex life - she still believe in me and still wanted me and her faith somehow changed everything. It was like nothing else I had ever experienced before. I had been deep down in the gutter and suddenly I was soaring like some kind of (slightly overweight) bird.
Life, huh?
We actually ended up having lots of fun with the James and Rebecca. We drank a little too much, talked a lot, laughed a lot and ended up having a better time than I can remember us ever sharing with them before.
When we got home we were both drunk and laughing and kissing and behaving much like teenagers in love. We had sex again and despite the alcohol numbing the experience somewhat, it was still great.
So what happened next? Well, you know, things changed.
James actually helped me find a new job and his good word probably had a great deal to do with me getting it. Within a few painful weeks I got to walk inside Mary Pedersen’s office and put my resignation paper on her desk. She had a look of shock on her face that I will never forget. She asked me if I would reconsider, because my numbers were looking up again by then, but I told her, “Mary, this is the end of the road for me. And after eight years all I can tell you is: good luck.” Then I left her office.
With my new paycheck I managed to get a new car, well not exactly new, but new for me. And having less of a commute to work makes it easier for me to spend more time with my family. I have even gotten to know “D”, who has become my daughter Jane’s boyfriend and I think my baby girl is really happy that we actually get along pretty well.
The reason I’m in a happier place now is that I’ve stopped being such a pessimist. Things are not perfect, I guess they never will be, but I have a job I kind of like, Holly and I have rekindled our love, I have a stronger connection to my kids and now I don’t want to throw up every time I have lunch with James.
Not too shabby, right?
My more positive outlook of life has also made sure that Richard and I stay in contact. What happened in the car is long forgotten and we have managed to build a solid friendship from our chance encounter. He has met someone and seems more comfortable in his own skin and I think him not working for Dirk Jensen might have something to do with it too. Lesson: we shouldn’t let assholes like Mary Pedersen and Dirk Jensen rule our lives. We ought to be in charge.
That’s one thing I learned during the 48 hours I call the worst/best in my life. Another thing I picked up is that misery and happiness can be very close and that love can be the deciding factor in which one of them you end up in.
I feel I’m in the happiness region right now. I hope you are too.
THE END.