Chapter 14
Brad sat in reeking solitude, hated, misunderstood, rejected. Condemned by his own guilt and self loathing, disappointed in the results of his actions. He looked around the room, richly decorated but bland, without seeing he knew how desolate the rest of the house looked, he felt abandonment quaking about him.
He hadn’t slept. He kept thinking of his wife walking out on him and the irony of his pain, as the thought of losing her became more concrete in his cluttered mind. He’d had it all planned out, but his plan wasn’t effective, nothing made sense, just like every other idea he’d had that had ended in disaster, it had felt right at the time. But how could hurting another be right? How could winding up alone be right? Derek and Anna promised to be there for him, but as always at the end of the day they had to go home, simply because it was ridiculous not to. All that would remain are their words; their promises, hovering like unfulfilled dreams, soundless, void, and distant. Even now he could hear Anna’s voice, like a whisper, like the wind suddenly forming words of human comprehension, so airy that for a moment he attributed them to something else.
“The lord’s hand is not shortened that it cannot save; nor his ear heavy, that it cannot hear.”
She’d told him that the night before; he was actually surprised he could remember it, considering he was slightly drunk, he couldn’t even remember the first one she’d told him, but it was strange how they seemed to foreshadow the next disaster or emotional crash, it might’ve even come in handy if he believed in that kind of stuff, but right now he didn’t know what he believed in.
Brad slumped against the pillow, sliding on his back until he laid supinely, the sheets askew beneath him. He looked up at the white ceiling, flawless and calming. He'd only failed each time he tried to fix it on his own… but he didn’t fail, look at all his accomplishments, his job, his house, his cars, his wife but did he? Aren’t they all subject to destruction, weren’t they all threatened by one man with nothing but the clothes on his back?
He gripped his hair and tugged at it, aggravated, confused, humiliated by his own insignificance, his failed efforts; his constant defeat.
“Aren’t I a joke?” he muttered, suddenly overcome with a strange kind of self loathing.
“I’m a big joke,” he snickered.
Gradually, his smile broadened into a face splitting grin and his eyes burned with tears of hysteria, and his chuckles bubbled over into unrestrained laughter.
“I am a ridiculous man!” he yelled, “utterly foolish!”
He turned on his side and curled himself like a fetus, his knees drawn up to his forehead, his arms hugging his chest and he laughed tearfully.
“Mr. Mason?”
Brad jumped and sat up instantly, his face red with embarrassment, “Camille!”
The tall, dazzling brunette stood in the doorway looking at him with wide eyes of concern and surprise. Her fingers gripping the folder she held against her chest tightly, a hint of discomfort on her round face, she looked like someone who was beginning to feel they were witnessing something they shouldn’t, yet held by a string of obligation and purpose to face it despite.
“Are you alright?”
Brad swung his legs over the bedside and tried to smooth his messy hair, feeling caught and devastatingly ridiculous.
“Yeah… um…” he turned and smiled up at her, his face strained, “my wife left me,” he announced.
Camille pursed her lips, her eyes suddenly sad and understanding yet strangely distant, “I’m sorry sir,” she walked up to him and placed the folder next to him, giving him a brief pat on the shoulder.
“We’ve missed you at the office, these are some documents you need to sign… of course I can hold them off until you’re up to it,” her demeanor and tone was cautious, Brad knew the awkward situation he was putting her in.
As he’d tried to explain to Mara on several occasions, Camille was made for an office, she was made for meetings and angry clients, her pin striped suit and her no nonsense stilettos was as much a part of her as her arms. All she was ever concerned about was business; she was always out of place in anything else that required emotional exertion, such as sympathy.
“Leave them, I’ll get it done.”
She hesitated, “do you uh… want to talk?”
Brad looked up at her and smiled, “it’s alright Cam, I’ve got it all under control okay.”
She nodded, “sure.”
She wasted no more valuable working hours with the crazed boss, not that Brad minded, she was just another reminder of how pathetic his life had become, she was just another one of those reliable yet expendable people he surrounded himself with. Ironically, the one thing he never could’ve gotten rid of was the very thing he did.
He sighed and fell back onto the bed with frown, it seemed the only thing he had left were Anna and her scripture verses. He got up after he gave himself a moment to come with an excuse or an idea that would cancel out his act of desperation, and went to his bureau and removed a box wedged on the side of his clothes. He opened it as he made his way back to his bed and removed a brand new bible, still in its protective plastic from the store. He unwrapped the leather bound book with the gold engraving on the face and turned it over in his hand it was supposed to be one of those easy to understand ones, Derek had given it to him more than a year ago. He opened it and flipped to the first book.
“Genesis chapter one,” he muttered, “in the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.”
Feeling ridiculous, he shut it and tossed it aside and laid back down, interlacing his fingers behind his head and staring up at the blank ceiling.