Really?, M.J. Garrett [urban books to read .txt] 📗

doesn't flush, and walks out without washing his hands?” The man had to be about 22 years old and right out of some college. His stupid spiked hair and cocky grin just looked at me as he bounced himself up and down, shaking himself dry. With his tie thrown over his shoulder, he peered at me with his chin resting on his shoulder, as if this was the proper moment for casual conversation or a class on bathroom etiquette.

With a blank look of disgust and anger, I peered into his very soul. Not saying a word, I turned to make my way out of the embarrassing moment and reached for the door.

“You got a tail.” He said to me.

Looking down at my feet, I see this line of toilet tissue stuck to my shoe. Pausing to embrace my rage, I pick my foot up to remove the tissue when the door swings open and catches my balding head on the crown, causing a small abrasion that begins to bleed. The man walking into the restroom looks at me and then walks past me without giving the slightest of apologies.

I make my way back to my cubicle, with toilet paper in tow and a cut on my head, I sit in my chair and wonder. “What the fuck is going on?” For years, I have made it through days at this job with no one even knowing my name; just another voiceless zombie on the elevator, another nobody getting the 25 year old bitch a cup of coffee, just another faceless zero who never made a splash at work or desired to. Now, today, I'm a potentially fired pervert, who doesn't flush or wash his hands, and who doesn't warrant an apology after being hit by a door.

In a matter of hours, I have managed to put my entire existence on the ropes. Sitting there, staring at the computer screen, I start to breath heavily. Closing my eyes and taking in the reflection of what I could never be, I opened my eyes and there she is.

With her arms folded across her midsection, I couldn't help but notice how her breast rested on her arms like a display of feminine dominance. Her long straight brown hair fell over the front of her shoulders and her blank stare peered into the very depths of my shallow soul. She wore a knee length brown wool skirt and her long legs were met by high heel pumps that displayed her perfect beautiful feet with pink nail polish.

I sat there and wondered if she could count the minutes it took for me to take in her appearance or if it only seemed like minutes to me. “So...” She squints her eyes and tilts her head to the side. “...you are Abraham?”

“Um...well...that's....uh....” I stuttered, of course, because I have no idea what this encounter is about. I could be getting fired. I could be a part of some investigation that involves some sort of elaborate money making scheme that I wasn't even aware of. I had no clue, but apparently, she knew who I was...and I didn't want to know me at this particular time.

“Yes....I am Abraham.” Tilting my head down toward the floor, hoping to help shield my final blow, I closed my eyes and braced for the worst.
“Hi, Abraham. My name is Detective Rosa and I'm sorry to inform you, but it seems that there was some sort of accident.” She looked at me with empty eyes that I knew she used so many times before. “It seems that your wife...”

“Ex-wife!” I interrupted her.

“Sorry, your ex-wife, was in an accident earlier this morning.”
I looked at her with the same blank stare that she had given me, the one I used to shield me from heartache and pain, as she finished with the news.

“She didn't make it. Your kids....”

Interrupting her I asked, “What about my kids?” I stood up and covered my mouth with my hand....knowing that this was the kind of meeting where they tell you that your life, as well as everything in it, would never be the same.

“Well, Abraham...your kids are fine. They are at the hospital now.”

Shocked by the discovery that life was going to change, I stood there....silent. With my hand over my mouth and my eyes tearing up....I stood there. I quickly glance around the office as heads from behind cubicles started to rise up and peer at me without any words to say. Detective Rosa, in all her splendor, stood there and placed her soft hand on my shoulder. I quickly grabbed my coat from the back of my chair and looked around for some sort of escape pod or trap door to quickly hide myself from the world. There is no hole, trap door, or escape pod. There is just the long walk down the same row of cubicles that have sheltered me from this very sort of disaster.

Toilet paper dragging behind, blood slowly dripping down my balding head, I start to make the walk that I loved to take every day on my way out of the office. As I start to leave the cubicle, I hear that stupid little bitch next to me lean from around the cubicle wall and ask me for a cup of coffee. Stopping for a second, I look back at her with tear filled eyes. I don't know what to say. I have nothing to say. I just stare for a second, when I hear an email message pop up on my computer screen. “I'm sorry, detective, but I need to check this.” I lean over and move the mouse and there it is. The message that everyone was talking about. Titled: You're Fired!


Chapter 3

Making my way home from the funeral, me and my hopeless blank face, I just stare out of the window. My daughters, calmly sitting in the backseat of my cheap clunker car, just stare out of the window as the world passes them by. Not knowing what to say to them, I ask them if they want to listen to the radio. The just shake their head, giving the universal sign of “no”.

I don't even know what to say to them. Twin girls. I haven't seen them in 6 years. After their mother and new boyfriend moved to California, it was hard for me to go and see them. I spoke with them on the phone, but they never really seemed interested. After a couple of years, the phone calls dropped off and I slowly faded to nonexistence. I can't even tell them apart.

They sat there, dressed in their little dresses. Their hair blonde, just like mine, and their faces were the mirror image of their mother, just sitting there quietly. Blank faces, quiet mouths, and motionless, these two girls just sat there as the thoughts of how to take care of little girls raced through my mind.

Making a list of the pros and cons, I conceded that the cons definitely outweighed the pros, but what was I to do. I had a one bedroom apartment, I had no idea where the school was at or how to even put the kids in school. I have no job. I have no friends. I don't even have neighbors that know I exist. I don't think the kids would appreciate a healthy diet of Ramen Noodles or canned ravioli. This was going to take the work of a miracle!

Upon entering my apartment, the girls seemed reluctant to even walk through the door. At the age of 10, these young girls were going to have to take care of me. I sat them on the couch and tried to explain the gravity of the situation. I explained that I was their father and I was going to do my best to make them happy. I tried to talk myself into this as well. I didn't know how to make them happy. I didn't even know how to make them smile. As babies, the goofy faces and idiotic noises made them smile and laugh, but this wasn't going to work on girls their age.

I showed them to the only bedroom I had and told them that they could decorate it any way that they saw fit, but it was going to be awhile before I could afford a bigger apartment where they could have their own room. They walked in and looked at the blank walls and piles of clothes. I promised them that I would also get them a dresser, but I didn't know how that was possible. Maybe they didn't see through my lie, but I think they could sense that the only grownups in the house were 10 years old.

I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to figure out what school they would attend or where the school was. I had no experience in these sort of things. I made them my specialty dinner Ramen Noodles with a touch of spaghetti sauce to liven up the dish, but all they did was poke at the food with their forks and blank faces.

Trying to make it easier, I leaned up and said, “Katie. Erin....Would you like for me to order something else? You can have whatever you want! Pizza, real spaghetti, Chinese....you name it...I'll get it.”

Both of them looked at each other and I noticed how beautiful they were when they smiled. It was like looking at their mother when we were kids. Their big blue eyes and their pretty thin pink lips looked at each other. Katie, the voice of both, looked at me and said, “What do we call you?” Shocked by the question, I told them that they could call me whatever they wanted.

They smiled at each other again and then looked at me with the most beautiful innocent smiles. “Mom called you 'Asshole'....”
“Really?” I looked at them for a second, not really knowing what to say. Shocked by their choice of names, I smiled and said, “Well, if Asshole is what you want to call me then Asshole it is.”

Both of them started to giggle as they covered their mouth to hide their smile, just like their mother used to do. Looking at each other for validation, they both looked at me laughing. I couldn't help but smile and laugh. Our first happy moment! Our first smiles in years! I leaned back in my chair and asked them if it was okay for the 'Asshole' to order some Chinese. They both smiled.

Erin, the quiet one, bashfully bowed her head a little and then looked at me, “Asshole...I don't like that word. Can I just call you 'Dad'?”

“Like I said before, you can call me whatever you like.” I then reached for the phone and hit the speed dial.


Chapter 4