2018 Bowman

Paul Bowman: Everything is OK

"I want your ass here on time!  Got that?"

He said it.  He did.  He never should have.  Two sentences that ruined everything.  Everything.

Of course he had been angry when he said that to her.  Did that excuse it?  No.

She was late again.  Still home in bed when he called her.  Partying too much the night before probably.  It was what?  The fifth time she had overslept? 

Corporate had called wanting the numbers:  yesterday’s sales, today’s deliveries, inventory levels.  Sorry sir, the bookkeeper hasn’t made it in yet.  Well, why not?  What kind of store are you running?  We want the store report by ten fifteen.  No exceptions. 

After the regional manager hung up he called Sandra. 

"You’re late again.  I want your ass here on time!  Got that?"

That was Wednesday.  By Friday she had filed a sexual harassment claim. 

Monday there was a meeting in Mr. Gilmore’s office.  His eyes were sympathetic.  His words were not.  She had a good case.  They would let him know. 

The following day he was terminated.

He did not go straight home.  He couldn’t.  He spent the day in the public library on Washington Street reading newspapers and magazines.  Not reading.  Looking at the pictures.  When four thirty came he knew it was time to go home.  He put the magazine that had the photo of the splendid house on the cover back on the rack and headed for the exit door.

The houses, buildings, side streets rolled by.  He drove like grandma.

He did not want to face her.  Tell her:  honey, I lost my job.

There would be sympathy from Jamie, but it would not last forever.  He would have to find something.  Could he list the store as a reference?  What if they said Yeah, we had to let him go.  He had a charge of sexual harassment brought against him. 

God.

Could he draw unemployment?  How long would that last?

He wanted to drive someplace else.  His mother’s.  She would understand.  Better than Jamie.

He had no job.  No job.  At least they were going to give him his accumulated vacation pay.  How long would that last?  By letting him go Sandra promised to drop the charge and the company saved the cost of legal representation.  That’s what had gone down.  Sacrifice the lamb.  And he was the lamb.  What had Gilmore said?  The problem, John, is that to be an effective assistant manager you also have to be a leader.  A leader inspires his people.  They would be eager to come in to work!  Someone like Sandra would be at the door before you opened up.

He gripped the steering hard and grimaced.  So the entire episode was his fault.  Not Sandra’s.  She could smoke weed, hang out in bars until closing time.  Brag in the break room about winning a pole dance contest.  That was ok!  Sure!  Why the hell not?  He had a family to support.  A wife and a son.  Who cared about that?  Who cared about all the twelve-hour days he put in?  Nobody. 

Lazy Sandra still had her job.  She was probably strutting around the store and smiling like she had accomplished something.  It wasn’t right.  She should have been the one fired.  Not him. 

A horn blared.  A car on his right swerved and braked to a skidding stop in the middle of the intersection.  Nearly t-boned!  Damn!  He had gone through a red light!  The other driver was furious.  Shit!  Now all he had to do was get his car wrecked and it be his fault.  Could it get any worse?

Jamie’s car was in the driveway.   That meant she had already picked up Ethan from the daycare.  John looked down at the personal items he had taken from his desk.  The desk that was no longer his desk.  He decided to leave them in the car.  It would be too humiliating to be seen holding them in his arms when he walked in.

God, he was a pathetic loser.

He pushed the front door open.  She was in the kitchen cooking spaghetti.  The odor of garlic bread in the air.  John knew she would be able to tell everything by just looking at him.  When he got to the kitchen she was facing the stove.  Good.

He drifted to the nursery.  The six-month old boy was standing in his playpen.  A smile came on the child’s face.  His arms went up.  A command.  Pick me up!  Pick me up!  Hold me, daddy.

He looked at his eager son.  The blonde-haired, chubby miracle that was his.

Yes.  Pick me up.  Hold me.  Everything is joyous because I am me and you are Daddy!

He lifted Ethan and held him to his chest.  He felt the squirming weight of him, the warmth of the body.  Saw the shine in the eyes, the open-mouth smile.  His son so new and so familiar.  So familiar.

Jamie came into the room.  Is everything is ok?  she asked.

It was so good, so necessary to hold him.  To feel the soft, new flesh.  To kiss Ethan’s head.

John?

His reply was a breath.  A whisper.

"Everything is ok."   DSS

 

Paul Bowman. of New Albany, Indiana, is a maintenance assistant, has sold lumber, been a maintenance director of a nursing home, and has stories published in literary journals. A version of this story was turned into a play, a monologue published by Monologue Bank.

Ouch, getting fired unjustly. What a feeling. To keep these good stories coming, donate here to Downstate Story. 

 

Comments

[Rebecca Lane]

Wow. I loved this story. Getting fired is so humiliating, but when it's not your fault. The low and then the high. He hadn't lost everything. Great story. Thanks