Frankly Told: One Open Door
The cafe was slowly filling up with the working-class public. Ties and pantsuits brought this warm but tired air to the quaint establishment. Still, their conversation went on over their now cold coffee.
“… I don’t know man,” he brought his thoughts to a close. “ It is like every avenue is closing before me.”
His company nodded. It was a tough season in employment and watching the man she grew up seeing succeed now scrape the bottom of the barrel to survive caused her a tinge of pain. It made it worse, the feeling of worthlessness that came with acknowledging the different paths they took in life meant his networks couldn’t even help him.
“Anyway,” he conceded, “I think it’s time I move back home and try to sort this out where I know at least there is a roof over my head.”
On his face, a war could be read with how much his ego fought the thought.
“I really wish I could help more than just sitting here,” she said. “I don’t like that life is showing me empty hands where you need an opportunity.”
“It’s okay, I’m glad you showed up today even offering to buy me coffee.” he scoffed.
She smiled and he looked over to the insurgent group of people. Inside he was longing to trade places and faces with one of them. In that moment, he accepted in quiet desperation that the fatigue they wore on their faces probably felt better than his. He looked at their shoes, comparing them to whatever his toes curled in that were two more office runs from falling apart.
He watched them cluster up around tables in gleeful camaraderie. They loudly complained about their days and although it was only mid-week he couldn’t help but want that for himself. He watched them barely scroll the menu and his pocket jiggled to remind him of his countable choices in meals.
“Hey,” she called him out of his envy. “Maybe this is one of those incubation periods. I think you shouldn’t give up. What was it you would always tell me when I was in the same place?”
“… Closed mouths don’t get fed,” he finished the thought.
“Right,” she chirped up. “I know that out of all the shots you’ve taken there are some that have landed and maybe the backlog is the high rate of application for jobs with the reopening of offices and work capacity.”
He nodded and tried to take her words to heart. There wasn’t a single benefit to carrying pessimism the way he was. Of course, life wasn’t going to give him a direct pass. He chuckled at himself.
“You are right,” he exhaled, sitting up in his seat.
His lips spread into a small smile and held, through the rest of the conversation and goodbyes. She hopped into a taxi and he watched as it disappeared behind the block before the smile melted back to a frown and he turned and made his way to the bus stop.
The whole walk to the bus stop and the ride home, he confined himself to a fate not written and had already begun to do the calculations on the things he would sell and how he would pack his things and request his brother to come to pick him up. As the bus, scurried through the city to his destination, he watched the progression of buildings; from the skyscrapers to humble kiosks right outside his highrise estate.
As he got off, the old ladies waved hello amidst their conversation at the marketplace. He gave a bow and wave and continued walking into the estate. Silently whispering goodbye knowing he would be gone before the next day was awake. The little children were home from school and their noise echoed around the parking lot in whatever new game they had come up with. Inside, he wanted to join them but outside, he waved to their smiling faces and walked into his ground-floor apartment.
The apartment felt cold to him, almost as if it too did not want him there. He had asked for a two-week extension on the rent but he figured it wasn’t even going to be worth it. He began at the door with a broom, cleaning every square inch of the place. Might as well, he thought.
He worked himself to the bone to restore the space to its pristine shape. When his joints yelled for a break he tossed himself onto his couch to catch his breath before he began to pack. His eyes scanned the place in soft nostalgia for the memories made and how it would all come to an end as soon as he made that phone call he knew he had to make.
Picking up his phone, an email notification sat proudly on his lock screen. Kick me when I am down, he thought as he tapped it open. His eyes welled up with tears and the text opened fully. It read;
“Dear sir, congratulations…”
