I blasted straight up through the clouds, punching that little grinning cherub on the 9th before rocketing past cloud 10, 11, 15, 37, 100.
I found another winning lotto ticket after losing the first in a drunken blur. Then, sober and aware, I found the first ticket, crumpled in a pocket.
I can see straight and think in any direction I choose. This morning I looked at the mirror, smiled, and realized I wasn’t staring at a stranger but looking at a friend.
I stepped out of my mind, out of my house and strangers walked up to me, asking about my shirt, my tattoos, my hat. The mask hid my smile but my crows feet must have been tap dancing around my shimmering disco ball eyes.
I have a full deck. I am kind, I am genuine, I am determined, I am empathetic, I love and want to be loved. I have bad cards too, but I’ve got a royal flush and I’m all in.
I am grateful, bowing to that mystical, cosmic energy. On my knees, not from defeat but in recognition and relief of victory.
She wore the band t-shirt I gave her before COVID cancelled the concert. I wore the band shirt she gave me the night before I wouldn’t see her for weeks after.
We met and I’m just glad I got to see her. I’m glad she got to see me. I’m glad I’m starting to see myself.
So now I look up at the stars before I go to bed and the terrors grip me, gasping in my sleep. I know I’ll wake up and have a beautiful day. And if I die before I wake, I’ll have lived a good day today.
“I wanted you to be the first to know,” Rowan
confided in me. I think. Was Rowan his name? I’m not sure. I just walked into
the break room and popped open a Fresca. Now this Rowan character, whom I’ve
only ever seen in office meetings and the restroom is confiding in me. Was his
name Jeremy?
He seems nervous. I sense he wants to tell me
something weighty and I can’t even remember his name.
While sipping my soda, he continues. “The thing is, I’ve only ever wanted you to know.” I try not to let the bubbles tickle out a swampy belch as he continues. “But I know that eventually everyone will find out, so I’m telling you now,” Jeremy said? Was his name Jeremy Rowan? Or Rowan Jeremy?
Something like thirty cubicles span the space
between me and this RJ character, so why is he unloading his life on me? His
badge! I can glance at the name on his employee badge. I look down at the usual
badge holding locations. Shirt pocket. Damn. Belt loop. Shit.
His eyes are staring blankly into mine. I’m
only half paying attention to what he is saying but I understand from over
thirty years of social cues that it is my turn to respond.
“That’s cool, man.” Balls. I think that was
too casual. Maybe I don’t understand. I’ll nod a few times, press my lips
together and blink slowly. That looks sincere, almost brotherly. Now he’s
squinting and crossing his arms. Reremy Jowan is crossing his arms?
“I’m busting out of here.” Jowan Reremy
laughs and lets his face relax into a smile.
Thank the gods of social situations, Wojarn
Reemy is being facetious. This isn’t a serious conversation. I’m saved. I can
call him ‘buddy’, or ‘chief’, maybe even ‘sport’. The point is, I’m free.
“Good for you, man.” I go with ‘man’, it’s
utilitarian.
“Excuse me?” Merry Najowe says, lifting his eyelids up and jutting his
chin towards me. He presses a finger to his right ear and says, “No, sorry,
someone in the break room is talking to me.”
Sipping from the can of Fresca in my right
hand, I use my left to try waving Jarme Yerwo off with the old I-had-this-running-conversation-in-my-mind-and-at-the-same-time-I-was-trying-to-figure-out-your-name-while-trying-to-appear-sincere-because-you-sounded-serious-but-were-just-being-facetious-so-now-I’m-processing-all-that-and-casually-waving-you-off
look.
I’m not pulling it off.
“I’ll call you back,” says Jeemy Roranw
(maybe the “w” is silent?). Wanjo yemerr pulls his finger from his ear and
focuses on me. Then the words that change my life forever, come forth from his
mouth. “I’m sorry, I was on the phone. You probably thought I was talking to
you. What’s your name again? I’ve seen you around, but I can’t remember it.”
So confident, straightforward and kind, he
asked for my name with no excuses. Wenermy Jr. shows me a level of class my
introverted mind has never fathomed before this moment. Aoeey Wjrrm blows my
mind. He is a social genius. I take a loud sip of my Fresca trying to find the
words.
With the bubbles still burning my throat, I
force out a raspy whisper, “It’s Simon.”
“Well Simon, it’s nice to meet you. I’ll see
you around.” He claps me on the shoulder and walks out of the room. Wanormy
Reej leaves me with a foundational building block for constructing my
retarded-above-average social IQ and my Grapefruit with Lime soda.
I think about how I’ll never forget Wanjo Yererm, or whatever his name is.
Whilst making a living... 