It is awfully easy to be hard boiled about everything in the daylight, but at night it's another thing altogether. In other words he was fooling himself. It would never be the same no matter the time and attention that was paid. What was that stupid saying? The only this that is constant is that things always change. For months now he railed against that trite yet true phrase. He felt that by shear will he could keep his life in order, but no more. He knew that it was time to let go and accept his new surroundings. Fact, he had lost his job. Fact, his wife had left and taken the kids. Fact, he was drinking too much. Fact, the severance was about to run out and he was in no shape to start looking for work. So a crossroads was upon him. A paradox of bad choices where no one would win and only he could lose. His wife certainly did not want him back, and in five short month she was dating and the kids had a new "uncle". His industry was not exactly calling for his return either. Especially not since he showed up at that Brotherhood of Architects event in a day old suit with twigs in his hair from passing out in Gramercy Park the night before. Hold on for that tale.
He was the talk of the party though. As popular a subject as he had ever been although this time in spite of any achievements or accolades. No longer the golden boy, but now the result of the golden rule. Do shitty unto others and shit will follow you. So now still in that suit and still with bits of shrubbery from that exclusive oasis in his hair and, he just discovered, in both suit coat pockets, he began mulling over the next step. Now let's not give our boy too much credit for confronting his demons because he was considering these choices hovering over a glass of whiskey not three blocks from that aforementioned park that forced his current consideration. As with any hardship it all began because of a girl. His name was Francis Hems. The family legend says it was shortened by some bureaucrat at Ellis Island from the more ethnic Heimlich. His Great Grandfather did not even notice until the bull from the shoe factory read the document pinned to his cheap Eastern European jacket out loud before herding him onto the bus with the rest of that day's recruits. Most of these new employees wouldn't even last as long as the bus ride to Maine. Finally succumbing to illness picked up either crossing the Atlantic from Amsterdam or the week it took to get through the lines and quarantine in the shadow of the Statue of Liberty. Ironically the same symbol that lured most of them to this new land.
No comments:
Post a Comment