"Did you just leave another birthday message?" the kid asked with his coffee in hand.
"Yes," I said stepping out of the quiet room of the office. Every other room had walls seemingly made of paper. If you sat quietly while there was a meeting going on in the adjoining room you could hear almost everything down to the typing on the keyboard.
I had a friend who had access to the mother's room in the office. When we were sure it wasn't busy I would swoop in and record a song for a friend and send it via text. I did this when I didn't have time driving in in the morning. I liked to wait until afternoon because sometimes the morning voice didn't cut it.
Lately I was so deflated in the evenings that they would know my heart just wasn't into it.
"That's nice. I only have a few people who remember my birthday," he said taking a swig of his afternoon pick me up. "You must get a shitload of calls and texts on your birthday."
"Funny you should mention that," I said watching the blue bar slowly crawl across my screen. "I had about five people who reached out to say happy birthday this year."
"Five?" he said choking back a cough. "You leave two to three messages a week. I think I've heard you call three people in one day. How does that happen?"
"I've been off twit/face/sound/space for a while so people tend to forget. Most people wait for a hint from social media then they chime in. The only place I might be lower on the totem pole might be here."
"That's some sad shit," he said leaning against the wall. "It's almost like you're a second class citizen. When is your birthday anyway?"
"It was a few months ago. I was actually at a wedding with people who had no idea. I had given them hints a few weeks before but no one caught on. It was a wedding. I didn't think much of it. My Mom and my sister remembered. That's all that mattered.
"How's the coffee?" I asked hoping to change the subject.
"Almost as shitty as the people who don't call or write to you on your birthday. Well happy belated birthday."
"Thank you and happy birthday to you, too." He looked surprised. "Don't be shocked. It's this weekend. They post the office birthdays in the kitchen near the coffee machine. They feel it will increase office morale."
"I never noticed it. Thanks." Said the kid as he walked back to his desk.
I had one more message to send. I scrolled back through a few years of texts to see if they had wished me a happy birthday in the past. I saw that I was always the wellwisher.
I decided to just send a quick HBD message. After that last conversation I was so deflated that if I tried to sing they would know my heart just wasn't into it.
Monday, July 11, 2016
Monday, July 4, 2016
Day 113 - Responsibilities
"I remember asking my Dad for something. I don't remember exactly what it was but I know it had a bit of a price tag on it," I said as the car negotiated the curved exit ramp with ease.
"Turn right at the light, then when you hit the first stop sign turn left.
"I do remember that he didn't say no. I was fifteen so he knew I wasn't going to take no for an answer any way. I thought the money would just come from somewhere. I didn't know any better. His answer, though," I paused "his answer was even better than no."
"The left right here?" V asked as we got to the stop sign.
"Yes."
The night air felt good. Had it been twenty years ago this ride would have been made at 2:30 in the morning. I was surprised to look at the dashboard and see that it was only 9:30 at night.
This made me happy. If I drank the right amount of water and got to bed within the hour there was a possibility that I wouldn't be dealing with a raging hangover in the morning.
"I remember saying something like 'I'm part of this family so I should have a say in things!' He just looked at me and said 'You can have a say. I have no problem with that. The only thing you have to do is come up with enough money to cover the mortgage, pay the phone bill, electric bill, gas bill, and put food on the table for the month. Once you are able to shoulder that responsibility you can have a say.'"
"Sounds like a smart man," she said.
"He was," I said reflecting. "He was. I didn't have the answer. I just stood there dumbfounded. That is when I came up with the first plan."
"Speaking of plans, when were you planning to tell me which house is yours?"
"Sorry. It's the little brown colonial on the left."
"Plans Change," whispered a voice in the back of my head as we pulled into my driveway. I sat up a little bit straighter in my seat. I wasn't jolted sober but I was jolted alert. I remembered the last time I had a rock solid plan. I remembered how my feet were trapped in stone while the machines hammered my soul into the floor. I remembered that plans borne of pain play out poorly.
"Are you going to be ok?" She asked, noticing my back was a little bit straighter.
"I'm not going to read about you being found dead in your house a few days from now, am I? You're not going to fall asleep on your porch are you?"
"You could always come up and tuck me in," I said feeling the slick smile cut across my face, "BUT this wasn't a hook up call."
She put her head down and smiled.
"You're right," she said still smiling. "This was not a hook up call. Sleep well you beautiful black man."
"Safe travels. Shoot me a text when you get home so I know you're ok."
"You've got it," she said with a little salute. "and keep me in mind if you decide to leave this job. Sorry about your kitty."
"Thank you," I said stepping out of the car.
The little convertible roared off into the darkness. The night air felt good. Twenty years ago I would have been worried about a raging hangover. I knew I was going to get a good night's sleep. I knew I would wake up the next day and have no problem with the mortgage, the phone bill, the electric bill, the gas bill, and putting food on the table. It's amazing how time and good direction can teach you to shoulder the necessary responsibilities.
"Turn right at the light, then when you hit the first stop sign turn left.
"I do remember that he didn't say no. I was fifteen so he knew I wasn't going to take no for an answer any way. I thought the money would just come from somewhere. I didn't know any better. His answer, though," I paused "his answer was even better than no."
"The left right here?" V asked as we got to the stop sign.
"Yes."
The night air felt good. Had it been twenty years ago this ride would have been made at 2:30 in the morning. I was surprised to look at the dashboard and see that it was only 9:30 at night.
This made me happy. If I drank the right amount of water and got to bed within the hour there was a possibility that I wouldn't be dealing with a raging hangover in the morning.
"I remember saying something like 'I'm part of this family so I should have a say in things!' He just looked at me and said 'You can have a say. I have no problem with that. The only thing you have to do is come up with enough money to cover the mortgage, pay the phone bill, electric bill, gas bill, and put food on the table for the month. Once you are able to shoulder that responsibility you can have a say.'"
"Sounds like a smart man," she said.
"He was," I said reflecting. "He was. I didn't have the answer. I just stood there dumbfounded. That is when I came up with the first plan."
"Speaking of plans, when were you planning to tell me which house is yours?"
"Sorry. It's the little brown colonial on the left."
"Plans Change," whispered a voice in the back of my head as we pulled into my driveway. I sat up a little bit straighter in my seat. I wasn't jolted sober but I was jolted alert. I remembered the last time I had a rock solid plan. I remembered how my feet were trapped in stone while the machines hammered my soul into the floor. I remembered that plans borne of pain play out poorly.
"Are you going to be ok?" She asked, noticing my back was a little bit straighter.
"I'm not going to read about you being found dead in your house a few days from now, am I? You're not going to fall asleep on your porch are you?"
"You could always come up and tuck me in," I said feeling the slick smile cut across my face, "BUT this wasn't a hook up call."
She put her head down and smiled.
"You're right," she said still smiling. "This was not a hook up call. Sleep well you beautiful black man."
"Safe travels. Shoot me a text when you get home so I know you're ok."
"You've got it," she said with a little salute. "and keep me in mind if you decide to leave this job. Sorry about your kitty."
"Thank you," I said stepping out of the car.
The little convertible roared off into the darkness. The night air felt good. Twenty years ago I would have been worried about a raging hangover. I knew I was going to get a good night's sleep. I knew I would wake up the next day and have no problem with the mortgage, the phone bill, the electric bill, the gas bill, and putting food on the table. It's amazing how time and good direction can teach you to shoulder the necessary responsibilities.
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