My coworkers Jesse and Carla are waiting, so I stand behind them and hope the elevator arrives soon. I’m not particularly close to either of these people, so it’s no surprise they don’t speak to me. They seem off today, though. I don’t want to be paranoid, but I swear every time they whisper to one another that they’re talking about me.
That’s crazy. Any other day, I’d stand here just as I am now waiting to ride up in the elevator to the fourth floor and no one would say a word to me, and I’d be perfectly happy. We never chat when we see each other. They work in a different section than I do, and we’ve never been friendly. Today’s no different, yet all I can think as I wait behind them is they’re gossiping about me and what happened to Bryan.
The ride up to my floor makes me sure they’re talking about me when they continue to whisper to each other and then lookback at me like I’m some kind of unwanted thing they wish they could dispel from this elevator. I consider asking what the problem is, but the last thing I want to hear this morning is how they think I’m a goddamned murderer.
By the time I reach my desk, I’m positive I was mistaken about work being some kind of refuge for me. It’s just as bad as staying at home and dealing with the ugly judgmental stares from my neighbors. Great. I just hope none of my leads have heard what happened, or I’m going to have a hard time selling a damn thing.
Mid-morning break time comes around, but unlike every other workday, nobody asks me if I’m going to grab a coffee or try one of Sylvia’s cakes she makes for everyone every Monday. The entire office empties out until I’m left alone at my desk, thankful that it seems I’m only a leper in my community and workplace and not around the world where my clients are.
At least there’s that.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Martin standing in his office doorway. He waves me over as he tries to smile, but it never reaches his eyes. Great. I’m probably going to be fired now. He’ll probably spew that shtick about moral turpitude like he did when he fired Meredith for having an affair with the maintenance guy. If he’s willing to let someone go for sleeping around, I can’t imagine being safe in my job now that he thinks I’m a damn murderer.
Every step I take toward him feels like a move toward doom. Without this job, I can’t afford the mortgage. Or the girls’ gymnastic lessons and everything that comes with their competitions. Or the landscaper who comes once a week to make sure the lawn is cut to the proper specifications that goddamned HOA insists are necessary to keep our community looking the best it can be.
God, I hate when one of the board says those words. They always come attached to a tone that’s full of irritation mixed with condescension. Every single one of those people who lord the rules over us acts as if the Almighty himself placed them in their position of power. What a bunch of assholes!
All of this fills my head as I walk past my boss into his office. He closes the door behind us, which is never a good sign. Martin always kept the door open when he and Bryan would hang out in here. That’s how we all knew he was the favorite.
“I thought I should bring you in so we could have a talk this morning, Connor. How are you doing?”
Surprise stops me from answering for a few moments. How am I doing? Nobody’s asked me that since everything happened on Saturday. Not even Jamie has shown any concern for how I’m feeling.
He sits down behind his desk and smiles for the first time. “You look tired. This whole thing has taken a toll on you, I bet.”
I nod, unsure how to answer. If I complain about how I’m being treated, I’ll sound like a Grade A asshole considering Bryan’s dead. If I pretend like I’m fine, I’ll come off as cold and uncaring, like his horrible death hasn’t bothered me at all.
Martin leans forward and nods solemnly. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you did anything to hurt Bryan. It’s not in your nature, Connor. It’s just not.”
My surprise morphs into genuine shock. “Really? Because everyone else thinks I killed him,” I say in a low voice, barely able to utter those horrible words.
“I know, and I’m sorry for the way they’re treating you.”
I let out a heavy sigh, finally able to feel some relief from how awful all this has been. “I get it. It’s a small town we all live in. They see the cops come to my house, so they assume the worst. I had hoped my coworkers would know me better than that, but at least you don’t think the worst of me. I appreciate that, Martin.”
He doesn’t respond, and for a few very long moments, we sit there in silence. A feeling of awkwardness settles in between us in the quiet, and I can’t help but worry at any moment Martin is going to say as much as he hates to do this, he can’t have someone like me working for the company with all the discontent my being here is causing. I couldn’t blame him if he did.
But instead, he sighs and asks, “What happened? Can you tell me? I’m hearing all sorts of ridiculous and outrageous stories I can’t imagine are anything but ridiculous gossip.”
As much as I hate recounting every step of that horrible afternoon, I feel like I need to for the only person in the world I have supporting me. I take a deep breath in and let it out slowly as the memory of everything that happened fills my brain once more.
“Bryan and I decided to go for a hike. My kids had some of their friends over, and the last thing I wanted to do was listen to eight screaming and giggling girls for another minute longer. So I met him at the community center, and we set off on the trail right behind the building. We weren’t out there for long before we came to the clearing at the top of the first hill.”
Martin nods. “I know exactly the place. Bryan convinced me to get off my duff one Sunday morning and go hiking with him, and we walked up to that same clearing. I was out of breath because I’m not in the kind of shape he is.”
Suddenly my boss stops and frowns, drawing his eyebrows in toward his nose in a deep grimace. “Was. I have to tell you I’m not sure I’m ever going to get used to talking about him in the past tense.”
I feel like I want to say I’m sorry, but I know that will sound like I’m guilty, so I simply force a tiny smile and nod. Martin closes his eyes, and I watch as he fights back tears. He and Bryan really must have been close.
When his grief subsides, he opens his eyes and says, “So what happened?”
“I don’t know, Martin. He was waving a gun around, chasing after some hedgehog he saw in the bushes. It wasn’t doing anything. He just seemed to want to kill it. He took a shot at it, and it ran away. He wanted to take another shot, but I said we should keep hiking. I don’t know what he was thinking, but he waved the gun around again and I heard it go off. The next thing I knew, he was on the ground with a shot to his chest. I didn’t have my phone, so I ran down to the community center. But the police are telling me they think I shot him, that it has to be a murder and not a suicide. I swear on my life I wouldn’t hurt Bryan. I liked him. He was a good guy. Why would I want to do anything to him?”
He nods while I try to explain everything and hope I don’t sound like a complete moron. It was suicide, not murder. I’d stake my life on that.
“The difference in the angle of the gunshot should be telling them it was self-inflicted,” my boss says.
I shrug, wishing I knew why they can’t see that. “I don’t know why this has blown up into a huge case. It was an accident. I don’t think Bryan meant to hurt himself or me, for that matter. I think he believed he could handle a gun, and like it can, it went off when he didn’t expect it to. I swear I wouldn’t kill a soul, Martin.”
