Chapter seven:
“Need you to lock up tonight,” Charlie says.
“Sure thing,” I reply as I look up from my mopping with a smile.
And I don’t mind. I honestly don’t.
I know I should be paid extra for it, but I find it comforting, the fact that he trusts me enough to lock up for him. I mean this is his business, his livelihood. In many ways, this is more important than his kids and wife, because they don’t provide him with the things he needs more than anything else—money. And I know he needs money by the way he’s been swearing at his computer screen all day.
Online gambling. It’s the fucking future.
He smiles and pats my hand. “You’re a good boy,” he says, and then he goes back into his office and shuts the door. Charlie has his bad habits, but he’s good at heart, and I honestly think that’s all we can ever hope for in this life.
Work is busy today, with a big shipment of meat going out for the first time in a long time. And I’m a little surprised that Charlie isn’t more hands-on with it because I know he’s broke right now. He knows that his guys fuck things up if they’re left to their own devices. He’s seen it himself. But still he stays in his office, the orange glow of his screen reflecting off of his sweaty face.
But I don’t say anything to him, or them.
It’s not my place to lecture anyone.
I know when to keep my mouth shut. I’ve learned that over the years. Besides, after mouthing off yesterday it’s probably best to keep my head in the sand for a while because I really need this job. My parole officer would be pissed if I lost my job.
So I go back to mopping and disinfecting and I help out when they need me to carry some of the heavy boxes, because I’m a pretty strong man, not a weedy little boy like I used to be. There’s some good men working here, but I don’t mix too much with them. Or maybe they don’t mix too much with me. Either way, it works, and I’m good with it.
I don’t need to make any friends.
I like my solitude.
I like my space.
I like my routine.
I’m a little pissed off, though, when it comes to quitting time and I realize that I’m actually the only one still here. Charlie left several hours ago, and the other guys, I have no idea when they went.
I’m normally very observant too, so it’s strange that I didn’t notice.
I clean down everyone’s workstations and I finish up my job, and then I finish up theirs because although they don’t care, I do. And then I go around and I do the usual routine of turning off lights and locking doors and making sure everything is where it should be and safe and secure.
I need to know that things will be exactly where I left them when I come back in tomorrow.
I need to know that things aren’t just going to disappear on me.
Not ever again.
It’s late when I finish, and of course it’s fucking raining again. It never seems to stop raining lately. It’s driving me nuts. I like early autumn best of all because it’s nice to see the leaves change color and fall from the trees. Everything is dying, and yet it all seems so alive. It’s kind of perfect really.
But spring sucks.
All it does is fucking rain.
I head to the bus stop and I sit and I wait. And it’s not too bad at first. I get to think by myself for a little while.
But then I get cold, and then I think about everyone else—including Charlie—who is probably all sitting at home right now fucking their wives, bathing their kids, or watching their flat-screens while they eat their microwaved food on their TV trays.
And I can’t help it.
I start to feel a little resentment toward them all.
A little resentment and anger that slowly bubbles to the surface.
