The Craft of Fiction – Class Blog

It’s Saturday evening, the TV is on, and the nearly empty Thai containers lay strewn across the coffee table. There are fewer moving boxes than before, but a dozen or so remain, waiting to be unpacked. That particular task will have to be completed tomorrow. Mandy, exhausted, rubs her aching back, thinking of all the lifting, and moving she did today.

Marcus, remote in hand, finally settles on a channel. “Star Trek rerun okay with you?”

“Mmmm,” she mumbles, too tired and sore to speak actual words.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says. Then adds, “Roll over and I’ll rub your back.” She turns over and scooches closer in a you-don’t-have-to-tell-me-twice kind of way.

After two episodes of Star Trek, and a perfect, just what she needed, massage, she decides to head to bed. Although the mattress is on the floor, it’s made up with clean sheets, and a comforter. She is now thankful that she took the time to make the bed earlier, since all she could handle now is climbing under the covers.

Before her foot could even hit the second stair up to the bedroom, her phone lit up with LOW BATTERY. She cringed as if she’d been scolded, and realized her charger was still packed away in some unknown box. “Marcus,” she called, “do you know where your charger is, and if so, can I borrow it?”

“Yes,” he yells from somewhere in the house where he’s making sure all the doors are secured. “It’s with my wallet on the box next to the bed.”

She ascends the stairs to the bedroom, and quickly locates the box, and the wallet, but no charger. She searches on the floor, and finds the charger. As she grabs it, she spots a small card, an appointment card. “Hmmm?” she murmurs as she picks it up. Then, “What the…?” It says Marcus Tiberias, Wednesday 9:30 am. Followed by, Dr. Michael Sanders Head of Department of Oncology.

My sixth date with Marilyn is this evening, we really hit it off in college. I cleaned and polished my black 2020 Mustang for this visit with her family. She stays with me in the library after class, sharing her notes if I cover our coffee. She’s more motivated than I ever was. When she told me to turn down Oak Street, I thought it was a shortcut not her home address. Oak Street is a tough, watch-your-back kind of neighbourhood. I kept my composure, but my senses were on high alert as we pulled up. As we drove in, a group of teens in hoodies turned away so as not to be seen. Smoking whatever they were inhaling that day.

“C’mon in Bud, I’ll get my folks then I’ll show you around.” 

At the door were workman boots and a hi-viz yellow men’s jacket, a ladies jacket, assorted shoes and at least six baseball caps all stacked on one hook. I looked around, the house has two floors, but I’m not sure if the worn wooden stairs would hold me. This house is a circa 1940 war time home, like my grandparents place when I visited as a young lad. Same football field size backyard I bet. Memories started coming at me, good memories. The times we had at my grandpa and gramma’s house, no rules except don’t chase the cats. I’m sure there’s history under the many layers of wallpaper in this house. The furnishings are dated, could pass for retro if they weren’t so worn-out. They could’ve filmed the movie Grapes of Wrath here I thought. I count four cats, all looking at my hands, measuring me up like I might have snacks. The grey one took a liking to me, pawing at me until I picked her up. Damn, my eyes are tearing up. I half-expected my gramma to step out the kitchen to hug me, like she always did.

“Bud, meet my mom and dad. Bud and I do our homework together”.

I was nauseous after my meeting with Vera, our new boss. I circled the office looking busy, but really looking for my trusted friend Alex who was working on his slides when I edged up close.

“My first meeting with Vera was brutal Alex. She kept asking me insane questions, like ‘What do you expect the shortfall will be end-of-month Brian?’ And she wanted the low down on some of the clients I’ve never even met.” 

Alex was in work mode, hidden in a quiet dark office space, as he likes it. I know the spot well, we’ve had many convos here, away from the mob of contract employees they keep hiring and letting go at Williams Insurance. He’s my goto for office gossip, the kind that can cost your job if you don’t stay alert. 

Focused on his screen, mumbling “48,500 should be right…, huh, I think she’s testing you Brian. Like finding out who’s the apex analyst in finance.” 

“But she frowned when we wrapped up, she wasn’t happy with my half-answers. She looked right through me like I didn’t know my arse from a hole in the ground. I’m screwed.” 

Looking up from his screen, “It’s your first meeting with Vera and she knows you’re a junior analyst. Like I said, just testing the waters. It’s what I would do if I were her.”

“What would you do if you were me, Alex? I mean, what do I do? She asked me to attend a meeting with shareholders, take notes for her. Am I now her notetaker? I’m on a short lease. Gawd.”

More mumbling, “168,000 year end…” 

I pause, waiting for something, some glimmer of hope. Rolling his chair back exposing his leather shoes and ready-for-golf-with-clients wardrobe, finally switching his focus to me. 

“Brian, build trust with her. Stay calm, do her notes and add your insights. Your insights have been well regarded by everyone. I’m golfing with her tomorrow, I’ll put in a good word for you.”

I cut it off two months ago. Regina was getting into my business, asking questions. Where does a bank employee get money for Vegas? How can you afford a new car? Then she wants a bigger diamond on her finger. That’s the problem with embezzling, someone gets greedy. I told her a half-truth, I had a promotion that came with a bigger salary. I worked hard for the new role, seven years from teller to systems, then made the jump to financial advisor. Fact was this promotion was lateral, no salary increase but a nice new name tag and a private office to handle, or mishandle as the case may be, seniors’ finances. They never miss the small amounts I skim, easy money. 

My office backs onto the parking lot, I saw her pull in. Regina has a look of ‘that bastard’ on her face, I quickly grab my lunch and head for the exit. “Mel, I’m taking an early lun…” Just then Regina walks in and comes toward with the same ballsy attitude she’s always had. “I need to talk with you now!” loud enough to turn heads. I give her my warmest smile, “Nice timing, join me for lunch.” I smile at Mel and take Regina by the hand out to the parking lot where she clocks me on the side of the head with her purse. “I know what you’re doing, how could you? I want back in!” I have little choice, it’s a business decision now.

Jack’s my best friend. But he’s too work busy, too shy, and too trusting with his friends. This is a first, asking me to visit his spicy new girlfriend, Audrey, to let her know he can’t message her while bartending, but wants to meet after his shift in the lounge. I owe Jack this favour. His last girlfriend wasn’t exactly immaculate, Jack still has bruises from their breakup fight. Just glad he didn’t find out I was the other guy in that doomed-from-the-start relationship. 

It’s 7:20pm and lights are on in her street-level apartment at 58 Sunflower Street. I see a slim figure moving about inside. I’m nervous but cool, straighten my jacket and step up to the front door. I catch the intriguing aroma of dinner, wine and a woman’s scent. I stand for another minute collecting myself, watching her through the door window as she moves around the kitchen. About 25, blonde, my type and I can’t take my eyes off her. I feel my palms sweat. I take a breath and knock three times playfully. Audrey opens the door and smiles. I stutter, but get my name out, “Hi Audrey, I’m Jack’s friend Jamie”. Her inviting look made it hard to hide my interest. “Jack asked that I drop be.” Audrey invites me in and pours two glasses red and sits opposite. I try not to stare while we sip the wine slowly together.

For any person working, the best thing about Saturday is not Saturday but Friday evening. And that’s how it had been for Mr. Lu. Sunday to Friday—work, work, and work. Then the glorious evening of Friday that gave the glimpse of a free day for a kind of free guy. But then Saturday would come, and with just a blink, the day would pass by. And back to the same old routine in a loop. But it was time it changed. One fine Saturday morning, as always, he went for a walk, and as always, he sat on a bench and took out a pouch that contained grains for fish. He loved feeding them. For some reason, it made him feel alive. It was the gate that took him away from the busy mechanical loop.

Alan! Alan!

He looked around but could not find anyone.

Alan! Down here. Down here.

He looked into the pond and almost screamed. The sound came from a fish. A fish! “He was definitely not a Dolittle,” he thought. “Or was he?”