“So,”
Robb said, seating himself, “What’s all this about?”
“We wanted to tell you, personally,”
the boss, a large woman in her late fifties, had called Robb into her office
earlier. “Why you were turned down for the promotion.”
Robb crossed his arms.
“It’s because you’re too valuable an
asset,” the boss said. She creased her forehead, “Listen. Sometimes, when it’s
your day off, occasionally we’ll hear back from a store and they’ll tell us
that we shipped a rotten piece of meat. Mistakes happen. When you’re working
here, this never happens. We’re willing to give you a bonus if you’re willing to stay.”
“Well, you don’t have to, I mean I’m
fine where I am, just,” Robb said, “Personally this kind of sounds weird. Are you
trying to tell me nothing I’ve shipped has ever been rotten?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling
you,” the boss said. She smiled.
“So…” Robb stopped himself, “Ok.
I’ll take that bonus.”
“Good to hear,” she said.
Robb rose from the chair and walked
out. He went straight for the break room, with its single yellow bulb and its
three ancient wooden tables, found a chair, and sat down. He checked the clock.
He had five minutes left on his break. Leave it to the boss to take up his
break time with bad news.
He went back early. He slipped his
gloves back on as he stood before the iron door, threw the latch, opened it,
stepped in. He watched his breath and then swung the door shut behind him. It
made a loud noise and startled Jimmy. Robb smiled.
“Hey, I’ve got a bit of a problem,”
Jimmy said.
Robb’s shift ended at five. He
passed the boss without saying anything. He figured he probably should have
asked how he’d get his bonus, but he was in the parking lot before he made up
his mind. He found his car, a beaten blue convertible with a roof that was
warped so you could never take it off, and drove home without the radio on. He
passed straight through Downtown to get back to the ‘burbs and parked his car
on the street.
Robb’s house was the house his
family used to live in. Two stories, narrow, grey paint. Dave said it looked
like something that would have been built by a totalitarian future government.
The windows were all perfectly square and had thick iron bars over them. Robb
hadn’t realized how weird that was until Dave had pointed it out.
When the front door’s lock got stuck
it made him think about how he really ought to do something about it because it
was frustrating as hell. When he finally opened it, he tried to think of all of
the other things he should get around to doing. He needed to schedule a
doctor’s appointment. He needed to find a present for his sister’s birthday.
Needed a card too. It was fucking improper to not get someone a card for their
birthday.
He’d made a list and put it on the
fridge so he’d see it every time he went for a soda or a snack. He walked into
the musty kitchen and looked at the fridge and sure enough, there was the list.
Most of the things were in faded ink. The paper the list was on was yellow and
crinkled, bent ever so slightly. Robb squinted at the last item. It was in red
sharpie. The only item on the list written so.
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