Drink in case of Emergency (11 page)

Tyler noticed that all four bottles were open now, and each missing some liquid. “I thought you guys were going to secure the ground floor with Amy?”

“Already done. We’ve got the stairwell locked and blocked in both the front and back sides of the building. I swear it must be a firecode violation, but the damn things open inwards. It was easy to just lie down a few filing cabinets so they block the door from opening.” Chris looked from Justin to Tyler, a smile suddenly dropping from his face. “What’s wrong, Ty? You look like someone shit in your Nikes.”

Tyler had just taken a swig from one of the bottles that Chris had brought. The mouthful of scotch exploded out out of his mouth in a spray of surprise at the statement. In between gasps and coughs, he was finally able to ask “What? Shit in my Nikes? Like, the shoes?”

“Yeah. You look bummed. You know, like someone left a poopy present in your shoes, down by the toes so you didn’t see it and put your foot into it.” Chris had a bland look on his face, as if this were the plainest explanation he had ever given. Chris went on for a moment before trailing off slowly. “And then you get shit all over your new socks too...Really Ty’, this is a ‘thing’ that people say.”

So weird sometimes...Tyler thought to himself before speaking up. “I was going to try to figure out why I got fired. But the filing cabinet is locked.” Tyler looked out the window as he spoke, not wanting to make eye contact with his two friends that were staring at him. “I know it doesn’t matter, but I just wanted to know.”

Justin and Chris exchanged concerned looks for a brief moment. Chris took a long pull from one of the bottles while Justin started slowly. “Tyler...I don’t think you do.”

“I just said I don’t, but I want to.”

“No, you don’t know that it doesn’t matter. Somewhere in your brain you still think it does.” Chris went on “There is some part of your brain that wants to know why they fired you, so you can fix up your resume just right and make it look like it was a mutual break. Or maybe you want to go to a seminar on whatever stupid reason they came up with for letting you go. I don’t know your exact reason, but by worrying about that, it’s clear that you haven’t accepted the severity of what is happening right now. Even if this is just a localized thing, I’m pretty sure anyone who could have written you a recommendation is now a zombie, not that I see you needing a recommendation anytime soon.”

“I don’t know why. I just need to know. I’ve never been fired from a job before. It’s like. What the fuck? What did I do wrong?”

“It’d be cute if it weren’t so sad.” Justin said, mostly to Chis before taking a long pull from a bottle and turning back to face the grill. “How do you two like your steaks?”

“Well done.” Tyler blurted out. At that both Chris and Justin fell silent and simply stared in disbelief at Tyler. “Now what?” The room was silent for another full 10 seconds, when footsteps on thin carpeting began scuffing down the hallway. Scott turned the corner a few seconds later.

“We got the ground floor blocked off, the downside is if we need to get out in a hurry we are going to have to jump from the second floor or take the elevator, which might stop working at any minute.” Scott looked from face to silent face. “Who shit in Tyler’s Nike’s?”

That’s really a thing then? Damn.

“He wants to find out why he got fired, but he can’t. So, I guess when it comes down to it, a filing cabinet shit in his Nikes.” Chris tossed Scott one of the bottles and continued. “And he said he likes his steak well done.”

“Well that’s your problem, buddy.” Scott twisted the cap off of the bottle and took a quick swig, wincing at the flavor. “You take your steak the wrong way.” He pointed the neck of the bottle at Tyler to emphasize the point.

“What’s so wrong with liking steak well done?” Tyler shrugged his shoulders in questioning frustration. “And what did you mean the elevator could stop any moment?”

Tyler was surprised when it was Chis who answered his question. “If you prefer your steak well done, it’s either because you haven’t had a good steak, or something’s not quite right in your head. It’s just natural to love half bloody, good meat.” Chris took another sip on his bottle and continued. “As to the elevator, the power plants might be able to run unmanned for a short period of time, but eventually they’ll break down and no more power. At least not from the outlets.”

“How long do you think that’s going to take?” Justin asked while still facing the grill.

“No way to tell for sure, I don’t know dick about our local power supply. Back to the more important matter though, we need to get back at that filing cabinet that shit in your Nikes.” Chris rose from his feet, as if that ended of the conversation. Tyler was on the defensive now.

“It’s not that big of a deal guys. I need to let it go, right? I mean, it’s clearly in the past now, and nothing that was written by them is going to have any effect on the future.”

Scott was already walking away, his bottle half empty now. Chris walked toward Tyler and put a hand on his shoulder, speaking softly. “If I have to listen to you bitch and moan about it for the next umpteen months until one of us dies, that’s going to be annoying. So no, it’s not in the past. Not for you. Not yet. Let’s go put it there.”

With that, Chris walked away, and Tyler rose slowly and followed him, like a sad puppy. Justin shouted from the grill, not bothering to turn around. “You got about five minutes until steaks are done.”

****

“You let this fat-fuck fire you?” The alliterated question hung in the silent air. Chris was looking at the photograph that Charlie kept on his desk. It was of Charlie and his daughter before her eighth grade sweetheart dance, nearly two years ago now. Tyler remembered how proud Charlie was that whole week. His baby was growing up. Tyler wanted to tell him that’s what all kids do, all people, all living things, in fact. They grow up and make poor life decisions. Tyler didn’t have the heart to tell him that his awkward, chubby little girl was probably doing some borderline immoral and embarrassing things to get boys’ attention these days.

“Well it’s not like I asked him to. Or even gave him permission. He’s in HR, it’s kinda what he does.”

“What a shitty job.” Chris sat down in one of the “guest” chairs and put his feet up on the desk. While he sat back and sipped on a bottle of scotch, Scott stared at the filing cabinet intensely, and Tyler looked back and forth from the filing cabinet to Scott, trying to figure out what part of the cabinet was so intriguing him. Scott stared as if the cabinet were one of those 3D image hidden pictures. The ones that look like the static from a blank channel on TV, only in color, and if you stare long enough, you still never see anything and then lie to your friends about the sailboat you saw.

“Well, you going to open it or not?” Scott asked suddenly. Tyler was a little taken aback.
             
“I thought you guys were going to help me open it.”

“Yeah, we’re supervising.” Scott replied.

“And offering advice. Like how HR must be a shitty job.” Chris added, helpfully.

“And how am I supposed to open it? It’s locked.” Tyler looked back and forth from Scott to Chris. Scott sighed before responding.

“Break it.” Scott answered.

“Break it? What kind of advice is that?” Tyler was a little upset that they brought him back to this room, the memories of it so fresh. Especially if this was all the help he was going to get.

“The right kind of advice. You break it like a crazy monkey.” Chris answered from his spot in the guest chair.

“This isn’t rocket science, bud.” Scott could see Tyler’s frustration, so he moved closer and put his arm around his shoulder before speaking softly. “This isn’t rocket science, or even basic algebra for that matter. All you have to do is smash the piece of shit filing cabinet. Remember that anger you felt when you got fired. When that smug ass man told you that you weren’t good enough to keep working here?” Scott pointed at the awkward formal photo on the desk to emphasize the question. “I know you wasted a lot of that anger beating up your liver yesterday, but you need to dig it up again. Dig it up and take it out on the filing cabinet that’s keeping you from moving on.

Tyler took a calm and measured breath before responding. He reasoned it out in his head that Charlie probably wasn’t going to know it was him who broke it, if Charlie was even still alive. He probably did have more important things to worry about, so it was okay to break a little filing cabinet.

“I think I can do that.” Tyler stepped away from Scott and in front of the filing cabinet. It stood five feet tall. Narrow and a bland office grey, with another picture of Charlie’s daughter on top. This one looked like it might have been from her ninth grade year, standard school photos. Tyler was trying to bring up some sort of rage from being fired, but he couldn’t find it. He tried to imagine it as a raging inferno in his chest, the feeling of betrayal the sheer unfairness of it all. Hadn’t he worked hard? Hadn’t he put in the hours and delivered his work on time? The raging inferno Tyler tried to imagine was coming up dull. Instead of a great, angry conflagration, it was a small candle. Tyler was about to give up, to tell his friends that he didn’t have rage in his heart. He must have taken it all out on his liver, when he looked up at the picture again.

Ninth grade Hannah. Or Beckkah. Or whatever her name was, Tyler honestly didn’t have a clue. He couldn’t even remember how old kids were in ninth grade. Eleven? Nineteen? No, that couldn’t be right. She stared at him through those ninth grade eyes, her smiling teeth an awkward mess of plastic and metal braces. Her slightly pudgy cheeks had just a hint of red in them. Tyler imagined for a moment, what her day must have been like, when she had this photo taken. She was probably nervous, having spent at least a half hour picking out what clothes she was going to wear. Tyler could only see to her shoulders, but clearly it was a nicer blue shirt, one that would have been called a “blouse” by her mother, who probably helped her pick it out at the store. It might have been revealing, if she wasn’t wearing the white lace tank top underneath. Her dyed brown hair was just starting to reveal the dirty blonde roots beneath. Her brown eyes stared at him through the photograph.

Tyler thought about what her life was like. Everything must be terrifying for a pubescent teenage girl. Which boys liked her? What does she think about them? What about her social studies homework? All in all, a terrifying time full of deadlines and social emergencies. Tyler wondered if Charlie had “the talk” with her, or if he had let the public school systems handle that awkward conversation. Had she kissed a boy yet? Had she done other things with boys that her Charlie would die if her found out about? What was she going to do when she grew up? Tyler remembered how that was a big deal when he was fifteen. Fifteen, THAT’S how old ninth graders were. Fifteen and her whole life ahead of her.

Her whole life ahead of her.

Twelve years until she would be in his shoes. Twelve years of excitement, heartbreak, new experiences and anticipation that were in his past now. Tyler thought about having lost all of that time. Twelve years of his life that were behind him and the experiences he would never get again. The experiences she would likely never get, unless she wasn’t a zombie too.

From Scott and Chris’s perspective, Tyler stared long and hard at the filing cabinet. He stared in silence for at least a full minute. Scott and Chris looked back and forth at one another during this minute, sipping on their bottles of scotch and exchanging questioning glances, before looking back to Tyler, who was still staring at the filing cabinet intensely.

Chris was about to speak up when all of the sudden Tyler let out a shout of anger and kicked forward into the filing cabinet. His foot left a dent in the third drawer down. There was another second of silence as all three friends stared at the dent. Tyler let out another long cry and released a series of kicks at the cabinet. He then grabbed the top of the cabinet and pulled it toward him, tipping it over on it’s face before kicking and denting the sides. After five or six good kicks Tyler jumped on top of the tipped over cabinet and began stomping and jumping on it, still shouting and grunting as he worked. This went on for another thirty seconds or so until he stopped. Panting in exhaustion, he sat down on the dented piece of office furniture.

Chris and Scott waited in silence, until Chris offered his bottle to Tyler. Tyler took a long drink, the sound of his swallowing audible in the silent office space. When he finally took the bottle from his lips he let out an audible sigh of relief.

“I feel a lot better now. Thanks.” was all Tyler said before the three fell silent again. The silence was only broken by Tyler’s panting which slowed over the next minute. Tyler stared down at the beaten and battered mess he had made. Scott sat on the edge of the desk, staring thoughtfully out of the open office door. The light shifted slowly as the sun continued to lower on the horizon. Chris still sat in the ‘guest’ chair, shifting in the uncomfortable seat. A hopeful look on his face as he watched Tyler. Another minute passed until they heard footsteps and a shout come from down the hallway.

“Meat’s done.” Another few footsteps later, Justin’s head poked from around the corner. After observing the scene for a few heartbeats, his face disappeared. “I’m hungry, so if you guys still want to reenact ‘Office Space’ I’ll just get started without you.”

Chris rose slowly from the guest chair at that and began moving slowly toward the door, followed shortly by Scott. As Scott crossed the threshold into the hallway, he turned and spoke softly. “Do you want a minute?” Tyler looked up finally at the question, the spell of the moment finally broken.