Alex: Lesson

Exhausted from a prolonged session of anxiety and inactivity, Alex fell asleep. 

He awoke to the golden warmth of midday and the sensation of being struck on the arm. Startled, Alex opened his eyes and flinched. A frisbee sat at his feet. The owner, rather than risk the embarrassment of a verbal apology, avoided eye contact. I'd like to tell him to get a job, but he could tell me the same thing. Need to get out of here. Can't go home. I'd like some food. Something cheap and sweet. Dan's Donuts is only two blocks away.

Walking again, Alex's eyes actively took in the scenery. A person with bags in their arms was yelling at a departing taxi cab. Movers were toting a walnut dresser up a set up steps. The sound of heavy breathing grew louder and he was soon overtaken by a woman is business attire running with two inch heels. Looks dangerous. A courier breezed by him on a bicycle weaving between pedestrians, parked cars, and planters at a surprising speed. More dangerous. I wonder when he last fell. I hope he has good insurance. Better than mine, I'm sure. None. I can't afford to be sick. What a pitiful thought! I'll probably die of something easily curable--the first to die of malaria in the United States in fifty years. Just curl up in a corner somewhere like Sparkles and give up my ghost.

The jangle of the overhead bell announced Alexander's entrance to Dan's Donuts.
"What'll it be?" asked a gruff-voiced employee.
"One jelly-filled donut...and...a small coffee."
"Cream?"
"No."
"$2.34."
Alex handed the man behind the counter a wrinkled five dollar bill from his bi-fold wallet. $197.66 left to my name. Shit. While waiting for the coffee, he grabbed the day's paper off a nearby table. Taking it, his coffee, and donut to a chair by the window, Alex settled in. After trying his hand at the cross-word puzzle (only filling in 46 of the 120 words), and being frustrated by the want ads, Alex withdrew a small notebook from his pocket. He took his time and wrote the following entry:

Why is it animals so frequently find a way to die with dignity and I am not allowed to live with dignity? The worst part of all of it: I have no one to blame. It's just the system. It's capitalism and the conventions of employment. Last hired; first fired. 'But I am a better worker.' It doesn't matter. 'But I put in more hours." It doesn't matter. 'But I actually don't steal from the company.' It doesn't matter. I have no one to curse at. I have been vanquished by an ethereal phenomenon. Slayed by the mist of circumstance. And

As Alex was writing, he took an unfortunate bite of donut. A slug of raspberry jelly shot out of the back of his snack and landed on his notebook. Red slowly fanned out around the edges of the discharge. Damnit. Alex grabbed for a napkin from the tabletop dispenser, but it was empty. Figures. Alex looked around and discovered that most of the dispensers were barren. The only dispenser that bore white was at the only other occupied table. Sitting at the table was a young woman wearing black framed glasses, and nibbling a bear claw whilst reading a book. She had delicate features, a thin, sharp nose, and rail-thin arms. Wishing not to intrude, he reached across the table and plucked a napkin from its holder. The woman looked up.

"Excuse me," she said sharply.
Alexander walked away.
"I said, 'Excuse me.'"
Alexander turned around and replied, "What?" She kept looking at him. "It's been a hard day. I didn't want to interrupt your reading or your eating. You looked to be enjoying both."
"Oh." The woman's face softened. "Sorry, it's been a hard day for me, too. I came here for a caloric remedy."
Still standing some distance away, Alex smiled at her now softened face. "I came here for a cheap snack."
Upon turning to return to his table, the woman said, "Aren't you going to join me?"
"That's a bit presumptuous, don't you think?"
"I'd say it's standard procedure. A girl makes small talk with a boy and the boy wants to keep it up."
"I haven't been a boy for a while."
"Looks like you still are."
It was true. Alexander was wearing a pair of khakis that fell just bellow his ankle, revealing too much of his dark socks. He normally loathed being referred to as young or having his baby face brought to attention.
A boy. 27? A boy? No. Save for living in a place that I don't own. Save for pilfering food out of my grandapa's pantry most nights. Still--she is pretty. Alex retrieved his half-eaten donut, wiped the jelly out of his notebook as best he could, and returned to the stranger's table.
"Let's have a competition. Who had the worst day?"
"What does the winner get?"
"That depends on the winner."
"Oh?"
"If I win, you have to apologize for being rude and promise not to be for the rest of the week. If you win, I'll let you go back to scribbling in your notebook."
"There's not much in it for me then."
"How so?"
"It's not that I want to write. It's just that it's better than being at home or staring at the wall."
"Oh. Well what do you want? And it can't be anything big."
"A job."
"A job is big--and I don't have any of those to give away either."
Alex cast his his hazel eyes down away from her brown ones. Why did I say that? Too much.
"What did you used to do?"
"I was a lawyer at Myers and Stanton."
"Never heard of it. What happened?"
"I'm still trying to figure that out."
"Hm. Well, at least your still alive and," casting a glance at the donut in his hand, "relatively well-fed."
He raised the donut, said, "Relatively," and took a bite.
She smiled at him, revealing a sliver of her teeth. He reciprocated, showing none of his.
"Prizes aside, what happened to you today?"
This is strange. Who talks to strangers? What's her angle? "I'm sorry, but why are you doing this?"
"Don't apologize yet, I haven't won. Why am I doing what?"
"Talking to me?"
"Because you were impolite and I had originally intended on teaching you a lesson."
"Don't let my day stop you. I could use a lesson."
"Well in that case..." she paused and looked squarely at him. Her eyes did not focus directly on his, but as though she were looking at a spot behind him. "There's never an excuse grand enough to be inhumane to another human being. Humanity is the only way we'll get through our days."
"We need more than that," Alex retorted quickly.
"What more could you need?"
"A job. A way to provide materially for yourself."
The young woman frowned. "No. If your employer had been humane, she would have kept you. Any man who writes in a journal and indulges a stranger in conversation ought to be employed."
"He--Them. They fired me."
"Myers and Stanton both?"
"Good memory, but no. A couple of my superiors sat me down and cut me loose."
"Did you do anything wrong? Steal post-it notes or sleep with a client's wife?"
"I stole post-it notes, but no one noticed. No. They said it was nothing personal. They said 'times are tough' and that they needed to downsize. They wished me luck, shook my hand, and had security escort me out within the hour."
"Ick."
"Yes, ick. Ick, ack, and yuck."
"Sounds more non-humane than in-humane. Can't help the economy, you know?"
"Know? I live."
"Right. Well, anyways, unemployed or not--you have to treat people better."
"And if people don't treat me better?"
"That's not what it's about." She slid a blue and gold bookmark into the crease of her book and closed it.