Alex: Reconciliation

"Well, Alexander, it's obvious we need to talk."

"I'm too tired to talk now."
"Running drains a person. You should sit for a while." Anna pulled her fingers through her dark brown hair.
Alex had never been in a situation like this. Anna's concern made him suspicious. Who chases down a stranger? A creep or a saint. Either way, someone off her rocker. "Where would you like to sit?" Alex inquired.
"There's a little park a couple blocks away. It would be good to be outside, don't you think?"
"What park is that?"
"Greenachre Park."
"Never been."
"Then that is where we'll sit and figure you out."
"And then we'll figure you out?"
"Nothing to figure out, Alex."
Incorrect. "We'll see."
The two walked together, Anna slightly ahead, without saying another word. Alex was frequently distracted by the sights and sounds of the sidewalk. As they neared the park, the sound of water crashing into water became more distinct against the ambient noise. Going down a set of concrete steps to a brick patio, the two faced a man-made waterfall and stream flanked by greenery. Anna pulled back one of the two chairs at a round black metal table. The scraping of its feet was barely audible against the roar of the ebullient stream.
"How are we supposed to hear each other down here?" Alex asked in a raised voice.
"It's not so loud. But first you need to calm down, then we can talk. Let me know when you're ready." Anna leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.
What is this? Alex looked closely at Anna's face. She looks serene. Eye-liner. Must not have been a bad day from the start. What is she thinking? Her motionless countenance bored him soon and his eyes began to wonder. This is a nice place. A good use of tax dollars. A little forced, but one has to force nature back in once she's been kicked out. All the same, I should get out of here. Go back home to sleep.
Alex shifted his weight in his seat. Anna's eyes opened at the sound. "You act as though I'm keeping you from something. Where else would you be?" Anna asked loudly.
Alex leaned towards her to speak over the noise. "I'd like to be at home sleeping."
"Sleeping at noon? Long night?"
"I don't sleep well anymore."
"So you sleep poorly around the clock?"
"Around most of the clock. 300 degrees of the clock." His eyes wandered towards a strutting pair of pigeons.
"And the other 60?"
"I eat breakfast and look out a window in my grandfather's condo at the street below."
"Why'd you leave today?"
"Because my grandfather was annoying me."
"He was trying to help, too, eh?"
What is this? Bad idea coming. Was it weakness or curiosity. I need to be free of this. "I cannot be helped, Anna."
Anna drew forward in a confrontational air. "You've been trying to establish that."
"And you've been trying to demolish that." Alex frowned and focused his eyes intensely on Anna's. "What you and my grandfather don't seem to understand is that I don't want your sort of help. I don't want his advice and I don't want your--I don't know what to call it--interest? I don't want tough love or soft love. I don't want pep talks. I don't want to plumb the depths of my soul. I want what I know I cannot have, so what I want next is to not have what I don't want. So I fled my grandfather and I tried to flee you."
"Noted. And how is relieving yourself of the compassion of others supposed to be good for you?"
This is crazy. "Compassion?! If you were actually feeling the same things I am feeling, you would have left me alone to be by yourself. You'd want to pick up the pieces on your own."
"But you can't pick them up. You said you know you can't have what you want--unless you want something other than being well again."
"How is a man supposed to be well when he's under the microscope of critics?"
"I'm hardly a critic. I don't know your grandfather, but judging by how you have responded to me, I'd say he's not either."
"Critics have nothing better to do than to belittle vulnerable people from their ivory towers." Confronting her again with his eyes, Alex said, "There's no danger in being critical."
"You can't be calmed, can you?"
"Is this a hobby of yours?"
"You're evasive."
"And you're nosy. I'm sad and you're bored. The sky is blue and the ground is hard. Definitions don't get you very far. It's like looking in a mirror. Input equals output. You need some principles. Some propositions. Then you can get something other than what you put in. I'll go first. I'll propose that there are two sorts of empty people: people that want to remain empty and people who want to be filled by others. I'll admit that I am in the first category, and you--you're in the second. But you can't take something from nothing, and I have nothing for you. I am not a pet project. A few glib truisms or folksy adages are not going to set me straight because they aren't going to set straight the ways of this world. You, my grandfather, and every other gilded optimist need to face the fact that life is not what you think it is and you cannot make it what you want it to be by convincing us innocent bystanders that crimes are really philanthropic actions in disguise."
"What do you think this is? Do you think I want this to count as my good deed for the day--chasing down an arrogant man to put him in his place? I just wanted to have a nice conversation. First thing this morning my boss called me into his office and told me to pack up my things. He said it was nothing personal. So, I put my pens and pencils, my photos, and the gum I keep in my desk into a box. I dropped the box off and sought solace in a donut shop. Then some shadowy bastard picks my table to invade--of all the tables--while I had retreated into the safehaven of literature. Then I watched you jitter and dart off and I thought, "He has it worse than me. I should go help him." You think that's what a critic thinks before reviewing a book?"
"What makes you think you can help me?"
"What makes you think you can hurt me? I was looking to be of some assistance, but think of me what you will. I won't tell you off. I won't get up. I'll keep sitting here. It's on you to run off again. You've got to face facts sooner or later, though."
Anna watched Alex think. Again? "Take this thing on." "Face the facts." How have I tried to get away at all? I am living it. Rotting, rotting as the world continues on. I was something and now I am not. No one will listen. I cannot be helped. Did I try to hurt her though? Only to be left alone. Is that what I want? No. I want the past back. 6 months ago." Alex felt a wave of frustration crash over him. Pathetic to snivel this way. Have I no pride? Too much pride--that's why I snivel. A boy with a popped balloon on a string in his hand. She's done nothing wrong. Neither has Ernest. I should give her a chance. "I'm sorry. Sorry for being abrasive. I only meant earlier to take a napkin without bothering you."
"Didn't you think if you asked, you could've started something good? A little friendly banter, a smile? Wouldn't that push against the momentum of your day?"
"Right, right. Let's move on. I said I was sorry."
"Yes, you did. Accepted. Now, relax." Anna leaned back in her chair and felt a sprinkle of mist strike her cheek.

Alex: Pursuit

"What's it about? Selflessness? Saintliness? Martyrdom? I'm not interested in sacrificing for others. I have sacrificed enough. I have studied hard, worked conscientiously--I used to stay late to do pro-bono work--and others--OTHERS--have reaped all the benefits and not so much as left me the threshing floor scraps." Alex paused after reading the concern in his companion's eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't even know your name. It's been a while since I spoke with anyone besides my grandfather." Feeling bashful, Alex rose from his seat, placed his notebook in his left pocket, and apologized again.

"Where are you going? Aren't you going to ask my name? What about our competition?"
"I don't know. I don't want to know you. I changed my mind." He walked swiftly towards the door, leaving a nub of donut on the young woman's table.
"You haven't learned your lesson!" the woman yelled.

Although he heard her, he did not turn around. Sounded stupid. Bellyaching. Blathering. It wasn't even cathartic. It was embarrassing. What good could have possibly come from talking to someone?

Alex huffed along the sidewalk, darting around other pedestrians.Where to go? No place worth going to. Want to disappear. Want to be asleep. Nothingness. Grandpa's? Bah. No money. No car. Stranded. On an island. I am an island. This man is an island. Sinking. Sunken. A car stereo interrupted his thinking. The tinny sound of soft rock unnerved Alex further. Turn it down! Turn it down! Pay to get the a/c fixed and roll up the windows! Attacked--I am being audibly attacked. Tweeter shot treble-arrows. Others--these are your others. Inconsiderate, unaware, cattle chewing their pre-digested cud and crapping out the preferences of celebrities and the opinions of the supposed authorities. Ron Paul and Che Guevara. Paul and Guevara! Really!(Two months prior, Alex had observed a sky blue car with a bumper sticker for the libertarian and the communist sharing space on the same peeling bumper.)What is wrong with these people? Hardly anyone thinks for themselves, but they all think they do.

Alex was dealt a glancing blow on the arm by the shoulder of a shorter man hustling in the opposite direction. Absorbing the collision without altering his course, he continued his quick pace.

A familiar voice from behind entered his ears. "Hey! Stop! Mr. Napkin--stop!" Slightly out of breath, the young woman from Dan's Donuts placed her hand on the same shoulder that had just been hit. Alex spun around and looked contemptuously at his pursuer.

"What?"
"Never leave a person in a bad way."
"What?"
"Another lesson for you." She smiled. "You win, okay? You've had it harder than me. Anyone who darts off like you did must have had it hard for a while. What's wrong with you?"
Shame rose within Alex. What is she doing here? She followed me? Probably crazy, too.
"Nothing is wrong with me. I made a fool of myself and I didn't stay around for the aftermath. Sounds reasonable to me."
"Foolishness is fleeing from aid--amongst other things. We were going to lighten each other's days a bit with a little conversation and you left me more frustrated than when we began. I'll not stand for it."
"You're full of one-liners, aren't you?"
"Truth is brief."
"Exhibit C."
"I'm not going to alter the way I communicate for you. I can't help it if I'm full of profundities." Her smile was persistent and aimed at disarming him.
"Why did you follow me?"
"Because I am a curious person. A man who storms out of a donut shop after being invited to sit by a pretty young woman like myself must have an interesting story."
"Forgive me for not satiating your curiosity, but I refuse to be the subject of an experiment," Alex stated sternly.
"Who said anything about experiments? I was only trying to help by..."
"Prying."
"No. By showing concern."
"You have no reason to be concerned for me."
"Exactly."
"If your after a letter of recommendation for sainthood, I haven't got the time." Alex moved away.
"Are you made of stone? Calm down...what is your name?"
"What's it to you?"
"Stop it already. If you didn't really want to talk with me, you would never have turned around. I'll start. My name is Anna."
She's caught me. It's true. I am lonely.
"My name is Alexander."

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.