The Forgetting of Sad

Awake, Awake.

Jethro poured water on the plant until it bubbled up through the dirt. Its leaves were wilted but green. His small apartment had nothing living but the plant, himself, and forgotten leftovers. “What do you do with the water I wonder?” Jethro asked the plant, who looked demurely back at Jethro, but didn’t say anything.

He grabbed his backpack which had loose threads hanging from the straps and bottom. The elevator gate slammed shut, and kachunked kachunked as it passed each of the six levels below him.

New York screamed at him. The chorus of sirens and horns felt like home. He sailed on his bike down avenues and up streets. Jethro wore loose jeans and an untucked button down shirt. He docked at a small coffee shop that was hidden in an alley. Three people were in line. All of them pressed their phone’s screen and they flashed, black white black white black white. A fake, dusty plant sat in the corner and welcomed dead skin flakes and dirt to its leaves. The barista cracked her shalak on the counter at Jethro.

“Yes, I’d like just a cup of coffee.”

“Sorry, what? Did you say cappuccino?”

“Er, no thank you. Just coffee. Thanks.”

The girl looked at him with dead eyes, back up at the menu and again at Jethro, “Coffee,” she said slowly, seeing it there.

She shook herself, “Sorry sir, I’ll have that right up for you.”

After getting out of line Jethro rubbed his clean chin absentmindedly and ran his hand through his dark hair. He straightened his posture for a moment and forgot about it again and slouched.

When he got into work he took his lunch and found room in the break room refrigerator by removing someone else’s. In his lunch was an energy drink, chicken, and fruit that he would decide he didn’t want and then throw away.

Before he sat down he looked around in the ocean of cubicles, surveyed someone else’s kingdom. He noticed a flash of blonde hair doing the same as him. A mermaid, elusive and rare. His desk phone rang. She dove and was swallowed by the sea. Jethro searched a few rows but everyone was dead in their seats. “Morning Jeth.” Someone mumbled at him.

He replied in kind.

Jethro drug his feet back to his desk and sat down. On his desk, besides the monitor was a spring loaded grey button. The screen flashed whenever he pressed the button. The more the screen flashed, the less his boss yelled at him.

His phone rang again, “Jethro! You’re late again. I noticed you have only been working since ten seconds ago!” the boss man snarled.

“Yes, sir. Sorry sir.”

“No apologies!”

“Yes sir.”

“Don’t call me sir!”

“Sorry ma’am.”

“Sir is preferable to ma’am!” He shouted

“Yes sir.”

“Back to work!” His boss shouted and slammed the phone down.

“Yes sir.” Jethro said to the dial tone.

Jethro hung up the phone and rested his head in his hand and methodically pressed the grey button. He nearly fell asleep as the clock worked at its job, ticking and tocking.

Jethro’s mind paced back and forth in his mind’s small confines. It tried to wander but Bill needed to get paid. Bill took most of Jethro’s money in return for a place to sleep, food to eat, electricity, and internet to help forget all of the money he gave away.

But then Jethro’s heart was suddenly in his throat, thump-thumping, thump-thumping. He looked up and started to actually see his cubicle. To see the stitch that covered the wall’s nakedness. He was awake.

He called his boss.

“What!” His boss shouted, Jethro thought he might not know how else to be.

“Can I have two buttons instead of one. And if I finish my work early, can I leave?”

“What would you do with two instead of one!?”

“I don’t know if it’ll work but I would like to try.”

Jethro’s boss thought for a second, and then shouted, “I hate to ask my boss who isn’t nearly as nice as I am!”

His boss hung up.

“Yes sir,” Jethro said into the dial tone.

He clicked the grey button again and his screen slowly flickered in response.

“Was this why I tried so hard in school?” Jethro wondered, eyes dimming, and then caught himself, “No!” He shouted.

He hadn’t intended to say it aloud. The cubicles around him were silent and then feverishly clicked to make up for lost time. Late into the evening he worked to make up for lost time. Like always, he wasn’t ever able to catch up.

Bill had written him a letter and asked if he needed a new car. Jethro didn’t. Bill told him if he had to ask again it could cost more. Bill promised Jethro happiness, or at least the forgetting of sad. Jethro politely declined. Bill had lied before. He would again. Bill asked “if only, if only, then you would be happy?”

Jethro’s mind meandered towards the mermaid, the rare, the elusive.

After work, he untethered his bike and paddled away from work. A sea of black and pinpricks of light. He waded through honking horns and neon signs that invited wary sailors to try their wares. More Bills invited young men, still wet behind the ears boys who had not seen the siren lies for what they were. They might never learn.

His plant’s leaves were less withered. Jethro sat on his couch and hoped to see Her again.

In the morning, the rain pittered and pattered on his window pane. It spat and splot and raced down to where he could only see the contrails from the beads. He started the coffee and listened to the machine sigh as it percolated. When he looked at the time he only had time to take one large gulp before leaving for work.

There were two buttons on his desk.

He heard himself laugh, a noise that had never dared show up in his cubicle. He started working furiously. And then his heart started beating in his throat again. Like a far off war drum growing closer and rattling his bones. A knot tightened in his stomach and then relaxed completely. Everything stopped. He heard the silence. No buttons clicked around him. He could not hear the hum-drum of the fluorescent bulbs above. him.

Jethro stopped working.

“Hello.” The blonde girl said from behind him.

Jethro turned around and looked at her. He had dreamt of her. He introduced himself and asked her name.

“What are you looking for?” She asked.

Jethro couldn’t see anything but her hair. It was gold like he had never seen. The fullness of it found him dumb.

“I’m looking for you!”

“But you aren’t. I’m not your fantasy. I’m real skin and bones. I have bad and good days. I pass gas and get things stuck in my teeth. I complain and doubt myself. And I have goals that can’t be fulfilled in a relationship.”

“Oh.” Jethro said.

“And I just noticed,” She went on, but he cut her off.

“Me noticing you,” He said.

“-Yeah, I just didn’t want you to get your hopes up.”

“I didn’t. I don’t want any of that. I wanted a friend.

“Good—”

“—Bye.” Jethro said and turned back to his monitor. As he worked, his monitor started flashing quickly. He closed his eyes and the flashes turned deep red.

His phone rang, “Hey Jethro!”

“Hello, sir.” He said to his boss.

“Hey! You’ve done twice as much work as everyone else. Go home early!”

“Yes, sir.” Jethro said dejectedly. His heart had sunk. This was what he wanted but now that he had it, vanity vanity. Everything is a chasing after the wind. More time. More money. But for what? What was the point. He could hear his boss, waiting for the appreciation Jethro should have been able to express, but he couldn’t.

“And have some more money!”

“Okay.”

“Enjoy yourself this weekend!” His boss shouted, confused. There was a pregnant pause, which both of them let go. His boss didn’t want to ask what was wrong and Jethro didn’t want to explain. His boss hung up.

“Yes sir.” Jethro said to the dialtone.