bigwickerdynamite

[bigwickerdynamite]

Fingerless Gloves and Tailor-Made Suits

Lisa sat opposite Jermaine. His body was held tightly together as he sat, nervous and sick, holding his breath in anticipation for the news Lisa was bound to deliver.

“I just can’t see a way around this”, she uttered. Her demeanour spoke more than her words ever could. Her arms were clumsily positioned on the table that separated her and Jermaine. Her shoulders were slumped and her eyes barely acknowledged his presence.

Jermaine felt his body almost close in on itself as he did not allow himself to breathe, still in anticipation of Lisa’s next words. Her fingers tapped on the table with no rhythm before she decided to speak once more.

“We’ll have to let you go”.

Jermaine let himself breathe again and as he did he found himself releasing all the tension that had been building up these past few days. With his tension went his hopes and dreams, along with his happiness, pride and purpose. It was now a shell of a man that remained in the meeting room. Breathing and thinking nonsense thoughts with an absent mind but not much more.

He had been working within the company for the past 15 years. He started in filing and had climbed the corporate ladder to where he was now. With the good comes the bad and as his salary increased so did his notoriety. He made both powerful friends and powerful enemies and with that came a transparent lifestyle.

“Naturally you can count on our discretion”, said Lisa.

Jermaine still remained silent as he stood to leave the room. He took a final look at Lisa but any expression was covered by the light of the slowly setting sun which shrouded her features. She was no one, as Jermaine was soon to become.

*

Peter was on the street as he had been his whole life. Born under a bridge to a heroin addicted mother and no idea who his father was. He had chosen his own name when he old enough to understand what words were. No last name, just Peter. He had been alone his entire life, no friends other than his shadow and even that he thought tried to escape him at times. He knew who he was but nobody else did. To the world he was no one.

He shivered as he rubbed his hands together, his fingerless gloves useless against the cold. He listened to the birds singing whilst slowly watching the sun begin to set. He wrapped his arms around his knees and rocked gently on the wet pavement.

He was familiar with this spot now. He sat outside of a small corner shop just on the outskirts of the city. People would give him change as they left with their items. There was a bridge and a pub 30 seconds down the road so drunk people would also normally give him some money on their way home.

He tried to maintain a positive outlook on life but had recently found himself growing more and more cynical of people the longer he sat in the same spot. He was annoyed at their reluctance to acknowledge their entitlement to everything but utilising nothing. Despite his internal aggressions there was nowhere else he could go. Here he never ran into trouble, he had shelter, easy access to food and most importantly he was close to Nina.

As the night drew in he checked his empty coffee cup and saw he had enough to buy some food. Before getting up to enter the store he rest his head back on the way and looked up at the sky. It was full of dark clouds which in turn were full of rain that began to fall and drench the sidewalk.

*

Everything at Jermaine’s desk was already packed. 15 years compacted into a frail box. He received stares, nods and sympathetic smiles as he descended from the 5th floor to the exit.

The cold of the autumns evening hit Jermaine as he stepped outside onto the empty street and with the cold came the daunting realisation of what had just happened. With nowhere he could go and no one he could turn to in this uncertain time he hurried off the street, got behind the wheel of his car and screamed. It was the first noise he could remember making all day and he would not be surprised if it was his last.

Jermaine sat, overwhelmed by the uncertainty of his future. He searched internally for any form of plan and found nothing. He proceeded to take steeper steps into his already fragile mind and still there was nothing clear but one word.

It had been popping up in his subconscious in preparation of today but he had never considered it seriously. It had always presented itself as a quiet voice in the distance, right at the back of his mind. These past few days the voice had been getting louder and whoever it belonged to was getting closer and closer. Every word he had ever known seemed to have vanished, and he navigated his thoughts so he could find them once more but the more he wandered the more his heart sank and with every second the distant voice grew louder and louder. It’s origin now seemed so close he could feel it breathing down his neck. There was silence and breathing and the constant uttering of one word. Over and over and over.

Jermaine started the car giving into the voice. His journey unknown. His destination clear.

*

Peter felt the eyes of shoppers pass over him as he walked the aisles looking for a cheap meal. He found himself growing angrier at peoples obvious presumptions that were clear on their faces. They think I’m crazy. They think I’m an addict. Ignoring the wavering stares he continued to browse.

He grabbed a sandwich, crisps and a drink before heading to the till. Nina was working. She scanned his items with the usual smile brushed across her freckled face. Her long brown hair was tied back so every expression could be seen so much better and Peter was all the more grateful for it.

She wasn’t like everybody else. She worked behind the till in this small shop and her job was as expected. She scanned items and stacked shelves but she was grateful for every second. She never said it and nor did she have to. It was present in her voice, her smile and the way she whistled cheerfully when she wasn’t engaged in pleasant conversation. She was in love with the world and Peter was in love with her for it.

“Hey Pete!”, she said.

“Hi”.

Peter began to leave and as the automatic doors opened he heard her voice again.

“See you tomorrow!” He clung onto her words and took them with him as he stepped into the pouring rain.

*

Jermaine had stopped feeling the cold. His arms were numb and his face was frozen into an unchanging mournful expression. He could hear the noise of rushing water coming from below him but not much else. Even the voice in his head was absent now.

He felt momentary warmth thanks to the presence of a single tear that slowly trickled down his cheek. It caressed his face and as it ran towards his chin he realised it was the first thing he had felt in days. A life where his only relief from a constant melancholy was the momentary introduction of sorrow seemed trivial and his proposed actions were all the more justified.

With that tear came a deal more. They were indistinguishable from the rain and as he broke down people passed by and ignored him. He could see the orange sun through his tearful eyes and in the distance a storm of clouds which were sure to engulf it.

*

Peter’s usual space outside the shop had been taken. He wandered over the bridge that led to the pub and in doing so saw the man in the suit. Despite his close proximity he was as distant as ever. He looked out from the bridge and into the distance conveying no sign of emotion. There was no sorrow or joy, there was simply him. His face was wet from the falling rain and yet he made no effort to dry it. All that moved was his hands as they shivered, a loose grip on the metal railing.

“Are you okay sir?” Asked Peter. His approach cautious. He did not trust someone showing so little. He was hard to read as there was nothing to read. He was the ghost of a millionaire who was lost in the cold.

“Are you alright sir? Are you lost?”

“I…” began the man in the suit, his words trembling in the freezing cold, “I don’t know who I am anymore”.

No response and in a state on confusion Peter opened his crisps and offered him one. Instead of acknowledging the offer the man in the suit wept out loud and climbed onto the railing of the bridge.

*

The rain fell heavier and the clouds grew darker as they moved effortlessly through the sky. They swallowed the sun and the work fell dark. Jermaine looked for an opening in the clouds but there was none. All there was was the darkness, wind and rain.

The water ran quicker and current carried his hope across a stream of hours until there was nothing left but the dissolving fragments of who he once was. He glanced up one final moment in a final search for sunlight but still saw nothing.

The world fell silent and he prepared himself. Breathing in one final time and no intention of breathing out.

*

The weather was near enough torrential as Nina navigated her way through the streets. The trees looked the same as they had done years ago and she was overcome with nostalgia. She looked into the shop window of where she used to work and smiled.

With her umbrella close to folding in on itself she didn’t go inside and continued over the bridge to meet her friends. As she walked she saw a man stood there on his own, he was well dressed and sad, gazing into the distance with unfocused eyes. She recognised his face but could not pick where from. She did not click until she was next to him.

“Oh my word! Peter?” She asked excited.

There was no response and so she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder which brought him out of his trance. He looked at her and he had been crying. She could not separate his tears from the rain but the red in his eyes made it obvious.

“Nina?” He asked, unsure it was her.

“Yes! You look amazing! I love your suit!” She said, seeming more excited. Her reassuring hand remaining on his shoulder, “are you alright?”

���Yes, yes I’m fine sorry”, he wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeve, “its just been a long day”.

“Well, I’m meeting some friends for a drink now but why don’t we meet up tomorrow? We can get a coffee and you can tell me about how you ended up in a fancy looking suit like that?”

A shallow smile fluttered across Peter’s face. His teeth were white and straight, clearly fake, yet the joy expressed in their appearance was genuine.

“I’d like that’, he said.

The two of them exchanged numbers and Nina went on her way. Peter stood on the bridge. Still smiling.

*

Peter reflected on his words to Nina. He was happy to see her and realised he hadn’t done so for 15 years. Right near this very spot.

He still remembered the man in the suit. The distance in his eyes and his voice and the blood he choked on following his jump. The river was more of a shallow canal that night and its current was not strong enough to move his body. Instead he remained, motionless, breathless. His tailor made suit ruined yet its contents in tact.

Peter had thought about getting help. About going back into the corner shop and asking Nina, or flagging down a car and calling an ambulance. He looked around but there was no one there. No one had seen the man jump or acknowledged him prior.

He remembers the events of that night like they were yesterday. He remembers the slippery descent into the canal and the warm feel of the mans corpse in the cold night. He remembers reaching into his deep pockets and recovering his wallet and house keys. He remembers opening the wallet and seeing the man was called Jermaine. He had his address, with no wedding ring on his finger and no photos of children in his wallet Peter left the body for somebody else to find.

He went to the house, took a bath, put on fresh pyjamas and slept in the dead mans bed. He was uneasy at first, ready for the moment someone would walk through the door, be it a partner or a friend but no one came and Peter slept.

He wore Jermaine’s clothes the next day. He sold his possessions and used the money to rent his own smaller flat. He rented the flat using Jermaine’s name and found himself changing every time he referred to himself as such. He got his own ID with Jermaine’s name and found work as a filing clerk in a large office. It was easy now he had an address. He said he had been travelling, hence his lack of employment history and when people asked where he gave vague answers.

15 years later he was here. Jobless once more and on the verge of doing what the real Jermaine had done previously. He would have done were it not for Nina. He remembered her and how she made him feel and that in turn helped him remember other things. He could have a bath once he got home and could sleep in his comfy bed. He was suddenly so overwhelmed with joy and understood this feeling would not be present were it not for the sorrow that pre-existed that very moment.

The other Jermaine had his chance, he was not going to waste his. He admired the flowers which grew on the river bank despite the absence of light. He agreed that should these flowers grow then so would he. Here was to the next 15 years and the understanding that there is no difference between the fingerless gloves he used to wear and the tailor made suits he does now. There is only the identity that accompanies them.

[bigwickerdynamite]