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Done

Liam Spencer

    Finally the day was coming to an end. The truck carried the pain and exhaustion of the battered body back to the station to face the hells due. Pain raced from his left foot and ankle all the way up to the base of his skull. He had given his all, again, and knew he had more and more hells to pay for doing so.
    It had all caught up with him. The years of busting ass, doing what he had to do. Back in the day, he had slept on concrete and on buses (when he had the money), while working day labor, hell bent on building a life. He had succeeded, in that he found gainful employment, went back to college, and eventually finished, only to be shut out of grad school by the Republican wet dream of destroying Capitalist Democracy (AKA Liberalism).
    He thought back of himself back then, and smiled. So young. So driven. Hopeful. Idealistic. Far from the jaded, battered, beaten man he now was. The him of old would never stand for the shit he now faced. He wondered how much more he had in him.
    His was a historic period. The only Liberal nation on earth was converting to Feudalism, AKA Conservatism. Soon would be the cyclical shift between right feudalism, Corporatism, and left feudalism, Socialism. Landmark change. Forever. Social mobility was rapidly becoming a joke. The joke that was now on him.
    He thought back on it all, questioning his original decision to leave his rural hometown. Back there men worked their guts out until becoming disabled and then depended on disability and welfare for the rest of their lives, while they had like four or five children with three different women, then sat around sipping shitty beers and making sure their kids followed in their footsteps.
    He had faced Tracy Chapman’s famous line; “Leave tonight or live and die this way...”
    He had left.
    Now he was following that path anyway, but, thankfully, had no children to subject to his miseries. The one decision he never regretted was getting snipped. The best birth control possible. It had made him nearly an inch longer, and allowed him to last longer. If he ever decided to have kids, three grand could reverse it.
    His chest tightened as the station neared. There would be hells to pay. He had hobbled on one good leg as fast as he possibly could, sweat rolling off him, and was to catch hells for it. His working career was nearing the end, and he knew it. He just couldn’t do it anymore.
    To be fair, though, not many could. No matter how fast, it was impossible to meet the demanded numbers. Everyone faced hell daily, but especially him, as he was, let’s face it, disabled. They had chewed him up, and were hoping to spit him out.
    The lot was mostly full. He was among the last to finish. He was fucked. The truck found it’s way to it’s spot, number thirty seven. The door slid open. Pain shot immediately through him as his feet hit the parking lot.
    “FUCK!”
    Same old Liam.
    The back door slid open with a dramatic bang, as his beaten body grabbed the tub of outgoing mail, then hobbled inside, faster, faster FASTER!
    The outgoing slid into the hamper. Clerks and other carriers looked at him with pity. They knew. They knew.
    “Mercer!!! Why you so late?!!”
    “Let me get the outgoing done first, ok.”
    “NO! TELL ME. WHY SO LATE?!
    “I went as fast as I could. I gotta move.”
    “Clock to office time. You have five minutes.”
    He hobbled to get the outgoing parcels. Priority. Faster, faster, FASTER!
    After dumping them into the hamper, he clocked out. The rest of his work would be for free.
    “Mercer! Why you so late?”
    “I’m off the clock, working for free. You can yell at me tomorrow, when the stewards are here.”
    “You getting smart with me? I’m writing you up! Come on.”
    “Not without a steward.”
    The supe walked away, cussing as he stormed off.
    Liam slowly worked at his case. He was off the clock. No lunch was had. And extra half hour of work to do. An hour of free work, daily, and there were still hells.
    His old Honda CRV needed to warm up before being driven home. It was as beaten up as he was. He thought of the case of cold beer that awaited him. It was his lone pleasure remaining. There was no chance for dating, etc. He was simply too exhausted and beaten. Who would have him anyway, when he was reduced to this?

    He lucked out. There was someone leaving a great parking spot as he pulled up. He smiled for the first time all day. There wouldn’t be a long walk to his apartment after all. A little bit rested, he was able to hobble a bit faster.
    There was a woman standing outside his building. She was a little large, tall, about his height. Hardly unusual. As he got closer, she looked more familiar. Could it be her?
    She faced the building, so he could only see half of her face. She was glowing through her tears. It was her.
    “Stephanie? You ok?”
    She turned toward him. Her young face glowing as tears streamed.
    “Liam... I know. I... This is weird, I know, but is there any way I can come inside and see the apartment one last time?”
    He glanced around quickly, then relaxed.
    “Sure.”
    “Thank you so much...” Her voice cracked.
    He opened the doors, and let her lead the way. As soon as she entered the place, her face lit up even more. Sentimentalities tend to do that.“I don’t have any wine, but I do have beer. Would you like some?”
    “Really? Can I? After all I did...”
    “Of course. When someone is down... Always be quick to forgive. Be the person you want to be...all that stuff. Have a seat. Relax.”
    She sat her slightly bigger frame down on the old couch, and began beaming as she eyed the classic apartment.
    It was here that her journey of a million miles had begun, from rural Kentucky to Seattle. She had arrived in rags, twenty two, but nowhere near sweet and innocent. Borderline Personality Disorder, well earned. A tough life with too many strikes. Dangerous, but beautiful in her own ways...the struggle for better began there, in that old, classic apartment.
    He handed her a beer, than sat down at his computer desk with his own.
    “Liam, do you mind if we don’t talk for a while? Just sit there, pretending I’m not here. I want to remember...”
    “Sure. I understand. I have to catch up on some things anyway.”
    They sat in silence. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her glowing through her tears. It almost made him cry. He had meant something to her after all.
    His hells were suddenly far away. If need be, he could call off the next day. He was union, after all. This seemed so important, somehow. There will always be money and (hopefully) employment, but there won’t always be life.
    “Thank you so much for allowing me to be in here again. I was afraid you’d say no.”
    “I think you knew I would. I did have to look around to make sure there weren’t guys ready to jump me again, though.”
    He laughed. They had scurried off when they saw him back then. He was not one to fuck with.
    “Yeah, Sorry for all that. You didn’t deserve any of it.”
    “Water under bridges. So, what is going on? Last I heard from you was you were living all the way out in like some suburban hell, working as a waitress, and six months pregnant.”
    “Yeah... My son’s name is Timothy. Drew left me. He’ll pay a little child support, but I can’t afford to stay here and raise a child. We’re moving back to Kentucky. My mom already took Tim back there. I’m just wrapping things up here.”
    “Wow. Sorry to hear. I really thought you’d make it. It makes sense though. It’s much cheaper back there.”
    “Yeah.”
    She kept mixing her teary eyed glances around the apartment with looking straight down and allowing tears to drip down onto her large, drooping boobs. She was broken.
    “How long do you have?”
    “A few days. I leave Sunday.”
    “Do you have a place to stay?”
    “Yeah, kind of, but it’s all the way out in Marysville, and they don’t want me there. It’s just pity.”
    “Then stay here. You started out here, so why not end here? We can catch up and laugh again. More memories.”
    “Really? I mean, after all I did? You’d allow me?”
    “Yeah. You’ve been through a lot. We’ll end this chapter as we started it.”
    “Thank you so much...I just....I am so sorry for everything....”
    “Just relax. Make yourself at home like the old days. Believe it or not, you’ve been missed.”
    “I gotta go get my suitcase. It’s in the bushes outside.”
    “Holy shit! I hope it’s still there! I’ll come with you.”
    It was still there. They wheeled it inside, straight to the bedroom, then sat down with new beers. Every word she said was through tears.
    “None of this would be happening if I had stayed with you. This is all my fault. You gave me all the opportunity, and I screwed you over. If I had it to do over again...Now it’s right back to Kentucky, forever.”
    “Any of us can say the same. If I had to do it all over again.... Besides, you did build a life here, from scratch. It wasn’t all my giving to you. You worked your ass off, and succeeded. It was you that went to work every day and busted your ass, right? I mean, so many people wouldn’t have, but you did. You managed to impress me, and that isn’t easy.”
    “But then, I screwed you over, and gave it all away, and ruined my life. What I could have had...”
    “First, you’re being too hard on yourself. You got conned by some guy. Not the first. Won’t be the last. Second, you’re now stronger and wiser. You did it once. You can do it again. Third, I haven’t exactly done well myself. Workers comp sucked, and now I am disabled. I’m not sure where I end up. Really. My career and working days are about to end. I could be on the streets again.”
    A sharp look. Speechlessness.
    “Yeah.”
    “But...look, we can wallow all we want, but...you know what? All we’re going to be left with is memories at the end anyway, so this is an opportunity, really. Let’s relive our great times, and, hell, make more great times, right? The chance is ours now.”
    New beers cracked. It took a while, but she began laughing. Her pot helped. She was stocked well. Time flew. Laughs echoed. Soon it was midnight. He heard her crying herself to sleep while he drifted away on the couch.
    The cruelty of the alarm hit at five am. He was grateful for the hangover. It would help him through the day of hells.

    “Don’t say anything. Let us talk for you, ok?”
    “Yeah, ok.”
    “Mercer! Office. NOW!”
    Every question was met by “I have been advised by my steward to say nothing.”
    Management was furious.
    “We’re done with you!”
    He hobbled quickly back to his case. Clerks and carriers sadly shook their heads, their eyes glazed over. Slowly, comraderies began again, laughters rising, as he worked feverishly.
    “I don’t get it, Mercer. Really, you’re the fastest caser here. Your office times are the best. What is going on?”
    “I hobble as fast as I can. I work so hard, and even for free. I do all I can.”
    “Go on comp and stay there. We don’t want you here.”
    The words hurt. They were true. He was done. Forty two. Clerks and other carriers looked on with welled eyes. It was a matter of time. Once one of the best, he was now among the weakest of the herd.
    The day was done. Rather than reflect on miseries, he wondered what he was going home to. Would she be there? Did she clear him out? If so, hopefully she at least left his prized fedora and old coffee maker. It was a Bunn, after all, the fastest and the best.
    Nothing was missing, except her. Did she leave early? Was this all too painful for her? He thought back. He was old enough to be her dad, and she, at times, seemed to think he was, saying he was similar, too similar, except that her dad had died from painkiller OD, and Liam hated pills of all kinds.
    Her world back in KY had been of addictions and deaths and abuses. It’s what made her dangerous. He was dangerous in raising hells, and getting into absurdities. She was dangerous as in potential murder, fully capable of it.
    He thought back to poetry readings. She was a better poet than he. One of the best he had heard. It was from pain, and, thus, she wasn’t interested back then. Her poems were beautifully threatening, frightening...hating being a female, hating and mistrusting males. Perhaps rightfully so, yet she made exception for him, to a point. He remembered being fearful of her, and wondering what he had gotten himself into back then. However, with all she had been through, and was facing, she at least deserved to have a good send off, and they did have great times together.
    Soon, she came bounding in, her face bright and cute, her backpack full.
    “I bought beer and wine and some food. Don’t lift a finger. It’s my time to repay you a little.”
    “But...but...you’re..”
    “Liam, just shut up and enjoy, ok? For once?”
    “Ok. Thank you.”
    They took to talking and laughing, carrying on as they had years ago.
    Then it began. She walked up to him as he sat on his chair. The look, that look, was on her face. She straddled around him, lowering her boobs to his face, her hands caressing his hair as he took her clothed nipples into his mouth.
    “This is something I wanted to do for so long. If not for Drew’s shit...”
    It didn’t take long before her bra and shirt were off. Pants and panties hit the floor with seductive silence.
    The hell with dinner. It was in full swing. Caresses and moans led to screams. Round after round. Marathons. Breaks to sip were brief. The sound of colliding bodies broken only by high pitch screams, firework orgasms. Her grip was amazing. Everything was amazing. It had been building for years.
    The alarm hit. Work was called off. The day was spent in repeated explosions. The right exhaustions in all the right ways. One for the ages. Memories.
    They laid there, their sweat covered bodies cuddled and slowly cooling. The blanket then covered them tightly. Her soft snore was just enough to remind him how much he had missed this kind of thing. It had been so long. Work had taken over. It was nowhere near as good. Work was the wrong kind of fucking.
    He looked at her. The poor dear. She had never had a chance, really. Why do things have to suck so bad? She had all the potential. Smart, hardworking, driven. Surely there were better ways. Surely there should be opportunities.
    Opportunities for what, though? Suffering? Workaholisms? Poverty? Wealth? Where does anything get you, really?
    It was then that it hit him. Opportunities to do exactly what he was doing, right then, at that moment. Holding someone close after just making love. Ultimately, that’s what everything is about, when boiled down.
    He had been a fool. He had worked himself into nothingness for what a fucked up society and a rigged economy demands, and he had played right into it, becoming disabled in the process. Now he had nothing but hells to pay.
    And so did she.
    But for that moment, that glorious moment, as the sweat dried, all was right, somehow, as the shared heat, ultimately from dead animals, was held tightly by the thick blanket, as the food they had eaten brewed into the morning shit, as the suffering and death from around the world built and built...there they were...
    There, enthralled in the last moments of a dying love, of themselves, between themselves, of life, of dreams, of dying dreams, of living and dying...

    The morning meant a kiss, an awakening. She glowed as he held her. Their times were fading fast. Making love one last time was so bitter sweet, bringing both to tears. It was the last they could ever have.
    He knew her well. As soon as she got out of bed, she would compartmentalize. She’d already be gone...forever.
    “Another five minutes. Just that, ok?”
    “Ok.”
    They held each other tightly. He kissed her shoulder.
    “No, Liam. I’m just too sore. Sorry.”
    “Ok.”
    Soon, nature called. She got up. It was as if someone flipped a switch. She was gone. He put the blankets over her spot in the bed, to preserve her body heat from moments ago.
    She came back into the bedroom and began getting dressed. Her face was colder already. He got up and made coffee.
    Not many words were said until she sat down to pack a bowl.
    “I know you’re against drinking and driving, but would you consider having one last beer, so I can see you sit there with it? Like you always did?”
    “Sure. We have time. But first...”
    He went to his backpack, and pulled out two bottles of decent red.
    “I’m sending one with you. Someday, let’s each drink our bottles together. We can plan it. Ok?”
    “I’d like that.”
    He sat there with his bottle of Miller. She sat there sipping box wine. Not a word was spoken. The TV played it’s mindlessness, as it tends to do.
    She was packed and ready, and they went. Just like when she arrived, she stayed silent for the most part. He would begin conversation, she would engage, then trail off in midsentence. He exhaled.
    The airport wasn’t busy. He pulled up.
    “Just stay here. I got it.”
    “No last hug, even?”
    “Ok.”
    He got out, walked around the car, and put his arms around her. She didn’t hug back.
    He walked around to the driver side, and watched as she walked into the building, disappearing into the crowd. He was alone again.
    “Have a great life, Stephanie.”
    A car behind him honked.
    “Yeah, yeah.”
    The ride home was brief. Parking was available, thankfully. He looked around the empty, dead apartment. Gone was the laughter, the love, the experiences. Had it actually happened?
    He wondered about his life as he went to the fridge for another beer. After all this, what now? Was he to be outside again? After such a struggle, such a life? Had he at least meant something?
    There were the hells awaiting him the next day, after all.
    Reaching into fridge, there was paper wrapped around his beer.
    “What the hell?”
    An envelope was rubberbanded around his next beer. It was marked “Liam.”
    He cracked open both the beer and envelope, and sipped heavily.
    “Liam, I cannot find the words to ever thank you for all you did for me. Rightfully, I should have been on the streets or never left KY, but you took me in and built me up. I owe you so much, yet cannot repay you in a thousand lifespans. You and my dad were the only men who treated me well. I’ll never forget what you did for me, even when everyone else let me down. I’ll never forget you.
    I know I said that if I had stayed with you instead of Drew, I could have had it so good, but, in truth, I can’t do what you did or do. Not everyone can do that. No one I have ever known can do what you have done. If only you had half the confidence in yourself as you had in me, you’d be unstoppable. Please never forget what you’ve accomplished, just as I can never forget what you did for me.
    I stashed the bottle of wine you gave me in your closet. It was a sweet gestor, but I need to try to forget everything, and get back to being myself. I’m KY again. I never should have left. Your world is too damn demanding.
    For what it’s worth, I did and do love you, but could not be with you. You pay too many dues. Too many hells. My life is here now.
    Please stop doubting yourself. You’re tougher than anyone I’ve known. No one can do what you’ve done. You still have it. You always made me feel so good about myself, and that was hard to do. You always saw more in me than I did. But things are what they are, and I cannot live as you do.
    Thanks for everything!
    Stephanie”

    It all came flooding back to me. I had lived the remarkable. I had done this and that, and the other too. I felt great, for once. Thank you Stephanie!

    I walked into work the next day as if I owned the place. I talked and laughed with other carriers, for once. Laughter filled the station.

    Then I got fired, and went home.
    The beer awaited. It was the only thing waiting for me, far from hells, but far away from a cute young, dangerous, tormented woman with so much potential.
    And I knew that I, too, was done.

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