Haven't We Met - Charlie

4. Charlie

Charlie walked home, as he did every morning after his visit to the diner. Forty-five years on the night shift ruined sleep for him. Forty-five years on the night shift ruined everything for him. Now ten years into a forced retirement, he still lived as if he were on the night shift. He woke up every night at ten, after a solid eight hours of sleep. Light-blocking curtains and ear plugs simulated the dark and quiet of night. He ate breakfast at midnight every day. Oatmeal every day. He worked on his puzzle while listening to the late night talk shows. He couldn't stand the guests most of the time but had to watch every day. Charlie was a self-proclaimed creature of habit.

“Why are you famous?” he asked as he shook his head at the screen. The blonde on the screen had become famous for things like a name, a sex tape, and stupid comments to her then best friend on a reality TV show. The blonde’s voice ripped through him and he muted the television. He was working on what seemed like his millionth puzzle. This one, a cardinal sitting in a branch, was taking him longer than usual. He was having trouble concentrating lately. He was distracted by his thoughts. These days they were filled with regret. Where did the years go? He never married. Never came close really. There had been women over the years. Lots of women really. Just not the type of women you make a life with.

He didn't regret not having children though. “There are enough children in the world,” he told anyone who asked. He loved children though. He went places where he could see them play. In the most innocent way possible, he loved watching the children at the playground or the zoo. Their endless energy was enticing to him. He wondered, but had long forgotten, if he were like that when he was a child. There was no one left to ask though. He was the last of his family. No brothers or sisters. Not even a cousin to speak of. Here he was 80 years old and wondering what he was like as a child.

This day would be different he told himself. He was almost home and was still chuckling about the dumb ass that ordered gravy on his burger. “Had to be on drugs,” he thought. Today he would break up his routine and try to start living life like the normal people. Try to live during the day and sleep at night. He wouldn’t go to bed at two and he wouldn't wake up at ten. These were the goals he had for today. He knew it would be a long day but he was strong-willed and could do it. He would do things normal people did. He would eat lunch at a normal time. Dinner at a normal time. Errands at a normal time.

He got home refreshed from the walk and energized by the meal at the diner. First things first, he would start the spring cleaning he had been putting off for months now. Scratch that. First things first, he would replace the broken vacuum he had been staring at for months. He showered but chose to skip shaving. Not a day went by that he skipped shaving but today was a new day. “What do I need to shave for? Who am I trying to impress? No one.” It would be hard to get used to, but he would do it. He rubbed his chin. The slightest bit of stubble could be felt. The urge to lather and shave could be felt. He left the bathroom before he could convince himself to shave.

He called the metro hotline to check the bus schedule. Ten-thirty to Town Center. He grabbed a bottle of water and departed for the bus stop. He would have to wait for ten minutes but that would give him time to admire the kids at the playground across the street. There they were. Seven of them. Running and screaming and jumping around. He wondered what they were playing. He saw a boy, no more than six, chasing after a girl double his size. She giggled and spun around taunting him. He said, “Come back Mary Jane.” “That’s not my name,” she replied. The boy was wearing a Spiderman shirt. Even Charlie, at 80, could infer he was implying she was Mary Jane Watson, love interest of Peter Parker. He made some hand motions. Shooting webs at her and then calling her Green Goblin. The boy, unhappy with the girls hesitance to play along, had changed her character to his enemy. Charlie thought this was an accurate depiction of what love would be like for these children someday. In an instant the love of you life can become your worst enemy. Caught up in the game of pretend, Charlie failed to see the approaching bus. By the time he noticed it, it was half way down the block. “Fuck,” he exclaimed. The expletive was loud enough to be heard by Peter Parker and his Mary Jane. They looked at Charlie in astonishment. His cheeks flushed and he backed away from the fence he was leaning on. The children continued staring at him until he was sitting on the bench across the street, waiting for the next bus. He kept his head down and avoided looking back at the children. He surely couldn’t take their disapproving eyes anymore. Soon enough he could hear the boy calling out again. “Green Goblin, Green Goblin.” He could also hear the girl screaming that she was not a goblin. They had forgotten all about Charlie’s outburst. They had probably heard the word a million times before. They had probably repeated it a few times as well. That thought made him laugh. A long forgotten memory peeked in. He recalled a time when he was in school. First or second grade. Details were fuzzy. He recalled a girl in his class telling the teacher that he had said s-h-i-t and him running up to defend himself. “I didn’t say s-h-i-t. I said shit.” He remembered the look on everyone’s face. Shock swept the room and his name was being hollered by the teacher and he was sent to the principals office. The principal resisted laughing at the story while Charlie explained what happened. A slap on the wrist and a call home were punishment. His parents never even acknowledged the event. Surely, they thought it was as funny then, as he found it to be now. The sound of the approaching bus brought Charlie out of his memory. Of all the childhood memories to hold on to, that was the one he had the most vivid account of.

He boarded the bus, paid his fare, and found a seat near the front. He watched out the window as streets passed by. As people got on and off the bus he counted them. Two on. Three off. Four on. None off. This made the time fly by. “Town Center,” the drive called out. He pulled the chord to signal he would be getting off and made his way out of the bus when it stopped. He got into the store and found the vacuums. Until then he hadn’t thought about it but now was wondering how he was getting this large box home. He caught himself before he swore again in the presence of strangers. He hated the thought of dragging the box on the bus. He hated the thought of paying a taxi even more. The idea of paying five times the amount he would pay for the bus fare pissed him off. He would put the box in a cart. Take it to the bus stop. Get someone to help him carry it on. Get someone to help him carry it off. Get Joe, the doorman, to carry it upstairs. Sounded like a good plan.

When he found his way to the cashiers, he saw there was no wait and quickly cashed out. He started his way through the parking lot to the bus stop. He saw that a bus was stopped at a red light a block down. He thought to himself, “If I move really fast, I’ll make it.” He moved as fast as he could with the cart in front of him. He was moving at a fast pace when the cart stopped moving. He slammed his stomach straight into the handle of the cart and grunted. He tried moving the cart again but it wouldn’t budge. Nothing under the wheels. No reason for this stupid thing to stop moving. He fidgeted with the tiny wheels and tried pushing again. The bus was moving but this cart wasn’t going anywhere. The bus flew right by the stop and was out of sight. A young woman, Stacy on her nametag, approached him. “Sir, is everything OK?,” she asked.

“No, this cart stopped working and I missed my bus,” he yelled.

“Sir, here at Boxmart we have installed security devices into all of our carts that will force them to lock when they get past a certain point in our parking lot.

“Why in the hell would you do that? What sort of sense does that make?”

“Sir, you wouldn’t believe the amount of people that take our carts from here.”

“TAKE. TAKE. You think I’m stealing your cart. What would I take your cart for? I just was using it to get this stupid vacuum to the bus stop.

“Sir! I am not going to stand here and let you yell at me. In no way was I implying you were stealing the cart. I simply was explaining that we lose carts all the time and have taken necessary precautions to ensure that we don’t lose anymore.”

With that, Charlie yanked his box out of the cart and dragged it the twenty-five feet to the bus stop. He sat on the bench inspecting the torn up cardboard and checked to make sure it wasn’t too damaged to continue the journey in it’s current condition. “All this for a vacuum. This is what I get for coming out during the day.” Soon enough he was sitting on a bus again. Heading home to get to that delayed spring cleaning. He wouldn’t let the incident with the cart annoy him any longer. As he expected, a young man helped him carry the vacuum off the bus and Joe helped him carry it upstairs.

Charlie took the vacuum out of the box and saw that it was in pieces and would need to be built before he could use it. He eyed the clock. One o’clock. He was nearing the time he would normally go to bed. He was tired, but was determined to make it through the day and not go to sleep before ten tonight. A quick snack and he would get his tools and dive into the mess of parts he poured on his living room floor. He spread the hazelnut mixture on two pieces of toast and enjoyed every bite. “Whoever invented this stuff is a genius,” he thought as he devoured the grub. Without noticing, he pulled back the lever on the side of the recliner and sank into a complete state of relaxation. Relaxed breathing. Heavy eyes. All the signs that he would fall asleep if he stayed like that. He forced himself to lower the foot rest and get to work on this vacuum project.

All the experience in life couldn’t prepare him for this. The instructions were missing from the box. He had all the necessary tools but was missing the one thing that would make those tools perform their magic on the contraption in front of him. “How hard could it be?,” he asked himself. He spread all of the pieces out around him. He could do this. He started with the obvious points of construction and before long he was staring at what was starting to look like a vacuum. Admittedly, he was get very tired. He was past the point of his normal bedtime. He made it. Seven more hours to get through. Funny enough, seven more pieces sitting in front of him before this vacuum would lift anything off the ground.

Frustration kicked in as he got down to the final two pieces. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” No one in sight to hear his curses. He couldn’t guarantee the neighbors above or below him were lucky enough to not hear them. He couldn’t figure these pieces out. He inspected the picture of the vacuum on the box and compared it to the near-vacuum sitting in front of him. Inch-by-inch he performed a detailed comparison. There it was. Left hand side. A missing piece. A piece that was not laid out in front of him. First the missing instructions. Now a missing piece as well. He called the store to complain. Their suggestion: Bring in the item with your valid receipt and we will be happy to exchange it for a new item. The woman on the other end of the phone was certainly the same woman he had spoke to in the parking lot earlier. He was sure she knew it was him on the phone. Neither acknowledged this. She gave the standard scripted responses. “It’s not our policy to check every single item that enters our store. We cannot deliver the missing piece. We apologize for the inconvenience and will be happy to take off 10 percent when you come in.” Charlie hung up. He threw one of the remaining pieces across the room. He placed his hands in front of his face and let out a roar. Stubble could be felt below his fingers.

He got up from his position on the floor. Walked to the bathroom and shaved. This would calm him down. He decided he would take care of the vacuum situation tomorrow. Looking at his watch, he saw that time had passed quickly. Five more hours and he could call it a day. He would make dinner, watch some TV while he worked on his puzzle, and then it would be time for bed. He made dinner. More accurately, he heated up dinner in the microwave. He sat in his recliner while he ingested the tasteless meat in front of him. He placed the container on the table next to him. Again, without noticing, he reached for and pulled up on the lever of the chair. He leaned back and could sense the feeling again. Slowed breathing. Heavy eyes. He told himself he would just close those heavy eyes for a minute. “Just a minute. Just a minute,” he said as the minutes passed by and soon he was snoring in the chair. Eight hours later he woke up. Disoriented and stiff, he looked at the clock in disgust. He didn’t make it. He didn’t live a full day like the people who worked the day shift. Tomorrow he would do it. Tomorrow would be another day he told himself. He sat there a little bit longer and thought about the things he would try to accomplish the next day. Number one: don’t fall asleep before 10:00 P.M.