No Love Lost - Chapter Six
Aug. 21st, 2017 08:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yakumtsaki
Someone who thinks he knows me.
He kept dreaming of her lately, still and silent like a statue. All she did was watch him sleep. It was comforting seeing her, so young. Not that it mattered what she looked like.
“Wake up! Consort!”
As long as she was there.
“Hey! Wake up already, what the hell's the matter with you?” Consort tried to respond but couldn't find the will to even open his mouth. “So, it's official, you live here now?” God, nothing like Maurice first thing in the morning.
“What time is it?” he managed, still not fully awake.
“Take a guess.”
Consort glanced around through a half-opened eye. “Seven?”
“Seven.”
“And why are you here?”
“Because it’s seven.”
“Tell me it's seven one more time.”
“Surprised I’m on time, Connie?”
“Naturally” he yawned.
“I'm here on time because we need to talk to Carl” Maurice replied, suddenly determined.
“We absolutely don't.”
“Yes we do, Consort! Or haven't you noticed we're drowning around here?”
“Right, and why is that, again?”
“God, so now it's my fault that Bobby quit?”
“What do you mean now, when wasn't it your fault?”
“Let me think, how about when all you did was sneer at him twenty times a day?” Maurice waited for a reaction and, not getting one, continued. “If anything, it's Carl's fault-”
“-Jesus, yes, Maurice” Consort interrupted, “it's everyone's fault but yours. Can you please go make some coffee now?”
“Fine, but you owe me”, he said, heading to the kitchen.
“Owe you what? It's your turn.”
“Yeah but it's not even my job, it's Bobby's!” Maurice yelled from the other room.
“You made him quit!” How was he getting a headache already, leave it to damn Maurice.
“There you go, princess.” Consort rolled his eyes, waiting for Maurice to go to his desk and leave him to enjoy his coffee in peace, but he kept standing over his head, loudly sipping from his cup.
“Maurice, do you mind?” he finally grumbled. Why, of all the idiots in the world, did he have to get stuck with the absolutely worst one?
“You know, I've never liked you, Consort” Maurice began, ignoring him. “You were a pain in the ass when I first met you and you're a hundred times worse now.”
“Yes, good to know, mail the rest to me?”
“However”, Maurice continued, “Linda insisted I make amends with you after the Bobby.. incident.”
“Who's Linda?” Consort asked with a raised brow. Of course he remembered who she was, against his will. Maurice wouldn't shut up about her. He should have poisoned them both when he had the chance.
“My fiancée, Consort” Maurice sighed, obviously annoyed, to Consort's enjoyment.
“God, are you serious?!” Maurice finally exploded, a result that didn't take a lot to achieve. “I was about to invite you to the wedding but you know what, forget about it, just sit there and wallow in your misery, that's all you're good for anyway, you arrogant son of-”
“-Are you done? As impressed as I am that you found a woman desperate enough to marry you, I have a busy day ahead of me, thanks to you and your stupidity.”
“-Oh, I'm gonna beat you to a pulp-” Maurice began through gritted teeth, when the sound of the door cut him off.
“Good morning to my two remaining employees!” Carl declared, walking in. He greeted them that way ever since Bobby quit, unable to let go of the countless times he could have fired him.
“And Maurice? At work on time? Isn't that a first.”
“You live and learn,” Maurice replied in his usual sycophantic manner. Consort wanted to douse him with the coffee.
“Yes, in his thirties, Maurice has familiarized himself with the concept of time.”
“Hilarious as always, Consort”, Carl replied dryly, making his way to his office. “Now get in here and bring me some coffee.” Consort glanced at the coffee on his desk.
“And not the one sitting on your desk.”
“You're getting fired, asshole”, Maurice concluded as soon as Carl's door was closed.
“That's ridiculous, why would Carl fire me?”
“Why not? I would.”
“Well lucky Linda then, I'll have more time for her.”
“You wanna go right now, Connie?!” Maurice yelled.
Consort was about to reply but Carl shouting for both of them to shut up prevented him.
“Ah, thank you, Consort. Sit down, will you?” Carl thanking him? Oh God, maybe he was getting fired. But no, that made no sense, it was the busiest time of the year, unless he already had someone else lined up-
“As you know, Consort, I'm not one to meddle into other people's lives, employees or otherwise” Carl began. The speech sounded rehearsed, which worried Consort even more. “However, when it starts to affect the work-”
“If this is about Maurice,” Consort interrupted, “he was just now trying to make amends-”
“This isn't about Maurice, Consort, this is about you and the fact that your work has been riddled with so many mistakes lately, it's practically useless! I might as well beg Bobby to come back and call this thing a day!”
Consort could feel his mind, still in a foggy state, courtesy of useless Maurice and his watery coffee, abruptly become aware of the situation. “Mistakes?!” he exclaimed, not even attempting to hide his shock. “Carl, that's impossible, I check everything-”
“-Yes, funnily enough, so do I! So when I tell you your work is useless you better believe it, boy!” He paused before continuing in a lower voice: “Now, I don't know what's happening in your life, I know your mother passed away-”
“That was months ago!” Consort interjected, only to then realize he wasn't helping his case.
“Well whatever it is, take some time off and sort it out. I can't be wasting my time fixing your mistakes, it's the absolute worst time of year for this-”
Consort had stopped listening. Time off? Unpaid of course. Unbelievable, everyone else had been screwing up for years but as soon as he had what? Two bad weeks? “-How can I take time off when this place is falling apart?” he finally said, ignoring Carl, who was still going on about how busy they were, as if Consort didn't know. “Are you going to bring someone new in?”
“That's not for you to worry about.”
“Well someone has to!”
“Adopt a new tone, Consort. Do you understand this isn't a punishment?”
“Forced, unpaid time off? Of course, how could it be?”
“Forced or voluntary, you need it, you look like hell! You're sleeping here and not even doing your job correctly!”
Consort got up; he couldn't bear to listen to him anymore. “I do apologize for my tone” he started, “but I must decline.”
“Decline what?” Carl cried out, throwing his arms in the air. “This isn't a request!”
“Fire me then. Otherwise I'm going to stay here as long as it takes to fix everything.”
“I don't have time for this, Consort.”
“I'll have it done by tomorrow.”
Carl let out a resigned sigh. “Fine. But I see one mistake and you take time off without saying a word.”
“You won't see any,” Consort replied, closing the door behind him.
“Is it time to say goodbye, Connie?”
“Shut up. I need everything from the last few weeks, where is it?”
“How the hell should I know?” Maurice replied indignantly.
“God, Mau- it's your job!”
“There it is. Before you ask, yes, you can keep the box to live in.”
“Great, thank you. Now get lost.”
“I'd love to, but there's two more.”
“I'm going to die here.”
“That'd be a sight for sore eyes.”
“Which is more than I can say for Linda.” Consort hadn't appreciated the size of the folders till he felt one of them land on his head.
“Dammit, Maurice!”
“You can bring the other boxes yourself.”
The entire day passed in a haze. Consort couldn't believe the amount of mistakes he'd made: most of them were trivial and only concerned details, but all of them combined painted a picture of undeniable incompetence, however hard he did try to deny it. He was getting tired and his back hurt. Thank God Maurice had left early, probably rewarding himself for showing up on time. Well, no matter. It was fine. Anything was better than going back home.
Carl finally emerged from his office as slowly and noisily as humanly possible. Consort was convinced he was doing it on purpose to annoy him. No one could walk that slow or close a door that loudly.
“Why on earth did you move that thing?”
“What thing?” Consort asked, pretending not to know what Carl was referring to.
“The thing, the typewriter.”
“I didn't realize its position was of that much importance to you” Consort replied, continuing to type.
“Well you better not have broken it!”
“In what world would I break it? Who am I, Bobby or Maurice?”
“You tell me, Consort, you're certainly about as effective these days.”
Consort groaned but decided not to answer. “Well as you can see” he said, motioning to the box next to him, “I'm going to stay here tonight, so if you can leave me the keys-”
“Yes, I changed my mind about that.”
“What? And you just let me waste my time all day?”
“Well it just happened. Go home. You're not well.”
“No.”
“Consort-”
“-Alright, Carl, I know you think of yourself as wiser and better and more responsible than any of us idiot employees-”
“Consort-”
“-but can you do me a favor and believe me when I tell you I'm fine and I can get this damn thing done?”
Carl opened his mouth to reply but Consort continued. “Or should I be late more often? Cause that seems to be working wonders for everyone else's credibility around here.”
Carl seemed genuinely taken aback for a moment before quickly raising a brow. “Do you want to get fired today, boy? Because the day's not over yet.”
“We both know you won't,” Consort replied, returning to the papers.
“You're right, I won't” Carl conceded, “since you're clearly out of your mind and have been for some time.”
Consort ignored him. “Can you just leave me the keys, please? Just the fact that I have to beg-”
“-Fine, here are your damn keys,” he sighed, dropping them on the desk. “For your sake, I'm going to forget this conversation,” he said as he walked out.
“I wish you wouldn't,” Consort murmured, returning to work.
It was past two. He had forgotten to drink what would have been his eighth coffee of the day. Probably for the best, since it tasted horribly and somehow made him more tired. He'd been staring at the wall for some time now, how long he couldn't tell. At first it was just to rest his eyes by looking at something other than the stack of papers in front of him, but then, the more he looked at it, he started to see sketches and patterns behind the stains and cracks. The drawings were so precise you'd think this wall was really meant to be a painting, started but not finished, by someone who vanished without a trace. There was a lump in his throat that wouldn't go away. He shouldn't have talked to Carl that way. It was supposed to rain again tonight. He walked out to get some air while he still could.
There are certain places that cease to be once people leave them. They exist on the conditions of noise and movement and when they're empty they're like a stage after the play has ended. Everything that was real while the actors were there is fake when they've gone. It is unnatural to be in places like that alone. They will reject you at first, and if you stay long enough-
-they'll make you believe that you're the only person alive.
“And that's all there is,” Consort thought as he looked out at the sea. Stacks of papers, typewriters that don't work, mold on the walls, ships that come and go, mothers who die, heavy, dirty rain, affairs that last a week, the sky above and the city below, and neither of them cares. There's a whole life ahead to dream of a different one that might be worth living, but hope can be worse than hopelessness. Dreams, lies, illusions. This life is all there is.
“If you're gonna jump, might I suggest a cleaner spot?”
“Carl?” Consort asked quietly.
“Yes, Carl, who else would it be?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I think the better question is what are you doing here, have you completely lost your mind?”
“Good God, Carl, I wasn't going to-”
“-Yes, well, it doesn't matter now. We're leaving.”
“Why did you even come back here?”
“Because,” Carl began, turning to leave, “I was worried. You need to get the hell out of this place and get some sleep, you stupid, stupid boy, standing in the rain freezing.. I knew something was wrong with you and sure enough-”
“-I wasn't going to jump!” Consort protested.
“I don't care! Dragging me out here in the middle of the night, I swear to God I can't retire soon enough, and once I do all your lot can jump in for all I care!”
“Where are we going?” Consort dared to ask as they approached the car.
“Where do you think? I'm taking you home.”
“There's really no need, I live nearby, I can walk once the rain-”
“Consort, get in before I run you over.”
They didn't talk the rest of the drive, except for Consort's attempts to give instructions to his apartment, which were promptly ignored. Finally, Carl pulled up next to a building that seemed faintly familiar.
“Is this your house?”
“It is. Do you remember this place?” Carl asked, parking the car.
Consort looked at it for a few moments. “I think so. I do remember those windows.” He turned to Carl. “When have I been here before?”
“You used to live here,” Carl replied. “When you were very young,” he added, struggling to get out of the car.
“Did I? I don't remember it. We moved a lot.” He turned to Carl, suddenly realizing. “So you knew me back then? Why did you never say so?”
“There was no point, you were so small, you wouldn't remember me. But yours is a name that's hard to forget.”
“Yes, I've been hearing that a lot lately.”
“That is..a lot of plants,” Consort said as soon as they entered. He had no idea what he was doing in Carl's house of all places after this ridiculous midnight rescue. Since when does Carl worry about anyone, let alone him?
“Yes, they're my wife's.”
Consort couldn't help but gasp. “You're married?”
“And why is that so shocking?”
“More reasons than I can count,” he mumbled.
“Oh trust me, we have established you're bad at counting. Sit down.”
“And won't we disturb your wife at this late hour?” Consort asked as Carl joined him.
“No, she's a heavy sleeper.. And don't say your wife like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like she doesn't exist!”
“No, I'm sure she's quite real to you.”
“Can't say I care much for this humorous, familiar tone.”
“Well that ship has sailed. What am I doing here, Carl?”
“You tell me. I don't recall forcing you to come here.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Oh, just spill it already, boy, I don't have all night!”
“This agai- Spill what? I don't know what you want me to say!”
“What the hell is bothering you? You've always been all doom and gloom, but lately, Jesus Christ-”
“-Nothing is bothering me, I'm fine!”
“People who are fine don't spend their days looking for excuses to sleep on their desks! Normally someone in this pathetic state has troubles at home, but since you're not married-”
“-I'm about as married as you are.”
“-I assume it's something else. So let's hear it.”
“First, would you mind explaining where this sudden interest comes from?” Consort asked, genuinely bewildered.
Carl let out a deep sigh. “It's not sudden.”
“It's not? Certainly feels that way.”
“Consort, you and your mother, you lived right across from here. Barely a hallway between us.”
“And are you committed to the well-being of all your former neighbors?” Carl didn't reply, only looked at him pointedly.
“Oh,” Consort said, suddenly feeling the need to rest his head.
“It was a different time. She did the best she could on her own. I was difficult-”
“No you weren't.”
“Well, it hardly matters now, she's gone.”
“I couldn't help you back then, Consort. We tried, but not a lot could be done. Maybe I can help you now.”
“You never even told me you knew me and now you dredge up the past and what am I supposed to do?” Consort asked, not looking at him.
“You're not supposed to do anything.”
“Did you only hire me to ease some twenty year old sense of guilt?”
“Of course not!” Carl protested. “What kind of imbecile would hire Maurice and not you?” A small smile formed on Consort's face but faded immediately.
“Did you know her well?” he asked after a few moments.
“Well enough.”
“Was she ever different back then?”
“Sometimes. With people she liked.”
“So you're saying she hated me.”
“I'm saying it had nothing to do with you being difficult.”
“It was a complicated relationship.”
“She didn't like you so she beat you, Consort, nothing simpler than that. She was a troubled woman. And the sooner you understand that-”
“I don't want to talk about this anymore,” Consort cut him off, going to get up.
“Oh, sit down, can't get you out of the office but can't keep you anywhere else- ”
“Wildly different situations,” Consort replied coldly.
“Of course, since you can actually learn something from this one.”
“Yes, this has been as educational almost as it was enjoyable.”
“You're right,” Carl sighed, “I can't tell you how to deal with all that-”
“What boy?” Consort asked, feeling his heart rate dangerously increase.
“What boy, what boy,” Carl replied mockingly, “how about that rude one that keeps calling and I keep having to hang up on? What am I, your damn secretary?”
“I don't want to talk to him.”
“Who the hell is he?”
“I don't know. Someone who thinks he knows me.”
Carl rolled his eyes. “You think I'm an idiot, boy?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“Then I suppose I thought you'd be more shocked.”
“Yes, Lord help me, I was a sailor for half my years but this I cannot handle!”
“Is there a point you're trying to make?”
Consort remained silent until Carl got up. “I’m going to get you something to eat.”
“I'm not hungry.”
“You're eating.”
“Yes?”
“You can just forgive her. It doesn't make it your fault.”
Carl found him asleep when he came back. He smiled before turning off the light.
Consort woke up a few hours later with a headache, an unbearably stiff neck and no sense of time and place. How on earth did he manage to fall asleep on Carl's couch? Last night's conversation was little more than a blur, but whatever fragments came to mind pointed at it being surreal-
He looked up to see a friendly, smiling woman, who apparently and unbelievably was married to Carl. “Good morning!” she continued, “Are you hungry, dear? Would you like some breakfast?”
Consort was mortified. “I am so sorry for the intrusion, Mrs. Williams, I’ll be out of your hair immediately. I don’t even know what time it is, I have to get to work-”
“Oh right, Carl said to tell you if you go to work, you’re fired,” she laughed, heading to the kitchen. “Do you like pancakes?”
After what was probably the most pleasant meal he’d ever had, Consort dragged himself home. Call the damn boy, call the damn boy, call and say what? “I haven’t smiled since I last saw you.”
“I should have called you back.”
“And I can’t remember what I was angry about. No, that's a lie, I can, but what I want to say is-
“-it doesn’t matter anymore.”
He couldn’t speak. Of course, of course. His legs moved on their own as he turned and ran away.
“No, no, no, Consort!” he heard Patrizio yell as he ran after him.
“Got you,” he said, grabbing him by the shoulder.
“Good for you, now let me go.”
Patrizio loosened his grip. “How many times have I chased you now?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Consort spat. “Just forget I came here.”
“No, I can’t do that, you're here. Come outside, the whole building can hear us.”
“Two minutes, damn you,” Patrizio whispered angrily. “You walked that far.”
“It’s not that far,” he said as Patrizio pulled him outside.
“So you’re having them two at a time now! Moving up in the world!”
“My God, are you listening to yourself? Do you realize how insane you sound?”
“Don’t waste your time talking to me then!”
“I took some stupid advice!”
“but I doubt it included you acting like a complete lunatic-”
“Patrizio!”
“What!?”
“That.”
“Wallets, ladies.”
“Stay calm, Consort.”
“I am calm!”
“Here,” he said, taking out his wallet, “there’s a hundred in here, he doesn’t have any money,” he pointed to Patrizio, “obviously.”
“God, Consort, why would you give him your wallet?” Patrizio groaned.
“Because I’m not in the mood to get shot!”
“He’s not going to shoot you, I know this moron, that’s not even a real gun!”
“Jesus Christ,” Consort sighed, “how the hell do you even know what a real gun looks like?”
“I know some things, Consort, and if you would ever trust me for once-”
“Hey, idiots, maybe this will get your attention, I’m still holding a loaded gun!”
“Oh, shut up, kid, you can’t even pay for coffee in the diner and now you have a gun? Get the hell out of here!”
“I’m trying to save your damn money before you give it away to some prick with a fake gun!”
“Listen to your friend, genius! You think I won’t shoot you?”
“I think you can’t,” Patrizio said, stepping towards the gun.
“Patrizio!” Consort yelled.
“I’m not kidding, I’ll do it.”
“Go for it.”
“Alright, that’s enough!” Consort said, pushing Patrizio out of the way. “Here, just take my damn wallet and go.”
“Why did you do that?” Patrizio cried as the thief ran away.
“I’m sorry,” Consort replied, sitting on the ground, “should I have let you get shot?”
“I wasn’t going to get shot,” Patrizio said, sitting next to him.
“Well, no matter.”
“Why were you carrying that much money around? That was, what, a week’s pay?”
“I thought we could go out for dinner,” Consort said, getting up.
“No, I’m going home. It’s not meant to be.”
“Since when do you believe in crap like that?” Patrizio yelled as Consort walked away.
“I’m tired. It’s hard not to believe when it’s this obvious.”
Consort got to the door of his building but couldn’t go in. He wanted to walk for however long it'd take to stop thinking.
Or until he could think of anything, anything else, than how this city is a disease, and those who crave a better life are punished in proportion to how much they want it.
And here you are, again.
“Consort. Are you in there? It’s me, open up.”
“It was a fake gun, so you can start by apologizing to me.”
Consort managed to hold back a smile. “Should I also cry tears of gratitude, as if this adventure wasn’t your fault in the first place?”
“What? How the hell was it my fault?”
“You dragged me out there!”
“Yes, but I made it right.”
“I suppose,” Consort replied. “How’s your face?”
“You should see the other guy.”
“Does he look as disgusting as you?”
“I swear to God, I’m going to take your wallet and run.”
“Yes, your rotting carcass does look ready for action.”
“Am I going to hear the words ‘thank you’ anytime soon!? Unbeliev-” Consort pulled him into a kiss before he could finish.
“Thank you, idiot.”
“Jesus, this damn sun-” Consort groaned, getting up. “I guess I didn’t need my retinas. I have to get to work.”
Patrizio mumbled something that sounded like “Have a good day.”
Consort got ready as quickly as he could, knowing that if he stayed any longer he’d never go to work. He almost forgot his wallet, sitting on the table.
“Are you leaving?” Patrizio mumbled again, his head under the cover to avoid the light.
Consort closed the curtain. “Yes, I’m going. I’ve got everything I need.”
