Temporality: Second Story for ENGL 408

Another story I have written for my ENGL 408 class, focusing on temporality of time. Please read, enjoy, (not enjoy), comment, criticize. I'd love it.


"Cheat Fate"

Jane doesn’t know it, but she hasn’t seen Adrien Lynch in years. She sits in a stiff, plastic leather chair, at a lonesome gray terminal at the Dallas/Fort Worth airport, waiting for her connecting flight to LAX. The minute the plane touches down she knows she has to rush and be ready to meet with Mr. Adrien Lynch for a senior copywriter position at 3 p.m PST in Santa Monica. It is 11 a.m. CT in Dallas. Jane has a boarding time of 11:45. She stands up from the plastic leather chair and feels it prying away from her skin in a quick ripping swipe. Appearing embarrassed, she checks the faces around her, hoping none of them think that she has broken wind. Jane quickly walks off, rolling her suitcase behind her, and humming a tune to herself. She stops into a souvenir store and decides to buy a half-liter of Arrowhead, two postcards, a hot pink T-shirt with an Etch-A-Sketch-like drawing of downtown Dallas, and a Danielle Steele novel. No one has ever complimented her on her taste.

She returns to Gate 27 at Terminal C and sits down in the very same plastic leather chair that clung to her things. It is uncomfortably moist and warm and she hopes it was from her own body heat. The ringer on her cell phone then starts to go off, the phone vibrating violently against the side of her purse. She fumbles around, searching for the noise and manages to find her old Nokia two rings before the voicemail answers. Then the phone fumbles out of her slippery fingers and under the seat. The message left in her voice mailbox:

“Hi, is this Jane? This is Mr. Lynch’s assistant. He just called the office and informed me that he will be running a little late this afternoon. I’m calling all of his appointments to push them back a half an hour. Your appointment now will be at 3:30. Thanks, bye bye.”

***

Adrien Lynch was feeling self-important the morning he nearly cancelled his appointments. He rolled over in bed and the cotton sheets twisted around his ankles. He accidentally elbowed his companion in the small of her back. She groans with discomfort, but otherwise doesn’t awaken from her deep sleep. Adrien pushed his disheveled blonde hair back, and fiddled around looking for a clock or his Blackberry, anything that told time. His eyes were clouded and his head felt heavy. He blinked his eyes around the room, trying to orient himself. The clock read 10 a.m. PST on his Blackberry. He recalled he had made a phone call about an hour ago to his office in Santa Monica. Terry answered the phone. Terry took down his messages. He was in the clear for a few more hours.

The girl lying next to him in bed began to wriggle, feeling Adrien’s shuffling movements. She twisted around to face him and smiled. She perched her head onto his chest and pressed her body against his. Adrien felt the soft breaths escape from her body as they grazed the lumpy expanse of his stomach.

“Did you think about what we talked about last night?” she asked him, with a soft, sleepy voice.

“About what?” he asked.

“The divorce. Are you going through with it or not?”

“Carol, it’s a little early in the morning for this,” he said, slightly irritated. He was gently trying to pull her body away from his. She giggled again, through a breathy voice, thinking that he was trying to tickle her. She hoped he was going to change his mind.

“Right. I’ll make some coffee and then we can come back here and talk about it,” she said, flashing a bright, cheeky smile. Adrien shook his head, brushing her off. He tossed the blankets off of him and knelt down to gather his clothes. He started to dress with his back turned to her, quickly pulling on all of his clothes.

“You already know what my answer is, Carol. I’m not going to repeat it.” He turned to face her, hurriedly buttoning his baby blue collared shirt. He shook his head once again. He picked up his wedding ring from the night stand and put it on in front of her. Then he slid it off again and tossed onto the bed I front of her.

“Look honey,” he began to say. “I love … what we’ve got right now, but I think you’re getting your hopes up a little too high right now. I think it’s best that we just break it off. Think of me as being a good guy, saving you all the misery before it gets way too complicated.”

Carol pursed her lips together, in an effort to keep her lips stiff. She tried to fight the heavy lead feeling in her throat and forced her eyes close together. Realizing that she had left herself completely bare for him to see all of her, she no longer felt safe with him. Instinctively, she brought the sheet over her body, modestly covering herself. She pushed her long, chestnut hair back and solemnly looked down, not wanting to face him. She wanted him to take his ring off. She knew he didn’t mean any of it.

“Just leave, Adrien. Before I start saying things I never mean to say to you, because I love you that much, leave now.”

“I’m sorry--”

“--I hope you find the woman who’s worth leaving your wife,” she added, wanting the final word.
***
Jane’s mind is a racecar track, constant circuits of thoughts breezing by, preoccupying her mind on the drive from LAX to home. She wants to see her mother, but she’s at tea. She wants to see her brother, but he’s at work. She passes by the McDonald’s on Colorado in Glendale, where she remembers playing in the playground. A boy, a year or two older than she, had hazel eyes and blonde hair with a rat’s tail, and wore untied BK Lights shoes. He tried to show her all his secret passageways and all the different tunnels that were like mysteries yet to be untapped. All Jane could say to him was: “You shouldn’t be wearing your shoes in the playground.”

She freshens up and makes a cross-town trek to Santa Monica, just in time for her 3:30 with Adrien Lynch. She enters the room and sits across from him. To Jane, Adrien is neither intimidating nor a friendly face. She spots a 32-ounce cup of soda from McDonald’s, condensing on his desk. This, she figures, is probably why he was late for the appointment.

Through the interview, Adrien fiddles with his golden wedding ring, pulling it on and off. He is immediately taken by Jane, who seems like a stiff, but a stiff he’d like to break. Then he finally leaves the ring on his left finger, letting it glimmer against the harsh lights of the office. No woman, he thinks to himself, is worth leaving Carol.

(End note: Do not steal! I am not Maya Angelou or Stephen King.)