What We Deserve

Jimmy drew in a breath slowly, as if trying to prevent the microphone on his phone from picking up the noise. He paused for a moment before continuing; his voice though heavy, quivered momentarily.

“You’re sure he’ll get it?”

“I think so?” The voice on the other end of the phone retorted.

There was a pause while Jimmy, who was less than amused by his longtime friend, collected himself. His lips pursed together, he held the phone away from his ear for a moment and closed his eyes. He gritted his teeth and spun his tarnished Lincoln High class ring around his finger before opening his eyes and bringing the phone back to his ear and continuing.

“He deserves this, and you know it.”

The voice on the other end of the phone was silent.

“Ernie?”

The line went dead.

Jimmy glanced at his phone one last time and let out a frustrated sigh before snapping it closed and tapping it against his knee several times. He anxiously surveyed the large atrium of the building he worked in, gnawing at the skin on the inside of his lip as he did so. With one final sweep of the room, he headed towards the elevator, destined for his office.

***

On the other side of town, Ricky Lane lay in bed. The morning light shone through the dingy single-pane window in his studio apartment. He let out a pained groan as he shielded his eyes from what little light seeped through.

Still, in his work clothes from the evening prior, it wasn’t many hours ago that Ricky lay down in bed after clocking out from his second job; but this was a new day, and another grueling eighteen-hour day lay ahead of him. He shuddered at the thought as his feet hit the floor, though he wasn’t sure he was fully awake yet. He let out another groan as he twisted his upper body from side to side, trying to relieve some of the tightness gripping his back, but it was no use.

Across from him on the table lay the cup of coffee he brought home the night before. His hands still on his lower back, he rose to his feet and took a sip. The harsh taste of room temperature coffee - black, was enough to send a jolt down to the very depths of anyone’s soul, and Ricky was no exception. He choked down several mouthfuls and let out a sigh before turning to grab his work boots from under the bed. His first job was always his least favorite, working as a custodian at one of the white-collar offices across town. It wasn’t that he was treated poorly or that the work was terrible, It wasn’t that the job itself was more grueling than any other he had done, it was the fact that every day was a reminder of the poor choices he had made in his life that led to his present situation. He pushed the thought and the image of his younger self aside as he pulled his boots on. The faded wrangler jeans and dusty grey pullover sweatshirt he was wearing from the day prior would have to do. He felt his back pocket for his wallet and his front for his phone before making his way across the small room to the door, grabbing a small faded plastic bag that was filled with loose change for lunch as he did so. He shoved the bag into his pants pocket and with a final glance of the room, shut the door behind him.

He stepped out into the cool morning air and onto the second-floor walkway of his apartment complex. He stood ever so slightly straighter and glanced beyond the railing that stood before him upon the parking lot, confirming that he had a clear path to his car free from any potentially unsightly people. With a long draw of breath, he turned to his left and walked purposefully towards the stairs that would take him down to the lot. A strong breeze carried the moist morning air over his closely shaven hair, though it was nothing he was unfamiliar with. As he passed, he nodded at the young wheelchair-bound amputee sitting outside several doors down, just like he had done every morning prior. Since trying to converse with the man in passing several months ago and realizing he spoke no English, he had become increasingly curious of his story but had been left to wonder in his own wild fantasies as to the young man's situation. As he approached the stairs on his right he heard the unmistakable sound of glass breaking underfoot, a painful daily reminder of his past he learned to ignore.

What else is new? He thought to himself as he descended the stairs and began to cross the parking lot to the 1986 Buick Regal that had been all but consumed by rust. He retrieved the keys from his pocket, and with them a blue-chip keychain that was attached to them. As he lowered himself into the driver's seat he heard the sound of glass breaking once more beneath his boot, only this time it sent a chill down his spine. It was as though someone had dragged a fork across a ceramic plate, piercing the air. He let out an audible sigh and pulled the door shut behind him angrily before bringing the engine to a roaring cold-start and departing the lot, leaving behind a small pile of broken glass that reflected the red neon ‘now leasing’ sign on the complex.

It was a long drive to the West side of town to the large office building he worked in, and it wasn’t long before he had entered into a driving trance, operating the vehicle seemingly subconsciously and arriving without any real recollection of the drive. He shook his head from side to side several times and cleared his mind. He grabbed his yellow vest from the passenger seat and headed into the building where he was greeted by one of the three other custodians that he worked with.

“Hey Ricky, someone found your little notebook, supervisor’s got it.”

Ricky raised an eyebrow confused, “My notebook? I didn’t lose a notebook.”

“I wouldn’t admit I lost my diary either but, Nate told me to tell you to go talk to him.”

Ricky’s brow furrowed as he tried to read Peter's thin pale face, he pushed past his coworker and meandered his way towards the custodian supply room and his supervisor’s office, taking his time. He tried to rack his brain of any potential wrongdoings he had in the workplace recently as he passed through the supply room but kept coming up empty. He rounded the corner and knocked on the doorframe as his supervisor immediately poked his shiny head out from behind his computer and called him into the dimly lit office.

“Ricky you lose something?” The supervisor said in an unassuming nasally voice as he rose from his chair. He adjusted the blue sweater he was wearing, pulling it down so that it wasn’t bunching up around him, and held up a little black notebook.

“I’m not sure who found it but...” his voice trailed off momentarily, “this was placed in my mailroom box this morning.”

Ricky stood confused though he hid it behind a good poker face. He looked off to the side for a second to avoid eye contact while he thought, blinking several times as he nodded his head.

His supervisor, equally as befuddled, walked around to the other side of the desk towards Ricky holding the book out before continuing. “You must have lost this, it says ‘Property of Rick Lane’ inside the front cover so..."

Perplexed, Ricky reached out to meet Nate's outstretched hand, taking the notebook and glancing at the inside cover. Though the book contained his name, it certainly didn’t contain his handwriting. He flipped through the pages and then caught something folded and inserted between two of the pages. He unfolded it slowly. An anonymous cashier's check, made out to him for the amount of $20,000. His vision quickly became fuzzy as he began to feel like the outside world was fading to black. He heard a ringing noise pierce the air as he became increasingly aware of his heartbeat echoing in his ears. His supervisor, and the rest of the world along with him, had faded away as he felt himself begin to break out in a cold sweat. He abruptly clambered his way out of the office, book in hand, shoving the two chairs aside haphazardly as he struggled to reach fresh air before passing out. Check in hand, he barreled his way outside to his car bracing himself before taking several deep gulps of air. The outside world began to come back into focus as he slumped into the driver's seat. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts as he composed himself. He rifled through the black book again but aside from his name printed on the inside cover, it was blank. He had no clue where it came from, or more importantly why there was a check inside made out to him but he didn’t care. It was a cashier's check, there was no mistake. The money was his.

A wave of emotion crashed down on him as the weight of years of struggling suddenly seemed to disappear. He had done more wrongs than he could count in his life, and in his younger years treated so many people so poorly, he felt guilty - though only for a fluttering moment. He was going to use the money to get on his feet, but he also wanted to use it to help others as a way of giving back. He had no one to give it to and no one to spend it with, but he knew it could help a lot of people who had struggled as he had in his youth. He stared off into the distance from the driver's seat of his car and thought about what to do after he cashed the check. It still didn’t feel real. As the sun descended behind a row of trees, plunging the lot outside of the office into a scene of grey, an ominous thought crept into his head. He slowly felt for his phone in his pocket. His fingers went numb as he recalled the sequence of numbers he would have dialed if he had this much money in the past. He pondered the thought for a moment.

After all, he deserved it.

He felt the chip that hung from his keys through the other front pocket of his jeans and paused for the slightest of moments before reaching for his phone.

***

Several weeks later Jimmy sat alone in his office. He took a sip of his coffee and flipped through the morning paper. Several pages in he paused, there it was.

“Man killed in single-car crash on far East side”

He didn’t need to read on. He knew the story already. He put the paper down and turned in his chair to face the window of his office, in the distance he saw the East side of town, where Ricky Lane had lived his whole life.

He could envision the details.

“A man identified as Ricky Lane was involved in a fatal single-car crash late Tuesday evening. Though toxicology is pending, police suspect the driver had consumed one or more controlled substances mixed with alcohol. A graduate from Lincoln High, Lane worked as a custodian at one of the largest buildings in the city. A man whose incredible stroke of luck and good fortune resulted in the perfect orchestration of his own demise.”

Jimmy slowly spun his gold Lincoln High class ring around his finger as the rest of the world faded away. He stared off into oblivion and smiled to himself.

After all, he deserved it.