Have a Glass of Champagne

The coffee cup sat on the corner of the desk half drunk. The steam had already subsided and occasional waves of hazelnut drifted on the HVAC laden air. The blue hue from the computer screen demanded attention like a toddler kicking and screaming at the injustice of a different colored cup. Work, work, work was the mantra. The mantra repeated itself like an old school record skipping.

Typing echoes from desks in the near vicinity matched in time with phones that were constantly ringing on and off. The coffee cup sat in defiance of it all, resting easily and untroubled by deadlines and expectations. The serenity of the coffee cup angered her and she wanted to drink the rest out of spite, however could not bring herself to stomach the lukewarm brew.

Her Fitbit buzzed at her reminding her that 95 steps were all that were needed to maintain her daily average 5,000 step goal. The watch angered her too; didn’t it know she had no time for those things until lunch? Didn’t her watch understand the daily demands of human life tied to a chair in front of a computer endlessly inching closer and closer to carpal tunnel syndrome? Pausing once or twice to arch her back in simple stretch she could feel the tug on her neck. She pictured a large lowly lit room with a massage table beckoning her. The room evaporated, replaced by the screen. Her excel spreadsheet glared at her, challenging her quick day dream to a duel. The spreadsheet would win hands down.

The window on the East side of the large office space was starting to brighten. She looked down at her watch and it read five until lunch time. She could already feel the rush of endorphins as they exploded their way from her pituitary gland and down to her shoulders instantly soothing her aching neck and wrists. She struggled to push away the thought that she had trained her body to feel pleasure at the thought of a specific lunch time; Pavlov’s Dog indeed. She moved to put her screen into sleep mode as one of her co-workers drifted past her desk slowly.

“So, want to grab a burrito?” It was Dawson. They’d been casually hanging out on their off time. Not exactly dating and nowhere near being in a relationship. What did they call that now, a situationship? She didn’t even think their scenario was that defined.

“No thanks, I entered that 30 Day Challenge and we have weigh-ins next Monday.” It was a challenge to see who could lose the most body fat percentage. Mostly she’d entered it to have something to do. A lot of things were starting to blend together in her life where she couldn’t tell Monday last week from Monday five years ago. The 30 Day Challenge at least cut the monotony. She packed up her stuff and pointed to her walking shoes, “Wanna join?” She wasn’t at all serious but knew he’d decline.

“Nah, I’ll rain check you.” No you won’t, she thought.

“Have a bite for me then.” She said as he nodded and walked out giving her a slight grin in return as a good-bye.

She adjusted her laces and put her ear buds in as she clocked out. The spring air hit her skin setting it ablaze in goosebumps. The winter in the air hadn’t completely abated and she jumped up and down a few times to warm up. The sunlight broke through the Aspen trees lining the sidewalk. Her normal loop was about a half mile long and took her around the block of her building. She’d been doing the same loop for a week now and while it was beautiful and calming the last leg of her loop always took her by 3rd street. 3rd street had two lanes on each side of the road and was always busy with traffic. It stressed her out to have people looking at her walk or honking their horns at her and yelling random things her way. Her other option was one she had only heard about that was cut back behind a small corner store and around the backside of an abandoned drive in movie theater. The route was at least a mile long and partly a dirt path that sat adjacent to a frisbee golf course.

She knew she’d be pushing it with the time available for her but figured if she stepped it up and power walked it she could make it. The windows of the store proudly proclaimed a 20% off sale for all individual hand sanitizer brands. Just below that sign was another proclaiming 50% all masks. You couldn’t give masks away now, she thought. The afternoon chill was offset by the warmth of the afternoon sun beaming down from a cloudless sky and small wild flowers were coming up through the cracks in the parking lot. There was a dirty yellow minivan parked in front of the store with paint chipped off of the side rails. The engine was running steadily and the humming broke through the audiobook pumping through her ear buds. All the windows were tinted a dark limo like hue. The soft smell of cigarette smoke lingered in the air.

She made a move to hold her breath through it as she pushed herself a little faster when her foot caught the edge of the curb and sent her sprawling in the air. Her knees met the pavement and as they did a bright white light flashed before her eyes before the pain enveloped the area around her shins and up into her hips. The palms of her hands burst into agony just a short second after and she more felt herself cry out in pain than heard it. One of her ear buds popped out and dangled around her neck.

“Well that wasn’t a pretty sight. You okay?” She looked up at the gruff sounding voice to see who it was attached to. An older lady with an American Spirit pinched between her lips was staring down at her with nearly coal black eyes. She had on an old leather jacket with fringe hanging off the pockets. Her shoulder length white hair contrasted sharply with her brown skin. A hint of a tattoo poked through at her collar bone.

“Yeah not exactly graceful, was it?” Groaning she managed to get up and brush her palms on the side of her leggings. “I’m alright, nothing a little bacitracin and a glass of champagne later won't cure.”

“Don’t all young ladies these days drink wine?” The older woman took the cigarette between her fingers and blew out a gray cloud into the air taking care to keep it up wind.

“Nah, wine’s a little much for me and champagne makes me feel like I’m celebrating.” The blood was already drying on her palms. “Also cheap champagne always sounds classier than cheap wine to my ears.”

“Why not an expensive bottle tonight, I think you deserve it.” She blew out another puff then dropped the cigarette butt to the ground before smooshing it into oblivion with her scuffed black mid length boots.

“Yeah expensive isn’t in the budget this month. I’m trying to save up for a...oh man I’m sorry. My name’s Skylee.” She reached out for a handshake before drawing it back ashamedly, “Blood...probably not the best I mean we’re finally over the worst of that pandemic.”

“No worries, Sky. My name’s Jay. What was that you’re saving up for?” Jay reached around to her pocket and pulled out her pack of American Spirits slipping a single cigarette between her fingers and rolling it back and forth like a baton.

“Oh...uh an espresso machine. Trying to cut down on office coffee trips to the chain stores you know. I probably could have gone to Paris or somewhere equally as cliché by now.” Sky chuckled a little and looked down at the pavement.

“Look, I’m on a sort of mission you see. Not like those missions spreading the word to all those tribal peoples. Like a bucket list mission. I was wondering if you might be interested in helping me out with it.” Jay reached around to the same pocket she’d pulled the American Spirits out of and produced a small black notebook with a ballpoint pen attached to the side. “You see written in this Moleskin are the names of everyone who’s helped me so far.” She held the book up by its end as if she was asking an audience member if that was their card.

“Uh...sure...if I can.” The initial rush of adrenaline had worn off and all that remained of her fall was pure aching pain. “But I only have until my lunch hour's over and I need some first aid supplies.”

“Deal, what’s your full name there Sky?” Jay pulled the small elastic bit off of the notebook and opened it up, pen at the ready. She looked like a caricature of an old time journalist. “Oh hold up...need my eyes.” She patted her chest and head finally landing on them and placed them down toward the tip of her nose. “You know back in the day I had 20/20 vision.”

“My full name is Skylee Rainwater.” Jay jotted down Sky’s name and folded the black notebook back up, placing it back in it’s home. She turned and looked down to light the cigarette before taking her glasses back off and eyeballing Sky. She motioned for Sky to follow as she made her way to the still running minivan.

Red flags flew up and Sky looked around nervously. Two more vehicles had pulled into the store while they’d been talking and there were a handful of people passing by she could scream out to if things turned sour. “Look, I don’t know…”

“I know, I know don’t follow strange people to vans. My bad for having a van, chic.” She had put both her hands in the air with her cigarette wagging in her mouth. Her knees bent slightly, she looked in Sky’s eyes and brought her hands to a prayer position. “Honest to crumb I don’t traffic young ladies. You can stay o’re there.” Jay turned around and opened the side of the minivan. Inside were ten large black boxes that looked like old school filing crates.

Curiosity brought Sky a little closer to the van. “What are they?” She asked, pointing to the strange sight before her.

“That’s my little project...or my mission as I try to put it.” Jay leaned over and popped the top off of one of the boxes. Inside were four black canvas bags. “Now, I know this may be odd but listen before you judge.” She reached in and pulled one of the black canvas bags out of the box and replaced the lid. “This here,” she patted the black canvas bag, “is my apology to the world. I haven’t always been an upstanding member of society and life is giving me a good ol’ once over for it. I have stage four lung cancer. This…” She tossed Sky the bag, “is me attempting to make good before I go.”

The bag was light and the canvas scratchy. Inside were hundred dollar bills and flipping through them Sky figured there must have been at least twenty thousand dollars. Sky looked at the bag in disbelief then looked up at Jay who was smirking back at her with the cigarette trailing smoke out of her mouth. “What?”

“It’s a gift. Please do me a favor though. Go buy that expensive bottle of champagne and have a glass for me.” With that Jay tipped her cigarette ash and got into her van. The vehicle made concerning knocks and squeals as it pulled out and made its way down the side streets.