On Yellow

Jeffrey could only hear the tapping of his shoes as he was leaving the lobby. The doors slid open with a quiet wooshing sound. The sun was beaming viciously and the air was hot and dry, contrary the cool manufactured air inside.

He stopped a moment to allow himself to prepare for the strenuous task of walking across the parking lot to where his car was parked. He had parked far because of his tardiness this morning and began to regret hitting the snooze button as many times as he did. He looked back at the receptionist sitting at the front desk as if to ask her if there was anything more to his life. She briefly looked up and smiled like they did on television. Sighing as the doors shut, he began the trek to his car.

The heat was unbearable, especially in the suit he was wearing. He could feel the sweat from his back and legs sticking to the fabric. 

“Almost there” he thought.

A few more minutes of silent tapping and sweating had past and he had reached his car: a blaring silver sedan, winking at him through the waves of heat. He opened the door, took off his coat and threw it in the back seat. Just as he slammed the door he heard a humming sound coming towards him. In curiosity he looked over his shoulder.

The hum had been coming from a woman riding on a yellow bicycle. An old Schwinn with the paint chipping from repeated crashes. The heat seemed to subside for a few seconds as she glided by; her eyes briefly glancing at his. 

The wind made her hair a long golden mess and blew the petals of the flower that was perched on her ear.  The dress she wore draped over the bicycle seat and made her riding seem effortless; as if there were no bike at all. The blouse she wore gently pressed against her skin, exposing the curvature of her torso and exposing her chest glistening with sweat.

Just as quickly as the bike had approached, the woman had disappeared. He stood alone in the road and stared in the direction of her departure for a moment. Still staring he opened his car door and ducked into his blaring silver sedan.

He reverted from his distraction and began to drive home. He couldn’t escape the thought of that woman on the yellow bicycle. She was beautiful but when she looked at him, he got the feeling something was wrong.

He arrived home, ate dinner, watched some television, and retired to his bedroom. He laid still in his bed; staring at the ceiling, thinking about what that girl’s story was. After a short while he dismissed it and fell into an uncomfortable sleep.

* * * * *

Two days had passed since he had seen the girl on the yellow bike. He left work at the same time all of those days and didn’t manage to see her. He was beginning to think he would never see her again, but things like this had happened before and assumed it probable.

Jeffrey’s alarm rang incessantly for a third time in an effort to wake him. As he focused his eyes onto the clock, he noticed he would be late for the second time this week if he didn’t hurry and get dressed.

He was just on time at the cost of parking on the street again. As he was walking to the front door he noticed the morning air was cool and refreshing despite the lack of clouds. Looking up at the sky; he could tell today was going to be a hot one.

The doors wooshed open and the receptionist greeted him with a robotic smile. He waved without looking at her and proceeded to the elevator. Standing in the elevator, he felt like a telegram being sent up a pneumatic tube; becoming useless once reaching its destination and sending its message.

Once out of the elevator; he waved to his boss and briskly walking to his cubicle and commenced his daily work, ready to leave at any moment for any reason.

Nine hours passed while he sat at his desk and it was an hour or so after everyone had left. He liked staying later than everyone some days because he relished his workplace in complete silence. When the floor wasn’t filled with people it was different: unfamiliar and refreshing.

After a few minutes of sitting still, listening to nothing, he packed his things. Once he finished he noticed a stack of envelopes sitting on his otherwise bare desk. He quickly decided to go over them at home and stuffed them into his briefcase along with his letter opener.

Stepping out of the elevator; he noticed the receptionist had left as well. He grinned at the thought of being the very last person in the building as well as his floor. The glass windows housing the door at the end of the lobby were large and a deep orange from the setting sun. He hadn’t realized how late he had actually stayed until now.

He walked through the wooshing doors and was on that ever so familiar journey to his silver sedan on the street.

Several minutes passed and he reached the door of his car. He tiredly set his briefcase on the trunk of his car, opened the backseat door, slid off his coat, and threw it in the back seat. He tossed his briefcase onto his coat and shut the door. He paused for a second to look at the sun setting behind him. The sunset was nearly over and you could just see the very tip of the sun: a giant orange slug slowly shrinking as night came. He turned back and wrapped his hand around the door handle of his car. Just then he heard it; a distant whimper followed by the sound of glass shattering.

Jeffrey turned his head quickly to see what made the noise he had just heard. As he moved his head around to get a better view, he noticed all of the doors of the homes on the opposing side of the street were shut except for one. When peeking through this open door he could just make out a man throwing around furniture in an angry fit. Another whimper. He began to worry. As he stared at the house, thinking about what to do, he saw a faint wave of blonde hair flash across the window. It was the hair of a woman.

He began to breath rapidly and deeply. He had never been the kind of man to step into a situation. He had always avoided conflict in fear of what it would lead to, but he couldn’t stand there and just watch. ‘Could I?’ he thought to himself.

He threw his back door open and reached for his briefcase. He unlatched it without blinking and grabbed his letter opener. He held it in his hand for a second; thinking about whether he should still confront that man in that house. He took a deep breath, slid the sheath off and slammed his door.

He began walking; that familiar tapping sound more frequent than he could remember.

He stopped at the porch, just before the door; a faded yellow. It was cracked open and he couldn’t see inside, but could hear. He heard a lamp crash onto the hard wood floor and the roar of a couch being pushed. Hearing this he paused for a moment, slowly opening and closing the grip of his right hand on the letter opener. He stared at the weathered stairs before him; wondering what lay passed the yellow door that stood in front of him.

Suddenly he heard a thud. His thoughts of doubt escaped him as he jolted forward to stare back at the yellow door. Worried with what condition the woman was in, he ran up the steps to the door and knocked on the wall beside it as if to attempt to break the wall down. A large man threw the door open and yelled “And what the f**k do you want?”

Jeffrey stepped back slightly in response to the pleasant yellow door turning into a gorilla of a man. His head was shaved and Jeffrey could see beads of sweat sitting on top of his scalp: waiting to drip down his wrinkled forehead and onto his furled brow. In an attempt to look past him, Jeffrey noticed that the man had a tattoo on his forearm which read “MIKE.” The letters were in old english script and accompanied by numerous other tattoos throughout his entire right arm. Jeffrey, realizing what he was up against, stood speechless and immobile.

Looking passed Mike’s arm Jeffrey could see the girl that he had heard across the street. Her hair was long and golden, her eyes red from crying, her face bleeding from being slammed against the wall. It was the woman on the bicycle. The woman who had stopped time just two days earlier.

Jeffrey looked straight at Mike’s eyes in rage. “Look, man. I know what’s going on! You can’t do this to her.” asserted Jeffrey.

Mike’s face changed to one of confusion. “And who the f**k are you!?”

Just as Jeffrey opened his mouth to answer, he heard the girl say “A friend.”

Mike turned around to face her. He turned his palms up and asked “A friend?”

It was silent except for the crunching of glass beneath Mike’s boots as he slowly walked back towards the girl.

“Oh so now you’re out making yourself friends?” said Mike; his voice low and ominous. “You’re a filthy w***e. You know that?”

The girl stood still, her eyes beginning to water again as she made eye contact with Jeffrey. Her blue eyes stared deeply into his; crying for help. Jeffrey began to take slow steps into the house, Mike’s eyes still dead-set on the girl.

“What’s he got? Huh!? You gonna answer me or what?” yelled Mike; two feet away from her. She began to shake her head and step backwards; only to run into the wall behind her.

Jeffrey stood close behind Mike, his hand tightly gripped around the letter opener. He knew that if he didn’t do something soon, this girl would surely be beaten again. 

He took and deep breath and plunged the knife forward into Mike’s torso until he couldn’t see the blade anymore. He froze with the opener inside of Mike, looking up to see him frozen. The girl gasped and held her hand over her mouth; tears falling over her delicate fingers. Jeffrey’s hand began to feel the warmth of the blood trickling out of Mike’s wound. Jeffrey quickly slid the knife out and stabbed him once more five inches lower to ensure Mike’s immobility. Mike collapsed onto the floor; squirming in pain and moaning in agony.

Jeffrey and the girl stood staring at each other for a moment in disbelief at what he had just done to Mike. Jeffrey looked down at Mike on the floor and dropped the opener; realizing what he had done. He felt a harsh pain deep in his gut as he stood over Mike; the blood pool getting larger by the second. A few moments of listening to Mike groaning  passed when Jeffrey said “I - I can’t - I can’t just let him bleed out!” 

He untucked his collared shirt and quickly unbuttoned it. He knelt to the floor and lifted up Mike’s shirt in an effort to dress the wound. 

“Gah! Watch it!” cried Mike in agony.

Jeffrey took the body of the shirt and pressed it onto the wound. 

“F**k!” Mike yelled.

“Hold still I’m trying to help you!”

Jeffrey took the sleeves and wrapped them around Mike’s body tightly. “Apply pressure or you’ll bleed to death” said Jeffrey. Looking up and locking eyes with the girl; he finished his sentence “you’ll be fine.”

Once Jeffrey had finished wrapping the wounds, he got up and walked back to the yellow front door. As he stood in the doorway he turned back to face the girl and walked backwards out of the doorway. 

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” he whispered. 

“Wait.” mumbled the girl as she looked up, her eyes wide from distress. 

She walked towards the door carefully as not to step on broken glass. As she stepped over Mike, he grabbed her leg. She gasped and looked down into his sad,longing eyes. A few seconds passed and Mike relaxed his grip; his eyebrows doing the same. He turned his head away from the door as she shook her leg out of his limp hand and walked passed Jeffrey towards his car.

They walked in silence, listening to small rocks crunch under their feet. They reached the car, got in, and started it.

Jeffrey slowly drove down the street as if nothing had happened and they had been friends forever. He was worried but proud. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time and it comforted him to do so.

They sat in silence as two hours passed. By now the sun had set and they had reached the barren road that led out of town. 

Jeffrey stopped under a broken street light and let the car idle as he got out. He stretched and looked at the stars for a moment before closing the car door and walking to the hood of his car to take a seat, his back bent forward and his elbows resting upon his knees. He nestled his face into his hands and stared at grey road beneath his feet. 

A few minutes passed and he heard the opening of a car door followed by two slow footsteps. He lifted his head to look at the girl he had left everything behind to save standing a few yards away from him at the car door. Her eyes were red and watering; her lips shifting into a slight puckered frown. She seemed to be holding her breath. She exhaled and inhaled quickly, letting some tears fall from her eyes; then exhaled deeply, releasing her tension and letting her tears flow freely.

“Thank you.” she mumbled through her tears. “Thank you.”

Jeffrey got up slowly and they stared at each other without a word until Jeffrey walked towards her, wrapping his arms around her shivering, tattered body. He held the back of her head as she dried her tears on his shoulder.

“You saved me too.” said Jeffrey through her messy golden hair. “Thank you.”

Once she had stopped crying, they got back into the car and sat for a minute or two. He looked over at her and watched her nod and smile lightly as she stared forward at the road before them. He put the car back in drive and continued on the road out of town. His hand upon the shifter and hers upon his, he drove. His tires on the yellow dashes to nowhere in particular.

Reviews

[sagevogel]

Certain instances in your writing were impressive examples of creative description. The sunset as an orange slug, 'tires on the yellow dashes to nowhere in particular.' I enjoyed the story, and you continued your trending theme of corporate sterility versus appeal of simpler things. The action was something you would find in a Cohen brothers film, but altogether too sparsely described and hastily concluded for my taste. Embellish the rising action and climax of the encounter with Mike, make it a more exciting experience. Convince us that our protagonist would actually stab a stranger.