Two Weeks

A Story by Rik Redus

A reflection of the darker side of human nature.

Two Weeks

Ernest Cornell began running when he heard the distinctive diesel roar of the number seventeen approaching in the distance. There were only a few more houses between him and the corner intersection where the quaint residential road joined one of the main city streets. Going back for his wallet had cost precious minutes. Ernest was now only steps from the corner and in full stride when the large smiling couple on the bus advertisement roared by as if to mock him. Ernest stopped abruptly next to the graffiti covered bench and watched the bus speed away. He stood there for a few seconds in a state of overwhelming rage trying to catch his breath.

“Damn it,” Ernest screamed loudly. He kicked a can into the street then did an about face and marched back to the apartment where he currently resided. This would be the second time that he would have to call in late for a job he started only a month ago. Two weeks earlier, he told his boss that he was having car trouble, which of course was not true. He lied on his employment application about having reliable transportation because he feared they would not hire him otherwise. Ernest is always careful to get off the bus at the stop one block over from building where he works. He then skillfully makes his way to the entrance on the parking side of the building. Twirling his apartment keys on his finger as he enters the building completes the illusion.

"Miss the bus again?” Cathy laughingly asked Ernest after he slammed the door behind him coming back into the apartment.

“I knew when you came back for your wallet that you were not going to make it.” She lay on the sofa with a condescending smirk on her face and a bowl of cereal resting on her stomach. She was fond of reality television shows and spent her days watching one after another. Ernest hated her but never said anything. The apartment belonged to his good friend Michael and she was his current significant other. Michael had been kind enough to let Ernest stay there until he could get a place of his own.

“You’re going to get fired,” Cathy yelled as he walked into his bedroom. Ernest became unemployed nearly five months ago and subsequently had his rather nice sports car repossessed. Not surprisingly, he was soon kicked out of the apartment he had been sharing with his fiancé. She quickly replaced him with a gentleman that Ernest suspected she had already been seeing behind his back.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Ernest said to his boss and hung up the phone.

“I am going to get fired,” he said as he plopped down on his unmade bed and stared at the ceiling. A few moments later he heard Cathy’s big fluffy slippers come sliding up the hardwood floor of the hallway.

“You know Michael is going to throw you out when he gets back if you don’t have any money,” she said as she poked her messy blond head into his room. Ernest remained tranquil with his fingers interlocked behind his head but moved his gaze from the ceiling to the tanned face in his doorway. The two briefly engaged in a staring contest before Cathy turned and went back down the hall mumbling something mixed with clearly spoken curse words. Earnest had nothing but contempt for her and was more than certain that she knew it.

Cathy was not used to men acting rudely or indifferent towards her. She had the face and figure of a supermodel but lacked any true ambition in life. She would stay at her mother’s house in between boyfriends and sometimes worked as a stripper. Earnest began to feel very sleepy and slowly shut his eyes. As he drifted into a warm slumber, he could hear Cathy angrily banging around in the kitchen. He smiled slightly with satisfaction.

Earnest’s body jerked violently then he quickly sat up in bed and immediately looked at the wall clock across the room. To his relief he had only been asleep for a few minutes although it seemed like much longer. It was once again time to make his way back to the corner bench since the bus passed by every thirty-six minutes. He always tried to minimize the amount of time he would have to sit in humiliation on the bench by getting there just as the bus was approaching. This strategy was obviously not working since the bus could sometimes be a few minutes ahead of schedule.

Cathy, now back on the couch with a sandwich, was in the middle of another sarcastic barb as Earnest slammed the apartment front door shut. She was always eating but never gained any weight. He arrived at the bench with a few moments to spare this time and spent them staring down at a butterfly being carried away by a bunch of fire ants. With its last bit of life it fluttered its bright and beautiful wings every so often. Earnest again heard the roar of the bus pulling away from a distant stop. He turned his head and could see the glowing eyes of that giant square face approaching. It leaned and bounced violently on the worn street as it belched thick black smoke into the sky.

Earnest dreaded the possibility of a friend or acquaintance driving by and seeing him in such an undignified state so he always kept his head down. Only a few months ago he had been the owner of a successful tile business, but a crooked employee and a fire that his insurance did not cover ruined him. He stood up as the bus squealed to a stop and invited him in.

Thirty minutes later he was logging on to his work computer. He put his phone headset on and immediately received a call. He answered it with an overly polite company greeting that bordered on sarcasm. Ernest was now working as a customer service representative at a large call center and spent his work hours locked down in a small cubicle attempting to pacify irate cell phone customers.

“I do apologize for the inconvenience sir,” he said after a few moments acknowledging grunts. He did not posses anywhere near the temperament required for such a job and often handled rude customers by hanging up on them.

“I’m truly sorry sir but that is the company’s policy.” Earnest must have said that phrase at least two hundred times a day and he meant it a little less each time.

It was nearly midnight when Earnest returned to the apartment. Cathy was in the same spot but now wore a burgundy robe and a matching towel on her head. The two made brief eye contact as he passed the living room doorway but neither of them spoke. He could smell the lavender soap scented steam as he passed the bathroom.

“I don’t know why she needed a shower,” he thought to himself. “She rarely moves from the couch.” Earnest went into his room and shut the door.

“She must have needed to wash off the crumbs,” he said softly and smiled. Michael had been gone for over a week on military business and was due back in a few days. Ernest would be happy when he returned. The mutual animosity between he and Cathy made it uncomfortable to watch television in the living room if she was in there, which was all the time. Ernest changed out of his work clothes and was preparing for bed when Cathy knocked on his door.

“Are you too tired to grill some steaks?” She asked as soon as he opened the door. He was surprised at her question and stood in silence for several seconds.

“Uh…no, I guess not,” he replied. Both Ernest and Michael worked evening jobs and often stayed up barbecuing until early morning hours.

“If you make the steaks I will make a salad and some baked potatoes,” Cathy said. Ernest nodded in agreement with a strange look on his face.

“Alright, let’s make it happen chief,” she said in an unfamiliar upbeat tone.

“OK,” he replied and followed her into the kitchen.

“She must be on something,” Ernest though. He had never seen Cathy this nice. She pulled a couple of thick rib-eyes from the freezer and placed them on the counter.

“Do you want a beer?” She asked with her head now in the refrigerator.

“Sure,” he answered. She grabbed a couple of bottles and placed them next to the steaks. Several large potatoes quickly followed before she closed the refrigerator. Ernest, now over his initial shock, began to get into the barbecuing spirit. It had been a while since he had a good steak. Ernest, like most men from Texas, considered himself quite the chef when it came to grilling any type of meat. He grabbed bottles of various spices from a nearby cabinet and then placed the meat into a pan of warm water to defrost. He felt the month long chilly tension between Cathy and him begin to defrost as well.

Within an hour the salad was done and the steaks along with several foil wrapped potatoes were sizzling on the grill out on the back patio of the apartment. Ernest and Cathy had agreed on a DVD to watch and were now sitting together in the living room laughing at the movie playing.

“I never get tired of this flick,” Cathy said before taking a swig of beer.

“Yeah, this is a classic,” replied Ernest. He still thought she was stoned or something but was enjoying the sudden detaunt none the less. For weeks Michael had been hinting at a possible truce between Ernest and Cathy and would undoubtedly be pleased at their present efforts.

“I think it is chow time,” Ernest announced loudly as he stood up and walked out the sliding glass door to the back patio. While he was outside gathering the food from the grill, Cathy began setting the rarely used dining room table, which was in the living room since the apartment had no formal dining room. When Ernest returned the table was nicely set with the big bowl of salad in the center. They continued to watch the movie during diner and exchanged pleasant comments every so often. For the rest of the evening the two joked and laughed as if they were life long friends. Several hours later Cathy fell asleep on the sofa and Ernest wandered back to his room and finally went to bed.

Late the next morning Ernest started the day in his usual fashion, rushing to gather his clothes and grooming provisions in order to quickly get to the bathroom before Cathy could claim it. Going through his sock drawer in search of a matching pair, he suddenly remembered the prior evening. He slowly opened his bedroom door and peeked down the hallway. He could faintly hear that the television was still on. The door to Michael’s bedroom, where Cathy usually slept, was closed. Ernest felt weird and did not know how he would act around her. He grabbed his things and went into the bathroom and while showering he decided to just continue on as he had been the past month and wait for Cathy’s response or lack there of.

As he was brushing his teeth he remembered he had to be at work in a few hours. He mentally replayed the conversations he had with the rudest customers the day before as he now swished minty green fluid around in his mouth. Ernest suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of dread similar to an anxiety attack. He spat into the sink and then looked up at his reflection in the mirror and stared for a moment. He shook his head in disappointment at what he saw.

Sergeant Michael Olsen stood at attention in the formation that would conclude his annual two week drill. Summertime in the Fort Bliss Dessert and a diet of military food and MREs had taken their toll on him physically. He was a little thinner, a lot darker, and his lips were chapped and swollen. “Fall out”, the commanding officer yelled and Michael wasted no time getting to his truck. As he started the long drive from the National Guard Armory to his apartment, he realized he was now able to use his cell phone. He called Cathy on her cell phone but only reached her voicemail.

“Hey, I’m home. Where are you?” he said after the beep. He then tried the apartment phone but again was unable to reach anyone. Michael could not wait to get home and take a long shower then grab a cold beer, order a pizza, and of course spend a little quite time with Cathy.

Michael pulled into the apartment parking lot nearly forty minutes later and grabbed his duffel bag from the bed of his truck. As he made the walk up the brick pathway to his front door, he noticed the apartment looked dark inside. When he stepped into the apartment a foul smell greeted him at the doorway.

“Hey, can’t anyone take out the trash,” he yelled waiting for a response. There was none. He turned on the lights and walked through the living room doorway and suddenly stopped. The air left his lungs in a loud and low groan as his duffel bag fell to the floor. A pale grey Cathy was lying on the sofa. Her lifeless blue eyes were wide open staring directly at him as if she knew he would eventually be standing there. She had been shot several times in the chest. Sitting across the room, Ernest was slumped over in a chair. Flies danced around a massive wound on the side of his head. A pistol was still hanging from his shriveled and blackened fingers. It was not the trash that Michael had smelled.