Chapter 1: Clem
Hi. I'm Clem, Clem Francis Oyster. Yes, that makes my initials C.F.O. You could say my parents had high hopes for me.
They're dead.
I'm currently working as a banker, which fits in an ironic way. I'm not the Chief Financial Officer of the bank, but it's straight work that I'm good at. Boring as hell, but I can deal. This position is better for my health, if you know what I mean.
In my former line of work, my life expectancy was always: yesterday. It made life more interesting, because it could end at any moment, but when it became routine, I knew I had to get out. Fast. So, I did the impossible, and I got out. And yes, I'd have to kill you if I told you how I did it, and that would really ruin my chances of staying straight, so knock it off, will ya?
As I was saying, I'm now working as a banker in a small town in Illinois, just far enough from Chicago that I won't run into my old colleagues unless they come looking for trouble.
Which small town? Nosy, aren't we? That's how you get your nose cut off, putting it in places it doesn't belong. It's small, and nothing happens here. Now, go play Google Maps roulette and do the work if you actually want to find me, wise guy.
For convenience, let's just say I live in Nowhere, Illinois. It's a one stop light town with a bank, a post office, a pharmacy, a florist, and a coffee shop. That's it. You can see the whole thing in two minutes, or driving through, if the light is green, miss the whole thing. That's why it's perfect for me. It's quiet, and no one comes here, unless they have family here, or they themselves lived here at one time. If my old colleagues came to find me, it would have to be intentional. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, to draw them here for any other reason.
Or so I thought...
I live in a bungalow, two blocks from Main Street. It's a little gray house with five rooms: a kitchen, a bathroom, a living room, an office, and a bedroom upstairs. It also has a basement. It's perfect for a bachelor like me, and like everything in my life now, I keep it completely clean. With five rooms, it's pretty easy to do, which suits me just fine.
The bank is on Main Street, and previously living in Chicago, it made no sense to me not to walk to work. Every morning, after waking up, and eating some breakfast, I walk over to the coffee shop to order three espressos, before walking over to the bank across the street. There was no reason for this morning to be any different. It was a typical Tuesday.
Nothing happens for a banker on Tuesday in a small town. Frankly, if I were running things, we'd be open Thursday (for those who get their pay checks early), Friday (for almost everybody), and Saturday (for those who worked late, or forgot to get to the bank after work on Friday). That's it. For the other days, I'd have an ATM. Easy. But that's not how it works in Nowhere, so I happily smiled and accepted my 40 hour a week position. I figured it was good for my recovery, and keeping my trap shut was a well learned skill I had no intention of forgetting.
Well, it was supposed to be a typical Tuesday, but it wasn't. I walked into the coffee shop and said, "Hi," to Marcie, the owner, sitting myself at the bar.
"Good mornin', Clem," Marcie said with her sly smile. "Will it be the usual?"
"Yes, ma'am," I responded, taking my phone from my jacket pocket, and looking for any interesting stories in the news.
"I don't know how you stomach this on an empty stomach, Clem," Marcie said,
"I don't," I said, looking up from my phone with a small smile.
"An early riser, huh?" Marcie continued, watching the espressos shoot out of the machine into three shot glasses. "I don't know how a catch like you, moved into a small town like this, and is single. Clem, do you just not get out much?"
"Not really," I responded honestly.
"I see," Marcie said. "Well, you should change that. You're a banker now. Bringing in good money like that, you could have any girl in this town that you wanted. Take Caroline over there. She works at the flower shop around the corner. Prettiest little thing. I have no idea why she's single either. But God works in mysterious ways..."
I looked over at the girl sitting in the corner of the coffee shop, reading a book. She looked like sunshine. No, she was sunshine. All sunshine, and rainbows, and probably glitter. About 5' 10", blue eyes, freckles, and strawberry blond hair. She wore a dress that matched the color of her eyes, and would never be seen anywhere in Chicago. She was sunshine for my cloudy day, and I couldn't take my eyes off of her.
"Clem," Marcie said, standing at the counter with my espressos. "Clem," she tried again when I didn't answer or turn towards her. "Clem!" she said slightly sharply, which caused me to turn, my elbow knocking one of the shot glasses filled with espresso on the floor.
"Aw... I'm so sorry, Marcie," I cursed. "Can I buy another one? Where's your rag? I'll help clean this up."
Marcie laughed. "If you ask that nice girl out, all four espressos are on the house," she said, smirking.
I looked at Marcie wide eyed for a moment, and decided she was serious. I nodded, stood, took a deep breath and walked over to Caroline. "Hi," I said. "Would you like company with your cappuccino?"
Caroline looked up from her book. I could tell she was looking over me carefully. This girl had been hurt, badly. I suddenly started thinking of what I would want to do to someone who had hurt a girl like this, and then realized I had gone straight, and if I did those things, I would never be able to spend time with her. A girl like her didn't have a boyfriend in prison, or my former line of work. A girl like her...
"No," Caroline said. "Thank you for asking, but I'm really enjoying my book. I only have 15 more pages, and I'd really like to finish it before my shift starts at the flower shop." She then looked back down at her book, and it was as if I hadn't said a word.
But she had given me a gift: she was honest. Completely honest, in fact. A quality I rarely found, in anyone. I knew immediately I had to get to know this girl better. "I don't expect you to talk," I tried again. "Is this chair free?"
"Sure," she said, this time not looking up. I sat in the chair across from her, pulled my phone back out, and finished reading the news story on increased crime in Chicago. Marcie brought me my espressos and mouthed, "Well?" I shook my head, she mouthed, "Sorry," and returned to the counter.
Twenty minutes later, Caroline looked up from her book. "Well, that was disappointing," she said, and began readying to leave.
"I'm sorry?" I asked.
"The ending," Caroline explained. "Totally not worth it. It was just another happy ending that is totally unrealistic, to tell you the truth. People are happy, but nothing is perfect. Perfect really doesn't exist, even in nature. Beauty exists. Harmony exists, in singular moments. But perfect? That's for the birds! What's your name anyway?"
"I'm Clem," I said.
"Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Clem," Caroline said, placing money on the table to pay Marcie. "I have to get to work."
I smiled. Yes, I would definitely see her tomorrow. Suddenly, there was something happening in Nowhere.
Chapter 2: Mr. Golden
Hi. I'm Clem, Clem Francis Oyster. Yes, that makes my initials C.F.O. You could say my parents had high hopes for me.
They're dead.
I'm currently working as a banker, which fits in an ironic way. I'm not the Chief Financial Officer of the bank, but it's straight work that I'm good at. Boring as hell, but I can deal. This position is better for my health, if you know what I mean.
In my former line of work, my life expectancy was always: yesterday. It made life more interesting, because it could end at any moment, but when it became routine, I knew I had to get out. Fast. So, I did the impossible, and I got out. And yes, I'd have to kill you if I told you how I did it, and that would really ruin my chances of staying straight, so knock it off, will ya?
As I was saying, I'm now working as a banker in a small town in Illinois, just far enough from Chicago that I won't run into my old colleagues unless they come looking for trouble.
Which small town? Nosy, aren't we? That's how you get your nose cut off, putting it in places it doesn't belong. It's small, and nothing happens here. Now, go play Google Maps roulette and do the work if you actually want to find me, wise guy.
For convenience, let's just say I live in Nowhere, Illinois. It's a one stop light town with a bank, a post office, a pharmacy, a florist, and a coffee shop. That's it. You can see the whole thing in two minutes, or driving through, if the light is green, miss the whole thing. That's why it's perfect for me. It's quiet, and no one comes here, unless they have family here, or they themselves lived here at one time. If my old colleagues came to find me, it would have to be intentional. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, to draw them here for any other reason.
Or so I thought...
I live in a bungalow, two blocks from Main Street. It's a little gray house with five rooms: a kitchen, a bathroom, a living room, an office, and a bedroom upstairs. It also has a basement. It's perfect for a bachelor like me, and like everything in my life now, I keep it completely clean. With five rooms, it's pretty easy to do, which suits me just fine.
The bank is on Main Street, and previously living in Chicago, it made no sense to me not to walk to work. Every morning, after waking up, and eating some breakfast, I walk over to the coffee shop to order three espressos, before walking over to the bank across the street. There was no reason for this morning to be any different. It was a typical Tuesday.
Nothing happens for a banker on Tuesday in a small town. Frankly, if I were running things, we'd be open Thursday (for those who get their pay checks early), Friday (for almost everybody), and Saturday (for those who worked late, or forgot to get to the bank after work on Friday). That's it. For the other days, I'd have an ATM. Easy. But that's not how it works in Nowhere, so I happily smiled and accepted my 40 hour a week position. I figured it was good for my recovery, and keeping my trap shut was a well learned skill I had no intention of forgetting.
Well, it was supposed to be a typical Tuesday, but it wasn't. I walked into the coffee shop and said, "Hi," to Marcie, the owner, sitting myself at the bar.
"Good mornin', Clem," Marcie said with her sly smile. "Will it be the usual?"
"Yes, ma'am," I responded, taking my phone from my jacket pocket, and looking for any interesting stories in the news.
"I don't know how you stomach this on an empty stomach, Clem," Marcie said,
"I don't," I said, looking up from my phone with a small smile.
"An early riser, huh?" Marcie continued, watching the espressos shoot out of the machine into three shot glasses. "I don't know how a catch like you, moved into a small town like this, and is single. Clem, do you just not get out much?"
"Not really," I responded honestly.
"I see," Marcie said. "Well, you should change that. You're a banker now. Bringing in good money like that, you could have any girl in this town that you wanted. Take Caroline over there. She works at the flower shop around the corner. Prettiest little thing. I have no idea why she's single either. But God works in mysterious ways..."
I looked over at the girl sitting in the corner of the coffee shop, reading a book. She looked like sunshine. No, she was sunshine. All sunshine, and rainbows, and probably glitter. About 5' 10", blue eyes, freckles, and strawberry blond hair. She wore a dress that matched the color of her eyes, and would never be seen anywhere in Chicago. She was sunshine for my cloudy day, and I couldn't take my eyes off of her.
"Clem," Marcie said, standing at the counter with my espressos. "Clem," she tried again when I didn't answer or turn towards her. "Clem!" she said slightly sharply, which caused me to turn, my elbow knocking one of the shot glasses filled with espresso on the floor.
"Aw... I'm so sorry, Marcie," I cursed. "Can I buy another one? Where's your rag? I'll help clean this up."
Marcie laughed. "If you ask that nice girl out, all four espressos are on the house," she said, smirking.
I looked at Marcie wide eyed for a moment, and decided she was serious. I nodded, stood, took a deep breath and walked over to Caroline. "Hi," I said. "Would you like company with your cappuccino?"
Caroline looked up from her book. I could tell she was looking over me carefully. This girl had been hurt, badly. I suddenly started thinking of what I would want to do to someone who had hurt a girl like this, and then realized I had gone straight, and if I did those things, I would never be able to spend time with her. A girl like her didn't have a boyfriend in prison, or my former line of work. A girl like her...
"No," Caroline said. "Thank you for asking, but I'm really enjoying my book. I only have 15 more pages, and I'd really like to finish it before my shift starts at the flower shop." She then looked back down at her book, and it was as if I hadn't said a word.
But she had given me a gift: she was honest. Completely honest, in fact. A quality I rarely found, in anyone. I knew immediately I had to get to know this girl better. "I don't expect you to talk," I tried again. "Is this chair free?"
"Sure," she said, this time not looking up. I sat in the chair across from her, pulled my phone back out, and finished reading the news story on increased crime in Chicago. Marcie brought me my espressos and mouthed, "Well?" I shook my head, she mouthed, "Sorry," and returned to the counter.
Twenty minutes later, Caroline looked up from her book. "Well, that was disappointing," she said, and began readying to leave.
"I'm sorry?" I asked.
"The ending," Caroline explained. "Totally not worth it. It was just another happy ending that is totally unrealistic, to tell you the truth. People are happy, but nothing is perfect. Perfect really doesn't exist, even in nature. Beauty exists. Harmony exists, in singular moments. But perfect? That's for the birds! What's your name anyway?"
"I'm Clem," I said.
"Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Clem," Caroline said, placing money on the table to pay Marcie. "I have to get to work."
I smiled. Yes, I would definitely see her tomorrow. Suddenly, there was something happening in Nowhere.
Chapter 2: Mr. Golden
Beautifully done....~Caren~
ReplyDeleteBeautifully done....~Caren~
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