Unwanted Fate

by A. Gorman

  “Aneesa, Kane’s expecting me.”

  “I’ll let him know you’re here, Mr. Matheson,” she says in between chomps of her bubble gum. She puts the nail file down and picks up the phone.

  I step away from the desk so I don’t have to hear her talk and chomp gum.

  “Mr. Matheson, Mr. Nichols said go on in.”

  “Thank you, Aneesa.”

  She nods her head and resumes filing her nails. I shake my head as I walk by her desk and enter Kane’s office. I close the door behind me and think to myself, I’m going to nail this proposal.

  “Patrick, good seeing you, what can I do for you?”

  “Well,” I begin, “I found a few non-for-profits that could really use some help…” I laid out the plan in front of him, knocking the presentation out of the park.

  “Sounds like you’ve done the figures. I’ll run it by the board, but I’m sure that they won’t have a problem, especially since a few of the guys are retired military.”

  “Great. I have copies of these numbers in my office, so I’ll leave everything with you.”

  “I’ll let you know tomorrow after we meet,” Kane says, putting the file in his portfolio.

  “That works. I will be out of the office. I’m playing a round of golf with Sanders tomorrow.”

  “Ah, so you’re the poor SOB that got roped into that.” He shakes his head, feeling slightly sorry for me.

  “Have to keep the man happy.” I smirk.

  “He has a killer swing after a few beers. Keep him sober if you want to win.” He chuckles.

  “Thanks for the heads up,” I say with a laugh. “Have a good evening.”

  “You too, Patrick. We’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.” I walk out of the office and see Aneesa is still doing her nails. I chuckle to myself, as I walk down the stairs to the parking garage to retrieve my car. Time to grab an early dinner and a few drinks at the tavern down the road, because tonight I’ll be here working on other financial reports that need to be turned in next week.

  I awake a few moments before my alarm is set to go off, and at five thirty, “Sister” by The Nixons fills the room. Tears stream down my face and onto my pillow. This was Nate’s song for me. He would sing it to me each time we spoke on Skype, and our last video chat plays over in my mind. My brother was so happy to be coming home in a few months, but instead, he came a few weeks ago.

  My eyes burn with tears that haven’t fallen yet, my chest aches with the grief I feel, and my body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. Reaching over to where my alarm sets on the nightstand, I turn the blaring thing off. Silence fills the room and for a brief moment, I wish I hadn’t turned off the music.

  I allow myself to mourn and pull myself together to get up and get ready for work. Most people aren’t happy to return to work on Monday’s, but I love my job. I love the people I work with, the kids at the center, and I love helping people better themselves or making sure they have the necessities to survive.

  Returning to work will help me also get my mind off Nate’s death by returning to my much needed routine. Oh, Nate, why did you have to leave us so soon? I don’t know if I’ll ever understand the why, but at least I have almost twenty-four years of amazing memories with him.

  When he enlisted in the Navy, it was the first time we had been a part for more than one night. Growing up, it was just Mom, him, and me. Nate and I had the super-twin bond, and we always knew when one of us was thinking about the other and within minutes of that thought, we would get a text or a phone call. When he died, the feeling was there but faded, going from a warm, fuzzy feeling to a bitterly cold emptiness, a void that I’d never felt. I knew something had happened to my brother, but I never thought that he had died until my mom had called me when the officers made their appearance on her doorstep.

  The tears threaten to return, but I will them not to fall. I roll out of bed and get to my typical morning routine, shower, dress, and eat. If this were a typical day, I would have a minimal hair and makeup routine, but I need to address the dark circles under my eyes before I eat breakfast.

  Since I took longer than normal putting makeup on, I have to rush through breakfast to make it to work on time, and run out the door. I don’t have to be in my office until eight since my position is the Community Outreach Director, but I like to get there around seven to see the children before they go to school to make sure they are doing well and have full bellies.

  I pull into the Project Hope Community Center parking lot at five till seven, and I check myself in the rearview mirror, making sure I look decent. Even though the center is full of children, my position consists of meeting with people who need assistance. When I’m not busy with clients, I often play basketball in the gym with the children.

  I’ve always loved children, and I’d planned on working as a school counselor after graduating with a degree in social work. When I saw this position online, I instantly applied for it, although I doubted I would get it due to my lack of experience. However, since I did community service through AmeriCorps giving me experience in the non-profit sector, had “phenomenal” references, my boss’s words, and she liked me from the moment we met, she offered me the position the day following my interview.

  As I walk to the door of the community center, I think about the two and a half years I’ve been here. I feel like I’ve made a difference in the community, or at least I hope I have. This position is rewarding in so many ways I’ve lost count. I feel at home here. I won’t say that what I do is a piece of cake, because it’s not. There are children here with abusive pasts, children that go hungry at night, children that have one or no parents, children from every walk of life that attend the center.

  I try to be their friend, someone they can confide to, and some days, the replay of the events that have happened in their life away from the center and school has my stomach rolling. Even though I try to be here for them, they still get lost along the way and run away from their problems. A few of the girls from the center have gone missing, three in the past few months. Eight girls have vanished without a trace since I’ve been here—that’s eight too many.

  Other stories fill me with joy as they tell me that their parents got a new job, they got a bed to sleep in, or things that I take for granted. Sometimes I get to meet their parents as they see me for assistance, and I try my best to help those that really need the help.

  Opening the heavy glass door, the familiar mustiness of the center hits my senses and comforts me. My heels click on the concrete floor as I walk to the main office that sits to the right of the entrance. I am the first of the office staff to arrive, so I have to juggle my purse and briefcase in my arms to find my keys I absent mindedly threw in my purse. Finally finding them, I unlock the deadbolt on the door, and walk through the threshold, turning the lights on as I go to my office to unlock the door.

  I feel relieved as I get back into my normal routine as I push my door open and place a stopper under the bottom to prop it open, and turn on the lamp that sits on my desk. The light instantly shines on the picture of my brother, mom, and me at my brother’s boot camp graduation. I bite my lip to keep it from quivering. Maybe I shouldn’t have returned to work yet, I don’t know if I’m able to be here, but I know that Nate would be upset with me for putting life on hold.

  Picking up the framed picture, I sit down in my black ergonomic office chair, and run my fingers over my brother. “Oh, Nate, I miss you so much…” I say to the picture of us.

  A knock at my door interrupts my thoughts and I look up to see who is at my door, Victor Avro.

  “Hey, Victor,” I say as I set the photo on my desk and try to compose myself. “How are you this morning?”

  “Hi, how are you… I’m mean…that was silly of me to ask,” Victor says, fumbling with the files in his hands.

  “You’re fine, thank you for asking.” I offer him a small smile. “I’m doing okay. I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

  �
��I’m sorry. If there is anything you need, please let me know.”

  “Thank you…” I remember I have Nate’s clothing in the rear of my Rogue. “Are you busy right now?”

  “No, I was getting ready to make some copies of these files,” he says as he holds up the files he was fumbling with moments ago.

  “Do you mind helping me carry in some bags of clothes? I think we can get them all in one trip.”

  “Yes, of course. Let me place these files in my mailbox and I’ll be back to help.” He turns and walks out of my office.

  While he goes to the mailboxes, I turn on my computer and lock up my purse and briefcase in my desk drawer. With my keys in hand, I walk out to the main office door and wait for Victor to return. A few moments later, he meets me at the door.

  “All set?”

  “Yes. Are these clothes for the kids or for the Place Hope Closet?” he asks as I lock the main office door.

  “I thought I could split them between the two. I didn’t realize how much clothing my brother had. There are things with the tags on them still that I thought could go to the Closet. I’m sure someone would enjoy getting something brand new.”

  He nods and we walk outside to my SUV in silence. I click the unlock button on the key fob and open the back door to get the bags of clothes out. There are four shopping bags full of clothes. Mom refused to put them in trash bags as she said, “Your brother’s clothes aren’t trash,” and she dug out large bags used for Christmas time purchases.

  “Do you think we can get them all in one trip?”

  “Yes, I think I can get them all.”

  “Oh, no. I can carry a couple.”

  “Okay, can you hand them to me so you can shut the door and lock it?”

  I nod and I pull out each bag one by one, handing them to Victor. I pull out the last one and don’t hand it to him. He scrunches up his nose in frustration, but I can carry at least one bag.

  “I got this one. Let’s take the bags to my office and I can sort them.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “I’ll get the doors since your hands are full.”

  He laughs and shakes his head at me, as if he doesn’t know what to say.

  We get the bags in my office and the smell of my brother fills my small office. I smile, knowing that a little bit of him is here, and I look up at the clock on my wall and notice it’s seven thirty. A few of my favorite kids should be here and I walk toward the brightly painted cafeteria, and can hear the sound of children laughing and talking filtering down the hallway. I put a smile on my face as I walk in the double doors and see the children. They are exactly why I need to be here today.

  Seven forty-five. Ten minutes after Kristin found me in a drunken haze at my desk, I’m running like a thoroughbred on the treadmill, trying to sweat the alcohol out of my system. After gaining some clarity and running eight miles, I go sit in the sauna to finish pulling the residual alcohol from my body.

  I stumble out of sauna as I head to the locker room to shower and dress. I’m glad I don’t have any meetings until one o’clock today, because I need to get my head on straight. Before stepping into the shower, I check my phone to make sure I didn’t miss anything while I was sobering up.

  Looking at the messages and phone call log, I notice my sister called about twenty minutes ago, and I know she’s probably heading to class, so I don’t call her. I put my phone up, retrieve my shower bag from the locker, and head to the bank of showers around the corner.

  Twenty minutes later, I dress in a crisp blue and white striped suit with a royal blue tie, and I’m ready to face the day. On the way down to my office, I notice my sister has called again, and still didn’t leave a message. I wonder if she’s accidently dialing me? Who knows. I’ll call her around lunch time, so I don’t bother her.

  I make it to my office, and Kristin has cleaned and organized everything to make it look like an office, not my living space. A cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich sit next to the keyboard. I unbutton my jacket, sit down in my oversized black leather chair, and flip my computer screen on. While it flickers to life, I take a sip of the black coffee in front of me, and it is the perfect temperature. As the smell of the sandwich hits my nose, my stomach growls, reminding me I’ve not eaten since brunch at the country club yesterday.

  The new email notification pops up on the screen, so I click the notification box and read the email. I check the other messages while I drink my coffee and eat. A phone call should have been placed instead of sending me multiple emails on the same topic. I push my empty cup off to the side and pick up my office phone to call the financial analyst under me to address the pressing issue that is sitting in my email.

  “Good morning, Patrick,” Neil Rodhe says after the second ring.

  “Neil. My email is blowing up this morning with reports of no growth for this quarter. We were projected to have at least five percent growth.” The line goes silent. “Neil?”

  He clears his throat. “This is the first I’ve heard of this. Let me see what I can find out—”

  “You should have been the first to know about the potential shortcomings. You’re the manager of the department. Be in my office at noon and tell me what the hell is going on.”

  “Will do, talk then—” I slam down the phone, not waiting to hear any more of the BS excuses from his mouth.

  I press the button on the intercom for Kristin. “Yes, Patrick?”

  “Neil Rodhe will be here at noon for a meeting. Cancel my 1 pm appointment, clear my schedule for the rest of the day, and have lunch delivered in. Thank you for the coffee and sandwich this morning.”

  “You’re welcome. Do you need anything for the meeting?”

  “Yes, please get me the projected growth reports for this quarter and the actual growth year to date reports.”

  “Will do.”

  “Thank you.” I remove my finger from the button and get to work figuring out what the hell has happened to our projection numbers.

  Kristin knocking on the door and entering my office pulls me away from the reports I’ve been looking at since she brought them to me this morning.

  “Lunch is here.”

  “Place it on the sideboard, please. Neil should be here in a few—” He walks in before I can get the rest of the sentence out. “Kristin, please hold my calls.”

  “Yes, sir. Mr. Rodhe.” He nods as she walks out the door.

  “We can sit over here so we can eat lunch while discussing the numbers. I hope there is an explanation behind the emails I received.” I look him in the eyes, he quickly darts his eyes to a folder in his hands and places it on the table. “Drink?” I ask as I hold up a bottle of water and a Coke.

  “Water is fine. I ran the numbers myself, Patrick. And whoever had entered the projections last week made a huge error,” he says, rummaging through the stack of papers. “The projection is on track for five percent. The analyst completely left out India’s number. They are the driving force right now.”

  I place the water and his lunch on the table and I do the same with mine. Taking a drink of water, I let it flow over my tongue, hydrating my mouth. “Do you know who would forget such an important piece of information?” I’m concerned because neglect like this can cause people to lose their positions.

  “A newer employee, I’ve reprimanded her,” he says, but it sounds like he is making excuses to me. His lack of eye contact makes me wonder if there is something else going on that he isn’t telling. I’ll let it go for now.

  “Sounds like she might need to be retrained, please make sure that she is,” I say between bites of lunch.

  “Good idea. I’ll get on that when I return to my office.” He crosses his legs and uncrosses them, trying to get comfortable.

  “While you’re here, we will go over all the financial reports of every department so we can address any other issues.”

  “Okay,” he says with a slight look of disgust on his face.

  “You have time, right?�
��

  “Yes, of course.” He sits rigidly in the chair.

  “Good. Let’s get underway,” I say with a slight smile and a nod.

  Three hours later, we’ve gone over every line of the twenty-six page report. I’ve highlighted some areas that are showing in the red and I’ll address those numbers with the corresponding department.

  “Thank you, Neil, for getting this straightened out.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Make sure that your employees follow the correct protocol next time.”

  “I’ll make sure it is addressed when I get to my office.”

  “Please copy me on the memo.”

  “Will do. Anything else?”

  “I think we are done for now.”

  “Okay, if you think of anything else, give me a call. I’ll be in the office the rest of the day.”

  “Thanks, Neil.” He stands up and I stand with him, offering him my hand. He hesitantly shakes it, and he seems slightly aloof. I’ll have to ask Kristin if she’s heard any rumors about him.

  I walk to the door and open it for Neil, and at the sound of the door opening, Kristin turns to face me.

  “Mr. Matheson, you have a few messages. Also, your sister called and said it’s important that you call her as soon as you can,” she says as she walks over to me, handing me the messages.

  “Thank you, Kristin,” I walk to my office, closing the door behind me, pick up my cell phone off my desk, and sit in my chair. I wonder what is so important that Addison couldn’t leave a voicemail for?

  I search through my contacts, looking for her number and press send when her name appears on the screen. The phone rings and rings, and I think it’s about going to voice mail and I hear her voice.

  “Patrick…it’s Dad,” she hoarsely answers.

  “What happened?” I ask without emotion in my voice.

  “He had a stroke. It’s not looking good.”

  “Where is he?” I couldn’t care less about my father, but I won’t tell my sister that. She doesn’t know anything that I lived through with him. You’re worthless. I was seven when she was born, and she only saw the good of Dad. To her, he is the best father ever, but she didn’t have to live through his abuse, both mentally and physically. Honestly, what the SOB gets is what he deserves.