Until Forever Comes

by Jerry Cole

  “Got it!” Bryce shouted back without looking.

  His head was bent over the table and he was just finishing up signing a bunch of documents he had to fax out before the night was over... yes, the night. It was six o’clock right now and despite the technical workday being done with, Bryce knew he had at least another two hours to go... three if this meeting with Mr. Stark went for too long.

  Bryce was quick to finish what he was doing. Although what he was doing was urgent, meeting with his boss, Mr. Stark was always the most urgent. Ordinarily, his boss liked to dictate via phone calls and emails. To actually have to go and speak to him was... well, it probably wasn’t good.

  As Bryce stood, he quickly tucked in his shirt to his pants. He hated wearing button downs, as they always became untucked and creased over the day. He then grabbed his suit jacket and put that on too. Again, he had no idea what Mr. Stark wanted to see him for but he figured it couldn’t be good, so he had to look his best.

  Mr. Stark’s office was the biggest on the floor, down the very end, in the corner. It was roughly the size of four cubicles, had its own door, its own bathroom and, most importantly, its own window. Fuck, the entire back and side wall was one large window, giving Mr. Stark a view of the entire city. This was made more impressive when considering they were on the twenty-fifth floor of their building.

  Most of Bryce’s colleagues described the walk to Mr. Stark’s office as “The Gauntlet.” They gave it this affectionate nickname because the act of walking to see him was always torture. Not only did you never know why you were seeing the boss, but the walk was long and it forced you to walk past each and every cubicle on the floor. It was almost like a reminder of who you were and where you never would be. It was a mental torture, one that seemed purposeful.

  But as Bryce hurried to see Mr. Stark, he decided that he didn’t mind the walk. For him, it was a reminder of where he would be one day soon. Yes, the hours right now were long, the work was hard and the social life was non-existent. But seeing all these cubicles pass by, and eyeing that closed door at the end of the office had Bryce thinking about his future... one that he knew would be good. It had to be!

  Bryce knocked on the door three times when he reached it. A pause, followed by a gruff “Come in!”

  Mr. Stark was who Bryce saw himself as in about five years. Young, handsome, and most importantly, successful. Even better, he was about ten years older than Bryce too, which meant Bryce had plenty of time to catch him. He also knew that when he was where Mr. Stark was, he wouldn’t be the same level of asshole. At least he hoped not.

  “You wanted to see me, Sir?” Bryce asked as he popped open the door and walked in.

  “The seat. Take it.” Mr. Stark didn’t look up as Bryce walked in. His head was bent over his desk, and he was scribbling away at only God knew what.

  Bryce made for the seat opposite Mr. Stark. As he did, he looked to his right and out the window at that glorious view of the city. It was just before sunset now, so the view was extra serene. One day, Bryce told himself... one day...

  When he did sit, Bryce was greeted with a very familiar sound: silence. Mr. Stark remained bent over for a few moments as he finished up. The pen scratched across the paper. Mr. Stark cursed under his breath and muttered to himself. But still he said nothing. Until he did.

  “Mr. Taylor. What do you have to say for yourself – and keep it simple, please. You know crocodile tears don’t work here.” Mr. Stark was a good-looking man, if not a little worn out. Graying hair, a few more wrinkles than he should have had, and bags under his eyes contrasted a classically handsome face.

  “Ah... I’m sorry?” Bryce tried. He blinked a few times. “I’m not sure what you’re -- did I do something wrong, Sir?”

  “What’s this?” Mr. Stark pushed a piece of paper across the desk and toward Bryce. Once he did so, he went back to whatever it was he was working on. Bryce didn’t so much as warrant a glance.

  Bryce frowned as he looked it over. It was the morning call sheet; a document of the time that every employee arrived and signed in for work each day of the week. And there, marked in red pen, were Bryce’s arrival times for the week. Each one was between five and ten past seven in the morning.

  “It’s the sign in sheet,” Bryce said as confidently as he could. But only because he knew that confidence was key here and that Mr. Stark would appreciate it. “For this week.”

  “And what does that say?” Still scribbling away, Mr. Stark pointed to the clock just above his head. “The time?”

  “Seven minutes past six o’clock,” Bryce said slowly, as if not sure of the answer.

  “So, you can read the time.” It wasn’t a question, and the plain, no-nonsense tone that Mr. Stark used suggested that he wasn’t joking around.

  “I... yes.”

  “You’ve been late every day this week.” Scribble, scribble, scribble. No eye-contact.

  “I... yes.” Bryce didn’t see the point in arguing. Everyone else in the office arrived between seven and half past seven, but Bryce wasn’t everybody else. He made a habit of getting in at six o’clock every morning, and as such it had become his official start time.

  “Is that all you have to say? Yes.” Scribble, scribble, scribble. No eye-contact.

  “I ah...” The corner of Bryce’s mouth began to twitch, and his knee started bobbing uncontrollably. There was a lot he wanted to say, none of it good. But instead of speaking his mind, or even trying to explain himself, he offered a meek, “It won’t happen again.”

  Scribble. Scribble. Scribble. Mr. Stark didn’t speak for a few moments as he finished up whatever it was that he was working on. And only then, after several long seconds, did he finally put the pen down and make actual eye contact with Bryce. “I like you, Mr. Taylor. I do.” He sure as fuck didn’t look like it.

  “Thanks...”

  “And that’s the only reason that I’m going to let this slide. But, if it happens again, if you are late to work again, if I even think you are slacking off for whatever reason, I’ll show you the door. There are a lot of people that want your job, Mr. Taylor. And each one, I promise you, will turn up on time every day. Think about it.” His expression was bored, his tone was apathetic and his posture was deflated. To Bryce, it sounded like he was going through the motions and didn’t give a shit at all. Really, he probably just didn’t give a shit about Bryce.

  “Thank you,” Bryce nodded with as much sincerity, and as little malice, as he could. “It won’t happen again.”

  Mr. Stark blinked once or twice. He continued to look at Bryce with that same bored expression for a moment more until, “Well? Don’t you have work you should be doing?”

  “Right. Yes. Thanks again.” Bryce hopped up and was quick to hurry from the office and back to his cubicle... but not before stealing one final look out that window.

  When Bryce arrived back at his cubicle, no one stopped in to see what Mr. Stark had wanted. Really, no one cared. And even if they had cared, they wouldn’t have wasted the time. Time was money here and small talk and chit chat were the antithesis of that.

  As such, Bryce went back to work. It was a little past six o’clock in the evening when he sat down at the cubicle, and he didn’t end up leaving until well after nine o’clock. As expected too, Mr. Stark left long before that, and the rest of the floor left soon after. But not Bryce. He worked and worked and worked. That was his life after all and had been since about the time he finished high school.

  Once upon a time, in a land far, far way, Bryce had dreamed of being a writer. He loved cricket – or he had loved it, when he’d had time to actually watch it – and would have killed to have made a living writing about it. But that now seemed as likely as learning to breathe underwater.

  Bryce was officially a working stiff and would be for a very long time to come.

  Truthfully, it was all pretty awful, and there were only two reasons that Bryce was able to hang on to his sanity... or what was left of it. First an
d foremost was the end game. Mr. Stark liked to ride him, but only because he knew that one day Bryce would be in his seat. It was a respect thing... at least that was how Bryce saw it. So, he worked and he took the shit, knowing where it was leading to.

  The second reason that Bryce was able to hang on the way he was, and also the reason he had been late every morning this week for work, was because of what was waiting for him when he got home...

  Just a little past nine, Bryce was out the door. On the way, he grabbed a quick meal from a nearby sub shop before jumping in a cab. It was Bryce’s go-to late-night meal, and he’d been there so many times that he knew the name of each worker, and they all knew his top five subs. It would have been kind of cool, if it wasn’t so sad.

  Once home, Bryce was quick to eat his sandwich, unpack his things, take a shower and put his pajamas on, all by ten o’clock at night. Ten o’clock was that magic time, the time he needed to be home and ready for, no matter how busy work was. Ten o’clock had of late became his favorite time of the day, and night, and as Bryce settled into his couch, stuffed in among the pillows, it was easy to see why.

  It was at exactly ten o’clock at night, on the dot, that Bryce’s home phone started to ring. He still got excited when he heard that sound, as if there might have been a chance that tonight it wasn’t going to happen. And his arms and legs still shook a little as he scooped the phone up – he had it in his lap, resting – and answered without delay.

  “Hey, hot stuff.”

  “If you saw how I looked now, you wouldn’t be calling me that.” Roman sounded tired on the other end of the line. But his voice was still music to Bryce’s ears.

  “Oh no,” Bryce pouted. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Pushy!” Roman joked. And then, “Just this shoot that I’m doing – I'm trying to explain to these guys that hired me, I’m not George Lucas. I’m shooting a promo for their light bulb store and they’re out here trying to get me to do a special effects scene with literal explosions and laser beams. I’m not even kidding. They drew up this scene where the screw-in light bulbs go to war against the pop-in bulbs and... and it’s enough to do your head in.” He groaned and Bryce could just picture him, on the couch with his feet up, rubbing his head to try and make the pain go away.

  “I’m going to be honest. I have no idea what you’re talking about... but I love to hear about it anyway.” He spoke with full sincerity.

  “I know you do. Thanks.” He couldn’t have sounded more serious if he’d tried.

  It had started out as a plan to meet up the next time Roman was in Sydney, which he had predicted at the time would be about six months after Ayers Rock. The two had enjoyed such a good time together, that it just made sense to actually try and organize an on-purpose catch-up. If they left it for the fates, it would be another three to five years at least... if ever. And again, it needed to be emphasized that they’d had far too good a time to allow for that to happen.

  When Bryce had first given Roman his number too, he’d only half expected for it to actually lead anywhere. What he had assumed was that they’d call once or twice and then it would just wear off. They were in the heat of the moment when they had exchanged numbers and were coming off some truly mind-blowing sex. So, one could forgive them for being a little excitable.

  Roman called Bryce the day after Ayers Rock, to see how his early meeting had gone. Then Bryce called Roman the night after that, just to touch base and bitch about something they had been talking about the previous day. Then Roman called Bryce the following day, then the day after that. The next day it was Bryce’s turn and before either of them knew it, they’d spoken to one another every day of the week and both had no intention of slowing down.

  It had now been three months since that glorious night at Ayers Rock and Roman and Bryce had spoken to one another nearly every single day. And those few days where they hadn’t been able to were always accompanied by an email to explain why they were too busy to talk.

  It was all so unexpected. Bryce had liked Roman enough, and if he had called six months after the fact and said he was in Sydney, then Bryce would have jumped at the chance. But this everyday thing... it was perfect for Bryce in ways that he couldn’t have predicted.

  Work was what took up nearly all of Bryce’s free time. And even when he wasn’t working, he was thinking about work, or getting ready for work, or doing something else that pertained to work! Even if he had wanted a relationship, he would have never had the time. But what he had with Roman worked, and that was just because it wasn’t a real relationship. There was no daily neediness or required time-off so it could be spent with the other or changing plans to suit someone else. Bryce still lived his own life... until ten o’clock struck.

  It was routine now, like brushing one’s teeth. Every night at the same time, Roman would call and every night, Bryce would be ready. For him, it was the perfect way to unwind from a tough day, and it made those extra hard days that little bit easier to get through. The only downside was that he’d been up late each night this week talking, which was why he was running late every morning. But Bryce didn’t care. It was worth it.

  “So, tell me about your day,” Roman asked once he was done complaining. “Tell me everything.”

  “You don’t want to hear everything,” Bryce sighed. “Trust me.”

  “Trust me, I do.” He sounded like he meant it.

  Bryce beamed and was glad that Roman couldn’t see him. Just the fact that he did care so much about the mundane things happening in Bryce’s life was... well, Bryce had never really experienced it before. It was uplifting in a way he would have never imagined. Is this why people liked relationships so much? It must have been.

  “Well... where do I begin?” Bryce lay back on the couch and got comfortable. Odds were he’d fall asleep here again, as he did most nights. “I got up a little later than usual—”

  “Half past five in the morning? Shock and horror,” Roman joked.

  “Closer to six o’clock. I was late to work again...” From there, Bryce unpacked his day and Roman listened. It wasn’t anything exciting, yet he sensed that Roman was genuinely interested.

  When Bryce had given Roman his number, he hadn’t known what to expect. At the most, he’d thought that he had made a friend he might sleep with again one day. At the worst, and the most likely, the number would be lost and forgotten, and he’d never hear from the guy again. What he’d gotten instead was... well, it was perfect.

  “...and that brings me to now,” Bryce finished up after some serious day-unpacking.

  “You weren’t kidding. That was boring —”

  “Hey!”

  “I’m joking. Gosh,” Roman laughed. “I loved hearing it.”

  “Same time tomorrow?”

  “Do you even need to ask?”

  Bryce blushed. “Silly me.”

  They spoke for another fifteen minutes, although speaking might be a bit of a stretch. Really it was just sounds, a little light chat, and not much else. Neither wanted to hang up the phone.

  But eventually they did; only when Bryce’s eyes became so heavy that he could feel himself falling asleep. And even hanging up the phone was hard, only made easy when Roman said, “I’ll call you tomorrow,” and Bryce responded with “You fucking better.”

  Bryce’s life right now wasn’t great. He worked too hard and had zero social life to speak of. But in Roman, he had found a shining beacon to guide him through the bad times. Was it going to go anywhere? And did Bryce even want it to? He had no idea. But that didn’t matter. He was content to ride it out and enjoy himself where he could. The two would be meeting up again in about three months and then they could worry. For now, Bryce was just happy to be happy. It was rare, so best to take advantage where he could.

  Chapter Twelve

  There were a lot of reasons for Roman to be excited about today. It was one of those days where he woke up early by accident �
� he had an alarm set for nine o’clock, but come six in the morning, he was wide awake with no chance of going back to sleep – and didn’t even care. It was one of those days that he had been looking forward to all week... all month... since he was in his early twenties, even if he hadn’t known it yet. It was just going to be one of those days.

  That morning, Roman had his first ever film production meeting. This was the first reason that his excitement levels were at an all-time high.

  For the past several years, Roman had been working on a number of sets in random media roles in an effort to “pay his dues.” When these were paid, he and his best friend, James McGuinness, started their own production company that specialized in making commercials. This was fun enough, good practice, and a way of working for himself that allowed for a certain level of freedom that Roman needed in his life. But still... it wasn’t his dream job.

  Well today, Roman’s dream job, what he had been working toward since his early twenties, was finally coming to fruition. That was what this morning production meeting was all about.

  As expected, James was waiting in his car outside of Roman’s apartment when Roman exited at exactly nine thirty in the morning. The car was already running, the door was open for Roman, and James was looking as eager as Roman felt.

  “How long have you been waiting?” Roman asked as he slid into the car and closed the door behind him.

  “Would you believe me if I told you I slept in my car overnight?” James joked as he put the car into gear and steered it onto the road.

  “With the engine running, right? Just in case.”

  “Just in case,” James nodded seriously. “Can’t risk being late, of course. How would that look?” He had a coffee cup balanced between his thighs, and he picked it up and took a very long, satisfied gulp. When he was done, he made that noise people make when they have their first coffee of the morning, a sort of “ahhhhh” sound like they’re literally drinking God’s elixir. “Plus, I’m fucking excited,” he finished seriously.