I Come Alive In This Place Where I Once Died

She leaned against the railing of the balcony. There were the pillars of identical white high-rises. Each pillar was surrounded by a neatly trimmed grass lawn. Uniformly dressed people walked in and out of the buildings to do their evening business. Cars precisely drove in traffic and parked. They were small, tiny, distant, and somewhat unreal.

The spot twenty floors down right beneath the railing hypnotized Jen. She stared at it, studied it, and observed it.

Lost in time, she snapped around when the door opened behind her. A young man her age stood there. He was skinny. His thick hair was long on top and styled to hang down on one side. He had the jeans legs turned over at the bottom. The jeans rested low on his hip with an oversized belt. His arms were sinewy like that of a martial art fighter.

"Hey Jen, I heard you were back."

"Lee, it's been so long since high school."

Lee stepped forward with a big grin. Jen opened her arms. He bent a little forward. She wrapped her arms around him. Hi hand went under her skirt and pulled her black thong down to her knees. Then he stepped back. She blushed. She felt the air on her butt and sex. The black thong was rolled up in a bunch on her knees. Lee had a mischievous smirk on his face.

"What the fuck?"

"I'm not a little boy anymore."

Lee carefully pulled on the front of her skirt to keep it from raising, while she pulled up her thong with the other hand from behind.

"You could get arrested for this!"

"I know that you have American blood. You are trouble now."

She smiled a little. "Lee, I remember you studying hard every day. You don't even have your glasses anymore."

"People change."

"I can see that."

"The Singapore underground is exploding. There is this new sex drug. It's super illegal. It's super crazy. You get these visions. And you can fuck for hours. We have super-secret parties on fishing boats at night."

GOING BACK TO THE SALT MINE

Nel's eyes were closed. The heart monitor beeped. There was a knock at the door. Dr. Schwartz walked in with a flying white coat and black, little mousy eyes. Nel's gaze grazed the cheery colored cards and the vibrant flowers on his night stand. Dr. Schwartz adjusted the gold clip on his black tie.

"Well, Nel, it's time to go back to the salt mine. Promise me, you'll take it easy. 20% of your cardiac tissue died during this episode. You are not the same anymore."

"Thank you for all the care."

Nel rolled onto the side to sit up in his gray sweats and white t-shirt. His belly was big. His bare feet slipped into the white hospital slippers. He pulled the wheel chair close. The wheel chair was wide to accommodate fat people. The fabric was vinyl for easy cleaning.

The last of his sick days at home followed a strict regimen. Buy fresh produce at the farmers market in the morning. Go for a long walk in the hills in the afternoon. Do ten minutes of meditation at tea time. After dinner, journal the day to better understand his stress factors.

And when he was standing in his pajamas with precisely flossed teeth in the dark apartment, he'd smash little things. The curtain cords had a little plastic ball at the end. He smashed those -- one a day. After those had been smashed, the little water container to refill the clothes iron had been smashed into the wall. He preferred plastic plates over porcelain once, because he could smash them harder with deeper rage before they broke.

After the five second flare up of rage, he'd calmly collect the fragments with the broom and put them into the trash. There was nothing he could do to prepare for the return to work or to avoid having to work. Then, he'd go to the bedroom, lift the sheets, slip under, and fall asleep on his back.

The first day back at work, everyone stood around his desk. They had nursed his little succulent plant next to the Dell screen and Microsoft keyboard during his absence. They wanted to see the phone app for his pacemaker -- Bluetooth pacemaker, state of the art. The conversation topics quickly ran out. An awkward conversation about hacking Bluetooth pacemakers ensued.

When everyone had left, he used the peace and quiet to log into this computer. Access denied. He tried again. Then, he turned around, "Jeannette is the IT help desk still downstairs?" So, he walked down there. The idyllic duck pond was just outside the help desk office. The scrawny Russian guy with three gold chains didn't even look up: "Bro, I'm busy with a virus. Whatever it is, it has to wait."

So, Nel pulled a chair and waited at the corner with his hands folded, doing his breathing exercises calmly.

"What do you want?" said the Russian guy, while pulling fish pieces out of his mouth.

"I've had a prolonged absence. My password is no longer working. My LDAP is nbrinkman."

"Fixed. It'll take about an hour to propagate," said the Russian guy while hitting the keyboard.

Nel walked back up the stairs, meandered through the corridors of project plan postings and still life photo shoots of the company product, sneakers. He sat back down at his desk. He looked out of the window to follow the Seattle clouds moving around in conspiracy. Every five minutes, he tried the password without success.

After two hours, he calmly walked back down the pilgrimage path to the Russian guy. "Still no joy." "Ah, this fucking Chinese guy from the after-hours shift totally messed up your account. That tool deserves a prize for coming up with such creative destruction of my perfect setup." The Russian guy took two gold rings of his fingers to type faster. "Try again in an hour. I swear on my mother's grave."

Nel nodded, left, grabbed a cookie from the kitchen, and walked into the bathroom. He carefully washed his hands until the last co-worker had left. Then, he neatly placed the cookie in the center between two sinks. A smile flashed over his mouth. His fist flew high into the air under the light. With the entire weight of his body, he smashed the fist down on the cookie. The soft side of his hand hit the green, wooden counter hard. The sound was sharp, yet somewhat understated. The cookie pulverized. He grabbed a paper towel and neatly wiped the cookie crumbs together.

A co-worker walked in. "I dropped the cookie by accident." "Why would you bring food into the restroom? What is wrong with people?" He adjusted his big belly in the shirt and pants before he walked out.

By 4 PM, the account was finally re-activated. Nel logged into his e-mail. It was in the low four digits. He smiled and combed his hand through his slicked back hair.

"...Jerome is going to take over Nel's project in his absence..."

"Hey Nel, I canceled your college outreach, because there was nobody here that wanted to take it over..."

"Hey guys, I have to start over with a completely new design on Nel's project. We have to put the launch back by two month. Jerome."

"...It's bonus time. The company leadership decided to double your bonuses. Hooray..."

"Guys, my design failed. Nel's design accounted for various things that I didn't anticipate. Sorry, the launch has to be pushed back again. Jerome"

"Nel, as you understand, the bonus is performance based. As you have been out the entire quarter, I can't give you a bonus. I really would like to. It's company policy. You'll understand..."

"...congratulation to Jerome for his well-deserved promotion. He rescued the Walk-Like-An-Egyptian project, which Nel dropped..."

"Guys, I had to cancel the project. There were too many delays. It's no longer relevant. We should have probably never started it in the first place. Jerome"

A melodic, upbeat knock on the desk made Nel swivel around in his office chair. His leather shoes landed 180 degrees on the other side. Robert, Nel's boss, smiled big, wrung his hands. He wore a neat blue suit with a striped tie.

"Everyone is so glad that you are back, Nel. What have you been doing today?"

"My e-mail..."

"Uh-uh," Robert wagged his finger in the air, "things have changed. We are only talking about accomplishments, not busy work. What have you accomplished in your first eight hours back?"

"Um, nothing."

"Don't worry about it. I want you to take it easy. We don't want to cause you another heart attack. But, I need you to hit the ground running. Jerome has been pulling double duty in your absence. His is working on a sorting algorithm with constant time."

"There has been extensive research. The fastest sorting algorithms are logarithmic."

"Jerome is a real innovator. You could learn something from him."

"Of course, I look forward to learning what we are working on now."

"Actually, that's what I was going to talk to you about. We need you to work the weekend. We are really trying to improve the executive leadership by getting a new prototype done for their Monday meeting."

"Is that the new secure checkout that Adam has been working on for a year? Didn't he say that in a year, he got a quarter done at most?"

"Yes, that's it. I'm so glad that everything is coming back to you."

"Okay, if he is a quarter done in one year, it'll take three years to complete it. And that's unless, he underestimated the work, which is very common in software engineering."

"Then, you just have to work faster."

Robert tapped Nel friendly on the shoulder and walked away. Nel stared at the Indian skinny kid with the white XXL shirt and the sleeves rolled up to his arm pits. The kid's eyes looked bugged out with panic. The skin on his face was brown. The desk was littered with printouts of computer code. A colorful stress ball from Yahoo rested on his desk.

It was 5 PM sharp. Nel stacked the health benefit HR papers into a neat stack. He wiped down his tie, swiveled on his heels, and walk out, just as the doctor had ordered him to and the HR lady had insisted on. That night, Nel placed the tooth paste, dental floss, and tongue scraper back into the drawer under the sink. In a shot of rage, he slammed the drawer into the closet with all his might. The explosive smack of wood on wood eased the muscles in his neck.

By Thursday 3 PM, he told the Indian skinny kid, "I'll check with usability testing in the far office for the new metrics." Then, he calmly walked out of the office building. He crossed the street with the plethora of cars circling for parking spots, waiting on parking spots, and struggling to rear park into tight spaces. He jay walked right across the mess of cars. A bike messenger swerved around him. Neither of them said a word or looked surprised.

There was a dive bar. The inside was dark. There were only a couple old patrons inside. There was no decoration. The place smelled of stale beer. The bartender had an old, dirty wife beater shirt on with a handlebar mustache. He was sweeping the floor giving the place an air of not being ready for business.

"We take only cash."

"That's fine. I'd like four shots of whiskey and four glasses of water."

The bartender got serving plate out from under the counter. He stacked it with shot glasses and big water glasses filled with ice. The establishment door was open. The day outside was bright. Pedestrians were bustling past the bar. The bar was dead and motionless.

"Twenty Four."

Nel put dollar bills on the counter. Liquid soaked into them. He picked up the tray and walked to the darkest corner. In near darkness, he slipped into the leather booth. He slipped his leather shoes of his dress socks. He put his feet up on the upholstery. He kicked back the first shot and chased it with water.

Then he stared out into the light. He felt the whiskey tang in his throat. He felt his belly warming. He felt his mind mellowing. His eyes adjusted to the dark environment. In the booth one over was a young girl, perhaps eighteen years old. She was dressed upscale with a pencil skirt and a big hand-sized bow on the back of her dress. Her lips had big red lipstick. Her face had a lot of foundation. Her fingers were carefully painted in a pattern by a nail spa. She was slumped over the table.

"Hey, I know you. You are the new girl at the reception."

"Oh, this is so embarrassing. I'm sitting here in a dark bar and am crying. I thought nobody would find me here."

"Don't worry about it. We are all here in the darkest corner of a dingy corner bar for a reason. You need a shot. Here, this will fix you up."

She got up. She was skinny. Her feet were in platform high heels. The platform was two inches. It seemed heavy. She was unstable lifting her feet. She wasn't used to walking in high heels. Her ankles were swaying and threatening to bend over.

Seeing her face up close, he realized that her makeup was heavy yet poorly done. She had put the effort in, yet lacked the experience. He pushed her one of the shot glasses. She knocked her head back to take it. He used the moment to stare at her breasts. She had pushed them up with a bra. The cover of her top was barely high enough to cover the areola. There was a nice pressed, skin on skin, spot between her breasts.

"There is this girl at work. She wants my job. I started collecting a petition from co-workers that would vouch for me that they prefer me. Then my boss told me to take a break and think over what I had been doing. I think she doesn't know how to handle me. Henry, Joe, and Rob went to her boss. And they chanted a demonstration in front of her office to not let me go. They so stand up for me. But my boss hates me. What is up with her always being in my face like I don't know how to behave in an office? I'm always trying to be friendly to people and make friends."

"I think you need another shot."

She knocked her head back as far as it went and sucked the whiskey in. Then she slumped back in the booth. Her lower back was horizontal. The booth back pushed her chin onto her chest. Her legs fell open. He saw the white panties underneath the dress.

"It's alright that you are staring up my dress. I'm not so uptight, AS THAT FUCKING UPITY BOSS BITCH."

"I had a tough day myself. In fact, every day is stuff -- a constant struggle, no finish line. I have to force myself back into that office every day, force myself into that box. I can't take it anymore. So, I came here."

"You need a fuck buddy."

"Wanna go to the restroom? I don't care if you get me fired for sexual harassment. I don't give a fuck anymore."

"Come on!" She got up. Her young body was skinny and lanky. She swayed struggling with her heels and the confines of the dress. She pushed the wooden door open. The room was lit by an old 60 Watt incandescent light bulb. I stuck a broom under the door handle to block it.

Then, I lifted her up onto the sink counter with her face toward the sink. She knelt on the counter. I pushed up her dress. I zipped my pants open. I put my dick inside of her -- just as matter of fact as that. Her face was two inches away from the mirror. I thrusted inside of her. I pushed my pelvis forward. She moved her hands across the mirror as if trying to hold onto something. Her mouth opened like an O from pleasure and then it was like she was trying to kiss her mirror image with a big open mouth. Steam formed on the mirror. Her gentle, elfish fingers drew lines in the steam layer. She found the paper towel dispenser box. She hugged it like a teddy bear, cradling her bobs against it.

All the while, I fucked her. I fucked her with dull motion -- in and out. There was no rhythm to it. There were no kisses. It was a mind numbing fuck of in and out and watching her in front of me motion around the mirror like a snake that raises itself up against the window in the zoo. It leans to the side and kind of tries to go somewhere. But there is nowhere to go.

Her face became slack, kind of otherworld. She was deeply gone inside of herself, inside of the pleasure that she felt -- into her feelings, into her dreams. My dick kept fucking her pussy. I lazily grabbed her boob. She seemed to like it. But then I went back into just fucking her and feeling the life somewhere deep inside of my re-igniting.

I politely withheld my orgasm until she came. She politely waited a couple complimentary thrusts after I had jizzed inside of her.

"You didn't put a condom on, did you?"

"Sorry, I forgot. We are in another day and age."

"It's cool. Don't worry about it. Meet you again here tomorrow at 2 PM?"