by B Anders
LOVE IS A FINITE EXPERIENCE
* * * * *
KINDLE EDITION
* * * * *
ANDERS & PHAIR
* * * * *
https://www.facebook.com/#!/SGWBOOKS
* * * * *
Copyright © 2014 ANDERS & PHAIR
Your support and respect for the property of the author is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. All characters depicted are 18 years old or older.
Adult Reading Material
*****
Dedication
Life seldom gives us what we deserve. Mercifully, I got you.
In memory of my fierce protector, patient comforter, best boy.
Scout
1997 – 2008
Rest, my sweet dog, rest. I'll be home when my work is done.
*****
Book Blurb
Courtney snorted, "Oh, I suppose God doesn't like noise. Right, that makes sense. The maker of thunder, volcanoes, and opera singers doesn't like loud noise like she doesn’t like gay people and single mothers."
"Heretic," Harper mumbled with an amused smile as she reached for the front door of the small church. Neither expected the door to yield with a gentle tug. The surprise made Harper stumble backwards, and instinctively Courtney grabbed Harper by the waist to keep the other woman from crashing into her.
“Courtney!”
"Hey, I'm instituting martial law to override the no touching rule. If you're going to fall on me, I need to take a defensive stance to keep the both of us from hitting the ground. This is non-negotiable."
Harper glanced over her shoulder and winced, "Nothing wrong with hitting the ground once in a while. You should try it. At least from there, you can't fall any further."
"Oh, Harper, life isn't about failing. It's about climbing a little higher every day."
"So says you and Hallmark." Harper grunted as she stepped forward and away from Courtney. The feel of the other woman’s arms around her still lingering on her skin.
Reeling from the death of her beloved brother, Harper’s life finally spirals out of control when an audit from Corporate Headquarters sees her terminated from her own project. Cut off from the last thing anchoring her to reality, Harper attempts suicide only to fail, and find herself face to face with Courtney Denis, the woman who only hours before precipitated her breakdown with two words – “you're fired.”
Only this time, Courtney has an offer Harper cannot refuse. A road trip down to Florida. The two of them together.
****
*
There is just one life for each of us: our own. ~ Euripides
*****
October 11
“You can't. You can't leave me here, all alone, with them. It's not fair. I shouldn't have to lose you twice in one lifetime. But your skin is already cold, the air in your lungs, isn't your own. You've gone and left me behind. Again. I hate my own life standing in the shadow of your death. I love you.”
***
December 2
It was a picture drawn from a happier time. A pair of stick figure children together clutching hands with black oblongs on either side of their circular heads. Glider ears, they called them in their own private lingo. Her eyes lingered over the words written in a childish scrawl across the top of the page, ‘Love You’. With the first drop of rain, Harper folded the notepaper along the well-worn creases, before slipping it into the inside pocket of her coat, over her heart.
It was only during a brief break from the never-ending drizzle that she dared risked taking the picture out to look at the last words he ever wrote. It made her feel close to him. It had been raining endlessly for weeks. Or, maybe it only seemed that way because she couldn’t see the sky beyond the wind and the rain of her own tears. The morning’s downpour had pelted the loose sod at her feet turning the plot into a vast expanse of mud. She would have to speak to the caretaker again about putting a tarp over the grave until the marble headstone she ordered could be delivered.
Harper barely had her coat buttoned when the skies opened up again with a savage vengeance, but it didn't matter, not to Harper. The rain was no match for her tears as the mud was no match for the blackness caking her broken heart. Overnight, her life had become a bitter shadow against the quiet of his grave. A small wooden box buried under six feet of dirt was the only thing left that mattered to her now. All that was left of him for the world to see was at her feet drowning in the miserable rain.
"How?" Harper asked between her sobs. "How could you do this to me? How could you bear to leave me all alone? You were my best friend."
There was no answer. Just like always. There was no ray of light shining down from above revealing the reason why half her heart had to be ripped away. No ghostly hand, emerging from dust and stone, to dry her tears or halo anointed messenger to promise a reunion at some distant appointed time. There was only the chill of tears from a shattered heart running down her cheeks in the unceasing rain. Whatever benevolent deity she had once believed in had forsaken her. God had taken him away from her and left her bereft of any reason to explain her loss.
"I'll be back tomorrow after work. I'll bring flowers, the kind you like. You know, those you used to draw before..." The words caught in her throat. "It's not fair, you know. Not fair I had to lose you twice." Harper gave a heavy sigh before composing herself. "I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t your fault. None of it was ever your fault." Harper wiped her tears with a wet, frozen hand as she struggled for composure. "Maybe the rain will stop later. The weatherman said it might. I could sit and read with you like we used to do at the beach. That might be nice," Harper said, but only the rain saw fit to respond with a steady patter on her coat.
When Harper stood up, she felt the full force of her clothes clinging to her. Heavy, wet, and cold. She knew being out in the open soaked through to the skin was more likely to cause her hypothermia than being naked in the freezing rain. She slowly peeled her coat off as she walked over to the car. Popping the truck open with a press of the ignition key, she stuffed the coat in next to the folded beach chair before slamming the lid shut. Her shoes squeaking and squishing in the mud as she walked over to the driver's door.
"I'm already late," she mumbled. "Would five more minutes make any difference?"
Making up her mind, it would not. Harper walked back to the grave and spent another hour crying in the rain.
***
Slowing her steps, Harper could hear fragments of the conversation behind the glass doors. She recognized the sharp braying voice of the receptionist, Emily Jackson, but the other lower voice was unfamiliar. Racking her brain, Harper tried to remember if she was scheduled to meet with a client, but she knew she had blown the last one off a month ago.
"I can assure you, this is not how we do business," the woman with a knot of wiry hair gave a nervous laugh as if to emphasize the last word. "She must be held up in traffic because of the weather."
"Rain really doesn't explain the lack of a phone call, does it?" The well-dressed woman sitting in the lobby replied coolly as she took another careful sip of her coffee. "It's coming up past ten for an appointment scheduled with a hard start of eight." The woman's calm demeanor did not disclose the annoyance behind her words. "This does not reflect well on your office culture."
"Well no, I guess it doesn't." The receptionist muttered softly just as Harper entered through the same set of doors. "Oh, here she is now!"
The hint of relief in the woman's voice struck Harper as odd. It was no secret t
he receptionist hated Harper. In the four years they had worked together in the same office, their exchanges never amounted to more than the occasional grunt followed by a curt email, which Harper would read and delete. Lately, she'd been deleting them unread.
"Harper, your morning appointment from HQ is here," the receptionist said as she motioned to the woman in the waiting area.
Harper could see the tightness behind the smile on the receptionist’s overly bright pink lips. "I don't recall scheduling anything for this morning, Ms. Jackson."
"I scheduled the appointment for you yesterday."
Harper frowned, "Must have been after I left. I don't remember you telling me about an appointment."
"I left numerous messages on your cellphone after you left at noon," the receptionist stressed the word ‘noon’. "And, I sent you an email last night," the receptionist's voice picked up a nasty edge with her increasing annoyance. "And I sent a half dozen more this morning."
"An email? To me? You sent me an email this morning?" Harper was flustered as she pulled her cellphone out from a wet pants pocket. "Oh, fourteen missed calls."
Harper stared at the screen. It was the series of digits just after the recent wave of activity that stopped her scrolling. The number she knew would never call her again lingered in the phone log. The gut wrenching date, October 11 stood out as an epitaph. Her bloodshot eyes blinked hard once and would have started tearing if not for the droning voice coming from the other side of the desk. The dreaded dullness of reality pulling her back from the brink of emotional devastation.
"Harper, she has been waiting for over two hours for you," the receptionist’s anger was beginning to bloom, her voice betraying a rare loss of control.
"There's no reason to delay our meeting any longer trying to unravel miscommunications," the woman from HQ spoke up in an attempt to break the tension. "Traffic is always trouble when it rains. A courtesy call would have been a pleasant thought. Anyway, I had time to have my coffee. Two cups, actually," she said as she stepped up to Harper with an extended hand. "I'm Courtney Denis, from Corporate HQ in Seattle. You must be Harper. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Harper stared at the woman’s outstretched hand. Long seconds passed before the hand was hesitantly withdrawn. Only then did Harper lift her gaze. She noticed the woman flinched when they made eye contact.
"Why do we need to see each other?" Harper was nothing if not direct.
"Harper!" The receptionist snapped. "All the information you need is in your email."
Harper winced. She was already tired of everything, and the day had not even begun. Still, she was sure it was going to end badly for her.
"Harper, I'm here to discuss the 2014 project short list." Courtney paused a moment before asking. "Are you alright? Your clothes look soaked. You want to take a moment to dry out?"
"Oh don't worry about the suit, it's wash and wear. Don’t know what I’d do without it. You know how the weather is this time of the year." Harper dismissed Courtney’s concern with a bad joke.
Courtney flashed a tight smile. "Okay then, let’s get back to business. Omar Vigna, your regional in Clearwater, requested I pay a visit to this service location. You do remember the discussion, right? We were all on that conference call together last week. You were supposed to give us an update on the DED Project, but somehow you lost the file. That's when Omar floated the idea of me coming up here for a face to face review, and you agreed."
Harper remembered the call. There were half dozen districts involved, and she had slept through all of their reports. Omar had to call her name twice when it was her turn on the hot seat. She bumbled over her report, half done and filled with numbers that didn't add up. It was around mid-point in her babbling that Omar recommended a corporate visit.
"Right. Sure. I remember. Of course, I remember. Come on into my office and make yourself comfortable," Harper replied.
Courtney smiled broadly and walked passed Harper. "Already made myself at home. I've been here for a couple of hours already. There's coffee and doughnuts waiting for you on your desk. I stopped by Dunkin’ on the way over from Logan. That's okay with you, right?"
Harper stood a little longer before taking another look at her cellphone. "I'm willing to bet when I walk out of there it won't be my office anymore."
Emily Jackson waited for Harper to close her office door before pumping a fist up in the air with delight at her boss’ predicament.
***
Harper was somewhat reassured by the warmth of her coffee as the heat slowly defused outwards from the Styrofoam cup into her numb fingers. She did not believe the corporate troll could have been waiting all that long if the coffee was still hot, but Harper knew however long Courtney Denis actually waited was irrelevant. Judging by the piles of paperwork on the desk, Courtney used her time with remarkable efficiency. Folders Harper could not even remember she had were now labeled and sorted into neat stacks with just enough space left between the tilting piles for both women to work. They faced off across the desk from each other with Courtney sitting in Harper's chair.
"Harper, did you hear me?" Courtney's question finally caught Harper's attention.
Harper focused on the woman across the desk and nodded. "Not really but if you repeat yourself, I know I'll catch most of it this time."
"As I said, quarter one and two are on target. Your plan has enough bodies in the field, and existing contracts to generate projected revenues, even if employees dropped to sixty percent efficiency for one and a half weeks. It's optimistic, but without a storm or disaster, natural or man-made, it should be achievable." Courtney gave an audible sigh before looking away from the computer screen and right at Harper. "What happened to quarters three and four? The numbers are way off target. So far, they are almost fictional. What imaginary hat did you pull those out of?
‘God, I so badly want to say I pulled them out of my ass.’ Harper thought before actually saying, "I didn't realize I was so far off."
"No, that doesn't cut it. You want to tell me what happened? What did you start doing that was different?"
It was a simple question, and the answer was easy enough. Harper stopped making cold calls, arranging PR interviews, booking advertising, or any other of the hundreds of things she needed to do to grow the business. In the last few weeks, Harper had done little more than lock herself in her office and stare at the walls.
"I dropped the ball," Harper finally said.
"We already knew that. I just wanted to be sure that you knew it too. The question now is why did you drop the ball, Harper?" Courtney asked.
"I guess deep down inside I'm just a big ole ball dropper," Harper smirked and stared at the dismal piles of papers on her desk.
Courtney cleared her throat to speak. "Is that seriously how you want to address your performance issues? With a bad joke?"
"Given a choice, then yep!" Harper felt all fear leave her as the roller coaster of her career plummeted down the steepest of all inclines.
"Harper, this isn't a joke, and you’re not funny. We invested millions to get this startup off the ground and running. Omar sold the idea of DED to Bill as a done deal. Only now, it’s half ass done. Corporate doesn't have time to waste on non-performing investments. You want to be extremely careful how you answer me going forward. Tell me why you stopped doing your job."
"You know why," the smirk faded, and Harper's eyes stung wanting to unleash a flood of tears, but she held tight to her last shred of dignity.
Courtney gave a slight smile and continued. "I’m sorry for your loss, Harper. We all are. I know your brother’s death came as a shock to you, but that doesn’t explain how you could let everything just fall to pieces when there’s so much at stake. Harper, you do realize that you’re sitting on an opportunity others would kill to be a part of. It's not every day that something as big as DED comes around. You need to figure out how you intend to get over your brother's death and get back to work, and you need to do that right now."
"Get over?" Harper questioned the statement.
Courtney missed the sarcasm in Harper's voice. "Yes, move on. Get over it and get on with your life and do your job."
"The job I've been doing flawlessly for ten years," Harper challenged.
"The job you've been paid very well to do for ten years," Courtney countered.
Harper shot back, "You think this job is so important to me, I should just forget my brother died less than three months ago?"
"I didn't mean it to sound cold," Courtney said in a clear but stony voice. "Of course, the Company understands your loss is painful, but we all have to figure out how to deal with family issues within the context of our work. Harper, you should deal with your grief productively and move on. We all have to move on at some time or other. The Company is counting on you to do the job they pay you to do. And, that means right now, today."
Something inside Harper snapped. “Go fuck yourself.”
"You’re fired."
"I knew that."
***
"Lady, what you doing here? Hey Lady, you okay?"
The voice sounded so very far away. Harper ignored it. It wouldn't matter in a few more minutes. Nothing would. She was so tired. She was curled up in a fetal position on the muddy, unmarked grave. Her wet clothes caked with grime and dirt. The skin on her cheeks scratched raw from the wind, the rain, and the crying.
"Holy Shit! Pepi! Pepi get 911. She’s hurt. There’s blood everywhere." The voice was getting closer.
