Don't Cry for me Margarita

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Don't Cry for me Margarita Page 3

by Jeff Dvorak

shouldn’t have put off.

  One, single, lonely hanger was dangling from the rod hanging above. As he went to turn the garment towards him, he already knew what it was and it wasn’t something that brought forth happiness in him.

  While in high school, his girlfriend Mary had dragged him to an ’NSYNC concert. He had a good time and the tunes were catchy, but he wouldn’t be caught dead there and only went because she was such a fan. She had bought them both matching tour shirts and his now sat in the closet, having never been worn. The shirt had outlasted the girlfriend.

  As he took the hanger down, looking at it in the light of the bedroom, he tried to put a positive spin on it but found the exercise pointless. The only thing he could come up with was that it was brand new. It was a black shirt from their 1999 tour and had the band name in the center. Around the name floated all five heads of the band members with ridiculous expressions on all their faces. It was quite possibly the worst shirt ever made, but it was all he had.

  He slipped the shirt over his head and of course, it fit him perfectly. He started digging through the pile, pulling out jeans and giving each one a sniff, hoping to find one pair that wouldn’t be embarrassing to wear, to which he had no luck. What he did find, on the shelf above the closet rod, was a pair of plaid shorts which matched the concert shirt in one regard: they were both brand new. The shorts were a green and blue plaid and were bought for him by his mother a few years back when she found them on a clearance table.

  He put on the shorts and went to look at himself in the bathroom mirror. He looked horrible but at least everything he was wearing was new. He could probably come up with some sort of joke during the presentation, as long as he could still get there on time.

  Shutting off lights as he went, he made his way towards the front door and grabbed his winter coat out of the front closet. He checked for his keys and wallet, had both and went out the door, finally heading to work only two hours late.

  --

  The snow outside had gotten worse since he climbed in through the window, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t driven in before. From the backseat, he grabbed a brush and quickly cleaned off all the windows so he could see where he was going. He got into the car and put the key in the ignition, fully expecting the car to remain dormant, but it fired up right away and was strong. He looked up to the sky and offered a quick thanks and put the car in gear. Putting his arm across the top of the passenger seat, he turned his head to back out of the driveway. As he was getting ready to take his foot off the break, he stopped, noticing a snow plow coming down his side of the street, clearing the road. He would just wait for it to pass.

  So much snow had fallen that as the plow made its way, it was leaving huge mounds of snow in its wake and Jack’s driveway was no exception. As the plow passed the driveway, a good two-foot snow drift was left to block the path. Not being able to waste any more time, Jack put the car in gear and floored it, planning to just break through the obstruction.

  He slammed the pedal to the floor and for a few seconds, the wheels spun in place before gaining purchase and rocketing backwards towards the snow. He didn’t have enough room to build up any substantial speed and when the car reached the snow drift, the drift won and the car came to a stop.

  Quickly Jack jumped out of the car and grabbed the snow shovel leaning against the garage wall. Running towards the mound, he dove over it like he were in the army and diving into a foxhole. He quickly started shoveling snow out of the way of his car. He was making quick work of the snow but in his zeal to clear a path, he left his car in gear and as soon as the resistance lessened, the car began rolling back towards him.

  Before it had a chance to run him over, Jack tossed the shovel aside and jumped, spread-eagle, across the trunk of the car, going along for the ride. Down the driveway, across the street and to the curb at the other side, the car wasn’t moving too fast, not fast enough to jump the curb, but fast enough to throw Jack from the trunk as the curb stopped the car’s progress.

  Flying backwards, he landed with a muffled thump on the lawn of the house across the street. Surprisingly, he was left unhurt as the falling snow which began the night before was sufficient enough to break his fall. He thought about just lying there, letting nature take its course and allowing him to freeze to death, but he felt he was in the home stretch now. He looked at his watch and had half an hour until the meeting and work was only ten minutes away. He might even have time for a quick cup of coffee before his presentation; wouldn’t that be a treat.

  Hidden underneath the snow, he rose like a Phoenix from the ashes and strode confidently towards his car, ready to travel the remaining distance and secure his promotion and maybe a little respect at the same time, clothing options notwithstanding. He got into the car, put it from reverse into drive and started heading in the direction of work.

  --

  He drove to the end of his block, came to a complete stop at the stop sign and put his left blinker on, signaling his desire to turn in that direction. He looked left, looked right and then looked left again and when he saw both ways clear, he pulled out into the cross street to head towards work.

  He proceeded like a man with a body in the trunk, not wanting to be pulled over by Johnnie Law, on his way to a disposal site. All he wanted was to make it to work and put it all behind him. At this late hour and with the conditions of the road, the streets were mostly devoid of cars and he was having a nice and easy drive.

  He was on a four-lane road, two in each direction, and up ahead he noticed the light turned red so he started his stop in plenty of time before the intersection. When at a stoplight, he would usually choose the lane with fewer cars, but at that moment, each lane had one car. He chose the left lane, hoping that driver might go a little faster.

  Both cars ahead of Jack were Buicks, one blue and one red. The owners of the two cars were Mavis and Millie, sisters for some seventy years, which was also about as long as they had been bickering. They liked each other, for the most part, but the competition between the two ladies began shortly after Millie was born and Mavis had to share the attention.

  Millie, in the blue Buick, looked over to her right at Mavis. Raising her right hand, she put on a lace doily glove, wiggling her fingers making sure it was on snug. She proceeded to do the same with the left. The whole time offering up a scowl that could easily melt the snow around them.

  Mavis, in the red Buick on the right, noticed her sister’s display and pointed two fingers at her eyes, then pointed them at Millie and then pointed one finger straight down the road in front of them. Both women gripped their respective steering wheels at the ten and two position and the race was on; all they needed was for the flag to drop.

  Jack, sitting behind them, noticed the dramatic display through the snow covered back windows but had no idea what to make of it. What he did know was that there were no cars coming or going in either direction, but they had been sitting at that light for what seemed like forever.

  Up ahead, the two women sat, eyes focused on the red light waiting for it to turn green so another chapter in their sisterly competition could be written. The light turned green, depressed brake pedals turned to depressed gas pedals and the race was on, if you could call it that.

  The two women couldn’t have been going faster than five miles an hour and neither woman got out to a lead. Jack almost rode straight up the back of the blue Buick but stopped himself just in time. He followed the two women through the intersection and then passed them to the left, going a steady ten miles an hour and blowing past them like they were standing still.

  The rest of his drive to work was uneventful and he pulled into his parking lot at work with fifteen minutes to spare. An eternity after everything he endured throughout the morning. There was even a spot right up by the front door; he cleared all his obstacles and he was finally being rewarded.

  Chest held high, he threw open the door and crossed the threshold. Martha was sitting to his left at the receptionist desk and
he deflated a little. It was she who started this whole mess the evening before, but he wasn’t going to hold that against her and he gave her a little smile.

  “Hey Jack, only two hours late after the night you had, I’m impressed. Hey, I’m going to be out all day tomorrow for a doctor’s appointment and I just wanted to wish you luck today on your presentation tomorrow, I’m sure you’ll knock them dead.”

  Jack was just reaching for the up button on the elevator when he stopped dead in his tracks. He reached down and pulled the phone out of his pocket and opened up his calendar. Sure enough, it showed his presentation on Thursday at 10:00 a.m.; it was currently Wednesday at 9:45 a.m.

  He turned and looked at Martha with a hangdog expression, walked back towards and then through the outer door and went back to his car.

 


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