by Chad Josey
Where are they?
Pissed off, Joe walked into the bathroom.
They’ve watched us in the shower.
Joe opened the medicine cabinet, quickly closing it again. He saw no signs of any cameras or microphones. He inched his face closer inspecting the mirror above the sink staring into his own eyes. Fog from his nostrils frosted the glass.
Is this a two-way mirror?
Nothing was out of the ordinary. Joe stood before the sink cupping his hands in the running water washing his face. Refreshing, cold water dripped from his nose as he grabbed a hanging towel.
Screw it. If they’re watching me… they’re watching me.
Joe placed the towel back onto its holder and undressed. Delirious from his lack of sleep, he gyrated his naked body mocking the thought of anyone spying on him.
The tension in his body released as the hot water bombarded his head and shoulders from the shower. Joe stood motionless, his head pressed against the wall tiles. He replayed how he had wished his conversation with Mary had gone earlier when he came home.
Hey, Mary… oh, the trip? It went well. Yeah… um... like we’re all going to die. A freakin’ planet will collide with Earth.
He rinsed the shampoo from his hair, soap ran down his face. His body ached from its lack of sleep.
Are we going have to move? Hell yeah… we’re moving to Mars.
Somewhat refreshed out of the shower, Joe dried himself wrapping a towel around his waist. The fogged-over mirror had a clear, large streak diagonally across it from the side of Joe’s fist.
Oh… and there are cameras and microphones everywhere in the house, even at work, and we’re always being followed. Hope you don’t mind?
Joe brushed his teeth. His internal conversation continued with a mouthful of toothpaste and water.
Yeah… we can’t tell anyone… they’re all going to die.
He rinsed his mouth clean. “How long has anyone known about this?” Joe said out-loud in a higher pitched voice imitating Mary.
Uh, only since the ‘60s… the race to the Moon… it was a cover-up… the Cold War… another lie. Hell, who knows, maybe even the assassination of JFK was a cover-up for this shit.
Joe stared back into the mirror. The clear path his fist had made earlier fogged over again.
The person monitoring Joe, today, watched as Joe brushed his teeth in front of the mirror. A camera installed in the overhead light fixture provided a perfect, unimpeded view of his activities.
Joe walked out of the bathroom turning out the light. His Monitor watched Joe leave as the camera automatically switched over to its night-view lens.
A camera in the ceiling fan picked up Joe entering the bedroom. He sat on the edge of their bed putting on his socks. His Monitor switched to the camera in the power button of the television zooming in on Joe’s face.
“Hell, if there are cameras here, then watch this.” Joe stretched his arm toward the television extending his middle finger. “Screw you!” His final release of frustration into television eased his tension.
I’m going crazy. There was only one shot of Mary in the kitchen… there can’t be cameras everywhere?
Joe stood and dropped the towel from his waist throwing it across the room. His Monitor observed the towel land on the chair with the camera in the handle of the bedroom door activated by the motion sensor.
“Yeah, I’m being paranoid,” his Monitor heard as Joe got under the covers of the bed.
March 10, 2008
Stony Brook, New York
“JOE, WAKE UP. You’re going to be late, again,” Mary said as she entered the bedroom. She pushed Joe’s foot, sticking out from under the cover. “I’ve made your breakfast and would appreciate you eating with me this morning.”
He rolled over, looking at the green numbers on the alarm clock, teasing back at him 7:47 a.m. He pulled Mary’s pillow over his head to drown out the morning sun, piercing through the window.
“I don’t want to get up. Can’t we have breakfast in bed,” Joe yelled, knowing it would not do any good.
Joe threw the pillow off his face back to her side of the bed pulling his one foot, trapped under the cover, out. When he placed both feet on the cold hardwood floor, a shiver rushed through his body.
“Damn, it’s cold.” He yawned and stretched.
Joe staggered from the bedroom into the kitchen. The clanging sound of dishes placed into the sink became louder.
“We only had one egg left, so I made that for you,” Mary said, pouring two glasses of orange juice as she set the table.
“What are you having?”
“Just cereal,” she said with a terse tone in her voice. She poured the milk too quickly spilling it onto the table. “Dammit!”
Joe raised his eyebrow toward her. “Everything all right? I’m sorry I overslept a little.”
Mary wiped up the milk with a folded napkin she had laid out for breakfast. “Uh, everything’s fine,” she said in a short, quick fashion. She poured her milk again, slowly this time.
The spoon hitting the inside of her cereal bowl broke the awkward silence. “It’s just… it’s just, I checked this morning… and… we’re not pregnant again this month.” She continued eating, not making eye contact with Joe.
He placed his fork down with still half-uneaten scrambled eggs on its end. Joe took her free hand and said, “Oh, Sweetie. I’m sorry. We’ll keep trying—”
“Trying… that’s all we’ve been doing for three years now… is trying.” Tears filled her eyes. “When will this happen for us?”
Joe rubbed the back of her hand attempting to console her, as this conversation seems to re-occur every few months. “Have you noticed any difference in things from your medication?”
Mary used her free hand and rubbed the lower part of her abdomen. “The cramps are not as bad and my period has been more regular the past few months. That’s why when I was late this time, I thought this may be it.”
“You know I love you, right?” Joe turned his entire body around in his chair to face her. “We’ll keep trying and trying until the time is right.” Joe attempted to reassure her. “Plus, you know… trying is my favorite part.” He smiled and gave an evil, sarcastic laugh.
His joke made Mary smile. She looked up from the table and into his eyes. “Well, we are pretty good at trying, aren’t we?” She grinned finishing her cereal.
With her smile, Joe believed he had helped the situation, making her feel better. “Hey, so it didn’t work this month. But, it will happen when the time is right. Mary, I love you.” He kissed her free hand.
She released her spoon as it disappeared into the milk and placed her hand on the back of his head. “I love you too, Joseph.”
The morning conversation with Mary was fresh on his mind, as Joe entered his lab late this morning.
“Damn, Dude. Working banker’s hours, I see,” Charlie said as Joe hurried into the lab.
Stonehaven National Laboratories worked in association with the University of Stony Brook, allowing post-doc students use of their facilities. Joe’s mentor, Professor Baptiste, had retired years earlier, moving to Florida. Before Baptiste had left, he persuaded Stonehaven to grant Joe his lab and office. The timing worked well as his best friend, Charlie, needed lab space, also.
“Don’t start. It’s been a rough morning already.”
“Oh, you and the Mrs. have a fight?”
“No… no… not exactly.”
Charlie sat his pen down on the table and took a sip from his coffee mug with a picture of two little girls on it. The girls both had short, blond, curly hair. “Okay, tell me. The doctor’s office is now open,” Charlie said.
Joe turned his stare from Charlie’s coffee mug to him. “It’s another month of us not getting pregnant, and Mary took it pretty hard this morning.”
“Awe, Man. That’s tough.”
“Yeah, it is. But for me, what’s tough is seeing how sad it makes her.”
“Have you
visited a fertility doctor or anything?”
“She’s been diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. We can get pregnant with medications but the chances are very low.”
Joe poured a cup of coffee and returned to Charlie at the lab table.
“What kind of complications does that cause her?”
“Mainly, she has terrible cramps and her period can be a few weeks late or missed entirely.”
Joe remembered the day they had visited the doctor two years earlier, and had learned about Mary’s condition. The diagnosis came as a relief to them, as it had explained their struggles to conceive.
“I love my girls, but sometimes… sometimes, they can be an annoying pain in the ass,” Charlie said.
“So, says the man drinking coffee from a mug with pictures of his twins on it.”
Holding up his mug as if he had won a prize, Charlie said, “What can I say. They are Daddy’s little girls though.”
Charlie took one last sip, finishing his coffee, and sat his mug on the table. “Look, I know you guys want a baby, but maybe it’s all for the best. I mean, we are lowly post-docs. And, babies ain’t cheap.”
“True. And, that’s what gets me sometimes. Sometimes I wonder if things would have been different if I had taken that job in Paris. We would have money. Things wouldn’t be so stressful, and maybe we would’ve already had kids by now.”
“Or, maybe… Mary would have moved with you to Paris. Went into a cafe one day while you were working. Met some French dude and left your sorry ass,” Charlie said standing from his desk to place his empty mug into the sink. “Man, like I always say. Don’t live your life on a series of what-ifs. That will only drive you crazy.”
A few seconds had passed. “Charlie, how in the hell did you go from being the party animal in college to Dr. Phil just now?”
“It’s Becky. That girl done brought some sense into me that’s for sure. Plus. She is so fine.” The pitch of his voice rose thinking about his wife. “Joe, now in all seriousness. We’ve got work to do. So quit feeling sorry for yourself and let’s go.”
“Sir. Yes, Sir,” he said mocking Charlie as he walked over to the corner to put on his white lab coat.
September 29, 2008
Stony Brook, New York
THE TRAIN TRAFFIC to Stonehaven National Laboratories was terrible this morning. Joe arrived about an hour later than his usual 9 a.m. As he hurried into his office, Joe noticed the lab he shared with Charlie was dark.
That’s odd?
Charlie took pride in being early into the lab. In his words, going into the lab was his escape from his estrogen-filled house.
Joe unlocked the door to his office situated across the hall from their shared lab. He placed his backpack on the small sofa inside his office and sat behind his desk. His office was dark. Joe pulled the dangling-metal string of the black desk lamp. This brightened his tidy office.
Perfect stacks of paper sat in two piles on one corner of his desk. On the other was his double-flat screen computer monitor. Joe believed everything should have its proper place.
With his back turned to the open doorway, Joe’s name came shouting out from the hall. Charlie rushed in his office. His presence in the open doorway brought chaos to Joe’s meticulous space.
“Have you heard the news this morning?” Charlie’s chest heaved noticeably as he worked to catch his breath standing with an untied shoelace and half his shirt-tale untucked from his pants.
“No. Is it about the train system and is that why you’re late too this morning?”
“Hell no, Man. The news about the stock market?”
“Stock market? I didn’t know you owned any?”
“I don’t really. Only what’s in our 401k program through the University,” Charlie said as Joe logged on to CNN. Charlie stood over Joe’s shoulder.
“Something must be up if you’re in here talking about the stock market instead of some cartoon your kids made you watch this morning for the thousandth time,” Joe said as the webpage appeared with large, bold, black letters at the top.
“See… see… big news today. Stocks are already down like six hundred points in the first hour of trading.” Charlie placed his rather large index finger on his computer screen.
“I’m sure it’s temporary. It’ll go back up in a week or two,” Joe said, pushing his finger off his screen. “Watch the fingerprints, Man.”
“I don’t know… it’s getting bad. The stocks have been falling for months now. I don’t follow them too much, but I know it'll impact our retirement package.” Charlie stammered back in front of Joe’s desk.
“Well, then it’s a good thing I don’t have that much in my 401k now, huh,” Joe said as he scrolled down the webpage.
“How much is not much?”
“Well,” pausing as Joe looked way from his computer over to Charlie, “not much… like, as in zero.”
“What?”
“Bills, Man. We have too many bills to pay. I can't have any of my check going into 401k.” Joe lowered his eyes, realizing his response did not meet Charlie’s expectations. Joe looked again at the screen. “Well, I can look at the bright side. There’re some cheap stocks to buy now?”
“Man, you’ve got to get your financial house in order. We’re just lucky to be in academia, because if we worked for a company now, we might find ourselves out of a job soon. Have you read about the layoffs?”
“Layoffs? No, you know me. Between spending time with Mary and my nose buried in my research, I don’t pay attention to the news.”
“You should check it out. Tens of thousands of people are being let go,” Charlie said as he walked back through the doorway. “I’ll catch up with you at lunch. I have to go to the lab downstairs and cover for the teaching lab assistant there.”
As Charlie left, Joe finished reading the breaking news alert. His conversation with Charlie replayed in his mind.
If we worked for a company, we might be out of a job.
Joe opened a new webpage and searched for Sauvage Enterprises. His eyes widened. The search results returned one story after another about Sauvage filing for bankruptcy. A complete liquidation of all the company’s assets had occurred. The interesting item to Joe was the company had ceased to exist as of yesterday.
“Wow,” Joe said under his breath as he continued reading.
Joe learned since his interview, seven years ago, none of the programs Sauvage had planned to launch never exited the clinical-trail phase.
He closed his web browser.
Well, the bright side is, if I would have worked at Sauvage, I’d be out of a job.
Joe pulled the metal string of his black desk lamp. The room fell dark, except for the glow from the computer monitors. He stood and walked out of his office, closing the door behind him.
I wonder where all the money goes when the stock market crashes like this?
August 6, 2015
Stony Brook, New York
THE MIND GOES on automatic when one repeats the same mundane tasks, like traveling to work. You take the same route, day-in and day-out, and arrive at your destination not remembering the journey.
This was no different for Joe on this morning’s drive. It was like the countless others. Today was his day with the car, which he was proud he had kept running for so many years.
His car was the same Oldsmobile his grandma had given him as he left for college. With its faded paint, balding tires, and a small dent in the rear bumper, it contained many memories. Sometimes when driving through blinding rainstorms, memories of his graduation night with Mary would return.
“What the hell is that?”
The car lunged forward with its final breath as he pulled into his parking space at the lab building. “It’s gone. Great, just what we need now.” Joe snatched his backpack from the passenger’s side and slammed the drivers’ door in disgust as he got out headed to his lab.
“Good morning, Joe.”
“Yeah, good morning, Charlie.” J
oe spoke with quick short breaths between his greeting as Joe placed his brown bag lunch in the refrigerator.
“Jeez, someone woke up in a pissy mood this morning?”
“Awe, Man, I’m sorry. My car finally died on me this morning.”
“Well, it’s about time that classic died. Hell, what… it’s like as old as shit, ain’t it?”
“Yeah, it’s an ’89.”
“Damn, how many miles are on it?”
“Not as many as you’d think. My mama bought it new, but then got sick right after. My grandma had it.” Joe paused as he poured a cup of coffee. “We only went to church and one time down to Brownsville for vacation. The only real miles came on our drive from Texas to here.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you’ve got some paid speaking jobs from your research, because we don’t earn anything in academics.” Charlie belched his booming laugh distinctive to him.
“Thanks for reminding me.”
“You know what you should do? My dad just got a great deal after researching cars. Spend some time today doing that.”
“Well, I’m going to surf online because I sure as hell do not feel like doing any work this morning.” Joe shuffled off to his office with his head down in disappointment.
Joe turned on the lights chasing the darkness away from his office. The shimmering fluorescent light revealed research manuals stacked on the floor with scattered scribbled notes on his desk. It looked as though the janitor had overturned a recycling bin in his office.
Sitting in his chair with its gray, paisley fabric, Joe waited for his computer to boot. A blue, login screen appeared as Joe sat emotionless.
A new car? Wait until I tell Mary about this. Hopefully, I can find a good deal, or I will need to do more speaking engagements.
On automatic, Joe clicked away at miscellaneous links looking at information for different cars.
Okay, I am not getting anywhere. What I need to do is figure out what type of car, how much can I afford, and then try to…
Joe’s thoughts trailed off as he noticed his email icon in the lower right of the screen flashing. With a sigh, Joe clicked opening his email. “I bet this is another bill.”
