"One thousand days." Jason sat hunched in front of a coffee table in the small living room of his apartment, staring sightlessly out his front window at the coming dawn as he chewed the last bite of cereal. He slowly stood and stretched before shuffling across the living room floor, past the reclining chair where she used to read, the closet where she'd kept her clothes and entered the kitchen where she used to cook, dumping his empty bowl in the sink.
"One thousand days." He mumbled as he looked at the empty bed piled with the rumpled sheets that testified of another night of sleeping alone, of bad dreams and sleepless perseverations. He stripped off his workout clothes, showered and shaved before climbing into his usual dark conservative suit, knotting the tie savagely before turning his back on the image in the mirror to leave his lonely apartment for work.
"One thousand fucking days." He said out loud as he walked through the garage toward his car, recollecting another, far more painful walk. After leaving the church that day, he'd essentially staggered to his car, barely making it with the help of his father and Brian. The drive home was barely tolerable, his father insisting on taking the wheel, talking to him in the most soothing tone a rough mannered, grizzled man could manage, trying his best to convince Jason that the world would go on and that life would eventually be ok. His father stayed with him for a week while Jason barely came back to life, first nearly catatonic, then incoherent and finally listlessly depressed.
"One thousand days and this is still the best part of my day." He sighed, pulling into the garage of the Prairie Tower, taking the elevator absentmindedly to the 42nd floor. He made his way to his corner office, nodding at the janitorial crew-the only people on the floor at this time of the morning-before sitting behind his desk and firing up his computer. This place was a refuge for him, an out of the way, corner office in which the intellectual appeal of numbers and graphs and models could seduce and occupy his mind just enough to chase out the memories that tortured him. Memories of romantic kisses, gentle lovemaking and holding hands in the park made painful by memories of betrayal, of tearful confessions, of a gold ring pinging against a tile to rest at hem of a wedding dress.
At the insistence of friends, he had, on separate occasions, attempted to venture out onto dangerous ground; specifically, he'd had 5 dates with 5 different women. All of the dates were awkward, with forced smiles and sporadic, uncomfortable conversation and none of them were successful enough for either party to even consider a second effort, all of them ending relatively early without even a kiss on the cheek. After the fifth date, some 6 months before, Jason came to the conclusion that he wasn't ready to interact with women in general, let alone date, and he recommitted to isolation.
And so, he sat in his refuge, his office, his inviolable space that protected him from exposure to other people, from the pain and the bother of human interaction and from the danger associated with forming relationships. The one and only place where he felt comfortable, the idea of usefulness substituting for companionship.
But, at the close of every day, office hours ended and Jason had to go home, to his TV set, his computer, his books, and his empty, cold, lifeless apartment. And, he was gradually discovering that he could not sustain, indefinitely, the life of a high tech hermit and that, even for him, some minimal amount of social intercourse was necessary. So, that night, instead of going directly home, he had decided to do something different, to try going to a social function, a party that Brian had encouraged him to attend with a degree of enthusiasm that bordered on coercion.
Leaning back in his office chair, his hands folded in back of his head, Jason worried about the discomfort he'd feel later that evening and, for a moment, considered blowing it off. But, he pressed his lips together and shook his head imperceptibly as a look of determination came over his face and stood to get his car keys.
*******
The house was large, nearly a mansion, set on a street crowded with other near-mansions. There were cars everywhere, filling the driveway, parked on either sided of the street, two even parked carefully on the lawn. Jason eased his car into a small space a block or so from the house and texted his arrival to Brian as he made his way slowly through the parked cars. By the time he reached the front door, Brian had come outside to meet him, smiling broadly, nervously shifting from one foot to the other as Jason approached.
As if to keep him from turning and running away, Brian threw an arm around Jason's shoulders and quickly drew him inside. Despite its size, the house was crowded with people, milling around, laughing, watching a baseball game, playing volleyball in the back yard and eating barbecue and drinking beer.
Brian took Jason from room to room, showing him off to old friends and introducing him to new acquaintances at a frenetic pace, men greeting him with welcoming shouts and slaps on the back, women with flirtatious smiles and small talk.
To his surprise, Jason was enjoying himself and, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt something akin to confidence when he interacted with the women. After an hour or so of roaming through the house and sampling the food and entertainment, Jason and Brian settled into a raucous game of pool being played in the large recreation room.
By the time Brian left to get a couple of beers, Jason was feeling comfortable enough to wander around some more, eventually making his way to a media room where he ran into Buddy Johnson, a pleasant, chubby ex-classmate who'd made a temporary home for himself next to a table stocked with potato chips and dip. Buddy gave Jason a wide smile.
"Hey, Jason. I haven't seen you for a while. How're you doing man? Want some chips? There's barbecue outside too."
"No...no, I'm good right now." Jason smiled back and then nodded to the large TV screen that was currently playing a commercial. "What are you watching?"
Buddy swallowed and then fished his tongue through his mouth before answering.
"Ah...yeah, we just finished watching the Cubbies lose...in extra innings." Buddy rolled his eyes in disgust before continuing. "But it just got changed to some movie. When it's over I think they're going to hook up an X Box for some games. I think it's almost done, so it won't be long if you want to play."
Jason nodded at Buddy's response and casually stood in back of a couch crammed with people as the movie came back on. He nodded in recognition as the movie came back on, biting his lip and starting to rub his hands together anxiously as he recognized the story.
It was end of The Graduate and he watched as Benjamin Braddock, the Dustin Hoffman character, abandon his gas less car and set out on foot to frantically make his way to the wedding. Arriving to find the doors to the church locked he eventually made his way to a glassed in wall at the back of the chapel. Jason swallowed hard twice and began breathing rapidly through his nose as he watched Braddock bang on the glass and shout "Elaine" over and over to get her attention and then turned pale as a sheet when Elaine turned in response to Braddock and, after spotting him, in a move that caused absolute chaos, abruptly left the chapel in a rush and escaped with Braddock on a bus, leaving her fiancé behind.
The informal audience, which included not only those on the couch but several couples lounging on the floor, were clearly amused by the scenes. Two of the men, who'd had rather a lot to drink, started shouting 'Elaine, Elaine' as the scene played out while others laughed and giggled. Jason, though, found himself leaning over, his hands on his knees as if he was suddenly light headed or even nauseated. One of the women, passing by to get a snack, placed a hand delicately on his back and gently asked if he was ok. He stood, embarrassed, and looked around the room at all the people who had so loved the idea of a woman leaving a man at the altar for someone who evidently offered more.
He looked to the woman, a small, olive skinned Latina with a concerned, faltering smile, shook his head and, without saying a word, bolted for the door.
*****
