I really didn’t think this was where I was going to be today. I woke up this morning with the same mundane weltschmerz that comes with the painful clangor of my alarm clock waking me up in the morning. The sky was dull, the snow was cold, the sun was hidden behind some clouds. For all intents and purposes, the day sucked. But I had gotten used to it. I never thought that it would end like this though. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I’m not happy—I’m just confused.

    This is the point of the story where I should really explain what’s going on.

    After showering and brushing my teeth, I turned on the television. I opened the fridge and chuckled at the dearth of real food. I had a six pack of Leinenkugel’s, half a Domino’s Hawaiian pizza, and some moldy string cheese. Grabbing a beer and a slice of pizza, I sat back down on the couch and began watching some inane talk show. It was something like “Stripper Midgets and the Men who Love Them” or “My Husband Cheated on Me with my Sister, Mother, and Best Friend.”

    The phone rang. Being in no mood to talk to anyone, I chose not to answer it. I really had no reason to wake up so sullen. I guess I have just been moody for the past couple years. It all seems kind of silly now. It all just seems like it doesn’t matter.

    Anyway, the call went through to voicemail. “Hey, Rick…” My name is not Rick. “I haven’t seen you in a while. I was thinking about… you know… that thing that happened. I really liked it. Can we.. um… hook up… I mean meet somewhere. Call me back. I got a new cell. 920-555-2212. I’d love.. I mean I’d like to hear from you again.” I don’t know what made me do it, but I called.

     “Hello?” She answered the phone with a bit of shock in her voice. “Rick?”

     “Um.. yeah. What’s up?” This is the point of the story where I am the biggest idiot in pretty much the entire world.

    “Wow. Haven’t heard from you in a while. Wanna… get together?” Every common sense portion of my brain was telling me to hang up the phone. I kept thinking over and over again that this was the stupidest move I’d ever made. To exacerbate the situation, I knew that I was going to say yes. I knew that all shreds of dignity, decency, and common sense had flown out the window by this point.

     “Yeah. Sure. Where?”

     “There’s this Chinese restaurant at 55th and Grant. Let’s say, meet in about an hour?”

    “I’ll see you there.” I hung up the phone forcefully. I cannot believe I did something that impetuous. Think before you act is like my middle name. I kept telling myself that it had happened but I wasn’t going to go. I couldn’t go. I knew I shouldn’t go. But let’s be honest, at this point, we both know that I was going to go.

    I threw on some clothes—a wrinkled t-shirt, torn jeans, and Adidas sneakers. I had no clue what I expected to happen, but I knew that I was bored with my day. Worse, I was bored with my entire life.

    It seems incredibly postdictive now to say that dialing that phone was the cause of the end of my day.

    I got to the restaurant a little early. It was this squalid little hole in the wall. The burnt sienna walls have paint chipping off in various places. Signed pictures of second rate local celebrities hang on the walls with catchphrases like “Thanks for a great meal!” or “Best General Tso’s in town!”  It seemed to me that there was every reason in the world why no one was inside besides people who worked there. This place reeked of dive.

    I grabbed a booth along the wall with my back to the door and waited for this whoever it was to show up. The waiter came over and mumbled something half-English and put some tea on the table. I muttered that I was still waiting for someone else and he went back to the kitchen.

    Then she walked in. I don’t mean to be all film noir but she was every detail of the women in every cheesy, black and white detective story. She was the paradigm that all women are measured against. She was Marilyn Monroe, Angelina Jolie, and Jessica Rabbit all rolled into one. She was beauty then, now, and forever.

    She walked to my table, gave an odd look at me and sat down across from me. “It’s been a while,” she started. “You look different. A lot different.”

    This is the point in this story that I wish I could say that I left. Every pragmatic bone in my body was trying to stand up and get the hell out of that place to somewhere safe that made sense again. But I was way too far past that point. This was an auction and I had been sold to the captain of the crazy ship as his first mate.

    “Are you ok?” She asked. The weird thing is that it was the first time I ever truly felt that someone wanted to hear the actual answer to that question. It wasn’t her guilt or verbal filler. It seemed to be that she wanted to know about me. Well, about who she thought I was. And I was willing to be that person she thought I was just to spend another second with her.

    “Actually, no. I’m a little confused about why I’m here.” Her face blushed away from me and she got very quiet.

    “I just needed to see you again. You remember Mike, my boyfriend?” I nodded. “He’s... he’s not a bad guy. It’s just that sometimes he gets angry because of the things I do. That’s why I haven’t seen you in the past five years. But you look good. You look really good.”

    I’ve heard this story before. He’s not a bad guy. It’s all my fault. My mom used to say the same things when my dad would get back from Tracy’s Tavern with whiskey pouring out of his breath. Maybe this is why I was here. Maybe this is why I came today. I was sent to save her.

    I learned soon that was not the reason.

    “Monica!” A voice screamed out from the door which had just been flung open. “You licentious slut! Who the hell is this now? What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A man bolted over to our table. I’m guessing this is Mike. And I am Rick. And Monica did not tell Mike about her meeting Rick. Which means that I am screwed.

    “Mike,” I stated in my I’m-Trying-To-Calm-You-Down-Don’t-Hurt-Me voice. “I think you have the wrong idea. Nothing is going on here.”

    “It’s ok, Rick.” Monica stood up and got in Mike’s face. “Mike, I don’t love you anymore. Rick and I are leaving tonight.” This is the point in the story where things get ridiculously out of control and I am left wondering what in the Lord’s name is going on.

    “Shut up!” Mike said as he flung Monica into the table. “So you’re stealing my woman? Well I can fix that.” Then he pulled out a gun and shot me.

    This is the point of the story where my life flashes before my eyes as I lay dying.

    Looking at 22 years of life pass in front of my eyes from birth to senior year of college I realized one thing. My life sucked. I knew that I was not looking forward to joining the great big Real World out there. I had no hopes or goals. This was pretty much the coolest thing that had ever happened to me. I’m not saying that I’m excited about dying. However if I had to pick a way to go, I could do much worse than an illicit love affair. A lover’s spat. A crime of passion. I could have gone peacefully in my sleep with no one to really remember me by. At least now I’ll have my name in the paper.

    My senses are starting to fade out, all I have are sounds. I hear Monica scream. I hear Mike laugh. I hear the Chinese waiter mumble his half-English version of what’s going on to a dispatcher at 911. I hear police sirens coming up. I hear someone being read their Miranda rights. I hear a man say we’re losing him.

    Like I said, I’m really not mad. Yeah, I wish I could have done more with my life but I realize now that I can’t live in regrets.

    This is the point in the story where I accept my fate peacefully and move on.

(All stories are copyrighted to the Collaborative Learning Center and are not available for redistribution without explicit conset. For more information please e-mail PapeD@ripon.edu. The 100 Words Projcet is property of the Collaborative Learning Center, Ripon College, Ripon WI. All rights reserved.)