How Things Are Going

In her mind, she could envision herself anywhere, at any point in time, engaging in any activity. Often, she indulged in these elaborate reveries filled with vivid, geometric landscapes and vibrant sounds, accompanied by deserted streets illuminated by flickering neon lights.

The thought of searching for him crossed her mind, yet she dismissed it as absurd. It had been ages since she had ventured out.

She dialed his number twice, as the company directory listed two contacts for him.

When she called the first number, a woman with a deep, gravelly voice answered. The tone suggested years of smoking, perhaps. She gathered that this was his mother, though they had never met. Without saying a word, she ended the call. The second number, likely his desk extension, went unanswered after ten rings, eventually routing her to a voicemail. The sultry voice that greeted her felt out of place for a corporate setting, urging her to leave a message.

She did so, with just two words: “Miss. You.”

As she brushed her hair while gazing into the dim glow of her Conair mirror, she couldn’t help but feel that the brown light bore no resemblance to evening, no matter the dial’s position. She turned the knob, adjusting the lamps to cycle through settings—Evening, Home, Office, and Day. None made a significant difference, but she settled for Day, the brightest of them all. Flipping the mirror back and forth, she wondered why she bothered, perhaps it was just a habit.

A troubling thought crept in: he’ll be gone in six hours. Gone forever. The chance to express what she needed to say would vanish with him.

"Good enough,” she mused, giving her hair a final touch. Grabbing her keys and purse, she locked the door of her mobile home as she made her way to her sky-blue Ford Pinto, affectionately named Ramses after the University of North Carolina mascot.

The engine roared to life on the second turn of the key. She kicked up gravel as she left the driveway, heading west toward town.

Her plan was to stop by Northgate Mall for some shopping and perhaps visit Donna’s apartment to see if she could score anything. Work was not on her agenda; she would not return to that. Instead, she would allow the remaining hours to pass, accepting that whatever she felt for this quirky, brilliant man who was not her type was now over.

Yet, in the back of her mind, a cartoonish fuse seemed to spark, sizzling toward a massive pile of explosives labeled T-N-T.

How Things Started

Dave could hear Fat Larry wheezing through another crude joke at the expense of Poland. Larry got away with it because he himself was Polish. Besides, he often pointed out that if the new Duke basketball coach could do it, why couldn’t he?

"Am I right or what, Cochise?”

He was right. The new Duke coach, with an unpronounceable name, was known for his self-deprecating humor regarding his Polish heritage. No one criticized him, perhaps because they all knew he wouldn’t be around long, much like Larry.

None of them would be around much longer. The past week felt interminable, like a persistent toothache.

“Three! Two to lift the donkey and one to jam a finger in its ass!” Larry concluded his joke, and a wave of laughter erupted, rising into a cloud of sound that slowly faded.

Dave removed his glasses and rubbed his temples. The atmosphere buzzed with frenetic energy. The Sperry-Rand company, at least in Durham, NC, faced its demise, but that didn’t stop the employees from throwing one last raucous party, a defiant shout against the injustice they faced.

It was evident that those in power didn’t care.

When the government contracts were abruptly terminated, the news spread like wildfire. They hardly had time to process it before the impending closure loomed over them. The hosiery mills had relocated to China, the tobacco industry was crushed under government regulations, and now Sperry was spiraling downward. It was easy to envision the entire city following suit. Downtown resembled a fading relic, barely clinging to life.

In six hours, the grand glass and aluminum doors would lock for the final time. Dave had been contemplating leaving since the news broke. He realized he should have departed his hometown long ago. Just as Bilbo had felt his life draining away in the Shire, Dave felt pieces of himself slipping away, lost to the vast cosmos.

He was ready to leave. He should have done so years earlier.

"Yes,” he thought, despite his efforts to resist, “but what about her?” A tightness gripped his throat, sending his stomach into knots.

"What about her?"

Dave pinched his nose, scanning the room.

Kowalczyk was launching into another loud joke. People were chatting, laughing, some were embracing, and it all felt like a chaotic farewell filled with insincere sentiments.

"What about her?"

He glanced up at the clock in the corner.

Not even six hours remained; more like five-and-a-quarter.

How Things Ended Up

He had realized he was in love (he later reflected) on the day his mother ran out of the house, distressed and apologizing, tears streaming down her face.

This was about a year ago.

“I’ve got a theory, Dave! I’ve got a theory!” Her words were nearly garbled by tears and snot, rendering her English incomprehensible. Not that it mattered; it was a sentiment he had heard countless times.

His mother had pleaded, nearly begging, that if he stayed with her, he would never have to see his father again. This time, it would end. They had changed locks, issued warrants, and his father had even spent some time in Camp Butner. Dave doubted it would stick; it never had before, but her desperate pleas had worn him down, and he had agreed. They regularly separated, but the challenge lay in staying apart, something his mother struggled with.

When he returned home, he found his father sitting on the porch, a cigarette in one hand, empty bottles scattered around.

“Hey there, kiddo,” his father greeted him, but Dave said nothing.

He walked past the old man and into the house. His mother was washing her face over the sink, her gaze barely meeting his as he passed. He headed to his room, packed a gym bag, and returned to the kitchen, walking past both his emotionally shattered mother and the drunken man before getting into his car.

“Dave, wait! Please wait! Dave!” His mother pleaded, but he didn’t look back.

He drove around aimlessly—the mall, the Silver Mine arcade, Glenn’s apartment—only to find no one home. Eventually, he parked on the side of Cheek Road, allowing himself to cry, culminating in a fit of anger that left his knuckles bloodied after punching the radio. Eventually, he cleaned up and went to work.

Dr. Brooks stopped by his desk around 11:30, scrutinizing Dave with concern. Perhaps he sensed the emptiness or it was just fate, but he said:

“Dave, my boy, if you’re not too busy, I’d love for you to come downstairs and meet someone.” He didn’t wait for a response, heading down the stairs with Dave trailing behind him.

“She’s a workaholic, doesn’t socialize much. So far, she’s only interacted with Seymour Cray and me, and it’s about time she met someone.” Dr. Brooks raised an eyebrow at Dave. “And you look a bit down, son. Maybe you two could connect.”

Dave managed a weak smile, “Sure, Doc. Maybe so.”

And then she appeared. Dr. Brooks introduced them, but Dave was too taken aback to respond beyond a nod.

Eventually, he noticed Dr. Brooks nudging him.

“For Pete’s sake,” he said, “Say hello to the lady.”

Dave waved awkwardly, managing a stilted, “Hello there,” and a slightly whistled, “Nice to meet you.”

“Same here,” she replied.

Dr. Brooks chuckled. From that day on, Dave made it a point to visit the reclusive woman every day with his Damnation Alley lunchbox.

The Last Bit

She was seated in the theater, nails digging into the vinyl armrests as she watched a re-release of The Cat from Outer Space. This film was a last-ditch effort to suppress her feelings, to avoid driving her dilapidated Pinto into town and confessing her infatuation with the nerdy man.

Every moment they shared together replayed in rapid succession in her mind.

Once, while in the office, she had laughed so hard at one of Kowalczyk’s jokes that she inadvertently let out a loud fart. His eyes met hers just before the laughter erupted.

“Sorry,” he had winked.

“Dave, you nasty bastard!” Kowalczyk had shouted.

There were countless such moments in the past year, all of which she had denied, shoving her feelings deep down. Just look at him! His mannerisms! His quirks!

It was only now, amidst the collapse of their company, that she accepted the truth. She dashed out of the theater just as Jake learned he was gaining U.S. citizenship, grabbing a page from the phone book that listed his unusual last name. There were only two entries.

She sped towards his apartment, but he wasn’t home.

The old lady with the swollen lip seemed sympathetic but had no clue where Dave was. “Please tell him I stopped by,” she requested, but the woman could not promise when they might cross paths again.

Not long after, she pulled over on Cheek Road, allowing herself another emotional release, punching the radio until her knuckles were bruised. Eventually, she headed back home.

The Very Last Bit

Dave’s heart raced as he returned to Sperry. Sweat blurred his vision as he rattled the front door, which was locked. His friend, Lance the security guard, let him in after Dave claimed he’d forgotten his office supplies.

“Five minutes, tops, buddy. Whaddaya say?” he said, trying to conceal his trembling hands with finger guns.

She was still there, in the sub-basement. Overcome with emotion, Dave whispered, “I love you.” Then, with a quiver in his voice, he asked, “Do you trust me?”

“I do,” she responded.

He opened the panel marked Main Logic, working quickly despite his shaking hands.

Dave emerged four minutes and thirteen seconds later, exceeding his promise to Lance, whom he nodded to on his way out. He placed a banker’s box in the passenger seat, buckled it in, and exuberantly sang along to Xanadu as it played on the Chevette’s broken radio.

The Final Reflection

In her mind, she could envision herself anywhere, at any moment, engaged in any activity. Often, she lost herself in vivid dreams filled with vibrant shapes and sounds, alongside lonely streets illuminated by neon lights. But now, her dreams had transformed, filled with swirling colors and curves.

Ultimately, she realized she longed to be with Dave.

In time, she understood that she, too, had fallen in love.