Men on Pause

Chapter 2: Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

Larry ran upstairs as if he was a sprite twenty something, instead of the 42-year-old he stared at in the mirror every morning while asking "what happened to all your teenage hopes and dreams?". Hey, it could be worse, at least he had about a decade to go before he got to be like his annoying boomer neighbour. Reaching the top of the stairs he remembered with dismay that his wife kept her binoculars in the coffee table downstairs. She claimed to bird watch, but Larry was pretty sure she just spied on the neighbours. She always knew what brands the other wives wore, who did yoga and Pilates, and even who flirted with the repair men. Grabbing them he took a more relaxed pace up the stairs, already feeling winded. He had to park his disdain for his wife when he realized the irony as he focused the glasses on Irving's house.

Sure enough, there he sat at his writing table. The house seemed to be designed with the master bedroom upstairs looking out the back, and an open loft which looked out the front of the house. There he must sit most days in the summer, trying to unlock the masterpiece that would be his legacy. Pathetic. Irving looked up, and for a second it seemed that he looked right at Larry Miller who reacted by ducking downward in his walk-in closet across the street from the teacher.

Irving climbed the stairs to the second floor. As he sat down, he remembered 15 years ago when he and his wife Carole first took possession of the house. They were the third to start building on the street but the second to move in. She had surprised him with the antique writing desk and green banker's lamp. The movers had set it all up and Irving was so touched by her gift that he openly wept. She didn't seem to like it when he cried, but he just couldn't contain himself. They made love that night across the hall in their bedroom with the lights on, and the new home seemed to rekindle their marriage. The spark didn't last.

Staring at his word processor, the blinking cursor on the blank page openly mocked him. Was he going to write that novel about two Sicilian brothers fighting over the married tourist twenty years their senior? Or maybe that novel about the alien race of lycanthropes who come to Philadelphia to prey on the poor? Or maybe a sensationalized version of his own memoirs? Sitting back, he looked out the window...was that Larry across the street looking at him? Irving was about to wave when Larry disappeared. Strange.

Looking over at his bookcase he stared at Miller's copy of the Wall Street Journal with a guilty conscience. But he couldn't give it back now! Besides what would be the point? Sighing, he rose from his desk, grabbed the WSJ tucking it under his arm. Downstairs he hesitated at the front door, but instead went to the garage and threw it in the recycling.

"Sorry Larry, you poor schmuck" he whispered to himself as he headed back upstairs to try and unlock the words that would fill those blank pages with meaning.

"Son of a bitch!" exclaimed Larry, peeking up from his hiding place just under the windowsill. He saw the writer clearly tuck a copy of WSJ under his arm and head downstairs. Larry likewise went downstairs in his own house but couldn't track Irving's movements. From across the street, he saw the garage light go on, and a few seconds later off again. The trash bins! He keeps the trash bins in the garage! Running upstairs Larry was able to see Irving sit back down at his table, without a newspaper.

After lying down for a minute to catch his breath Larry went back downstairs. Larry opened his briefcase and paused. He hadn't pulled out his case since he was fired. After a couple breaths to get past the sick feeling in his stomach, Larry moved aside some files and papers, and pulled out a small black pouch.

Smiling he patted his lockpick set and said to himself, "hello darkness, my old friend." It may seem odd to many to see a CPA with a set of lockpicks, but in his job of downsizing, oops sorry, rightsizing, it gave him a leg up to be able to get into locked offices, desks, and filing cabinets.