Love And Redemption

~Late~

Monday

11:00 a.m.

Los Angeles

*beep, beep, beep* 

"Ugh." I moaned. 

I rolled over to see that it was almost a quarter past three. I s
jumped out of my bed and threw on a blue-fitted long-sleeve shirt and blue jeans. Running to my bathroom sink, I threw water on my face before wiping it with my towel, grabbed a comb to tame the bed of blonde wavy hair tangled on my head, and rushed out the front door into my 2014 white Nissan Altima. 

I knew I was going to be late as I glanced at my wristwatch and peered back up at the traffic jam I found myself in. I knew if messed up again, my last-ditch effort for trying to become an editor here would be tarnished. Just when I had finally convinced my boss to give me a chance to be taken seriously and have great potential to ease the publishing house's workload. 

 "Shoot!" I yelled, slamming my hands on the wheel, after turning the next corner. The sound of a multitude of car horns blocked my ability to even hear the radio. It was rush hour.

After forty-five minutes in LA's traffic and ten minutes spent looking for a parking space, I made it to work. Unfortunately, I was still late. I ran into the Red's Publishing building as fast as I could, zipping up my janitorial uniform.  

I worked at Red's Publishing House (a corporation that edits and publishes books). I didn't have a fancy and ridiculously wooden glossy desk like my boss, and I sure didn't have someone waiting on me hand and foot either. I was a janitor who hated his job more than his life...and for the third time this month, I was late. I knew he was going to threaten to take away the consideration for full-time employment as a proofreader.

"Mr. Jackson, it seems like you're not keen to be on time, the third time this month... I'm starting to wonder why I haven't gotten rid of you yet. You have so much potential... I know you can do better." Mr. William, Editor-in-Chief of the Red's Publishing House, lectured with his arms crossed over his large torso. He stood facing his ceiling-length windows that below displayed a beautiful flower park. He was 6' foot tall, with a head of graying hair and a full beard. He had oval-shaped, pale, but sharp blue eyes that looked threatening when he squinted at you. 

 Mr. William was able to write and publish the best stories time could tell, they always managed to hit #1 on New York Bestseller. One time, his book Love & Betrayal stayed #1 for four months straight. I even bought the book, out of curiosity to see what all the talk was about, and I have to admit, he did state some valid points about love and betrayal of the ones closest to you. 

Something I had come to know personally. In the last chapter of his book, he included a scripture from the Bible. 'Love those that hate you', and 'Bless those that curse you'.

I had no idea that the person I poured my heart out to for 5 years was in love with my stepbrother, whom I'd known for only 12 years of my life.

 I really had been in love because I never entertained a thought about the possibility of her hooking up with my brother. At first, I thought I was blindsided by the betrayal, but now, at 27 years old, I know I just ignored the obvious red flags. 

After Julia called off our engagement, I felt my heart drop to my stomach as I sank to my knees in my bedroom. How could I have been so naive?  To trust, they were only friends who went out almost every night and partied together, and I'm sure there were times they hung out that I didn't even know about it. You never suspect family would be the one to cause you the most emotional pain.

We've never spoken to each other else since...I mean, what is there to say? My step-brother, who for a long time I saw as just my brother, Justin,  betrayed me. 

 Seemingly, everyone was trying to tell me to 'let it go' and forgive them, so I stopped coming around. It'd been over 3 years since I talked to them. I admit that at times, I miss their boisterous laughter and hugs, but I am not trying to hear one of my mother's homemade 'give it to Jesus' rants. 

 I was only 23 at the time and had dreams of becoming a professional writer, aiming for a Master's degree in literature at Yale. However, I allowed the heartbreak of partying to lead me to flunking out of the prestigious university.

"Mr. Jackson...do you understand how hard it is to get a foot in the door with your lack of experience, after our last conversation I was thinking of offering you a trial month here to show me if you worked just as well with books as you did on your own, but if you're too lazy to come to work on time, I can just hire someone who actually finished Yale and made bigger accomplishments." He threatened his posture as straight as the paralleled window in his industrial office before turning to face me. 

"Mr. William, I apologize....tremendously for being late, I just have been...dealing with a few things, but I promise I won't do it again, please... don't fire me." I beseech him.

 He smiled half-heartedly.

 "I honestly don't want to fire you, Jackson, I hope you now realize you're not in Uni anymore... this is my last time warning you, stop taking my favoritism of you for granted, now get out of my office," he said, sitting into his swivel chair, placing on his glasses, and flipping through paperwork on his desk. 

 I thanked him earnestly again for the opportunity and promised it wouldn't happen again.

 Why did I do that? 

I honestly wanted to kick myself for downing more than two glasses of vodka last night. I hated the thought of taking advantage of someone's favor and who could otherwise overlook my existence here. 

I sighed and turned around and froze, my cheeks turning warm involuntarily.

I apologized for almost stumbling into her. She smiled at me briefly before walking past me and turning the corner. 

In my eyes, she was the sunset embodied in a woman, wrapped in love and ease. She was the most loving and compassionate woman I ever encountered, although we only spoke twice. We never had a chance for much conversation as she was so busy as Red's Publishing Associate Editor, Mr. William's right hand. I always watched her from a safe distance, afraid she'd smell the alcohol on my clothes. There were times I'd clean the same spot for twenty minutes unknowingly as she conversed with her colleagues in the hall.  For some reason, I wanted to know her personally, but never had the chance or more honestly... the confidence to ask her. 

As a janitor, I knew I was nowhere near good enough for her, so for three years we remained strangers, passing by each other occasionally and routinely saying 'Good morning' and 'Have a good day'.  

She was definitely a sight for sore eyes to linger upon. 

Her golden brown skin was shimmering as much as her pearly, white smile. Whenever I looked at her or heard her vibrating laugh in the echoing halls, I felt like she was the evidence of there being God. The sun was her smile, the movement of her body as endearing as the moon, her laugh... like a chorus of songbirds. 

Someone as loving, kind, and gentle; women like her were very rare. I knew I wasn't what she needed or wanted, but at least like a person staring through a florist storefront, I could still enjoy the view.