Love And Redemption

~Late~

Monday

Los Angeles, California

*beep, beep, beep* 

"Ugh." I moaned. 

I rolled over to see that it was almost a quarter past three. I jumped out of bed and wore 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 partly 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 would 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 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 indeed the last of 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. 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 one of the janitors 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 an adjacent flower park. He was 6' foot tall, with a head of peppery 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 in sociological non-fiction, 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 conclusion of the last chapter of his book, he even quoted a scripture from the Bible to not allow bitterness in, thus stopping one's progress in life. 

'Love those that hate you, Bless those that curse you...'

I had no idea that the person I poured my heart out to for 3 years was in love with my stepbrother, whom I'd known for 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 dorm room. 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. I never suspected family would be the one to cause me the most pain. 

We've never spoken to each other since...I mean, what was there to say? My stepbrother, Justin,  had betrayed me. And unlike the advice in Mr. William's book, I still couldn't let go of the hatred and pain I felt. 

 Seemingly, everyone in my family 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 'just 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 and obscene partying to lead me to flunking out.

"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 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. 

Although Mr. William threatened me a lot, I knew he had a big heart. He was willing to discuss things with me, asked about my background, saw something in my writing style and proofreading ability, and decided to give me a chance. A rare opportunity.

"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 for granted, you're the one in control of your destiny, now get out of my office," he said, sitting down 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 easily overlook my existence here. 

After closing his office door, I turned around, instantly meeting a pair of warm brown eyes.

I apologized for almost stumbling into her. She smiled at me briefly before walking past me and entering Mr. William's office. 

She was the sunset embodied, warm, and beautiful. She was easily the most loving and compassionate person I had seen, although we only spoke twice in my three years of being here.

 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 absentmindedly as she conversed with colleagues in the hall. 

 For some crazy reason, I wanted to know her more, but never had the confidence to speak to her than for a surface-level conversation.   

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 a sight for sore eyes to linger upon. 

Her golden brown skin always shimmers as much as her pearly, white teeth. 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. Her smile was as bright as the sun, the movement of her body as endearing as the moon, her laugh... like a crescendo of Christmas bells. 

I knew I wasn't what she needed or wanted, but at least like a person staring through a florist storefront, I could enjoy the view.