Misunderstood

Prologue

                        ~PROLOGUE~

                        DATE: October 28th, 1999

                        Time: 2:15PM

                        ~Crystal's point of view~

I lightly rapped my fingers against the end of the keyboard, absently hoping for words to start appearing on the screen for me. I knew this project had to be done soon. Heck, this very brochure could save or destroy the company. The power, for once, was all in my hands.

And, to be quite honest, I was frightened. So much power left to me? What if I made Mr. M. upset? He could fire me quicker than I could snap my fingers.

Attempting to calm myself down, I reached for my TRIDENT pack and pulled out a strip of spearmint gum. I tossed one of the little pieces in and violently chewed on it, hoping that my anxiety would go away with each bite.

Of course, it didn't. I never really worked like that, anyways. I could never truly be in a serene state of mind unless the task at hand was finished. I was barely twenty words into the brochure, and I was going to be picked up in two hours.

I groaned, laying my head on the cold metal desk. What could I do? It wasn't like I was some genius at this kind of stuff. I never excelled in writing. I was always more of a history buff. This veery job made me wonder why I never became an elementary school teacher.

And then I remembered: Ivan. I shuddered when I thought of his name. 

Before my thoughts could continue, I felt something being tossed at me. "Crystal."

I lifted my head off of the desk to see Mr. M. towering over me, his teddy bear eyebrows now furrowed into a frown. However, even as mad as he was trying to seem, there was a tinge of something else in his expression. Sadness. Grief.

I quickly rose from my desk. "Oh, Mister, I'm sorry. I was just-"

He held his hands up, not wanting to hear my petty excuse. "No need to explain, Mrs. Neumann," he said gruffly. His eyes held the most sorry look ever viewed on a person. "However," he continued, "I've got some bad news."

It was my turn for my brows to furrow. "What do you mean, sir?"

"I mean-" he pat me on the back- "we're packing up."

"What?" I was perplexed.

"We're just not getting the income we need to run this company. Mack and Sons Corporation is closing. Here's your last paycheck." He handed me an envolope.

I was getting fired? "But sir, you must-"

"There's nothing I can do. We're losing too much stock, our income rates have only declined in the past three years... there is no turning back... It was nice knowing you. Now pack up your office." With that short message, he turned and strolled away, only to repeat what he said to the next person.

So it was official. Mackenzie and Sons Corporation was closing down. But that left me with no job. I relied on Mackenzie for the past four years to bring in decent pay, to go on vacations, to supply my Mother. Now, what was I going to do?

Then a bigger worry came to mind. Oh no... I had better tell Frank that we better stop trying. The last thing we need is... oh, dear... 

Snapping out of my trance, I began to organize and pack all of the items in the office that I wanted to bring home. I took my snow globe, some letters from my sister, my watch, and some documents. While I was at it, I chose to take the magnet off of the monitor.

Yes, I knew that was stealing, but Iwas most definitely going to get my money's worth from here. I was sure that Mr. M. wouldn't mind having one minor accessory missing from his mountainous collection.

I walked out of the building with a new feeling growing inside of me: fear. What if I never get another job? Frank's bartender job will barely be enough to cover our basic needs and bills. And what if... What if it's too late? What if Frank and I...?

But I couldn't think that way. I had to look on the positive side. After all, there were several opening spots at the new Nike store in Kingston. I'm sure that I could get something, albeit not very substantial. But... I had to think positively. After all, everyone knew the saying.

It was about an hour and a half later that I saw Frank's red Chevy pull up to the front of the building. I waved him down semi-excitedly, the feeling of fear still inside of me. I kissed him on the cheek upon entering, throwing my suitcase behind me.

Buckling up, I began to speak. "I've got some bad news, baby," I said, not quite prepared to tell him.

Paying partial attention to me, Frank asked, "Yes?" and swerved across the road.

That was one thing about Frank that always got on my nerves. He was an awful driver. I'm actually very surprised that he hasn't gotten a ticket this year for running into someone's mailbox, or crashing into the back of someone's vehicle, or forgetting to buy a new license plate. But he was still bad. He had no clue how to parallel park, he couldn't go above 60 miles an hour, and he most definitely couldn't reverse park.

I suddenly felt glad not to have been his driver's education teacher. 

However, I answered him. "Mackenzie and Sons is closing. I lost my job. Frank... we need to stop trying. The last thing we need is someone new to care for."

"Mmkay," he replied, keeping most of his focus on the road. He put on hand on my left arm, as if he were trying to comfort me. I held onto it as softly as I could, smiling. I knew that everything would probably be okay.

But... there was that strange feeling, in the pit of my stomach... that something would go wrong. And I had the feeling that the something was very soon.