Disenchantment 26

Part III

February

A Fall from Grace

 

 

 

It was a gorgeous day. Mark felt alive, truly alive and glad to be. It was the first time in a long time that he didn’t even mind being at work, at his least favorite part of his route for the entire day. He barely noticed all the extra people littering the streets, and they didn’t matter so much as he was entering a gated complex where the homeless could not go. Despite the overbearing heat, Mark saw the beauty in the clouds that decorated the sky, just a few white ones, of course, nothing hinting at an end to the brutal heat. Mark was barely noticing the temperature, until he saw Martha, clutching her thick bathrobe against her chest, her silk pajamas evident beneath, seemingly immune to the furnace-like weather that the world was currently cursed with.

 

Martha Higgins sometimes seemed to be the bane of Mark’s existence. She could never wait for her mail and had repeatedly called the post office to demand that they start at 5:00 am, and that her mail was to be delivered first. Her reason was that she really liked to be able to get up and drink coffee and go through her mail, and she liked to get up early, blaming the post office on the days that she overslept because she had nothing to do. Cleaning the home was for later morning, and then going online to “critique” businesses was for afternoon, one of her biggest pet peeves being restaurants that had their customers order at the counter and later the staff would bring the food to the table as it was grossly untraditional and an obvious sign of lazy management. She would explain to anyone who would listen that one should absolutely not turn on the television or engage in any type of entertainment until after 5:00 pm. She had some rules too, about proper bedtimes for every living human and appropriate activities one could in engage on his or her days off. She had other issues as well.

 

“Good morning Mrs. Higgins,” stated Mark, attempting his best to hide his irritation that she was meeting him at the beginning of the complex yet again, meaning that she would walk with him for a time. He had brought the regular mail first and a few Amazon packages with him.

 

“Good morning, Mr. Nicastro,” she said pleasantly enough. She liked him. He often lied to her so that she would cease judging him constantly.

 

Mark had one condominium complex that was set up to walk. He had to deliver the mail to the individual units, as opposed to a few large community boxes where the residents would come collect their mail. It just so happened that Martha Higgins lived in that particular complex.

 

“Do you have my package?” she asked.

 

Shit. Mark had briefly glanced to see if she had had one earlier that morning, but had other things on his mind. He had no packages with him. He knew that meant that she would follow him throughout the complex. “I’m so sorry, I do have your regular mail,” he said as he looked through the bag and came up with an electric bill and some ads.

 

“I ordered a package. Amazon said it would arrive today.”

 

“Right, I’ll go back to the truck and get it.” It interfered with his day quite a bit, but he knew that she would follow him throughout the complex if he didn’t do it. In the early days of his career, before Amazon, he could sometimes do one walkthrough of the complex, but often had to do two. With the coming of Amazon packages he could often walk the complex twelve times before finishing. It was not set up to be able to drive, strict parking rules with a severe lack of guest parking and very few vehicular paths wound through it. It was a vast place with mostly only concrete sidewalks to get around in it.

 

As they walked back to his truck, Martha imposed, “I hope you got up at a decent time this morning.”

 

“Yes ma’am, 5:00 am.” It actually wasn’t a lie, but the answer would have been the same if he had gotten up at another time.

 

“That’s good, you are a stand up young man. I don’t understand people who sleep late and go to bed late. It’s so awful and unhealthy.”

 

“Yes, I don’t understand them either. Dreadful people.”

 

“You know what my package is?”

 

“I have no idea, Mrs. Higgins. It would be inappropriate for me to wonder about it.”

 

“Yes, but I’ll tell you. It’s a new welcome mat. I found the perfect shade of beige and I just had to buy it. It will match the paint on the outside beautifully.”

 

“That’s outstanding, ma’am. I couldn’t even imagine your place looking better than it already does.”

 

As they got back to the postal vehicle, Martha asked: “So, did the postmaster give the go ahead to start here? You know I am reasonable, they don’t even have to do my home first, just start at this complex, and much earlier in the day, of course.”

 

Mark wondered if she even considered that he would have to get up much earlier to actually be delivering mail at 5:00 am and how healthy she might consider that prospect. He also found himself wondering, not for the first time, if she was even aware that other people in the world also had wants and needs that might outweigh her preferences. “Yes, but he is not budging right now. I’ll keep on it, but make sure that you keep up with the letters and the phone calls.”

 

“Oh, I will. We need to get this done, Mr. Nicastro.”

 

“I couldn’t agree more.” After looking briefly through the back of his truck, he found it. “Here you go.”

 

“This corner is dented.”

 

“Yes, but that probably won’t damage a mat.”

 

“It’s not professional.”

 

“Yes, I agree. That shouldn’t happen.”

 

“I’ll be sending Amazon a letter and an e-mail. This just upsets me.”

 

“Yes,” agreed Mark, “This situation is upsetting and stressful.” The situation definitely was stressful, but not for the reasons Martha thought. The box had probably been slightly damaged in transit, likely from the post office and not Amazon, but Mark didn’t volunteer that particular information.

 

She stood there for a time, apparently waiting for him to lock up his truck and resume his route so that she could walk with him. Mark sighed and decided to waste more time making a beeline toward her condo instead of doing the route correctly in a more time-efficient manner.

 

As they walked, she brought up the unusual heat and current homelessness issue. She blamed them both on bad sleeping habits. If everyone went to bed at nine and got up at five, there would be less electricity used, which led to global warming, which led to the high temperatures. If people slept well they wouldn’t be crazy and drug-addicted and homeless. Mark would occasionally nod his approval, inserting words when he thought she needed verbal assent. They finally made it back to her place and he let her get inside after a few more words about how people would never be overweight or mentally ill if they had good sleeping habits.

 

As much as Martha Higgins bothered him some days, her erratic behavior barely affected him this time. He had had a date of sorts with Nannette the night prior. Things could not have gone better at all. Well...the ending could have gone better, but Mark planned to remedy that soon.

 

He had started speaking on the phone with Nanette almost every night since they had met and he had not initiated any of it. She seemed to draw comfort from him and had been the person to call every time. She had started hinting at physically spending time together to the point where it was no longer hinting and seemed to be something she thought was mutually agreed upon and going to happen.

 

When she had called him the night before she said they should go see a movie. She decided she would come up to his place instead of him going to hers, as she had had a light day and she knew that Mark worked pretty hard. Mark didn’t decline and actually felt a little giddy at the idea.

 

When she arrived, much later than anticipated due to the extra people wandering around the streets, congesting traffic and part of the exodus from coastal areas, they decided that they would watch a movie in his apartment. Mark thought the idea swell, due to the intimacy and privacy that his apartment would bring, and the fact that he hated most contemporary films.

 

Eddie loved her and behaved as though she was a long lost friend and she returned the sentiment. Mark told himself that it was meant to be—an Eddie approved woman—ignoring the fact that Eddie loved everybody and behaved the same way with Hector on occasion.

 

Mark was of the solid opinion that things could not have gone any better. He would have never guessed that she would have an affinity for rock, assuming she liked modern pop garbage. He was pleasantly surprised to discover she had a passing familiarity with bands like Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, and AC/DC, but everyone likes AC/DC. She didn’t know much about music from Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Motorhead, and the like, but did know a little Metallica. What blew him away was that she was actually a huge fan of Neil Young, The Beatles, The Doors, and Pink Floyd.

 

Mark felt himself falling for her, but decided that he wouldn’t initiate anything. When the time came to watch a film, she picked Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull. After determining her unfamiliarity with the franchise, he recommended they start with Raiders of the Lost Ark. She had absolutely loved it, so much so, that they opted to watch Temple of Doom, after the first film.

 

It had occurred to Mark that she, being Chinese, might be a bit offended by the Short Round character in the second film. He was a bit over the top, stereotypically Chinese. She was a college student and he was very aware of the current political climate on college campuses, cancelling the slightest perceived offenses in present, future, and past medias.

 

“You call him Dr. Jones, doll,” said Short Round to Willie Scott on screen.

 

Nanette had laughed so hard and turned to him, “Will you be my Dr. Jones?”

 

When she was preparing to leave, Mark did not want to initiate anything. The age difference hung heavily in his mind. It was progressively seeming less important and he was completely willing to ignore it, but he didn’t want to start anything. He didn’t want to push anything and was only willing to further the relationship if she was.

 

It seemed to bother her much less. She initiated the hug after he walked her to her car. She gave him a small kiss on the cheek of her own accord. “Will you be my Dr. Jones?” she asked again.

 

“Sure.” He felt mildly uncomfortable not wanting to instigate, but wanting more physical connection. If she’s all right, I’m definitely all right.

 

“Goodbye Dr. Jones, hahaha, goodbye,” she said, from the film.

 

“Nice try Lao Che.”

 

With that, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, having to stand on her tip toes and press upward to connect. They lingered like that momentarily as he embraced her. He didn’t want to push the kiss further, and she seemed to be waiting for him to do so. After a few seconds the kiss became awkward. Finally, he just released himself from it. It felt good, natural to progress, but he had refused.

 

When he was younger, Mark did hook up with many girls, back in high school he was relatively popular as the hesher guitar player. He had even started playing before Oren. Of course, Oren surpassed him quickly, with guitars and girls. He had a talent and charisma that just came naturally to him. Mark eventually got married and fell out of practice with the opposite sex, while Oren also married, but never lost his charm, his talent, or his appeal to the ladies.

 

Nannette seemed slightly disappointed, but smiled and got into her car. Idiot! Idiot, idiot, idiot, he told himself as he walked back to his apartment. He had to tell Hector to go fuck himself when he started making kissing sounds in the courtyard of the complex.

 

Mark was very much looking forward to getting off work that evening to talk to Nannette once again. “Next time I will kiss her more passionately,” he said aloud to no one on the bright hot day of delivering mail.

 

Mark didn’t know at the time that he would never get the opportunity. He didn’t know that he would be out of a job and drinking in a few days. He didn’t know that Nannette would be dead. He didn’t know that Martha Higgins herself would be the catalyst that rapidly pushed him forward toward his own end.