The Most Important Thing I'll Ever Do (1 of 3)
*Author's note: This story will dive into some fairly sensitive topics including untreated mental health, murder and suicide.
"Sir, I need you to double left-click on the icon that looks like a little computer" I instructed.
"Don’t rush me," the customer snapped. "I don’t see an icon that looks like a computer. There’s one that looks like paper. It says 'ReadMe.' Another one says 'Uninstall.' It looks like a circle with a red X," he droned on. I hit the mute button so he wouldn’t hear me and let out a weary sigh. I took a quick glance at the call queue; the number of waiting calls was up to 127, with only 10 of us on the floor. Fantastic.
one that looks like a small TV with a blue screen that says 'Setup,'" the customer finally said. I quickly unmuted.
"That’s the one, sir. Go ahead and click on that. When it prompts you, please select the option that says 'Repair,'" I advised. I went through the motions, wrapping up the rest of the call quickly now that the customer wasn’t reading the entire list of files to me. I saw my chat light up with a message from my boss. From the preview, I could tell she was telling me to go to lunch after I finished documenting the call. I finished my notes, set myself to lunch, and headed outside for a quick smoke.
My best friend and co-worker, Nick, was outside having a smoke when I arrived. Nick was dating my girlfriend’s sister and already had three kids with her.
"What are you doing here? Aren't you off today and tomorrow? Can I bum a light?" I asked him.
"Yeah, sure," he said, passing me a lighter. "The supervisor called and asked if I wanted some overtime. Sarah wasn’t happy since she’s stuck with the kids by herself for a while, but hell knows we need the money. We’re already two months behind on rent. How’s the queue?"
"Total cluster. The updater removed the EXE without replacing it. We’ve been running setups all day. Estimated customers affected before they caught it is somewhere in the thousands."
"Sounds like there will be overtime available for the rest of the week, too. I think I’m going swallow that up if they ask."
"Not me, thanks, but no thanks. Good luck though." I rolled my eyes. "I’ll be back up once I grab some food."
**********************
"That’s right, ma’am. Double left-click," I said, holding my face in my hands while keeping a cheerful tone. I had been voluntold to stay until close due to the never-ending volume of calls in the queue. The number had finally started trickling down after we closed the support line for the day.
"I apologize for the wait, sir. I can absolutely assist you and we can resolve this quickly," I heard Nick over the wall. "I understand why you are upset. No, sir, as we are past closing time, there are no supervisors available to talk to." He sounded like he was having a rough time. The average wait time was around an hour, not because the calls themselves were long, but because of the volume.
I wrapped up my call and thankfully didn’t hear the beep indicating another call was coming through. I waited about five minutes, and my supervisor gave me a thumbs-up, indicating I could log out of the phones. It was just after 11:00 PM, over an hour past close and six hours past the end of my shift. I stood up and made eye contact with Nick. He shook his head, understanding what I meant, and I left to head home.
The night air was crisp, and the moon was massive in the sky. I sighed as I got in my car. The drive home was quiet, with barely anyone on the road. I was too tired to even turn on the radio. I spent the drive quietly thinking. Before long, I was home, feeling rather depressed, and headed up to my apartment.
The living room was dark, so I kicked off my shoes and headed into the bedroom. Trixie, my girlfriend, was propped up in bed, engrossed in a book. She peered up at me.
"Welcome home. Late night, must have been a rough day?" she asked.
"You have no freaking idea. Those morons in development really screwed the pooch," I replied as I stripped down.
"Wanna tell me about it?" She asked, motioning for me to sit down. I sat down, and she started to lightly massage my shoulders. I filled her in on the events of the day, getting yelled at by customers for something that wasn’t my fault and being forced to stay late even though I adamantly refused.
"That’s not all. I can tell. What else is on your mind?" Trixie asked, her hands moving around my back.
"I don’t know. The job is just…" I struggled to find the right words. "It feels like I’m stuck in neutral. There isn’t a future for me there. They keep promising me opportunities that never come to fruition. The customers are difficult to deal with. The hours are long. I don’t make enough. The calls change, but every day is the same."
"Sounds like its time to quit."
"I wish I had the balls to just walk out the door, but that would make you the only one with a job. That wouldn't be fair to you."
"I don’t mind being the only one with a job for a while if it comes to that. You know a lot about computers; I’m sure you could find a better job than what you’re doing.
"I’ve looked, but everyone wants degrees or certifications. I’ve tried studying for a cert, but there is so much to know. I don’t have the time, especially on days like today where I'm stuck working practically open to close." I rubbed my eyes, trying to fight off the sleep I knew was coming. Trixie stopped massaging my back and pulled me into a hug from behind.
"I’m sure you’ll figure it out." She kissed me on the cheek. "Sarah told me Nick has been having the same kind of problems. Maybe you two can figure out something together. The hospital bills from Mikey really set them back."
"Yeah, I'll give him a call tomorrow." I muttered as I laid down, my head sinking into the softness of my pillow.
"Good. I’m sure he will appreciate it. Nothing is quite as therapeutic as best friend time." Trixie laid her head down on my chest.
"Yeah…" I muttered to myself as exhaustion overtook me and I fell into a restless sleep.
****************
I slowly stirred awake, not feeling Trixie’s warmth next to me. Actually, the entire room felt cold. My blanket was much thinner and scratchy. My bed was unusually hard. My tired mind dismissed all of this as I tried to go back to sleep. I rolled to the side, huddling under the blanket to secure more warmth. My first sign that something was wrong was when my breath blasted back in my face after I rolled over. My bed wasn’t supposed to be near the wall.
I opened my eyes and found myself staring at a cold, concrete wall. Panicking, I sprang out of bed, tossing the blanket aside. It was thin and gray, not the warm comforter I usually slept with. Trixie was nowhere to be seen. I was in a small room with three concrete walls. The fourth wall was made of hard iron bars. There was a toilet attached to the wall opposite my bed. A small bit of early morning daylight leaked in from a high window.
"What the? Where am I?" I cried out in confusion.
"Will you shut the hell up? We’ve got another half-hour before stand-up count, and I want to SLEEP!" a voice came from the left of me.
"Who are you?" I asked, still in a state of confusion.
"Is there a part of 'I WANT TO SLEEP' that isn’t clear to you? Have an existential crisis when the guards are here. You’ve been here longer than I have," the unfamiliar voice came again, sounding angrier this time.
"Will you two jackasses keep it down?" another voice called out from across the room. I looked over to see a man sitting up in a bed that looked anything but comfortable. He was bare-chested, covered by a thin blanket, and had a shaved head with beady eyes. He looked like a typical prison inmate.
That was when my tired and confused brain began to piece everything together. I was in a prison cell. The strange voices around me belonged to inmates. I wasn’t wearing my usual boxers but a pair of gray, plain underwear that I assumed were provided by the prison. I sat back down on the uncomfortable bed as my knees buckled beneath me.
"How had I gotten here? How long had I been here? What did I do that got me here? Why couldn't I remember anything?" A million unanswered questions raced through my mind. The last thing I remembered was falling asleep beside Trixie, but it was clear that time had passed. A person doesn't just get arrested, booked, issued prison clothes, and put in a cell in a few short hours.
I tried my best to remember something. Anything. Had I gotten drunk? No. I don't think so. I’d never once in my life been a blackout drunk, and besides, that would land someone in county jail, not prison. What did that guy say? I had been here longer than him? That put it at way more than a few hours so at least a couple of days, if not weeks. Had I hit my head?
I was jolted out of my thoughts when a loud noise blared throughout the room. I heard groans as other men got out of bed and started getting dressed. Not sure what else to do, I decided to follow suit.
Everyone lined up silently in front of their cells as two armed guards walked by with a book in hand. They visually examined each prisoner, made a quick note in the book, and proceeded forward. When they reached me, they made a note and moved on. No look of surprise in their eyes. No response indicating that I wasn't supposed to be here and this was some mistake.
"All right, time for breakfast. Report to the cafeteria" One of the guards commanded once they had finished taking count of us. The other pushed some buttons and I could hear a series of clicks as all of the cell doors unlocked. Not wanting to make a scene or stand out, I followed the other prisoners as they left.
The cafeteria was as drab as everything else, but I suppose I should have expected that. Several prisoners were already sitting at various tables, eating from blue trays. I made my way through the line and received a tray with a small amount of milk, some dry cereal, a pastry or scone of some kind, and a cup of black coffee. Unsure where to sit or what to do, I picked an empty table and sat down to be alone with my thoughts.
None of this made sense, I thought to myself as I forced down the bland breakfast. No one seemed surprised by my presence except me. Nobody even gave me a second glance..
"Hey buddy!" a chipper voice called out, pulling me from my thoughts. Another inmate sat down at my table with his breakfast. His face was pitted and dry, with a slight grey hue, indicating he had probably been here for a while. "What are you doing sitting here all by yourself? Us lifers have to stick together."
"Lifers?" I uttered in disbelief.
"What? You forget that I’m not getting out of here either?" The grey-skinned man laughed, clearly thinking I was joking. "I’m hurt. Best friends for eight years and you don’t even remember we’re stuck together forever."
Eight years? Eight....years...? His words echoed over and over again in my head. I had been here eight years? I'd just lost eight years or more of my life overnight and I did something in that time to end up in prison. I suddenly felt nauseous and turned around, vomiting on the prison floor
"Whoa, hey! Are you okay, man?" The inmate stood up and patted my back.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, still trembling from the shock. "I... I don't know what's going on. The last thing I remember is going to bed. Then I woke up here."
The inmate's face softened as realization crept into his eyes. "Look, my name's Dave. We've been friends for a while now. I've been waiting for this. Let them check you out at the infirmary. We'll talk more at rec."
I could only nod at Dave. He sounded a bit uneasy, but the sincerity in his voice seemed genuine. I tried to remain calm as the prison security guards crowded around to rush me along to the infirmary. One of them seemed frustrated, but it appeared more due to being asked to coordinate the clean-up.
The nurse in the prison infirmary asked me a series of questions, and I did my best to answer generically. This was the first time, I'd gotten a chance to see myself in a mirror. I looked like a hollowed-out version of my former self—my skin had greyed, my hair was thinning, and I had lost weight. It was like looking into a twisted nightmare.
The prison doctor entered, listened to my chest and heartbeat, and looked in my mouth. After reviewing the nurse’s notes, he concluded that my nausea was most likely due to my stomach reacting to something from dinner the previous night and that I wouldn’t need to be quarantined.
He recommended to the guards that if the nausea didn’t clear up in a day or two, I’d need to be re-examined. The guards made a note on a clipboard and whisked me back to my cell. I obediently stepped inside as they closed and locked the door.
I wasn’t sure what to do with myself at that point. The prison was on some kind of lockdown while they conducted another count. I decided to pass the time by exploring my cell, hoping to put together some of the missing pieces of my life.
That’s when I found a handful of letters under my bed. They were all in envelopes marked "return to sender." I recognized the address as the one for the apartment Trixie and I shared.
Feeling a heavy weight in my chest, I unfolded the letter with the oldest date—several weeks after I had gone to bed and woken up here—and began to read.
Dear Trixie,
You haven't spoken a word to me since before the trial. I'm so sorry. I wish I could explain to you why I had to do it, but I don't think you'd believe me anyway.
I have no doubt in my mind that the choice I made was for the best. I promise if I could tell you my reasons without sounding even crazier than you must think I am already, I would.
Just please believe me that it was for the best. I hope you understand one day.
I'm sorry for putting you through this.
Love Always,
I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t cried before—perhaps it was shock—but that was when the tears started to flow onto the paper. I couldn’t even remember what I had done, but it had cost me Trixie, one of the best things in my life.
It left me with more questions than answers. I went through the rest of the letters, but they were all similar—full of apologies and vague explanations, almost as if I couldn’t actually write what I had done. Trixie hadn’t responded to any of them.
Nothing made sense. I needed answers, and I hoped Dave could provide some during "rec."
To be continued
Thank you for getting this far! If you enjoyed this check out some of my other stories! Part 2 is here! and Part 3 coming soon. Subscribe and stay tuned.
Credit to Craiyon.com for images
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