Endings And Beginnings

At 458 pm on Tuesday, I walked into the office manager’s lair and said, “Think fast!” She looked up and I tossed my keys at her, underhanded. She moved pretty adroitly for an obese diabolical narcissist, and she caught the keys. “Thank you, sir,” she said. “Good luck.”

I didn’t say a word to her. Walked out and was met by one of my coworkers, who embraced me and told me she was going to miss me. Then I walked out to the lobby where two more coworkers were busy and said, “Girls? Adios.”

They both turned to me, and one of them said, “Good luck.” The other walked towards me as if she wanted to hug me, but then she looked at the other one, who is THE penultimate asskisser of the office manager, and she thought better of it, and she just lifted her and and told me good-bye.

There was one other employee left in the building, and she stopped me on the way out, hugged me and thanked me for everything I’d done for her. I said my farewell and went on down the hall to the back door, the employee entrance. I hit the bar on the door with my hip and stepped out into the warm sunshine, then turned and watched the door swing shut. I had no keys to re-enter had I remembered something I’d needed.

“Well, that’s that,” I said to the sky, and I felt cleansed and whole and good. I felt good.

Walked across the parking lot to the little tree, beneath which I parked so many mornings. I looked around for my crows, but didn’t see them. I heard a couple of them calling from somewhere near, but they didn’t approach. I went to the tree and yes, I hugged her. I said a few words to her and laid my cheek against the lichens on her trunk, and then I reached up and snapped off a slender branch.

“Taking a part of you with me,” I said. I looked up at her, thinking of how she would be leafing out in a few weeks, then popping out with those pretty purple blossoms, and then casting a cooling shade in that little corner of asphalt.

Then I opened the door and put my things on the seat, shut the door behind me, and started the engine. I looked over at the building where I’d spent so many hours, and then I looked away. I drove to the exit of the parking lot, the parking lot where I’d sprinkled so many crackers for the corvid boys over the years. I turned left, and turned the page on a chapter of my life. I don’t remember what I thought of on the drive home, but I do remember that I felt like laughing and shouting through every rolling mile.

When I reached my little farmhouse, my wife was at the door, watching for me. The dogs were in the back yard and began cutting up as I shut the car door. My wife’s face was lit like the halls of heaven and she stepped out and squealed, “It’s over! You’re home!” and we embraced and kissed and I went inside and set about living the next section of this Orr mystery.

And that’s that.

~ S.K. Orr