End Scene
July 08, 2003
So, it’s true?
He asked very slowly with a solemn tone and rocksteady expression. There was no time left to joke around. He wiped some beads of sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his Hugo Boss shirt. Not much use, he was sweating profusely. He waited for a reply.
Yes. They confirmed it. We can’t escape.
She tried to answer as sensitively and easily as she could but even she could see her own fingers, hands, and arms trembling. She could see the look of concealed fear on his face as it sunk in. Their lives were going to end soon.
He was a small time lawyer in her father’s practice. He mostly dealt with commercial implications. That just meant he had to defend lying, scumbag executives who embezzled and fraudulently took honest people’s money. He’s gotten creeps out of potential prison time and even let some keep their immoral earnings. He’s seen victims jump out of buildings at the thought of losing their retirement money or kids’ college funds. He’s dealt with pretty tough shit in these seven years but nothing in his premiere law school education has prepared him for this. He could taste the horror and pain that was inevitably coming.
She never imagined this could happen. Things like this just don’t happen to people like them. Not in their affluent neighborhood. Not in their town. Not in their freaking state. Maybe they happened in movies or maybe in Europe, she didn’t know. Her training as a legal assistant wouldn’t help. She suddenly wished she had stuck with the Girl Scouts instead of going tiara shopping with the other snooty princess types when she was young. She might have learned something useful for a time like this.
He took this very seriously. He thought, he processed, and he data-mined but all his speculation only came to one conclusion: the world as they knew it would end. There would be no more Martinis with the boys, no more Sunday polo with the clients, and worst of all, no more fooling around with his young secretaries while claiming to be on client visits. Hell, his Jag XK8 didn’t even seem so important and luxurious anymore. It’s just stuff now. He now realizes all the things that he missed while growing up and all that wasted time used to get to know those in the upper echelons of society. So what if he met the successful and rich lawyer? So what if he married his beautiful daughter? So what if he was named “Successful Citizen of The Year” in 1996? Every meal, every breath, and every little thing from now would be his last.
She blamed him. Then she blamed herself. Then she blamed everything else. The government should’ve done something about this. Or maybe the military. They can create billion dollar, radar-avoiding jets but they couldn’t do anything to stop this? That’s impossible! They lived in America! They lived in the 21st century! They had automatic vacuums rovers and platinum plated javacino machines! There was a Starbucks on every block! And yet, nobody could do a thing to stop this? No one could stop this from happening? Where?s the progress? The globalization? The space age creativity that fueled the nation? All bullshit. She briefly thought about suicide but she knew she could never go through with it. Maybe he could end her life but he’ll just say, “But who will do it to me after you’re dead?’
They both stood there in their tastefully decorated summer room. The double-whip chai lattes on the table were getting cold but they didn’t notice. The 12th century ceramic pottery on the 18th century ivory pedestal looked just plain old. They stared at each other and cowered in fear. Their lives were over. All the future dreams of real estate and country clubs and equity investments were now moldy and old-fashioned. There was no denying it. Their lives were over.
They were having a baby.
This was written awhile ago but I didn’t get a chance to edit it for mistakes until now. The idea was spawned after that cockroach story awhile back. Feedback highly welcome.
