A pile of mail fell onto Paul Simons’ desk, all addressed to him. The thump caused him to click back into reality after about an hour of concentrating deeply on his work.
Paul looked up, expressionless at first. His secretary smiled back at him.
“Thanks,” he said, shoving the mail aside.
Paul reclined in his chair as his secretary closed his office door behind her. Leaning his head to the side, he saw his faint reflection in the window and stared deeply into his eyes.
He was nothing more than another
man in this world. Life flowed seamlessly with little disturbance. Graduating
with a master in business, success always found him and he made it to the top
instantly. He married his high school sweetheart, Leona, after he started
graduate school; they seemed perfect and made people with terrible luck with
love jealous. He had his father’s house, built from the ground up. He
understood his children just as they understood him. One could say he had
everything in the palm of his hand.
A mailman was walking down the driveway as Paul pulled his car up to the garage.
“Hey, Marc,” Paul said, stepping out of the vehicle.
“Paul, it’s been a while,” Marc responded. “Feeling any better?”
“Yeah.” Paul squinted his eyes and titled his head to the side. “Your mail run’s kinda late today.”
“Just a little. Some lady freaked when a package for her was covered in white dust or something. That kinda bogged me down and I’ve been rushing to get everything done. My wife’s been flipping out for some reason and wants me home right away so we can talk.” Marc’s sentences were rushed and slightly inaudible.
“Guess I could tell.” Paul nudged towards a drip of sweat on Marc’s forehead.
Marc smiled and did a dance with his hands, signaling the houses going up Sunset Boulevard that he still needed to deliver mail to.
“By the way, Paul, hand your wife this package. From her parents, I believe.”
“Will do,” Paul smiled. “Well, it was nice seeing you, Marc.”
“Yeah, definitely!” Marc called as he scurried along the sidewalk.
Closing the front door behind
him, he threw his coat and briefcase in the living room. He found Leona in the
kitchen, kissed her clothed shoulder and handed her the package, surprising her
slightly.
“Hey, Paul?” Leona asked as she crawled into bed.
“Hm?” Paul was too focused on a new book he recently picked up.
“I have to leave early tomorrow. Remember, I have to drop off my parents at the airport?”
“Okay.” The book seemed like God to him; he was into it like some religious missionary, sublimely hinting at Leona that she should read more often.
Leona leaned towards him, carefully grasped the book and shut its textured covers, enclosing the crisp pages again. After slipping the book between their pillows, she placed a hand on his cheek and gently drew Paul closer until their lips met. There was a moment of silence as they both stared into each other’s eyes, the mood filling their hearts with a lovey-dovey vibe while animal instincts became unbearable. At least for Paul, that was the case.
“Good night,” Leona whispered,
switching off Paul’s light on his side of the bed, and rolling onto her side,
not facing him.
Paul awoke the next morning, blankets halfway onto the floor and Leona’s pillow shoved out of place. He was lying on his stomach, faced buried into his own pillow.
Aw, fuck. No sex for me. He kicked off the rest of the blankets like a child and brought himself to a sitting up position. A little girl ran into the room.
“Daddy!” she said, jumping onto the bed and embracing his neck.
“Hey, there,” Paul said, hugging her tiny waist.
Her smile was bright and wide and she danced around on the bed. All of a sudden, she landed flat on her bottom and screamed slightly. Paul crawled to where she was on Leona’s side of the bed but the little girl ran away. His hand was placed on something that wasn’t the fuzzy feeling of their sheets. Not completely sure what it was, he rubbed it slightly with the tip of his finger, then leaned in. It’s… His sense of smell was beginning to return after that nasty cold.
Yeah. Just great.
Paul lost his appetite and pushed his food around his plate. The mess on the dish reflected nothing on his actions in bed. Intentional or not, he would be the gentleman he always was and clean up after himself. So who?
He thought of his son, a bright, eager-to-learn seventeen year-old. He never had a doubt with his son’s performance in school. Ever since he could remember, Jason absorbed knowledge like a sponge, and Paul knew from day one that he would pull through school without a hitch. As a result, Paul was lax with Jason; just so long as Jason kept up his grades and was able to prove it, he could do almost as much as he wanted – get high, get drunk and stay out late.
Drunken sex adventure? It was a possibility. But then again, Jason had a decent amount of sense while drunk or high. But then… But then…
Paul looked out the window towards the Greene residence, a cabin-like house, built with what looked like dark boards of redwood. First, he imagined the structure from the front and admired it, continuing by picturing the Greene family – two elementary school-aged girls, a son in high school, Mrs. Greene and Mr. Greene. Mr. Greene? Mr. Greene.
Andrew Greene and Leona were friends since childhood, Paul remembered her telling him one day. Although their childhood friendship never sparked anything more, at some point, Andrew thought their bond could potentially mean more, made a move, but was instantly rejected. For a year or so, they didn’t speak to one another, not until the end of senior year in high school, when they bumped into each other after walking the stage. Leona and Paul were already a year and a half into their relationship, and Paul was impatiently waiting for her to join him at the state university. A year and a half seemingly perfect with air bubbles under the adhesive tape here and there.
True, they were friends, but she would never see Andrew that way. Hell, she hates him partially because of his stupid move on her. Eliminate…
Knock, knock, knock. Paul forced himself to get the door.
“Hey!” Marc exclaimed. “You look kinda shot up…”
After concentrating on one spot on the floor, Paul raised his head until his eyes met Marc’s and stared deeply into them. There was an aura Paul couldn’t describe, a tension, spiced with anger, laced with confusion, and an urge to take it out on the next man in his presence. No. Breathe in, breathe out, deeply.
“Well, I’ve got a package for you.” Marc handed Paul a box the size of a manila envelope.
Paul’s smile was obviously fake. “Yeah, thanks.” The door locks clicked into place.
Paul hadn’t moved from the doorway though. He heard Marc’s footsteps fading, and the sound of his mail truck starting up and driving off.
He set the package on the table,
grabbed a knife, slit the tape and ripped the flaps open. Inside was a letter
on one of Leona’s stationary, in Leona’s seamless half-print, half-cursive
handwriting; underneath was a matte silver picture frame, containing a picture
of Leona and Paul, torn in half, but bunched back together and stuffed into the
frame.
Dear Paul,
By the time you receive this parcel, I have already purchased two one-way tickets to Germany, to join my parents.
Why two tickets? By now, I’m sure you have discovered one of the several secrets I’ve kept from you. But have you completely figured it out? I know you; three strikes and you’re out. You were on your last straw and I knew you didn’t want to lose.
He was right in front of you the whole time, right under your nose. And you let him get away. Paul, you lost. You struck out. If you had taken the chance, maybe you would have won. But worst of all, you lost me. …
Paul immediately stopped reading. The box was the exact same box Marc handed him the day before, only the sender’s name was replaced with Paul’s. He peeled off the label and saw Leona’s name; it was the same package.
Throwing the page into the air, he ran out the door and looked up and down the street. His heart was racing and his mind couldn’t think straight.
Right under my nose. Right under my nose! Fuck! He was so close, his fist was clenching, muscles twitching; he was ready to punch Marc’s nose off mainly because he was angry, but more so now that he knew what he was confident the deal was.
Walking back up the driveway, he stopped in front of the garage door and punched it with hidden strength. A dent formed, wood cracking inward and paint fluttering off in little chips. Inside, he picked the letter up and scanned it.
Something about a Flight 360. Lufthansa. LH 360.
Paul finally sat down and relaxed
into the sofa. He was able to feel his blood circulating, his heart pumping.
So why’d your love go away? I just can’t seem to understand… I thought it
was you and me… At one p.m., he drifted off to sleep.
“Daddy! Wake up!” Paul’s little daughter was all over him again.
“Daddy’s not feeling to good. Where’s your brother? Go get him to play with you or something.”
Paul clicked the television on as the girl ran into the distance. It was still set on a local news channel; it was five-fifteen in the evening now.
“Additional breaking news,” the glowing box said, loud enough for only Paul to hear. “Lufthansa Flight 360, from O’Hare International to Frankfurt, crashed in the middle of the Atlantic. No word on how it crashed, but the aircraft is currently sitting on the ocean and is slowly sinking. Rescue crews are afraid they won’t make it in time–”
Paul switched the television off and sunk into the sofa cushions.
What goes around, goes around, goes around, and comes all the way back around.
“Hey, it’s karma,” he whispered.