Joan

            “I’ll need that brief a week from Tuesday, Joan.”

            Joan looked up from her neatly organized desk, and stared up at her boss, Stan Green, a tall, stiff man.  He was partner at the law firm she worked at, and he’d been reminding her about this brief repeatedly for the past few days.  It was a very important assignment, as Joan knew well. 

            “Of course,” Joan said matter-of-factly.  “But as I told you, I’m leaving a bit early today.”  She had to pick up her eight and ten-year-old kids from elementary school today, as the nanny had called in sick.  She gathered her things and headed off to her Mercedes station wagon. 

            Joan pulled out of the office’s parking lot and glanced at her Rolex as she sped off toward the freeway.  3:00.  That meant she had to be at Grant and Isabella’s elementary school in fifteen minutes.  She was starving, and figured she had time to stop for a quick snack.  Strangely enough, Joan had been craving a Snicker’s bar all day.  She hadn’t eaten one in months, as she’d been on the Atkins’s Diet for a while now.  But Joan thought she deserved a little treat.  Something special, out of the ordinary.  She’d had a busy week—she’d been working diligently on the brief for Green; and she’d had to carpool the children everywhere; and she’d cooked dinner for her husband, Mark, and the kids five days in a row.  Rarely did she have any free time, and lately it had been getting to her.

            Joan drove into the Mini-Mart next to the gas station a few streets away from the kids’ school.  She walked in briskly, her high-heeled shoes clicking rhythmically on the tile floor, and selected a Snickers bar off a shelf. 

            “That’ll be eighty-five cents,” said the cashier.

            Joan reached into her leather handbag, feeling around for her wallet.  She shook her head in when she realized she’d left it at the office.   This type of thing never usually happened to her—Joan always remembered everything. 

            “Listen,” she told the cashier with a polite smile, “I’ve seemed to have misplaced my wallet.  The candy bar’s only a few cents.  Next time I come, I’ll leave you an extra-big tip.” 

            “I’m sorry.  I can’t give you that candy bar for free.  It’s against the law,” the cashier responded gruffly.

            Joan laughed nervously.  “I know.  I’ve just really been craving a Snicker’s bar.  Oh well.”  She flashed a friendly smile at the cashier.  The cashier looked coldly at her in return.  How rude, she thought to herself.  She sighed.  “Fine.  I’ll just go put it back myself.”

            Joan walked down the aisle to return the candy.  As she placed the Snickers bar back on the shelf, an unusual thought crossed her mind.  What if she simply took the candy bar?  She could come back another time and pay for it, so it wouldn’t really be stealing.  Joan had never done anything like this before and she knew it was wrong.  But one time couldn’t hurt, right?

            Joan discreetly eyed the cashier, who was reading a magazine.  She grabbed the Snickers and gently dropped it into her purse.  Suddenly, she felt a rush of adrenaline.  She experienced a rapid jolt of energy and was suddenly powerful, confident.  She didn’t feel like herself—she felt better.  Almost without thinking about it, Joan jauntily walked out of the store. 

            Exhilarated, Joan got into her station wagon.  She turned the key and blinked as the car’s clock was illuminated.  3:13.  She panicked as she discovered she would be late to pick up the kids.  And suddenly, the rush she had felt in the Mini-Mart disappeared just as quickly as it had come to her.  She had actually stolen something, she thought in shock.  Something she didn’t even need!  She had done something illegal, something wrong.  What would Grant and Isabella think of her, if they knew?  And Mark?  But it was one time thing, she reasoned.  It would never happen again.  She couldn’t let it.  Joan tried to push away the intense anxiety she was feeling as she drove to the elementary school. 

***

            Joan arrived home late that evening.  After picking up Grant and Isabella, she’d dropped them off at home.  Promptly, Joan went up to her office to finish the brief for Green.  She took her neatly-organized folder out from her leather briefcase and sat down by her computer.

            Normally, Joan was an extremely productive worker.  She’d gone to one of the best universities in the country and a top law school, and had never failed to turn in a single assignment.  As a lawyer, she worked diligently and wasted little time.  But today, Joan was distracted.  She still could not get the incident from earlier that day out of her head.  She felt intense guiltiness, but remembered that rush she had gotten when she had stolen.  A part of her wanted to steal again.

            “Honey?  You doing okay?”  Joan’s husband, Mark, looked over at the blank computer screen and back at his wife, interrupting her thoughts.  She’d been alone in her office for more than two hours. 

            “What?  Oh, um, yes, I’m fine.  Just having a bit of trouble getting started,” she said.  “Listen, I’m going to be busy for a while.  Would you mind ordering take-out for dinner?  I’m just swamped.”  Normally, Joan would make dinner for her family, but she wasn’t feeling like herself.

            Mark furrowed his brows slightly, but agreed.  When he left the room, Joan sighed and rested her head on her hands.  She needed to finish this brief.  What if she took something from another store?  Something cheap?  She could return it, of course.  It could give her the energy to come back and finish her work.  Joan stood up and walked out to her car, a feeling of worry slowly developing in the pit of her stomach.  Still, she was going to do this.

            Joan approached the nearest store, a Staples, a few minutes later.  She quickly walked to the back of the store, determined.  Looking around to check if anyone was watching, Joan grabbed a box of pencils, barely acknowledging what it was, and stuffed it into her purse.  And, like earlier that day, she was filled with that extraordinary energy, a combination of fear and euphoria.  She exited the store, heart pounding, threw the pencils into the trunk next to the snickers bar, and drove home. 

***

            Two weeks later, Joan was sitting in her office.  In the past fourteen days, she had stolen a pack of gum, a Reader’s Digest magazine, a box of paper clips, and a keychain, among other objects, from various stores.   Joan left these items untouched after taking them, leaving them in a large pile in the trunk of her car.  She hadn’t been caught and hadn’t told anyone.  She still felt guilty about stealing, but was doing it more and more, focusing less on other things in her life.  She needed that feeling it gave her.

            “Joan,” Stan Green said as he walked over to Joan’s desk, “today is Tuesday.  I need the brief.”

            Joan stood still for a moment, remembering what Green was referring to.  She took out her briefcase and started to rummage though it.  Suddenly, her eyes widened.  “Oh my god.  Oh my fucking god,” she muttered to herself.  She had never failed to turn in anything in her life, let alone an important law brief.

            “Where is it, Joan?” asked Green.

            Joan was sweating feverishly and her heart was pounding wildly.  “I don’t have it.”

            “Well, why the hell not?”

            Joan put her hand on her forehead and sighed weakly.  She paused before saying, “I seem to have forgotten it.”  She was utterly humiliated.

            “Joan, this is entirely unlike you.  What could have possibly prompted this?”

            Joan’s eyes began to well with tears.  Soon, those tears became tremendous, loud sobs.  “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.  The kids, the brief…” She trailed off.  She couldn’t mention her new habit.  Especially not to Green.  Her career—and her life— would be over.  

            “Listen, Joan,” Green said softly, “Why don’t you take the rest of this week off?  A little break could do you some good.”

            “A break?  A break?” Joan cried angrily.  She hadn’t taken a sick day in over ten years, let alone a “break.”  “No, I’m fine.  Let me stay,” she chocked between sobs. 

            “I’m going to have to insist you go home,” Green said, more harshly. 

            “Please, Stan,” she gulped, wiping her tears.  “This won’t happen again.  I promise.  Please.”

            “I’ll see you in a few weeks.  Enjoy your time off.”  Stan forcefully patted Joan on the back and helped her gather her things.  Still crying, Joan walked out of the office, trying to avoid the penetrating looks of her coworkers, who were staring at her in shock.  She covered her face with her arm and quickly walked to her car, almost crashing into a potted plant on her way out. 

            She started the car and drove, without really thinking where.  Ahead of her was a Wal-Mart.  In a daze, she pulled into the parking lot.  She walked out of the car, fully knowing what was coming next, but not feeling nearly as anxious as she had been before.  All Joan knew was that she wanted the rush again.  She needed to feel impenetrable, free.  She needed to steal. 

***

Four hours later, Joan lay on the top of her bead, fully clothed.  Her eyes were covered with smeared mascara and her normally flat-ironed hair was frizzy and unruly.  Next to the other items she had collected, in the trunk of her car lay three packs of peanut M&M’s, a mini container of laundry detergent, a bottle of hairspray, a metal ice cream scooper, and more objects she had stolen.  She’d gone to five different stores, six, maybe, after leaving the office—Joan couldn’t even remember.  It was all a blur, a faint memory. 

Joan rolled over onto her side and covered her eyes with a pillow. She didn’t want to think.  She couldn’t think.  What she had done—it was too much for her to handle.

“Honey?”  Groggy from dozing off, Joan heard the sound of her husband’s voice.  “I’m going to the gym.  My car’s in the shop, so I’m gonna borrow yours.  Be back in a few hours,” he called out.

Joan sighed.  She just wanted to go back to sleep.  He could do whatever he wanted with—the car?  Suddenly, Joan remembered exactly what was in her car.  If he saw…Joan couldn’t let that happen.  There was no way. 

In a panic, Joan leapt out of bed.  “No, actually, um, Mark, my car’s been having some problems, too.   You better not use it,” she yelled. She heard the front to door close as Mark walked to the car.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath. She sprinted out of her house and ran outside.  “Don’t open the—”

Too late.  Mark had unlocked the car and was opening the trunk to put his gym bag away. The trunk made a long, shrill squeak as it slowly opened. Joan began to feel dizzy and sick to her stomach.  She could barely force herself to look at its contents.  It was filled completely with countless objects, some Joan didn’t even remember taking at all.  They were flowing onto the ground, landing on the street and under the car.

“What’s all this stuff, Joan?” Mark said, running his fingers through the stolen items. 

Joan looked at her husband, defeated.  She was a wreck.  There was nothing she could do now.  Her life was over.  She was certain.  She put a hand on the side of her car to keep herself from collapsing.  “Mark,” Joan said shakily, trying to keep from crying.  She hesitated. “I think I have a problem.”