Liberation, Chapter 5

If there's one experience just about anybody shares, it's losing a job.

If there's one experience just about nobody shares, it's losing a job.

Some people take the news with stride and see their departure as a new opportunity. Other people have been known to slash their ex-boss's tires with a switchblade. However that one common event unfolds, one principle always holds true; the unholy steed of stress offers its saddle to everyone, and 99% of them jump on for the ride.

Another common outcome is a thirst; a thirst for freedom, a thirst for adventure, a thirst for anything over 5% alcohol, which is typically the strongest of the three. That first, slow, coolly-carbonated drink is one of control. It's the one everybody remembers with fond memories, maybe that's why the drink leading into the fourth is remembered as the Final Fantasy. The only reason it exists is because of the self-denial that the second drink was a good as the first, which leads to the belief the third must be as good as the second, in effect being as good as the first. Anybody who knows their beverage knows that anybody who says the third drink was as good as the first is either lying or believing their self-delusions, but none can say they ever admit to it when it's them slinging the slugs. Four becomes five, six becomes eight; nobody realizes it when they've become the Nate, that guy making a bit of an ass of himself in the public eye. Nobody really notices at first, but that's also a product of self-denial. Slowly but surely, as the drinks make their way to their intended recipients and the bar tab slowly builds over the course of a few hours until it begins to resemble a college student's semesterly Starbucks budget, the mugs start to run dry and the only spirits left in the air are the excess of excitement that can only be conjured up with the perfect blend of anger, relief, self-assuredness, and ambition.

Dan sat on the sidewalk on the side of the bar, cars drove by on the main street to their side. He sat in a long-deserved state of bliss, the top of his shirt was unbuttoned and his sleeves were rolled up. He was drunk, while he and Brad waited for the cab their friend Jairo called, the pair decided to focus on the reality standing in front of them. Dan wiped the sweat from his forehead and let his face fall into his knees, although his cheerful spirit remained intact. "What am I gonna do now? All I have left is a couple hundred bucks in the bank and that damned high-interest credit card that cost me my last car." He was teetering back and forth on the edge of the sidewalk, his legs pulled into his chest.
"Don't worry about it, man. You'll think of something," Brad said as he tried to stand still, his palish face red from the spirit of the night. "Tomorrow morning, we'll wake up, go get some coffee from that girl you like, and we'll search for leads."
"And what if they're only looking for badgers?" Dan looked up at Brad with the most serious of faces.
"If they're looking for badgers you won't stand a chance. We'll make them think you are one of them and their own short-sightedness will be their downfall."

Dan stood up and staggered over to his equally debilitated friend. "Thank you, you're a true friend." Brad started laughing a little, which grew into an outburst once Dan joined in. Before long, Brad started to cough and put his hand up to cover his mouth. They soon returned to their normal selves. From around the bar, they heard their name being called. "Brad, Dan, the cab's here. Hurry up, let's go!" Jairo disappeared around the corner. "It's about time," Dan said as he started in the direction Jairo disappeared to, having to touch the wall with the tips of his fingers every couple of steps. Brad, on the other hand, staggered down the sidewalk, refusing any aid. Dan spoke, doing whatever he could to keep himself together, the alcohol was hitting him hard, "Let's go to the Waffle House... after we get back." He was starting to slur his words.
"Let's go tomorrow. Do you feel like walking a mile and a half just to get a waffle?" Brad shot back as they rounded the corner. Brad saw Jairo standing behind a front-side passenger cab door and headed over to him just as a trio of almost-thirty women walked out of the bar, clamoring on and giggling among themselves. "Here they are," Jairo said to the driver as he climbed in, and Brad, followed by Dan, filled the backseat of the cab.

"Is everyone buckled in?" The taxi driver called with a thick Russian accent as he adjusted his rear-view mirror. "Yes," Dan and Brad replied, one after the other, Dan, however was slouching slightly more than everybody else. The driver stood up in the seat and looked over at Dan from the rear-view mirror. "You look a little messed up back there. Are you going to be sick at all?" Dan gave a half-assed, yet confident "no," which led to Jairo inadvertently laughing out loud, which the driver took as suggesting otherwise. He looked back to Dan and tried concealing a worried-sounding sigh as he shifted into reverse and pulled out into the busy parkway.

Elsewhere, the spirit of the night had just begun it's daily rounds. "Hey Melissa," he said from his lawn chair, sitting upright with his legs swung over the side. She looked over at him from her own chair. Unlike her friend, Melissa was fully reclined.
"Yeah Bobby?" She said in a sweet, unassuming tone.
"You should be drinking, me and my housemates had this party so everyone could have a good time."
"I'm having fun, I'm just tired." She tried to sound as excited as she could. Bobby chuckled and she sat up in her chair and faced him.
"I'm sorry if you think I'm bored, I'm really not."
"Let's go have a shot then, we've got rum, tequila, 99 Bananas... or we could have a shot of the absinthe by brother brought back from France." Bobby played it smooth, he sounded off without as much as a stutter. Melissa stood up and Bobby followed, "Where's the bar at? It's out here somewhere right?" Her efforts were in vain as every party-minded man, woman, and underage college student were part of the obstruction standing between Melissa and the bottles of sweet liberation.

Bobby pointed between a pair of drunk dancers who were both clearly separated only by many years of age and through the audial membrane of the Hollywood Undead reaching from behind the smallish wooden bar, "Over there," Melissa took Bobby by the hand and walked over, dodging all the way. She passed by two remarkably similar-looking twenty-somethings snorting lines of cocaine on a side table, but she just ignored it, slipping between two groups of dancers and began looking at the bottles. Walking to the back of the bar, Bobby opened a small drawer, pulling out two novelty shot glasses with shrimps and fish on them and grabbed the closest bottle to his left.

"Let's try this. Every time I take a shot something good happens." He filled the shot glasses and reached for his. With her elbow on the bar, Melissa brought hers to her lips and gave Bobby her best facial taunt, which only made him laugh, which made her laugh out loud in turn. "Here's to another good night," Bobby said as he extended his arm and clinked his shot to Melissa's. They took their shots, hers right before his, their shot glasses tapping the table in the same order.

"Refreshing and self-destructive, an excellent combination."
Melissa shot to Bobby, who laughed from behind his teeth and looked across the table at her. "You're a funny girl, and pretty too." Melissa brushed his compliments aside, "let's dance." She stood up and made her way to the middle of the lanai, when she looked back and saw Bobby still seated, she waved him onto the dance floor and he reluctantly made his way to the center of the crowd in tow.

---

Back at his apartment complex, Dan leaned against the taxi, his arm rested at the top of the closed backside passenger door. Brad, on the other hand was slowly pacing back in forth in front of the taxi, tying to text or something on his phone. Jairo was ending a conversation with the driver with a few strong laughs. He handed the taxi driver a few folded up bills and some change, "Thank you sir, maybe we'll run into each other again some time," the taxi driver said as he put the money on the passenger seat. He glanced through the opposite window to the man leaning on his cab and returned to Jairo, who was walking around the front. Brad took notice and put his phone down for a second to get out of the way. Dan peeled himself away from the door and noticed Jairo before walking around the back of the taxi and towards the apartment building that lay ahead. The taxi driver shifted into gear and started driving off, the noise of the revving engine flooded out the song of the nocturnal insects.

Dan turned his head to Jairo, who was walking towards the building, hands in pockets, and he followed, pulling ahead of Jairo and passing Brad, who held his phone up to his ear, "I'll be right in, family call." He turned his back to Dan and replied with a "hello" while Dan dug through his right pocket for his keys. Dan fit the key he isolated from the rest and inserted it into the deadbolt, turned it, and put it into the door knob.

The door swung open to reveal a neatly-ordered living room complete with a blue-upholstered couch, a TV stand and setup, and a gray rug in opposition to the off-white floor. Dan fed the keys back into his pocket, took his shoes off at the door, and gravitated to the couch. Jairo was next to enter, he too removed his shoes and asked Dan if he had a bathroom. "Yeah, over there," his wide-sweeping gesture pointed to a small enclave," and on the right."
"Thanks, it's been a while since I've been over."
Dan took a long, deep breath and pulled his hands down his face to revive himself. Exhaling, he paused for a moment while Brad opened the door and stood for a moment, wrapping up his phone call.
"Yep, yep, I'll call you tomorrow... I love you too." He closed his phone and pocketed it as he walked in the door, closing it behind him.

He walked past the living room and into the kitchen just beyond and took a glass from the cabinet to fill with water from the tap. "Hey, are you alive?" Brad called from the kitchen, just as Dan got up and walked over to the television stand to snatch the remote up. "Probably," he replied, the television popped to life and he fell back into the embrace of the comfortable blue sofa, its upholstery still cool to the touch from the air conditioner. Dan slowly became entranced in the passage of television stations dancing before him. He slowed down when he got close to the cluster of channels he gravitated towards in his former years; brief and blurred visions of ultra-high resolution video game footage and their trendily-dressed commentators, modern-day American action cartoons that had long-since departed from their Japanese influences, Jean-Claude Van Demme's infamous role as Colonel William F. Guile in the American movie adaptation of Street Fighter II... Dan's former years found their avenue to catch up to him, and he found himself slowing the remote as he found himself in the middle of his favorite channels.

It wasn't until he put the remote down that he noticed Brad sitting in the chair next to his side of the couch. He looked at the untouched glass of water Brad was grasping when it made its way to him.
"You need this more than I do."
Dan took a sip from the glass and stretched forward to set it on the low table. Settling back into his couch indentation, Dan's eyes were met with some show he'd never seen before. He looked at it with intent,
"What do you think this is? Gundam? Code Geass? Full Metal Panic?"
"I don't have a clue," Brad replied, "it doesn't really look like any of them."
"Is that your final answer?" Dan laughed, half self-muffled at replying with that old, tired quote. "It's about time they made anime for our generation again. All of this new crap is the same high school-oriented stuff we watched ten years ago."
"If they did that it wouldn't make them any money, anime didn't catch on as heavily when we were kids than it does today."
Dan reeled his head at this harsh check of reality, "I just can't watch this stuff anymore." With that, Dan suppressed the TV guide button and scrolled through the listings.
"Hey, flip to the news, I want to check on something," Brad requested, the chair beneath him groaned as he settled in. Dan pointed the remote and punched in the numbers,
"and the word of the day is..." He punctuated his clause with a swift press of the final digit, and the television screen flickered into the middle of what looked like a political address. The person speaking, however, was the founder of Terran Innovation, an environmental engineering company recently charged with ethics violation and environmental destruction charges.

The CEO and founder, Leysa Kindreson, spoke from the podium to her captive audience. "...do not believe we can be held accountable. Our workers are guided by strict procedural protocol and are supervised by experts in the field..." Dan looked over at Brad, who was hanging onto every word.
"...we Can Not..." She punctuated. One of her colleagues, a silver-haired man with a comb-over adjusted his posture so he was sitting up straight, but was overcome with a tried expression. It looked as if he were reaching into his pocket before the camera re-focused on Kindreson, whose last comment had aroused a number of questions from the crowd. Reporters and protesters held their microphones and banners in the air respectively, one such banner reading "Don't take away my baby's water." Kindreson was having trouble keeping focus on just one person, and the security stepped in to part the crowds away from the stage.
"You, from INN." She selected a single reporter from the unsatiated crowd.

"Good afternoon," the female reporter said in a heavy-toned voice. "Cindy Pfam from Independent News Network. Rumors have come to our attention at INN that tell us of your security's intervention at last week's research reserve rally was in direct violation of constitutional allowances for protestors. Has this issue been brought to your attention, and if so, how do you anticipate future violations of first-amendment rights to be avoided?"

The crowd grew calm and silent. Kindreson paused for a moment, then began. "Ms. Pfam of INN, I'm glad you bring this issue forward. As a matter of fact, this issue has been brought to my attention and while I don't have any final decisions, I am considering many options at this point. My current considerations include additional training to my security staff, reducing total working hours while maintaining current pay scales, and assigning..."

*Blip*

The sudden blackening of the screen prevented Kindreson from continuing her speech, but it didn't matter to anybody in the room. Dan leaned forward and lifted off the couch, using the arm rest for balance. Brad was fast asleep in the chair next to the couch, and the bathroom door knob sounded off, producing Jairo's clearly composed form. He walked over to Dan, who was resetting the cushions on his couch.
"Hey man, how ya feelin?"
Jairo rubbed his eyes and breathed a heavy breath before extending his left hand to Dan. "I'm goin' home, buddy. You take care of yourself, and don't be a stranger."
Dan took his friend's hand in a shake and glanced at the couch, "You can stay here if you're not up for driving."
"I'm fine, just a little tired." He said, trying to sound enthusiastic enough so Dan wouldn't worry. "I barely drank anything, you know that."
Dan nodded his head in agreement. "Drive safely, hit me up some time."
"Okay, I will."

Jairo walked up to the door and unlocked it, then he walked out, leaving the door open. Dan walked up and caught Jairo pressing the lock button on his keys. Dan saw him turn towards the sound of a brief car horn, then shut the door, throwing on only the top lock. Turning around, he rubbed his eyelids and embarked up the flight of stairs before him. He opened the door just at the top of the stairs and walked in. He crawled into his bed and was about to set his alarm when he stopped his arm from reaching over fully. He paused, then retracted his hand, letting it lay on top of the comforter. He stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, taking in the silence, not allowing himself to think a single thought. When he felt his stillness of mind sinking, and thoughts of the possibility of him having to move out of his apartment, he shut his eyes and succumbed to the night's dark embraces.

---

Sunlight, filtering in between the alternating leaf blades of a royal palm frond, illuminated the empty bed space behind her back. Melissa turned over on to her opposite, left side, and her eyelids swung open, filling her vision with black palm fronds dancing in the sunlight. Scrunching her face and breathing in heavily, she sat up in the bed she lay in, taking a minute to come to her senses. Waiting for something to happen, she found the silence gnawing on her patience.

Tossing and turning around on the floor-bound mattress, she scanned the floorspace vehemently for something to put on. Settling for an old shirt hanging off the back of a chair and her own pair of capris, she departed through the half-open doorway for signs of life in the barely-familiar house. Her initial survey from outside the door produced nothing for her, and in a reluctant stride from the bedroom door, she began her foray. Melissa slowly walked through the hallway, glancing at the doors opposite one another on her sides, but declined to open them. Her mind ran through the few dozen graphic scenarios she might encounter as a result of waking somebody up. Considering how well things started getting out-of-hand the night before, this was a chance she wasn't willing to take. As she approached the top of the stairwell, the walls fell behind her and he took a look around downstairs, but found nothing aside from what would be the last straw for any professional cleaner's career.

'Where is he? He shouldn't have gone anywhere, this Is his house after all...' Melissa thought as she descended the stairwell, staying on the lookout for anything she may step in on her way down, her thoughts began rolling around in her head. She left the staircase and peered to her left into the connecting room to the kitchen and found nothing. She took a sharp left into the living room and still found nothing, even the master bedroom she somehow found the resolve to open was bare of anything living. Despite being at a loss, she tread into the kitchen, knowing nobody was there, but she didn't have anything to go off of at this point. Growing frustrated, she turned around and slowly began pacing to the living room, when she thought she heard a car somewhere nearby.

Melissa briskly walked to the front door in front of the stairwell once more to take a look out the window. When she caught the image of a dark sedan, distorted from the curves in the glass, she unlatched the door locks and walked out on to the hot, white cement walkway. As she walked, an unfamiliar person got out of the driver door and she froze in mid-stride.
"Hello," she said to the driver, "have... you seen Bobby around?"

The large man, with his shaved head, his beard shaved into narrow lines, and dark sunglasses bent over, turned his head inside the car, and called, "Hey Bobby, some girl is looking for you." A number of voices from inside the car began whooping and hollering, and the large man turned back to Melissa slowly and in jerky movements, and then the back door on the opposite side opened up, and a dark, closely-shaved head emerged over the roof-horizon. Bobby turned around quickly to face Melissa, his toothy grin provided a stark contrast to the large, black lenses hiding half of his face.
"Hey Mel, you're up. What're you doing outside?"
"Nothing, I was just looking for you is all."

He jumped out from behind the car and approached her with a plastic bag in his right hand.
"Here," he held the bag up for her. She took it and looked inside, "It's breakfast."

Melissa found a large Styrofoam box and a bottle of water inside, she opened the Styrofoam box and peered inside.
"A greasy cheeseburger and curly fries?"
"It's the breakfast of college kids everywhere," he kissed her cheek as he passed and wrapped his arm around her waist as he walked back to the house.
"Bobby, do they know what happened last night?" She looked back to the driver and the three other male passengers, who were all standing outside the car at this point and laughing obnoxiously. Bobby stopped and Melissa followed in step, "of course not, I don't kiss and tell."
The driver looked at Melissa with a cocky grin on his face, then back to everybody else at the car.
"Are you sure? They made a lot of noise at you in the car before. Did they ask you about it?"
"They asked me about it, yeah," Bobby replied, he shoved his hands in his pockets.
"Did you deny it?" Melissa's tone became more direct as she spoke.
"I... didn't deny it, but I never said anything to them. You know how guys are."
"Oh."
Bobby put his hand on her shoulder as Melissa turned to the door, "let's go inside, I'm sure you're hungry."
"Can we eat upstairs?"
"Of course, baby."
She grinned and bumped him in the side with her own.
"Okay," she said as they walked into the house together. Bobby's friends followed after them.

Once inside, Bobby gestured, white plastic bag in hand, for Melissa to go ahead. They reached the top of the stairs and turned right, walking down the hallway towards the door at the end. She opened the door and set her bag on the floor next to the mattress. Bobby emerged through the door just behind her and pushed it closed, he was greeted to a passionate kiss the moment he turned around.

"You're not mad?"
"About what?" Melissa replied.
"Nothing," he said as he kissed her again.

Melissa pulled him off of the door and on to the mattress, where they rolled around and held each other close, "I don't care if they know, I'm not a white princess."
Bobby began kissing her on the neck, "yes you are, you are to me anyways."
Melissa smiled contently at this and laid her head gently into his chest, "thanks for going to get breakfast."
Bobby placed his hand on the back of her head, "you don't have to thank me, I wanted to do it."
Melissa squirmed around until she was propped up on her elbow, "let's eat then, it smells really good now."