The Brown Bag

The Brown Bag

The Brown Bag


Mike opened the door to the box-filled living room of his one bedroom apartment and struggled to get through the door. His hands were encumbered with the many plastic handles of grocery bags. Once inside he turned, using the bags to close the door, and then proceeded through the maze of boxes that filled his living room to the kitchen, which was the same room. Mike sat the bags on the floor and began unpacking the multitude of bachelor type foods like frozen pizza, luncheon meat, bread, cheese and, his favorite, microwavable macaroni & cheese. As he put the food away he began to wonder when he had actually cooked a meal. In high school his mother always cooked for him, in college he ate fast food, at least when he had money to eat, and when he was married his wife did all the cooking. Sure he helped at times but only to make sure something didn’t boil over or to hand his wife the salt.

“Come to think of it,” he said thinking out loud, “tonight will be the first time I’ve ever cooked my own meal.”

The idea of Mike cooking his own meal was frightening as well as liberating. Never again would he have to conform to what someone else thought he should have for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

“From here on out, it’s what I want and no one else!” Mike declared boldly as he pulled a bag of cat food from the grocery bag. He then noticed Teddy, the best thing to come from his marriage, leaped onto the counter all the while meowing softly.

“Except for you, Teddy,” Mike assured him as he scratched Teddy’s black and white head.

Teddy was a black and white stray that had gotten into Mike’s house when his wife came home from shopping and left the door open. Mike’s wife wanted to name him Spot, Spots or some name like that, Mike couldn’t remember. When Mike got home he found his wife frustrated because the cat wouldn’t answer to the name she gave him. Mike told her that he probably didn’t like it and that the cat needed a new name. She then challenged Mike to give him a name and so Mike named the cat Teddy, after his favorite president Teddy Roosevelt. The name stuck and the cat answered proudly to it.

Opening the bag of cat food, Mike poured his bowl full and rolled the bag closed. Teddy dropped from the counter and began to devour the food. Mike smiled as he put the cat food away and turned to finish putting up the groceries. Collecting the empty bags and throwing them into the trash, he pulled a brown paper bag covered bottle from the last bag. Mike sat the bottle onto the counter next to a glass and pulled his shaking hand away.

Mike’s face was that of a kid that had just stolen something for the first time and got away with it. Mike didn’t exactly steal the bottle; it was put in by mistake. The bagger had forgotten that he placed it to the side when he was bagging for the previous customer. The fact that Mike saw everything but decided not to say anything left him with thoughts of a hidden agenda. He had been sober for a little over a year and until now had never thought about drinking. The thought of pouring a glass caused his mouth to water and his hands to shake. The drinking was what caused most of the damage with his wife and even after he quit drinking she still left him. Mike suddenly shook violently as the phone sprang to life. He exhaled deeply as he grabbed his chest in relief. He then began to search for the phone among the disorganized room. Following the sound he made his way to his writing table and searched through the mountain of wadded papers that littered his writing area.

“Hello?” Mike answered quickly.

“Mike?” a voice asked. “Did I wake you?”

“Hey Greg.” Said Mike. “No, I was unpacking groceries.”

Mike slapped his head with a free hand knowing that he should have checked the caller ID and let the machine get it. He didn’t normally do that but sometimes he just didn’t want to talk to his publisher this close to a deadline.

“I was just calling to see how you were doing,” Greg stated.

Mike paused as the last several days began to flood back into his mind and stopped with the image of his wife walking out the front door.

“Well…I’ve had better days.” He declared.

“Haven’t we all,” Greg joked. “But I am real sorry to hear about you and Pam.”

“These things happen, right?” Mike shot as he bit his lip to keep from saying something rude.
“Yeah, they do.” Greg replied as the conversation fell in to a dead silent pause.
“Well, I appreciate the call, Greg.”

“Oh yeah before I forget, how’s the story coming?”

“It’s going good.” Mike lied. He was down to three weeks and the story was halfway complete. Mike hated deadlines, especially now.

“That’s great!” Greg said. “I was worried that with Pam leaving, you might run into some trouble.”

“Nope,” began Mike. “Things are good.”

“Ok, I’ll pass that information along and let me know if you need anything.”

“Ok Greg. Thanks again for calling.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Greg said promptly. “Later.”

“Bye,” Mike said slowly hanging up the phone.

This was not good, thought Mike. Three weeks from deadline and him with writer’s block the size of the Great Wall of China. Mike grabbed a handful of his shoulder length brown hair with both hands, as though he were going to pull it out, and fell onto the couch. He knew that this was probably going to be the end of his already short writing career. He would have been able to finish the book if Pam hadn’t left him. At least that’s what he told himself each time he sat down to write and could only stare at the blank pages.

“What am I doing Teddy?” Mike asked as Teddy walked over looking for some attention.

“I’ve had tough times before, so why should this be any different?”

Mike started thinking of the difficult times that he had overcome in his life. Like the time his father left him in the drunk tank at the local jail when he was arrested for public intoxication. He thought again and struggled to think of anything worthy of the title “hardship” but nothing else surfaced. Is it possible, Mike thought, that he hadn’t really suffered as many other people had?

“Well, I still have you, Teddy.” declared Mike, as he rubbed Teddy’s head and then set him down.

Teddy looked up at Mike while he stood up and maneuvered through the boxes to his desk. Pulling out the chair he picked up his pad and pushed the wads of paper off the desk in an attempt to hit the garbage can. They fell toward the garbage can like a barrage of snowballs. The majority of paper wads hit the floor as Mike returned to the pad of paper.

The revolver was placed into Adam’s face as he returned to his feet. His heartbeat quickened while he heard the cylinder rotate and click. The hammer was pulled back, seating the round into its firing position. Adam froze…

Mike stopped writing when he felt a furry tail tickle his bare leg as Teddy walked under his chair. He looked down to see Teddy looking up at him meowing. Taking a deep breath, he strongly exhaled in frustration.

“Teddy, I’m trying to write!” Mike barked. “Go play or lie down somewhere.”

Teddy quietly strolled out of sight behind some boxes as Mike smiled, shook his head and returned to the paper.

Adam froze as thoughts of how he would get out of this flooded his mind.

Suddenly there was a loud thud. Mike turned to see Teddy standing around an overturned box and hundreds of scattered papers. Teddy froze realizing that he was in trouble and bolted into the bedroom to take refuge under the bed.

“Oh come on!” Mike yelled as he leaped up. “I’m never going to get anything done.”

He knelt down and began picking up the papers that had been scattered. Among the old papers were tan folders that had a label on top of each one. He read one that said Alex, Ex-police dog. Curiously he looked through more and more titles like Kenny’s Adventure and Ashley’s Big Day. Each folder held a story that was dated more than twenty years ago. Mike had written many stories when he was younger but had forgotten all about them. Sitting down, Mike started to read over some of the stories. He sat for several hours laughing loudly and even had tears form in his hazel eyes during one that he wrote when his first dog Stevie died. Writing was so effortless when he was younger but now it had gotten so complicated. Back then he wrote for himself and didn’t have a deadline for anything. His imagination then seemed to be so monstrous and excitable. To be that age again with a simple life and an unwavering desire to write. Now it seemed that his desire had faltered and his muse had become lost in the complicated webs of his life. So many people today are lost in the web they call the Internet. When kids get home these days they log on to chat rooms, on-line dating and on-line games that allow them to socialize without leaving the house. Mike always thought that this was the problem with kids these days and that people were losing some of their humanity each time they plugged in. That is why Mike enjoyed writing so much because that is what he thought made him a little more human than this generation.

But like any profession one has to work in order to become more proficient. Besides, who said that being a writer was going to be easy?

Once the last folder was inside the box, Mike walked over to get a soda, passing the brown bag that seemed to whisper to him. Taking a soda from the refrigerator he turned and went to his desk, looking away from the bag this time. Sitting down, he opened the soda, took a sip and began writing. After thirty minutes of writing he realized that he couldn’t stop. He continued writing furiously as he replaced a full page with an empty page, stopping every ten minutes to rest his aching hand and sharpen his pencil. When Mike began to slow down he looked at the small stack of papers. He hadn’t been able to write like that for a long time. Collecting the papers he started looking over the barely legible scratches that were a result of his sudden inspiration. He suddenly felt a small spark of excitement as he looked over the multitude of papers.

The phone rang and Mike checked the caller ID. It was his soon-to-be ex-wife Pam. Setting the papers down Mike closed his eyes, sighed and picked up the phone.

“Hello.” He answered blankly.

“Mike? It’s Pam.” She said softly.

“Hey.”

“I was wondering if you’re free this evening so we could talk.”

Talk? What else could she possibly have to say? Perhaps she wanted to get back together to discuss the divorce or perhaps custody of Teddy. She probably wanted full custody and him with supervised visits, if Mike was lucky.

“Mike?” Pam asked. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah.” He jerked. “When did you want to meet?”

“An hour?”

“Ok. Where at?”

“How about Papa Joe’s?” Pam replied. “You used to like that place.”

“Fine.” Mike returned coldly. He could feel his face become hotter and redder by the second.

“I’ll see…” Mike cut her off as he hung up the phone. He didn’t like to hang up on people, that was reserved for telemarketers and now…Pam.

Sitting on the couch Mike felt tears begin to form in his eyes. He fought with everything he had to keep them at bay and succeeded only when his eyes caught sight of the brown bag. He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat and felt his will bend for a brief moment. One drink would be enough to calm his nerves and gather his strength for his meeting with Pam. First she took his writing, he thought, and now she created this temptation to finish off what was left of his life.

“No!” Mike screamed jumping up and kicking the nearest box. There was a loud crash mixed with the sound of broken glass.

Picture frames toppled onto the floor on top of each other. With his heart racing he leaped over the mess, ran into the bedroom to retrieve his wallet and keys, and marched out the front door just as Pam had done several days ago. Starting his car, Mike revved the engine of his Mazda MX8, shoved it into gear and created a large cloud of bluish white smoke along with a high pitched squeal. How could he have let her push him this far? For him to act so uncontrollable and reckless was far from who he really was.

Mike arrived at Papa Joe’s with fifteen minutes left before he was to meet Pam. Papa Joe’s was a little mom and pop pizza restaurant were they prided themselves on good food for your money, unlike many corporate restaurants. Papa Joe’s was a place that Mike was a regular customer. He had a special place at the bar that was reserved just for him if he ever called to reserve it. Many customers tried to become a regular but Papa Joe and Mama Maria didn’t make it easy. When Mike walked in he noticed that Pam was already there and had taken a seat in the back corner next to the restrooms. She did that because Mike would have taken a seat at the bar and she wouldn’t want to talk to him in front of everyone.

The smell of pizza and smoke hung in the air as he passed by the bar and through the smoking section. That never made much sense to Mike. Why should nonsmokers have to pass through the smoke filled area to get to the nonsmoking area? Blame it on poor building design. Pam’s blond hair was curled and fell to the left of her white nurses’ shirt. Her white skirt and white shoes completed her outfit. Her clothes caught the light and caused her to shine in the dimly lit room. As he approached the table he noticed that she wasn’t wearing her ring anymore…unlike Mike. He was struggling with the thought that they could work things out but she seemed to be ready to move on with her life. Maybe it was just to get his attention and make him understand how serious their problem is.

“Hi Mike.” Pam smiled.

“Hey.” Mike said nodding.

“You hungry?”

“Not really.” Mike slid into the booth seat and pressed his shoulder against the table and his seat.

Pam’s eyes dropped to her hand, which she quickly removed from the table. Mike shifted repeatedly, making squeaking sounds with the seat until he got comfortable. The silence filled the gap between them until Pam raised her head.

“I just wanted to talk to you about the divorce.”

“So…” he said grimly. “You mean to go through with it?”

“Yes, Mike,” She started. “And we need to decide about the house and the boat.”

“You can have them.” Mike said lowly.

“What?”

“I said you can have them!” his voiced raised a little.

Pam’s eyes darted to the nearby tables to see if anyone had heard. She hated for anyone to make a scene but really hated for a stranger to know her business.

“Do you have to talk so loud?” she asked uncomfortably.

Mike shot Pam a harsh look as he stretched his legs out in his seat.

“Mike I can’t believe you’re making a scene.”

“Yeah we wouldn’t want that would we?” Mike grunted.

“I thought you could act like an adult and talk about this but I was wrong.”

Pam started gathering her purse and coat but stopped in her tracks when the waitress walked up to take their order. Pam smiled as the waitress greeted them and told them the specials of the day. Their drink order was taken and she left them a pair of menus that were covered in Italian words and a picture of Mama Maria holding a plate of spaghetti with two meatballs.

“I hope your happy.” Shot Mike.

“Happy?” Pam questioned. “How could I be happy?”

“You left me and now I can’t finish the book before the deadline.” Mike confessed. “Why did you leave anyway?”

“You were never around.” She exclaimed quickly. “You were always writing.”

“No I wasn’t.”

“Mike I would go work a twelve hour shift at the hospital and you would be writing.” She sighed. “I would come home and you would be writing. For six months I never got to see you but maybe once or twice.”

“No.” Mike said defensively shaking his head. “I didn’t write that much.”

“Yes. Yes you did and I couldn’t keep living the same hollow life that my mother did.”

“You…” Mike stopped as he got out of his chair. “Take the house. Take it all.”

Mike turned almost knocking their waitress over as he made his way through the smoking section and out the door. Jumping into his car, he pulled out of the parking lot seeing Pam exit the restaurant in the rear view mirror. The next thirty minutes were a blur for Mike and he didn’t really remember the drive home. He exited the car realizing that there was only one way out of this. Mike thrust his key into the lock, turned it and violently opened the door, slamming it behind him. Once closed, he locked the door and threw his keys on the table next to the door.

Mike walked hastily into the kitchen, grabbing the brown bag and pulling out the fifth of Chivas Regal scotch that the bag was home to. He broke the seal and poured the glass half full. The smell caused his stomach to twist and lurch, as if it was telling him that this was a bad idea. Mike was unconcerned and wanted to ease the pain that consumed him. He took the drink and picked up the writing that he had done earlier as he headed for the couch. Sitting down, Mike evened the papers on his knee and began to read. He was curious to see how bad his frenzied writing was going to be.

Alex woke from his long afternoon nap and noticed that Timmy, the youngest in the family, was gone! Alex, you see is a police dog. Ex-police dog, since a month ago and he was adopted by the Hallbrook family. Life as a police dog was exciting and since then the excitement, that Alex loved, was gone. Gone, that is, until now. Timmy was missing and it was up to Alex to find him.

OK Alex, he said to himself, start looking over the crime scene for clues. He began looking and found one of Timmy’s socks. His first clue! Alex sniffed the sock to get Timmy’s scent, just like his father used to do when he was on the police force. Alex’s eyes became focused as he struggled to keep Timmy’s scent from being mixed up with all the other smells in the house.

He started reading faster and faster doing everything he could to keep from skipping to the end. He was in a state of disbelief. As he finished reading he looked around stunned at the creation that was unleashed by his childhood. That wasn’t that bad, he thought. A little polishing and it might even make a nice children’s book.

“That’s crazy,” he said suddenly. “Greg is expecting another action packed novel, like the first one.”

Teddy was at his feet rubbing against his legs, begging for some attention. Mike picked Teddy up and sat him in his lap, while stroking his fur. The idea of trying to pitch a children’s story to Valhalla books, a company built on action and fantasy, was insane. That type of sell would be hard to make happen, especially when you only had one book in publication and this was to be your second. Three weeks notice of a complete change in manuscript would look bad on his record. Teddy jumped from his lap, landed next to Mike’s glass and began to sniff it. Mike saw Teddy and pushed him away from it.

“That’s not yours, Teddy.” He said strongly.

He looked down at the glass of scotch and his mouth watered. One motion and it would all be over, all his pain would ease and life would make sense again. He could then begin writing again, finish his book and live happily ever after. Who was he trying to fool? Happy endings are for stories and rarely do you ever get a happy ending in real life.

Standing up quickly Mike threw the papers angrily and watched the papers do an acrobatic dance as they fell to the floor. Beautiful Mike thought as he lifted the glass to consume the scotch and stopped when he heard a knock at the door. With a puzzled look on his face, he walked over, unlocking the door and then opened it. Pam stood with a saddened face as her eyes fell on the glass of scotch.

“Starting back?”

Mike quickly placed the glass on the table next to the door and turned with a stone face. He didn’t owe her any explanation since it was her decision to leave but he didn’t like giving her ammunition to use against him.

“How did you find me?”

“Mama Maria. She’s worried about you, Mike.”

“Yeah, me too.” he turned and opened the door as if inviting Pam inside. She stepped inside, dodging the boxes, and took a seat on the couch. Teddy quickly realized that he had company and ran straight into her lap.

“Wow! He’s heavy. What do you feed him?” laughed Pam.

“Just regular cat food.” smiled Mike.

“Remember when he got stuck in the pantry?” asked Pam. “He made the worst noise ever.”

Mike smiled and nodded while he scratched Teddy’s head, making his leg shake. For a moment it seemed as though they were a family again. Time to confess to her, Mike thought. He started to open his mouth but was afraid he would ruin a perfectly good moment with more stupid words.

“Pam,” Mike began, “I…you know when I was always writing?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I wasn’t writing. Not one word, syllable or sentence.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What and have your father be right about me!? I told you so honey and what a dead beat. Besides I was hoping it would pass. I didn’t like the idea of you being the only source of income for us both.”

Pam’s eyes fell toward the floor where it caught sight of the mess Mike had made earlier. She bent down and picked up a picture frame. The broken glass was like a spider web that started in the right corner until it consumed the whole frame. It was Pam and Mike on their wedding day. He was giving Pam a kiss on the cheek with a cake covered face. Pam was laughing and appeared to be fighting him off.

“We had some good times, huh?” asked Mike.

Pam nodded unable to answer due to the lump forming in her throat.

“Well look Mike,” began Pam, “I don’t want everything so I will make arrangements to split everything, OK?”

Unable to voice a response, Mike nodded as Pam set the picture down and headed for the door. He quietly followed, sighing. Once outside, she turned and waved on the way to her car.

“Don’t worry Mike, things will get better.” she got in her car and in seconds she was speeding away.

The multicolor of the setting sun was like a mixed painting of the western horizon in an abstract red, orange and sky blue. He watched as the sun slowly crept behind the building complex that towered on the hill over the valley where his apartment building sat. Mike, standing in the doorway, picked up the scotch that he had placed on the table. The aroma wasn’t as strong due to the melted ice. He looked at Teddy, who had made his way to the door meowing, and smiled. Closing the door he held up the glass to Teddy as if the two were toasting, and consumed its contents. The sudden splash of scotch on his tongue caused a burning sensation in his mouth that caused eyes to water and his stomach to roll in anticipation. He closed his eyes and savored the taste as it made its way to his stomach. Mike opened his eyes and his focus fell on the bottle. His mouth didn’t water. Setting down the empty glass, his right hand plucked the ring off his other hand and set it on the table next to the glass.

“Things are getting better.” smiled Mike.


Imagine the future without Imagination.
Dalkin