Simply Put

Simply Put

          Jane couldn’t bring herself to even park the car. She was afraid in a way that made no sense even to her. This fear, this “anxiety”, had stopped her from doing even simple activities in the past.
         As she slowed her Saturn to around 15 mph with every ounce of willpower she could muster, she could feel the tingle take over. Maybe it was the building or the shape of the parking lot. Maybe it was some fancy problem with her head. Whatever the problem, the opportunity, the potential event, disappeared in her rear-view mirror as she bumped out of sight of the industrial building on the poorly paved roads on the west end, the blue-collar manufacturing side of her small town.
         The tingle in her hands and head, and the throbbing pulse remained. Rationalizations started to flood in, to fill the gap left inside her. Well, I was just scoping out the place. I could come back tomorrow. Maybe I should work on my resume. I’m not looking my best right now anyway. I bet it’s some kind of ‘old boys club’ in there anyway.
         Greasy gas stations and machining shops whizzed by on either side as she headed down the avenue. The geared-up job-seeking part of her mind confused her by glancing around each of the storefronts for “Help Wanted” signs. She felt both eager and wilted at the same time.
         After digging feverishly through the pile of assorted belongings in her passenger seat, she lit a consoling cigarette. She’d lived in this town her whole life and usually worried about being spotted sucking ash by a relative or old doting school teacher, but this part of town was pretty industrial. Everybody seemed to be driving trucks that didn’t mind all the potholes. Nobody over here cared if she smoked.
         The tingling had ebbed by the time she realized she was driving 30 in a 45 and had twice waited for the light to turn green when she was about to make a right turn. Snapping into paranoid awareness as a cop drove by; she snuffed the butt and recognized the street she was on. She was driving toward the house she’d lived in as a child.
         Jane was a lucky kid. She lived in a nice house with a yard and a dog. Her family stayed together. She really couldn’t complain about her upbringing. Swerving around a garbage can that had rolled into the road, she recommitted herself to really parking the car this time in that gravely, wired-off industrial parking lot; the next step on a path to employment and success. After that I’ll just walk in there cool as can be and say, ‘read yer want ad'. 'Got experience with this sort of thing'. 'You’d be dumb not to hire me’.
         It was true. She had experience, work ethic and was perfect for the particular position. She had nothing really to worry about. Even if I don’t get this job I have to try. The surge of urgency had her tracking a route back to the parking lot in her mind, but by now the long rural blocks made for a big loop and it wouldn’t be bad to swing by the old house, maybe stop for gas; settle her nerves a bit.
         A sign reading “bus stop” reminded her that she was now driving along the bus route she’d taken every day to school. The sleepy morning memories made her wish some big yellow bus would just show up and take her to her new job. Maybe that manager was right. Maybe I’m no good at thinking for myself.
         The road was wet and the autumn leaves along the curb reminded her of the time when her mom drove over an oddly shaped branch buried in a freshly raked pile of leaves. A piece of the branch had popped up and smacked the window she was starring out of on the way to the dentist. The brakes squealed, her mother screamed, her heart jumped.
         Jane found herself sitting at a green light, digging around again for the pack of cigarettes she’d tossed back into the passenger-seat pile too soon. An SUV approached rapidly from behind and the Saturn’s tires squealed as she turned left quickly, not sure where she was going; more worried about slowing someone else down. Driving down those country roads she saw a hundred signs, not all for roadside stands anymore. Computer repair, craft shops, a service that converted vhs tapes to DVDs, everybody seemed to have their own business. She couldn’t even bring herself to walk into one.
         Passing some tired looking horses she wondered again how she’d succeeded in getting jobs earlier in her life. At twenty-five she’d been more or less gainfully employed for seven years…
         This time the brakes didn’t squeal. A sign suggesting a speed of 35 around the turn knocked off the passenger-side mirror. Her mother wasn’t there. There was no reason Jane should be either. It made no sense, even to her, that she’d driven straight off the road. Her heart jumped as the car sped toward an old deserted barn. The barn was so old that it had a cobblestone foundation that met the 60 mile an hour Saturn without yielding an inch. She was tingling again and her pulse matched her speed as her whole world convulsed with the impact. The pile of belongings in the passenger seat was all over her and covered with blood when a middle aged woman, in an apron and with a weather-hardened face, trotted up to the driver’s side window and starred at the dying, negligent, terrified face with a mixture of concern and disbelief.
         Jane’s timid, trembling eyes squeezed closed, closing out the world for the last time and she overheard the woman mumble under her breath,
“Gotta be the stupidest fucking person in the world, there’s a fucking sign.”

If you prefer a happy resolution, Jane’s eyes burst open to see that she’s finally parked her car, her resume is in her hand and she steps out of the car. Though her pulse still pounds, she walks with faux confidence into the building to apply for her job. Simply put, everything is okay.