"Untitled" - Chapter 1

Chapter 1
          Nate grunted as he bent over and shoved the dripping hairs of his mop into the large bucket of water placed off to the side by the wall. The water was getting browner with every squeeze and the linoleum floor was no closer to shining than when he had started an hour ago. This was going to be a long day, but then everyday working in this hell hole was a long day.
         Dreaming of the clock showing five pm he paused swishing the mop over the floor as he overheard chatter coming from around the corner. A girl was laughing nervously in a hushed voice to someone, though he didn't hear any responses, so he assumed she was on the phone.
         "And he still has no idea. How could he? It didn't start till after he left...yea I know, but I don't want to do that over the phone, that's just cruel...hey, don't judge me, I didn't mean for this to happen the way it did."
         The girl walked around the corner, narrowly avoiding the "wet floor" sign, and held her cell phone up to her ear as she walked right by him as though he was part of the wall. He rolled his eyes to himself as he kept mopping the same spot that had been there since 1984.
         Checking the clock, Nate monitored how much longer he had the silent hallway to himself. The classroom doors that lined the hallways would burst open soon as students and professors made a run for it, trying to make it to the coffee stand before their next class started. He often wondered at the point of mopping during school hours, seeing as the floor would just become dirty all over again from a couple thousand people who had taken the "short cut" through the muddy grass outside. He felt like he had more common sense than his supervisor in that respect, but he wasn't willing to jeopardize his job or his hours by offering a more sensible way to mop floors.
         Standing up straight he stretched and felt the relief of his back cracking. His eyes drifted over to the wall on his left and he looked at his reflection in the case that held notifications of college lead activities. The board behind the glass was a psychedelic rainbow of different flyers announcing offers for tutors, after school clubs, and advertising the university's after school activities, each competing with the others to earn even a momentary glance from a student who wasn't absorbed in their own life or running late through the halls. The reflection of his face was interrupted by a bright pink paper announcing that a particular sorority on campus was holding a "BYOP" for freshman rushers. Whatever the hell that meant.
          Shifting his focus, he saw the reflection of the person most people didn't mingle with. He was young in age, early twenties, but the beard he was not-so-successfully growing out added thirty plus years to his appearance. Standing at six feet he was average height in the baggy denim overalls that were his uniform. Nate never worked out but was on his feet for most of the day scrubbing the same hallways, classrooms, and bathrooms that made up Alaby University, so he sported a heavy build that was disproportional to his slender legs.
         The University was the only pride and joy the small town of Albany, Oregon had to boast about. With an acceptance rate of eighty-five percent, just about anybody who applied was welcome to come study; or find a job as was the case with Nate. He was "lucky" the janitor position didn't require a degree, or even a diploma, just a vague amount of common sense.
         Surrounded by tall Western larch trees, Ponderosa Pines, Douglas Firs, and Oregon Ash the university buildings were octopus like, connected by bridges that crisscrossed above manicured walkways, its own little world built on several acres of clean, green property. Being known for its unpredictable weather, clouds had a habit of raining down for a few minutes before disappearing, then showing up yet again towards the end of the day.
         His job, unlike the rain, was as monotonous as life could get. Starting work at the University meant that he was getting out of the house, and giving Jasmine some much needed space, but also meant that he was a slave to those who he used to look down upon himself. Nate had spent his entire life in this small, suburban town. The kind where nobody leaves unless they are talented enough to work the system in their favor. According to his mother, he had never had that kind of talent, or any talents in general.
         Nate's phone suddenly started going off in his pocket. Vaguely aware of his line of thinking he was only half-surprised to see his mother's name identified on the caller ID. He waited for it to stop ringing and for the call to be considered "missed" as he consciously checked his breathing. Hyperventilating and passing out on the job was the only thing that could make his day worse. His mother, a woman who drank when she wasn't working and spent more time traveling and hosting charity and work events rather than raising her own son, was too obsessed with her public/social image and didn't seem to realize she had the emotional intelligence of a child. He suspected the call was a butt-dial, as he hadn't talked to her in months. His choice to walk out of that house and not return shocked his best friend Zack, and parents at the time, but they were appeased by his promise to attend one of the seemingly thousands of dinner parties his parents held during the year, if only to keep his parents at arms-length. Their insults, thinly veiled as small talk, still rang in his ears to this day. Zack had trouble comprehending anything less than the strong relationship he had with his parents, at least until Nate dragged him along to one of their events. The conversation completely revolved around Zack, which colleges he'd been applying to and what his goals were for the future. A future, according to his parent's passive aggressive comments, they respected a lot more than Nate's.
         He remembered staring silently out the window while riding shotgun in Zack's car on their way back to his house after that dinner; watching the trees pass by as he used all his control and will power not to cry. It was clear that Zack had been surprised about his parents, he didn't expect to be given the third degree on his future or praise based on his college choices; and he certainly didn't expect to witness so much backlash from Nate's parents. It had been the first time Nate had invited him over, and now he understood why. Pulling his car into the driveway and turning off the engine, both Nate and Zack had just sat there for a minute before Zack finally spoke.
         "Ya know, man, you really didn't deserve that. Your parents are totally wrong about you. I hope you know that."
         Nate had just looked over at him and gave a sad smile. If anything, he was relieved that someone finally saw what he did. Zack gave him a spare key to his house that night and told him, "What's mine is yours."
         By the time the clock struck four forty-five Nate had weaved his way through several more hallways with the cleaning supplies and made his way back to the storage closet that was the closest thing to an "office" he had. Doing some practiced acrobatics, he maneuvered in between a group of dry mops and other tools that were laying slanted against the wall, looking like they were about to fall and clatter all over the floor. Placing his supplies back in their designated positions amid the dust bunnies he stepped out of the room and locked the door behind him, slipping the keys into the front right pocket of his overalls. Making his way outside he waited at the bus stop for the two-seventeen that would take him a block away from Jasmine's and his apartment. It was about a fifteen-minute journey and Jasmine got off at four thirty, so she should beat him to the house. He lingered a few feet away from several girls, who had to be students, going out for the night. They were dressed up in short dresses and were huddled together triple checking their makeup on each other's pocket mirrors. Looking down at his phone and debating on listening to the one new voicemail he heard the bus arriving before he saw it, but he looked up in time to witness it pull over to the sidewalk a bit fast and run through a puddle that sprayed water all over the three girls. He didn't have much time to think and he reacted by guffawing out loud as the three of them looked down at their soaked fronts with disgust. Hearing his laugh, one of them glanced up and threw him a death look that could kill. He avoided her gaze like a kicked puppy as he climbed up the two steps to the bus and showed his bus pass to the driver.
         "Hey Nate, how's it going?"
         "It's alright Carl, how about you?"
         "Ya know, same old same old."
         Choosing one of the four seats that made up the back row of the bus, Nate plopped down and slipped his phone back out of his pocket. He gave himself a minute to take a deep breath as the bus pulled away from the curb before pressing play on his voicemail and bringing the phone up to his ear. He was braced and preparing himself for what the message could possibly say, his memory going back to the times when he still lived with them and was greeted with good old fashioned neglect first thing in the morning if his mother was on the phone or busy speaking to his father, or perhaps treated to toned down insults disguised as "loving advice" if she had a free moment to acknowledge his presence. Hearing his mother's voice still sent shivers down his back. Nate's father was certainly no help when it became time to stand up for himself or his son. Being extremely non-confrontational, he mostly just sat there with the newspaper covering his face and acted like Nate wasn't getting yelled at for no apparent reason. His usual response was a dry "Yes, dear" or a "Listen to your mother" whenever Nate's mother attempted to bring him into the conversation to back her statement up.
         You have one new voicemail left at three forty-two pm. Beep. Hi honey, it's mom. I hope things are going well with you. I'm just calling to confirm you're coming to the dinner party tomorrow night. You can even bring Jasmine if you want. Let me know.
         Removing the phone from his ear, Nate got to the text thread under his mother's name and texted back "CONFIRMED". He shoved his phone back into his pocket as he leaned his head back against the scratchy polyester blend fabric of the chair and closed his eyes, trying not to break down into a puddle of tears. He hated that his parents still had such an effect on him, despite continually working to believe he wasn't as hopeless a person as they routinely said he was.