"Scent of Mahogany, Part 2"
******rough draft*****
Note: This is in 2 parts due to max char lengths in blog posting.
December 11, Sunday 4:29pm
Brian Saetia was not your typical 38 year old man. Unmarried, childless, and practically homeless, Brian's life seemed to fit perfectly into Webster's definition of 'meaningless.' Brian didn't see it that way at all. In his own mind, he was one of the few people in this materialistic society that was free- totally and completely. With no restaints, he wandered where and when he pleased, careful never to stay in one spot for too long lest the slavedriver of routine found him. Gripping the steering wheel of his 1982 Ford Pinto, he smiled. Life was good.
A curious rattle escaped from under the hood yet again, bringing Brian out of his trance. Every time he heard it, it sounded less and less healthy. Caressing the dashboard, he tried to coerce his failing vehicle back to health. He needed to get it checked out, and fast. He had the engine tuned just last Friday. Mechanics were thieves, but necessary, as far as Brian was concerned. Looking at exit signs along the interstate, one screamed out to him: "Ruchstown: 10m" 'My old town! It's been years!' he thought to himself, excited to see his old neighborhood.
Entering town, he realized not much had changed. Other than a new Walmart, the town looked just as plain and boring as he'd left it. The soft rattle under the hood quickly became a violent rattle. 'Better find a mechanic.' he thought. Rounding a bend, the glowing beacon that marked '7-11' lit up the sky. Gas stations were the nations best source for directions, so he headed in that direction.
Bells chiming to announce his entry, Brian grabbed a Coke and headed to the checkout. The small shoppette was empty save himself, the clerk, and a painfully familiar woman. Holding a small shopping basket, she browsed the meager supply. Her face gave Brian the most overwhelming sense of deja-vu. The clouds parted as something clicked in his brain.
"Rachel?" he asked timidly, hoping he hadn't made an embarassing mistake.
She turned toward him, eyebrows raised. "Yes?"
"It's me, Brian! Junior High... math ****.. remember?" he asked with an expectant smile. She looked puzzled for a moment, and then recognition bloomed on here face. She squeeled in delight, wrapping her slender arms around his neck.
"Brian! It's been years! Clauser's Diner is still open across the street. I'll buy you a cup of coffee?" her smile was radiant.
In the depths of her purse, Rachel's cell phone battery died.
December 9, Friday 3:41pm
Jim was getting tired of being under the hood of this 1982 Pinto. He had been working at this car care center for 4 years now, and he never got used to some of the scrap metal that rolled in.
"This guy wants his car tip-top, he's goin' on a road trip," Craig had said, handing over the keys. "He needs it back by early evening. Now get to it!"
Jim glanced at his greasy **** 3:41pm. His doctor's appointment was at 4:00. 'This would have to do for "Brian."' Needs to junk this piece anyways.' he thought, closing the hood. Caughing a ball of phlem, he forgot about the Pinto and hoped the doctor would give him decent medication for this flu.
"Later, Craig. Pinto's good to go. Gotta catch this appointment, see you Monday." Jim said, tossing the keys to his boss. Strolling out the door, he whistled to himself.
End Note: We, along with every living organism in existance, are completely helpless victims of circumstance. Our lives are governed by seemingly insignificant triggers of cause and effect. Sometimes nothing comes of these triggers, but sometimes we unknowingly create an avalanche that will inadvertantly alter the course of someone else's life completely. Arrogant, self centered, foolish people, we continue to ignore this obvious and simple fact: Fate and Circumstance are completely synonomous. If Jim never came down with the flu, he would have properly tuned Brian's car. Brian never would have needed to stop in that town to find a mechanic, so his meeting with Rachel would have never happened. Rachel would have arrived home right on time, and still be married to Bob. Bob would not have shown up to work late or looked unpresentable, and would still be employed at LuciTech. Scott, Emily, and all of Bob's victims would still be alive. Tom wouldn't be awake at 3:04am, and the smell of a casket wouldn't be in his nostrails. Tread lightly, you don't know what your next action might trigger...