There's a Road to Everywhere Except Where You Came From: A Memoir by Bryan Charles

Author:Bryan Charles [Charles, Bryan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, Personal Memoirs
ISBN: 9780802196149
Google: IU4GO1YRbvsC
Publisher: Grove/Atlantic, Inc.
Published: 2010-11-09T20:56:51+00:00

Is This a New Fear?

I stood on the concourse behind the PATH train escalators wearing headphones, watching as endless streams of humans were delivered into the mouth of the mall. I walked through the lobby and got in an elevator. I stopped at the cafeteria and bought a medium Starbucks, an everything bagel, and a bottle of Poland Spring water. In my cubicle I opened the cupboard, took down a jar of Skippy, spread peanut butter on the bagel, read the Daily News, and ate.

In the men’s room I sat on the high toilet in the last stall, awaiting release. For a moment the only sounds were the soothing rush of water in pipes and the occasional creak of the tower as it moved imperceptibly in the wind. Then I heard toilet paper being quickly unrolled, followed every few seconds by a flush. The noise was coming from two stalls away. It went on for several minutes. There was a violence to the action, as if the man doing it was in a hurry or upset. I stood and tucked my shirt in and exited the stall, slamming the door a little to see what would happen. Nothing did. I paused briefly after washing my hands to see if the person would cease these wild actions. He didn’t. He kept unrolling the toilet paper and flushing the toilet, unrolling and flushing, unrolling and flushing. I waited another few seconds and then left.

I walked through legal and circled around. I walked through sales and then back to marketing. Nancy stopped me and told me the new Sports Illustrated had arrived. I thanked her and took the magazine to my desk. I read it a while and then set it aside. I turned in my chair and unlocked my computer. I opened the document I’d been working on and highlighted a random block of text. I spread some papers around on the desk. I picked up the phone and dialed Samantha’s home number. The answering machine clicked on and I punched in her code. I listened again to the message. It was from a guy named Rene who had an accent of some kind. He addressed her as Sam and referred to his cellphone as the mo-bile. I hung up and sat there. All the little sounds in the office were amplified a thousandfold. Whelan walked by and saw me.

—Oh yes, he said.

The bar was on Avenue B just south of Fourteenth Street and had a special on Thursdays, three-dollar pints of Guinness. Baines was sitting at the bar talking on his cellphone when I arrived. I sat next to him and ordered a pint. The local news was playing with the sound down on the TV overhead. Baines finished the conversation and set down his phone.

—Sorry about that, he said.

—That’s okay. How’s the new crib?

—It’s an easier commute, I’ll tell you that.

I laughed. —Yeah I guess Greenpoint’s pretty far from Columbia.

—What about you? How’s the writing going?

—Good. You know I got my holiday bonus and took the plunge.

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