I was in another pointless staff meeting. I’m pretty sure they only hold those things to inflate their sense of self importance. Next to none of the information ever helped us do our jobs. Okay, maybe some of it did. I might just be projecting my dislike of the people holding the meetings onto the meetings themselves.
“This week our top departments were cosmetics, up 30% from last year, electronics, up 23%, and housewares with 19%. Pretty measly growth if you ask me. Honestly, you all just need to put some effort in for once.” Yeah, it wasn’t the meetings, I just hated Seymour. The way he deflected all responsibility for his store and its performance onto us put me in a knot. “And you!” He pointed at me and I was nearly grazed by some of the spittle that came out of his mouth. “Your customer service is terrible, I just had to say it.” Nice of him to let the other twelve employees at the meeting know that right? I couldn’t breathe, there was something seizing in my guts, and gravity was starting to invert, but in spite of it all I was ready to stand up for myself. I opened my mouth, comeback locked and loaded, then I felt them. Covering my ears, my eyes, and my mouth. Six hands from behind obscuring my sentences.
I can’t tell you what else Seymour had to say about me in that meeting, or how the other employees reacted. All I can tell you is that by the time the hands let go I was the only one left standing there. The meeting was over, my shame fulfilled, and it was time to get on with the thing I was apparently terrible at. I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t taken everything out of me and I’d be lying if I said I put any effort into the rest of my shift. The drive home after was one of those where you get in the car, the car starts moving, you blink, and you’re home.
Home was a mess, and I told myself that “Today I’ve really got to do something about all the clutter.”, but then I got in the door, Jensen and his hands finally got off of my back, and I fell asleep on the floor. There was something about the sudden relief of his burden disappearing that had made the fall irresistible. Speaking of burdens, I forgot to tell you about Jensen didn’t I?
He’s a stubby mound of flesh with six arms, six hands, and way too many eyes. He’s always on my back when I leave the house, which is absolutely exhausting, and any time that he sees I’m in trouble he makes a point of covering my eyes, ears, and mouth. He’s absolutely crippling. Did I also forget to mention that he’s my oldest friend? See, Jensen wasn’t always so heavy. The two of us grew up together and at first I wouldn’t have known he was even on my back if it wasn’t for his obstruction habit. Even that was something that I used to like. I don’t really want to get into it, but I’ll just say that he kept me from a lot of stuff I didn’t need in my life and leave it at that. You’d think that at some point that stuff would have noticed that Jensen was in their way and gotten rid of him, but people seem to have a tendency of not seeing Jensen. I’m apparently the only one who can, so through all the screaming and verbal abuse I’d just barely hear, Jensen would protect me and I’d just look super calm and composed. “Your son is so mature for his age.” Is something I remember my parents’ friends saying a lot. Was that supposed to be a compliment? Do parents really think children ought to be stationary little things who only see, hear, and speak when it’s convenient for them? I ask myself about that a lot, but it isn’t why I’m writing this. I’m writing this because of what happened with Jensen and Seymour the day after that staff meeting.
I woke up that morning in a pile of my own saliva and with a tender soreness that almost guaranteed I’d have a nasty bruise on my face. A look in the mirror confirmed the bruise and a look at my cracked watch confirmed that I was already 10 minutes late for work. Luckily for me I was already dressed, so all I had to do was get in the car and go. I left in a hurry, but not so quickly that Jensen couldn’t catch a ride on the way out. He jumped on my back as always and the nerves in it screamed at me for letting him. As for how the commute went, let’s just say that I’m glad we didn’t drive past any cops.
My demeanor was explicitly downcast when I went speedwalking through the front door of the department store. Maybe he won’t notice? I thought to myself as I scurried for the time clock in the back. Maybe he’s out today?
“There you are! I honestly can’t believe you have the nerve to show up this late, and with a bruise like that too! Cover it up, you’re making the store look bad. You’ll be lucky if I don’t fire you for this.” Seymour really liked to talk.
“Sir, I’m really sorry for being late. It’s just that I think I may have fallen and hit my head last night and I might have a-”
“Shut up! Do you know what the problem with your generation is? Nobody ever told you people to get the fuck over it!”
I don’t remember what I was going to say in response to that, but I know I was going to say something. I didn’t get the chance though, because then there were those hands and I was sure I’d just have to stand there until Seymour left and Jensen let go. This time however, there were only five hands on me. One of my ears was left uncovered and through it I could hear screaming. There was only one person it could have been and when I opened my eyes I saw. Seymour was lying on the floor, bleeding out, with one of my kitchen knives in his neck.
I’m back at my apartment now. I’ve been here since it happened, waiting for a knock on my door. I don’t know what I’m going to tell the police. Nobody’s ever been able to see Jensen but me, and that knife has my fingerprints all over it. What do you think I should do?