I’m nervous. When I’m nervous, everything happens in broken fragments of time. I look at something, it freezes, I blink, and that something changes. It happens over two moments, with nothing in between, no motion, no blurring, no nothing. Imagine living in a music video—back when there was such a thing as music videos. That’s how I feel now.

I finish my third cup of coffee and realize night arrived. I wonder when it snuck in. I study the door for the third time in the last minute. It remains closed. I stand up, pushing the wooden chair behind me, and walk around the desk, taking a long drag from my cigarette. I face the door and will it to open to get this over with. The door stays shut.

I’ve been waiting since early afternoon. Covering the table are empty coffee cups and piles of paper. On a normal day, I would have cleared my desk by this time, finishing the work for the day. This is not a normal day. I rearrange the piles, trying to make it look like I’m busy but organized. I scatter a few paperclips around the desk. I decide against the paperclips and start picking them up.

I hear the handle turn and the door opens. I drop the paperclips. Mr. Jenkins stands there. He is a tall man and he makes the doorframe seem too small, like my office is undersized. He walks as he talks, with measured steps, mechanically placing his heel then foot then toe on the ground, one foot at a time in a perfect cadence. His three-piece suit is creaseless as if sitting all day had no effect on him. The knot in his canary blue tie would make department store manikins jealous. He wears glasses and hunches forward, like he’s about to tell you a secret.

“Did I catch you at a bad time, Fred?” Mr. Jenkins says.

“No, not at all, Mr. Jenkins. I’ve been expecting you, Please, do come in.”

Mr. Jenkins walks into the office, closes the door, and takes the chair behind the desk. He gestures toward my visitor’s chair, and I sit.

“I hope I didn’t keep you too long,” Mr. Jenkins says. “I’ve been conducting these reviews all afternoon.”

“I understand, Mr. Jenkins. I imagine it can be quite draining.” I take a nervous drag from my cigarette and when I realize what I did, I hold the smoke in my chest. When my lungs start to burn, I turn my head and breathe the smoke toward the closed door. I mush the cigarette into the ashtray. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jenkins. I smoke when I get nervous.” Smoke leaks from my mouth.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about, Fred. I perform these reviews as a courtesy to the employees of Jenkins Inc. I’m not here to judge you, Fred. I want to communicate exactly where you stand with Jenkins Inc. While these reviews take up a lot of my time, Fred, I feel they are worth it for the morale and productivity here at Jenkins Inc.

“Take Esther, for instance. I met with her this afternoon and let her know that Jenkins Inc. has no more need of her services. She did an adequate job, Fred, but she wasn’t the right fit for Jenkins Inc. I run a family business and I like to think that I treat my employees as family. A family always has that rebellious teenage who tries to muck up the workings, Fred. Esther turned out to be Jenkins Inc.’s rebellious teenager. Do you get what I’m saying, Fred?”

I try not to let shock show on my face. Esther is—had been an account manager with Jenkins Inc. for the past twenty-five years. She is a small, sad woman who let her life get away from her. Three weeks ago, she finalized her messy divorce. Throughout the entire process, she never missed a day of work or fell behind with any of her accounts. I didn’t think Mr. Jenkins even knew about Esther’s divorce.

“Yes, Mr. Jenkins. I know you run a tight ship.”

“You look like you don’t approve of my decision, Fred. This meeting is for you. Please, Fred, if you don’t agree with my decision, I do want to hear of it. I know you have your ear to the grindstone here at the office. I respect your opinion, Fred, and would like to know your thoughts on the matter.”

I swallow hard and try to look away, but Mr. Jenkins is leaning toward me, holding my gaze. His head nods faintly. “You of course did the right thing, Mr. Jenkins. You did what you always do: what’s best for Jenkins Inc. It’s just that Esther’s been going through a rough spot lately, with her family pr….” I stop when Mr. Jenkins leans back in my chair.

“Do go on, Fred. As I said, I respect your opinion on matters dealing with Jenkins Inc. You’ve been a good worker for the past five years, Fred. I hate seeing you hung out with the wrong crowd.”

I clear my throat and begin to breathe shallowly. I squeeze the cigarette pack in my pants pocket, desperate to light one. “Her family problems shouldn’t have interfered with her work, Mr. Jenkins. I see that. You were of course right in what you did, as I said before.” I use my fingers to count the cigarettes remaining in the pack. Nine left.

“You were talking about a rough spot, Fred. I believe it had something to do with her family. Please, do continue.”

I look frantically at the door, hoping for an interruption, but as before, the door doesn’t move. Thoughts fly through my head, but I can’t get a handle on them. Even though I know the gravity of the situation, my mind refuses to focus on ways of saving the conversation. If I could get a few minutes alone and take a drag of a cigarette, I’m sure I could figure this out.

“It’s like you said,” I say. “Esther was like the rebellious teenager. It was the only thing to do, what you did, that is, Mr. Jenkins.”

“Firing her, Fred?” Mr. Jenkins smiles and forms a teepee with his fingers, his touching thumbs rotate in small circles. “Do you know Esther’s numbers for the last quarter, Fred?”

“No, Mr. Jenkins. I could look them up for you.”

“That won’t be necessary, Fred. As president of Jenkins Inc., I make it my business to know everyone’s numbers, including yours, Fred. Esther’s numbers were up three point two percent this quarter, making her the highest grossing account manager at Jenkins Inc. Now, I’m sure you know your own numbers, Fred. What were they again?”

“I’m down two point four percent for the quarter, Mr. Jenkins. But my numbers are up for the year.”

Mr. Jenkins’s eyebrows raise and his head leans toward me. “And what percentage are you up for the year, Fred?”

I blink. “Point four percent.”

“Point four percent. Do you really think Jenkins Inc. considers point four percent as being up, Fred? But let’s leave that alone for a moment. I want to return to Esther. You do know I don’t approve of adultery?”

“No, I mean yes, Mr. Jenkins. I know you don’t approve of adultery.” I wonder where he’s going with this. Esther didn’t get a divorce because of adultery. If anything, her husband cheated on her.

“And do you approve of adultery, Fred?”

“No, Mr. Jenkins.”

“Come now, Fred. Clearly you must have a stronger opinion on this.”

“Yes, Mr. Jenkins. Adultery is a sin, and it’s bad for the family.”

Mr. Jenkins leans forward and slaps his knee. “That’s right, my boy. And what’s bad for the family is bad for the business. That’s why I always liked you, Fred. You have a keen eye for business, and I’ve always respected that about you.” I try to smile but I can’t lift my lips. While my heart still pounds in my ear, relief floods me.

“That’s why I’m going to hate to see you go, Fred.”

Life as I know it stops. I blink and shake my head, trying to figure out if I heard Mr. Jenkins right. “Excuse me, Mr. Jenkins?”

“Fred, I consider Jenkins Inc. and its employees to be my second family. I treat them well and all I expect is for them to treat Jenkins Inc. well in return. What you did with Esther is inexcusable, Fred.”

“But Mr. Jenkins, I didn’t do anything with Esther. Sure, we spoke a few times about her divorce, but I was trying to empathize. I tried to help her through a rough spot, but we didn’t talk that much and only during breaks or after work. I didn’t approve of what she did, but I tried to help her out of my respect for her as a colleague.”

“Fred, Fred, Fred. Over the five years you’ve been here, I felt you were becoming part of the Jenkins Inc. family. But that stopped with this incident. I’m surprised you didn’t think I’d hear of it.”

Confusion roars through my mind. “Hear of what, Mr. Jenkins?”

“Your affair with Esther, Fred.”

“She’s old enough to be my mother, Mr. Jenkins. I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot….” I stop before I finish the statement. Esther is not what anyone in the office would consider good looking. Twenty years ago, she might have been, but now she was an old lady. I couldn’t blame her husband for leaving her; I’m not sure I could live with something like that when I get older. To think that I slept with Esther: it was a ridiculous thought.

“Come now, Fred. Esther told me all about it. The evening rendezvous. The late hours. The shoulder you offered her and the warm bed. She did what was right for Jenkins Inc. when I confronted her, Fred. She came clean and told me the truth. She cares about this business more than you will ever under. . . .”

“She lied,” I say, interrupting Mr. Jenkins. “Whatever she told you was a lie. I swear to you, as I stand here today, I have never slept with or been intimate with Esther Rochester. She was a colleague, Mr. Jenkins, nothing more.”

“It’s too late, Fred. What is done is done and you must now accept the consequences. Don’t make it worse by falsely swearing. Clean up your stuff. I want you gone today, Fred. I’ll pay you up through the end of the month.”

“I don’t understand.”

“As a condition of her continued employment, Esther promised me she’d have no more contact with you, Fred. To think, you took advantage of a married woman. Jenkins Inc. does not condone that type of behavior. Good day to you, Fred.”

***

That story got a bit away from me. (I’m trying to keep my commentary short—just an experiment.)

Story idea: continue with Herbert and the Bank; include a showing of power arrangements between Tom -> Lee -> Herbert -> loan officer -> bank officer -> mother of bank officer; tie all the relationships together at the end (good luck with that).