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Neighbourhood WatchThis story may contain adult content. |
| Written by Ross Cornes | |
| Monday, 24 March 2008 | |
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Share it:      Sitting there, at the computer, I thought yet again to myself that Daniel was a small, fat joke of a man. When he got promoted, he insisted upon giving me a lift to work every morning, it wasn’t good enough that we were next door neighbours, no he absolutely ******* insisted that we spend another hour a day together sitting in the car filling in the monotonous silence with idle gossip from the factory. I only ever pretended to care; I didn’t give a **** about the place, not since he got promoted ahead of me two years ago. I could hear my wife Rachel rummaging through something in the next room, I heard the rustling of paper and the shutting of boxes. God, those walls were so damned thin, I shuddered to think of how many guests had heard one of our many arguments, and these were usually about Daniel. Listening to her in the next room, opening drawers and slamming them shut a few seconds later, I remembered one of our arguments, this had been two years ago, just after the promotion. “When did he say this?” she asked, “Richard, when did he tell you?” I turned away and walked to the window, I could see into his garden from here. He was down there preparing a barbeque; his wife Denise was mowing the grass whilst their two kids were kicking a football around. I held my hand up to the window and angled it so I could see Daniel between my thumb and forefinger, I slowly pinched them together imaging him being squashed in-between them like a helpless bug. I turned back to face Rachel and noticed how tired she had started to look. “Does it matter?” I said, “All I know now is I have what I need to take him down.” Rachel shrugged and started pacing around the room “No, no, no. Denise is my friend. What would this do to her?” I started to say something but she stopped me. “And the kids, you can’t say he’s a bad father. They don’t deserve that.” “But it’s my chance for revenge, he’s bound to lose concentration at work and get sacked, I owe it to myself to tell her.” “Oh, that’s nice! Think about yourself why don’t you?” She stopped pacing and turned to face me. “When did he tell you?” “Thursday.” I said, wondering why she was asking. “Thursday,” she repeated “it’s Sunday now. Is that why you’ve not slept all weekend?” She was right, I’d not slept, I was too busy planning how I could expose him. “Richard, what are you planning to do?” “I don’t know. I have to do something though.” “Why?” She snapped. “You’ve become so deluded since he got promoted. Have you ever thought that he got the job because he was a stronger applicant than you?” I felt myself getting angry. “Don’t change the subject.” “It’s true though, you’ve been a nightmare since then.” “Stop it!” “And what about when Denise turns up crying, looking for a shoulder to cry on, are you going to stand there and tell her it’s okay? It’s okay because you’ve got the promotion finally and you’ve used her misery to get it?” “I SAID STOP IT!” I shook with anger and slapped her across the face with the back of my hand. She staggered backwards, stemming the flow of blood with her blouse. She looked somehow beautiful and in that moment I wanted to protect her but I could see something in her face that I’d never seen before. It was fear. The slap brought me back to reality, she had been right of course; I had been a monster since Daniel got the job. As an apology to Rachel I agreed to not tell Denise about the affair and for almost two years I totally forgot about it, but I refused to forget about the promotion.
Today had been another mundane drive into work and I was talking mindlessly, filling the silence with useless numbers from work, sales and wage figures for the most part. Daniel was quiet for once. “So,” I said, “you just need to approve these wage figures when we get in.” I smiled smugly to myself; he was going to get into so much trouble for overspending at the weekend. No answer. “What’s up?” “It’s over, Richard,” he said, “I can’t go on with it.” Confused I asked, “What are you talking about?” It wasn’t that bad, if he re-structured overtime next week he’d talk himself out of trouble. “Me and Sarah,” he paused to change gear and nearly stalled, “it’s over, her dad knows.” “Sarah?” I was confused, “Sarah Tobin?” “Yeah.” “Our boss’s daughter,” I started, “was who you were cheating with?” “Yeah,” he said, looking pitiful. “You bastard!” I saw it all now, she was the factory’s personnel manager and she had the final say on vacancies and promotions. “You ******* bastard! Is that how you got this job?” He looked away and pulled the car over. “N-N-No,” he said, I could see that he was scared, “It wasn’t like that.” “You got into her knickers and voila, you get promoted?” I could feel my palms sweat. “You knew how hard I’d been working for that.” “No, Richard,” he pleaded, “we both knew you were the best candidate but she felt...” He stopped to mop his brow and reached for the glove box. I punched his hand away and he whimpered, “She felt that I needed the job so her dad would accept me. She didn’t think he’d approve of her dating a nobody.” I unclenched my fists, “What about Denise?” He seemed to visibly shrink into the chair and cried, “She doesn’t need to know. She’d kick me out!” He sat up and grabbed me by my collar. “It’s bad enough that I’m going to lose my job over this,” he was crying, “but I can’t lose my wife and home. Please Richard, you’ve got to help me.” Disgusted, I pushed him off, noisily, he wiped his nose on his jacket. “For two years,” I said, “I knew that your job should have been mine. I knew you’d betrayed me somehow. I should be delighted, I’ve wanted to expose you all this time, but I’m not. I’m disgusted with you.” He shot back up and reached for the glove box again, this time I felt his nose disintegrate as I punched him full and hard in the face. “What you got in there?” I asked, “What are you hiding?” He was holding his shattered nose with both hands so I knew he wouldn’t trouble me. I opened it ignoring his muffled pleas and cries. Cautiously I looked inside, I half expected to find Denise’s head but I reminded myself that I wasn’t a character in some shoddy horror film. Instead, I found a pile of photographs, each one showing Daniel and Sarah together. “She wanted me to leave Denise,” he said “and when I refused she had those taken and was going to send them to her. When I tried to stop her, she told her dad and he said I’d be out of the company in a week. I’m going back today to clear my desk.” “Guess, I’d better find another lift then.” I said and reached over as though to console him, as my hand edged past his shoulder I grabbed the door handle and opened it. “Wha-“he cried in surprise. “Sorry Daniel, just something I gotta do.” And he was gone, I’d shoved him onto the concrete, shut the door and driven off. I allowed myself a celebratory drink when I got home, and started scanning the photos into the computer. I typed Denise’s email address in and debated with myself over whether to hit “SEND”. It sounded now like Rachel had stopped banging around in the next room and the thought of her reminded me of my promise not to tell Denise of the affair. I had what I wanted at work, he would surely be gone by tomorrow, and I would surely be offered the chance to apply for his job. Instead of “SEND” I hit “DELETE” and headed downstairs. There was a pink suitcase at the foot of the front door, I looked around for Rachel and Denise, it must have been hers. I guessed Daniel had somehow gotten home and told her the truth. I wandered around the living room and the kitchen but found neither of them, I went back to the case. Confused, I realised it was Rachel’s. She was standing on the stairs clutching a smaller case. “What’s going on?” I asked. “I’m leaving,” she sighed, “You’re always plotting against Daniel and I’ve had enough.” She came down the stairs and started to open the front door. “I’m scared of you, Richard. You could have put the energy you wasted from dwelling on your failed promotion into saving our marriage.” “Bu-“I started but she just sighed again and opened the door. “If only you were still the man I married, you could’ve made me happy for the rest of my life but you’ve become a joke. A small, fat joke of a man.” Copyright 2008 Ross Cornes |
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| Last Updated ( Tuesday, 25 March 2008 ) |
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