An Adequate Man by Michael Carr (the rosie project .txt) 📕

An Adequate Man

By Michael J. Carr

My name is George Fuller. I am completely normal in every way. Exceptionally average. My qualities reflect my mindset, which in itself wreaks of "mid-rank". I live moderately well and mildly above my means. I have a normal wife with a normal name. Sarah. We have two ordinary children. When they were born I'd hoped they'd be athletic while Sarah hoped they'd be artistic. Unfortunately, both Sam and Rachel are neither physical nor creative enough to excel in any accounts. I drive a used Toyota with thirty thousand miles on the odometer. I've yet to change the oil this month.

I was born in a small town, where I attended a small school. After middle school, my father was promoted and we moved to a middle sized town where I attended a middle sized high school. I graduated in the top ten percent of my graduating class. That surprised me.

I then moved to a rather large city to study in a rather large college. I was a member of a fraternity. The name escapes me. It started with an M. I had a nickname there. It was fairly unoriginal. Spud, I believe. It was neither the first nor last time the name would be used to describe a man like me. I met Sarah and we were soon married at the reasonably young age of twenty two. The sex on our honeymoon was decent.

We then bought a small house in a small town. Sarah thought it would be a pleasant place for the children to develop and grow. I agreed. And so I found myself situated in a rather mid level position in a somewhat known, but by no means expansive, real estate agency. Today I woke up just in time to catch the six o' clock news. I ate breakfast. It was adequate. The toast was light and buttery. The pancakes were burned.

I hate my life.

***

Sarah brought me the mail today. She carried the envelopes as she walked, tucked squarely under her armpit, despite the fact that both her hands were free. I hoped she hadn't forgotten to put on deodorant again. She placed the mail in the middle of the small, imitation oak table that faced due north near an open window from which the sun's rays could flow directly through and into my eyes. Sarah is big on feng shui.

I quickly flipped through the contents of the pile. It contained three separate bills: one for water, one for electricity and one for my MasterCard. I placed them in a neat pile in a special tray labeled "bill tray" that hung from our wall. A letter from my mother had arrived. She asked me how the kids were. A bright orange pamphlet informed me that I could be eligible to be nominated as a finalist in a $10,000 giveaway. Or I could have a waffle iron. Either way, the company sponsoring the sweepstakes required me to supply them with the pin number to my Chase bank account. I neatly folded the pamphlet and placed it in the recycling bin.

Once the mail had been sorted, I dressed in a grey suit with a black tie. The tie felt a bit tight on my throat, but it was good for appearances. I picked up my Samsonite briefcase and quickly dialed the four digit lock combination, checking to make sure I had enough manila envelopes to last me the day through. I did, but I added three more for good measure. I then shut the briefcase and reset the lock. I grabbed my light coat, for the weather channel said the afternoon temperature, factoring in windchill, would be a cool forty five. I then made for the door.

I kissed Sarah on the cheek and said goodbye to Sam and Rachel, both of whom were now up and situated at the small breakfast table, each eating burned pancakes with a strawberry pop tart for dessert. Just one though, otherwise their teeth would rot.

I shut the door behind me and walked up the cobblestone sidewalk to where my car stood. I fumbled for my keys and stepped inside my used Toyota. I remembered I still hadn't changed the oil. As I turned the key, I hoped briefly that the engine wouldn't start. For a moment I thought the car was dead, then it roared to life. I sighed as I put the car in reverse and moved out of the driveway, driving down the street at approximately twenty two miles per hour.

***

As I walked down the street towards the Willford Stanley Real Estate office, I saw a homeless man sitting on the corner. Both his legs were gone, ending in stumps barely covered by a set of ratty clothing. He wore gloves that were cut off at the fingers on both hands. He held up a sign that said "War Veteran: Please Help" or something to that effect. I really couldn't read his writing. As I approached he asked me if I had any spare change.

I'd just bought a coffee at the Starbucks down the road and a good sixty three cents of loose change lay mixed in with the blue lint that lined my designer pants. But I told him I had none to spare and passed on my way.

I don't know why I did that.

***

As I sat in my desk and stuffed a vaguely unimportant memo into one of the manila envelopes I'd decided to line my briefcase with, my co-worker Bob Barone (or is it Baron?) paused to shoot the breeze. He told me a bad joke about a bartender and a rabbi. I laughed out of politeness. He then told me about his daughter Alice, who had gotten the lead role in the kindergarten play, and how she would be performing next Tuesday. I congratulated him, and seeing as how Alice and Rachel sometimes meet under play dates scheduled by both our wives, I agreed to attend a performance.

I then told him that Sam had gotten honorable mention in the school science fair. Bob nodded approvingly. He then told me that he had to report back to his desk before Charlie, a top agent in the company, "got on his case".

Before he left he informed me that I'd put my memo in the wrong type of manila envelope.

***

For my lunch break I decided to purchase a sandwich from the deli down the street. I'd eaten there only three times previously. I was in the mood for something new. As I made my way down the street I saw a woman close to my own age approaching. She was dressed in a black coat and high heels. She seemed vaguely familiar. When she looked up I recognized her as a former classmate from my college years. I couldn't for the life of me remember her name.

As she approached I noticed she too had met my eyes. I knew that one of us would have to acknowledge the other's presence as we grew closer. It was she who spoke first, passing at a slightly quicker pace.

"Hey, Tom." she said.

I gave a slight heads up of acknowledgement despite her gross misinterpretation of what my name was. I responded with a mumbled phrase which sounded somewhat like "heyyadoin...".

She seemed to understand what I'd meant and continued on her way after a brief nod of the head. I performed an awkward half turn and went along my way, soon entering the small deli.

The roast beef was more or less exactly how I'd remembered it from my last three visits.

***

When I passed the parking lot I found that several birds had decided to defecate on my Toyota's windshield.

***

I left for work at 5:45 pm and stopped at a local supermarket to pick up some produce.

I stood over the apple cart and spent the next two minutes shifting through the batch of fresh fruit. After I'd collected four apples I found a small apple with a deep bruise in the side. It felt soft to the touch and mushy underneath. I quickly replaced it for a more attractive one. I vaguely wondered if the bruised apple would consider me superficial after such an act.

Then I remembered that apples couldn't think.

Then I wondered briefly why, for a moment, I'd thought that they could.

Then the world went dark.

***

I awoke twenty minutes later on the supermarket floor. The bag of apples lay spilled across the ground. Now I would have to pick out five new ones.

A small crowd of confused shoppers stood in a circle around me. They whispered amongst themselves. None of them bothered to help me to my feet or inquire me as to my condition. I realized that my pants were wet due to the fact that I had urinated in my unconscious state.

That was unexpected.

***

I took the first half of the day off work and went in for some tests. It was Sarah's idea. She couldn't be there with me though. Sam and Rachel had missed the bus and she had to take them to school using the minivan.

As I sat in the waiting room I flipped through a small brochure that explained the dangers of HIV and several other Venereal diseases. A cartoon character was featured prominently. I thought that was rather inappropriate. A portly woman in a shirt half her size sat across from me holding a baby in her arms. The baby began to cry. It cried for some time. The woman, however, seemed not to notice. She was too busy watching the reality show on the television set that hung from the ceiling above.

I took a cue from the woman and focused on the television myself. Apparently, a fat man was going to be voted off some sort of island because he had drank his team's water. The show seemed staged.

I would have watched more but the doctor called me in.

He was a middle aged Indian man with a last name I couldn't pronounce. I instead refered to him as "doctor" for the duration of the visit. He in turn called me "Mr. Faller". He asked me if an accident similar to the one I'd undergone at the super market the day previously had ever occurred before. I told him no, since the accident was the whole reason I was in the hospital to begin with.

He didn't seem to get the joke. I didn't make anymore.

He called in a nurse with shaky hands to come in and poke me with a large needle. Apparently, he was too overqualified to do it himself. The nurse missed three times before finally making contact with a vein. She gave me two pink bandages. A large and rather terrifying looking machine was then brought in to take a scan of my head and chest.

The doctor told me to just go to work and resume my day as if nothing strange had ever happened. He'd call with the results of the test within two hours time.

***

Bob was informing me that his other daughter, Janice, had done extremely well at her ballet auditions and that he had an extra copy of the tape if I wanted one, when the phone rang. I answered it perhaps more hastily