Short Story In Progress (UNFINISHED)

    "When I first took over my work route, I was happy. Everything was right in the world and my life felt like a plot in a romance novel. I was in love with a girl and I even started liking myself for the first time, while learning how to heal from old wounds. I remember how I used to laugh at people when they spoke about being on cloud nine, but then I gained a glimpse at how wonderful love can be, and I liked it. I liked it very much. I liked the floaty feeling that carried me through each day. Even on the hard days, when things went wrong, I didn't care. I didn't lose my temper. I was in love and it made everything in my life feel great," Edgar said while turning slightly in his seat.

    "Mm-huh, I see," the therapist replied while scribbling notes onto a pad of paper. "You mentioned 'healing from old wounds'. Would you care to elaborate more on that, Edgar?" she asked, while finishing her notes. She looked up at him with kind, caring eyes. She was new, fresh out of university, trying to kickstart her psychiatry career. Edgar had just started coming to see her. This was their third month of sessions.

    "Um.. yeah. I mean, it's not an easy thing for me to put into words, but I'll try. I was abused as a young boy. It happened with a youth pastor in a church I went to. He lured me in," he explained in a quiet voice, while looking away.

    "Sexually?" she asked. Edgar nodded and his shrink continued. "That is a difficult thing for anyone to overcome. Tell me, how often do you lose your temper or find your mood swings to shift into darker territory?"

    "Well, like I said before, I was really happy for several years when I was with my girlfriend. I didn't lose my temper or deal with depression the entire time. But then, after everything happened, I began to fall apart pretty quickly and now I'm either angry or depressed every day of the week. The intensity comes and goes, but the negative feelings linger. I can't escape this ditch I'm in, hence me coming here," Edgar replied while gesturing at the room with his hand.

    "And tell me, what happened in your relationship that caused it to end?"

    "I caught her fucking another guy in a parked car in the parking lot of the gym we went to."

    "And how did you react in the moment?"

    "I positioned my car so that I was facing them and flipped on my high beams and yelled out the window for them to exit the vehicle, the way a cop would. My headlights illuminated the inside of their car and I watched both of them scrambling to put clothes on. They were in the back seat. It took them exactly one minute and thirty two seconds to get fully dressed. I timed it. Afterwards, they just sat there with their hands up to their faces trying to block the bright light of my high beams, unsure of what to do next. I was also uncertain. I didn't have a gameplan for this type of scenario, so I just honked my horn. One loud, continuous honk of the car horn. I just kept pressing the center of the steering wheel, harder and harder, as though the strength of my press would increase the loudness of the horn. And then, after maybe a minute or so of horn honking and people staring over at the situation... I simply drove away. As I did, I passed by their car very closely so that she could see me, and then I disappeared into the night," Edgar explained, seemingly in one breath.

The therapist went back to taking more notes. Edgar watched her hand move as she jotted things down. Her wedding ring was big and reflected the incoming sunlight from the window behind her, scattering it across the room in wild directions as her hand continued wiggling. When she finally stopped, the reflected light stopped directly in his eyes, temporarily blinding him and causing him to look away. Edgar started laughing and she quickly looked up.

    "You're amused by the retelling of this horrible event?" she asked with curious expression.

    "No. I'm amused by the irony of your wedding ring blinding me with sunlight right after finishing the story," he explained.

She looked down at her ring in confusion, so Edgar explained what she had missed. Now understanding, she looked over her shoulder at the window and then moved her hand around and watched as her ring reflected light all around the room. She smiled.

    "I'm sorry, I didn't realize. Would you like for me to close the blinds?" she asked.

    "No. I enjoy seeing the trees," he replied. She nodded and continued.

    "Okay, so, when you're feeling angry, what level of anger do you feel? What sort of things set you off?" she asked while touching the end of her pen to her lips.

Edgar watched her for a moment, before replying.

    "I can give you an example. Just the other day, I'm in my work truck and I'm driving through a neighborhood on my Wednesday route. I pulled up to a garbage can that was overflowing. The customer had placed several extra bags next to the can where dogs or racoons had gotten to it overnight. It was a mess; garbage strewn everywhere. After I was done cleaning it all up, I climbed back into my truck, screamed and cursed loudly and punched the dash several times. Then, a few streets over, I broke down and started crying."

    "Would you say your anger level was at a five, on a scale to ten?" she asked. Edgar nodded yes and mentioned maybe even a little higher. She continued. "Okay, I think this is what I would like to have you do. I'm giving you a homework assignment, is that alright?" He shrugged and nodded yes again, to which she continued. "I want you to start a little logbook or journal of sorts, in which you write down every time you find yourself experiencing these boiling points. Note the time and day and place of each outburst. Create a map, so to speak, of your emotions. Can you do this for me?" He nodded yes a final time, just as the timer on her desk started gently buzzing. They both stood up and shook hands, Edgar said he'd see her again next week, walked out of her office and into the remaining sunshine of the day.

                                                                       * * * * *

It was nearing the end of his work shift when the song came on. Edgar noted the time (2:17pm) and jotted it down in his Emotion Management journal as tears rolled down his face. He was crying so hard the journal entry looked as though it had been written in the rain. He peered out the window of the garbage truck to catch the house number and street name he was on and included it in his notes. Just then, the chorus kicked in and the lyrics to their favorite song turned the cab of the truck into a concert, causing him to cry even more while remembering Katie dancing in the corner of the bar where they first met. She was so pretty that Edgar's disdain for dancing had completely vanished as he walked over and grooved with the girl he would fall madly in love with. It was love at first sight and they clicked from the moment their bodies first touched. Edgar wanted nothing else in the world, but her.

As he reminisced about the girl he loved, he continued crying inside the garbage truck while his soul felt like it was ripping to shreds. Sadness mixed with rage as his emotions bubbled up to an eight. He started screaming and banging the steering wheel with his fists. Everything hurt. He wanted to die. He wanted the whole world to suffer and feel the sadness that was currently killing him. Being in no shape to drive, Edgar decided to dump three more cans and then park up ahead, out of the way of neighborhood traffic, in a cul-de-sac with two other parked cars. He turned off the work truck and scribbled some notes into his journal while fighting back tears and anger. After about thirty minutes had passed, he felt good enough to drive again. He felt weary and wanted to end his work shift, and go home and get drunk. He turned the ignition over and felt the diesel engine roar to life, and as he shifted into first gear and began moving forward, flashing emergency lights approached in his mirrors, so he quickly stopped. Edgar watched as two police cars and an ambulance raced down the street he was on and swarm the front driveway and lawn of the house he was just at. Edgar decided to drive his truck around the cul-de-sac which placed him in perfect view of the action.

Some neighbors appeared on their front lawns to witness the event taking place. A few gathered together and chatted, while others remained alone with arms crossed, silently observing or talking on their cell phone. Edgar remained in his work truck and watched as the paramedics rushed a motionless body out of the home on a stretcher and lift it into the back of the ambulance. They slammed the doors shut and quickly sped away, presumably to the nearest hospital (where he dumped the garbage every Thursday). The police then made their way over to the onlookers to begin their round of questioning. Edgar decided to pop her into gear and leave, seeing how getting caught up in that sort of thing could add an extra hour to his shift. When he finally got back to the truck yard and was preparing to clock out, the news of what occurred had reached him. Everyone was buzzing about it and wanted to know if he saw or heard anything, and if so, was he going down to the police station. He waved them off and assured them he didn't see a thing, and then hurried to his car and left. When he reached his apartment complex, the news of what happened finally sunk in and he sat motionless for an unknown amount of time while his brain began to process the information. Young girl, sixteen years old, home early from a half day of school, parents not yet home from work. For reasons unknown, the girl had suddenly leapt from her second story bedroom window, slamming into the concrete patio surrounding the backyard swimming pool below. She was on a Facebook Live video at the time it happened and her friends immediately alerted the police, but there was nothing anyone could do to save her. The girl had died on impact.

                                                                      * * * * *

    "How have you been? We haven't seen each other for over a month and a half, why is that?" the therapist asked politely and calmy, while hiding any concern she might have. She finished jotting something down onto her legal pad and looked up at Edgar.

He squirmed around in his chair while scoping her office walls, ignoring her questions. He noticed a new picture... it was of a cat sitting in a lawn chair next to a swimming pool. It held a fishing pole in its paws, with the line entering the pool and a bobber rippling the water's surface. Edgar stared quietly at it for awhile, still ignoring his shrink. He began remembering the young girl on his garbage route who died next to her swimming pool and a tear formed in the corner of his eye and rolled down his cheek. He made no attempt to stop it.

    "You're crying. And you are ignoring me. Why?" she asked.

Edgar exhaled loudly and finally turned to face her. "I think... I think my emotions are hurting people," he replied while tossing his journal onto her desk. He pointed at it and continued. "This goddamn journal you asked me start. It has gone way beyond simply jotting down when I get sad or mad. I discovered a pattern... a pattern of devastation and chaos. And I don't know what to do!" he exclaimed anxiously.

She leaned forward, picked up the journal and started thumbing through it. After a minute, she exhaled and sighed, setting it back down again. She sat quietly for a minute gathering her thoughts before responding.

    "You really dove into the assignment, Edgar. I'm going to need some time to study all your entries and all the reference notes you included, but for now, is there anywhere in particular you'd like to begin during this session? Actually, let's do this. Tell me why you think you're hurting people. What gives you this impression?" she asked while tapping the top of the journal with her pen.

Something was different. Something felt off and he couldn't quite put a finger on what it was. He stared at her a little while longer, searching his brain for a way to answer her question when suddenly...

    "YOUR WEDDING RING!" Edgar exclaimed. Startled, she looked down at her empty ring finger and calmly slid her other hand over it, as if trying to conceal the white circle of skin where her diamond ring used to be. She cleared her throat and looked back up.

    "You have an eye for things, don't you. Yes, my husband and I have divorced, but my personal affairs are of no concern, I assure you. I am of sound mind and clear heart and my home life will not interfere with my professional one. I promise, there is no need to worry over it," she calmly explained.

    "No, no, you don't understand! Here, look..." he said franticly while reaching for the journal. He opened it up and placed it down in front of her while tapping the page. "Look right there. Read!" he implored. She picked up the journal and began reading. After turning another page, she read a little longer and finally closed the book. She set it back down and let out another sigh.

    "You are not causing these things to happen. Please, you mustn't think this way. These are nothing more than wild coincidences. Sweetie, listen. People divorce, people die. This is life!"

    "No no no... this goes way beyond coincidence. If this was your journal and these were people you knew, you'd be freaking out and you know it. I mean, look at the divorces alone: First it was my 75 year old parents, then my brother and his wife, then the new guy I befriended at work, then my neighbor and his wife shortly after I moved in next door, and now I find out you divorced too. All of these occurred after I moved back here, and it's way too many to be a coincidence and you know it," Edgar said.

    "It's... it is peculiar, I'll admit. But I still say none of this is your doing," the therapist said without much conviction.

    "Yes, but those are just the people I know in real life. When you read my journal you'll see I was able to spot a pattern along the homes on my garbage routes too. I noticed divorce clues, such as one of the family vehicles no longer parked there, lots of alcohol bottles in the recycling bin, certain parents no longer waiting for their kid at bus stop, etc. Then I checked the billing records and sure enough, a husband or a wife's name removed from the account. Of the ones I figured out for sure, six more divorces, and four others that are very likely, but unconfirmed. And now let's talk about all the people who are hurt or dead because they got too close to me. My ex girlfriend's daughter became depressed and suicidal when we were dating

TO BE CONTINUED...