Stephen Mejias

photo by kgm

I noticed, after six days away, something different:
More space.

Or, I should say:
An absence.

The filing cabinets which held copies of invoices, shipping and receiving receipts, press releases, and other office documents were taken away and replaced by new, unfamiliar filing cabinets. The shorter ones have been replaced by taller ones, the taller by shorter, the gray by white, and the white by gray. The office uniform has been altered. It's not so uniform anymore.

I shrug my shoulders at this, just as I've shrugged my shoulders at many other things. We grow accustomed to [blank], like everything else. In any case — in this case — we're moving. Primedia is consolidating its Manhattan offices, shuffling its cards, transferring employees from other locations to this location. And so, we'll have to relocate to a new floor.

***

He wakes and notices something different. A change, an absence, a break. He is on the floor, near the stairs. He doesn't know what happened, not immediately. And then.

It becomes as clear as it will ever become. His new wife walks in to find him there, broken. He is squirming about the floor like an infant, an insect, a drunk. He has no explanation. He cannot stand.

Imagine him, moments before, running up the stairs, losing control. No, not losing control, but having already lost control. Running up the stairs, out of control. Imagine his six-foot, two hundred-thirty-pound body, flailing. Imagine all this weight and dumb movement collapsing upon his left ankle, shattering it into so many smaller pieces, making a sound like corn flakes crunching in a child's hungry mouth. Imagine her imagining him.

She calls the ambulance and has him taken away, just as I did years earlier. I shrug my shoulders. What else can I do?

***

Soon, John arrives.

"Stephen!" he exclaims. "You came back."

"Of course. What else would I do?”

"We missed you."

"And I missed you."

"How was Puerto Rico?"

"It was beautiful," I say, "but I go away for a few days and find that everything has changed." I motion to the filing cabinets behind him.

John looks around and smiles:
"It has?"