John Frazier waited for what felt like forever for the clock to strike twelve so that he could finally take his lunch break. Not that he would be eating anything today. Instead he would have to use his thirty minutes to try and find a lawyer.
Images of the night before were fresh in his mind, and had been playing over and over in his head. "John, I'm leaving." His wife, Carrol, had said right after she had served him his dinner.
"Where are you going?" He asked, not yet fully understanding the finality of what she had said, "How late are you gonna be out?"
"No John, that's not what I meant." She took his hand and held it tightly, tears were streaming down her face, "I'm leaving and I'm not coming back."
John knew that his marriage had been on the rocks for a while now, but never thought it had gotten this bad. The two just started to grow apart over the last few years. John knew that Carrol wanted more out of life, and he worked hard every day trying to give her whatever he could, but it just wasn't enough. Life in the city was expensive, especially for someone working as simple a job as his, but he pulled extra shifts, took second jobs, and went without so he could fulfill that little dream of her's. He never wanted to live in Manhattan, hell he hated New York, but he would do anything for Carrol. "Why?" John asked his wife, while stoically trying to maintain his own composure.
"I think you know why John. This has been coming for a while now."
Then there were the kids, or rather, the lack of children. This is what they argued about. Carrol had always wanted to raise a big family, and John was fine with that, but he just couldn't afford a bigger place, and to raise a kid in their tiny apartment he thought was just ridiculous. He got her that puppy, a tiny beagle they named "Charley," to distract her, and it worked for a bit, but the dog ended up being more affectionate toward John and it just caused more fights in the long run. "I mean, I know why, but," he sighed and massaged his temples with his right thumb and index finger. Charley whimpered quietly at the man's ankles, seeming to pick up on the turmoil, "I just... Is there nothing we can do?"
"We've been trying John." That was the truth, and the therapy sessions weren't cheap either. John got off work every Thursday and met Carrol at a couples counselor's office downtown. It was an hour and a half of hearing about how he's too unavailable. To which he responds that he would be more available if they moved to New Jersey, or at least one of the other boroughs, which usually gets a big sigh and their therapist saying he's being insensitive.
"I know we've been trying, but isn't there more we can do?"
"Actually John there's one more thing I need to tell you about."
John's heart sank to his knees. Carrol had been taking dancing lessons across town on Tuesdays, which John had hoped would take her mind off of how bad she had been feeling. She suffered from clinical depression, and the medication the doctors had put her on just never seemed like enough to make her feel normal. John hoped that if she got out of the apartment for a little while she might feel a little better. He clenched his hand in a tight fist, as if he could squeeze away the problems he was having, "What?" He dreaded what her answer would be."
"I met this guy, from L.A."
That was all John needed, or wanted, to hear. He got up and left the house without saying an other word. Instead he hopped the train to his buddy Jerry's house and spent the night there. They both rode to work together in silence, John hasn't said a thing since "What?"
It was five past twelve when John was finally able to punch the clock for lunch, and crawl up from beneath the streets of Times Square. He rubbed his eyes as they readjusted to the light, stretched his arms and back and went off to look for a pay-phone. Finding one, he put a couple quarters into the slot and dialed zero.
"Directory assistance. How may I hel-" The operator was cut off by the sound of a massive explosion a block over that stopped traffic cold. All John could think of were the 9/11 attacks and he quickly took cover in a nearby boutique, hoping not to get caught up in whatever the hell it was that was happening.
The scene outside was absolute madness, some would be conquerer apparently had it in his head that it would be a good idea to destroy the city. The streets were flooded with panicked civilians running in terror from something that John couldn't yet see.
"Lock the door!" Came a yell from the back of the place, "I just saw what's happening on the news! We're being invaded! Lock the door and close the security gate so noone can get inside!" Quickly one of the employees rushed over to the entrance where John was standing, but John refused to let him finish his task.
"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" He said aghast at what the manager had ordered, "What if someone out there needs help? You lock that door and I'll break your neck!" John could be very intimidating when he wanted to be, and the teenaged sales associate didn't want a fight with him, so decided to lay off.
"Wait a minute here!" The manager, a fat man in an ugly suit, stormed out from his back office, "You can't tell my employees what to do! This is my shop, and if I say "Lock it up." It's gonna get locked up!" The man barked at John, moving close enough so that if the two men were any closer their noses would be touching. The fat man's breathing was laboured, him being out of breath from shouting.
From this close John could smell the man's sickly sweet cologne. It smelled as if the guy bathed in it. "Today is not the day to be in my face, fat ass." John said apathetically and he shoved the man straight backward. The man rolled to the floor, writhing in pain and shouting obsebities and about how he was going to get a lawyer, while his snickering employees helped him back to his feet.
"Good luck with that Humpty Dumpty. When you find one ask him if he does divorce cases." John had almost forgot about Carrol. Christ! He thought anxiously. I hope she's doing okay out in this mess.
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