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The Only One Chapter 5


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Chapter 5

Although she had been deluding herself into believing that she was leading a full satisfying life, it was gradually occurring to Carole Everly that the source of this fullness lie mostly between the covers of her books, and on the channels of her TV, and the internet of her computer, and the electronic devices which included a cell phone that was her main connection to other living creatures.

In reality, the cafeteria at her place of employment was shaping up to be the stage for most of the live action in her life, and the only thing it was full of was a crowd of hungry people. How pathetic was this?

Sad but true she told herself. But also funny, and she was grateful for the sense of humor that always got her through the absurdness that seem to haunt her life, the latest of which was how in a lunch time matinee thisTroy Briggs had appeared on the scene and taken on a mystyery man role, leaving her to wait out the week, standing in line with a tray, sitting at a half empty table, trying to concentrate on reading, wondering if there would be second act for them to star in. Not just wondering. Hoping. Ridiculous.

Then it was Friday.

“Got your nose in a book again?” a voice inquired, leaving Carole curious over why anyone would make such a silly observation about what was so apparent. But, then she considered the source.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I need to ask you about an account you referred to me yesterday,” her co-worker, Debbie Marlowe, said, peeking over Carole’s shoulder before taking a seat at the cafeteria table. “Whatcha readin?”

Invisible Man,” Carole answered, summoning her civility because Debbie was just a nonentity afflicted with a chronic case of cheerfulness.

“Invisible Man,” Debbie repeated. “Is that a science-fiction book?”

Carole shook her head. “No. It’s just a something I'm finally getting around to reading. It’s been in print for over 60 years.”

“Oh, a history book.”

“Not really.”

“That title rings a bell. Does it have anything to do with that old movie I saw on cable TV about this scientist who discovers a secret formula that makes him disappear?”

“No, it’s not that one,” Carole said. “This book is by Ralph Ellison and the title refers to the impotency that makes black men feel invisible in a white society.”

“Impotency?” Debbie questioned. “Yeah. Right.”

Carole took a deep breath. “One way the book’s homeless hero copes, is to create a secret hideout for himself in the bowels of the city and then tap into its electric supply to get free power.”

Debbie’s smirk was skeptical. “Living in the bowels of the city is a shitty way to get free light. Why didn’t the guy just get a job and have the electric company put him on a payment plan?”

“You miss the point,” Carole sighed. “It's a symbolic representation of a small victory over a big force.”

“It’s an old book, all right,” Debbie scoffed. “Nowadays, black guys seem to be doin just fine. Especially the athletes and rappers.”

Carole decided to change the subject. “Which account did you want to know about?” she asked. “The one that requested a discount on their usage?”

“Yes,” Debbie, confirmed. “That company doesn’t qualify for this program and I’ll – ” She stopped in mid-sentence, smiling back as Troy Briggs went striding by, apparently having someplace to be in a hurry.

“Now, there goes a someone who’s – very visible,” Debbie raved, her eyes orgasmic from the prick of Troy’s glance. “Great buns!”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Carole lied, not about to reveal that observing Troy Briggs at every opportunity had become a major part of her daily routine.

“All that reading has affected your eyesight,” Debbie laughed.

“And stimulated my mind,” Carole murmured.

“What’s more stimulating than vetting our new supervisor?” Debbie taunted, rising to leave. “This guy is hot!”

…And - what was Debbie Marlowe? She was a pert, 25-year-old who, among other things, credited herself with not being racially prejudiced. Unlike her biased family members and certain friends, she believed that African Americans deserved an equal opportunity to prove themselves worthy. Yes, poverty made many of them drug dealers and gang bangers and welfare cheats, and she did sometimes have a problem with trouble makers like Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton, and, unfortunately, a lot of black females really did act hostile toward white ones, as if it was their fault these gals had so much to be resentful about. Nevertheless, skin color was not important to Debbie. There were good and bad in all races. And when it came to black guys, she certainly had no problem hitting it off with the ones she encountered. She had great chemistry with them…

If questioned about Debbie Marlowe, Carole Everly would’ve become contemplative before finally labeling her a harmless ditz. Asked to describe her, a shrugging Carole would’ve dismissed her as a bleached blond, with marble eyes and a chalky complexion, - a busybody who wore her clothes too tight and always had a big grin plastered on her face.

Adopting a detached attitude, Carole would’ve further remarked about Debbie’s eagerness to prove her racial tolerance, humbly revering Martin Luther King, always chattering about how much she admired Oprah, and how gorgeous Beyonce looked, and how cool Will Smith acted, and how intelligent President Obama seemed to be, and now - how hot Troy Briggs was! WTF.

With Debbie’s words echoing in her ears, and with the way Troy Briggs had eye-balled her, Carole suddenly had a feeling that a new member had just been added to the cast of her “Cafeteria Follies”…

…On his way out of the door, late for a staff meeting, salivating over who he’d just exchanged glances with, Troy Briggs also had his impressions of Debbie Marlowe. This chick had caught his attention from day one with her great body, her sparkling blue eyes, her long golden tresses, her porcelain skin. And her friendly smile. What was not to like?

That evening, in the grip of a different hunger, Troy waited for the ping of the micro-wave, then opened the door and removed his hot meal from the appliance he found indispensable.

Yeah, he missed home-cooking, but take-out food and frozen dinners were the trade-off for leading a care free bachelor life. Just like his sparsely-furnished studio apartment with its sofa bed and his mother’s cast-offs was a down grade, but after years of sharing roomier accommodations with the spouse from hell, his present digs were like a castle!

Setting up a tray, Troy prepared to dine like a king. But before indulging his palate, he picked up the TV remote and switched from the news to WHEEL OF FORTUNE.

On screen, the soccer mom from Wisconsin took a spin and when the pointer stopped on $5000 she bared her beaver teeth in a big grin. “I’d like to buy a vowel, Pat,” she gushed.

Munching on a morsel of Salisbury steak, Troy grunted. “And I’d like to fuck ol Vanna,” he mumbled, his avid eyes appreciating how this fair maiden bore no resemblance to his ex-wife.

Making progress, the soccer mom took another turn as…

…round and round went the wheel, spinning, spinning, fast, then slow, like the motions of the person sprawled there watching TV, playing with himself while thinking how he could make the blankness of life spell d-e-a-t-h, - make a woman holler like a soccer mom.

“I’d like to solve the puzzle, Pat!” the soccer mom screeched.

“Go right ahead, Cindy.”

“Easy come, easy go!”

"Easy come, easy go," the jack-off repeated and chuckled as he recalled the game he'd beaten the night before...

- to be continued -

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