Who Do I Think I Am??

This one's about suspecting.

The next morning, Chet woke up realizing he was probably going to miss his bus to work. Since the next one would make him almost two hours late, he thought he could maybe use this week as a chance to take some of his vacation time. So he called his boss...and he was not as forgiving as he was the day before.

"Dammit, Chet. No. NO! Enough is enough! I don't know what's gotten into you lately...your performance is down, you've been calling in sick a lot more lately, and the guys are really starting to wonder about you. And you knew the bigwigs are coming! Frankly, I've had it. You either get your ass in here, or you're gone!!" This seemed to almost relieve Chet.

"Sir," he explained, "there's no way I'll be able to come in today. I'm-"

And that's all his boss needed to hear. "You leave me no choice, Mr. Smythe. You're FIRED! Reason being: poor performance and abandonment of basic responsibilities pertaining to your job." After an exasperated huff, Chet tried to reason with him.

"But sir, I-" and before he could even try to recalibrate his thoughts, his boss interrupted him and shouted, "NO! We're through here. Your final paycheck will be mailed to you. Good day!" Chet waited at the other end to see if his boss was still there. After another minute of silence, he softly sighed and hung up at the phone. On one hand, he thought, this could be a good thing...he was starting to grow tired with his job anyway, and maybe this was a total fresh start. On the other hand, what if he didn't qualify for unemployment? What if he couldn't find a job right away? Then what? His relief was quickly replaced with an almost manic stress.

He didn't wait for the urge to go back to sleep to overtake him. He was going to shower, get ready, and pound the pavement looking for anything. Any kind of job for the time being. But first, he wanted to see Mr. Depew about the tv again.

He arrived at Depew's office just as Depew was opening up. Not sensing this could be a bad time, Chet follwed him in. "Sir, it's about that tv..."

"Listen boy," Depew said, with more than a tinge of anger in his voice, "I ain't got time for this now. Did you plug the damn thing in and turn it on right away?" After telling him he did, Depew's voice got even hotter. "You can't be doin' that with the tv right away after bringin' it in from the cold. These old tv's need to be sittin' in the room. I can't just be goin' out and findin' you a tv every other day when you decide to fry it. Now go on before I-"

"But sir, I-" Chet paused, realizing that he had little to say and wasn't going to be cut off. "I'm just letting you know. I won't ask you to get one right away, but when you can. Maybe you can take a little off my room rate for the time being?"

Mr. Depew got livid. "Are you kiddin' me? You rentin' a room or a tv? My signs don't say 'includes tv'. You get a bed and running water, heat, and a local phone. You're lucky I even pay someone to clean the sheets on that bed and all. Now why don't you just stop there, and take your ass outta my office."

And then it hit Chet...maybe he could do odd jobs around the property for awhile, if not for money, for maybe a small cut off his room rate. "Sir, maybe I can wash the sheets. I'll do anything you need. Handiwork, repairs, clean-up. Do you need an extra hand? I'd even be willing to do it for a share of board."

Depew just shook his head and pounded his fist on the counter. "If you EVER think I'm gonna hire a MURDERER to work under my name, you're SADLY MISTAKEN. It's bad enough I let you stay here, but if you think for ONE SECOND I'm gonna give you a dime, or even trust that you would do anything around here FOR ANYTHING, you're way outta your damned mind!" Depew was shaking at this point, and his eyes began to well up ever-so-slightly.

Chet's heart dropped. He was shaken and confused. "Wh-WHAT? I'm no murderer! I've never once killed anyone!"

Depew took a deep breath and a step back. He pulled a dead carnation out of the vase on the back counter that was kept next to a tiny picture of his daughter. With a hushed tone, he spoke. "I believe that if it was not for you...the way you treated my Alice, the way you took her out and got her drunk and messed up, and broke her heart time and time again, she would have never left. Had she never left...had she stayed here, she would've never gotten involved with all the filth and slime afterwards. You drove her to this, and maybe it don't stand up in a court of law, and I can't do nothin' to bring her back, but it's not gonna stop me from sayin', deep in my gut, that you are just as responsible for her death, if not moreso, than anyone else."

Chet, as usual, had little to say. He felt all the hurt and resentment of Depew, and it was tying knots in his stomach. He didn't know what to say or do, so he did like he always did. He shuffled, looked up one last time at Depew's face, turned, and walked away.

He made it back to his room. He didn't want to shower, but he didn't want these feelings to consume him all day either. But in his head, he played it back and forth. That was the game Chet was always best at. He'd have arguements in his head with whatever and/or whoever was bothering him. Fights about jobs, fights with friends who had felt he wronged them, fights with women...anything to be able to say what exactly he wished he would've been able to say when it was right to say it. He was so good at this because he was always one step behind in the points he would try to make, and could never get the upper-hand.

While in the shower, he let this way of thinking get the best of him. He analyzed every angle of the talk he had with Depew earlier. He matched him point-counterpoint, just to get him off the defensive. He knew the right things to say, even though it was too late. He also knew Depew's stubbornness, and that maybe now was still too soon to address it. Good enough, he thought, as it would provide a little ambition to see what kind of jobs were out there.

The sun was no match for the bitter cold. That's winter in Walden for ya, he thought. He decided he'd try the diner first. He made his basic pitch to the waitress after she brought him a coffee, in hopes to get some facetime in with the owner. But she wasn't interested...it was a family-run business, and openings are only reserved for nieces and nephews and other family members. Chet finished his coffee, left a tip and made his way out.

The next stop would be the Mini-Mart next door. He knew he was gonna stop there anyway for a couple of duece-dueces and something quick for dinner. As he was cashing out, he noticed the counter help was also the assistant manager. Chet figured this would be the perfect time to inquire about a position. "Sorry dude," said the half-stoned 20-something, "we're good right now, but you can fill out the application on the counter." Chet grabbed one and headed back to his room, not liking his chances.

He wasn't even hungry for dinner, and it was almost 6pm. Depew's office light was already off, so there was no more talking to him today. Well, here goes, he thought, and cracked his first beer. That got him through the day's newspaper.

Cracked a second, and drew up a blueprint of what he would say to Depew tomorrow.

On this third, he was reliving all of his past relationships and their failures. Most of them, upon a bigger-picture analysis, came down to him screwing it up.

Chet's fourth was spent summing up that his best chance in a relationship, and probably in life, was with Alice. Sure, maybe he'd be working in a cheap motel for her father, but he'd be doing something, and maybe he'd be running it by now instead.

Number five...he wrote a sloppy love letter/apology to Alice, and realized much to his own chagrin that she'd never see it. Duh, she was dead. He giggled a little at his own stupidity.

He downed a sixth on the way back to the Mini-Mart to get two more duece-dueces. Going from dimly-lit room, to 10:30pm dark-of-night, to a brightly lit convenience store was a little much for the already intoxicated Chet. What Chet also failed to realize was that cashing him out was someone who he had asked about employment a few hours back, and there he was, barely able to get the money out of his wallet to pay for his purchase. His employability really took a hit there.

He made it back to his room, leaning against the door while trying to unlock it. After a few struggles, he was in and spending his seventh beer laughing at himself over how stupid he's been all night.

And that's when Chet stood up, wobbled, and fell back down. The lights were making trails in his vision...he'd close his eyes for what felt like 10 seconds, and minutes would come off the clock. He'd open them, wobble a few steps, reverse his direction uncontrollably, right himself, fall, and repeat this process a few more times, until he made it 15 feet to the other side of the room so he could enjoy his last beer in bed. Hell, he didn't have to work in the morning, so why not? This gave Chet a tiny sentiment of pleasure. But there was one last thing he thought needed to do before he could end his night...