Fixed

Fixed
By: Peter Curtis

The alarm clock went off at exactly 6:02, giving Greg O’Conner forty five minutes to get ready and make the bus for work. He quickly rose from the bed like a child on Christmas day, and walked into his conservative, yet elegant bathroom. His short brown hair and pudgy face reflected off the square bathroom mirror, as he reached for his blue toothbrush.
         “One, two, three, four, five, six” he whispered as he switched the brush to the other side of his mouth. Greg repeated this and washed his mouth out. Placing his toothbrush back onto the sink, so the brush part faced his way, he began washing his face.
         “One” he said while splashing water onto his face and then reached for a towel to dry his face.
         “Two” he said repeating his actions.
         “Three”
         “Four”
The cold New York air blew through his old brick apartment, as Greg walked into his compact kitchen. Rain fell like bullets against the building bringing Greg to a sudden stand still. His mouth began to quiver. He watched as the rain repeatedly hit his thin glass window. Quickly, he sat at his round table and laid his hands flat against the soft walnut wood.
         “Everything is going to be fine” he said calmly trying to control himself.
Huge breathes of air left his mouth as he tried to retain control of the situation. Each time he heard the drops of rain hit, memories flooded through him like an empty bucket with no end. Flashbacks of his brutal childhood, filled with jeers from children and his fathers cursing, echoed in his lonely corpse. His head beat like a drum ready to tear at the seams and suddenly it stopped. The rain stopped.
If one were to open Greg O’Conner’s closet they would be in total awe to see the organization that was present. On the left hung 12 ties, that were all different colors. In the middle hung 10 black pants and below them were 4 shiny black shoes. To the right hung six button up shirts and two blazers. Greg reached for a white shirt, a pair of pants, and a blue tie. He positioned him self in front of the mirror in his closet door and tied his tie in a Half- Windsor knot. Studying the small knot, anger rushed into him and he tore it off. Trying again, he tied the tie and nodded in approval. The black alarm clock began to ring again singling that Greg had ten minutes left. Promptly he slipped his shoes on and walked into the kitchen. An alarm on the coffee machine went off and began to fill the empty cup beneath it. Greg went to his door and stood in place. He turned the door knob 8 times, knocked on the door twice and finally opened the door.
         Stepping out of his apartment building he took the first step of his thirty two steps that would bring him to his bus stop. He made sure to place each foot in one square on the sidewalk, when suddenly he came face to face with a dreadful image. Black smoke rose from the bus expelling into the air. Greg’s stomach turned, as he frantically began to bite his fingers, as thoughts flew around his head.
         “What do I do? I left the house on time. Why is this happening?!”  He yelled within himself. Since working at the bank for 15 years, not once had he missed the bus or been late to work.  He was always the first and last one out of the bank everyday. After five years of non-stop laboring, he was given the manger position and had held the job to the finest that he could. He had memorized how much money the bank had in the safe, knew all the currencies, and could count money in less then a minute. His mind began to spin.
         “Hey! Come on man!” yelled a robust man as he bumped into Greg.
Greg looked at the man like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse, but it was interpreted, when he felt a tug from behind. Boorishly he spun around and a boy stood in front of him.
         “Sir, what’s the matter?” asked the suspicious boy.
         Puzzled about what was occurring Greg answered hastily and reluctantly“Who the hell are you?”
Thinking it was a joke; the boy laughed, but repeated the question again.
         “Nothing! Now leave me alone please” said Greg as he rudely walked away.
But the boy followed. Greg stopped and turned towards the boy aggressively. The day could not get any worse and the boy was adding onto to Greg’s overtopping anger. 
         “Sir, why do you always count your footsteps?”
Baffled by the question, Greg looked at him and guessed the boy was around 12 years old. His tattered cloths hung off him like old laundry and his face contained a million worries.
          “I don’t think that’s any of your business” he said bluntly.
Suddenly the boy walked back around eight yards and started to walk towards Greg, but was counting his footsteps at the same time. Greg noticed that he placed one foot in each square and it brought a smile to his face.
         “You took only twelve steps” said Greg jokingly.
The boy laughed and Greg was taken back by it for a moment. The frosty November wind that hit his sides was blanketed by the warmth of the young boy’s laughter. It had been a long time since Greg had said anything close to humor.
         “Come with me, I want to show you my favorite place in the whole world” said the boy interrupting Greg’s thoughts and walking up the street without awaiting a response. Completely forgetting about what was happening, Greg followed the boy. The shoeless feet of the boy turned left into an ally way and complete darkness engulfed the two. Finally, what seemed like hours of the click clacks from Greg’s shoes they emerged in front of the gloomy Hudson River.
         “So what’s your name, sir?” said the boy as he continued walking towards the river.
Greg paused for a minute.
         “Greg. Greg’s my name” he said awkwardly.
         “Mines Peter”.
They suddenly came to abrupt stop and the boy turned towards Greg excitingly.
         “Here we are Greg!”
Greg, expecting to see something much more exciting, was presented with a cement wall that overlooked the gloomy Hudson.
         “This is it?” said Greg with a frown on his face.
         “Wait let me show you” said the boy as he slowly climbed up the cement wall and stood straight up. Greg made a run towards the wall, as Peter began to walk across it.
         “What are you doing” Greg yelled, as the boy looked at him with a blank face.
         “You’re going to fall, get down!”
Peter smiled and continued the walk.
         “Look if you don’t get dow-“
         “Here you try” said the boy jumping down.
Greg quickly shook his head.
         “Come on! Its fun I promise”
This urging desire burst through Greg as he stared at the boy.
         “Fine.”
Greg slowly maneuvered himself up onto the wall and slowly stood up. He began to sway back and forth and sweat ran down his dry face. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he looked down at the Hudson and wondered if people would find his dead body in the mix of all the junk that lay scattered across the surface of the water. Hesitantly he raised his left leg and put it front of his right. He did the same thing with his right and slowly he began to walk the length of the wall.
         “See!” yelled the boy laughing.
With much excitement, Greg began to move faster and faster until he reached the end. Like a little child jumping into a water puddle, he jumped off the wall and a smile broke across his face. Joy roared through him like never before. He had taken an odd number of steps.
         Just as soon as the joy came it disappeared when lighting lit up the dark sky. Greg came to an intimidate stand still and Peter saw the change in state. Quickly Greg ran back to the ally where they came from and stood biting his nails as the rain drops descended against the hard pavement. The young boy observed this and walked over to Greg with confusion all over his face.
         “I shouldn’t be here. I should be at work, not with a 12 year old kid” yelled Greg in distress as the first of the rain drops began to fall. Soon the rain drops fell heavier and all of New York seemed to look like an empty pool getting filled up.
         “I’m not twelve. I’m ten”.
Greg stared at the boy with anger. The more rain that fell, the more Greg began to panic. Peter’s mouth was moving, but Greg couldn’t hear a sound. His head felt like it was about to explode and just like every situation that Greg was confronted with, he ran.
         The overpowering storm got stronger and stronger as Greg ran with all his might down the dark alleyway. Finally emerging from the ally he was met with rain, and his mind turned into a balloon ready to pop. He quickly ran down the sidewalk bumping into people and crossed the street. As he crossed the street he was met with a familiar sight. Bus 42, the same bus that took him to work, the same bus that he missed today, and the same bus that he had depended upon his whole entire life was now coming thundering at him like a train. Fixed in his position, Greg did nothing, but stare at the powerful glare of the headlights. It came closer and just before the demon hit; Greg looked up to the sky and took notice of one thing.
It was the sunniest day he had ever seen in New York City.