The drive to the office was, as Dave expected, short and not sweet. Max spent the entire time singing Believe by the Bravery. It was Max’s favorite so Dave heard it a lot. Dave hated it. Mostly out of spite.

He pulled into the call center parking lot in his beat-up 1987 Ford Escort. Rust holes in the sides, bumper half-detached, each door a different color. The interior somehow still smelled like dust from 1986. The odometer had given up years ago, but the heater and the A/C worked, and it still ran. For the most part.

“I can’t believe you still have this thing,” said Max, riding shotgun. “Will this even make it to Minden?”

“This car is the most reliable thing in my life,” said Dave.

“Low bar,” replied Max.

“It’ll make it.”

They walked into the office at nine eighteen. Heads turned. Anyone not on a call paused to watch Dave stroll past the cubicles like a man who’d just been voted off the island.

“Well, it’s not the standing ovation I was expecting,” said Max. “Thought you were doing better for yourself.”

“We couldn’t all profit from people’s peeing habits,” Dave muttered. “I just need to tell my boss I’m gonna be gone for a while. Kinda exciting. I’ve never used bereavement time before.”

“Pssst,” came a whisper followed by a hand on his shoulder. It was Lacey, the office assistant-slash-float. She covered for Dave more often than HR would like. More often than he would like.

“Just go to your cubicle,” she whispered. “I clocked you in and told Ryan you were out with… stomach issues.”

Dave laughed with rare confidence.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ve got a reason today. All I gotta do is talk to that walking douche nozzle and I’m home free for a week.”

“DAVE!” boomed a voice from across the office.

WALKING DOUCHE NOZZLE! Dave thought before raising a hand to wave.

“RYAN!” Dave shouted back, matching the tone.

“How about you step into my office?” Ryan called, chipper as ever.

Dave knew what was coming. Ryan would yell for five or ten minutes, then Dave would drop the dead brother card and walk out with a week of paid grief. That was the plan.

He stepped into Ryan’s office and shut the door. It was once a janitor closet, and it still faintly smelled of toilet bowl cleaner and urinal cakes. Ryan sat behind a desk that was raised three inches too high. It was flanked by chairs that were lowered just enough to make visitors feel small.

Ryan was the kind of guy who was probably insufferable in high school, before doubling down in college. Frat bro turned middle manager. Beer gut tucked behind loose pants and an oversized belt buckle. His cologne barely masked the minty stench of old urinal cakes, and his receding hairline suggested that even his hair couldn’t stand the thought of being around him.

Dave grinned. He was ready.

“You’re fired,” Ryan said, blurting it out like he’d been holding it in all morning.

You’re fired. Two words that hit hard every time he heard them, and he’d heard them a lot.

“What? You can’t fire me.”

Ryan was nearly jumping with giddy excitement, bouncing in his chair like he was about to pee his pants.

“Actually, I can,” he said. “You’ve been late ten times this month. Today makes eleven. I could’ve fired you after three, but what can I say? I’m just that nice.”

“I’m not late today,” Dave said. “I clocked in and went to the bathroom. Trust in gas station hotdogs is almost always misplaced.”

Ryan put on his best big boy face and leaned into his desk.

“I watched you come in late,” he said. “I also watched Lacey clock you in. She’ll be in here after you.”

“I have a reason today,” Dave said. “My brother died this morning. I had to… grieve.” Even Dave didn’t buy the grieving part. But the dead brother thing was true enough, and that came with bereavement time. Sympathy. “I get a week. I’m very… bereaved.”

“Oh, right,” said Ryan. “Turns out, we only pay that to employees. And since you’ve been fired, you don’t get it. If you’d called in this morning and explained everything, it would’ve been fine. You wouldn’t have been late, and I could’ve fired you next week instead. But you came in. So… here we are.”

“God damn it, you asshole!” Dave snapped. “I came in because I…” He gritted his teeth and forced the words. “Respect you enough to tell you face-to-face that I need the time off.”

That was a lie. He came in to watch Ryan squirm. To see the look on his face when he realized he was kicking a man while he was down, even if Dave wasn’t really down.

He was met by security when he walked out of Ryan’s office. As he walked by Lacey he nodded his head in slightly apologetic surrender.

They walked out of the building together, each carrying a small box of trinkets and baubles, the kind of things that made their cubicles feel like home in a place designed to strip your personality away. Max walked between them.

“That guy seems like a real tool,” he said.

“You have no idea,” Dave muttered.

Lacey looked at him.

“No idea about what?” she asked.

Dave turned to her, momentarily startled. He’d almost forgotten she was there.

“What?” he asked, before realizing she couldn’t hear Max. Of course she couldn’t. Max was Dave’s problem.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was talking to… myself. Kind of a crazy morning.”

“Tell me about it,” said Lacey. “I’ve never been fired before.”

Dave continued to look at her. She must have been… maybe ten years younger than him. She was lacking the life experience he had. Most people were.

Lacey was mousy and bookish. Quiet. Dave had never shown much interest in her, platonic or otherwise. That didn’t stop her from hovering near him, imagining a friendship that was mutual, even if it wasn’t.

They took a seat on a small bench near the entrance of the complex.

Max stood in front of them, arms crossed, like a disappointed father looking down at his children. In Dave’s case, maybe a disappointed mother, but that would imply she cared in the first place.

“Get fired enough and you get used to it,” he said. “The first five are the hardest. After that they still sting, but not as much.”

“So what now?” asked Lacey.

She seemed to think of them as a team, and Dave wasn’t sure he wanted to be part of it.

He sighed and looked up at Max.

“Now,” he said, “I go to Minden, Nebraska.”

“Oh,” replied Lacey. “What’s in Minden?”

“My brother,” Dave answered. His replies were short, clipped. Sometimes it was intentional, a way to shut down conversations. Sometimes it was reflex. He wasn’t sure which this was.

“Yeah,” said Lacey. “Family’s good. Especially at a time like this. You two must be close.”

Max uncrossed his arms and placed his hands on his hips before bending over to look Dave in the eyes.

“Yeah,” he said. “We must be real close.”

Dave ignored him.

“Not really,” he said. “We haven’t talked in… three years.”

Lacey slumped over a little, deflating like an old balloon.

“Going for reconciliation?” she asked.

“He’s dead,” Dave said flatly. “Killed himself this morning… or last night… I don’t know, sometime in the last twenty-four hours.” He let out a frustrated sigh before continuing. “It’s up to me to get his ashes and bring him back so my mom can have a new decoration for the mantle. It’s best if it looks like she cares.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that,” said Lacey, her voice soft-spoken and sincere. “When my sister died last year, it was soul-crushing.”

Dave’s heart gave one big pound against his chest. A little wake-up call from inside. He’d known Lacey for five years. Not only was he unaware of her sister’s death, up to this point, he wasn’t even aware she had a sister to begin with.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. And he meant it. Maybe the first true thing he said all day. He was sorry for the loss of her sister. Sorry she’d lost her job, even if she’d acted on her own. Sorry for being a selfish, inattentive person. A bad friend.

“It’s okay,” she replied. “If you need anyone… if you need help… I could come with you.” She laughed a little. “It’s not like I have anywhere to be now.”

“Road trip with this little cutie?” Max asked enthusiastically. “C’mon, brother, you can’t turn this down. She’s obviously into you.”

“Stop it!” Dave snapped, once again forgetting that Lacey couldn’t see or hear his brother.

He turned to look at her. Her eyes were welling with tears.

“Not you,” he said, voice softening. “I wasn’t-I wasn’t talking to you. I promise. It’s been a long morning, and it’s going to be a long few days. I’m not myself right now, and I’m taking it out on everyone but myself, and I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t freaking help it.”

He paused and took a breath before continuing.

“I appreciate the offer. I really do. But if you come with me, it won’t be pleasant. I’ll call you when I get back, though. We can grab a bite to eat. Maybe just… commiserate together.”

Next Chapter: Three