Tally Marks

The Dissatisfying Reality

Cade Farron weakly cracked open his hazel eyes to the sliver of the morning light peeking in through the opaque royal blue curtains. The alarm on his phone sounded off, alerting him back to reality. He turned flat on his back, stroking through his disheveled salt and pepper graying hair, feeling the massive space as he laid in the middle of a bed made for two, the white duvet covered his half-naked body. He laid dismal and dissatisfied, knowing the one he had once called Mrs.Farron was finding satisfaction someplace else rather than with him, in her coworker's bed...

"Shut up!" Cade finally smacked the screen of his phone, shutting the alarm off before rubbing at his silvery beard, eyeing the empty bottle of scotch, the shot glass knocked over right beside it, laying still for the second day in a row. He pulled a stack of papers from the nightstand drawer, and his lips curled with anticipation; eager to catch Leana in the midst of her angelic act, ready to see the jaw-dropping shock etched to her face when he tells her to inscribe her name into the stack.

He achingly rose up, grabbing her picture from the right cherry wood nightstand, studying the fiery russet wavy locks, deep verdant eyes, her sculpted porcelain face. Though he couldn't shake himself free of her carved beauty at the moment, he couldn't help but think of all the times she snuck her lacy lingerie within her briefcase or within the glove compartment of her car, fabricating excuse after excuse ranging from client meetings to business lunches. Until one night, he followed her, curious of her many whereabouts, wondering who she met with. Only to find her silhouette intertwining with that of fellow lawyer, Marcus Atwood, in the tawny glow within the walls of his home, screaming her name for the rest of the ritzy complex to hear of his secret love for her.

"I'm not ready yet Leana. Not today." Cade spoke solemnly, before his hazel eyes widened upon the sudden realization of this specific Monday morning; the day he'd be relocated to yet another buzzing high school, resuming his duties tending to both the artistically challenged and the talented, the nowhere-in-life students that think they can do whatever they pleased, and the pompous girls that thought they ran the school just by the sway of their rears. The thought alone made him shudder in revulsion.

"Here we go." He finally rose from the bed in nothing but his gray boxers, staggering towards the bathroom, twisting the dial upon the shower before examining the remnants of his hungover weekend within his intoxicated breath, laying in his lonesome bed with scotch as his only friend. Cade stepped in under the refreshing warmth, as he found it in him to rinse away the lingering inebriation, before donning his long-sleeve, button-down, black striped shirt and a pair of denims. He slightly slicked his hair back and slipped on his thick black-rimmed bifocals before slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder and eyeing his many paintings hung along the walls of the hallway, knowing Leana's love for his works diminished as she grew apart from him.

The growing light shined upon the window pane, reflecting off the surface of the silver band of his left ring finger. Cade gaped in contemplation as he debated keeping on a token of lackluster love.

"Screw it, you just may come in handy you worthless fucking scrap." He slipped it within the front left pocket of his denims and snatched the keys to his sleek onyx Lincoln MKZ, locking the door behind him. He set his messenger bag beside him atop the passenger seat and turning his key into the ignition, taking a moment to examine the clear lustrous morning, still and quiet as it was every other morning in Duncaster. Although it was a new day, there was no changing that heart-sinking feel within the walls of his chest, the weight atop his shoulders, the skies of gray pouring down within his mind over Leana's doing.

He backed out and drove off into the city, whirring abuzz with the swarm of people scurrying across the street to make it to their job on time, holding their Starbucks cups in one hand and their phone in the other; struggling to keep their bags secured over their wrists and shoulders as they made their way into the mirrored buildings.