For April

Part 1

It was late November and the weather had been murkier than usual lately. There'd been a storm from the last few days, leaving scattered tree branches in its wake. But strangely enough, today was different. The sun started to peek out from the clouds, illuminating the bridges and skyline, signaling the end of the Seattle storm. The storm had passed and the autumn leaves caught onto car windows and piled up on street corners. But despite my reluctance, I had the unfortunate duty of going to work to sit in an office to read file after file.

There were also those rare occasions when I got to hear snippets of angry ex-couples arguing about who would be getting custody of this property or that child. In the legal system, both were practically dealt with in the same manner. It was like watching reality TV at a really low volume or playing a game of charades. It always became a spectacle when things got really heated. Employees would find just about any excuse to cruise past what we called "the interrogation room" just to watch a snippet of the action. We all loved trying to create a story of our own when we clearly couldn't hear the actual words being spoken. The best story was always the craziest, like the story about a woman being in love with her husband's brother who was actually gay. None of it was true and maybe it was borderline offensive but it still made for a great laugh, just like any other messed-up soap opera. I was just glad I wasn't married yet. Did you know half of all married couples get divorced? And all of those couples end up in that room, or one like it, audibly yelling their asses off with their hands flailing in the air fighting about God-knows-what. It's not that their issues didn't matter or didn't have any significance, I'm sure they did. I'd just hate to be the one to have to deal with it.

If I never got married, I'd never have to get divorced. I would just stay single for the rest of my life if it weren't for the my mother repeatedly telling me how she'd love to be a grandmother someday. It was all she ever talked about and she was always setting me up on blind dates with her, quote unquote friend's nephew's son. This all coming from a woman who's on husband number three. I'm just surprised there was anyone else left for her to offer up to me. I've met a lot of men; all incompetent or not my type, whatever that really means. But I guess when I really think about it, maybe I'd like to have a husband someday. Someone to share my life with and love for the rest of my life. Someone who'll take my car to the dealership when I need an oil change, willingly. I mean, the whole helping out aspect of it applies to children so why not husbands? Either way, I still had a maximum of maybe ten more years if I still want to get married and have kids. A lot longer if I don't have kids.

It was during my routine walk to the car when I suddenly felt a cold wet sensation on my foot as my hand rested on the handle of the already open car door. I looked down only to find my foot drenched in muddy water. I looked back at my apartment building as I started to debate whether or not I should go back inside. Why the hell not, I thought as I shut the car door and ran back inside for a dry pair of shoes. It's not like it mattered whether or not I was late or not anyway, even if I did get fired, odds are I'd still live tomorrow. As I started driving, the hobo tents looked dirtier than usual against the sunlight that had started to creep out of the clouds. The meager clearing of the clouds revealed the fresh glow of the colorful graffiti written on the tunnel walls.