Harley
Before the day of the interview.
They were broke, not cute artistic broke but the broke that made your parents sigh and your friend's wince before saying,
"It's fine, you'll be back on your feet in no time.".
Harley hadn't planned it but being unemployed in your thirties was like a marker for either a midlife crisis or being an utterly talentless and unmotivated failure. Honestly, he felt like both.
The day he'd quit it felt like the heavens had opened and life was in colour for a moment but that was before his husband had looked at him like he was a buffoon, and before he got a rejection letter from McDonalds.
The whistling of the kettle broke his melancholy thoughts or was it the feeling on his necktie cutting off circulation to my brain -
'either was fine.'
"Someone looks utterly delicious" Derek remarked wrapping his arms around Harley's waist a familiar warmth enveloping him, Harley's white dress shirt crinkling under his touch.
Harley never much appreciated how he spoke so obscenely in front of they're daughter who had discovered the importance of headphones in that moment. Maybe he was a prude? The puritan catholic teachings never quite leaving his bones,
"Is it too much? It was the only thing on sale, and you know I haven't worn a suit since graduation." 10 years ago, that depressing fact was omitted from the conversation and his brain with great effort.
Wriggling out of his grasp Harley moved behind the island table and felt the wooden kitchen floor creak as he grabbed three mugs from the overhead cream cabinets. There were two separate rows of cups, Harley's a row of neatly arranged all cream coloured cups with strips of pastel colours lined horizontally.
The second was a dump of wildly coloured movie themed mugs that were called cups some as big as bowls. Harley gave up grabbing three and just grabbed his own.
Dressed in a police uniform, Derek's ginger hair haphazardly brushed he stood slightly below Harley with a lazy smile, it made Harley feel like he was the only one getting those overdue bill notices.
"You look great, very professional." Derek remarked taking out some bowls and pouring cereal before placing it in front of their daughter, lifting her headphones off her similarly auburn hair.
So much sugar, Harley put the boiling water into his mug and sipped it, burning his tongue.
"Yeah, dad very professional," Summer remarked easily shoving a spoonful of cereal into her mouth before adverting her eyes back to her lifeline - her phone. Harley had never considered himself to be as bothered as other parents about his child's technology use, in his mind people were all either addicted to something or dead inside. He preferred her being the latter.
"See you look great," Derek said downing the last of his cereal ad dumping it into the sink.
'Shit I just finished the dishes,'
shrugging on his jacket Derek announced "I'll take summer to school and see you after my shift later tonight." Grabbing the keys in the basket and his badge before grabbing his empty waist band.
He used to keep his gun in the house, but that fact had made Harley ill and had forced him to banish it outside in a small, locked hutch or his glove box anywhere away from them, and their perfect little world.
Of course, Derek had tried to remind Harley that, it was even more dangerous, and that an assailant could find the gun outside or in the car and attack them while they were unarmed but he didn't care – so the gun stays at the station now.
They both left in an unrushed manner, it made Harley relived that Summer hadn't inherited his neurotic nature as he began scrubbing his cup and the bowls putting them into the dishwasher, the table tops cleared and wiped with all-purpose cleaner. Floor mopped with a dash of bleach and then shined to perfection.
'At least the second-floor kitchen and coach area looked passable.'
The smell of bleach and lemon calming his nerves a tad.
He'd already showered twice today, and it wasn't 9am yet, once when he'd woke up and after he'd gotten a blow job from Derek,
'to be fair I should've returned the favour, but it seemed too messy, and he hadn't insisted. He never did.'
Time would not allow for another to wash off the sweat he had worked up so instead Harley headed downstairs and into the master bathroom. Turning on the faucet sink and grabbing a face towel he rubbed at my skin – my neck, face and chest.
All whipped down until his skin was red. Then, he felt fine.
Looking in the mirror one last time he was still pleasantly surprised by how good he looked the days of sleep deprivation losing against his ounce of Colombian heritage.
The walk to penguin employment was a short one if you walked briskly but Harley hated sweating, so he left an hour early for my 10:30am appointment to leave room for meandering.
Was Harley finally at the age where his knees would ache when it was about to rain? He tried to push the thought out of his mind and trudge forward.
The fallen autumn leaves littered on the pavement created a path down the residential streets with large loft buildings similar to Harley's and trees cased in metal cages in front of them with a busy road to his right.
Harley had never been able to walk with his head down his ego not allowing it so as he walked he saw mothers with prams with bundles of blankets assumed to be their babies, and the old couples that clutched each other and managed to walk slower than Harley. These sights decorated his view as the winter air blew past their ears a soft whistling softly on their walk.
Eventually reaching a one story building with a sign stacked into the dying grass at the front. The building was as bleak on the outside as it was inside, cold tile and grey wallpaper. A waiting room that rivalled a hospital in sterility but without the cleanliness.
What felt like crowds of people were squashed into the room, some homeless people that slouched on the floor in the corner nodding off, or women barely dressed arguing at the windows about their missing payments. After waiting a ridiculous amount of time in a lopsided line breathing in what smelt like vomit Harley was finally at the front. Going up to the glass window where a middle-aged woman sat pink cat eyed glasses contrasted on her tan skin framing her hollowed out eyes.
He checked in,
"Hi, I have an appointment for 10:30" Harley said, the woman didn't look up all she did was tilt her head slightly to the side and click on her computer exactly 4 times.
"Name?"
'God was she rude'.
"Harley Davis" Harley had taken his husbands name even though Derek had stressed it wasn't necessary, at the time it was an ode to his grandmother that he could keep some traditions that mattered to her, but by the time he was married she was already dead in the ground.
All it really resulted in was Harley's father whispering to his mother during the wedding reception that he "always knew he was the bitch", very sophisticated for a tenured professor.
"Room 102 down the aisle to the left".
At that Harley departed without a word and went down the dingy hallway with peeling paint and now carpeted floors that he doubted had been vacuumed since the places opening.
The door was already ajar, but Harley still knocked.
A bright slightly high pitched voice rang through.
"Come on in!", the owner of the voice was a stumpy looking man perched on a desk where his feet couldn't reach the floor. A dark black beard with streaks of white littered around and a shiny bald head, the man looked up and smiled brightly.
"Hi I have a 10:30 appointment for Harley Davis." Hating how stern he sounded as seeing the man's face waver for a moment.
"Mr Davis is so nice to meet you come take a seat!" the brightness in his voice persisted contrasting his small office littered with stacks of books and papers around him like a small city scape. He sat on a worn leather chair its back going past his head. The window directly behind him letting in the gloomy winter sun shine through.
Harley took a seat opposite him on a sofa chair closer to the ground than he would've liked making his tall frame crouch slightly.
"So back on the job market, how exciting!"
'this was going to be painful.'
"I've had a look at your file and I'm very impressed, a masters in theology and sociology we have a brainiac on our hands." the nameless munchkin waved his hands wildly as he spoke and somehow managed to pronounce both words wrong.
"I've had a look around and there are a few teaching jobs in the local area - "
"I'm not going to go into teaching Mr - ", Harley cut him off curtly leaving a pause for him to fill in the blank.
A silent moment passed.
"Oh sorry I'm Carl" Carl is particularly slow it seems.
"Mr Carl, I'd rather be on the streets than teach." He looked at Harley for a moment his mouth agape then he begun shuffling through his files frantically.
Then the crushing reality hit Harley - That's all he'd prepared.
Harley tried to stifle a sigh... he failed.
"Well I'll be honest we don't have any other roles that would suit your amazing qualifications but we do have some more exciting jobs that just came in?" his teeth were crooked.
"Sure" Harley responded fully aware of how much he sounded like an asshole, however he felt it was unreasonable that the man he was paying to help was seeking validation from him about his job.
"Alright a position just opened up at Ferenic Inc, exciting right? Well I think it is! The role is full time and the pay is... there, so that's something?"
"What will I be doing at Feneric Inc." Harley knew the name I mean who didn't in the tristate area it was one of the biggest companies that got its money from energy and all types at that, renewable and gas.
They still somehow specialised in everything, cars, appliances even being the biggest contributors to private universities and schools. They were a literal powerhouse in the business sector. So it'd be a lie to say his interest wasn't at least slightly piqued.
"You'll be working as a sanitationofficer" The earth spun a bit under Harley's feet as he tried to fight the urge to rip out Carl's throat for trying to deceive me from the big words he thought he was saying.
"A cleaner" At this point Harley had lifted his glasses with his right hand and was massaging the bridge of his nose.
"There's so much room for job growth and the Feneric group is big on bonuses and promotions!" here he goes again with the peacock hands.
"And to put it bluntly we don't have anything else." That made Harley's blood run colder than usual the hard fact that he had put myself into the situation where this was it for him, even Carl had a better job.
"When do I start?"