Wednesday. Not a particularly special day overall. None are, really. It all depends on your ability to spread your time efficiently to complete tasks to have fun later.
For the men and women who traverse to offices five days a week Wednesday means the middle of the week, which means the work week is nearly finished.
For me, Wednesday is my Friday. So to speak. I’m done with my weekly tasks by then. I don’t even have to set foot in the office if I don’t want to.
That’s not a perk of being the boss’s right hand man. That’s a reward for doing my job. Some might consider it kissing ass. But I never ask for those people’s opinions in the first place.
On this particular Wednesday I was returning to the office after a delicious lunch with a couple of co-workers at a local Thai restaurant some few blocks away. I was in a rather…chipper, I guess you say, mood as I sat down to a near completed flash animation about Pokemon.
Before resuming said work I logged into MySpace. There were friend requests, messages and comments waiting to be checked. Or just one of each since MySpace had yet to fix the simple bug of making things singular and plural when applicable.
I checked the comments first.
There was one from Freddy. It was an image of The Squirtle Squad but with his face along with mine, Melina, and Ralph’s in replace of the Squirtles. There was a caption: best friends stick together.
Under that was a glittery yet provocative picture of a couple appearing to be having sex. It was left by Daisy. This picture also had a caption: Happy Hump Day. What’s hump day?
I hit the home button and checked the friend requests. Two were obvious porn spam accounts which seemed to be growing at an alarming rate. One belonged to a former co-worker from my days working in the stock room.
I immediately accepted it for he had been one of a very select few that I could tolerate.
Finally, the messages. No need to hit the home button. There was one and the image of the sender made my heart beat a bit quicker.
It was Wendy. She was holding a bottle of beer in her right hand while her other arm waved in the air to an unknown song or rhythm.
There was no subject to the message. I clicked on it. The screen turned white as the algorithm for web pages changed.
The message read as follows:
I don’t know why I’m sending you this message when I should just be calling you instead. I didn’t even know you had an account. I decided to search for Ralph when I couldn’t find you directly. You’re probably not even going to read this. I know you, Johnny. I’m nothing but a fleeting memory. Perhaps I always was. I’ve had some time to think about you and I, and…well, I’m still unsure why I still love you. You weren’t very good for me or to me. I knew that from the beginning. Hell, it was evident when you were leaving New York and almost failed to tell me. I know I must have meant something to you. You’re not the kind of person to just sleep around. Or maybe you are but hide it better than most men. You’re not like most men, Johnny. That’s why I had been so attracted to you. Maybe why I still am. I know you don’t need me but I feel as if I may need you. God help me because I don’t know why. It’s a long shot but I was hoping we could give it one last chance? I’m sorry for the diner incident. That wasn’t like me in the least. Please write back if you didn’t already delete this.
Even using my mothers last name instead of my own didn’t help aide in avoiding a confrontation such as this. But it poses an interesting twist. Wendy seems rather emotionally dependent of me despite knowing I have absolutely no need for her.
I could walk this path once again or simply choose to ignore it.
I hit reply.
“Your apology for threatening my life is accepted. Your hope that the two of us might rekindle a flame that never quite burned in the first place, isn’t. It must be humiliating for you to have written such a message given the facts you presented yet still went forward. It is best you forget about me and the idea of us. I do not love you. I was very much annoyed by you, for the most part. Do not contact me again. For your own sake. It is nothing but a waste of your time.”
I hit send and then logged off.
Half an hour later my work was complete which meant I had a four-day weekend while receiving an entire weeks pay.
There was an hour left to the official work day. Before leaving the office I logged back on to MySpace. The ‘new message’ icon was the only notification. I clicked it.
The screen changed pages and returned to my inbox. The message was from Wendy. Sighing, I opened the message.
I know about Sofia. If you don’t meet me tomorrow for lunch you will be exposed.
I don’t know what a heart attack feels like but after reading her message, I was pretty sure I was having one.