The sweltering burn of the Phoenix, Arizona sun scorched into the lands below it, causing rippling waves of heat in every direction. The still air just hanging there, uncomfortable and humid, it was the perfect weather combined with the ultimate defect.
Dwayne was completing his daily ritual of reading the local newspaper, stirring his coffee with one hand whilst concentrating hard on the small town's latest gossip. The front page featured a gangly teenager in a denim jacket and ripped jeans, scowling at the camera. “Man, they sure look the part these days, you can’t deny them that.”, he said quietly so himself. The caption below read:
“Boy Stabs Girlfriend to Death with a Screwdriver and Rings Cops With Her Own Phone”
“Well, you made the right call there, buddy.” he chuckled. Time refused to abate to his enjoyment of reading the day’s headlines as he was already running five minutes late for work. He took two more sips of his coffee before placing the paper on the kitchen table and hurrying over to the sink. The contents of his cup spilled down the basin, staining the edges of the plughole on its way down. He turned back, grabbed the single envelope that lay on a pile of magazines near the edge of the table and made his way quickly out of the house.
The heat hit him like a blast furnace. Irritated, he dashed to the 10 year old, light green Honda Civic parked in the driveway and opened the door. Another blast of heat from within. He jumped inside, started the ignition and lowered both windows down on either side, allowing for some brief respite before raising the windows back up and switching the cooling system on.
Paradise Valley certainly looked the part and was, most of the time, a friendly social community. He got on well with his neighbours. Jim on his left being his favourite. On an almost daily basis in the evening, he would hear the familiar “rat-ta-tat” on his front door and find Jim standing on the other side holding a six pack of Budweiser and a rental DVD from the local convenience store. “Well, what took you?” was his usual greeting of choice. But for two single, 40-somethings living way out in the suburbs of Arizona, this was about as good as it was going to get.
As he drove to work, he used a spare hand to tear open the envelope on the steering wheel and pull out the letter inside. His stomach fell the second he read the top in big, bold print.
“Network Capital - Outstanding Debt Reminder.”
He had not been keeping up with his repayments for some time now and the lending agency weren’t going to relent in the pursuit of their unclaimed dollar bills. With the air con now turned to full, he was sweating profusely more from the pressure of the situation rather than the heat of the day.
He threw the letter on one side and grabbed his phone from his trouser pocket. Resting it up against the dashboard, he dialled the number saved on his phone while simultaneously keeping one eye on the road.
“Network Capital, we’re here to help with all your financial endeavours, how may I help you today?” a friendly voice announced over the phone's loudspeaker.
“Yeah, er, this is Mr. Dwayne Shoeman. I got a letter through the post today concerning some overdue payments for my mortgage. Is there someone I can speak to about this, preferably a Mr. Dice?” he asked.
“No problem, Mr. Shoeman. I’ll just put you on hold for a second and find someone who can assist you. Please hold the line.” Dwayne had run out of excuses for late payments now. The tinny sounding country oldie playing in the background wasn't helping. The lifestyle he so desperately wanted to lead would not live up to the meagre salary he received each month, but that was the last thing on his mind when he signed on the dotted line. The house of his dreams came with a hefty price tag but he realised he only had himself to blame. After all, this was 2006 and the banks were only too ready to throw all the financial aid you required your way. And then some.
The pleasant lady returned on the line. “Mr. Shoeman?”
“Yes.” Dwayne replied.
“I’m sorry but all of our agents are busy right now, sir. Mr. Dice is away on a business trip so won’t be available until after next Thursday. Would it be OK if I got one of them to call you back in about an hour?” Dwayne felt the rising levels of tension course through his veins but managed to remain calm on the phone. “Ma’am, I’ll be at work shortly and this is a matter that needs to be sorted out as soon as possible. Can you please get someone now? I’ll wait if I have to.”
“I do apologise, sir, but it’s our policy to call back at the next convenient time if…”
“Ok, I’ve heard enough.” he said in an annoyed tone. “I’ll call back in exactly one hour.” With that, he hung up on her and slipped the phone back into his trouser pocket. He arrived at the large iron gates and pulled slowly into the car park of Scottsdale High. The place was crammed bumper to bumper given that he was already running late. He gritted his teeth as he wound his way through the maze of parked cars until eventually finding a space close to the main road. A good 10-minute walk at least to the main building.
As he took the keys out of the ignition, they started to rattle wildly in his hand. He looked down and steadied himself with a frowned focus. “Man, just take it easy.” he mumbled. “One day at a time, one hour at a time. The day will be done before you know it. Come on, champ. We got this.”
The sun felt like it was burning holes right through his epidermis as he hurried across the high school grounds. He made his way up the main steps of the building and through the open main entrance. The usually din of the morning chaos was already dying down. A few remaining students were busily rummaging through their lockers down the hall while frantically loading up their rucksacks with the books they needed. Dwayne was only too aware that he was losing track of time too frequently these days and the problem only seemed to be getting worse. The school elevator was a few yards away but the stairs were directly to his right. A preferably, quicker mode of travel, he thought. He ran lightly toward the first step when a voice called out behind him.
“Shoeman?”
He spun around and to his dismay saw Nathan Reichart, the principal of the institution and his boss.
“Yes, Nathan, I’m so sorry. I’ve had a ton of things to do at home this morning. It’s been crazy.”
“I know. Although it’s happening more than I would like it to. You’ve got a responsibility to the kids that attend here, as well as to uphold the reputation of this school. You're aware of that, right? So the "crazy" matters of the home can wait, I'm sure. Anyways, we have to talk urgently and I've got a meeting now. See me in my office straight after your class, Dwayne. Are we clear?”
His first instinct was to tell Nathan to go fuck himself, but common sense prevailed. “Yeah, sure, Nathan.” He always considered himself a well-rounded, respected professional throughout his teaching career yet now felt like the disobedient infant being reprimanded by his all-knowing father. He could have puked with disgust.
Nathan stared at him for a second more than Dwayne would have liked and paced angrily back down the hall. He looked down at his watch.
9.20am, 20 minutes late again.
He loped up the concentrically laid stairs two steps at a time, turning clumsily at each corner until he reached the second floor. Out of breath and panting like a dog, he walked wearily toward the classroom door. Through the Perspex acrylic sheet divide, he could just about make out the vague shapes of his students sitting in their seats, waiting for him to enter.
“Morning, sir.”, was the chorus of greetings he was met with as he made his way to the desk.
“Yes, morning, everybody. My apologies for being late. Now, get your textbook out and turn to page 134.”
“What happened, sir?” someone called out from the back of the class. Dwayne peered over his desk to find Gina Bailey grinning back at him. The last thing he needed today was any trouble from Gina. The classroom went dead silent as they awaited his response.
“Nothing, Gina. Now be a good girl and turn to page 144. Thank you.”
She looked at him lazily but full of attitude, whilst curling a strand of blond hair around with the end of her pen. “Don’t you mean… 134?”
“What?” asked Dwayne with a undertone of annoyance.
“Well, you asked us to turn to page 134 when you entered the class and now you’re asking us to turn to page 144. Which is it, Dwayne?”
He stood up straight, bristling, and glared at her in anger. “Turn to page 134 and address me as Mr. Shoeman, you got that?”
About thirty pairs of eyes watched the drama unfold with a rising sense of excitement as to what will happen next. They all knew of the escalating hostility in he last couple of days between Dwayne and Gina and how she is not exactly one to forgive or forget very easily.
“I’m sorry.” she replied in a remorseful but sarcastic manner. “I didn’t mean to cause any offence, Mr. Shitman.”
The students burst into laughter as her broad, malicious smile said it all. In a fit of rage, Dwayne strode up to her and yelled at the top of his voice. “DO YOU WANT ANOTHER DETENTION AT THE END OF THE DAY? SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT EVER AGAIN AND I PROMISE YOU I’LL BOOK YOU IN FOR THE REST OF THE MONTH! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?”
You could hear a pin drop. The stunned silence was only equalled by the look of horror on Gina’s face. This day was turning out to be a whole lot worse than he could have ever expected. The pair didn’t speak for what appeared to be an eternity, but was more like a mere few seconds. The standoff was then brought to an abrupt end by the sound of his ringtone. With all the hectic shenanigans of the day from earlier on this morning, he had forgotten to switch it to vibrate only. Britney Spears “Hit Me Baby One More Time” blared from his trouser pocket. The earth could have opened and swallowed him whole, welcomingly.
A roar of laughter split the cold calm of a few moments ago. Dwayne's eyes darted around the room to catch quick glimpses of the so-called ones he was responsible for, the loud cackling pouring from their stinking mouths into his ears helplessly. The class had turned into sheer bedlam and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. Red-faced, he turned back to Gina who immediately clasped onto her breasts through her school uniform and jiggled them about saying “Is that what you listen to when you jerk off at home, sir? Can I help you with that?”
Psychosis took over, a feeling of being possessed by some inner demon set free to do Dwayne’s bidding. He stretched his arm high above his head and in a circular motion, swung it straight into Gina’s face, open palmed. She flew into the desk next to her, nearly toppling the student over as well before crashing on to the floor in a crumpled heap.
Again, complete silence restored. But this time at what cost? Whatever demon had overthrown his capacity of thought a minute ago took a swift exit. He looked on at his handy work. She was not moving yet three other girls almost simultaneously leapt out of their seats to comfort her. “What the hell is wrong with you!” one girl screamed at him as he watched on in fear and dread.
The sequence of events from when he first opened his eyes this morning was leading up to this climactic moment. Life’s plan was laughing in his face and brought everyone else to cheer on and gloat. Upon reflection, everything unravelled so fast in his minds eye. He had no time to think or comprehend all that had transpired in just a few short hours. The rage of a few seconds ago was now all but gone. Gina stirred, helped up by her three friends. In a daze, she raised her head up and a lingering trail of blood ran down the side of her chin.
At the same time, he noticed a teacher shouting for help by the entrance to the classroom. How long he had been standing there by the door, Dwayne could not tell. His senses dulled down to a minute whisper, he just existed, lost in a sea of confusion.
“Dwayne! Wake up, man! DWAYNE!”
(To be continued...)
