Quiet Desperation

By Susan Parks, Judson College English Major

Harold Gossamer walked brusquely into the office, briefcase hung limply at his side, the brown leather gleaming in the fluorescent light. His brown tweed suit and muted red tie accentuated his pale face. He moved past the front desk and into the breakroom. Once inside he poured his usual cup of decaf. He liked it black. Well, he reflected, that wasn’t true, but he’d learned to like it after these years in the firm. Harold turned to the plate of donuts. Already his mouth was watering as he thought of his one pleasure in this world of chirping computers and ringing phones. His eager hand fell abruptly. The plate of donuts sat exactly where it always had. Harold quickly sorted through the remaining ones- chocolate, glazed, some blueberry. There was no sign of his donut. For a moment his mind rebelled against this new and foreign information.

Mechanically, he picked up his coffee and walked back to the outer office. As he passed each desk he checked for signs of the missing donut. He noticed Sherry wiping crumbs off her desk. She had always been rather cool to him. It went back to the Christmas party, where in a game of Yankee swap he had swipped the coffee cup she had unwrapped. Maybe today she had decided to revenge herself against him. He walked to her desk and readied himself for the confrontation. She smiled up at him. He was surprised, but not deterred, until he noticed she had something blue stuck in her teeth. Only then did he see the empty muffin wrapper on the edge of her desk.

“Good morning Mr. Gossamer.”

“Good Morning,” He answered quickly and moved away.

Harold retreated past the copy machine and through the hustle and bustle to his own domain.

As his secretary’s desk came into view he saw her and her boyfriend from Development standing close together. When she spotted him, the two broke apart. Harold stalked down the hallway toward them. They stood looking guilty. Harold’s attention was focused the other man’s face. Pink! There was something pink on the other man’s mouth. Pink like the icing on Harold’s donut! His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. He’d teach this donut thief a lesson. He opened his mouth to speak, but then he noticed his secretary was blushing. Her pink lips were pursed with embarrassment. He looked again at the flustered gentleman beside her, this time more closely. Could it be? Yes, the smudge on the corner of the young man’s mouth was the same color as his secretary’s lipstick. Harold stared past the two, wondering who else might have a motive for taking his donut.

“I’m sorry Mr. Gossamer. This won’t happen again.”

The stammering voice called Harold back from his dark musings.

“Yes, well, see that it doesn’t,” he affirmed vaguely and vanished through the open door.

Harold jerked his coat off and flung it into the chair. It swiveled with the force of the impact. He stood in the middle of the room, his forefinger and thumb massaging the bridge of his nose. Suddenly he had an idea. His face cleared and his eyes took on a feral gleam, he moved behind his desk and concentrated on the jungle of desks surrounding his lair. Harold had tinted glass in the windows of his office. He like them because they afforded him some privacy despite the mad rush going on just outside his door. Today he was especially glad for it because this allowed him to search the sea of faces like a lion looking for his prey. They all continued to work in their little cubicles, unaware that he was seeking the usurper in their midst. Eventually the phone rang and Harold was forced to abandon his hunt.

“Good afternoon...”

“Of course...”

“We’re almost finished with it. It will be on your desk by five...”

“Yes, sir...”

“Good-bye.”

As Harold hung up the phone, but he caught sight of someone coming out of the breakroom. His mouth opened in a perfect circle. It was her, the new woman they had hired. She had come highly recommended and was by all accounts doing a wonderful job. Harold sank back into his chair and put his head in his hands, careful not to disturb his hair. He was going to be fired. It was happening all over again. She had begun by taking his donut and she would end her attack by taking his job. He had worked here for years. Where would he go? What could he do?

He picked up his jacket and shrugged into it. He tossed a few papers into his case and murmuring an excuse to his secretary, he clocked out and moved blindly to the elevator. He greeted the guard and climbed wearily into his Tempo. Driving home he could feel the beginnings of heartburn from the chili he had eaten for dinner the night before. His mind was working, thinking about his step brother.

He remembered when his mother had remarried. Harold had been surprised to learn that along with a new father came a brother. One day he had come home, anticipating his usual after school cookie and glass of milk. All that had greeted him was an empty plate. “You have to share with your new brother” his mother had told him later that night.

And share he had. What began with the cookie ended many years later with his fiancée, Carol. Now it was beginning all over again. He pushed back the hurtful memories.

He pulled into the drive and stopped the car. For a long time he sat in the dark interior until the sounds of night brought him back to reality.

Finally, he staggered into the house and collapsed on the couch. He turned on the television and flipped through the channels. He finally settled on a Cary Grant movie about some crazy old ladies and let his eyes focus on the pictures and tune out the rest of the world. The only time Harold was conscious of true pain was when a Krispy Kreme commercial came on. He drifted to sleep and lay there tossing and turning until dawn. When he opened his eyes, it was morning and he forced himself to roll off of his makeshift bed. What was today? Wednesday? No, Tuesday? He checked the wall clock. He needed to be at work soon. Memory suddenly rushed back. His body swayed with its impact. He sat down again. Could he call in sick today? No. He rose and dragged his protesting body to the bathroom where he showered and shaved. His next project was the careful arrangement of the few hairs on the top of his head. When he thought it looked decent, he walked stiffly into the bedroom. He pulled out his gray suit and dressed carefully. If he was going to be replaced at work, he would go at least with style and grace.

He walked to the door and recovered his briefcase from where he had left it the night before. He went out the door and collapsed onto the front seat. Harold effortlessly navigated the early morning traffic. He parked his car in his usual parking space and entered the building. His stride became easier as he came into familiar territory.

He hesitated on the threshold of the breakroom for a moment, then he went inside. There was the boy who put out the donuts every morning. Harold nodded at him and poured his customary cup of black coffee.

“‘Mornin, Mr. Gossamer.”

“Good morning, Jimmy.”

“Sorry about not havin’ your donut yesterday, but they was all out of them at the Kreme.”

“What?”

“I didn’t get to see you yesterday, but I wanted to explain this mornin. Here ya go, just like you like it.”

“Thank you.” Harold said and reached out with a trembling hand to take his prize. He admired the colorful sprinkles that adorned the pink ruff on the squishy donut.

His face broke into a wide grin, then he clapped Jimmy on the back and went out into the office again. He moved past Sherry’s desk and she nodded formally at him. He went down the hall past his secretary , who was trying to look professional. He didn’t see either of them, his entire focus was centered on the pastry, his pastry. He rushed into his office and shut the door so that he and his donut could be alone together.