April did what April does - disappoint.
Appropriately, Jim was disappointed. He yearned for good weather in April, because the month signified hope. A short reprieve from hard times, a glorious beginning to beauty and peace. April is all about promise.
Of course Jim was well aware of the fickle nature of promise. He had been around a very long time. It was always more likely that promise would go unfulfilled. God knows he had been victimized by broken promises time and time again, but he recognized that being alive came with no guarantee - no contract, no fairness, no assured happy ending.
He didn't mind. He lived his life.
Jim lived alone in a small but well kept home in the woods, in privacy and quiet. He kept it clean, neat, and in good repair. He worked in a distribution center for a major home repair supply company; he was in his 40th year there and looking forward to retirement. Six more years.
He was never one to dwell on retirement, although recent events brought the concept into sharp focus. He was a simple man who settled early on for his lot in life and did not complicate things with marriage or kids. His days were predictable, his weekends were his own - he was master of his own domain.
Today, Saturday, May 15th, Jim is sitting on his screened-in porch in 75 degree weather. Happy to be done with April, trying to hold on to May, hold on to this magnificent feeling. Such a beautiful day.
There is a Delmonico steak sizzling on the grill, a beer in his hand, birds singing all around him and nothing to do but to take it all in. He inadvertantly dropped the letter from his other hand as he daydreamed.
Jim grabbed the letter off the floor, stood and stretched lazily, speared the steak off the grill and dropped it on to the Royal Doulton dinner plate he favored. He liked to pamper himself in small ways, although he was blissfully unaware of the strange scene he created when he placed a fresh 16 ounce can of PBR next to the plate.
There was also a gun on the table. .44 magnum. "The most powerful handgun in the world and would blow your head clean off", as Dirty Harry put it. Jim bought the gun because of Dirty Harry, who he worshipped.
He re-read the letter, dated May 14th. "We are forced to downsize because of recent financial setbacks that prevent us from continuing on with business as usual. As of today you no longer work for Home Improvement Royale. You will receive one month's severance pay, but your benefits package has been terminated. We wish you the best."
Jim raised the gun to his temple and was surprised at how calm he was. The cold steel felt at odds with the warm May day. He held it there for 30 seconds, one minute, two minutes. As he did, Frank Versucci's face floated across his mind. Frank, who owned HIR, Frank who employed Jim for 40 years, Frank whose home Jim dined in many times.
The realization hit him like a left hook from Muhammad Ali. Frank is the one who deserves to die, not Jim. He was more sure of this than any other decision he had made in his life.
Jim put the gun down and took a long, satisfying swig from the ice cold PBR. He dug into his steak with enthusiasm. Might as well enjoy this beautiful weekend.
Frank was in for a big surprise come Monday morning.
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