His Unexpected Baby by Jamie Knight
Chapter Two - Simon
The thump of my feet matched the pounding of my heart. I was running aimlessly with no particular goal in the mind other than fighting the middle-aged spread before it could start.
Both my dad and grandad had been spry and sprightly until they finally keeled over, the sand in their hourglass just running out. And how big that hourglasses must have been. Grandad was almost 100 when he joined the choir invisible and my dad lasted until age 95 but his fact-paced lifestyle eventually took a toll on his heart, strong as it was.
I wasn’t there at the time, Dad always flying off somewhere beautiful to do something crazy. But according to eye-witness reports, backed up by that of the coroner, the old fella had been hit with a massive heart-attack while mid-glide, minutes after B.AS.E. jumping from the highest cliff he could find, Mt. Everest being off season and not able to get a permit for Kilimanjaro.
The blast beats thundered, the melodic guitars driving me on like a hyperactive sled dog as I ran as quickly as I could, despite not actually going anywhere at all. Then the alarm I had set to notify me of the end of my work out went up like an air raid siren, heralding the coming of the cool down period.
The treadmill eased down from a panicked bolt to a Sunday stroll, my heart rate following suit. It might well quicken up again when I got into the shower.
Icy water like a melted glacier cascaded down onto my prone skin, easing the ache my muscles felt from the hard work out and putting all my nerves on high alert as they started rebounding from the beating I’d just given them. Some in my position used cocaine to perk up. But I preferred endorphins, which in addition to being free, were also a lot less dangerous. Rarely had I heard of anyone over-dosing on exercise.
Wrapped in one of the Egyptian cotton towels I’d gotten as a housewarming gift, I noticed that the inventory of berries available in the fridge were duly plundered, along with no small portion of banana and orange juice. Once whatever was left was joined in happy harmony in the efficiently German stainless steel blender, I pushed the button and unleashed the high vitamin twister.
After stowing what was left in the uncannily modern Freon-free fridge in order to save some time later, I took a drink. The concoction flowed down my throat in the sweetest waterfall, pleasing my tongue at the same time that it nurtured my stomach.
Fighting the inevitable brain freeze, I counted backwards from a thousand, paying careful attention to each number as it passed in smooth succession, once again reassuring me that my mental faculties were indeed intact. You could never be too careful with all the additives being put into nearly everything these days.
I wasn’t paranoid, per se. More like possessed of a reasonable caution based on a scientific fact.
The towel furled away like a loose flag as I traversed the bedroom, glorying in the feeling of full nature. It was what my hippie, pagan parents called being starkers. Or ‘naked,’ to put it bluntly.
Standing in the full glory of the creators' gifts, I opened my wardrobe. Antique and distinctly Narnian in design, it always put me in mind of my boyhood adventures at my grandparent’s place upstate. It had been a world so separate from the forced civility of the city that it felt as though there had been an air of magic about it.
There were even tales, mostly online in the same forums that went on and on about SlederMan, of a town tucked away in the wilds made up almost entirely of paranormal creatures, with regular mortal humans like me making up only 10% of the population.
It didn’t seem likely, but anything was possible. In my experience, people like my folks could do ten allegedly ‘impossible’ things before breakfast.
The choice of possible clothes to wear was dizzying but no less surmountable. Neatly divided by clearly marked signs, the pre-set suits stood in line like loyal sentinels awaiting inspection by their emperor. After I opted for traditional black, it was then a simple matter of wrestling my newly revived body into the tailored silk lining.
Most of what I had, including the condo, were perks of birth. While my mom was a hippie and managed to coax my dad in that direction as well, they were both from families that could best be described as filthy rich. Some would argue that ‘idle rich’ would be kinder, but it was in no way accurate.
The alarm tweeted its happy tune as I approached the beloved beast. It had taken some doing to get an alarm system put into a 1945 BMW, but persistence won out in the end.
While there were millions of non-drivers in the Big Apple, the subway being a viable option for most, there was still no shortage of vehicles on the busy streets. I wouldn’t have driven myself were it not for the fact that trying to take the subway always made me late. As though granted a wish by my fairy godfather, the switch from subway to driving took me from getting in five minutes late every morning to arriving just after the receptionists had unlocked the doors.
Others in my position would have had a driver, for plausible deniability if anything else. But alas, my fiercely independent nature made me want to drive my own bus, so to speak, in all aspects of life.
The only exception to this otherwise ironclad rule were those above me at work. Mostly because I was barely aware that they were there. As long as my department made more money than it lost, I didn’t hear a peep out of them.
There were still a few company-wide regulations that applied to everyone, including the department heads. Except this was a bit like an empire having a law for all its subjects with no practical mode of monitoring or enforcement that law. I didn’t do well with illogical rules in general and it was a relief not to have too many of them to deal with and try to get around.
The fine beast inched onto the road, ever cautious of oncoming traffic. Hitting my tempo at just the right time, I pulled out right before a maniac could try and take the front end off with their SUV.
Everything in life had a degree of risk and, as far as I could tell, driving was also safer than taking the subway. Accidents happened, but when they did, both parties were already in a metal box.
It was also much harder to get knifed while in the car with the windows up than on the G-line at midnight. It all came down to a matter of degrees.
It was almost a law of the universe. Just as the phone will always ring right when you step into the shower, the closer you get to the city, the thicker the traffic became, inevitably getting to the point of reaching a complete standstill. The city road started to more closely resemble a very long parking lot after a while.
I’d never been terribly religious, but if there was someone up there with a timetable directing traffic, it didn’t include getting me to the office on time today. Everything else had gone exactly right. I’d even left early enough in the morning to beat the traffic, at least on any other day.
The only explanation that made any sense was divine intervention, as if giant words were written in the sky saying NOT TODAY, SIMON. But since I was the head of an editing department, I could come in whenever I wanted. I would just prefer to arrive earlier than I was certainly going to arrive today.
Shops and restaurants of all types called me like sirens on the rocks as I drove towards the office, their undoubtedly tempting smells deflected by the windows. I didn’t have a great reason for wanting to go in and sample their wares.
My metabolism was high enough that I didn’t have to worry about the calories. It also wasn’t a matter of hunger, the smoothie specially formulated to give me everything I needed for a long morning.
The thing pulling me off track that morning had as much to do with habit as anything else. The primal need to chew, based on a lifetime of eating for comfort.
After I took a stick of gum from the pack sticking up out of the ashtray, relief came quick, washing over me in an awesome wave. All craving for food or any thought of it scattered like autumn leaves on a strong wind.
Jutting up into the sky like a post-modern obelisk, I saw the tower where the office was located. I didn’t know what madness had inspired the original architecture, but I had to admit that the structure had a kind of sinister charm.
I was finally within viewing distance of my destination, and ready to put in a hard day’s work at the office.
