Lost Self

Josh sits on the couch, rubbing his forehead. He looks at the ceiling, thinking back to the therapy session earlier that day. The same three questions came up every time, over and over again. 

Have you been working on yourself lately? No, not really. 

How often do you feel stressed? All the time.

How have you been feeling lately? Tired. That’s how he’s been feeling. So damn tired. 

Josh finally has the apartment to himself today, since the nanny took his daughter to the park, and his wife doesn’t come back from work until later that night. He closes his eyes, relaxes his shoulders, takes a deep breath, and the house phone rings. Josh sighs, knowing only one person calls the house phone anymore. He walks over to the table near the kitchen, bracing himself before picking up the phone.

“Hey mom, how are you doing?”

“Oh Josh, it’s been a while since we’ve talked! Ever since you started that job at that finance place, I’ve barely heard from you.”

“Yea, I’ve been pretty busy, with clients… and stuff.” 

“Oh dear, you’re always working so hard.” She sighs. “What do you do there again?” 

Josh breathes in deeply. “I’m a financial consultant Ma. I… help clients spend their money better, whether it’s with retirement, stocks, or general financial advice.” 

“Oh, that’s good, that’s good. It’s a good thing that you like helping others. Isn’t that what your father used to do?”

“Ma, please don’t mention-” says Josh, putting his hand over his face.

“You know, your father used to be such a respectable man. He used to work so hard, and come home every night for dinner. He would take us out every weekend, and never missed a single week. Then he just decided to walk away one day. I don’t know what got into him…”

Josh pulls on his face while listening to his mother. Thankfully, he hears his work phone ringing in the background.  “Ma, Ma! Listen- uh I need to pick up a call from a client. I’ll talk to you later, ok? Love you bye.”  Josh is grateful that he had an actual excuse to hang up on her this time. He walks over towards the other table, where his work phone is. He notices that Miranda, one of his older clients, was calling. Miranda was one of those clients who talked just as much, if not more, than his mother. Josh sighs, wondering why he took in this client from his mentor, and picks up the phone.

Josh is sitting on the couch, his head resting on the top of the couch cushion, snoring occasionally. His empty glass of whisky sat on the coffee table, his fingers barely grasping the glass. His daughter, Tristana, is wide awake, watching the people on the TV trying to sell some useless junk. 

Josh’s wife walks in, sighing as she puts away her keys and takes off her high heels, with some letters and a magazine in hand. 

“Did you forget to check the mail when you came back? Why didn’t you go get it?” 

 She peers into the living room, seeing Josh snoring, and Tristana wide awake. She leaves the mail and magazine on the kitchen table. 

“Tristy, why are you still up? It’s almost 1 in the morning!”

“When me and Nana came back, daddy was sleeping on the couch. After me and Nana ate, daddy was still sleeping on the couch. I wanted to watch TV, but Nana said she had to go.”

Josh’s wife sighs, “Tristy, you can’t just stay up because your father didn’t take you to bed. You’re only 8, you shouldn’t be up so late.” 

Josh wakes up, rubbing his eyes, looking around the room. Josh’s wife sighs and walks past Josh, picking up Tristana. Josh turns around to face them.

“Heyy! How was work?”

Maya tilts her head, giving Josh that look. “Really? Did you not notice that your daughter is supposed to sleep at 9:30? Or were you just too busy drinking?”

“Listen,” Josh stands up slowly, making sure he doesn’t fall. “…you know how hard my day was. Clients were calling, I got stressed, and my mother had to mention my dad again.” He pauses, timidly staring back into her death gaze. “Ok look, for some reason, I was getting this terrible hunger. Not like I’m actually hungry, but like I get these… images of something in my head. It’s so blurry, but it’s deep, and tender to touch…”

Maya scoffs, “If you’re saying what I think you’re saying, there’s no chance you’re getting that tonight. I’m way too exhausted.” 

“No, listen– it’s not that. It’s… you know what? Whatever!” says Josh, flinging his arms in the air.

Maya shakes her head. “With all your talk about this “hunger”, and especially with the drinking, you’re starting to sound like your father.”

“Don’t you compare me to that fu-”

Maya covers his mouth, gripping it with a surprising strength. “No. Not in front of her. You know better.”

Josh grinds his teeth, and clenches his fists. Maya walks away, probably taking Tristana to bed. Josh turns around and stares at the magazine. He leans over, seeing the cover of a celebrity who recently got into controversy after an alleged affair. It reads, Does he hide anything else? The untold story inside!

Josh comes back from work, opening his apartment door, getting hit in the face with the smell of stew and the sound of a speaker blasting bachata. The nanny, Yolanda, was cooking in the kitchen, while Tristana was watching Spongebob in the living room. 

“What are you making?” 

“¿Que?” 

Josh raises his voice a bit louder, “I said, what are you making?”  

“¿Como fue?” 

“Look–why don’t you turn that shit down first?”

Yolanda tilts her head, her mouth lifted to the side in confusion. Josh stomps over to the speaker, aggressively turning down the volume. Josh turns to Yolanda, who has her hands on her hips. He sighs.

“What are you making?”

“I was making some sancocho— it’s ahh– beef stew with some vegetables and other things. It’s really good. I know because I make it.” Yolanda lets out a hearty laugh, almost sounding like a witch.

“Thanks, I’ll have some when it’s done.” Josh walks over to the living room, dropping on the couch next to Tristana, who was trying to look like she was angry. 

“Why were you yelling at Yolanda?”

“It wasn’t yelling, she had the music all the way up. Nobody could hear each other!”

“You’re too loud!” Tristana says, covering her ears. 

Josh takes a deep breath. “Sorry.”

He looks at the TV, feeling Tristana still glaring at him. He shifts his attention from the TV to his daughter, who had her arms crossed.

“What?”

Tristana puts on her grumpy face. “You don’t pay attention to me and mommy.” 

“Wha- Of course I do!”

“Then watch a movie with me and mommy.”

“Ok sure, when?”

“Tuesday.”

“Tuesday? Why Tuesday? I have work, you have school, and your mother also has to work!”

“You’re yelling again.” Tristana covers her ears, again.

“Alright, whatever. I’ll watch the movie on Tuesday. What movie is it anyhow?”

“It’s the Spongebob movie! They’re showing it on TV at 8pm.”

Josh stares at Tristana and shakes his head. Sinking into the couch, he stares at the TV, until he closes his eyes, thinking about how he had also begged his father before. 

It was on a Friday morning, when he was 8 years old, and he had just saved up enough money over a year, with the allowance that his dad used to give him each month. Then, after counting each quarter, Josh counted in total: 16 quarters, which made $4; enough to rent Mrs. Doubtfire on VHS for at least 3 days. Josh kept doing small hops around his room, pouring all the coins back into his blue piggy bank; because pink was for girls. On the drive to school, Josh kept on asking his dad to see the movie with him, since he was always at work. After asking 24 times– Josh counted– his dad reluctantly agreed, even saying that he might get out work early. After school, Josh ran to the nearest Blockbuster, got the movie, and ran home to wait until his dad came back from work, barely being able to contain himself.

The hours passed by, and Josh waited by the window, watching the sun fall all the way down. His mother called Josh over to have dinner, but Josh waited expectantly, maybe his Dad was taking a bit longer this time, maybe he was playing a small prank. Josh’s mother put her hand on his shoulder, tugging his shirt so he could eat. Josh kept looking towards the window as his mother picked him up, and sat him down on the chair across from his mother’s seat; the seat where his dad usually sat. Josh thought that he would wait, that he would go hungry until his dad came back, it didn’t make sense that his dad wouldn’t forget. He was so sure that this time, his dad wouldn’t break this promise, and kept anxiously waiting, staring at the brown shut door.

The door opens, and Josh’s wife walks in, calling Josh over to enjoy the dinner that the nanny made. Josh gets up from the couch, and walks over sluggishly towards the kitchen table. He pays Yolanda $150, and sits down at the table, staring at his family eating the stew. He smiles to himself, and starts enjoying his meal.

Josh goes to work, feeling a bit better this time. He wasn’t looking forward to talking with clients for hours and hours on the phone, but something about the office building he works at intrigued him, enough for him to keep working at the place. Josh kept thinking how to others, it seemed like a regular office building, but yet, Josh can’t get over how the building towers over him, seemingly looking down at him from above. This used to intimidate him, but thankfully, Josh has gotten up the work ladder quite a bit; Instead of working from a cubicle, like most of his coworkers, he actually managed to get his own personal office, with a clear door with a lock at the foot of the door, a silver name plate at head level, and two filing cabinets inside his office. 

Josh unlocks his office, and tucks the key into his chest pocket, walking in with a proud stance, and sits down on his chair. As he turns on his computer, he grabs one of the himalayan salt rocks from his desk lamp. Hearing how it’s supposed to promote positivity, he wonders if he can bite it for an extra effect. He tries to pick off a small corner with his teeth, but he gets a call as soon as his computer finishes booting up.

After a few hours, Josh leans back on his chair, slightly exhausted from constantly speaking with clients. He decides he should eat before calls start picking up again, but gets one more call right when he is at the door, from Miranda. After an agonizing 45 minutes, he goes to a corner deli, argues with the store clerk for messing up his order twice, and gets a gyro with melted mozzarella cheese, onions, and roast beef. 

He walks into the break room, tired and stressed out, looking to get some iced coffee with his gyro. Patrick, his mentor, is sitting down at the small round table. Patrick motions Josh to sit, pushing out the chair next to him. Josh stares at him, waiting for the coffee machine to finish making his coffee. After making his coffee, Josh sits down in front of Patrick.

“How’s it going kid?” 

“Well, I got lots of calls today,” Josh takes a big bite out of his gyro, a few pieces of onions dropping on the table. 

Patrick looks at the onions on the table. “I see.”

Josh finishes chewing the piece of food in his mouth. “I get tired talking to these people sometimes. Especially with Miranda. ”

“Oh she’s not that bad. She’s my mother, you know?” 

“I… did not know that was your mother. I’m sorry.”

Patrick chuckles. “I’m just messing with you. She’s actually my aunt; I wanted to see how you would deal with someone who talked as much as she did.”

“Well, hopefully I’ll do a better job at saving my time, just as I save them money.”

Patrick smiles. “Would you like to grab a drink? I got a nice spot, for –you know– guys like us.” 

“Uh, yeah sure, when?” 

“We can go tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” 

“Yea yea, y’know, Tuesday’s are the new Friday’s! Or so they say.” Patrick extends his hand towards Josh, forcibly shaking his hand before he could say anything. “Great! I’ll call you tomorrow, I can take you there after work.” Patrick walks out the room. “Talk to you tomorrow, kid.”

Josh blinks in confusion for a few seconds, and then looks at his clothes, realizing that Patrick’s violent handshake made some greasy onions fall on his white shirt. Josh takes another bite of his gyro, wondering if would have enough time to watch the movie with his family. He thought about where Patrick would take him. He knew it would probably be some place in Manhattan, but he was trying to figure out if it was going to be a bar, or some sort of Jazz Club. Patrick was the Senior Advisor at the firm, and he’s been working there about 30 years of his life. Safe to say, Patrick made way more than Josh did, way more than Josh could ever make. He wouldn’t be able to achieve the excellence that Patrick did, not in 30 years, 40 years, or more. Josh wasn’t as passionate as him, and would probably never be even half of that. Josh did have one thing going for him: he wasn’t like his father, at least he didn’t think he was.

On his way back from work, Josh stands on the crowded subway, looking at how the greasy onions stained his shirt. Josh wets his finger with his tongue, and then tries to rub off the stain, without any luck. He begins to grow frustrated, rubbing at his shirt, until an asshole bumps into Josh, making him bump into someone else. Josh looks up to apologize, but stops as he sees a younger, white skinny lady, wearing a skirt that he thought was too short. Catching a whiff of her scent, Josh is paralyzed, stunned at the beauty in front of him, staring at the blonde, hypnotizing wavy hair of the woman. Possibly out of concern that another creep was swooning over her, the young woman gets off as soon as the doors open, with Josh still staring.

Slightly embarrassed, Josh turns around and holds the bar with his other hand. He looks around to see if he was getting any dirty looks, and ends up getting off at the next stop, walking a bit further to get to his apartment, just so he would avoid any extra potential shame.

Tuesday after work, Patrick picks up Josh in his car, a chrome sports car with custom rims. Patrick cuts people off and speeds whenever he can, even though they left work early at 5. Josh holds the roof handle, and grabs the side of his seat with his other hand. 

When they somehow arrive in one piece, they park in an empty space behind a building, Josh taking a moment to breathe. After calming himself down, he comes out of the car, noticing neon lights from the side of the building, and a motel on the other side of the street. Patrick signals Josh to come to the side door, where there is a tall, burly man guarding the door. Security pats Patrick and Josh down, and lets them in after checking their IDs. Josh looks around curiously, wondering why this bar looked so off.

“What is this place?” Josh asks.

“This is Sapphire. My favorite place to drink and meet with clients.” Patrick responds.

While Josh processes what Patrick was saying, they walk through the hallway hearing loud EDM music, neon lights around the inside, a pole in the middle, and girls wearing nothing but thongs and pasties walking around. Josh’s eyes widen as he figures out what he just walked into, occasionally sneaking in a couple of glances here and there. Patrick walks to one of the booths, one with a “reserved” sign on the table. Josh reluctantly follows Patrick to their table. They sit down, and two girls with large chests walk over, asking if they want something to drink. Josh settles for a bottle of beer, while Patrick orders a bottle of whisky. As soon as the girls leave to put the order in, Josh turns to Patrick.

“I thought there was a thing about not mixing business with pleasure.”

“That’s just if you’re dealing with clients; when it’s just us, it’s fair game.”

Josh stares at Patrick, making Patrick stare back for a minute.

“What’re you staring at me for? There’s plenty of pairs of good tits right in front of us! And some good ass as well.”

Josh is stunned, still staring at Patrick, more intently this time, until the girls put their drinks on the table. They both grab their drinks, and Josh looks towards the dancer at the pole, swishing his glass around, and starts sipping his beer.

After a while, both Josh and Patrick are both plastered, halfway down the bottle of whisky. They’re having a great time, finally away from the stress of home and work, talking about different experiences they’ve had with women.

“–and that’s why you always wear a condom when you fuck a hooker!” says Patrick, while Josh chuckles at Patrick’s story. Patrick takes another swig of his whisky, and slams it down, spilling a bit on the table. “You know what? I know a couple of babes here that’ll give us some pussy for just a Franklin. Two and a half if you wanna do it raw.”

Josh hesitates. “It’s tempting, but ahh– I don’t know” Josh looks at his phone, noticing it’s 7:23 PM. “I gotta get back home at 8.”

“C’mon!” Patrick shouts loudly, slightly startling Josh. “Are you going back to your family this drunk? They’ll be mortified!” observing Josh, Patrick puts on his smug smile. “Look how about this; since you have to stay here anyways, I’ll pay for the best two pieces of pussy I know, just for you! You gotta live while you’re still young!”

Josh, in his drunken stupor, was feeling it more than usual. Josh turns to Patrick and shakes his hand. Patrick lets out a laugh, and then snaps his fingers at one of the ladies walking by, and raises two fingers, tilting his head towards Josh. The lady stares at Patrick, then Josh, and walks into the back. She comes back with two women; one dark-skinned with long black hair and nice legs, wearing a string bikini. The other was a white, blond, skinny woman, wearing a skirt that he thought was quite too short. 

“Since you’re new, there’s some things you should know.” the dark-skinned one said, looking at Josh. “Don’t tell anyone about this side thing. You want a service, we offer it.” 

Josh nodded his head, and the dark-skinned one took Josh’s left hand. She stops, looking at the ring on his finger. She starts to put Josh’s hand down, stopped by Patrick waving $400 in her face. She gives him a side-eye, until the blond one grabs the money. 

“Follow me honey.” she says to Josh.

“Amber. Don’t.” 

The blonde one stops for a moment, looking back at the dark-skinned one. She sighs, and grabs Josh’s hand, guiding him outside of the club, towards the motel. 

They arrive at the motel, the blonde woman looks and smiles at the man sitting in the reception, dragging Josh up the stairs. They enter the room, Josh being pushed towards the bed. Their lips touch, and Josh starts taking his clothes off, the blonde one taking off hers.

After an hour, Josh and Amber sit by the edge of the bed, their clothes scattered across the room. Josh has his hands in his face. Amber covers her breasts with her arms.

“I’m sorry.” Josh mumbles.

“We offered the service, and you accepted it.”

“I didn’t even mean to-“Josh pauses.

Amber puts on her clothes. 

“By the way… finishing inside costs extra.”

Josh stays silent. Amber slams the door. 

Josh doesn’t want to move, feeling ill, as if he had a terrible meal.

Josh stares at the window, then decides it’s time to leave.

After a long walk, Josh stops in front of his apartment building, he checks his phone, seeing that it’s close to midnight. He looks upward, the building towers over him, Josh feeling someone stare him down from above. He catches a glimpse of a small child at a window, staring down into the distance. Josh thought he recognized that stare, the stare of a waiting child, but noticed the child’s smile. Josh turned around to a black car behind him, pulling into the building parking lot. Josh looked back at where the child was, noticing that he already disappeared from the window, just like he was never waiting at all. 

Josh looks down at the entrance, wondering if his father had stood right where he stood, looking straight at the brown shut door. Was he just as bad? Did Josh ever really care about his family? Why even bother to do anything different? He was just like his father: they both had the same job, both had disappointed their families, both had stepped on broken promises.

He couldn’t move, paralyzed by his indecisiveness. Josh didn’t know which path he should choose, whether to go back upstairs with his family, or follow the same path as his father did. His heart grew anxious, and he couldn’t stand to see himself in the eyes of his family, the family that he was stepping away from. But he stopped, he now knew he was still too young to follow those footsteps. Too young to make such a heavy decision, yet young enough to make such a terrible mistake. He looks up at the door, with a heavy heart, deciding it was best to show up to a broken promise, rather than to never be there at all.