I tried to go back to sleep, but the random pipe banging continued, and I finally gave up. I didn't really have to report to the post office until 6:15, so I sat in the living room and flipped through channels. Most people don't watch television that early, apparently, because I don't personally know anyone who would want to watch the kind of shows they have on. I settled for some nature program about slugs, turned the volume up to hear it over the din coming from upstairs, and trudged into the kitchen to make my coffee. Turning the TV up must have woken up Xiu Li, since she was already sitting on the couch when I came back from starting the coffee maker, eyeing the slug show with a look that was either boredom or exhaustion. You never know with Xiu Li. She looked over the back of the couch, put on a smile that was too bright for this early, and said something that was drowned out by the racket from the seventh floor.
"What?" I yelled.
"What?" she yelled back.
"I said, what?"
"Oh, I just said, 'Happy birthday, Dad!'" She smiled again.
Right! I knew that. I suppose 33 is old, since I've started forgetting my own birthdays now. "Thanks," I said, and tried to echo her smile, but failed miserably and ended up coughing. She eyed me curiously. "You forty yet?"
I glared. "Thirty-three, you little smartass."
She gasped in mock offense. I grinned at her. "Do you have practice this morning?"
"Yeah, I have to leave in a little bit. I should probably go shower."
"Wouldn't it make more sense to shower after swimming?"
I meant the question honestly, but she took it as sarcasm, and rolled her eyes at me before exiting the room. Oh well. I remembered my coffee, went into the kitchen, and paced around until it finished. After a sleepy eternity, I got my coffee and walked back into the living room, where the credits were rolling from the slug program. I turned off the TV and drank my coffee in silence, thinking. I felt old, being 33. I know that makes no sense. Most of Xiu Li's friends' parents are well into their forties. They don't really know what to make of me, really. The only thing I have in common with them is a fifteen-year-old daughter.
I finished my coffee and left the cup in the sink. The banging must have stopped at some point, since I realized at that moment how quiet it was. By now, it was about 5:45. Xiu Li got out of the shower, hastily running a brush through her hair. (I figured that must be from habit, since she's only had it short for a couple of weeks.) She grabbed her swim bag, and rushed out the door with a quick "Happy birthday Dad! Love you!" and a slam. I thought, not for the first time, that we really should get a car. I don't like her walking around, especially not with the abandoned buildings all over the place. There are some crazy people in this neighborhood.
I pulled on my blue jacket, located my bag, and left for work. As soon as I stepped into the stairwell, I took off the jacket. We really could use some rain. I don't want to know what our bills are going to be this month with the air conditioning up so high.
I walked out the front door of the building and was greeted by a strange smell. I still can't decide exactly what it was, or even whether it was good or bad. The city usually has a distinctive scent that I try to ignore, but today was different. It smelled like a generic flowery something, with overtones of beans and the occasional hint of body odor. While I puzzled over my nose, I crossed the street and headed down the block to the post office. In the process, I found myself wishing again for a car, as one of them almost collided with a woman crossing in the opposite crosswalk. On the other hand, it'd probably just get wrecked with how people drive around here.
I arrived at work a couple minutes early, and went behind the building to get today's load of mail. The truck's sweaty smell quickly overwhelmed the baffling odor in the air, and I loaded up the heavy bins of letters into the back, forced myself to put on my jacket, and climbed in.
The weather made my daily route seem longer than usual. By the time it got to be about noon, my jacket stuck to me like its life depended on it. I considered taking it off at lunch, but feared what my shirt would smell like underneath. I finally delivered my last batch of letters, and was on the way back to the post office when one of those crazy drivers that seem to be everywhere came barreling through a red light. I swerved to avoid the maniac, running over the curb and finally coming to a stop. At least I hadn't hit anyone. I pulled over into the parking garage next to Castle Apartments, and knew from the way the truck felt (not to mention the ominous hissing noise) that I had a flat. By this time I was pretty upset. I've been working for the post office since I was sixteen, and I've never had any sort of incident with the trucks before. I hoped they wouldn't make me pay the damage, but I had a sinking feeling about that particular matter. Thankfully, I had exhausted the day's mail supply, and I would have no trouble getting to the --
Spare tire. Which, apparently, there wasn't. I sighed, and called the post office. Melinda picked up on the second ring.
"Hello?"
"This is Renshu. Some maniac curbed me and now I've got a flat."
"Excuse me?"
"I have a flat tire on the mail truck."
"Oh." She sounded flustered. "Well, where are you? I'll just ask someone to come get you."
"In the parking garage next to the apartment buildings. Not too far."
She didn't respond. In the background, I heard some yelling, and then she came back on the line.
"Jeff's going to come pick you up. Hold on."
"Thanks, Melinda."
"No problem," she said, and hung up.
I sat on the wall next to my truck, staring at a red graffiti drawing on the wall opposite me. I couldn't decipher if it was an oddly suggestive drawing of a bird or the word 'potato' with an extra T. It really was starting to bother me when I realized I would be late getting home. I took out my phone and called Xiu Li. Her phone went straight to voicemail. I left her a message telling her about the flat, hung up, and wondered absentmindedly if I had given her the extra key. At this moment, Jeff pulled up in his mail truck, and hopped out.
He came right over to the truck and took a look.
"Yup. It's a flat," he commented, and spit on it as if that was supposed to help.
I refrained from making a snide remark and instead asked him if he thought I would have to pay the damages.
"Shit, I don't know," he said. "I ain't never crashed my truck." He glared at me.
"I didn't crash it," I told him. He ignored me.
"Well, let's get you back to the station and find out," said Jeff tiredly, and I went around to the other side of his truck and got in silently. I never really know how to handle people like Jeff. I haven't even ever had a full conversation with him, and somehow he dislikes me.
We rode back to the station in silence, and I checked my phone, but Xiu Li hadn't called me back yet. I followed Jeff into Mr. DuBolaire's office. I hadn't met him yet, since he was the new post office manager as of two weeks ago when Ms. Gables retired. He spun his chair around, and gave me a withering look. I would have laughed in different circumstances. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five, and his hair had a ridiculous amount of gel on it. Not in it. On it.
"I hear you've crashed your truck, Mr. Chen."
"Zheng, actually--"
"I hope you know I expect better from my employees."
Jeff sniggered and left the room. I almost wish he hadn't.
"Mr. DuBolaire, I promise you, it was an accident." I fought to keep myself under control. "Someone ran a red light, and I was trying not to--"
"Excuses mean nothing, Mr. Chen. I hope you're willing to pay for the damage you've done to the truck."
"Mr. DuBolaire, it wasn't my fault, I promise--"
"What do you want me to do, Mr. Chen? Handle your mistakes for you? You are responsible for your shift and what happens on it." He leaned forward in his chair, swaying it slightly side-to-side.
"For starters, I would like you to stop interrupting me," I told him. "The accident was not my fault, and someone else had taken the spare tire."
He looked unconvinced. "You have until next Tuesday to pay for the damages done to the truck. I want it completely repainted and all the tires replaced." He paused, and I took a deep breath in to keep myself calm.
"Oh, and you're responsible for getting the truck towed back here."
I left the office before I said anything stupid.
I splashed some water on my face, ate the rest of my sandwich from lunch, and then called the tow truck company. I tried not to take my anger out on them. Two hours later, I stumbled into Castle Apartments.
At this point, I realized Xiu Li had never called me back. This made me hurry up the stairs. I realized then how exhausted I was from all of the day's nonsense, and even my worry did not increase the speed with which I tackled the six flights of stairs. I opened the door to the apartment and rushed inside, still catching my breath. Xiu Li's bag wasn't in the kitchen. I yelled, but I think I already knew she wasn't there.
I walked to the school, which took me a little while. Some teenagers jeered at my expression as I hurried to the front door. The main office was already closed. It was getting dark, and I had no idea where my daughter was.
Happy birthday to me.
I walked out the front door of the building and was greeted by a strange smell. I still can't decide exactly what it was, or even whether it was good or bad. The city usually has a distinctive scent that I try to ignore, but today was different. It smelled like a generic flowery something, with overtones of beans and the occasional hint of body odor. While I puzzled over my nose, I crossed the street and headed down the block to the post office. In the process, I found myself wishing again for a car, as one of them almost collided with a woman crossing in the opposite crosswalk. On the other hand, it'd probably just get wrecked with how people drive around here.
I arrived at work a couple minutes early, and went behind the building to get today's load of mail. The truck's sweaty smell quickly overwhelmed the baffling odor in the air, and I loaded up the heavy bins of letters into the back, forced myself to put on my jacket, and climbed in.
The weather made my daily route seem longer than usual. By the time it got to be about noon, my jacket stuck to me like its life depended on it. I considered taking it off at lunch, but feared what my shirt would smell like underneath. I finally delivered my last batch of letters, and was on the way back to the post office when one of those crazy drivers that seem to be everywhere came barreling through a red light. I swerved to avoid the maniac, running over the curb and finally coming to a stop. At least I hadn't hit anyone. I pulled over into the parking garage next to Castle Apartments, and knew from the way the truck felt (not to mention the ominous hissing noise) that I had a flat. By this time I was pretty upset. I've been working for the post office since I was sixteen, and I've never had any sort of incident with the trucks before. I hoped they wouldn't make me pay the damage, but I had a sinking feeling about that particular matter. Thankfully, I had exhausted the day's mail supply, and I would have no trouble getting to the --
Spare tire. Which, apparently, there wasn't. I sighed, and called the post office. Melinda picked up on the second ring.
"Hello?"
"This is Renshu. Some maniac curbed me and now I've got a flat."
"Excuse me?"
"I have a flat tire on the mail truck."
"Oh." She sounded flustered. "Well, where are you? I'll just ask someone to come get you."
"In the parking garage next to the apartment buildings. Not too far."
She didn't respond. In the background, I heard some yelling, and then she came back on the line.
"Jeff's going to come pick you up. Hold on."
"Thanks, Melinda."
"No problem," she said, and hung up.
I sat on the wall next to my truck, staring at a red graffiti drawing on the wall opposite me. I couldn't decipher if it was an oddly suggestive drawing of a bird or the word 'potato' with an extra T. It really was starting to bother me when I realized I would be late getting home. I took out my phone and called Xiu Li. Her phone went straight to voicemail. I left her a message telling her about the flat, hung up, and wondered absentmindedly if I had given her the extra key. At this moment, Jeff pulled up in his mail truck, and hopped out.
He came right over to the truck and took a look.
"Yup. It's a flat," he commented, and spit on it as if that was supposed to help.
I refrained from making a snide remark and instead asked him if he thought I would have to pay the damages.
"Shit, I don't know," he said. "I ain't never crashed my truck." He glared at me.
"I didn't crash it," I told him. He ignored me.
"Well, let's get you back to the station and find out," said Jeff tiredly, and I went around to the other side of his truck and got in silently. I never really know how to handle people like Jeff. I haven't even ever had a full conversation with him, and somehow he dislikes me.
We rode back to the station in silence, and I checked my phone, but Xiu Li hadn't called me back yet. I followed Jeff into Mr. DuBolaire's office. I hadn't met him yet, since he was the new post office manager as of two weeks ago when Ms. Gables retired. He spun his chair around, and gave me a withering look. I would have laughed in different circumstances. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five, and his hair had a ridiculous amount of gel on it. Not in it. On it.
"I hear you've crashed your truck, Mr. Chen."
"Zheng, actually--"
"I hope you know I expect better from my employees."
Jeff sniggered and left the room. I almost wish he hadn't.
"Mr. DuBolaire, I promise you, it was an accident." I fought to keep myself under control. "Someone ran a red light, and I was trying not to--"
"Excuses mean nothing, Mr. Chen. I hope you're willing to pay for the damage you've done to the truck."
"Mr. DuBolaire, it wasn't my fault, I promise--"
"What do you want me to do, Mr. Chen? Handle your mistakes for you? You are responsible for your shift and what happens on it." He leaned forward in his chair, swaying it slightly side-to-side.
"For starters, I would like you to stop interrupting me," I told him. "The accident was not my fault, and someone else had taken the spare tire."
He looked unconvinced. "You have until next Tuesday to pay for the damages done to the truck. I want it completely repainted and all the tires replaced." He paused, and I took a deep breath in to keep myself calm.
"Oh, and you're responsible for getting the truck towed back here."
I left the office before I said anything stupid.
I splashed some water on my face, ate the rest of my sandwich from lunch, and then called the tow truck company. I tried not to take my anger out on them. Two hours later, I stumbled into Castle Apartments.
At this point, I realized Xiu Li had never called me back. This made me hurry up the stairs. I realized then how exhausted I was from all of the day's nonsense, and even my worry did not increase the speed with which I tackled the six flights of stairs. I opened the door to the apartment and rushed inside, still catching my breath. Xiu Li's bag wasn't in the kitchen. I yelled, but I think I already knew she wasn't there.
I walked to the school, which took me a little while. Some teenagers jeered at my expression as I hurried to the front door. The main office was already closed. It was getting dark, and I had no idea where my daughter was.
Happy birthday to me.
