The 500-Pound Man

It’s 8:53.

I like to get here early in the mornings. It shows initiative and dependability. Plus you get to skip out a little early at the end of the day. That’s always nice, especially on a Monday. I am well-rested and feeling buoyant; the weekend was pretty good. The schedule is pretty light, so it looks like this is going to be a prett-

OH NO....

I have just discovered that I am not the only one working this morning. I sit in my chair and turn on my computer. My optimism has turned to dread.

Maybe he will call in sick.

No, no. Don’t get your hopes up.

Maybe he will forget he works mornings this week and they will fire him.

I wish I was that lucky.

Termination seemed imminent a few months ago. But that was before “the accident,” the so-called “injury” that has rendered him useless. Not that he had much use before. To you or I, the cure for this particular type of “injury” would have an application of a band-aid from the first aid kit in the storage closet. But when you have 550 pounds of pressure decimating your legs, discoloring them to the point of rotting off, an adhesive strip simply will not suffice when trying to stop the crimson geyser spraying from your left lower appendage.

He lost two pints of blood that day.

It was a paper cut. On the leg. The doctors almost had to amputate.

Maybe he died.

If he did, I would win the pool. My entry was ten months, an ambitious, and in retrospect, overly eager wager. One of my cohorts said two years; the intern said three. The boss went with four. Nobody went past five. There’s no way a behemoth like that could live past 50. It can’t. Right?

This is the eighth month since “the injury.” Now it walks with a cane. The industrial strength steel of this particular staff is far better-suited to its owner than the previous two it used to shoulder its enormous mass. They never stood a chance. The metal clank of that cane as it strikes the ground is the sound I fear most in this world. It is the sound that has haunted my nightmares for months.

Before I can even prepare myself, it begins.

The muffled sounds of the gears and motors in the shaft carry through the doorway to the office. The chimes are audible from the floors beneath me. They are getting increasingly louder as the steel and iron box slowly moves upward.

ding.

No, that’s not our floor. It’s getting closer… Maybe it’s not him. Please God, let the elevator pass.

The hydraulics echo through the chamber. I pray for the pistons to jam and cause the elevator to get stuck.

Ding.

I think it’s right underneath us now. Just don’t stop. Keep going. Keep moving up…

DING.

False alarm. Now it’s one floor below. Just pray it doesn’t stop on the next…

DING!

This is when the dread begins. The sequence is always the same. And yet I still cringe.

The bell rings loudly and the door screeches open. I hear a thud. And then another. And then the metallic clank.

The odor hits the room before he does. He wobbles in, out of breath. Boom, boom, clank, huff, huff. Boom, boom, clank, huff, huff. It mutters something to itself that I ignore. It collapses in its chair, and the chair nearly collapses itself.

Go to your happy place.

I hold my breath as the stench fills the room. Against my will, the stink of sweaty flesh and the odors of unwashed clothes seep into my nostrils. I try not to inhale, but the act is futile. I close my eyes and envision myself as a Crucian carp and cherish my ability to hold my breath for months, swimming with schools of fish in the Asian sea, roaming free, living a listless existence. Listless, like the quarter-ton man that now sits in front of me. The man that is staring at the television screen with a blank look on his face. The man whose heavy breathing indicates that he has just taken five steps in succession and is on the brink of cardiac arrest. The man who is the brunt of my existence.

I open my eyes and inhale. I instantly lament no longer having gills, as the foulness nearly flattens me. I gag. And I gag again. He is oblivious.

And then the narcolepsy kicks in.

It begins to snore. The trek from the parking lot to its desk seems to have taken its toll on Beelzeblubber.

Quick, look! It sleeps on the job. Fire it.

But the boss is nowhere to be found. I contemplate ways to escape, but my eyes are transfixed on the monster. It fades in and out of consciousness. Any sudden movement or noise may awaken it. I stare some more. Strangely, I am intrigued. What must it dream about? A chair without arms? New stockings for its corroded legs?

My dream is that he never wakes up. Sweet Jesus, it would take twenty paramedics just to carry him out of here.

As I ponder this horrifyingly beautiful scenario, the glutton flinches.

Do not make eye contact with it. If it awakes, do not engage it in subtle pleasantries or anything that could be construed as such. This is what it wants. Go about your work. Block the malodor from your mind. Let it sleep. Let it dream…

I begin to daydream myself. Underneath the water, I am free. Free from the stench, free from the lethargy, free from the awkward comments… I am in a place where the monstrosity cannot harm me. For the first time in months, I am truly happy to be at work.

But both of our dreams are shattered by the ringing phone. I reach for it as fast as I can, but I am not fast enough. Before I can answer, it opens its eyes and looks at me.

And then it speaks:

“Ummmmmmmmmmm…. so what do you want to do for lunch today?”

I look at the clock. It’s 9:01.

Five o’clock can’t come fast enough.

- B

"The eyes believe themselves; the ears believe other people."
- ancient Chinese fortune cookie

Coma

Every day, he would take her out to the tree. Surrounded by miles of sand and ocean, it seemed so unnatural for it to be there. And perhaps that is why it was his favorite spot in the entire world. Staring out into the ocean, sheltered from the sun, he would show her the world and all that he wanted to give to her. The future was always right there in front of them.

But he had no future, and he knew that. He had come here to find a family he had never known. He had come here to escape a life filled with pain, loneliness and uncertainty. He had come here to find himself, while he still had the chance. And he succeeded in doing every one of these things. But none of it was for him. It was all for her.

He cradles her and thinks aloud:

What is about the beach that makes us think that it will just wash away all of our problems, all our concerns, all of fears?

Under the palm tree, holding his daughter, his brain begins to hemorrhage. He looks at the sleeping baby, and then out into the ocean, and finally up to the sun. The light blinds his eyes. He sees himself walking with a young, teenage girl, barefoot in the sand, their hands clasped tightly together. He sees his brother walking ahead of them in the distance. He's reminded of a dream he had once. A dream he used to have all the time; the most beautiful dream of them all. A dream so real it was like a memory. And in this moment, his life fading away like the sun in front of him, he realizes what that dream was about.

As he lay dying, he smiles.

He closes his eyes and drifts away. Like all those times before when he wished he would never wake up. But now, the only thing he wants is to stay awake forever and be with his daughter. But he can't. Not right now.

He falls asleep. The world turns black.

And then nothing.

Years go by. The world changes. Time moves forward and life goes on.

And still he sleeps.

And he dreams.

And he remembers.

And though he lies there dead to the outside world, he is very much alive inside, remembering his life; the good and the bad; the pain and the happiness. He remembers his dreams. Reality and fantasy blur together to the point that he cannot differentiate between the two. This foggy pseudo-reality plays in an endless loop inside his mind for what seems like eternity. And during each cycle, he knows not where he is or where he is going, but he knows it's a journey he must take every time. It all pours into his head randomly; memories that were not really memories and dreams that only seemed like memories.

He begins to see things he has never seen before. He sees the inside of hospital room. He hears a teenage girl talking to him. He feels the presence of love for the first time in what seems like forever.

But most astonishing of all, he sees glimpses of a future life. A future he always wanted. A future where he is happy. A future that he never thought was possible.

A future that one day, years later, he will finally have.

The sun sets. The tide washes ashore. The waves of the ocean crash inside a sea of waking dreams. And in the distance, a brother watches as a baby girl sleeps with her father underneath a palm tree.

This was the past. This is the present. This will be the future.

- B

"Your future is as boundless as the lofty heaven."
- ancient Chinese fortune cookie