Just Another Day(Cody) JUST ANOTHER DAY
By Cody Strouth


The rising sun had just begun patrolling the outskirts of a small town that neighbored the sea. The wind was calm and the dew on the grass had just begun evaporating. In the closest home, the local radio broadcast station, 98.3FM, was sounding off from an alarm clock.

“The final days will feel no different than the beginning days,” the alarm clock said. “Each man will be judged for his doings, those who are saved will be removed from this Earth. Then tribulation will begin; a seven year covenant with Israel will be agreed to. Please follow me on ‘Daniel 9:27.’”

The bright red LED lights flashed four-forty-five as a hand landed onto the machine, using its fingers to search every inch until one managed to silence the noise.

“Why does she always have it set to this station?” a man grumbled, as he detached himself from the bed. “Why can’t she manage to change the station when I ask? They talk about the same thing every goddamn day.” He threw on a shirt from the day before and remained in the pants he had woken up in. Adding a dark green hat to cover his graying brown hair, he stumbled down the stairs as he rubbed the temples of his head--an attempt to nurture the throbbing.
More aware of his surroundings, he stepped into the kitchen and immediately sat in the nearest chair at the table in the center of the room. The fan above him pushed the smell of bacon and eggs to each corner of the kitchen. It was enough to make any man hungry.

The producer of the smell, a middle aged woman whose wrinkles did not work in her favor, turned away from the countertop and faced the scraggly man.

“Good morning, Brian,” she said. “It’ll be finished in a second.” Her frizzy black hair lagged behind her as she turned back around to monitor the source of the smell, not expecting a response. She quickly scraped the remaining eggs onto the fine china plate and walked over to the kitchen table to drop off the food as if she were passing on her creation to an assembly line.

Brian scratched his short, grey beard and directed his full attention to the plate that was placed in front of him. The smell was at its most powerful under his nose. He began eating, starting with the eggs and working around to the bacon, when the woman spoke.

“I was thinking that after the service we could come back and spend the day together. Maybe we could have a picnic in the backyard,” she said “It has just been so long since--”

“Ellen, not today,” he replied. “Marty and I are going out to do some fishing. Do you not remember anything that I ever say?” The man finished his meal and stood up. He dropped the greasy plate into the sink like he had a thousand times before that and bent over to put on his shoes.
Ellen was use to this kind of treatment. His responses were always similar to this one. Actually, if he hadn’t spoken to her in this manner, she would be worried that something might be wrong with him. She moved around Brian to push his chair in.

“We got anything for a headache in here?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we do,” she said. “You took the last pill yesterday morning before you left for work.”

Brian’s drained face immediately turned into an irritated one.

“You know, Ellen,” he began. “I am tired of this town. I hate our yard, I hate our neighbors, I hate our house.”

“Please Brian, whenever something bothers you, you get like this. I will pick some more up after the service.”

“This is what I’m talking about,” Brian said. “I ask you to do something and it escalades to this before you get the idea that you actually should go and do it!”

Ellen looked down at the floor and took a step back; her back against the kitchen wall. She couldn’t look him in the eyes any longer.

“Well if you didn’t drink every night you wouldn’t have a headache every single morning.” she muttered.

As soon as she finished her sentence, she sealed her fate. Like a child who brought home a bad report card, she knew what she was in for.
Brian took a large step towards her.

“What did you say,” his breath was picked up by her nose, killing the scent the breakfast had made. “I could have sworn you said you were done with the back talking last night?” he stared into Ellen’s eyes. She was not reciprocating. Her mind was no longer in the kitchen. She stood motionless as her thoughts carried her to another time; when she was happier.

Brian inched his face closer to hers and continued.

“It’s always something with you, Ellen,” he said. “I sacrifice my time to come live in this dirt-poor town to help you out, and you’re going to get on my back?”

Realizing she needed to respond before her silence further aggravated him, she attempted to change the direction of the argument.

“Brian, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said. “I just want you and I to be like we use to.”

Brian spoke up, completely dismissing her efforts to weaken the argument.

“You know, some days I wish your mother would just hurry up and--”
He stopped. Both Ellen and his attention turned to face the knock at the door.

. . .

Brian turned around and stepped towards the door to open it. A bit shorter than Brian stood a man on the other side of the door.

“Looks like you finally decided to show up.” said Brian.

The man wore a gray beanie and was clean shaven. You couldn’t find a spot of dirt on his face. He nodded at Brian and his soft green eyes peered over his shoulder to find Ellen.

“Good morning, Ellen.” he said.

Ellen came to back reality.

“Hi Marty.” she replied. “Brian tells me you two are going out fishing for the night?”

“Yeah, we plan on doing some fishing, playing some cards--you know, catching up.”

“That’s nice.”

Ellen enjoyed the presence of Marty. She wasn’t attracted to him, she just liked being able to talk to someone. Marty was a kind person. He grew up in poverty and struggled most of his life. He eventually met a woman who was off far worse than he was. Then they struggled together to make it where they are now. She would never dare tell Brian, but Ellen envied Marty and his wife. While they continued to grow, Brian and her continued to wither.

Ellen reached for a satellite phone on the counter and slowly handed it to Brian, as if he might still be in his fit of rage. He wasn’t.

“Don’t forget this,” she said. “I’ll call you later tonight.”

“Right.”

Brian nodded to Marty and they both stepped outside.

“Let’s get a move on.” said Brian.

Marty obeyed the command and turned back to Ellen, smiling goodbye.
She returned the smile.

“Whose truck did you want to take?” asked Marty.

“Well,” Brian replied. “Yours already seems to be warmed up.”

Marty walked to the driver side and opened the door to his burgundy trailblazer. Sounds of guitars and beating drums poured out. He sat inside and reached over to the passenger door; he flipped the lock. Brian hopped in and turned off the radio. Without responding to Brian’s actions, Marty put the trailblazer in reverse and pulled out into the dirt road. As he it into drive, he saw in the corner of his eye that Ellen was watching from the storm door. Brian was too busy fidgeting through his back pocket to notice. It was her way of saying goodbye and that was his.

“Listen Marty, you mind stopping by Dave’s on the way up?” asked Brian. “I need to grab something.”

“Sure thing, Brian.”

. . .


Dave’s was a small gas station on the corner of Chance and Newman road. The family business had been around for the last forty or so years. The hardened mortar connecting the bricks of the building seemed to diminish a little more each year. While Brian had known the area around his home, this recently became one of his more frequently shopped places. Marty pulled his vehicle to the side of the building and put it in park.

“I’ll be a minute.” said Brian.

Brian stepped out and rubbed his temples again, nearly defeating the constant aching he was enduring since he had awakened. Just as he was about to reach for the gas stations door, it opened up and he took a step backward, allowing a customer to exit. He quickly moved from the back of the store to make it up to the cashier, hoping to avoid waiting in line. At around five-thirty, almost everyone in the small town was already out starting their ‘to-do lists,’ especially on this day of the week. Upon reaching his destination, he let out a small groan. He was third in line.

He didn’t associate much with the locals, he let Ellen take care of that. He would make the conversations quick when his silent lifestyle was invaded by them. Fortunately for him, his busy work days were enough to excuse him from almost everything that involved getting to know the people of the area.

The first customer had grabbed their purchased soda and left the store.

“One person to go.” he thought.

Suddenly, as soon as salvation was near, he was tapped on the shoulder.

“Brian?” a quiet voice asked.

Brian turned to look behind him to see a familiar face. Not one he wanted to see.
“Oh, hello Calvin.” said Brian. He glanced back to the cashier, hoping to quickly end the conversation.

“I do hope that you and Ellen will join us for the service today.” Calvin said. “I promise it’ll be worth your time.”

Calvin was a much older man than Brian who couldn’t see his own hands in front of his face without his thick bifocals. He constantly suffered from a limp due to a broken hip the year before. The vanilla colored hair on his head had just about wilted away, much like his mind. Before Calvin’s church going days, many years ago he spent his mornings like he spent his afternoons: Constantly high from whatever drugs or medication he could scavenge from his neighbors after he ran out of money. Living on the streets for nearly three years, he eventually found work at a nearby marina where he says his love for the sea began. He would say that the sea washed away his past and helped shape his future, although most don’t take him serious anymore due to his progressing Alzheimer’s. Before Brian and Ellen moved into town, he was found living in a dumpster behind Dave’s. Word of mouth said that Calvin convinced himself he was still homeless.

“Sorry, Calvin,” Brian said as he scratched behind his head. “Won’t be able to make it today, I’ll have the good book while I’m out at sea, though.” It is true that Brian did, in fact, own a King James Bible. It was also true that it had never once been opened.

Calvin looked down and then back up to Brian.

“Do make sure you don’t spend the entire day focusing on only the fish, Brian.”

“Yes Calvin, whatever you say.” Turning to the now open cashier to pay for his item, Brian placed the small purchased carton in his back left pocket. While walking away he thought to himself how much worse Calvin had been getting lately.

After exiting the store, he was finally safe from any further confrontation. He walked over and opened the door to Marty’s trailblazer. Once again music leaked out; once again Brian silenced it.

. . .

Along the way was nothing but a long dirt road accompanied by endless rows of tall oak trees. After reaching the end of the road, Marty parked the vehicle underneath the shade of two trees. The two men hopped out of the vehicle and began walking towards the old, wooden pier. Attached to the pier by a single rope was a recreational trawler. It had two levels, the lower level being the cabin, while the upper level contained a pilothouse that was exposed to the outside. The trawler was one of Brian’s many ways to escape the small town and Ellen. Here, he was his own man and could do as he pleased without any criticism. The blue and yellow stripes along the white boat were one of the many additions Brian added on after he purchased it. Its beauty was leagues above any of the boats floating alongside it.

Brian reached in his back left pocket and retrieved the small carton he picked up from Dave’s. He tore away the plastic wrapping around it and opened the carton to pull out a single cigarette.

“I thought you gave up smoking,” questioned Marty. “For…Ellen?”

“Look,” said Brian. “I have worked far too hard for far too long to have her tell me I can’t take a puff or two.”

Marty crouched beside the rope that holding down the boat and began unfastening it.

Lighting the cigarette, Brian inhaled the smoke and let it circulate in his lungs for a moment before slowly releasing it.

“So,” Marty began. “How exactly has Ellen’s mother been since they released her?”

Brian rolled his eyes.

“From the first day this became news to us and we rushed her to the emergency room, she hasn’t gotten any better,” Brian said. “The only things the doctors are doing are wasting more of my time by keeping me in this run down town for even longer. Everybody knows it could be any day now.”

Marty released the rope from the boat and looked back at Brian.

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, well we’re not here for that,” said Brian. “I just want to enjoy the night.”

Brian stepped over the side of the boat and Marty followed. Brian headed up to the pilothouse and started the engine.

. . .

After having a few beers, the two men were feeling relaxed and having a great time reminiscing all the years they worked together. By this time, the sun had begun to set; the last remaining rays of its light shining against the starboard of the boat. Two miles out to sea, they were to themselves.

“Times just flies, Marty. And to be honest, I don’t think there is another employee I would have rather had working for me.”

Marty laughed.

“So Brian,” Marty said. “I can’t help but notice that you invited me to spend the day fishing with you and the only thing we’ve fished for is alcohol.”

Brian sat up in his chair.

“Marty,” he said. “I brought you here to discuss taking over the company.”
Marty’s eyes widened. He was confused.

“What?” Marty asked. “You’re stepping down?”

“I’ve already said it. There isn’t another man I would rather have for the job. I plan on getting away from here when you take over, moving out of the country and spending the rest of my days having whatever I want, whenever I want. I deserve it.”

“What about Ellen’s mother?” Marty questioned. “How will she–-”

“Just me, Marty. Not her...or Ellen.”

Marty couldn’t tell if Brian was serious or playing a joke on him. He couldn’t think of how to respond to such a statement.

“I have worked too hard for the last thirty years and nobody has ever done a damn thing for me. I’m not going to live the rest of my life being held back by Ellen’s problems. I’m leaving as soon as we get back tomorrow morning.”

For as long as Marty had known Brian, he had never expected him to become as cold hearted as he was now.

“So is that a yes?” asked Brian. “You’ll have enough money to do whatever you want for the rest of your life! No more having to save up for Madison’s college or postponing a vacation because Amy’s car needed work.”

Marty was staggered by Brian’s words. He flashed back to times remembering that he never wanted to end up like Brian, seeing how money could change a person. He knew that Brian’s offer was more of a curse than a gift. Marty refused to become anything like him. Just as Marty opened his mouth, his eyes were attracted to a light over Brian’s shoulder.

. . .

Floating on the port side of the trawler was a small, white Dinghy; its navigation lights were now switched off. Brian and Marty stepped outside the cabin and looked over the edge of the boat to see an elderly man attempting to pull himself overtop the side of the boat. Brian shook his head and signaled for Marty to assist the elderly man in sneaking aboard. Once inside the cabin, the elderly man sat in the middle of the cabin floor. After catching his breath, a livid Brian spoke up.

“Calvin, what in the Hell are you doing?”

Looking at the counter, Calvin pointed.

“You still haven’t opened it?”

Brian looked to the counter and noticed Calvin was pointing at his unopened bible. Marty sat down on the nearby sleeper sofa, puzzled by the current situation. Before Brian was able to respond, Calvin chimed in, looking at Marty.

“You’re a good man. I can see it in your eyes,” said Calvin. “I’ve been hoping your friend here could make up for some of the wrong he has done.” Calvin looked back at Brian.

Marty didn’t speak up. He let Calvin’s words linger in the air, hoping Brian would admit to his faults. Brian looked at Marty.

“You’re not going to speak up, Marty?” Brian said. “I offer you a chance of a lifetime and you let this fool insult me?

Marty had never met Calvin during any of his visits to see Brian and Ellen. He knew nothing of this man, but he was in agreement with what he was saying at the moment. Calvin spoke before Marty was able to respond.

“Marty has done nothing wrong to you.” said Calvin. “You would do right by heading back home and making amends with your wife. You’ve forgotten how much she cares about you.”

Brian glared at Calvin.

“You’re going to jump on my boat and tell me I need to apologize to my wife?” yelled Brian. “You think I’m going to take advice from someone who was found living in a dumpster?”

Calvin looked away, ashamed.

“I’m only trying to help you from what I’ve learned while reading,” Calvin mumbled, looking back to the counter.

“That book hasn’t once done me any good!” yelled Brian. “I’ve spent decades breaking my back to become as successful as I am now. I have enough money to have whatever I want, why should even start to give a damn about that book now? It didn’t help me get where I am!”

Before storming off, Brian grabbed an unopened bottle of Vodka from the cooler and made his way outside the boat and up to the pilothouse. After a moment of silence with Brian’s leaving, Calvin looked to Marty as if he had further business with him.

. . .

The cool winds blew through the pilothouse creating a comforting breeze. After nearly finishing the bottle, Brian grabbed the wheel and lay back in the chair.

“Not once has he done something for me,” he said. “I choose my own direction.” He began moving the wheel back and forth, as if he were driving. The boat floated in the same position.

A vibration began in his front pocket.

After pulling out the satellite phone, he was able to make out the blurry words of an incoming call from Ellen. After staring at the incoming call for a few seconds, he began considering what Calvin had said to him and thought of trying to repair him and Ellen. He then tossed the phone into the cold, dark ocean.
As he looked out to the dark horizon that had once been filled with a joyous light from the sun, the alcohol cradled him softly to sleep.

. . .

Mouth wide open; Brian awoke to the now chilly ocean breeze passing through the boat. He rubbed his eyes and began massaging his temples; ready for the coming aches. The morning sun casted light across the water and onto the boat and dinghy that floated beside it. He stood up and headed down into the cabin. Once inside, he plopped onto the sleeper sofa, only to quickly stand back up.

The cabin was empty.

“What are you trying to do here, Marty?” he said. After a moment of silence, he spoke again.

“Calvin’s dinghy is still secured to the boat; you’re not doing anything by hiding except pissing me off! You’re acting like a jackass!”

There was total silence throughout the entire cabin.

After checking each corner of the room multiple times, he noticed Calvin’s glasses on the nightstand and the bible on the counter. It was opened. Brian stood still with a blank expression on his face. His heart began beating quicker than ever. He grabbed the bible and frantically ran back up to the pilothouse. After starting the boat, he directed it back towards the pier, dragging the dinghy along as it began moving forward.

With the cold wind smacking against his face and one hand on the wheel and the other tightly squeezing the bible, Brian began whimpering.

“I swear, Ellen,” he shouted. “I am so sorry for everything! Everything! I will do better, I swear!”

Brian looked up towards the sky, as if addressing it.

“I understand what’s happening, I will make up with Ellen, and just you wait!”

Brian was adrenalized, thinking of the first things he would say when he saw Ellen, he was going to make everything right. Minutes later, Brian hopped off of the boat and sprinted to Marty’s truck, still a bit fuzzy from the night before. He did not tie the boat to the dock or question his decision to take Marty’s truck without Marty being there. The ride home was the same as the ride there. Brian sped through the dirt road and passed Dave’s, when he realized he had not seen any other drivers out yet, but his mind was focused on seeing Ellen so he did not let it worry him.

Pulling into his driveway and leaving the truck running, he bolted through the door and noticed the kitchen was empty. The powerful breakfast smell was not present today. After finding the living room empty, he hurried upstairs to the bedroom and opened the door.

A cold chill ran down Brian’s spine. He stood for what seemed hours, staring at the bed. As confused as he was, he understood that Ellen was no longer here, just like Marty, or Calvin, or the entire town. The only thing that was out of place in the bedroom was an open book on Ellen’s side of the bed--a picture book. Looking at the current page it was on, Brian began weeping uncontrollably. He looked so happy in the picture. Ellen’s shining black hair was floating in the wind as she was wrapped tightly around Brian, who had a large smile on his face. They stood happily married outside of a church. He realized how easy it would have been to tell her he loved her, or tell her how beautiful she was, or say how happy she made him. He knew how much he had hurt her--and not just Ellen, but everyone around him. Unfortunately, it was too late.

Just as Brian began to turn the page, the alarm clocks radio went off. It was a different radio station; 95.4FM, the local news station that Ellen knew Brian wanted the radio changed to. As tears rolled down his cheeks, the radio spoke.

“Live from the White House, we can officially state that millions have vanished overnight,” he said. “The cause of the disappearances is not known but the Vice President has currently taken over for the missing President of the United States and has already begun bringing many countries together to help assess this tragedy. He has been in contact with many other countries concerning the plans to bring momentary peace while last night’s mystery is investigated. A peace treaty with Israel was signed into effect early this morning.”

Ignoring any further information from the radio, Brian opened up the bible to the page it was left opened to on the boat and began reading the first excerpt he saw: ‘Daniel 9:27.’ Thinking of last night and Calvin, he wished he had opened it much sooner.

THE END

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