Those Who Appear Most Normal, Part Six
Part 6 of a serialized Contemporary Realist Horror Novel
PART SIX
Caroline
The next morning, Ben took Caroline out into the materials warehouse and they got in and opening supplier packaging and inspecting supplier materials while forklifts came and went and took supplies across the lot, into the factory, and back again.
Ben was looking at sheet materials, looking through one stack and then another.
He said, These are all cracked.
He checked another stack.
These, too.
Caroline was standing and following and hanging behind his shoulder, making notes he suggested now and again, but was otherwise quiet.
Forklifts came and hauled away a stack
Hey! Ben waved for the forklift operator and followed after him a step or two, but went unnoticed. Those are all cracked, he said aloud, at no one in particular.
Caroline said, Should I be writing this down?
Did I ask you to, Ben said. His tone had an edge, it was not soft. Did I?
No.
I’m just, all of these are cracked, all these materials. Ben pointed here and all around. Not some, he said, all of them. Every one.
Seems like I should write that down, Caroline said. She had her clipboard and pen held close.
Another forklift arrived for more sheet materials but Ben interrupted, he was waving the forklift operator away and saying no, no, no, these are no good! They’re all no good!
The forklift operator called over his supervisor, who trotted over in a hard hat, and Ben, before the supervisor got a word in, was pointing his finger at the forklifts coming and going and the stacks of cracked materials and shouting, saying, You got your guys hauling broken materials over to production!
Supplier says that’s fine, the supervisor said.
Ben just looked at him. Then he looked at the forklift operator, then the supervisor again.
That’s how they come in, the supervisor said.
Ben said, Yeah, but, and it took Ben a moment, then he said, Your guys, your crew I’m saying, they’re putting sub par materials into production.
He left a moment of quiet, perhaps to let his point sink further.
Caroline said, How about that? Do I write that down?
They’re always broken, the supervisor said. Most what comes in is broken.
Seems like I should be writing that down, Caroline said.
These are all no good, Ben said, pointing across the warehouse. None of them!
Look, the supervisor said, Every week new materials come in on trucks and we unload and they’re always broken and loose. Always. Always. They ain’t never been not broken or not loose. They’re always that way.
He said no more, as if he’d made his counter-point.
Then he said, Supplier says that’s fine, they say okay.
Ben was shaking his head with a look which seemed of utter disbelief.
More forklifts came for materials and Ben said, Stop them, stop all them!
The supervisor said, Excuse me?
Shut them down, all of them.
The supervisor was then in Ben’s face, poking his finger into Ben’s chest. Caroline remained at a distance.
I’m not shutting nothing down!
You’re shoving sub par materials in production, shoving them right on in, just sub par junk running and shoving all through the goddam lines, everywhere, Jesus Christ! You can’t make good products with sub par junk!
To this the supervisor said not one word. He stood looking at his forklift operators, then he was mumbling under his breath, refusing Ben any more of his attention.
No wonder returns are piling, I mean it, Ben said. There’s no goddam wondering needed.
Ben shouted at oncoming forklifts to shut down!
SHUT IT ALL DOWN!
Workflows through the warehouse stalled and the floor went quiet while more supervisors collected around.
…
It really feels like I should write some of this down, Caroline said.
Ben looked right at her.
Jesus Christ, he said to himself.
Jesus.
H.
Christ.
Caroline was on the couch that evening with the TV on and the kids in bed. Her eyes were heavy and her hair was wet and drying from a shower and she was very near sleep. Tom was on the couch’s other end on his phone and in his own world.
TV commercials and TV laughter filled the quiet.
Did you see that commercial, hon?
Tom said, Hm?
He did not look up from his phone.
That dog food commercial? With the dog? You see that?
Tom was scrolling, he didn’t answer, except to say, Uh huh.
I thought that was so cute, Caroline said, but Tom wasn’t listening.
She stole glances at him, she had a smile that quickly faded to nothing. The other end of the couch was miles away, and Tom was floating, drifting so far away from her.
She kept herself from sleep, Tom seemed wide awake. The weight of her eyes and her body grew terribly heavy, and many times she dozed; a second here, and second there, little micro-sleeps, on her end of the couch.
She sat herself upright and said, when she could fight sleep no longer, I’m headed to bed.
Tom said, Night, and nothing more.
His attention remained on his phone.
Caroline waited for movement from Tom. Then, when there was none, she said, You’re staying up for a bit then?
I’m not tired.
Oh.
Caroline was looking at the TV to keep herself from looking at Tom. She drew in a long, rigid breath.
She said, You don’t want to come to bed?
I’ll be up in a bit.
Caroline was then deep in thought and looking at the TV, not registering the TV screen but playing, in her head, unhelpful and intrusive thoughts that, very quickly, became quite dark.
Thought you were going to bed.
No. Changed my mind.
Caroline sank back into the couch, very much aware of the distance between her and her husband, the empty space between them, and though she continued giving her attention to TV shows and commercials and TV laughter, her mind returned to thoughts that were unkind and held a good deal of doubt.
When she woke up some time later, she wasn’t aware she’d even fallen asleep.
The TV was off and the living room and the house were dark and silent, so horribly silent, and it was quite late.
It was just her on the couch. Tom was gone.
To bed.
He’d gone without her.
Caroline and Ben were waiting outside the management office, in a small white-washed waiting room. They were in plastic chairs and about the room were fake plants of many varieties, and the pair were insulated from factory noise. Instead, they listened to air vents pumping frigid air into this small, narrow room.
On Ben’s lap was a compiled report labeled QA Findings & Recommendations. He was sat back with his arms crossed and he was looking off, not saying a word.
He said, out of nowhere, You know about those hit and runs on the news?
Caroline had her hands clamped between her legs to keep them warm. She was thinking about waking up in the dark living room, the dark TV, in the silence.
Alone.
Her thoughts moved toward Tom.
Imagine, you buying us a new house.
Just like Gil’s wife.
Isn’t that something? His wife making all that money?
Caroline said, I don’t watch news.
Ben made a noise, something like a grunt, and was then quiet for a time.
Air hissed above their heads, cold and chilled and rushed out of vents.
Then Ben said, They caught one on a parking lot camera, one of the folks hit.
Caroline offered nothing to continue this conversation but a nod of her head. She shifted how she was sitting on the plastic chair, seeking comfort.
When she couldn’t find comfort, she said, Am I going in this meeting with you?
Perhaps too deep in thought, Ben said, The guy didn’t move.
I’m sorry?
The guy in the camera footage. He didn’t move. He just stood there and let himself get run over.
That’s why I can’t watch news, Caroline said. I can’t watch that. Then she said, Sorry, did you say if I’m going in there with you, when you present our findings to management?
Ben went quiet and serious.
Caroline said, It would be nice to be in there, in the room, networking with management, getting face time with them.
Ben said, Why wouldn’t the guy move?
…
Why would he just stand there?
Caroline said, It would be nice being in the room because managers remember that kind of thing when it’s review and promotion time. They remember networking and employees that got face time.
A door, which led deeper into the management office, opened and a big-haired woman emerged in a floral dress. Her smile was large and appeared quite painful.
The big-haired woman said, They’re ready for you.
But Ben remained where he was seated with his arms crossed and nodding his head to some unknown thought in his mind.
Caroline stood and asked the big-haired woman, Am I joining, too, or? Because that would be great, if I could?
The big-haired woman said no, sorry, you can’t.
Oh.
…
Ben said, Why wouldn’t the guy move?
Why would he just stand there?
After the meeting, Ben and Caroline, that afternoon, went across production lines and followed catwalks to the large steel blending tanks where the portly technician was working with plugs in his ears and no awareness of his surroundings.
Ben waved for the portly technician’s attention and then gestured for the man to remove his ear plugs, which he did with a heavy and irritated sigh and saying, Jesus Christ now what?
Management approved some changes, Ben said.
The portly technician looked to Caroline, perhaps for confirmation, then he said, I ain’t heard no changes.
We got a list here, Ben said. He pointed at Caroline’s clipboard.
When Ben said no more, she realized he was, perhaps, waiting on her.
She said, Oh, you want me to read?
Yes. Read.
Caroline read the list aloud very slowly and clearly, in great detail, and while she did the portly technician made many different unpleasant faces and sounds. When she finished reading, the portly technician was shaking his head but made no acknowledgments or agreements.
Caroline said, Should I read through it again?
I’m doing none of that, none of those changes, the portly technician said.
Sorry?
I been here eighteen years, the portly technician said. He stood quite seriously and was not blinking an eye.
Neither Ben nor Caroline had a response to this, they simply looked at him.
The portly technician said, So…
These are from management, Ben said. These are approved and signed off.
No, I’m-I been down here doing it my way, no one ever said nothing, so, they can come down and tell me themselves they don’t like what or how I’m doing my job. Otherwise, no.
Ben said, Yeah, so, these changes are not optional. They are mandatory.
No. No. Don’t tell me they’re mandatory, don’t tell me that. Nope. Way I’ve been doing things is-no. You-they can approve whatever up there in their little office, up there, they can talk and sign and whatever up there, but, I’m not-no, I’m doing exactly none of that. They want me doing them changes, they can come tell me. I ain’t taking changes from you.
Will you write that down, Ben asked Caroline. Technician refused changes.
Don’t you write that down, the portly technician warned.
Caroline shrunk where she stood. She seemed prepared to say many things but, instead, kept them to herself and made herself appear small and out of the way.
You know about those hit and runs on the news?
Ben said, She’s going to write it down. Caroline, write that down. Refused changes, and add technician being difficult, too. Add that in, and underline being difficult.
But Caroline remained still and seemed so very far inward.
The guy in the camera footage.
He didn’t move.
The portly technician waved at other technicians in the general area, waving for them to remove their ear plugs, and he started shouting, and as he shouted his anger and animation climbed, and he paced and gathered technicians around and shouted, Management’s making changes, they got a list here, a large bullshit list they’re expecting us to swallow, expecting us to open our mouths and say AHHH and swallow a load of bullshit fucking changes down our throats and if we say anything they’re calling us difficult!
Ben and the portly technician descended into argument, shouting in each other’s faces. Other technicians joined and lent their own volume and animation.
Caroline remained out of their orbit, making herself smaller and smaller.
He just stood there and let himself get run over.
Why wouldn’t the guy move?
That night, Caroline was home late, and ate late, and was out of a shower late. She moved slow and her head appeared much too heavy for her shoulders. Around her, the house was quiet and dark, and she was looking at her tired reflection and her wet hair in the bathroom mirror.
She went in the bedroom and dressed for sleep without lights on and crawled in bed. Tom was on his side, breathing deep and slow and his mouth was twisted by sleep.
Caroline found stillness. Her mind did not.
She said, You sleeping, Hon?
The sleeping frame of Tom made no reaction. His slow and deep breathing went uninterrupted, then Caroline tapped him, then scooted close and tapped him.
She said, Hon? Hon?
Tom stirred with grating sounds in his nose and throat.
Hon? Are you sleeping?
Tom said rather sharply, You woke me.
Did the kids go to bed okay?
What?
I’m going to ask to go back on the line tomorrow.
Tom rubbed his face and hair and looked about the darkness of the bedroom.
He said, I was sleeping good. You woke me.
I’m going to see tomorrow if they’ll take me off QA.
Tom said, What? No.
He sat up a bit to see Caroline better.
She said, No?
Tom said, I mean, why?
…
We said this was a good opportunity for you, Tom said. Gil said so, too, remember I told you? His wife took opportunities and-and dealt with the hard stuff, and they’re paying off, those opportunities she took are paying off for Gil.
…
For her and Gil, I mean, and their kids. We said this was good, we said this was advancement.
It’s lateral, Hon, I told you it’s lateral.
Well, it’s visibility and that’s how these opportunities start, Hon. Is this about hard stuff? Hard work stuff? Because we have goals, Hon, and hard work stuff is temporary, it’s-it’s hurdles, Hon, we’re putting up with hurdles because we got goals. Right?
…
Right, Hon?
Caroline lay in the dark. She’d gone quiet and still and was looking at the ceiling.
Tom said, And, look, some people look at hard work stuff and they think, man, this is just going to make me tougher, so, try and think that way, Hon, it’s just-it’s just making you tougher.
Caroline rolled over, away from Tom.
He was still sat somewhat upright, she felt his eyes on her.
Try and think that way, Hon.
Because we have goals…
I encourage everyone to check out my latest collection of short stories if you’re looking for more of my writing.
