It was never the everyday problems that bothered Morgan, he could deal with debt and plan how to deal with life’s up and downs. No what really set him on edge was problems that didn’t need to happen. This morning looked like a good example.
“Ok where are the keys” he muttered going through the motions of searching while actually looking at the clock on the wall. His wife Joanne’s creativity in tidying had been long established as superior to his ability to find where things had been put so the most productive strategy was waiting for her to tell him where she had put things this time. Watching Joanne as she came downstairs he felt a moment of satisfaction at how she had retained her looks. She was short but she had always been more concerned about her figure than he had about his and she still had some of the looks that he had been unable to ignore in his twenties. Brushing her short brown hair she stretched her diminutive frame and peering up at him asked what’s the problem?
I need to get Annie to school and the car keys aren’t where I left them Morgan grumbled. Joanne asked ‘have you looked in the draws in the downstairs toilet?’. Despite long experience that the question was pointless it still slipped out ‘ok why would they be there’. Joanne just glared at him all traces of good humour evaporated and replies ‘you never tidy up and just leave things lying around’.
Morgan let the well rehearsed argument go getting the keys and going to the car mumbling that was not an answer to the question. They had been married for nearly two decades now, some arguments could just be assumed to be worthless. He had to take Annie to school and then go straight onto work, the delay with the keys was not what he needed and arguing would just take more time leaving them both upset and hurt.
Getting to the drive he eased himself in to his average but aging car trying hard not to think about how well that described him. Never accused of being handsome he was slowly morphing from middle aged spread to getting sympathetic looks from the doctor at his annual well man clinic. He was pleased that his hair was all still there but had to concede that the young man who had enjoyed kayaking would now sink anything he tried to paddle. Mercifully his introspection was cut short when his daughter Annie got in the car adjusting her school skirt. At 14 she was just developing into a woman and was already taller than her mother but Morgan thought he would always be taller than his little girl.
While he drove Annie to school he tried to engage her in small talk but it was just met with silence until he got near the school gates. ‘Pull over and let me walk – they laugh if my dad brings me’ she suddenly piped up. ‘Thanks dad – love you!’ she says as slamming the door closed and running off. Taking a moment to watch her mingle into the crowds at the gate he headed off with a faint smile which persisted until he reached work.
Lfanda shipping factors was a company that arranged for exotic items to be shipped around the world and had a small but growing reputation for getting items on time and safely to the customer. Morgan had worked there ever since leaving university with a history of philosophy degree. His competence and time served had pushed him up the ranks almost despite himself. As he did every day he put on what he liked to call his game face when he walked in, he may have preferred a more junior role but he had reached middle management now and a certain demeanour was expected. Nodding hello as he met the staff he sat in a chair which creaked alarmingly as he sat down. Senior enough to have his own private workspace his desk was always clutter free, the chaos was in the draws hidden from others. He started to pull out printouts covered in notes. With another glance at the clock he organised his days work.
All meetings are boring. Morgan’s mind briefly wandered into thoughts about if the purpose of meetings was to test if people cared enough to attend. As the most senior person in the room it was his job to encourage and motivate others to talk, Gareth had enthusiastically agreed to explain Shanghai portage certificates and had been droning now for several minutes. Pulling himself together he saw Gareth finally stop talking and beam expectantly at the room where everyone else also seemed to be rousing from a stupor ‘yes thank you for that it was quite clear and informative’ Morgan said raising some laughter from a few attendees, the talk had clearly been neither. The interrogation began but Gareth gazed with fury at the man who he thought had encouraged then mocked his presentation.
The meeting ran long with lots of people wanting to have their say. Being negative is always easier than being positive and provided nobody is directing it at you more fun as well. Morgan’s attempts to rein some of the feedback in had failed miserably and after the meeting Gareth had taken him to one side to berate him for organising an attack on his ideas. Despite really not caring that much he offered to help in the future but even that was rebuffed. Obviously Gareth had a bruised ego which would need to be soothed in the future, now however was not the time.
It would with hindsight have been somehow fitting if anything abnormal had happened but it was just another day. Leaving work the radio seemed to be full of some sort of speculation about the weird lightshow in the southern hemisphere 3 days ago. Seemingly there had been some strange gravitic effects at the same time and this could mean things that alleged experts guessed about for a fee. It might have been important to people who cared about this kind of thing but Morgan was not one of them.
Morgan changed channels looking for music and finally some eighties beats soothed him, whatever that science stuff was he assumed in a year or two he’d watch a documentary explaining it. For now the media just seemed to be finding new ways of shrugging their shoulders. Traffic home was light and he was actually home before Joanne for once. Shouting upstairs to Annie to turn the music down he relaxed in his favourite chair.
His phone ringing woke him less than an hour later, Joanne was going to be late as her relief had not arrived. He had initially been glad when the call centre had made her a team leader. He had hoped that progress and responsibility would help her, help them somehow to connect. Instead she just seemed to prioritise work over both him and Annie. He couldn’t call her out on it she would just use the same arguments he had about doing it for the family, still something about the situation made him sad.
Suddenly restless and looking for purpose he had a thought, stop moping and start acting. In the next 15 minutes Annie was palmed off on the neighbours and a Chinese restaurant near the call centre had a table for two booked. The drive into town was surprisingly clear and humming the words “Act not react” to something which might once have been a Gina G tune he felt positive. When he got to the call centre he parked up and approached the building planning how to sweep Joanne off her feet.
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The security at reception knew him and after a quick call up asked him to wait while Joanne came down. He wondered if he should have brought flowers, if he was going to act on impulse maybe go the whole hog? While pondering this the lift doors opened and Joanne edged out with a confused look and tone asking “why are you here”. Standing up and sweeping towards her he embraced her then leaning back told her about the restaurant. Joanne hesitated then with a frown asked “yes but why? What’s happened?” then her face fell “ Oh you’ve been sacked haven’t you. This is your way of breaking it to me gently”.
Morgan frowned and with a slightly irritated tone corrected her. “No I have not been sacked, I wanted to surprise my wife who works hard and does well for her family” then after an awkward pause asked “what’s wrong with my job?” Joanne visibly reset herself hugging him saying “No I just worry you know, the worst thing and all that. Its just me being silly. Look let me get my purse and then you can treat me to some expensive wine” going back to the lift and pressing the call button she turned back with an odd look on her face. If he had to guess it was part irritated and part relieved.
A few minutes later on the way to the restaurant whilst chatting about everything and nothing the question about his job still ran through his mind. There are few things he is sure of but one of them is that he is good at his job, his knowledge of obscure customs regulations and procedural approach might be mind numbingly dull but he has never had a customer lose a shipment or pay a fine. In his role that counted as a major feat. People requested him. By name.
His irritation with that was enough that he could not see how distracted Joanne was. A more aware man might have been disturbed that she texted someone and then turned her phone off. He might have wondered why she was wearing her best jewellery and expensive perfume. The speed with which she was able to leave her important work. Oblivious to all these cues and clues as they sat down to eat he tried to talk to her about his day but the lack of response eventually ground the conversation down. The last third of the meal was ate in silence.
The food was excellent as always and the bill was also large again as always. With the nagging feeling that he had missed a subtext somewhere the bill was paid. Smiling at Joanne he suggested they should do this again, a suggestion which met with reluctant agreement.
They piled out as soon as the food was finished eager to avoid imposing on the neighbour or to hear Annie complain about being abandoned and threatening to send them therapist bills when they were in nursing homes. Radio on they both settled into the comfortable silence which most journeys composed of. Traffic still light edging onto the A road to home he thought about flowers and then thought about buying rosebushes and planting them. It may have distracted him but the jolt and the bang on the rear focused him as he pulled over glaring in the mirror at the white van that had rear ended him. Joanne gave a little shriek then looking over started to root round in the glove box for the insurance documents ‘lets just exchange details and get home” she said ‘bout time the premiums did something’. With that she pushed the documents at Morgan and sat back glaring at him as if this was somehow his fault.
Rallying his thoughts Morgan got out approaching the van ‘don’t worry were alright are you all ok” but his next sentence died in his mouth as a young redheaded man got out and stalked towards him shouting “ you senile old fart what the bloody hell have you done to my Van”. After some shock he tried to do the British thing, calm it down with false humour and bonhomie but his joke about modern art was never completed as his shirt was grabbed and suddenly someone was shouting in his face. Someone who was younger than him, fitter than him, seemingly stronger and very aggressively shouting something about the van being his livelihood and why had he being driving slowly anyway.
Very few people can make the mental leap from a normal day encounter to incipient violence fast enough to make a difference in any developing situation. Everyone after an event knows how they could have been the hero, what they should have said. Some people even convince themselves that they have, that they are the cool ones who keep calm and do the right thing. Really the chances that is true are quite small. Most people do what Morgan did, he panicked and started apologising.
It did not help, instead of calming him down the young man seemed to take the apologies as validation that he had been wronged and just became more incoherent. Suddenly he was being dragged to the van and then pointing to a damaged fender he was asked what he was going to do about that? Grabbing on to a solid sensible thought Morgan with some relief realised he knew the answer to that produced his insurance documents waving them vaguely said “look let’s not worry, just exchange details and let the brokers deal with it eh?” because yes he realised that would get him away from this lout and let’s see how his aggression dealt with lawyers anyway.
“Hows that gonna help” the young man screamed into his face and suddenly the very real threat that this manhandling might move onto an actual assault rose to the top of Morgan’s mind. If he didn’t want to exchange details was he even insured? Was he drunk? High? Just a yob who dealt with problems with his fists? It had been a long time since he had been in a brawl but his breathing and heart rate started to pick up. What to do, what to do, photograph the man and the van and the car and do it without antagonisi...
The first blow took him completely by surprise interrupting his thoughts. A sudden pain in his ribs that he reached down to protect. Too late he realised that he had dropped his arms and a burst of white light splayed across his vision as what seemed to be an enormous hand bounced off his eye socket. Another blow took him close to his already hurt ribs and his attempt to guard was again foiled as he instinctively moved to protect the injury. He was never sure whether this occurred to him at the time or later when he thought about it but it seemed to him that his attacker had a plan, that he knew how to use pain to make peoples bodies betray them. Whether it was training instinct or experience he was beating the snot out of him.
He was struck many times and lost track of what was happening to him, at one point starting to curl into a ball better to endure. Suddenly a moment of clarity came to him, he may be older slower and weaker than this thug but he was bigger and heavier. Perhaps he could grab him and smother him somehow. Rolling up he burst into action flailing and grabbing caught hold of him and started shaking him. Remarkably this seemed to work for a few seconds and the redhead broke free. For a moment they just stared at each other then the thug looked down and screamed “now you’ve done it” going back to the van he pulled out a long piece of wood. He should have run or called the police or anything, instead he just looked at him and asked “Whats that for? You need that for an old fart like me?”
“No just fed up of hurting my hands on your thick skull” at which point he strode in with a hard expression on his already twisted face, less skilled with the wood than with his hands he did not need to be subtle. It was perhaps a mercy that the second blow took Morgan on the temple as he never got to hear the sounds of wood hitting and breaking flesh.
Even as his vision whited out, details becoming indistinct something distracted him. His brain was not working and he could feel that his thoughts were wrong but even though his leg had not been hit yet the agony from his leg was sudden and shocking. In panic he stared down and saw the blood pumping out of his left leg the red vivid in the white haze. The pain was over whelming and seemed entirely without cause. As his head was struck by the wood he at least could stop worrying about it. As everything went dark he did note once more that this was not a sensible way to be thinking.