4.38 My Life is Boring
Been feeling like my life's a bit boring lately. Looking for things to write about, which pushed me into thinking exactly why I felt bored. After all, boring can be good, in a way, should be glad to have an uneventful life. As stated in previous entries, I do try to make myself seem more interesting than I actually am. But in the end, wherever you go, there you are and some things just can't be spun into something more exciting. So, what I'm about to tell you is not boring. So not boring that I've had to take out some of the best bits in order to make this story not so outlandish, so utterly false-seeming that your belief will be impossible to suspend. I'm sticking to the facts because life is weird and a person can get way over their head quickly and with an efficiency that continually shocks me. Actually, this happened a few weeks ago but I am still putting together the facts and have wondered about my sanity on more than one occasion.
Okay. On the night in question, I arrived home. Pulled into the parking garage, drove slowly around to my spot, turned off the car. Sat, as I sometimes did. There's something about arriving home, having survived driving around in the city, and for a moment every once in a while, I collected myself in the near silence, the only noise a dull humming emanating from pipes overhead. Boring, tonight's moment consisted of a contemplation over my boring life. There's something lonely about a parking lot. Lots of cars, lots of space for these cars, but no people. People are in garages like this one for as short a time as possible.
Looked up and into my side mirror. Noticed a grey van parked in the row behind me. Noticed the driver's side door was opened. No people around. I'd been sitting in my moment of boredom for a few minutes, would've heard someone. Shook off the van. Collected my things, headed for the stairwell. Something stopped me, like a tap on the shoulder. Turned back, walked up to the van. Stood in front of it, looked around. No one. Felt the engine - still relatively warm. The driver's side window was down, I grabbed the door with both hands, pushed it closed a bit to get around to have a look. Keys were in the ignition. It occurred to me that this would be an awkward situation if the rightful owner of the van had simply forgot their keys and at any moment rushed down and found me snooping.
These thoughts went away when I saw the blood on the car seat and heard the thumping from the back.
Stepped slowly around the van, stood in front of the back door. Saw nothing through the tinted windows. Tried the handle, the door opened, the hydraulics echoing through the emptiness. Boxes were stacked in the back, one or two almost slipped out. Stopped, listened. Thump, thump, thump. Pushed some of the boxes aside and found a latch for a door. Clicked it open, out jumped a blonde-headed woman. She went to hit me until she realized I wasn't whoever put her here. Plus, hard to hit me when she was handcuffed behind her back. She slumped down, breathing hard through a gag in her mouth. Pulled the gag out.
"I'm calling the police," I said.
"No," she said desperately. "He'll hurt me."
As in a movie, we heard the door across the parking garage.
"Come find me," she said, replacing the gag and going back to her place. Steps got closer, so I closed the latch, pulled the back door down, shut it quietly, hoping it wasn't heard. Quickly, I ran a few car lengths away, ducking low behind a green Taurus. Watched a tall man all dressed in black as he approached the van. He stepped around to the back, stopped, looked around. He opened the back, shuffled the boxes around. The woman appeared, he whispered in her ear, uncuffed her. They walked away side by side, him with a hand tightly grasping her arm. Following quietly, I waited until they went into the stairwell. Ran over, up the stairs, quietly opened the door. The condo development I lived in was laid out like townhouses, the outside cold air hit my face, making me even more awake and focused. They walked up to a door, but before entering, the man stopped, turned around, looked right at me. Kept walking, pretended I was just another resident arriving home for the evening. He watched until I walked around the corner of the building, took everything in me not to turn around.
Heard the door open-close, I ran to the corner of the building. What the hell was I supposed to do? Walked around the back, saw some shadows in the windows. If I could get to the second floor balcony, maybe the door was open? I'm not this kind of guy. But I had to try. Tested the drainpipe running along the side of the house. Climbed on top of a small stone fence, put my foot on a divot that fastened the drainpipe to the wall. Took a step, hand over hand, slowly made it level with the balcony. Only one thing left to do: jump. Almost missed the balcony, my feet swung back and forth beneath me. Pulled myself up and over the railing. Caught my breath for a damn minute. Tested the door and it opened.
Stepped slowly inside the bedroom. The woman was handcuffed to the radiator. She looked up, saw me. Wide-eyed. Took the gag out of her mouth.
"The key is over on the dresser," she whispered.
Uncuffed her and we made our way downstairs. No sight of the man dressed in black. We got to the front door and that's when I heard the click. We froze.
"Where do you think you're going?" The gravely voice asked.
We turned to him, he had a revolver pointed at my chest.
"We're leaving," I said not so confidently.
At that moment, the woman ran to the door and I saw the flash of the muzzle. And it wasn't the only thing that flashed.
It really does happen, that whole life flashing in front your eyes just before you die. Unfortunately, all of my failures circulated my head, swirled around and I got a good look at them. Tried desperately to push them out, away, but all that remained was all the times I failed to take action, to try and make a better life for myself and the people around me, the people I loved. Dwelled so much on my failings and here at the last moment I can't get away from them and I wondered if maybe I tried thinking of something else sometimes, tried focusing on the good things in my life, even just a little bit more perhaps I could have changed for the better. Become a better person. Maybe, maybe not.
The gun fired and I felt nothing.
Came back to reality and the man and woman were on the floor laughing. Fake gun, fake bullets, fake kidnapping. They tried to explain to me that it was all an elaborate type of role playing they did. I ran out of there wondering what the hell just happened, ran to my place, locked the door behind me, chest thumping, out of breath and thought, At least my life isn't boring.