Cubicles - Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Kale looks nothing like I’ve expected him to, I thought there would be some little old man, scrawny and weak. So when I came upon this muscular and strong looking man I couldn’t help but be surprised. His light brown eyes were narrowed and I could practically feel his stern gaze scrutinizing me as if I was a poorly done work of art and he was an art critic. His skin was a little darker than mine, he appeared to be of Hawaiian or Native American heritage, maybe even Spanish. Kale’s face was angular and stern, he appeared to be a statue carved into marble, face positioned into a permanent frown of disappointment. The dark forehead was covered in creases, thoughtful wrinkles, which when they slowly disappeared I nearly sighed with relief.
“Are you Nathanial?” he asks, coughing a little after he finishes speaking and taking the cigarette from between his fingers and puts it into his mouth and he smokes it slowly.
That explains the cough.


Already, I can imagine myself in a hospital, everything is white. Blinding, bright lights shine from the ceiling, and I have to squint. A doctor looks at me dramatically and after a pause whispers.
“You have lung cancer.”
Cue the dramatic soap opera music..
“It seems you’ve been exposed to second hand smoke.”
And I’ll laugh. “It’s a dream come true.” I’d announce. “I’m going to die!”


But my pleasant daydream is interrupted when this Kale fellow clears his throat, and I nod quickly while muttering an apology.

“Come in.” he says, voice losing any sign of friendliness.

The house is trashed, anyone can see that. The floor littered with newspaper articles and wrappings from various packaged granola bars.

“I guess I’m a bit of a health nut.” Kale says in the wheelchair next to me, with a chuckle.

On the wall, framed, are medals from the military and a police badge.
“Were you an officer?” I ask, looking at him.
“Yeah,” he nods, running his fingers through his short black curls. “My father fought in a few wars. But he died from a drug overdose. The war was just too much for him, I suppose.”


I frown, this poor man, he’s lost nearly everything.

“My father’s-” I take a shaky breath, trying to calm down and get the words to escape me. “My father is dead too.” I say, hoping to relate to this man somehow, to form some kind of relationship. “He’d had heart trouble almost his entire life, I guess it finally killed him.”

I’m crying.
I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.
I promised my father not to mourn him.

Kale watches me, the cigarette is placed between his lips, and he pulls it out and smiles at me.

“I tend to have that effect on people.” He says.

I should call my mother and my brother. I’ve avoided them for too long. I wouldn’t be surprised if they hated me.

I hate myself as well.
Maybe we could start a club. We’d call it the ‘I Hate Nathanial Reed’ club. It’d be all the rage. Everyone would join, even my friends – no, especially my friends, and of course I’d be the leader of the club.

“How about I start you off with working outdoors?” Kale says, moving the wheelchair towards the hall closet, with that irritating soft thump as he moves over each floorboard. “When it gets too hot or rains you can work inside.” He takes the cigarette and flicks it into the sink then takes a new one and lights it, before putting it in his mouth then looks at me and raises an eyebrow inquisitively. “Does that sound good to you?’

Of course not, it sounds horrible. I hate this house and I hate you for trying to become my friend. Maybe I should have killed myself. That crash should have slaughtered you - you should have been suffocated by the air bag or crushed to death. You should be road-kill and I should be dangling from a rope. Then the world would be a much better place.

“That sounds great.”

He hands me some gloves, a rake, a shovel, and a garbage bag. Taking the items I head for the front door, only to stop when he weakly grabbed the back of my t-shirt.

“Thank you, thank you so much.” He says to me, and when I see the look in his eyes I feel a little better.

This job could be fun.