Jack wakes up to the sound of screeching. That damn alarm is still stuck between radio stations. He’s told himself for months now that he should tune that damn thing to something more listenable, like NPR. Hell, one of those hokey “sounds of the rainforest” CDs would be less painful. But he knows that the screeching has been doing its job; as soon as he hears it he is up for good. And being up for good is precisely what Jack needs right now. He is a lawyer without a purpose. And he needs a reason to get up in the morning.
Jack rolls over and almost hits the chick’s head. “Shit!” he tells himself. He forgot she was there. She had called him last night asking the usual: “I was just having a drink at Bar X, blah, blah, blah; “sooo…what are you doing tonight, blah, blah, blah?; “well, I was just thinking…if you weren’t doing anything…blah, blah, blah.” So Jack had invited her over. He had been bored and didn’t really have any plans. And getting laid gave him something to do. At least he could feel something. Even if it was just for a little while.
Jack gets out of bed slowly, being careful to avoid her. He steps lightly on the hardwood floors and walks directly to the bathroom. The linoleum is cold under his bare feet as he turns on the lights. The image in the mirror is almost too much to bear. “You can do this,” he tells himself softly. “Just put one foot in front of the other.”
He runs over to the hamper and picks out a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt. As he leaves the bathroom he grabs his backpack and an ipod. Before he can walk down the stairs he hears a groan behind him. “Hey,” she whispers, “don’t you want to come back to bed?” Jack looks over with some compassion. “No. I mean, I can’t. I have to go to work.” He then turns around and walks down to the first floor. “She’s been here before,” he thinks to himself. “She can drop the keys in the mailbox.”
He quickly puts on his bike helmet, grabs his bike and is out the door.