Short Story - Untitled Part 2

 10:30 AM November 19, 2020.

I don’t know how long I sit motionlessly in my car after those two idiots kick me out of the elevator, maybe an hour or so. I’ve been trying to figure out what this madness is. What’s happened? What’s going on? Why’s everybody acting like this? Oh, God! What’s happening to me? What’s happening to everyone? They act like I’m a stranger. Like an instinct, I call my parents who’re living fifty miles away from here to check if everything’s alright, but no one answers. It’s weird. My parents are always awake and having breakfast in the kitchen during this time. Something’s wrong. At once, I ignite the engine, drive out of the garage, turn left, and head to my parent’s place.

11:31 AM November 19, 2020.

The digital clock says 11:32 when I stop in front of my childhood home. I knock on the door. No one answers. I circle behind the house where the little garden is to see if they are there, but I see no one. They’re not at home. Where are they? I try their mobile phones but all I hear is a sequence of emotionless monotones of “toot… toot… toot…” sound. They don’t answer my call. I phone my younger sister - Naomi, but she, too, doesn’t answer my phone call. I get back in the car and drive back to downtown where my sister’s workplace is. I get there but the receptionist says that she’s taking a leave today. Where are they? Mom, dad, and Naomi… Grandpa. I call my grandfather on his mobile phone; he’s taking a camping trip with his old buddies, but the call doesn’t get through. What’s this about? Why’s everyone all of sudden disconnected? Can anybody tell me WHAT’S GOING ON HERE? I literally thinking out loud those last four words. Jane! Jane! That’s right. Maybe she knows what’s happening.

12: 10 PM November 19, 2020

Jane is a painter and owns a small gallery downtown where she stays most of her time. I grab the back door's key of the gallery, which Jane gives me, and plug it in the keyhole and open the door or I suppose so. The door doesn’t open like it used to. I try again and again but the door remains locked. “Open up! you goddamn door!” in rage, I thump the door repeatedly. “Who is it?” a voice behind the door comes up, “who’s there?” that’s Jane. “It’s me, John,” thank God she’s here. “Open the door, Jane. The key that you gave me doesn’t work somehow.” The door opens followed by a figure. Jane stands at the threshold and alertly asks me: “Who are you? Why do you know my name?” A surge of unusual feelings filling up in me. “It’s me, John. Don’t tell me that you don’t know me, do you? Something weird happened today. When I came to work this morning, everybody acted like they didn’t know me; they treated me like a stranger. This is so ridiculous. I’ve been working there for a decade, and all of sudden, they said they didn’t know who I was. Can you believe it? Come, let’s go inside. I’ll tell you more about this.” Jane’s still standing there and with a mixture of confusion, anxiety, and a suspicious look on her face. After a while, she says: “look Mister, I don’t know why you claim that you’re my fiancé, John, but I don’t know you and I don’t want to hear your story either. I see you’re trying to break into my place, and that’s illegal behavior. I want you to leave here or I’ll call the police.” My heart feels like sinking to the bottom. “Not you too, Jane,” I frustratedly talk to her, “today’s madness is enough to me. Everybody’s acting insanely and I think at least you’re not one of them.” Jane’s calling her mobile phone: “Hello, a man is trying to break into my place and harassing me. Yes, my name is Jane. I’m calling from…” She hangs up the says: “I’ve called the police. I suggest you leave here at once.” I feel a pain in me. “No, I’m your fiancé. I’m John Wellington. I’m not going anywhere!” Jane suddenly shuts the door in front of me and yells from the other side of it: “The police’s coming. You need to get out here, now.” Like a madman, I kick and thump at the door again and again shouting: “Open the door, Jane. We need to talk. Open the goddamn door.” A sharp and hurried sound comes up behind me. A police car stops. Two uniformed officers get out of the car. Jane opens the door and shouts out to them while pointing at me: “It’s him. He’s trying to break in my place and saying odd stuff.” Two policemen approach me and do exactly what those two security guards did to me a few hours ago, but this time with a handcuff on my wrists. They escort me into the vehicle. Jane’s talking to one of the officers for a while; then she gets inside and shuts the door behind her.

12:42 PM, November 19, 2020.

“I’ve told you a hundred times already. I’m not an intruder. I don’t want to break into anybody’s house. That’s place is my fiancée’s gallery. Her name’s Jane and she gives me a backup key to the back door. I don’t know why she’s acting like I’m a stranger. She’s acting very weird. Actually, everybody’s acting weird, today.” I’m sitting in the back of the police vehicle trying to explain to two officers in the front seats when the digital clock in the car indifferently tells 12: 50 PM. “She said she didn’t know who you are. Her fiancé’s name is John Wellington working at a big company,” One of the officers turns around and talks to me “and you’re not him.” He holds in his hand my ID card and nonchalantly warns me: “I don’t know where’d you get this fake ID. It’s excellently forged I’ve to admit. Unfortunately, using forged documents violates federal law. We’re going to have a serious conversation at the station, my friend.”

“It’s the real one,” I feel extremely outrageous, “I’m not using forged ID.” Two idiots in the front seats ignore me and talk to each other like I don’t exist. I don’t know for how long; they stop in front of a convenience store and both of them get out of the car and go inside. I see the handcuff’s key on the passenger front seat. A crazy idea suddenly pops up in my mind. I grab the key, uncuff myself, open the front door, and slip out before those two idiots notice. I run as fast as I can without a destination. I just want to get away from there.

16: 35 PM, November 19, 2020.

In an abandoned four-story edifice, I hide on the third floor after running away. The sun is about to set in the west, dying an orange color upon the sky. It’s such a beautiful view, but I’ve got no time to appreciate it. Right now, all that’s filling my mind is this madness. Why does Jane act like that to me? Why is everybody acts like they don’t know me? Why? WHY?

I’ve been sitting here for hours trying to figure out what’s going on. It seems like somebody trying to rob my identity, my life. But for what purpose? What do they get from this? Should I call the police? No, I can’t trust them. What am I going to do now? I distractedly look outside the window toward the tolling sound of the clock tower not far from here. It’s 17: 00 PM already. The meeting with potential clients is over. What a pity. I got a telephone call from Dan that a group of potentially important clients wanted to visit the company yesterday evening. He said that he needed my help in welcoming these potential clients. Hence, it was this morning's meeting’s purpose. Wait for a second! A sudden thought flashes through my mind. Now I carefully think of it there’s something unusual with this meeting. Why is it so urgent? Why is it so early in the morning? Potential clients normally don’t want to meet so early in the morning. And why me? Dan can ask his colleagues in the same department to help him. We’re not in the same department. I need to go home and check the phone call from Dan yesterday. There must be some clues in it.

18: 15 PM, November 19, 2020.

I get off the bus and surprisingly see that my car is parking in front of my house. Why is it here? who drove it back? was it Jane? But she claimed this morning that she didn’t know me. Then why did she have to act contradictorily like this? I lurk to the rear of the house, hide in a bush behind the garden. I sit there and anxiously wait. After a while, I slowly approach the back door and realize that door is unlocked. Someone’s here or was here. I nervously pushed the door inward; and waiting for me is nothing but a thick veil of darkness. I reach out to the switch on the left. Here it is. I press the switch and prepare for whatever hostility may be hurling at me. The lights are on and there’s indeed something waiting for me but it’s not what I thought. “SURPRISE!” to my surprise, my parents, grandfather, sister, Jane, Dan and two scores of my colleagues are there. “Happy Birthday, John.” The situation still perplexes and bewilders me. As if knowing what I’m thinking, Jane hugs me and reveals the mystery: “It was all a prank, John. We’ve been preparing this for weeks to celebrate your birthday. I’m sorry. I said to them that it was a little bit extreme, but Dan assured me and your family that there was nothing to worry about.” I turn to Dan who’s standing next to me with his signature grin. Dan says: “I’m sorry to fool you like this John. Everything is a prank; the morning meeting to make you leave home early, the fake John Wellington with the pretending of everyone to make you feel frustrated and angry, and the right-in-the-moment appearance of those two fake cops. Everything went almost perfectly as plan except for a flaw. And we were afraid that you would see through our prank.” I recalled every detail that was happening this morning, and this was it. It was Mike the senior officer of the Marketing Department. He couldn’t say “you’re not John Wellington” if he pretended that he hadn’t known me before. I just asked them to tell the security guys who I was at the time. I didn’t tell them my name. What a moron I was that I didn’t notice it. I look back to the crowd at my house, there I see Mike, my secretary, and the actor played the role of me named Sean and the other two men playing the cops. It’s all a joke. How silly of me. I burst out a laugh and join them in celebrating my birthday, a birthday anniversary that I’ll never forget.

The End.