What I Deserve
It’s cloudy here, like it always is. A grey tint glazes the blue sky. It’ll definitely rain later. The lawn is still sticky with mud from last night’s rain, making each step forward slightly more laborious. I left my car’s headlights on overnight. I climb into the driver’s seat, dump a stack of scripts on the passenger’s side, and buckle them in. The pile has grown far too high, I can’t leave them sitting there without hearing the incessant beeping of my car, reminding me that my passenger is unsafe. I begin my forty-minute drive to work, slowed down by migraine inducing morning traffic which I only survive because of the soothing voice of my favorite radio host.
“Rain again today, folks! It’ll be clouds and wind until noon, and then it’ll start coming down. That’s sunny Seattle for you! Have a good day, everyone. You deserve it."
Maddy’s show is the only thing I listen to in the car. Somehow he can make the disappointing news of rain, again, seem not so bad. He plays music that I know, which is more than I can say for most other radio stations around here. He’s always there when I need to hear him, whether early mornings or late nights. He makes a dreaded ride into one I can tolerate.
Pulling into the parking lot, my eyes land upon the stack of papers that sits beside me. Another day of telling people what they’re doing wrong, telling comedians they aren’t funny and telling actors they can’t act. I thought that being a show runner would be my big break, especially for a show of my own creation, but my name has become mere fine print beneath the broadcasting company’s logo.
“Palmer, did you read that script I put on your desk? I feel like the writers are getting more out of touch every day. Old fucks. Tell them to rewrite it, please. I have to go to rehearsal.” I sound like such a bitch. I’m drowning in scripts, drowning in questions, drowning in desire to go back home. I finally start my day.
Nine hours later, I’m back with Maddy. The sky is a darker grey, stars hidden by thick storm clouds. The rain is beating down on my car’s windshield like it’s trying to get in, and my poor wipers can’t keep up with it.
“The rain’s coming down and thunder’s soon to follow, so let’s slow it down with some smooth R&B. This was Maddy in the evening, have a great night, everyone. You deserve it.”
I turn the radio off. From here on are just pre-selected songs, the basic top 40 hits with some 2000’s sprinkled in for some variance. When Maddy’s not on, I don’t really care for the radio. I’d rather pretend he’s in the car with me, sitting on top of my stacks of papers, keeping me from swerving into a ditch. I imagine if he was with me, he’d put his arm around the back of my seat, talk to me about all the mindless things he does on his show: local election news, sports team wins, what restaurants he went to over the weekend. I’d vent about my show, about how there’s no winning in television unless you’re a broadcasting executive or a mindless actor getting paid five times my salary. He’d listen to me.
I arrive home soon enough. Without Maddy talking to me in the car, I become absent, zombielike. My muscle memory takes me home without having to use another ounce of brainpower.
I shake off my umbrella on the porch, drenched from the forty second walk from the driveway to the front door. Opening the door, I notice water spilling down the stoop. Fuck. My floor is covered with nearly an inch of water, probably from a leak in the windows that I never got resealed. My shoes are floating by the door, rugs doing their best to absorb what they can, but failing miserably. It’s everywhere, the bathroom, the kitchen, my bedroom. It almost seems like I left a faucet on, but the silence of the house, aside from a rhythmic dripping, tells me otherwise.
It’s not like this place is particularly nice, ceilings slant, the walls stained with water damage, the doorknobs are painted over so many times they barely turn anymore. So I don’t really give a shit. Houses flood all the time here, it’s the rainiest city in the country. The floors are vinyl, the water won’t damage it too much. I shove a bucket under the leaking window and go to sleep. At least my sheets are dry.
I wake up damp. The water is still covering the floor, maybe an inch and a half now. I’ll call someone to take care of it on the way to work, maybe it’ll be fixed by the time I get home.
I grab my scripts from atop the fridge, the only place I knew wouldn’t get soaked overnight. I get a banana and a granola bar, and wade through to the front door, picking up my soaked shoes on the way. It’s still raining.
In the car, I turn the radio up.
“Another rainy Tuesday here in Seattle, I hope you packed your umbrella,” Maddy tells me. “But it’s not all bad news to start your morning. Today is national coffee day! Get a cup of something warm to keep you cozy in this rain. Treat yourself, you deserve it. Now get ready for some of your favorite pop hits.”
Somehow I’m in a Starbucks parking lot. I don’t even like their coffee, it’s too bitter. But Maddy told me I could treat myself today, so I will. I get a large light roast and pile five heaping spoonfuls of brown sugar into it. I cringe a little when I take a sip, remembering why I never come here.
I get to work and do the same shit I did yesterday. Edit, direct, yell, repeat. It all makes me want to pick up smoking again. I don’t know how I ever get out of here, the pile of papers on my desk awaiting my approval is ever-growing. I don’t think even a coked up librarian could read that much in a day. It’s impossible.
In the car, again, with Maddy. The rain is still coming down, slower than yesterday, but I still keep my wipers on high.
“What a beautiful evening it is, folks. I hope everyone had a great day, and if you didn’t, I’m sure tomorrow will be better. Take some time to yourself tonight, forget all your worries, go to bed early. You deserve it. Goodnight, Seattle.”
I smile at his words. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Maddy hasn’t led me astray yet. I’ll follow his orders and go right to bed, assuming it hasn’t floated away.
I get home to water halfway up my shins. I forgot to call the maintenance guy in the car, Maddy distracted me. Their offices are probably closed by now. I can wait until tomorrow, I really should go to bed early. Maddy said to.
[feedback appreciated! i need to keep writing obvi but also looking for whatever doesnt make sense/ could use tightening]
