I often troll through old archives of websites I’ve posted on looking for scraps of my past. I just stumbled upon a copy of a short story I had written in 2003. At that time, I was suffering from severe depression and anxiety disorders, and I was failing out of school. This was for a Fiction Writing course. Enjoy.
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Modern Rock
Sisyphus Jones glanced out the window at the oncoming traffic. The rain poured down onto the streets, and little smoke fumes would bellow out of the people as they walked by on the sidewalk, huddled underneath their umbrellas. To him, it seemed as though they were small locomotives traveling down a sidewalk railroad track, crossing each other as two trains would. He made the turn onto the next street. Today had been a good day at work. His supervisor allowed him extra time at lunch, where he could phone his daughter to see how she was doing. She had gotten the flu a few days ago, and her doctor had recommended she take a few days off from her schooling to get better. His wife had not been pleased with the doctor’s recommendations. She felt that a child should be tough. Sisyphus assumed that this was due to the way she was raised. He pulled into the street where his house was located. The rain had almost stopped, and he thought he could almost see the beginnings of a rainbow in the sky that afternoon. He had never seen one before, and it always seemed like whenever he was about to something would come in the way to disturb it. He reached his driveway, pulling in, making sure he stopped at the mailbox to grab whatever might be in there. It was like a mystery game to him. He enjoyed receiving letters from friends and family. However today, he only received bill payments. The bills never seemed to end. He often wondered what sort of man would willingly be put into a situation where he constantly was requested to give up more of his hard earned money.
“How was work today, Sis?” his wife murmured. Sisyphus had met Delores during a construction job in the downtown area. He had been on lunch break, and she was on her way to classes she was taking at a local technical college. Coincidentally, they would eat lunch at the same restaurant. Sisyphus had never had much luck in relationships, as it tended to seem like one failed venture after another through his high school days. However, he eventually scrounged up the courage to ask her out on a date.
“It was fine, honey. We got in a new order today, we have to rebuild that tower down on 5th and Milkenson, you know the one that got burned down by the arsonist?”
“The one on the news?” Delores rummaged through the bills.
“Exactly. That building had been around a long time. In fact, I think it was our company that put it up originally about 30 or 40 years ago.” Sisyphus walked into the living room. Linda, their daughter, was curled up on the couch asleep. The television blared a commercial, something about a brand new product that he had to buy. Life had been hard for the three of them early on in the city. Being a construction assistant supervisor didn’t pay well, and sometimes Sisyphus pondered whether he should try to get a better job to provide Linda with a future he’d be proud of providing. He let this thought sit with him as he went to bed. His middle-aged body reeled from the lifting he had to do today on the new shipment his company had received. He looked at himself in the mirror. He was much older than his wife, probably more experienced. They had met when he was in his 38, she being only 21, a college student. He was now 47. He wondered if she would ever age.
#
There wasn’t much left of the tower when the fire department finally reached it the night it burned down. Due to the local parade, they had had a difficult time reaching the building in time. Luckily, due to its isolation, the fire hadn’t spread to any other buildings, simply extinguishing the flames within it when the tower eventually collapsed. All that stood now was a smoldering pile of rubble and stone. Sisyphus wondered why the town had voted to rebuild the tower instead of putting something new in its place. It didn’t matter to him really, work was work, and he needed it to provide for his family. However sometimes it seemed somewhat repetitive. After all, his company constructs most of the buildings found around the city. He gazed at the blackened rubble of the former tower in front of him. When the buildings crumble, he’s there to clean it up.
“Hey Sisyphus, take a look at these plans. What do you think about the bracing system here?” One of his co-workers handed him the blueprints. It would take them a few months to rebuild the structure. He would be there to do it too.
The day ended with them finalizing the plans for shipping materials to the building site. Sisyphus started his car and pulled out into the intersection. Afternoon rush-hour traffic had already backed up the roads, so his old car didn’t move much after it was finally allowed onto the road by a friendly driver. With nothing to do, Sisyphus slowly let his gaze drift from straight ahead out towards the sidewalk next to him. The sunset glazed the city streets in an orange glow, partially obscured by various buildings and the occasional buildup of smog. People were scurrying around each other on the sidewalk to get to whatever destination they were headed towards. They appeared to be like rats. The thought of a bunch of giant rats scurrying among the streets of his favorite city quelled an uneasy feeling within Sisyphus that ended up being something between a chuckle and a guffaw.
#
The mail had come again. Sisyphus flipped through the many white envelopes. Most were bills for power, electricity, and medical insurance. He wondered if Linda’s recent battle with the flu had anything to do with the latter. The next letter in the pile was some sort of junk mail advertisement. The large bolded words on the front of the letter seemed to be blaring at him about being able to win millions of dollars, or some other sort of advertisement. He didn’t really care much anymore.
Delores came into the room and rummaged through the refrigerator, pulling out her ingredients for the usual dinner. He dreaded the thought of another helping of her “famous” tomato meatloaf dinner. It apparently was her mother’s famous recipe, but it didn’t sit well with Sisyphus.
“How was work, honey?” she said, as she opened up the thawed hamburger and began to wash her hands. She stared out the window at the neighbor watering plants across the street, not even paying attention to her actions as she performed them perfectly. “We should plant some roses soon, they’re in season, I hear.”
“Today is Saturday.” Sisyphus methodically replied, walking back into the living room to sit down at the couch. Maybe he would fake a stomach-ache tonight to avoid eating the famed meatloaf, he thought to himself. He sighed and picked up the newspaper that was lying on the couch next to him. Linda had already drawn mustaches on the pictures of local politicians in the business section. On the front page, a story read something about an unused bank that a sporting goods chain was planning on buying. The building was old, and would probably be demolished and replaced with a newly constructed store. The sliding door in front of him showed a view of the backyard. Sisyphus laid down the newspaper and walked across the living room to open the door. This was difficult, because he always had a tough time with the latch getting stuck. He knew that if he just jiggled it the right way, it would come open every time. After a couple of tries the thing finally gave up, and Sisyphus felt the cool air of dusk rush into the heated living room. He looked out into the yard. Patches of crab grass had made homes next to toys that Linda had played with the back yard. In the center of the yard lay an old doll. Years of rain and snow had ruined it, and now it was a barely recognizable menace. A few feet next to it sat the small tricycle that Linda had gotten for her birthday. It was only a year or so old, and had barely started to rust from age. In some parts it still retained the shine that Sisyphus remembered seeing reflected in Linda’s eyes when she opened the gift on her birthday. He let his eyes drift more. In the near corner of the yard, only a few feet to the right, was some new doodad that he remembered seeing in some commercial once. It was a child’s toy, and he guessed that Delores had picked it up for Linda last weekend, for it still looked brand new. Given the evidence he’d seen in the yard, however, it probably wouldn’t last forever. More toys would replace it eventually.
Dinner was served on the old oak dining table. It was the famous meatloaf, and Sisyphus approached it with dread. Every Saturday Delores would make this hellish dish, and every Saturday Sisyphus would never get used to it. He figured sometime he’d get completely sick of it and try to break the cycle, but for now he’d let her be content in continuing her family’s tradition. Sisyphus wondered if her father had the same reaction he did when he saw the meatloaf.
Delores looked up from her plate of meatloaf, “What are you laughing about, Sis?”
#
Green. Red. Green. Red. He stared at the traffic lights as they switched back and forth allowing a few cars between them each time like gatekeepers. He slowly moved along in his automobile, moving only a few feet along the road in the daytime traffic. As his attention drifted, he noticed the pedestrians walking along the sidewalk next to him. They all seemed to be scurrying off to locations, with determined looks upon their faces, like ants. He chuckled, reaching down to switch on the radio. A commercial blared, something about a new product he had to buy. He looked back at the ants on the sidewalk. One of them was carrying one of those new clothing items everyone had been talking about. Sisyphus forgot if something like that had come out last year or not. He wondered why anyone would go out and spend lots of money on something like that to be fashionable when something that’s supposed to be even better would come out next year. The commercial finished. The traffic light turned green and Sisyphus moved out into the round-about.
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