Deception

The year was… a long time ago. This is either a story about film noir enthusiasts or actual gangsters.

Anyway, the year was 19-something. A shadowy figure sporting a trench coat and fedora makes their way through a dark alley.

“I had come to confront Richard,” the man says to himself. “Lord knows it has been too long. But taking responsibility for his actions has never been his style.” A couple walking by stares as he speaks to no one.

As he approaches a tall building, he looks up to see a silhouette of a man standing in the window. He knew it was Richard. The man takes a deep breath and enters as if these might be his final moments.

Sauntering down the hallway, he continues his narration. “I wasn’t sure how Richard would react to me showing up unexpectedly but I --”

“Charles,” says Richard, appearing out of nowhere. Charles is visibly shaken.

“I’ve been expecting you,” he says.

“Oh, right,” says Charles. The two stand there in silence.

Richard motions to the door. “Would you like to come into my office?”

“Yes, I suppose that would be fine.”

Richard sits down at his desk while Charles takes a seat in front of him, practically sitting in the dark.

“Would you mind removing your hat, Charles? I can hardly see your face.”

“Would you mind adding a lamp or two in here? I think that could help,” he retorts. Richard slams his hand down on his desk.

“You know damn well I like my lighting dim, Charles!”

“Yes. Yes, I remember. That’s not all you like, Richard.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” he yells.

“I was there, Richard! Don’t you remember??” Charles is losing his patience.

Flashbacks start flooding back: he still sees Richard clear as day reaching into their refrigerator to grab a carton of milk. The carton has Charles’ name written on it. Margaret, the receptionist, enters the office, ending his flashback.

“I thought we were past this! What will it take to put this all behind us?” Richard pleads.

“Good heavens, are you guys still talking about this??”

Charles can’t believe her attitude towards the situation. “He drank my milk, Margaret! MY milk!”

She’s already had enough. “You both are in your forties and live with a roommate! No one asked you to do this!”

“You know, Margaret has a point,” Richard says, coming to her defense.

“No, I don’t want to hear it from you! This is the reason we got divorced. You two have an unusual relationship that I will never understand nor do I care to. From now on, I am just your receptionist! Do not include me in your drama.”

Margaret, who is nothing if not professional, quickly switches gears. “Sir. Here is that muffin you requested.” She leaves the room. Charles and Richard sit with what just happened.

“I suppose… it was… just a carton of milk,” says Charles.

“Are you sure? It’s been six months since we last spoke," says Richard.

Giving in, Charles reaches for the pastry. “The muffin. I’ll have the muffin.”

“Of course, this muffin has your name on it." He peeks his head out the door. "Margaret, can I get a carton of milk for my friend here?”

“Get it yourself!”

He turns back to Charles. “I may need a new receptionist.”

Charles gathers his belongings, as he had accomplished what he set out to do. He mumbles to himself, under his breath, “This was not the visit I had imagined but I believe Richard and I’s friendship is now stronger than ever before.”

“Did you say something?” Richard sits, eating the muffin he promised him.

Stunned, all Charles can manage is a deep sigh.