The Fuck Up Read Online Free PDF Page A

dispassionate recording. I figured that she was probably there and a whiny plea would only alert her that I was back on the prowl. I still had her key, so I decided to go straight to her house. It was late in the afternoon and now that school was over, there was no reason that she shouldn’t be at home. When I finally reached her apartment, I knocked politely. When there was no answer, I tried inserting my key in the lock.
    In the few business hours that I had slept through that morning, she had called a locksmith and had her lock cylinder changed. It was only then that I realized the unshakeability of her resolution. I got pissed and started to kick the door, but after a while I calmed myself and decided to leave a note: “All is not as bad as it seems. I swear that in the course of our relationship, I never made love to anyone but you. If you don’t believe me you can ask the popcorn girl. I love you dearly and it pains me that you won’t even talk to me. I am staying at Helmsleys. Please give me a call when you can. I love you.”
    When I left her building, I was so confident that everything was repaired that I marched full steam over to the cinema to reclaim my lost job. When I got there, I asked the box office girl if I could see Pepe. She spoke to him on the intercom and then said go right in. As I passed through the theater, I saw some new kidholding a flashlight and laughing at the film. He had obviously just been hired to fill my spot. When he noticed me heading for the office, he intervened.
    “What the hell do you want?”
    “Pepe,” I replied.
    “Oh, you’re Pepe.” He didn’t even have the brains to figure out that I was probably too young to own a theater.
    “I’m sorry boss, go ahead.” This kid wasn’t going to last the week. Pepe was at his desk reading something when I opened his door. Without looking up he asked, “What is it?”
    “Pepe, if I could have my job back …”
    “No.”
    “Just hear me out. I can work twice as hard and you can even lower my pay. How’s that?”
    “No.”
    “But look, it would be a better example, because if you just fire me I might go and get another job with better pay. But this way you can degrade me and then people will never think twice about even asking for a raise.”
    “No.”
    “I’ll tell you what. I’ll work here for two weeks free and then you can decide.”
    Pepe thought about it a moment and then in the same bland tone repeated, “No.”
    He never told me to leave; for that matter he didn’t even have the decency to look up from whatever he was reading. He just kept repeating that word. As I despondently retreated down the stairs, the usher who had effortlessly replaced me dashed up.
    “Are you having a good day, boss?”
    “No, you’re fired.”
    “What?”
    “You’re fired, now get the hell out of here!” I yelled. By being so available he had conspired in getting me fired.
    “But…but…” Inarticulation turned to rage. I watched his face turn red and redder. He was taking it even worse than I had.
    “I’m fired, huh? I’m fired, huh?” he screamed in duplicate. I promptly realized my cruelty. But he was quicker in reprisal than I was in rectification. Instantaneously he grabbed his jacket and dashed into the lobby.
    “Wait a second,” I said, and pursued. I was about to hire him back, but before I could I heard the sudden crash. Rushing out to the lobby, I saw that he had toppled the new cigarette machine to the floor, and before dashing off he yelled, “Go fuck yourself!”
    “What the hell is going on!” Pepe appeared a moment later amidst a crowd that had formed around the smashed machine. He asked the candy girl what had happened.
    “Da new usher, he say … he say bam! to dat machine and den he say go fuck you and den he run off.”
    Pepe was confused. The new guy was working out well. All were baffled. I felt bad. With nothing else to do, I slowly walked down the Bowery and over the Brooklyn Bridge to