Briefcase

Christian Chan

Ms. Tompkins

World Literature Honors

25 April 2014

The Briefcase

Going through his wallet, Wayne picked up an old photo of his family and held it in his hand for a minute. He reminisced about when he was able to spend more time with them before slipping it into his briefcase. He had been moving them around month after month doing various odd jobs, barely making enough to support his two children. It took him a while to find a job at the lumber yard. It was the first full-time job he came across, and while it wasn’t ideal, it was the only option. He took his briefcase, noticing the rusty metal behind the peeling grey paint. As he closed it with a satisfying click, he headed for the old wooden door behind the squeaky screen door of his trailer home. Wayne slipped on his trench coat and stepped out into the heavy overcast. Without anywhere to be, he walked down the gravel road two blocks until he reached the large, daunting gates of the factory. His steps were heavy, as was his heart. He hated menial work. Just thinking about each day ahead made him ponder his life decisions. But it seemed to be the only kind of work he could sustain. His dreams of rising up and becoming the one who told others what to do were distant memory. He would sometimes day-dream, thinking about what his life would lead him to. Maybe he would one day save enough to open a shop of his own and be his own boss. He could only imagine the smile on his wife’s face as he stood up tall and said, “Guess what, we can finally get that new house”. However his years of day-dreaming left him with much to desire. After ten years of hard labor, he could only think about being able to feed his family. He didn’t want to accept it, but his high hopes were beginning to bring him down. Like his other jobs, after a while, he would start to complain about the hours, became more sloppy with his work, show up late on the occasion, or leave early even though he always showed up. He knew he had to support his family and he was the only one employed at the time. If he had to have something to be proud of, it would be his family.

Following orders from the previous day, he arrived at Ed’s office exactly ten minutes before his shift started. Twisting the doorknob with a firm grasp, the locked door told him the boss was not in yet. Gazing at his pocket watch, he let out a sigh and settled in on a nearby bench. Feeling nervous, he placed his briefcase on his lap for security and carefully examined it. As he found himself fidgeting with the broken latches, he remembered the day he bought it. Visiting an antique shop across the road from a gas station, he had carefully picked it out for himself to replace his old leather bag he always brought to work. His wife Karen had admired the color as it reminded her of what the ocean looked like when she was a child. It was a unique case, and she liked to think it was one of a kind, engraved with various sequins, gold metal trims and engravings; but it had seen better days, as the lacquered turquoise finish had deteriorated over the years, leaving behind a rusty gray color. It reminded him of all the past jobs he had obtained and how he stuck with each and every one of them until they were done. He always endured the pain for his family but somehow he always ended up getting fired. “Is this why I’m here?” he asked himself. As he set his hand on the top of the briefcase and tapped his fingers in a pattern, all of a sudden the room felt warmer. He couldn’t lose another job, not now, not again. He could picture the regret he would soon face. His fingers tapped faster, he took out his watch to check the time, and every time he reached up to adjust his glasses he found another reason why he would be fired. “Am I in the right place? Is this how I want to live my life?” He looked up at the wall clock. It was 9 am sharp. Time for his shift. He gathered his things and stood up to join the other workers making their way down the hall towards the stations. As he was about to turn the left corner, a hand grabbed his shoulder and a messenger handed him a letter. Puzzled, he tore the seal and unfolded the paper. Skimming through the small text, his face soon darkened and instead of making his way towards his station, he slowly turned around and headed for the entrance gate.