A Snippet of "Archer Nash" (© 2012)
The line went dead, and Jim came back, all smiles and apologies. Nash tuned out most of what Jim said as he put the phone back into his pocket. Pretending to massage his headache away (which was decreasing to only a solid throb), he blocked Jim's view of his eyes. Nash stole quick glances about, verifying where he was. Satisfied that not too much time had passed and that he was still in Jim's office, he put his hands down. His stone face was back.
"So was that an urgent call?" Jim said gesturing to Nash's pocket where he put the phone.
Silence again. Nash refused to let his expression or demeanor change. Jim smiled and nodded, waiting patiently.
"So what do you think?" Frustration was starting to surface in Jim's voice. "Take some time off, Arch." He cleared his throat, visibly struggling with himself before making the next statement. "Maybe even get some help."
Nash's every muscle tensed. He wanted to spring out of the chair and show Jim what he really thought of his suggestion. But he kept it all in. The throbbing in his head started to intensify behind his eyes. He refused to even furrow his brow.
"See someone," Jim continued. "A doctor, maybe."
The throbbing turned into a shooting pain behind Nash's eyes, but he held his façade. There was a long pause as the two stared at each other. Jim broke first.
"Damn it, Nash! This is half the p-problem right here. This…this…this creepy silence you carry with you everywhere." Jim sputtered and stammered, gesticulating wildly, fighting with the words that even Nash knew needed to be said. "You've got some of the other sales staff scared - SCARED - to work with you or even disturb you. And one of the few times you do talk, it's to yell at a customer because he wanted a blue car. A blue car? What the hell is that all about?"
Jim waited for an answer, but Nash remained silent, forcing his face to remain immutable. There was no defense to offer. No apology or explanation. Nash didn't even acknowledge that Jim had spoken. He only stared and blinked.
"Say something! Please! All the years we've worked together and been friends and you can't say anything to me? Anything? Yell at me! Tell me to go to hell! Scream! Cry! Protest! Laugh! Something! Respond, goddamn it!"
Obviously frustrated and exhausted, Jim went quiet and hung his head. Nash only stared, fighting the nausea and the pain, but refusing to let his expression change. The two sat this way for quite some time, the all too familiar silence returning. This time Nash was the one to break the silence.
"Would it change anything if I did?" His voice was as strong and calm as he could make it.
"So was that an urgent call?" Jim said gesturing to Nash's pocket where he put the phone.
Silence again. Nash refused to let his expression or demeanor change. Jim smiled and nodded, waiting patiently.
"So what do you think?" Frustration was starting to surface in Jim's voice. "Take some time off, Arch." He cleared his throat, visibly struggling with himself before making the next statement. "Maybe even get some help."
Nash's every muscle tensed. He wanted to spring out of the chair and show Jim what he really thought of his suggestion. But he kept it all in. The throbbing in his head started to intensify behind his eyes. He refused to even furrow his brow.
"See someone," Jim continued. "A doctor, maybe."
The throbbing turned into a shooting pain behind Nash's eyes, but he held his façade. There was a long pause as the two stared at each other. Jim broke first.
"Damn it, Nash! This is half the p-problem right here. This…this…this creepy silence you carry with you everywhere." Jim sputtered and stammered, gesticulating wildly, fighting with the words that even Nash knew needed to be said. "You've got some of the other sales staff scared - SCARED - to work with you or even disturb you. And one of the few times you do talk, it's to yell at a customer because he wanted a blue car. A blue car? What the hell is that all about?"
Jim waited for an answer, but Nash remained silent, forcing his face to remain immutable. There was no defense to offer. No apology or explanation. Nash didn't even acknowledge that Jim had spoken. He only stared and blinked.
"Say something! Please! All the years we've worked together and been friends and you can't say anything to me? Anything? Yell at me! Tell me to go to hell! Scream! Cry! Protest! Laugh! Something! Respond, goddamn it!"
Obviously frustrated and exhausted, Jim went quiet and hung his head. Nash only stared, fighting the nausea and the pain, but refusing to let his expression change. The two sat this way for quite some time, the all too familiar silence returning. This time Nash was the one to break the silence.
"Would it change anything if I did?" His voice was as strong and calm as he could make it.
