Welp, that was almost twenty years ago.
Paula and I got married in April of 80', I proposed to her about 3 weeks after the KISS concert. We were happy and full of young love, I moved out of my Mom's house right before the wedding, and Paula moved out of hers around the same time. We lived in the same apartment as Joey and Angela for about two years until Paula became pregnant with my first born daughter, Cindy. Not too long after we found out I applied for a office job in Phoenix, promising more money, about a week later I got a call that I got the job.
We moved to the suburbs of Phoenix, Scottsdale to be exact. I made enough to get a two story house in the area, and a brand new red 1983 Chevrolet Camaro Z28 for myself while my wife was a stay at home mom who made some extra money on the side selling Avon door to door every now and then and drove a pretty nice white 1981 Oldsmobile Custom Cruiser as the family car. Man, life was sweet. In September of 85' my youngest son, Brandon, was born. Things were still good my marriage with Paula, taking the family on road trips to Los Angeles whenever we had the time and going out to eat at a sit down restaurant every Friday I was paid.
Things started to go downhill in December of 1986 when my mom passed away at 59 due to a stroke. The funeral occurring New Year's Day 1987. She was buried in the same cemetery as my older brother, their graves side by side. After that me and Paula started fighting a lot more than we used to, yelling matches over the smallest things, like what clothes Cindy should wear to school, or what we should have for dinner that day or something equally as stupid. That entire year wasn't all that great, but things didn't get really bad until July 1988.
I remember the date well, July 20th 1988, a Wednesday. We were on a resort in Cancún, one of my fellow coworkers was talking about how he visited with his wife a couple of weeks ago at work, so I took about week off to go visit with my family, never really leaving the country before, and even then I haven't left the Southwest that much besides California and Florida and Pennsylvania, and those two states last were just for my job. So I schedule a resort stay and flight to Mexico, getting all of our passports the day before the flight. My wife seemingly pleased about this. We get there Monday, and I'll admit, I was being too loose, avoiding speaking Spanish at any expense and drinking more alcohol than usual, being a Ugly American, which I regret. But to be fair, I wasn't the only person acting this way on the resort, many other Americans acting like I did were there too. The breaking point was that Wednesday, when I got more drunk than usual one night near the pool and tried fighting one of the resort employees, pushing one into the pool out of anger. I got arrested by one of the security guards, trying to fight them off but quickly met with a uppercut to the chin. The worst part about this is that the pool was crowded so everyone saw, I saw my wife covering her face in shame and taking my kids out of the pool and back to our room. That's when I started to feel bad.
I was placed in Mexican jail for about two days, my charges were dropped but being banned from visiting the resort ever again. It was a quiet plane ride back home, my wife screamed at me the night we returned when our kids went to bed. She wanted a divorce, and I understood. In about 4 months, in January 1989, the divorce was official. She moved and took the kids to Seattle, since her parents had retired there.
It's been ten years since then, and this is my life now.
Monday, August 16th, 1999
My alarm goes off, my alarm radio blasting some song called "She's So High" from what I can tell from the lyrics, my attempts of changing the radio to the classic rock station instead of the top 40 seemingly unsuccessful, the radio always re-tuning itself to 104.7 whenever the alarm goes off. I get up, now being 43, I wear a white tank top and underwear to bed. The time currently being 7:15am on the clock. I turn the radio off and go into the nearby bathroom and take a shower.
Not too long after the divorce ten years ago I moved out of the old house, selling it in May of that year. I hated apartment living so I just bought a one story house not too far from the Scottsdale College.
After I get out of the shower I brush my teeth and quickly get dressed and do my usual routine of pouring out a bowl of Corn Pops and milk and watching Good Morning America or The Today Show.
I walk out the door, the hot early morning sun coming down on me. I get my keys out of my pocket, for my green 1997 Pontiac Grand Prix GT, a two door. I bought this car last year straight from the Pontiac dealership, not too long after I sold the Camaro to some high school kid that just got his licence down the block for about 5k, which was pretty cheap since the car was in mint condition all these years. I only had about 120k miles on it, and that was about it. That Camaro was the only car I had all these years,even back when life was sweet and everyday was basically good. Pulling up in the driveway of my old house while "Radio Ga Ga" by Queen or "Every Breath You Take" by The Police was playing on my radio as I pulled in, my wife greeting me at the door with my daughter in her arms.
I insert my keys into the key slot and turn and open it, a dinging noise going off inside the car as I sit down and close the door and put my keys into the ignition and crank, the dinging coming to a stop. I pull out of the driveway and onto the neighborhood roads. It's a normal drive, the cold air of the AC hitting me square in the face, my office attire of a button down shirt and a tie and black work pants and penny loafers. I get out onto the opening of the neighborhood and onto the main road, I turn the radio on, tuning it to the local classic rock station, my usual station. Playing "Somebody to Love" by Jefferson Airplane.
As I make the commute to downtown Phoenix where my job is, I think about the friends I've had over the years. Brian, one of my childhood friends I've known through the years, left Prescott in 1985, moving to Montana for a job on his uncle's ranch, he died on that ranch in March of 1991, getting word that he was trampled by cows while trying to lead them to safety from a pack of wolves. It still hurts emotionally me to think about it.
I turn left onto the highway, trying to adjust with the speed of traffic, putting my foot down on the gas pedal a little bit more before letting off.
Joey, a friend I've had since my early twenties, I haven't talked to in about 5 years. Joey and Angela got married not too long before Brian left for Montana, they moved to Las Vegas. Turns out Paula was also apart of a mafia family that also came from the east coast and they ended up finding both of them in Vegas, so basically from what I know Joey ended up back in the life, hence why he stopped talking to me 5 years ago for good, saying it's for his and my own safety. I know this for fact because I heard his name mentioned on the local news when talking about the current day mafia.
"Oh well, at least I've got friends at work" I say out loud to myself in the car.
The rest of the ride to work is pretty quiet, the song "Joy To The World" by Three Dog Night is plays on the last 5 minutes as I get out of the traffic and head into the parking garage.
I park my car in my usual spot, on the second level parking spot, still underground. I shift to P and open the door and take the keys and get out, the time on the car clock 7:46. I usually clock in about 7:50, but I got here a little bit earlier than usual due to the fact I got out of bed as soon as the alarm went off.
I lock the doors to my car and make my way to the office doors, people seemingly in the lobby and chatter from fellow employees.
"WARREN!" my boss says, addressing me by last name as he walks across the parking. He's a fat short man in his early 60's who still drives a 60's Cadillac with steer horns. Everyone calls him Boss Hogg behind his back due to his resemblance to the character and the car he drives.
"Yes sir" I say, walking over to him, trying to sound as professional as possible.
"There's a transplant coming in today from one of our Midwestern Offices, St.Louis to be exact. She's going to the cubicle right beside yours, where Larry used to be until he moved away to one of our Philadelphia offices. I want to you to introduce yourself to her and show her around the complex a little, make her feel welcome" he says, smiling, I can smell his stale cigar breath mixed with probably a Egg McMuffin.
"Yeah, yeah I can do that" I say as I start to make my way towards the door again.
I walk in, check in with the receptionist before I get on the elevator and go to my cubicle, seemingly the way I left it, my half eaten donut from yesterday. Some papers here and there and my computer still showing the tab of minesweeper open. I start to get to work for about 45 minutes, until I feel a light tap on my shoulder.
I look back and I'm greeted with a pretty face, a woman with blue eyes and caramel colored long hair and tanned skin, as if she was of Greek or Italian descent. She seems to be at the most 30 years old, her skin smooth.
"Are you Ben Warren?" She says, her ruby red lips mesmerize me, her teeth seemingly white as snow, her voice sounding a little bit Midwestern but mostly just a general American accent. She gives me a small smile at the end of it
"That's me" I say, with a smile as I get up from my chair.
"Oh, okay" she says, as she moves out of my cubical and out into the rest of the work space.
I show her the break room first, the box of Dunkin' Donuts on the counter, seemingly almost empty.
"How often do you eat here?" she says, I can smell her cherry flavored perfume.
"Maybe every couple of months, I usually go and get some McDonald's or Subway for lunch, or sometimes pack my own lunch every now and then" I say, before moving onto the rest of the floor.
I show her where the fax and copy machine is and the little tricks here and there to get it work, since it's about 10 years old, I remember when they first brought it in brand new.
"So yeah, that's basically the floor you'll be working on" I say to her.
"Yeah, the offices in St.Louis seemed much more, up to date sort of speak" she says, with a smile as we walk back to our respective cubicles.
"I mean yeah, but the Boss said he's planning on making the computers more Y2K compliant this weekend" I say, smiling.
"Oh, that's a start I guess" She says, smiling as we part ways into each of our respective cubicles.
I work until about 12:30 and then I go on my lunch break, going to the nearby McDonald's and getting my usual two McDoubles and a large fry and a Medium coke. I sit in the break room and chat with my coworkers, Harry seemingly talking about his encounter with a y2k prepper at Costco, it seemed to be pretty funny. Harry's been working here for about 13 years, I remember when he first came to this office, seemingly fresh out of high school. I'm one of the few people in this office that's been here fifteen plus years later, besides the receptionist that's been here about 37 years, longer than anyone else.
After lunch I get back to work, sending emails and reading stuff and filling out forums and stuff like that, not the most exciting job in the world compared to fixing cars like I did in my late teens slash early twenties, but it does pay well, even more so now due to my seniority. I work until my shift ends, which is about 3:45pm.
"Hey, Ben" I hear a female voice say.
I look behind me as I stop in my tracks from going out the door, it's the woman from earlier.
I get a good look at her, she's dressed in a polka dot blouse with a white background and red dots, and beige dress shorts, she's kinda taller than me, which I haven't noticed before, and she's wearing low heel shoes, so I know for a fact she's just naturally taller than me.
"Hey, I don't think I caught your name" I say, as she walks towards me.
"It's Tiffany, also can you give me a ride, I just moved in Saturday and I don't have car yet, my Apartment's not too far from Wrigley Mansion, The Vicinity" She says smiling.
"Sure, alright, I know where that is" I say looking up at her, I'm 5'9, and she's about a head taller than me.
She follows me out of the floor and onto the elevator and down to the parking garage, we both quickly check out with the receptionist.
"Nice car" she says, as I take my keys out of my pocket and unlock and open the door for me and her.
"Thanks, I bought it last year new" I say as I get in and she opens the front passenger door.
As soon as she puts her seat belt on and closes the door I put my keys in the ignition and turn, shifting to R and backing out of my parking space.
I slowly drive to the garage opening, and as soon as I get out the radio comes on, playing "Reelin' In The Years" by Steely Dan.
"C'mon, this is old music, put it on something newer" she says.
"The last time I willfully listened to the pop station or top 100 or whatever you call it was 1985" I say.
"How old are you?" she says, generally curious.
"I'm 43, actually" and when I say this, she looks generally shocked.
"You seriously look good for your age, I thought we were the same age" she says.
"Yeah, I get that alot when people find out" I say, giving in to her complaint and turning the station, turning it to another pop station in the city.
"I love this song" she says, as I turn my blinkers on as I turn into a different lane and stop at a stop light.
"What's it called?" I say, hearing the chime at the end of the song.
"You Get What You Give by the New Radicals, it was pretty popular earlier this year though, too bad we caught it when it was just about to go off" she says.
The guy on the radio blabs about how hot the weather is today before announcing the name of the next song that's currently coming up, that's called "What's My Age Again" by some band called Blink-182.
"I have no idea who most of these bands are nowadays" I say, as I turn onto the highway to go to north Phoenix.
"What, you haven't heard of Sugar Ray, Green Day, Third Eye Blind, Matchbox Twenty?" She says, surprised.
"I've heard of Green Day since they were really huge a couple of years ago, never heard of the others though" I say.
"I'll give you this band that's playing on the radio since I've never heard of them until now either and I think they're pretty new, but c'mon" She says, with a playful laugh.
"I mean, I've heard about Nirvana and Guns N' Roses and The Smashing Pumpkins and R.E.M over the years, since I did have MTV until about 1997 and I'd watch that out of boredom sometimes" I said, as I change lanes and I notice the exit is coming up, I start to slow down.
"Are you married?" She asks.
"No, and I really rather not get into why I'm not, I'm divorced and we'll leave it at that. Not trying to be rude or anything, it's just that my life has gone down hill these last ten years. The only thing I have left is my looks" I say as I get onto the exit, slowing down.
"Oh alright then, it's fine" she says with a smile, I hear the song end and the radio talking some more about the weather and then announcing the next song, it's called "Steal My Sunshine" by a band called Len. I kinda like the beat behind this song
It's quiet between me and Tiffany, as I get onto the stop light, she makes a remark that she's single, seemingly broke up with her boyfriend about a month ago, saying he was a dick.
"Yeah, you're probably better off without him" I say, as the light turns green and I turn, I see her apartment in the distance.
"Probably, more like, totally" she says laughing, and I laugh along with her.
I park in front of her apartment complex.
"Hey, I wanna say thanks, and also could I carpool with you until Friday? I'll get a car when I get my first paycheck" she says smiling at me.
"Uh, yeah, mornings and evenings right?" I say.
"Nah, just evenings. I'll take a taxi in the mornings" She says, she leans in to kiss me on the cheek, and I admit, it kinda made me blush a bit.
Tiffany pulls out a tissue from her purse and kisses it and pulls out a pin also and writes on it, using my dashboard as a surface. She leaves it on the top of the dashboard and gets out the car, walking into the complex.
I drove home that evening, picking up some KFC on the way back, reminding me back when me and Paula went to the KISS concert twenty years ago this year. I wonder what Paula's doing now, from what I heard she's seemingly with another man in Seattle, my own children seemingly forgot about me. I kept it on that pop station, the song "My Own Worst Enemy" by a rock band called Lit reminding me of that one night in Mexico, the night everything went downhill fast.
"Maybe I can start all over again" I say to myself, looking at the tissue, studying Tiffany's phone number and her cursive handwriting reading "call me", the lines of her lips imprinted into the tissue.
"I'm not gonna fuck it up this time" I say to myself, repeating the line in my head that entire afternoon and well into the night.
Giantess World
Author's Chapter Notes:
I'll probably get around to the shrinking part in chapter four, I really wanna flesh out this story first instead of just diving in, since this story might be my last for awhile.
Chapter End Notes:
Happy 4th of July to my fellow American readers, if you're reading this on that day.