Polarity | 3: Quarrel

Max took the stairs down to the first floor and stepped outside. It was cold, as he expected, but something told him that it was only going to get colder this month. He stifled a laugh as he realized it was almost April. So much for spring, he thought.
           The walk to the convenience store nearby was uneventful. Max spent most of it lost in his own thoughts. He passed a few strangers, all of which caused him to tense up. Since he lived in a poor area, he didn’t trust anybody on the streets. He couldn’t help but worry that one day, someone would stab him without warning as he was walking somewhere. It was a silly fear, but not one that he could suppress. Thus, whenever he passed anyone, he would puff out his chest in a poor attempt to seem intimidating. He doubted that it worked; he was too short and slender. Usually, he walked slouched somewhat, looking down at the ground in front of his feet.
           He pulled open the door to the convenience store when he got there and stepped inside. A few feet in front of him, behind the counter, stood a café brown-skinned old man. Upon the sight of the visitor"a regular, no less"he opened his lips wide in a pleased smile. Doing so revealed how many of his teeth were missing.
           This was Franco Diefenbach. While he ran the nearby convenience store, he also happened to live in the apartment right under Max’s. The Aussie was on good terms with the old man"while he seemed a bit creepy, it was a friendly sort of creepy that he could relate to. But at the same time, though he didn’t want to admit it, he had a feeling that he was, in general, better than the guy. He hated the narcissistic part of himself that harbored such thoughts, but it was a part that helped him survive. As long as he was “better” than everybody else, then he could pretend he was a little bit less lonesome.
           “Max,” Mr. Diefenbach greeted through his grin, “it is good to see you!”
           “G'day,” Max forced himself to say back. He knew that his face suggested frustration at the old man’s social nicety, though this wasn’t the case in his head.
           “I have not seen you in a while!” the old man said. Or at least that’s what Max thought he said. It was sometimes hard to understand Mr. Diefenbach’s words, what with the lack of teeth and all. Plus, English wasn’t the man’s first language. He gave him credit for trying, though.
           The only valid response to come into Max’s head was “You too.” He didn’t say it, though, because he wasn’t sure whether it would come across as an odd thing to say. Then again, he was talking to a man who hardly knew English, so did it matter? Either way, he only hummed in response.
           From the aisles of the small, modest shop, Max picked up his usual purchases: four boxes of macaroni and cheese, a loaf of bread, a tub of butter, a two-liter of pop, and a bag of potato chips"sour cream and onion flavor this time. When he placed his purchases on the counter, Mr. Diefenbach smiled again.
           “For you,” he announced, “I give discount!” Then, he pointed at the potato chips. “Chips, free!”
           To Max, it was a pleasant surprise. Being a regular had its fair share of small perks, it seemed. “Oh. Thanks.”
           Mr. Diefenbach proceeded to ring up the rest of Max’s purchases. He told the young man his total. “You pay with debit?” he then inquired, knowing Max’s routine to a T.
           “Yep,” Max answered. Pulling his wallet back out of his pocket was more difficult than he’d anticipated, though. Flustered, he laughed. “Hold on for a second. I’ve got it.”
           “Stuck, is it?” Mr. Diefenbach chuckled. “No hurry.” To fill the dead air, he asked, “You still dating girlfriend? Her name was . . .”
           Realizing he was talking about Stacey, Max said, “Oh, no. We broke up back in December.”
           “Oh. So sorry.”
           “No worries.” Finally, Max got his wallet free from the confines of his pocket. From a fold inside of it he pulled out his debit card. He stuck it into the card reader chip-first and entered his pin.
           “Still friends?”
           Max looked up at the silver-haired man. “Hmm?”
           “You and her.”
           The introvert looked back down at the screen, selecting his checking account. “Yeah,” he answered in a mumble, “you could say that.” At that moment, his phone started to ring in his other pocket.
           Seems Stacey bought more minutes . . .
           “Speak of the devil and she shall appear,” Max joked. Mr. Diefenbach didn’t seem to understand, but he didn’t say anything. Quickly, he bagged his customer’s purchases. Max took this time to pocket his wallet and pull out his phone. Indeed, it was Stacey calling him. Since it would spare him the awkwardness of Mr. Diefenbach’s typical “come again” spiel, he sighed and answered.
           “I told you, I don’t like being on the phone while I’m outside,” he complained the instant he knew she could hear him.
           “Well, excuse me for not being psychic,” Stacey quipped back. “I long since gave up trying to figure out any pattern for when you go outside.”
           Mr. Diefenbach handed Max the bag of bought goods, which he took in his right hand. He waved at the old man, who returned the gesture with his typical toothless grin. Then he turned around and left the convenience store.
           “Listen,” Stacey began, “did you actually read my texts this time, or did you open and close them like you usually do?”
           “You actually figured out what I do?” Max asked her as he glanced his peripherals to soothe his nerves. “How long did that take you?”
           “Hardy har har. I’m worried about you, all right? I mean, I thought you were better than those entitled ‘I don’t need a job’ pricks.” A low grumble: “You sure complain about them a lot.”
           “I’m not entitled to anything,” Max bit back. “But I do have a job.”
           “Sitting around your computer all day’s hardly a job, Max.”
           “Are we really going to keep on with this stupid argument? What about this can’t you get through your thick goddamned skull, Stace?” Max did his best to keep his voice low enough to not attract any unwanted attention to himself.
           “What I can’t ‘get through my thick goddamned skull’ is how you don’t want a job. It must get boring in your apartment, right?”
           “Look, you aren’t my mother. Hell, you’re not even my girlfriend anymore. So don’t lecture me on how to live my life.”
           “God forbid I see you as a little brother.”
           Max rolled his eyes so hard, he felt they may eject themselves from his skull. “Oh, pull your head in. Stop making excuses for yourself, Stace. You don’t see me like a brother, you’re just”"wanting to call her a “controlling b***h”, but also not wanting to deal with the repercussions, Max truncated it. “"controlling.”
           Stacey huffed in frustration. “Would you at least listen to me this once? Hear the job offer out like a rational human being?”
           “No,” Max responded brusquely. “Even if it is good, I’ll continue to be furious out of sheer spite.”
           “You wouldn’t be the Max I know if you didn’t.” Despite everything, Stacey did know quite a bit about his nature"both the good and bad of it. “I’m going to start now, okay?”
           Max said nothing. In his mind he replied with enthusiasm, “Okay,” before immediately hanging up on her. In reality, though, while he’d admit he was a prick, he wasn’t that much of a prick. Even so, he enjoyed the thought until Stacey’s voice assaulted his ears once more. She was like some sort of harpy from Hell. He wondered how, sometimes, he almost managed to tolerate her . . . and vice versa.
           “It’s for a theater nearby,” Stacey explained of the job offer.
           “Do I need to take a bus to get to it?” questioned Max, for the sake of being difficult.
           “Probably? Unless you’re keen on walking for forty minutes. If that’s such a big problem, though, I’ll drive you myself.” Unlike Max, Stacey had a car; in fact, she lived in her own house, part of a duplex on the other side of the city.
           “What’s the job for?”
           “They need someone new to make posters and playbills for their productions.”
           Max puzzled over this for a moment. “I need to leave my apartment for this why?”
           “I never said you did. If you’d actually read my texts, we could’ve avoided that whole argument. I’m giving in to your stupid preference, okay? This time, anyway.”
           Now Max felt a little stupid. Yet, while this offer was something he’d actually consider, he found himself hesitating. There were so many other artists out there. He would have a lot of competition if he did offer his services"competition that was better than him.
           “I don’t know,” he balked. “I’d have to think about it.”
           “You never cease to amuse me, Max,” Stacey told him. “People already pay for your art, but you stay so humble.”
           “What do you mean?”
           “I know you’re concerned about them thinking your art is s**t or something.”
           Rather than admit to this, Max responded, “I don’t know what you mean.” By now, he’d reached his apartment complex. He pulled open the door and rushed to the staircase, eager to reach the safety of his apartment.
           “I sent a link to their website in my texts. Will you think about it?” Stacey asked him as he exited the stairwell on his floor.
           “No promises,” Max answered, holding his phone with his shoulder as he reached into his coat pocket for his keys. “But maybe. What’s the pay rate?”
           “You don’t care about the pay rate.”
           She was right: he didn’t. “Is there a pay rate?”
           Stacey laughed at the question like he was stupid, but still didn’t answer. “Look, babe, I’ve gotta go run an errand.”
           “Don’t call me babe.”
           An awkward pause. “Did I call you that? Whoops. Force of habit, I guess.”
           “You were saying something about letting me go?” Max closed and locked the door behind himself, then set the bag down onto the kitchen island.
           “Well,” teased his ex, “I could take my phone with me.”
           “I’m hanging up now.”
           “All right, bye. Don’t kill yourself.”
           “Again,” Max took his turn to poke fun, “no promises.” The call then over, he took a deep breath.
           Stacey’s taken a lot out of me with only that. I’m so worn out now. How does Cameron do it?
           After setting his phone down, he unpacked the bag and put everything away, except for the pop, which he poured himself a cup of. He chugged it and filled it up again before finally putting the bottle in the fridge. Then he set the cup down beside his phone. When he removed his coat, he threw it back down onto the couch. His phone went into his sweater pocket.
           The cup of pop went with him into his bedroom, where he set it down beside his laptop. He slipped off his shoes and returned them to their place beside the bedroom door. When he went to sit down, he hesitated. Luckily, though he hadn’t noticed it, he’d remembered the half-empty bag of salt and vinegar chips he’d set down on the seat. He picked them up, sat down"ate a few chips for the hell of it. Only then did he open his browser"Google Chrome"to finally check the e-mail from Cameron.
           Besides the attached PDF file, titled simply “ch1.pdf”, the e-mail contained only, “Enjoy! - CF”. Max downloaded the manuscript without further hesitation. Before he opened it, though, he took out his phone and sent Cameron another text.
           “About to read it,” he informed him. “Anything I should know beforehand?”
           Quick as ever, Cameron replied, “I don’t want to spoil anything.” This statement, like his previous, concluded with a smiley face.
           Max sighed again. For some reason, he had a bad feeling about the file.
           What if it’s a virus or something?
           Pfft. A virus, in a PDF file?
           You never know . . . It’s possible.
           Don’t be daft. Why would he go to so much trouble? It looks normal enough, anyway.
           So he chose ignore his intuition. Albeit with some reluctance, he decided to open it"to read the first chapter of Cameron’s novel. He clicked on the file in the download bar and waited for the program to load. Then, he started reading.