By Brian Christopher Giddens
Annika watches the nuns pass by, in rows of twos. Like schoolchildren on a field trip, or tourists being led by a guide holding a bright umbrella, so they do not get lost. Or do nuns ever get lost, she wondered?
She smiled at the thought of nuns on vacation. Do they ever do that? Do they wear a lighter habit and get issued sunglasses? Do they look forward to their two weeks a year? Or do they find themselves at a loss, not knowing what to do without their regular routine? Like Annika, when she was forced to use up her time.
Every year, Eddie, her boss at the warehouse, told her, “Annika, we don’t carry over vacation. You need to take your time.”
“I don’t mind losing it, Eddie,” Annika replied. “Just let me work. I got evenings and weekends to relax, ok?”
But Eddie didn’t buy it. So, she would stay home from work and clean her house. Though being the only one in her small rambler, it didn’t need a lot of cleaning. She’d spruce up her postage stamp yard, maybe go to Costco and roam the wide aisles, try some samples. But she missed her job, sorting packages, making sure they got where they needed to go. There was no end to the work, no stopping the boxes moving down the line.
Then one day Eddie called her in. Said she was nearing retirement age, that they noticed she was having trouble keeping up. “Who’s they, Eddie?” Annika asked. She had been working at the warehouse for twenty-five years, ever since her husband Bill died, and Eddie had been her boss for the last ten.
“Annika. You know we got to meet the metrics. We track everything you do.”
Annika felt her face burn. If she did anything right, it was her work. Sure, in the last year she sometimes couldn’t keep up. She would stand at her place in line, like always, but the packages seemed to tumble toward her at a faster pace. A couple of times, the guys had to stop the line to allow her to catch up. But only a few times, she thought. She wondered if they had increased the speed of the line, expecting her to work faster, just to get rid of her. “Eddie, c’mon on, you know this is all I got.”
Eddie looked away, his simple face scrunched in a scowl. He was a nice guy. Loved the cheerleading side of being a middle manager but hated the times he had to be tough. “There’s nothing I can do, ok? You’ve earned your retirement—take it and enjoy it.”
Annika’s thoughts rushed through her head. She tried to calm the panic rising from her chest. “Maybe I can transfer to another job…or go part time? I mean, you’re always needing more people.” She stared at Eddie, like a dog waits for her human to share his sandwich, pleading with her eyes.
Eddie stood up from his beat-up metal desk and placed his hands down onto the top, leaning forward towards Annika. He towered over her as she sat across from him. Eddie saw the tears welling up in her eyes and had to look away, wanting her to leave. “It’s retirement or we start disciplinary action. And you’d be a fool to risk that, Annika,” he said, in his stern manager voice, the one he uses with his kids when he pretends to be the boss at home. “Now go back to the line and tell me tomorrow what your plan is.”
As if she had a choice, she thought. She complied, like she always had, like she did with Bill throughout her marriage, until he died of liver failure at an early age, leaving her a widow with no means of support.
And now she spends her afternoons outside the church, on a park bench, watching the world go by. Not just the nuns, but the kids rushing for the playground. The parents with their ear buds talking to empty space. The dogs straining at their leashes, eager to smell the scents of the other dogs who preceded them. She watches them, tracks them, as if they were all packages on her line, passing her by.
good imagery
Thanks Patricia!
Really excellent flow — an excellent, heartbreaking read.
Thank you Rose!
Poignant and heartfelt
Enjoyed this immensely. A fluid read. A great depiction of how the “twilight years” do not always unfold as expected. Makes one wonder, whatever happened to the ” Golden Years, ” supposedly waiting for us all?
The ending paragraph was great, tracking and watching the world bypass her, just as she did with the packages.
Thank you Linda!
Yes, for some of us, like dear sweet Annika, leisure is not the basis of culture; it is a hardship to be endured. Very well written, Brian.
Thank you Leon!
Lovely bittersweet story. I’d love to see a part 2 where Annika maybe finds something meaningful to fill her days. Does she volunteer at this church she sits in front of? Does she maybe volunteer at a thrift store where she sorts and organizes shelves?
Thank you Lois!
A lovely, well-written story of loneliness and advancing age. I felt for Annika.
Great story!
Great story Brian! Poignant tale, read while on our patio watching the world go by, two by two, on their daily beach walks, Annika by our side, finally enjoying a brief vacation 😉
Annika’s reluctance to take vacation time made me think of the old root and meanings of “vacate” as connected to displacement, to loss of the sense of belonging. Most of us have happier associations with vacations or retirement but only if we have other connections in our lives to sustain our days.
Deeply touching story, like Lois I wish Annika could find volunteer work that would give her some satisfaction and connection with others. Eddie is also a sympathetic character.
Brian — I loved the structure of this story — starting with the nuns and Annika watching them go by and ending with the very moving statement that they were “passing her by.” How often in life do we cling to the way it was? Letting go is the hard work of aging. Even without “doing” in another way, I would hope that there is a place of comfort Annika can go in her mind rather than this deep place of loneliness. Great story about the way our society casts out those who do not meet the “metrics.” And living here in Amazon-land, the poignancy of this story is even brighter for me.
ANNIKA ON THE LINE, tells the story of wondering what
a sub-group who never tell anyone outside their group
what is behind the mask they wear
Well written. Depressing and hopeless and powerful. Thank you.
Very moving story. Just lovely. Sad how Annika is treated after giving so much to her job.