Migraine

Lightning flashed outside Glen’s window, beaming through the blinds and into his eyelids. The crashing of thunder sent rumblings through his skull. 

The pattering of rain droplets on his window beat upon his eardrums like a marching band. Glen lay in bed, throbbing from head to toe. 

It had been many many years since he’d had a migraine. Ever since a particular rainy day in high school when he had one tremendously bad case, he had been completely migraine free. Glen couldn’t remember that day, aside from waking up to the sounds of rain, flashes of lightning, his parents fighting downstairs, and a hideous throbbing in his forehead. But, he could never forget how the day had ended—with him receiving a two week suspension for allegedly trying to set the school on fire. 

Glen attended years of therapy after the incident, which proved to be a pointless endeavour. Glen never truly had anything wrong with him, it seemed. What he had undergone that day was simply a mental lapse, and that could happen to anyone—at least that’s what the therapist concluded, after several months of probing. 

“The boy is perfectly normal.”

Said Dr Quartz behind his thick grey moustache. 

“The incident in question here is actually indicative of that fact. Even the most normal people suffer lapses from time to time…”

He went on.

 “Could’ve been stress, could’ve been a chemical imbalance. Could’ve just been something he ate or even the weather. At any rate, I wouldn’t worry about any underlying conditions. These things do happen.”

He said with an air of certainty.

Just make sure he gets proper sleep, eats well, and maybe try to get him to exercise a little— the boy seems like he could use a little physical exertion”

Dr Quartz was affirmative. His grey moustache and his dignified demeanour were convincing. Glen’s parents nodded, while Glen’s mother sighed with relief.  The school principal, sitting close by Dr Quartz in the conference room nodded along— especially to the last point.  Glen was the quintessential cerebral type, all brains and no brawn—his frail frame could use work. 

But as the years went on, Glen never undertook much physical exercise, besides brief interludes of skiing during the winter and recreational rowing during the summer months. His prowess demonstrated itself not physically,  but mentally, through his aptitude for math which earned him a scholarship to a good school, and later helped him land a good job in finance. 

And over the course of all those years, Glen never displayed any unusual symptoms. Without fail, he was in church on Sundays, he called his grandmother Wednesday evenings at 6:30 for them to watch their favourite gameshow together (until her passing away at 91 years of age) , and he always baked his famous cheesecake for their summerly family reunion barbecues. 

Despite the many successive years healthy and without incident, Glen opened his eyes that stormy, black Monday morning with a shooting pain coursing from his head to his toes. With tremendous effort, he turned his head to look at the digital alarm clock on his nightstand. It was just before 5 AM, which meant he still had another two hours before his alarm would go off. But, no matter how he tried, Glen couldn’t keep his eyes shut; the pain was too intense. 

And so he lay there, staring at the ceiling, allowing the pain to fester and well up inside him. He took the time laying there with the blanket over his eyes, to debate getting up and making coffee, or taking an aspirin or three, or leaving a message at the office to say he wouldn’t be going in. But, Glen did none of those things.  Instead, he lay there with increasing pain until his alarm finally got went off. 

By the time Glen had showered and dressed in his tie and forced a banana down into his nauseous belly, the riveting pain had not subsided in the slightest— it had grown even worse .  Glen gritted his teeth as he stabbed the key into the ignition of his beat up Taurus and pulled out into the damp black street that frigid November morning. 

He couldn’t force his routinely forced customary smile to Alice, the voluptuous receptionist as he entered the entrance lobby of his office building. Alice immediately noticed the change in Glens demeanour. It showed in his eyes. It showed  across his face— from his tense brow to his clenched jaw—  and even in his jerky movements and his brisk stride—not as cautious and gentle as usual. 

“Everything alright, Glen?”

Glen paused for a moment. He felt like he was choking on his tongue, trying to hold back his words which inevitably, poured out from his mouth against his own volition. 

“No, Alice.”

He said

The response was so unusual, so out of Glen’s character, that Alice froze, unable to speak. 

“Not alright at all.”

Glen continued. 

His body twitched involuntarily. It was as though he were spasmodic; his body acted like a conductor for the impulses flowing through his brain. A slight grin spread across his lips

“My head is aching. It’s Monday, again. I’m about to spend a whole week trapped here like a fucking rat. A whole week of my life, wasting away behind a desk crunching numbers, while I dream of being some place else”

He was still smiling, and without his usual tact, he was eyeing Alice’s curvy figure up and down.

 He regretted his words as he spoke them, but he was unable to stop himself. 

But, something in Glens honesty made him intriguing to Alice in a way he never had been before. 

She was surprised by her own curious response towards Glen’s sudden erratic change in behaviour. 

“Where would you be, if not here?”

She asked, returning his smirking grin.

“Well for starters...”

Said Glen smiling wider, beginning to revel in the boldness he had suddenly acquired 

“I’d be having dinner with you Thursday night.” 

Alice, still stupefied by the whole scenario found herself nodding. 

“Umm, are you serious, Glen?”

She said snapping to reality. 

“Very, very serious.”

Said Glen, for once in his entire life, sounding self assured and assertive. 

“But Glen, you know I’m married. You know Jerry? You guys went to…”

“But Alice,”

Glen interrupted.  

“I don’t care that you’re married.”

Glen smiled at his own forwardness. Inside, he was blushing and quivering with nervousness, like a child afraid of being caught stealing, but it didn’t show. 

“It’s quite a tempting offer...”

Said Alice, in spite of herself. 

Glen wore a poker face while he kept his eyes fixed on hers

A part of Alice was ecstatic to have the break in her monotonous work life routine. At that moment, Glen’s transformation was a beacon of hope, not only for his own life , but for perhaps hers as well. 

She felt herself succumbing to his directness. Something about a man being so bold in his desire ignited a long dead fire in Alice’s belly.

“Why don’t we wait and see?”

Said Alice, raising an eyebrow. 

“Thursday after work, my place. I expect you’ll come in wearing something nice that morning, or just bring something sexy you can change into.” 

Said Glen stepping towards his office. 

“Oh” he said stopping and meeting Alice’s gaze. 

 “You should definitely keep wearing your hair like that, by the way. Much better.” 

Alice blushed for a few minutes after Glen had already disappeared behind his office door, and in the privacy of his office, started hyperventilating. He was consumed by the pain of his migraine and the shock he felt by his own behaviour

The change in himself was frightening to him. The sudden inability to control his speech, and his behaviour was too overwhelming to comprehend. But, as confused and afraid as he felt then, he was equally, if not more afraid of reverting back to his normal, bland self. Glen was suddenly grateful for the abysmal pain he was suffering from his migraine. He felt enlivened by the prospect of finally living according to his wants, without fear or apology. 

Around eleven, There was a knock at his door. 

He knew it would be Wurmer. 

“Come in”

Glen muttered. 

“Glen. How are ya?”

Wurmer’s voice was flat and monotone.

Glen felt himself shaking, terrified by the knowing that he had no choice in what he was about to do.

“Listen, Wurmer. I know you’re here for the report. I’ll tell you right now, I have it. But, don’t think about asking me to get these reports for you on Mondays, anymore. My time is precious, and I intend to treat it as such. No more weekends.”

Wurmer stood in confusion, sizing Glen up as though he could be another man wearing Glen’s clothes, hair and face. 

“Is that so?”

He said dryly. 

Glen swallowed what felt like a peach pit in his throat, trying to restrain himself. Beads of sweat crawled down his back.

“It is… And another thing, I want a raise.”

“You do?”

Wurmer said with a testing look.

“This isn’t jeopardy. Cut the shit. I’m not your subservient little errand boy. You and I both know what I provide. I’ll be outta here in a flash, Ernie. You know the score. What’s it gonna be?”

Wurmer stood stiff for a moment, looking at Glen’s composed countenance, before his own face quivered slightly and he felt himself giving into Glen. 

“I can talk to my higher ups, I suppose.”

“Higher ups? Who are you kidding? Come off it , Ernie.”

Glen had never called him anything except Mr Wurmer, before. 

“Come on, Glen” said Wurmer with a pleading tone. 

“At least let me run it by them before we put the ink down.”

Glen sat at his desk and breathed a heavy sigh. 

“The report is there for you”

He said pointing to a stack of paper on his desk. 

“You’ve got till the end of the day to let me know your decision” 

“We can’t lose you, Glen.”

Said Wurmer, unable to hide the worry written on his face. 

“I know that.”

Said Glen.

As the day rolled on, and Glen noticed many flirtatious looks from Alice. He stuck up conversation with some of the other guys in the office and got an invite to a round of golf  the coming weekend.  On his way out for the day, he stopped by Wurmer’s office. The pay raise was more than Glen had initially asked. 

“How about we celebrate?” 

asked Wurmer. 

“You like cigars? I’ll bring you to my Cigar bar. Best in the city.”

“Thanks but not today, Ernie. Rain-check.” 

Said Glen, ready to explode from the pain of the still ever present migraine.

“Next week.”  

Said Wurmer. 

The relentless pounding in Glen’s head was excruciating. He was relieved to finally make it home. As soon as he got inside he turned on his computer and for the first time in as long he could remember he searched for online porn to masterbate. Afterwards, he ordered a pizza, ate the entire thing, and then two bowls of ice cream. 

The physical agony he faced wasn’t as bad as the mental anguish. Without the usual ability to repress himself, Glen was exposed to his deep disturbances. Inside, he resented himself for all the wasted years of concealing his true self. He hated himself, he hated the world and he hated everyone in it. 

Locked away in a cabinet, Glen found an old, never opened bottle of whiskey he had received as a Christmas present. His inner defences thwarted, Glen drank more than he had in the culmination of his entire life. Between each sip he felt his disgust and his self loathing and his vehemence for the world rising and bubbling like venom inside his veins. The uncontrollable impulses he’d experienced that day began to grow more intense, and more appalling. 

“I’d like to set my apartment on fire.”

Glen said to himself, his breath full of whiskey.

“I’d like to set the office on fire.”

“I’d like to fuck Alice on that desk while that husband of hers is tied up and watching and the entire fucking building is burning to the ground. 

“I’d like to see them all obliterated. Every last one of them.”

Quickly, Glen knew what he had to do. 

He made haste towards his medicine chest and cupped his hand full of sleeping medication and aspirin and some other pain killers he’d saved from a knee surgery he’d had years before. 

Glen slung the pills into his mouth and swigged down the rest of the bottle of whiskey. 

Finally, Glen had taken responsibility for his life.