Clockwise

Clockwise

A short story by Peter Lamb

peter.blacklabs@gmail.com

#38: Close to Home

Write a story about someone who is working from home and constantly getting distracted by their pet.

1500 words

It went in circles. Endlessly. Clockwise. Jack hadn't appreciated this feature of Marvin's character until now. He had devoted much of his time to the office, and this eternal circumnavigation was an irritating practice of which he had been blissfully unaware.

Two hours to the deadline.

"I wish I were you," Jack said. "You see, Marvin, in my world, going in endless circles is not encouraged. What's that? Yes, I know you're incapable of greater adventure, but clockwise? Every time? What are you, Sputnik?"

The little orange fish insinuated into his peripheral vision once a minute and precious time had been squandered in the measuring of it. Time trials. Team Marvin.

The phone rang. "Hi, Jack. Any chance of getting it today? We need something by two."

"I'm on it. Just a few minor touch-ups."

"That's great. Only needed a heads up. Two is good."

He hung up. The fish stopped its solo voyage and glared at him.

"What?"

Marvin didn't answer.

"I know you want to say something because your mouth is opening and closing. Jenny used to do that. I'd ask her a question and nothing would come out, like she was permanently flabbergasted. Well, I did not buy the bowl, okay? She did. I am not the cause of your restricted travel plans, she is."

Gravel emerged from the uninformative mouth and Marvin continued on his way. Clockwise.

Jack returned to the giant monitor and his illustration of deep vein thrombosis.

"I guess you've never seen a medical journal, have you Marvin. Well, let me explain. They leave an enormous gap on the page and I fill it with a picture. Nobody will notice it, but you can be damn sure they will if it's just a blank box. I'm running out of time. Art isn't a race, Marvin, it doesn't work like that. Ticking clocks and art do not a happy marriage make. See what I'm saying?"

A minute passed, and Jack began the irresistible urge to count. One, two, three, Marvin! On his what, nine-hundredth trip past the treasure chest?

"Go... the other... way!"

The animated leftover from a lover now gone clockwised toward the ever-submerged deep-sea diver. Marvin the Metronome. Roll up, roll up, see the incredible living clock.

"Marv, I'm going to put this picture of Franklin Delano Roosevelt in front of you because, and don't take this the wrong way, but your relentless OCD is impinging upon my ability to create."

He placed the cardboard-backed likeness of America's 32nd president between himself and the clockwise fish, then slunk back to work. Deep veins, perforating veins, the peroneal, anterior tibial, a hint of blood clot, and then he wondered where Marvin was now. TV end or fireplace end? Just reached the treasure chest? Or was he already past the little guy with the bubbling head? FDR gave no clue.

"Marvin?"

No reply.

"Would it annoy you if I paced the room, always in the same direction? Are fish capable of distraction or are you doggedly focussed on the task at hand? Tell me. I want your opinion."

No reply.

He removed the photo and looked at Marvin the undisturbable. "You think you're clever, don't you? Hmm? Well, I'm making myself a sandwich. Try doing that with your anatomically inadequate pectoral fins. Wouldn't seem so smug then, would you. Up to the gills in mayonnaise, I imagine. Millions of years of evolution and you can't even cut cheese."

Jack disappeared and returned with a concoction the likes of which Marvin could never aspire to. Then he ate on the hoof, conscious of time ticking away while he circled the room. Clockwise.

"You possess no concept of deadlines, do you Marv. I would love to be you. Honestly, I would. Trouble is, if we swapped bodies, ten seconds later I'd have forgotten I'd done it. I'd be no happier."

On his fourth circuit, he stopped. "Marvin, are you more like me than I realized? Do you orbit your world because of deadlines to meet? Is it a merry-go-round of things to do and places to be?"

He took his empty plate back to the kitchen, then resumed the perambulation of his enforced workspace. "Did she leave both of us?"

Marvin might have shrugged, but non-verbal communication was another skill that evolution had overlooked.

"Did she view us the same way? Ever think about that? She got you the bowl, she decorated this flat. She dropped flakes onto your head, and she made me lasagne. Was I her pet?"

The ringtone of work impinged upon his revelations, and he promised, again, to finish by two.

"You know," he said, passing the TV end for the tenth time, "She would have liked seeing me cooped up at home. She would have counted my revolutions and enjoyed my struggle to get something done, but I was never here, was I. Always out. Always needed to be somewhere else. What do you think? Was I going in circles with no apparent goal?"

Marvin scooped up some floating flotsam, or was it jetsam, and spat it out. "Well, you come up with a theory! There's a reason she isn't here any more and I don't see you coming up with a satisfactory explanation."

Both species arrived at the fireplace end of their bowls.

"Shall we do something crazy, Marv?"

The fish gave an extra wriggle, like Jenny trying to get into last year's clothes.

"Yeah? Okay. I'll tell them I won't meet the deadline, and you, my little orange friend, will go round the bowl in the Other...Goddam...Direction! What do you say? Could be a life-changing move for both of us."

Clockwise continued to dominate Marvin's negotiating tactics and Jack took it as a challenge. "All right, you're on!"

He dialled.

"Hi, it's Jack. I'm sorry, things are crazy here. Not going to get this done by two."

Marvin stopped swimming.

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

Marvin turned sideways.

"Maybe by tomorrow first thing?"

Marvin began floating to the surface.

"You're what?"

Marvin bobbed.

"Yes, I promised, but--"

Marvin rolled onto his back.

"--Hang on, would you? There's a medical emergency."

He dashed to the bowl where the fish resembled a prawn cracker.

"What? He's my... I think he's dead. Marvin! What? Yes, okay, tomorrow. That's great, thank you. I'll get it done."

Jack hung up. "Marv, please! Swim. Swim, damn you! Clockwise is good. I don't care."

The fish rolled, then bubbled down to a high five with the deep-sea diver. The open-and-close mouth thing could have been an expletive as the fish resumed its clockwise tour of the world according to Marvin.

Jack picked up the phone and wrote a text.

"Hi Jenny. What do you do when you make a deal with a fish and it doesn't hold up its end of the bargain?"

He waited a while. It had been a month since he'd texted her. When it came back, he didn't want to read it. Marvin stopped swimming.

"Jack. What to do? You find another fish. Don't text me again."

Marvin returned to his circumnavigation of the bowl and Jack walked clockwise around the room, staring at the text message.

"Find another fish? That can't be right, can it? Marv? What's she on about? No, I did nothing wrong. No, it's her. She stored up my mistakes to endure lengthy periods of good behaviour. She has a long and spiteful memory."

Jack sat down with work. In his periphery came one, two, three, Marvin!

He swung back to the bowl. "I saved your life, you realize that?"

Nothing came back.

"I saved your insignificant orange life and I don't even like you! Still not talking to me? Well, what can I say. It wasn't my fault she left. Perhaps I did something wrong, but honestly, I don't remember what it was."

Jack turned off his monitor and joined Marvin in the exploration of forgotten events.

"I don't enjoy working here," he said. "It all reminds me of her. You have a treasure chest and so do I. Every minute I bump into it. I'm the perpetual, submerged, bubble-head guy. You know what, Marv? You were a prize. Is that why you look so smug? A prize for best date ever. I threw balls, and she won you. You, Marv. The gift that keeps on swimming. I see you and I see her. Was it Jenny who caused this round and round in the same direction? She did it to me. I can't work here. Once a minute it's hey! Jack! You made her laugh and won me for being brilliant. Now she's gone! Yay! Let's look at the treasure chest and poke the drowning man."

The fish, at the TV end, turned for the ten thousandth time.

"Oh give it up, will you? Let me work, for heaven's sake. It's all I have. And no, Marvin, I don't know what I did wrong. I don't remember."

Jack toured the room, clockwise, trying to recall the nature of his indiscretion. Nothing came to mind. Nothing at all. All he had were bubbles of work, and the open close lid of a sunken treasure chest.