Plan C: Purpose

            Lizzie stood and watched the train pass.  But this time, she didn’t yell.  She had no desire to yell.  Instead, she simply watched the train with her arms crossed.  A slight movement to her right made her aware she had company.

            It was Matt.  Of course it was Matt.  How did he know she was at the tracks again?  He didn’t bother to speak since she would not have been able to hear him anyway.  She looked at him and raised her eyebrows.  He tilted his head toward the train.  True, last time he found her here they ended up yelling at the top of their lungs until their voices were hoarse.  That was the day she found out about her dad’s cancer.  It was only two days ago but it felt much longer than that.  She felt like a different person.  Despite the bombshell news she actually felt calmer.

            In response to his head gesture, she shook her head slowly and looked back at the train.  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment.  Then turned back toward Matt and nodded her head.  He nodded his head in agreement and started to walk toward his office with her following him. 

            They didn’t speak until they were in his office with the door closed.  He sat behind his desk and Lizzie sat in a chair in front of it.

            “No yelling at the train today?” he asked with a smile.

            “Didn’t need it today,” she didn’t really like the fact that this person knew about her little train secret. 

            He tapped his finger on his desk.  “How’s your dad?”

            She shrugged.  “About as good as could be expected.  He’s fine except he has this terminal illness so it’s kind of hard to answer that question right now.”

            He rubbed his eye with his finger.  “Yeah, sorry, dumb question.”

            “No,” she said.  “I appreciate you asking and being concerned.  I just haven’t found a good response to that yet.  And people are going to ask me so I need to find a good reply.”

            He nodded.  “How did your interview go yesterday?”

            “Ah, that,” she smiled.  “That was weird.  I think I just experienced some kind of Joey Maguire moment.”

            He squinted his eyes.  “Joey Maguire moment? What’s that?”

            “You know, like the movie.  Tom Cruise?”

            He nodded. “You mean Jerry Maguire?”

            “Yeah, but I’m not Jerry.  And I can’t call myself Lizzie McGuire, now can I?  That’s already taken.”

            He rested his forehead on his fingertips. “Okay, there is so much wrong with that…” he looked at her “…with all that you just said. The least of which is you just said two different last names.  Ma-guire and Mc-Guire.”  He annunciated the difference clearly.  “Then there is the fact that Jerry is the agent.  The a-gent,” he said slowly, “not you.  So, you don’t need to change any names.  At all.”

            She looked at him.  “You finished?”

            “Are you finished butchering America cinema?”

            She rolled her eyes.  “Anyway, I think I was in a Jerry Maguire scenario.”

            He noticed she didn’t admit that he was right but he knew they could get caught in a loop and he’d never hear the point of the story.  Using all the willpower he could muster, he swallowed and attempted to ignore her reference altogether.

            “What do you mean?” he asked carefully hoping she could move the story along without referring back to the movie.

            “My agent, Harold, left his agency and I think he was trying to get as many of us bubble artists to sign with him as he left.”

            “Bubble artists?” he asked.

            “Talent like me.  I was signed because of that movie, New York Knight.  But then my part was cut.  And then I was this close,” she held up her thumb and finger with a small gap, “to landing a commercial deal but that fell through. Instead of dumping me, the job opportunities shrunk.  I’m sure they were about to drop me. So, Harold came in to scoop us all up.  Sort of like a pity scoop. He can build up his clientele and figure out which ones are the diamonds in the rough and which ones are just plain rough.”

            Matt nodded. 

            “I called a couple of my friends from acting class and apparently, he did not leave the agency on good terms.  He called out his boss at some big party and caused a scene.  Somehow, he must have been on good enough terms with a former co-worker to get access to all our numbers.”

            “Wow,” Matt said.

            “I know!  This business is like that.”

            “No,” he replied. “Your reference to Jerry Maguire was actually spot on.  You just botched up everything else about it.”

            She smirked.  “I know what I’m talking about.”

            He nodded.  “So, how do you feel about what Jerry said?  Are you going back to New York then?”

            She thought she noticed a hint of disappointment in his question.  “No,” she said.  “I don’t think I will ever hear from agent Harold again.  Once he found out I wasn’t willing to go back to New York…”

            “You’re not going then?” he asked and realized he said it a little too quickly.

            “No,” she smiled.  “I can’t go.  Not with dad.  Not like this.  Not now.  I don’t know that I would even move back after.” She said slowly.

            He smiled.

            “I don’t know, it’s kind of weird, but sitting there listening to Harold make the same promises that I have heard so many times in the last ten years I had a sudden epiphany.”

            “An epiphany?” he asked.

            She stood up and walked to the window.  “Yeah, since I’ve been back I have felt like I was in this state of limbo.  I told you before, I didn’t want to waitress because I didn’t want to just be a waitress.  Not that there is anything wrong with that.  But, I just want something else.”

            “Right,” he noticed how the sun was streaming in through the window hitting her face and looked down.  “Before you were an actress who waitressed to make ends meet.  You didn’t want to just be a waitress.”

            “I didn’t want to just be an anything because I have considered myself an actress for so long.  That was who I was trying to be.  Without that, I didn’t know who I was.”

            “And now you do?” he asked slowly.

            She turned and looked at him.  “I am Chuck’s daughter.  And I am going to take care of him right now.”

            He nodded.  “Chuck’s not going to want you to put your life on hold for him.”

            She shook her head. “No, but it all became clear.  When I moved back I had lost my purpose.  I found it again.  There is a reason I am here.  A job to do.  So, what I do to make ends meet while I help dad out is not my life’s work.  It’s just how I’m going to make a living while I reconnect with my dad.  That is my life’s work at the moment.”

            He nodded.  “Sounds noble.”

            “No,” she said and walked back to the chair.  “It’s not.  I’m not that good of a human.  I am getting more out of this than dad will.”

            “I doubt that,” he said quietly. 

            “At any rate, I do not anticipate hearing back from Harold ever again and that’s okay.  I’ll get a job while I’m here and when the time comes,” her voice grew weak and she had to clear her throat, “when the time comes for me to move on, I will.  I will get a new plan and just keep moving forward.”

            They sat for a moment. “Well, I might have something to help you get started with your new plan,” he said.  “I have been wanting to hire someone to help me organize my files in the basement.

            “Your files in the basement?” she asked.

            “Follow me,” he said and led her out into the hallway and down the stairs.

            “This is really creepy,” she said after he opened the door to the basement.  He turned on an overhead light and they walked down the narrow stairs.

            “This is the ‘historic downtown,’ remember?” he asked.  “The buildings are older.”

            “And creepier,” she said again.  “You’re not actually some kind of weird murderer, are you?”

            “How do you want me to answer that?” he asked turning around.  “I mean, wouldn’t the answer be the same no matter what the truth is?”

            She pushed him slightly on the shoulder and smiled.  They continued until they got to the bottom.  One single lightbulb swung from an overhead light above.  The room was only big enough for the five file cabinets and a small table.  She ran her hand on the table and looked at it.  “A little dusty?” her hand was covered in dirt.

            “Yeah,” he said.  “I don’t come down here that often.”

            “Other than to murder unsuspecting women who like to yell at trains?” she asked.

            “Obviously,” he said. “Look, I inherited this law office.  There has been a lawyer here for the last 100 years.”

            Her eyebrows raised and then she looked at the file cabinets.  “Oh no, you’re serious?”

            “I really need someone to go through these files and clean them out.  Most can be thrown away, I’m sure.  Would you be interested in doing this?  I will pay you.”

            She looked around the small room.  “I don’t need your pity,” she said.

            “Pity?” he asked.  “I am expecting you to pity me and say you will do this job for me.”

            She thought about it.  She did need some kind of cash flow started as soon as possible.  And working for Matt seemed like a logical choice since he already knew about her dad and that whole situation.  Plus, there was the benefit of her not having to waitress again until this job was done. “Fine,” she said.  “I will take this job.”

            He nodded.  “Great!  Let’s go back upstairs and work out the logistics.”

            She looked around the room.  “I will get some kind of hazard pay, right?  Working in this dungeon.”

            He shook his head.  “Race you!” he sprinted up the stairs.

            “Hey, not funny, creeper!” she yelled and ran up after him.

Next: Chapter III

Plan C: Chapter I