Remo Went Rogue by Mike McCrary Page B

really just notes.”
    “They all say, Meet Sean.”
    “Rough draft,” says Remo, hiding the new napkin he’s working on. He looks down the table so she can’t see the tears forming in the corners of his eyes.
    “I don’t know you, but it seems to me if that’s the one thing you have on a bucket list, then maybe you should go meet this guy. Who’s Sean?”
    Two words have never hurt more. “My son.” This is the first time Remo has said this to anyone. Sure, a lot people knew, but Remo never discussed with anyone openly. Not with friends or co-workers or anybody. For some reason, at this moment in life Remo feels the need to share this with a complete stranger. All of this washes over Remo in an instant.
    His first instinct is that he’s losing it.
    Going soft in a moment of weakness.
    Then he realizes something, something so clear…something so clear that even this dumb-fuck with shit stuck in her face and retarded pictures drawn all over her body can see it.
    The waitress gives an understanding nod, decides to share. “My dad left us when I was a kid, but I got this P.I. guy I was dating, well not really dating, more like a fuck buddy situation… Anyway, he found my dad a year or so ago and I just haven't had the cojones to actually go see him . . .”
    As the waitress rambles on, her voice fades into the background noise. For the first time in days Remo’s thoughts become focused—for the first time in a few years, really.   The answer to at least part of his current dilemma has just become easily identifiable. Ideas fall in line behind his distant eyes.

    He tosses a few bucks on the table, quickly leaving the booth, the waitress still yammering on as he pushes out the door.            

19
     

    Remo arrives at a downtown office tower.  
    He plows through a floor filled with bustling cubicles in full swing, hunting for someone in particular. He looks like hell as he sticks his head in cubicle after cubicle with no success, rudely interrupting corporate drones from their tasks, coffee, and three-hour Internet breaks. A few get pissed, and a few more get really pissed. A dull murmur about the visitor buzzes around the floor.
    One employee asks, “Can I help you, buddy?” Remo ignores him. Heads pop up like prairie dogs to get a look at the nuisance of the floor.
    He checks the Men’s Room.
    Then the Women’s Room, where he’s met by a shriek and the inevitable, “Asshole!”
    Across the floor. Anna sips coffee as she returns to her desk.
    Anna is a naturally beautiful woman, with that rare light of happiness that seems to surround some people. It’s a light that she can, and does, share with. Some people have it. Not Remo, but some people. Not to say her life has been peaches and cream, not even close, but Anna is able to put things in perspective. Everybody has their baggage, their cross to bear and all that. But she’s able to look at the world with big picture mentality and understand her struggles are nothing in the grand scheme of things. Through the years she’s been able to gain a healthy view of life.   She thinks having a child has helped her put things in their proper place. Sean is really what fuels her light .  
    Unfortunately that light gets extinguished as she turns and notices Remo.
    Her eyes widen, then harden at the sight of Remo disrupting the work day. She gets a sinking feeling, one she hasn’t experienced in awhile. Anna never knew she had a bad side until she married Remo. He was a project, of course. Most women have one—at least one—they are convinced they can change, positive that the right woman can turn the guy around. They’re completely certain there is a good, good man in there and that other people just don’t see it like they do.   Sometimes these women are right.
    They never married Remo.
    As Anna’s eyes find Remo, her defense mechanism takes over. She drops down into her cubicle looking for cover, shrinking lower and lower as she hears the