Tuesday the 11 th , 9:20 a.m.

Brian knocked on his boss's door, and waited for Steve to wave him in. Taking a seat in one of the plush leather chairs around the miniature conference table, Brian grinned at his employer. Steve returned the gesture with a tight-lipped smile and sat across from the account specialist.

"Brian," he said, "Do you know why I called you in here today?"

The account specialist blinked at his boss. Normally when he came in Steve shut the door and relaxed a little, taking an opportunity to chat with his high school friend. The air of formality threw him off more than the question did.

Brian shrugged. "Not really." he said, his mind racing to come up with a work related topic that would warrant Steve's attention. "Is it about the new delinquent file process? I know I overstepped my bounds going straight to the tech guys on that, but Trudy had given me the go-ahead verbally. Just waiting on a signature."

Steve gave a slight shake of his head. "Its not that." Steve straightened his tie and refastened his cuff links, a nervous habit Brian recognized. Finally Steve met his eyes "Brian, some of your coworkers have reported you for sexual harassment. An outside tribune will be here tomorrow to investigate."

6:17 p.m.

Brian went to the grocery store after work. The day had weighed down on him, so he bought a couple of TV dinners instead of the pork chops his wife had sent him for. It was just the two of them tonight, and he was sure she'd understand he wasn't up for cooking.

Scooping up the plastic bag, Brian headed towards the parking lot. When he got to his lime green VW bug, his pride and joy, he dropped his keys. The entire passenger side of the car was scratched and dinged. The paint was coming off in places, and the side mirror sat at an unnatural angle from the body, holding on by red and black wires.

Looking around the parking lot, Brian didn't see anyone around. There were a few shoppers just leaving the store, but the parking lot was mostly empty. There was no sign of the person or vehicle that had caused the damage.

Wednesday the 12 th , 5:45 p.m.

The interviews with the tribune had not gone well. Brian had left the " informal interview" with the feeling they had already made their mind up about him before he had been called into the room. It did not sit well with them when he had to leave early to pick his car up from the dealer. Actually, he left work at his normal time, but he could tell the three member tribunal considered this an attempt to thwart their investigation, as they were in the middle of a series of questions regarding the conversations he'd had with any and all of his coworkers the past six months.

Brian got off the route 64 bus and began the two-mile hike to the Volkswagen dealership. The 70 dropped him off closer to the dealer, but he had missed it due to the meeting dragging on. He had managed to make it three quarters of the way there, and was trying to determine if he should jog the remaining distance to make it before they closed when two of the hobos who inhabited the streets stood and blocked his path.

He tried to step out of their way, and ended up being backed into an alley. One of the bums asked for some money to buy another bottle. His breath was sour with alcohol, and he waved an empty bottle around for emphasis. Brian refused, and tried to push his way back out to the street when the other bum punched him in the stomach. As Brian was bent over double, he saw a switchblade open in front of his eyes. "I think you will help us," his mugger said, and relieved him of his wallet. The drunk bum proved to be not so impaired as he slammed his elbow into Brian's back, and followed up by kicking his knee. Brian sat alone in the alley for several minutes before limping out to try to find a phone.

Thursday the 13 th , 3:15 p.m.

Brian decided to go home after his doctor's appointment. He didn't think he could stand another round of questions from the tribune. They may complain about it, but it would only be worse for him if he tired to answer the questions while under the affects of the painkillers the doctor had given him.

When he arrived home there was a U-haul in the driveway. Unsure of what to make of it, he approached the front door with caution. As he was about to open it his son, Jeremiah, came crashing out. He looked up at his father, his eyes getting wide. "Oh", was all he managed to say.

"So you're back from your school trip?" Brian asked. Jeremiah nodded. "Do you know what the truck is doing in the driveway?"

When Jeremiah suddenly became interested in his shoes, Brain knew it wasn't a good sign. In the 14 years of his son's life, he'd never been able to lie. It was something Brian and Elizabeth had prided themselves on in the rearing of their only child. As a result, however, whenever there was something Jeremiah didn't want to tell the truth about, he clammed up completely.

Knowing he wouldn't get any answers, Brian moved to step around his son and into the house. He was surprised when Jeremiah held up a hand to stop him. "You shouldn't try to talk to her," he said. "Not yet."

With that Jeremiah stepped away, and climbed into the passenger side of the U-haul. The doorway conversation must have caught Elizabeth's attention, because when Brian went into the house, he couldn't find her. He was in the bedroom calling to her when he heard the back door slam. He rushed to the front door in time to see the U-haul pulling away. Baffled, he went back into the house. On the dining room table was an envelope addressed to him in his wife's beautiful script. The papers inside were a letter asking for a divorce, and stating she would rather not fight for custody of Jeremiah, but would do whatever she had to keep her son.

Friday the 14 th , 4:45 p.m.

Brian was eating what would probably be the last leftovers of his wife's cooking. If not forever, then at least until he could get things resolved with her. As he finished, there was a knock on the door. When he opened it he was face to face with the repo agent from his bank. It was then that he learned his wife had racked up so much debt, and that was part of the reason for her quick retreat. He'd find out later that she had gone into debt in order to get money for her boyfriend.   Right now, though, he signed away the rights to all the furnishing Elizabeth had left behind, except for a small cot, a remnant from his college days when Brian enjoyed camping.  

As the repo men took the last of items of value, the agent pulled Brian aside to the kitchen. There he discussed with Brian how much the items they'd taken were worth, and how much debt remained. Brian signed the papers that turned the house back over to the bank to cover what it could of the remainder of the debt.

Saturday the 15 th , 9:36 a.m.

Brian was unable to sleep. Steve had been good enough to find him a place to stay for the night. Marion was a friend of Steve's from college. When Steve had introduced them he didn't say much more about her. He also didn't stay for dinner, or even to seen how Brian was coping with the events of the past days. Certainly Brian could understand that while he was under investigation by the tribune, Steve couldn't take him in himself, and anything more than professional courtesy might focus the attention of the tribune on him, as supervisor, for perhaps covering up Brian's transgressions.

Brian kept playing the conversation over in his head, trying to figure out when Steve had become so heartless. His high school self would have never let Brian suffer alone. There was a sound at the door, and Brian opened his eyes. Marion was there, standing over him. She was wearing a robe with a feathery collar and cuffs.

"Are you awake, sleepyhead?" she asked.

"I guess," Brian replied.

Marion sat down on the edge of the bed. "Steve mentioned you were having a rough time. Care to talk about it?"

"Not really," Brian said, closing his eyes.   "I'd rather just sleep until everything goes away." He didn't want to speak to anyone, and wouldn't until he was able to sort everything out. He listened for the door as indication Marion let herself out, but instead heard her sigh.

"Poor Brian. Perhaps I can help you forget your woes?" she said, and laid a hand on his chest.

Brian opened his eyes. Marion was looking down at him with lust in her eyes. "No offense, Marion, but I think the last thing I need right now is more woman troubles."

Marion pouted, but did not remove her hand. "I understand you don't want to get involved." She said, then leaned close to him with a mischievous smile. "But it won't be a problem. I'm not, technically, a woman, after all. So no woman troubles."

Brian quickly scrambled back in the bed, mind reeling. Marion scooted closer, and was trying to kiss him when Brian pushed her away from himself. Marion stumbled back, but caught herself on the dresser. She pushed her hair from her face, and smiled again. There was nothing friendly about the smile. "I guess you don't want to play right now. I can respect that." She said, backing towards the door. "I'll be back in two hours, though, and you should remember, no one refuses me once I have made up my mind." The door closed, and Brian could hear the door being locked from the outside.

Friday the 14 th , 11:20 a.m.

Marion had come back early, and Brian had been prepared. He'd not been able to get out. The door had been secured too well, besides Marion was still in the house. The bedroom had a small window, but bugler bars prevented him from making an escape that way. For the first 20 minutes he had sat in frustration of his situation, then he had come up with a plan.

Now he stood over the prone form of Marion who had come to the room in only a towel, apparently horny from a hot shower. Brian dropped the closet rod he had used as an improvised bow staff, and watched the blood seeping into the cream colored carpet from a wound on Marion's head. Brian stood there dazed for a moment. He hadn't hit Marion hard, but his attack had been a surprise. Marion had stepped back from the blows Brian was landing, and Brian swept the bottom of the rod at Marion's feet, causing him, and Brian could definitely tell it was a him now, to fall against the dresser.

Marion groaned from where he lay on the floor. The sound stirred Brian to action, and he called an ambulance.

Saturday the 15 th , 9:04 p.m.

Elizabeth had been found and called, and now she stood outside Brian's prison cell. She sobbed and refused to talk to him at all. After a few minutes she called for the guard to take her back to the lobby. As she left Brian could hear her muttering, "My husband is a deviant. I can't believe he sleeps with men. It good I got Jeremiah out when I did..."

Brian lay back on the cold prison bed. Tears rolled silently from his eyes. If Elizabeth believed that of him, the battle was already lost. She was the last person he could turn to. Steve had already abandoned him, and even his pastor would not come and see Brian to assuage his fears.

Crying more freely, Brian couldn't help but wonder what he had done to deserve everything that had happened to him. It had truly been a week from hell.

***

Monday the 10 th , 8:15 am

Brian had been on his way to work from parking his car when he reached the cross walk at 34th and Main. On the corner sat a woman bundled up in blankets of many colors. Brian had been so absorbed in reading the Wall Street Journal that he had not noticed her. He had tripped, and spilled his coffee on the woman. She had jumped at the warm beverage hitting her.

Brian had immediately apologized to the woman, and did his best to make sure she was okay. He did not see the cat that had jumped from her lap when she had been startled, nor did he see it dart into traffic and get hit by a car. Even if he had seen this, he had no way of knowing the cat was the woman's only family.

Self assured he had apologized to the woman for spilling his drink on her, having even taken the time to mop most if it up, sloppily, Brian had also failed to notice the curse the old gypsy had placed on him.