Negative Positives

2: If only...

Damien

Monday, February 5th, 2024

I pace the empty meeting room, clenching and flexing my fingers repeatedly. I shake my arms out, trying to dispell this anxiety.

A million scenarios run through my head, flashes of memory from the parties and conversations I'd had with myself.

"This is a bad idea, Damien. Alcohol and weed together every weekend? C'mon Damien, don't be a moron. You need your job."

They were echoes of my mother's voice, my girlfriend's voice.

If only I had listened.

I thought I was being responsible, I always detoxed on Sundays. My ability to work safely wasn't impaired.

If only I'd said no to Marcus on Saturday night.

If only I'd stayed home for once.

If only I'd called in sick this morning.

If only I'd refused the test... but then I would have been hauled into the office anyway.

If only my boss wasn't a complete jerk.

Actually that wasn't fair. I couldn't blame Wayne. I knew damn well that the company had a zero tolerance for drugs. It was in my contract that periodic random drug testing was mandatory.

Why today? It probably wouldn't have shown up if it was Friday. The testing people probably knew that.

I rake my hands through my hair and sigh. Kelly is going to be so pissed.

If only I hadn't promised her that new car.

The door opens, making me jump and I quickly cover it with a stretch. I pulled out a chair and sit at the meeting table, studying Wayne's face as I try to keep the fear out of my own expression.

Wayne doesn't look happy.

Shit.

Another man, the guy from the drug testing company, sits beside Wayne, across from me. He has a friendly, professional look to him with his hair combed to the side and his well-pressed shirt tucked in.

"Mr. Tawhare," He greets me with a nod.

"Damien," Wayne begins. "Thank you for your cooperation with Mr. Reynolds. He has your preliminary results."

My stomach clenches. Here goes.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Tawhare..." Mr. Reynolds starts to say. My heart sinks, my shoulders drop, all the hope I'd been holding onto bleeding out of me. "... your urinary sample has shown a positive test for cannabis."

"Fuck." I mumble, angry with myself.

"You can opt for a blood test for more accurate results, but they are usually higher, not lower. Are you taking any prescription medication that contains cannabis, Mr. Tawhare?"

"No." I say with resignation.

"Have you used recreational cannabis recently?"

I stare at the table. I won't answer that. I know not to self incriminate. My lack of denial, however, is evidence enough for my boss.

Wayne clears his throat and leans back in his seat.

"Thank you Mr. Reynolds." Wayne says, his voice heavy with disappointment.

"I'll leave this paperwork with you, Mr Preston. If Mr. Tawhare wants to go ahead with further testing it will need to be done today."

"No point." I grunt. "It's done f****d already, bro."

Mr. Reynolds gives me a sympathetic head tilt.

"I'm sorry Mr. Tawhare." He says in a gentle tone.

"Not your fault, mate." I accede.

Mr. Reynolds stands and shakes hands with Wayne before leaving the room. The click of the closing door might as well be a gunshot in the heavy silence.

Wayne groans and leans over the table.

"Damn it boy, you're one of my best employees."

I remain silent, too angry with myself to speak.

"My hands are tied, Damien. Your contract is terminated effective immediately. I'll get Tash to type up a termination letter for you, but you need to leave the premises now."

"Thought as much." I just stare at the table while my smoldering future burst into flames.

"Sorry, son." Wayne sympathises.

"I'm sorry too." I run my fingers through my hair, leaning my elbows on the table. "If only I wasn't so f*****g stupid." I mumble. Wayne doesn't hear me. He's left the room already.