Somewhere Over The Rainbow

trillingstar requested (with absolutely no prompting from me) a day in the life of Tim McManus, preferably after his firing.

I took "firing" to mean the Season Four incident.

The specifics-
Approximately 2600 words. Rated R for language.

It's all about Tim.



"My lover stands on golden sands and watches the-“

Oh fuck.

The Bobby Darin imitation stopped dead as McManus remembered.

He was fired.

He turned off the taps in the shower and ran a hand over his face.

He’d escaped the thing with Claire and Wangler, may he rest in piece, and had pissed off the Governor numerous times and survived. But now, he was forced to spend his time at home. Alone. And for what?

For singing.

His voice wasn’t that terrible.

Okay, well, maybe, in retrospect, “Camptown Races” wasn’t the most appropriate song for a funeral.

But the guy loved the ponies, damn it. So it wasn’t entirely inappropriate for the circumstances, either.

And definitely nothing that warranted firing.

Tim took a deep breath, stepped out of the shower and toweled off.

It was a setback; that was all.

Tim glanced at the razor, plugged in and ready. Oh fuck it. No need for any of that today. He walked back into his bedroom, pulled on a pair of sweatpants and headed into the kitchen.

A fresh pot of coffee sat in the coffee-maker. Just what I need. Tim glanced around, found a bottle of bourbon lying on the floor. Even better.

Leo couldn’t stay pissed at him for long.

Tim poured a half cup of coffee. This is better than the office stuff anyway. Mineo always makes it taste like sludge. And now, to top it off with a little – oh that’s nice.

Tim glanced at the clock. Six-fifteen now. They’ll be calling for count soon. Why do I care about that? I’m never there for count.

Were we supposed to have a staff meeting today? No, that was Tuesday. That’s right. I think I had something on my calendar though. Whoever takes my place isn’t going to-

Whoever takes my place. Shit, someone’s going to have to run Em City until I get back. Sean’s the obvious choice. He’d be my choice. There wouldn’t be anybody else I’d trust with my unit.

Of course, he doesn’t have the seniority that some of the others have.

Dear God, Leo wouldn’t put Howell in charge just to spite me, would he? That would be a disaster. There’d be a riot in no time.

Serve ‘em right for firing me..

Tim poured himself another bourbon and coffee.

I wonder how long it’s going to take for word to get around. Leo was pretty good about letting me slip out, but the grapevine at Oz is pretty awful.

He glanced at the answering machine. The message light flashed rapidly. Tim pressed “play”.

“Tim, it’s Gloria. I just heard.”

Wonderful. Does this mean we’re still on for lunch? He moved onto the next message.

“Tim, it’s Sister Pete. I’m concerned about you. Call me.”

Forget about me, Sister. I’ll be fine. Worry about the inmates.

“Hey buddy, Claire’s telling everyone that Leo fired you. I told her to shut her pie-hole.”

Way to go, Sean.

“HAHAHAHAHA!”

Howell. Jesus, what a bitch.

The next message was silence followed by a dial tone.

Apparently, the news had reached England. Nice.

Diane and her stupid trip and her stupid letter got me into this mess in the first place. Least she could do is say “I’m sorry”. Maybe I’m better off without her.

I wonder what they’re charging for a trip to England nowadays.

Don’t be silly, Tim. You can’t afford a trip. You’re-

Unemployed. I’m going to have to fill out forms for benefits and stand in line with welfare mothers every-

There probably are some attractive welfare mothers out there. Welfare doesn’t necessarily mean unattractive. Just poor. And that shit never mattered anyway. If it did I wouldn’t work at Oz, I’d be an investment banker.

Maybe it’s time to think about a career change.

I could work in the welfare system. Yeah, completely overhaul it. Maybe create some programs that would help people get out of the system more quickly. I’m sure they’d be more willing to implement things than Leo and Governor Fuckhead ever were.

He checked the clock again. Six-thirty. The days didn’t usually drag like this.

He clicked on the television. Local news. It was something that always played in the background when he drank his coffee and got ready for work. He wasn’t prepared for the banality of it when there was nothing to distract him.

“It’s time for our Showcase Showdown” blared the voice from the television. Tim slowly opened his eyes. He had a crick in his neck from his position on the sofa. Actually, everything ached, especially his head.

Ten forty-five.

He moved slowly, head pounding the entire time. There was no way he was going to make lunch with Gloria at this rate. He felt like he needed another shower.

Where are my shoes?

He reached for the phone, dialed the number he knew by heart. “Oswald,” said the operator.

“Doctor Nathan, please.”

“McManus, is that you? Lopresti said they fired your sorry ass, but you’ve got more lives than a damn cat in this joint, so I figured he was full of crap,” stated the operator.

“Collins, could you just connect me to the infirmary?”

“Jeez, somebody got up on the wrong side of bed. Here ya go.”

The phone rang once and then Gloria picked up. “This is Doctor Nathan.”

“Gloria, thank God.”

“Tim. How are you?”

“Oh fine. Enjoying the carefree life. How am I? Jesus, Gloria, how the fuck do you think I am?”

“I’m sorry about everything.”

“How’s Keller?”

“What?”

“Chris Keller. He was shot. I figured you’d know how he was.”

“He’s recovering nicely.”

“That’s good. That’s good. Make sure somebody gets word to Beecher. He’s probably driving my replacement bananas by now. By the way, who’s running EmCity?”

“I don’t know. I’ve barely had time to breathe, let alone check on the rest of the world. I don’t think I’ll be able to make our lunch date.”

“This is how it starts, doesn’t it? I’m out and dates start getting cancelled. We’ll promise to get together, but never will. You have a nice life, Gloria.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Tim. I’m not going to apologize for being busy. I’d have to cancel if you still were here. We’ll do this another time, I promise.”

“Sure. Hey, Gloria, before you hang up, can you transfer me over to 9237?”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I guess it will depend on who answers, won’t it?’

“Take care of yourself.”

“Bye.”

The phone rang three times before being picked up. “Em City.” Tim could tell by the noise that Murphy had answered the phone at the guard station in the quad.

“You had my phones forwarded?”

“Seemed easier. What’d you do? Sleep in?”

“Sean, they fired me.”

“Yeah, I know. Had to give the announcement about it this morning. I just expected your phone call sooner.”

“How’d the boys take it?”

“They were all broken up.”

“Really?” Tim brightened at the thought.

“What do you think? I promised them that nothing would change.”

“That’s good. That’s good. You talk to Leo?”

“For a few minutes.”

“Were you able to convince him to see reason?”

“His mind’s pretty made up, my friend.”

“But he hasn’t started interviewing yet, has he?”

“Nah. It takes time.”

“Just give me enough time to convince him that I’m ready to come back.”

“I’ll do what I can. Wanna have a beer after work?”

“I’m not working, Sean!”

“Take it easy, buddy. It’s going to work out. I’ll be at your place at seven.”

“Don’t bother.” Tim slammed down the phone.

Tim paced the living room floor, getting more worked up by the minute. Sean should have cleared things with Leo or at least stormed out of Oz as soon as he heard the news. None of this “I’ll be your buddy when it’s convenient” crap. Sean was supposed to stick by him.

Tim grabbed the phone again and dialed.

“Oswald.”

“Collins. Get me through to Em City.”

“No can do, McManus. Warden gave strict orders.”

“Fuck!” Tim slammed the phone down then yanked the cord out of the wall for good measure.

He stomped to the front door, opened it, grabbed the newspaper that was miraculously still outside, and slammed the door. It felt good to slam things.

Tim flounced down on the couch and began going through the newspaper. He thumbed through the sports page, noticing that the Knicks lost the previous evening. He tossed that aside and grabbed the features section, turning pages until he reached his horoscope. “Things will get easier once you have a solid plan.” Thanks for the news flash. He scanned the front section and the local news.

Nothing. Not even a blurb on his firing.

He picked up the Classified section, then immediately put it down. What were the chances of finding an ad along the lines of “Idealistic Manager Sought for State-of-the Art Prison Unit”? He looked anyway, just to make sure the firing wasn’t premeditated. Just as he expected, there was nothing that appealed to him.

All the better. I’ve got all this free time on my hands and I ought to enjoy it for a little while.

Tim glanced around his apartment. His eyes fell on the clock. One-fifteen. Jesus. Was a day always this long?

I could clean, I suppose. For what? I don’t think Sean’s coming over now. And even if he is, he’s seen my place in much worse shape. I could do a load of laundry.

No. No. Laundry day is Saturday. If I change my routine at all, they’ve won. Best stick to the usual stuff. Or at least the usual stuff for my days off.

Hmm.

The last time I was here on a weekday.

Hmm.

No. I went in that day. After I got out of the hospital, maybe. Yeah, that’s right. Diane…

I hate her.

No, I don’t.

He sighed. Fuck. I really don’t.

Jesus Christ, I’m bored.

He picked up the remote. Seventy channels. There’s got to be something on.

Click. Soap opera.

Click. Oprah.

Click. Boxing. I wonder how Cyril O’Reily is doing.

Click. “While visiting London, check out…”

Fuck London. I need a drink.

Tim got up and walked over to the refrigerator. It was pretty bare inside, but there was a six-pack of beer and a slice of leftover pizza that hadn’t gone bad. He wandered back to the couch, lunch in hand.

London’s got to go.

Click. “…here on the set of ‘Law & Order: SVU.’

Weird. That guy looks like... Weird. Guess everybody has a doppelganger. I hope Gloria wasn’t lying to me. Should I call her again?

He glanced at the disconnected phone.

Nah. Too much work.

Click. Miss Sally’s Schoolyard. Nice rack.

Click. Elect Governor Fuckhead. Does he ever get sick of hearing himself talk? Okay, one more look.

Click. Damn, they’ve got the puppets out. This show is moronic. We really should have some better educational choices for the inmates.

Click. “Let’s play ‘Up Your Ante’.” See this. This is good. I could totally win at this game. Maybe I could go on game shows for a living.

Click. Oh. Queen. I love this song. “Beelzebub’s da-da-da-da-da-da-da for me, for me. For MEEEEEEE!” Tim sang along with the characters in the film.

Huh, that guy looks kinda familiar. I’m seeing things. Maybe I need another nap.

Click. “Jer-ry! Jer-ry!” Thank God we don’t watch this in Oz.

Click. “I want to be in America.” I’m really not up for Sondheim. One more.

Click. Oh, basketball! Last night’s game. Knicks lost. Forget it.

Tim clicked off the television. Almost two o’clock. There’s got to be something I can do.

He spied the computer in the corner of the room. Haven’t used that in a while. I’m always using the one at…

The computer took a moment to wheeze to life before the monitor flashed on. The picture of him and Ellie, taken during their honeymoon, was the background. Tim shook his head, then looked at the picture again.

I always told Ellie that I’d write my memoirs. Maybe this is a good day to start.

He opened the word processing program. Okay, I need a title. Something catchy like “Tim McManus – My Life Among Cons.”

Nah, that’s no good. Cons is so negative. That’s definitely not the type of thinking that I want to promote.

How about “One Good Man Versus The System”?

It’s true. Definitely. But a little bit boring. Nobody wants to read about virtue.

Oh! Oh! I’ve got it.

Tim typed four words into the computer and hit “Save”.

That’s a very good start. I wonder if that game that Ellie got me still works.

Five hours later, there was a banging from the front door. Tim looked up from his game. What the fuck?

He hustled to the door and opened it. Sean came in, bearing several cartons of Chinese food. “Your phone is out,” he accused.

“I’m writing my memoirs. Didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Sure, Tim.”

“I’ll show you.”

Sean pulled up a chair next to the computer. “Looks like you’ve gotten far,” he chuckled, noting the game.

Tim reached for the mouse, clicked a few times. “Sorry. Got to do that or else Adebisi will kill Rebadow.”

“What?”

“Just the game.”

“Seek help, my friend. And soon.”

“How was my job?”

“So. Your memoirs. Got a title yet?”

“Yeah.” Tim opened up the word processing window.

“’The Audacity of Hope?’ I don’t get it.”

“Well, it’s about…”

“You. No, that I get. I just think that nobody’d ever buy anything with that title.”

“It’ll be a best seller one day, you’ll see.”

“Sure, Tim.”

“Thanks for bringing over the Chinese food.”

“I figured you were down to your last cup of soup.”

“You’re not wrong. Did Leo…?”

“He didn’t say anything. But I think if you maintain radio silence for a week or two, you might have a shot.”

“A week or two.”

“Take some time. Enjoy life. Work on your memoirs.”

“I’ll have to think of a new title.”

“Maybe if you wrote something, a title’ll come to you.”

“And I’ll need a good opening line. Something like ‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.’”

“I think that one’s been taken.”

“Something like it.”

“Right. Egg roll?”

“Yeah.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. “Thanks for having Gloria call with the update on Keller. Beecher was driving me bananas.”

“I thought as much.”

“What’s your fortune cookie say?”

“Today is the first day of the rest of your life.”

“There’s your opening line.”

“It’s kind of cliché, don’t you think?”

“It’s a classic. Gets people thinking about how you might have got that way.”

“And then I tell them.”

“Exactly.”

Tim thought about it. Today really was the first day of the rest of his life. He hoped like hell he got this next part right.