Chapter Text
The betrayal began on March the 16th. The weather was lousy, howling wind and sharp snowflakes abound. These days Ludwig found himself thinner than ever, but not to the point of concern. The side effect of accidental fitness was minimal cold resistance. It took a less than charming sweater vest to finally feel comfortable in his secluded office.
Once upon a time, the corporate accountant was on the top floor of the regional BMW building. He was among the stars of number crunchers, tackling expenses for all of the Kitchener and Waterloo region. He was proud to be part of a German company, true to his heritage.
Ludwig was now 65, a relic on the second floor in accounts managing. He was the oldest person here by a very long range. He was the only one in the building that knew what VHS tapes were. Once spry and eager to work, he was now considered traditionalist and rigid.
Was it grey thinning hair that turned the world against him? Ludwig couldn’t help that. His arthritis was a product of time, beginning to hurt more these days. Perhaps it was the army of family photos that pissed off his superiors?
His oldest son Claude had twin sons, turning seven this year. They were rowdy soccer fans that warmed Ludwig’s heart. Ivan, fostered by the family for years, had adopted a small pack of children with his life partner Alfred. Ivan and all four of his children visited constantly. His daughter Leanne was scattered in the chaos, with one baby. There were sparing photos of Laurence, Ludwig’s youngest son. The two rarely saw eye to eye on anything, but Laurence’s husband was kind enough to stay in touch and send fresh pictures. Ludwig was arrogantly proud of only two things in his life. His babies, and his accounting history’s accuracy.
Lastly, there was an army of dog pictures. Every dog he ever owned was honored and remembered. Since the German fully believed in pack mentality, he always adopted three or more in groups. This resulted in seventeen dogs on the wall of his office. No one was taking down his goddamn pictures.
Two hours into another day of filing and form entries, a younger co-worker approached. “Ben.” Ludwig grunted in greeting, typing away.
“Did you hear about the party?”
“No.” Some people would call Ludwig salty, or a poor sport. He hated big parties and always had. Of course he had heard of the upcoming retirement party. There were only three people it could be for, and Ludwig was hoping to dear god it wasn’t him.
“You are going, right?” The other male prompted, as forgettable as his pasty white face.
Ludwig leaned back in his chair and feigned niceties. In his age, he was finding himself tired of the diplomacy game. He played it to save face, essential skills in the corporate structure. Wearing a wane smile, he spoke warmly. “Oh I wouldn’t miss it for the world. It’s not everyday someone retires.”
The party loomed closer, only four days later. With no dogs left at home for company, Ludwig had no excuses to avoid social gatherings. He had taken up scrap-booking to commemorate his many fallen canine friends. He finished all the kid’s pictures, half the grand kids, and started a tome just for his dogs.
It was hours before the party now, time falling away on him. Ludwig was cleaned up in a nice black suit, scrapbooking to distract himself down stairs. Old music played on the aging mp3 speaker, warbling sounds of happy memories. They were classic hits forty years ago when Ludwig first met his wife. Their marriage had been short lived and ended brutally. In all honesty, it turned Ludwig off from dating for the rest of his life. The music of that era was still pleasant though.
Humming along, his photo arranging serenity was broken by a timer. He had set one on his phone, forgetful sometimes. It was time to march back into social hell. He had a sick feeling the party was for him.
With Laurence reluctantly assisting, Ludwig had anticipated great changes. His will was updated. His pension applications were ready to be filed. The problem was the German-Canadian himself. Ludwig wasn’t ready to retire. He was a star pupil in school, graduating earlier than most. He had worked at the same company for thirty years. He no longer knew life beyond his children’s homes or a desk.
Holidays? Hobbies? Time off? How in god’s name could anyone ever fill entire days with this nonsense? Where was the purpose and drive to do better? Taking an arthritis pill, Ludwig forced himself to leave his massive home. It used to have three adopted kids and a brother in it, but now it was a museum to time.
Ludwig arrived at the rented bar with apprehension. He was a little late, perhaps on purpose. With one last inhale of cold winter air, he walked in the establishment. It was just as horrendous as he imagined. Excessive drinking, noise, and chatter flooded the building. Ludwig could barely find a spot to sit, hiding away in a shady corner. Through the sea of ties and powersuits, a vision of doom appeared.
Hanging above the band stage was a massive black and gold banner that read “Thanks For Everything! Happy Retirement!” Ludwig’s picture was hung on either side, somewhat crookedly. This was real. This was the end of everything he took routine and comfort in.
The shock of it numbed him to the celebratory people around him. Food tasted like ash, Drink like sour water. There was nothing to soothe him in this calamity, yet he had to pretend he was happy. Ludwig tried, he really did. He cracked a few trademark dad jokes. He pretended to drink beer. He nibbled on overly salty party snacks.
Finally, the boss came over. Mr. Zimmermann was ruthless efficiency and diligence, true German virtues. Years ago, Ludwig had been this powerful figure’s right hand. There was no place Mr. Zimmermann went that Ludwig didn’t follow. Now they passed each other in the halls maybe twice a week. How the mighty had fallen so quickly.
“Mr. Beilschmidt. You did attend.” The other greeted, to the point as always.
“Yes, Sir.” Ludwig all but saluted him in respect.
“This is from the company. We are truly thankful for your thirty years of service.” A gold watch was placed in Ludwig’s hands. A watch? That was all they did after he gave up half his life? Ludwig flipped it over, expecting engraving or something underneath. It was a plain gold watch in a case, like the seven others he had seen handed out before.
The company didn’t care about him at all.
Seeing through Ludwig’s mask like glass, Mr. Zimmermann was quick to comment. “Have fun, this party is for you.” The stern younger man advised sharply.
Ludwig nodded, soon melting into bar shadows. He left the party early, a frozen crust of neutrality over… something. He was not in touch with his feelings very often. For the longest time, he laid the gold watch out on the kitchen. It was an insult, and he could barely stand to look at it. Living alone in a five bedroom house, there was plenty to do.
Five days of work remained. Ludwig finally took the watch out of packaging.
Four days of work remained. He finally tried the gaudy timepiece on. It was entirely not his style.
Three days were left before oblivion. The German now hated the watch, glaring at it where it lay. He had thrown it at the wall in a fit of anger. There was now a taunting crack in the display.
Two days left of work, and Ludwig’s denial was starting to break. He blamed all these awful feelings on Mr. Zimmermann, the watch, and any celebrity on TV. This was all someone’s fault, and this made the grey haired man feel slightly better.
At the end of the last day, He carried all his pictures to the car. There was little to no fanfare, not that he wanted any. His office was cleared of all personal effects, all impending work finished. The heavy truth sank in as he drove, but it would be days before he grasped it.
Driven to work on anything, Ludwig filled his old work schedule times with new activities. He couldn’t stop waiting up at 5:30 on the dot. He habitually dressed in a suit every morning, only to take it off and hang it up. He kept packing the same lunch he had eaten for thirty years, only to disassemble it and return the food to the fridge.
Morning walks, scrap-booking, cleaning the house, making small domestic repairs. Anything and everything was considered to kill the crushing boredom. He babysat piles of grandchildren in the evenings.
The truth would not stop haunting him for two weeks. It finally delivered it’s last blow, after early morning coffee. Ludwig was dressed with nowhere to go. It was just the empty house, him, and that stupid watch.
He tried to sell it, but it was worthless with a crack in the glass. The watch was a metaphor of Ludwig himself. Once a precious commodity, it was now obsolete and useless. Ugly feelings came to the surface again. Anger, self pity, Hate, frustration. They all bubbled under his stony exterior dangerously.
With shaky arthritic fingers, a hammer was retrieved from the closet. Ludwig needed to say certain things, ire words burning in his head for months.
“Fuck you Zimmermann! You abandoned me for a younger protege!” The hammer struck the stupid watch.
“Shut up Ben! No one cares about your poker games!”
“How dare you abandon me to this nothingness!”
“I am an asset to BMW!”
Again and again, the bottled up grandfather screamed hatred fueled complaints, beating the watch to a gold mangled mess. Exhausted from the toxic expulsions, he rested in his favourite living room chair. The hammer was set down, a last terrible emotion manifesting.
Crushing loneliness, years of it held back by family, dogs, and work. The sad gaping pit called his love life swallowed him whole. Ludwig finally cried for the first time in years, drowning in the most smothering loneliness he had ever known.