This morning I have two post-its on my monitor. One is from Jesse, William’s secretary, re the preschool accounts and the other is from Brad, my cubicle-mate, saying that Antonia called. This notice takes up most of the little square but at the bottom it also says Blanche called. Blanche is my wife, so really I called but it’s just my way of keeping up the illusion.
When Brad arrives he greets me with a big smile. He is a small man, like myself, and blends in similarly; I guess that’s why we were partnered up when Loomis & Loomis moved to its new offices. He never does much to get noticed but I can sense in him a longing to be recognised and reveled as an important man. I mystify my co-workers and as the closest to me, he is the ‘go-to guy’ for any updates on my status as they tend to avoid me. He sees this as some sort of upgrade to his social standing and I know he is grateful for it.
‘Morning, Tony?’ Brad mostly states questions when he talks. It frustrates most people but I quite like it, and usually ignore it but sometimes I like to play along.
‘Certainly is, Brad. Busy day today eh?’ I do my best at a manly pal-around.
‘Finishing the preschool accounts today? Definitely, I haven’t seen our old Loomis and Loomis this flustered since old Hadley was leaving the team?”
* * * * * * *
On Saturday my brother comes to visit. He picks me up at the door to my building and we head out for the day. He’s the only person with the know-how to assemble things I could find who was willing to accompany me to shop for the baby’s room. My brother, Victor, has broad shoulders and almost no neck and despite my shape being almost the opposite (weedy and long-necked) I have never envied his stature. Being my size made it easier to slip into the background, until this belly appeared anyway.
Sitting in his car I wind down the window and let the fresh air breathe over me. He says something to me but I look out the window and am distracted by a man in the car we are passing. As we overtake him I catch a glimpse of a figure hunching toward the steering wheel and probably he has just sneezed but it looks as if he is crying. A sudden dark feeling envelops my body. I feel awful inside. It’s hard to believe that a stranger who probably isn’t even crying but looks as if he is can do this to me. Deep down I fret a little, what will happen when I see my child cry? How will I cope?
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
