Big Deal

by Soraya May

  For some reason, weights never seem as heavy when you’re in a good mood. I’m well aware this makes no logical sense, but they really don’t. Even things which are too heavy for you don’t seem quite so onerous.

  I stand up, return the bar to the rack, and look around the gym again. Since I woke up this morning, all of a sudden, things seem just a bit brighter.

  Ronnie left my house early this morning, just enough time to get home and change before work. It was hard to let her go, but as I watched her, long limbs pulling on underwear and slipping her dress over her head, I thought I’m going to see her again in just a few hours, and smiled.

  “You’re at the gym this morning, right?” She turned to look at me, zipping herself up.

  “Yeah, I’ll be in about ten. You going to be okay?” I stood behind her and embraced her, turning her head to mine. “Hey. I hope you’re okay with this.”

  She turned to face me. “Tom Macaulay. I am very okay with this, in every possible way. Now. You should get to the gym, and I should get to work.” She stood on tiptoe, and kissed me on the forehead, smiling. “See? Nearly as tall as you.” Then she kissed me on the lips, fresh and easy and passionate. “See you soon.”

  Damn, this is really going to complicate things at work if anyone finds out. But I don’t care.

  She’s part of the team on her own merits and everybody knows that. Watching her over the past few weeks, she’s grown to impress everyone, not just with her knowledge, but her energy, her fire to understand things. When she says that what we’re doing affects other people, she’s right. Ronnie could end up running the damn place someday, if that’s what she wanted. Right now, though, I just want her all to myself, whatever the risk.

  Shaking my head, I walk to the end of the mats and work through stretching. Billy’s there again, huffing and puffing on the bike, and at my wave he straightens up and lets the bike spin to a stop.

  “Hey man, don’t let me interrupt your cycling. I know how much you enjoy it.”

  He grimaces. “No, no, man, interrupt me. I beg you, interrupt me as much as you can. How goes it? You look cheerful this morning.”

  “What, I’m usually Mister Grim?”

  “Hah. Not at all. Just that you seem inexplicably happy. Remember man, I sit next to you twelve hours a day, most days, except when I can get away to be with my family. I have a pretty good handle on your motivations.”

  “Like I’ve said, Billy, I’m not a complicated guy.”

  He looks at me shrewdly. “It’s not a girl, is it?” I pause, and he cackles with laughter.

  “Goddamn! It’s about time you did something apart from work. Tell me you took a girl back to the Cave of Nerd, and she didn’t flee in terror.”

  “Billy, shut the hell up. First, I ought to fire your ass. Second, how I choose to decorate my apartment is my own Goddamned business. Third, it’s not nerd any more. It’s pop culture, or something like that.”

  “Whatever you say, boss. At least it worked. Care to tell me who the lucky lady is?” He looks at me in a manner for which the word ‘leer’ was invented.

  I frown. “No, William J. Flynn, I do not. Not right now, anyway. Back to your bike.”

  “Oh, you will, boss. Eventually I’ll know everything.” He tosses me a salute, and returns to his bike. “It’ll make a great story, one day.”

  Story. Did I have something I needed to do about a story?

  Oh hell. Phillip’s story. Cleaners come today.

  I leave the gym without showering, and hurry to work. When I get to my office, my desk has been cleaned, and the story is gone.

  23

  “So, let me get this straight,” Mike says. “You think we can reduce the impact of this deal on the people on the other side, with only a small reduction in our profit?”

  “Sure.” I nod. “I’m not saying it’s going to be easy to reduce the collateral damage in the market, but we’ve got the right kind of knowledge to do so. Just look at the stuff in the summary, and then we can talk through it in detail.” I push a stapled sheet of paper toward him. “There are copies for everyone here.”

  Leafing through it, Mike gives a low whistle. “This is impressive stuff, Ronnie. When did you come up with this?”

  “Last night when I was talking to…uh, last night. I’d talked to Tom about it, uh, before that, in some detail.” I keep talking quickly, and hope no-one notices how awkward that sounds. “So it’s as much his idea as mine.”

  Mike grunts. “Yeah, I’d figured the great Tom MacWizardy had something to do with it. It looks like the kind of nutty idea that he’d be involved in, which somehow turns out to be genius that no-one else has thought of. That said, it has an extra helping of common sense, which I can only put down to your influence.” He beams. “Well done, Ronnie. I think you are becoming a stabilizing influence on our great leader.”

  I try to hide my smile. I don’t think you’d say that if you knew what we were doing last night. “Thanks, Mike. I guess. I don’t want to take too much of the credit.”

  “No, really. This is really excellent. We’re lucky to have got you, Ronnie. Those Global Finance bastards would wet themselves to get trainees as clever as you. Now, all that has to happen is that Tom has to sell this to the board.”

  “Do you think he can do it?” A sudden fear strikes me. What if they say no?

  Mike shrugs. “Well, they’re not going to like the idea of making less money than they can, but if anyone can convince them, it’s Tom, and he sure as hell wants to. Since you’ve been here, he’s started talking more about making sure we contribute to the community.” He looks sideways at me. “Ronnie, I think you may be responsible for our mighty leader developing a conscience. Any idea how that happened?”

  Uh-oh. My phone rings, and I glance down at it, glad to be able to avoid that line of questioning. “Sorry, guys, it’s my mother; I’d better take this.” I raise my voice. “If everyone’s got a copy of the summary, can I leave you to read it for a bit? I’ll be back shortly.”

  Stepping outside, I put my phone up to my ear. “Momma?”

  “Ronnie, it’s your father.” Oh no. Please, no. “He’s in the hospital.”

  “What happened?” I get a cold feeling in my chest.

  “I don’t know. I came home and found him on the floor. He was fine this morning. I don’t know, Ronnie, I don’t know. I shouldn’t have left him. I—”.

  “Momma. Stop. It’s okay.” I fight to put more calm in my own voice than I feel. “Give me the hospital details, and I’ll go there right away.”

  No matter how new they are, hospitals always have a feeling of weariness for me. I don’t know if everyone feels the same, but there’s a sense that so much has happened there, so much life and death, so many emotions, that you can’t help but be tired.

  “Ms. Haas?” I crouch on the edge of a chair, staring at the vinyl finish on the ward desk.

  “Y-yes?” One of the doctors is in front of me, clip-on tie, stethoscope, carefully-casual shirt designed to make him seem authoritative and yet approachable.

  “Your father is in the ICU. He’s stable, but he’ll need to stay here under observation for a while yet.”

  “Do you know what happened to him?”

  “It looks like he had a release of fluid into the pleural cavity next to his lung. This means that he couldn’t breathe, and that’s why he passed out. We’ve drained the fluid, and he’s breathing normally again. It was lucky your mother found him when she did; he needed immediate attention, and if she hadn’t been there, things would be a lot more serious.”

  I exhale a breath I realize I’ve been holding for some time. “What happens now?”

  The doctor looks at me. “We have to wait to find out if the fluid is going to come back, which is why he has to stay in hospital. If it comes back it, it could mean that it’s being caused by something. We won’t know what until we wait and do some more tests.”

  I stand up, and then sit back down again. “How long wil
l it take?”

  “We don’t know. We have to wait.”

  “Can I see him?”

  He nods. “Sure, he’s awake, although he’s quite tired. It’s just through there.”

  I tiptoe through the darkened ICU. Intensive care always has a hush about it, like being in church, an atmosphere of quiet, focused activity, and people constantly being on watch, like tending the candles and making sure they stay lit. My father is a bed at the far end of the room; he’s without tubes, or bottles, or needles, or any of the other things that are draped over the other patients like awful Christmas decorations, but he looks smaller than usual.

  I approach him slowly. “Hello, Poppa.”

  “Ronnie! It’s good to see you, honey.” He looks up and smiles, and for a moment he’s my father again as I now him. He looks terribly tired, and the skin around his eyes is cracked and yellowed. Seeing my face, he reaches out a hand to touch me. “Don’t worry, honey. I know I look like crap, but I’m feeling okay, honestly. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Not a big deal? Oh, Poppa.” I sit on the bed next to him, and try to find something to say. “Are you bored in here? What are you doing?”

  “Mmmph. I’ve got my book of crosswords, and books to read.” He looks around, grimacing. “The other guests aren’t so talkative, but that’s maybe not such a bad thing. I’ve been sleeping a lot.”

  I force myself to look at him, even though I can feel tears pricking my eyes. “We were really worried about you. Momma is beside herself.”

  “Yeah, I can imagine.” His face is serious for a minute. “Look, Ronnie. You need to do something for me, okay? You need to get home and keep your mother occupied. Don’t let her worry about me day and night, okay? It won’t do any damn good for me, and it’ll just make her ill herself.”

  “I’ll try. But you know she doesn’t always listen to me.”

  He snorts. “No, I know. Just keep on telling her about your job, or something like that. You’ll find plenty of things to talk to her about.” His face quirks. “You could manufacture a crisis for her to fix?”

  I have to giggle, despite the setting. “Thanks, Poppa. Great advice. Manufacture a crisis. Fantastic. I could always count on you for practical solutions to problems.”

  “Hey, it’s always worked for me. Don’t knock it, huh?” He shifts on his pile of pillows, and looks contemplative for a moment. “You know, I didn’t get a chance to say this before, so I should say it now: don’t you ever forget how proud I am of you for doing this job. I always knew you would find something that fits your talents.”

  I blink back tears again. I can’t tell him about it now. I can’t.

  He holds my hand tighter. “Whatever you do, Ronnie, your mother and I will always be proud of you. We did okay, her and I, raising a beautiful, talented, warm-hearted girl like you.” He starts to cough, a rasping sound which echoes around the room.

  There’s a nurse beside me. “Your father needs to sleep some more. You can come back tomorrow, okay?”

  “Okay, just a minute.” Leaning over I kiss my father on the forehead. He can’t talk, but he looks up at me and nods. One hand comes from beneath his blankets and gives me a thumbs-up gesture. As I walk out, I try to make sure no-one sees my eyes.

  24

  I’ve been hanging around the trainee area for an hour now, when I should be working. I should just go back to my desk and wait for someone to tell me when she gets back, but I can’t; I want to be here when she arrives. By the time I was back from the gym, Ronnie had already left to go to the hospital, and no-one here knows anything about what happened. I pace up and down, and toss my phone from one hand to the other, and the minutes creep by.

  Errol and Adam try to engage me in conversation, and I give them polite answers; if they think it’s weird that the head of the team is down here waiting for one of the trainees to turn up, they don’t say anything.

  I’m about to give up, and go back to my desk to try and take my mind off things, when she arrives, eyes puffy and bags all in one hand as she fights the door. She sees my face, and looks away.

  “Ronnie.”

  “It’s okay, Tom, honestly it is.” She drops her bags on her desk. “He’s going to be okay, it’s just…a shock.”

  I look around. “Ronnie, come on. Let’s go somewhere we can talk.” Down the hall, there’s an unused office; I take her by the hand, and we go in and shut the door. As soon as it clicks shut, I put my arms around her. She’s quiet for a while, then takes a deep breath.

  “He’s really sick, Tom. There isn’t anything anyone can do about it. He gets better, or he gets worse, but every time something like this happens, I wonder if this is going to be it. And, one day, I’m going to be right.”

  I would like to say I understand, but that seems pointless. “I see what you mean.” She separates from me, and looks at me, wiping her eyes.

  “Look, Tom…whatever happens here, you need to know it’s not going to affect my work. I’ll deal with my family situation on my own time.”

  “Ronnie, don’t be ridiculous. If you need to be away from work, take time to do what you need to. You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be. Whatever happens, I’ll deal with it. Nobody is going to think less of you because you want to be with your family.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m grateful for that, but I need to be a professional, okay? I know how important the work we’re doing is for the firm, and I’m not going to be the one who lets us down, especially not since you and I…” She tails off.

  I slam my hand down on the desk, harder than I intended to, and she jumps. “Ronnie, you don’t understand! I’m saying this because you’re part of my team, and in my team we look after each other, okay? I’m not saying it because we were…together.”

  “How will it look to the rest of the team?” She looks at me disbelieving, and I try to contain my frustration.

  “For Heaven’s sake, it will look like I’m a caring guy who treats his employees compassionately, that’s all. You’re not getting special treatment, okay.” I take her hand. “Just do what you need to do, and learn to accept people taking care of you once in a while.”

  She sniffs defiantly. “I don’t want you going easy on me just because of this.”

  “Ronnie, this isn’t some situation where people are going to think you’re getting an easy ride. I need you happy and content to do your best work, and that’s the end of it. Now come on; take the time you need to, and as a team we’ll do all we can to support you, just like we would anyone else.”

  “Okay.” She looks at the floor. “I…thanks.”

  I put my arms around her again, and quickly, lightly, kiss her forehead. “Ronnie, remember; you are more lucky than words can say to have a family. I don’t have a family like you do; so this team is my family. That’s why I care about them so much, and now, that includes you. Do you understand?”

  “I do.”

  “Good. What happened last night was…” I pause. She looks at me, tear-streaked, and it’s a sudden shock. This morning she was so forthright, so confident, and I realize she’s unsure about what I’m going to say. “Wonderful. It was wonderful, and it’s what I want.”

  “Really?” There’s a hint of that wonderful smile.

  I want to tell her that everything is going to be alright, that I’m going to make things okay, no matter what.

  But I don’t, because I can’t promise that. I take her by the shoulders, and stare into her eyes. “Listen to me. I never expected that—us—to happen. But now it has happened, I feel like I’ve woken up after being asleep for a long time. Believe one thing, Ronnie Haas, you are what I want.”

  She looks around. “How are we going to handle,” an arm gesture, “this?”

  I shake my head. “In truth, I’m not sure. But we’ll find a way. Just trust me, okay?”

  “O-okay.”

  “Good. Now, are you able to go back to your desk?”

  She bristles. “Of course. I’m not
an idiot, Tom.”

  “Okay, okay. I have to go and present the new deal to the board for acceptance. I don’t know how they’re going to like the idea of reducing their profit, just so a bunch of small investors don’t get wiped out, but I’m going to give it my best shot. I’ll talk to you later.” As we leave, I squeeze her hand, and after a brief pause, she squeezes mine back.

  25

  “So you’re serious?” Tom says, turning the pen over in his hands, and looking closely at my face.

  I nod. “Uh-huh.” Uncrossing my legs, I stand up and walk over to his desk. “There is absolutely no question that the original series of Battlestar Galactica is better than the new one.” His eyes widen.

  “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from someone whose opinion I used to respect.” He shakes his finger at me. “The original series was a cheesy 1980s Star Wars knockoff, whose only redeeming feature was—for the time—an enormous budget for special effects. It was so like Star Wars, the production company was actually sued by George Lucas, for Heaven’s sake!”

  I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “The new series was a complex political mystery-thriller which explored concepts of trans-humanism and self-awareness, within a framework of state control and the rights of the individual. It’s a vastly richer and more interesting experience.”

  I mime a theatrical yawn. “Wake me when you’re done with your framework. In the meantime I’m going to be watching funny robots.” Leaning over his desk, I kiss him lightly on the forehead. “But, I will say that we can agree to disagree.”

  “Mhmmhhmmm. I must really think you’re something to be tolerating this kind of dissent.” He mock-frowns at me. “Now, as much as I’d rather argue with you about TV shows all day, we’d better talk about work. You said you’ve found another way we can shave some time off the execution process?”

  “Yeah, sure. It’s going to be fairly easy to get another 20% speedup with our current algorithms, if we just change the order. I’ve got a summary here.” I push another piece of paper across the desk to him. “But I’ll need some time from Mike and Billy to review it, okay?”