by Terry Fallis
My first act in the morning, when I became capable of rational thought, was to secure late checkouts for us both. Matt was still sprawled on the couch, passed out or asleep, or more likely a little of both. I hauled the spare blanket from the shelf in the closet and covered him with it. Then I took a shower. I stood under the strong, full stream for just over an hour, though it felt like just a regular ten-minute shower. When I emerged, it was nearly 11:00 a.m. Matt was gone but had left a note in his barely decipherable hand.
Bro
I’ll call about a late checkout and then I’ll be in my shower. Meet you in the lobby at 1:00.
Bro
Matt had a three o’clock flight booked to Toronto where he’d catch his London flight later that evening. We said very little to one another in the cab. I think it was a combination of our shared hangover and a dawning realization that having found each other after so many years, we were about to separate again, this time voluntarily. It didn’t really feel right.
I waited with my bags while Matt checked in at the Air Canada counter. I would just catch a cab to my apartment from there. Matt joined me a few minutes later. At the Ottawa airport, security and the gates are downstairs. I walked him down the long flight of stairs but could really go no further. The line-up for security snaked almost to the foot of the stairs. Matt had his laptop backpack slung over one shoulder. We stepped over to the side to let others pass.
“It makes no sense that I’m going back to London and you’re staying here,” Matt said. “We’re not nearly caught up.”
“Matt, this isn’t goodbye for another quarter-century. We’re going to see each other again, often. I’m coming to London for Christmas. That’s only a couple of months away. Dad’s going to try to come over here. And who knows how often you’ll be back for meetings with Stephanie. I can zip down to New York or even San Francisco when that happens.”
“I know, but it’s still weird that you found me and now we’re willingly separating again.”
“Matt, I need to be back here for a bit. I need to get back to normal after Mom and after finding you and Dad. I need to lie low for a bit and figure it all out,” I replied, still not sure if what I was saying was logical, either to Matt or to me. “But we have Skype and FaceTime and can talk as much as you like. Every day if we want.”
Matt just stared at his shoes.
“Matthew, at the risk of getting maudlin, we’ve found each other. We’re not losing each other again. We are together. We just won’t always be together in the same city.”
“I know. I know,” he said. “Right then, bring it in.”
We hugged.
“Thank you for yesterday’s little field trip. It meant a lot to me, and I really believe it helped me,” I said, holding both of his upper arms. “I’ll Skype you tomorrow morning when I get in to the office – 7:30 Ottawa time would be 12:30 London time. Okay?”
“Good.”
Then he turned and joined the line. I climbed the staircase but waited and watched over the railing. Matt looped into and out of sight as the line moved up and back through the cordoned path before emptying into the security screening area. When Matt made his last appearance below me, I suddenly understood. The pieces finally aligned in my mind. It shouldn’t have taken so long.
“Matt. Hey Matthew, up here!” I shouted.
He looked up and eventually found me. I had to speak quite loudly to make myself heard.
“You never really had laryngitis, did you?” I called.
“What?” he replied, pointing to his ears, and shaking his head.
“You never really lost your voice,” I said, more loudly this time.
“I was sick as a dog,” he shouted back.
“You might have been sick, but you never lost your voice.”
“I don’t remember. I was sick!”
“Maybe, but you never really lost your voice, did you,” I pushed.
“I lost mine, and you found yours.”
He smiled, waved, and was gone.
Raise me up, please. But no. Lowered into too many waiting cold hands. A coat around me. “It’s over,” someone said. No, it’s just begun.
CHAPTER 16
Abby was right. It happened the very day I returned to Facetech. I really hadn’t noticed much going on beneath the surface, but Abby swore it was there and it was big. Then again, I already felt different in the wake of my trip, so I wasn’t exactly in the best position to notice subtle shifts in the currents and eddies of office politics. I was dealing with my own eddies and currents.
It wasn’t until I laid eyes on Abby again that first morning back that I realized just how much I’d missed her. I was in early, just to get myself ready to re-enter my working life. I was in my cubicle, leaning over trying to feed my laptop power cord down the hole cut in my desk to plug in to the power bar on the floor. I hadn’t heard her approach but was made vaguely aware of her presence when she jumped on my back. Like some failed Olympic gymnast who clings to the vaulting horse rather than somersaulting off it and sticking the dismount, she simply stuck to me. Abby clearly thought the whole dismounting thing was overrated. She’d wrapped her arms around me tight and wasn’t letting go.
“You’re back! You’re back!” she cried, still in full piggyback mode, her legs gripping my hips.
Yep, that’s my back, all right.
“Um, hi Abby.”
Like a dog chasing its tail, I turned around on instinct, hoping to greet her face to face. Normally this manoeuvre would have worked quite well. But with her essentially strapped to my back, it worked less well.
Eventually, she let go and dropped to the floor.
“And look at you in your funky hip new haircut!” she said, now holding my hands and giving my coif a pretty heavy once-over. “Seriously, dude, if you hadn’t texted me that you’d be in this morning, I’d never have recognized you or jumped on your back. You’re completely transformed. You look flickin’ amazing! Seriously. It’s like you’ve gone from playing bass in a ’70s acid rock band, to the cover of GQ, in one shot, other than the clothes, I mean. Me likey. Me really likey.”
Thanks. I figured it was time for a change.
“Thanks. I figured it was time for a change.”
“Well, not really, Alex, the time for a change came and went years ago,” she said. “But the important thing is, you’re home!” She gave me a big hug. I squeezed back and, for the first time, felt natural doing it. “It’s so good to have you back. It was weird not having you here where I could harass you at will.”
What a coincidence, I missed your harassment. Why do you think I’m back?
“What a coincidence, I missed your harassment. Why do you think I’m back?” I replied, looking directly at her. “I practised my eye contact every single day and thought of you.”
“Well, I’m glad because you sure weren’t practising texting or emailing,” she said. “Wringing flocking updates out of you was hard work. And as you know, I don’t much like hard work.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry I wasn’t in touch more often. There was just so much going on that it was hard to find a moment to brief you on everything,” I replied. “But now I can tell you the whole story in person.”
“I want the full scoop, if not while we’re working, then afterwards,” she said. “Deal?”
“Deal.”
She stared at me for a few more moments until it became a little awkward. Well, awkward for me. She seemed to be fine with the staring.
“Man, you look good. Now it’s critical that we get you pants without pleats.”
Good band name – Pants Without Pleats.
I just smiled at her. Naturally, Abby was wearing tight and not exactly office-appropriate jeans, along with – speaking of ’70s acid rock bands – a black Deep Purple T-shirt.
Aren’t you tempting termination with that outfit?
“Is Simone the Terrible away today, or is your wardrobe choice this morning an act of civil disobedience?” I asked.
Do you sometimes rock the old fly-fishing-Lancelot motif?
“Do you sometimes rock the old fly-fishing Lancelot motif?” I asked. “I’d like to see that.”
She lowered her head slightly and stared at me, her brow furrowed.
“Who are you and what have you done with my workmate, Alex?”
“What do you mean?” I replied. “I’m just making witty conversation.”
“Yeah, and eye contact, too,” she said. “I like it. And if you’re interested, I picked up that one-of-a-kind outfit at an estate sale. The previous owner drowned one day while fishing. He tripped over a rock in the river, sank to the bottom, and couldn’t get up.”
I laughed. So did she. We caught up for the next forty minutes. It was nice. It was really nice.
—
Simone had called an all-staff meeting for 9:00 a.m. sharp. She arrived at 8:45. I popped my head in her office at 8:58. She appeared to be deeply engaged in her iPad.
“Hi, Simone,” I said. “Just wanted to let you know that I’m back and on the job.”
She looked up, squinted, and paused, a vacant expression on her face.
“Who are you?”
What do you mean, who am I? Even your attention span can’t be that short.
“It’s Alex, Alex MacAskill. Remember? I work here. I’m back now.”
She squinted, stared some more, and eventually nodded.
“Right. But something’s different. Did you gain weight?” she asked.
No, I gained a brother and lost some hair.
“No, but I did get a haircut while I was away,” I replied. “That’s probably it.”
Simone apparently lost interest and returned to her iPad.
“Boardroom,” she said.
“Right, on my way,” I replied. “And thanks for the time off these last…”
“Boardroom!” she snapped.
I took a seat as far from the action end of the table as possible. I said hi to more of my colleagues than I usually did. Everyone was nice welcoming me back. They all seemed to like my buzz-cut, or so they said. They asked about my trip but clearly knew nothing about my successful search for a long-lost brother and father. I felt quite calm. I decided to test-drive Wendy’s idea and act in the role of me, but as I’d like to be. Abby sat across from me and spent a good part of the time smiling at me. I smiled back and occasionally made a funny face or crossed my eyes to make her laugh. You know, classic grade six classroom fare, maybe grade seven.
By 8:59, the entire coding team from both floors had assembled in the boardroom. No one knew why Simone had called the meeting, but that was not unusual. Telling us why we were meeting would be surrendering some of her power over us. Simone was very, very good at protecting, preserving, and promoting her power. As usual, she could see from her desk that we were all present and accounted for by the nine o’clock starting time for the meeting. And we could all see she was still busy with her iPad. My money was on Candy Crush but it could have been plain old Facebook. She arrived right on time, at 9:09, and settled on her throne.
“All right, everyone. I needed to avoid another meeting at this time, so thanks for coming to this one, not that you had any choice in the matter,” Simone said. “Okay, so since there really isn’t an agenda for this meeting, just tell me where are we on Gold?”
She was looking directly at me for some reason. I decided just to wait her out in case she was actually looking at the person next to me.
“Alex? Update please,” she said.
Why are you asking me? I’ve been gone for nearly four weeks.
“Well, Simone, I’ve been gone for nearly four weeks. This is my first day back. So I may not be in the best position to respond,” I replied.
“I would have expected that having been gone for so long during a crucial time in the company’s history, that your first priority, now that you’re finally back, would be to figure out what the hell happened while you were sunning yourself on some beach.”
Actually, I was in London and Moscow, you psycho-nutbar.
“Actually, I was in London and Moscow, you ssssee,” I said. “I was dealing with pressing family matters in the wake of my mother’s death. I was never on a beach. As for Gold, Design and UX did a fantastic job. I really like what they’ve come up with on the interface. I think it’s clean and simple but still sophisticated. I hear the soft launch last week went well and that Gold has been quietly available for download by our beta testers since then. As far as I can tell, we can formally launch any time, at your imperial command.”
Shit. I had really meant to leave that last phrase in my mind instead of dropping it on the boardroom table. All of my colleagues looked as if I’d just burped the alphabet in one go, which, incidentally, I successfully accomplished once back in 2001 with my mother as a witness.
“What did you just say?” Simone said.
I was about to fall on my sword and rethink the entire “act as the version of the person you want to become” thing when the glass door to the boardroom swung open. Carleen, Facetech’s director of Human Resources, stood there. I’d never been happier to see someone from HR.
“We’re in the middle of a meeting here,” Simone said, annoyed.
“Simone, we have a call with Vancouver in my office at 9:15. It’s about to start,” Carleen replied.
“I can’t do that call, it conflicts with this important all-hands-on-deck staff meeting. We’re trying to build something and get it out the door. I don’t have time for calls not directly related to my ability to bring Gold to market.”
Carleen seemed to be barely holding on to the end of her rope.
“Trust me, this call is related to your ability to launch Gold. Please join me in my office,” Carleen replied. “Stephen will be calling any minute now.”
Carleen turned and hustled back to her office.
“Shit, shit, shit! I have no time for this,” Simone snapped. “Don’t anybody move!”
She stood up and stomped out of the room.
I watched, along with my colleagues, as Carleen lowered the blinds in her office as Simone arrived and dropped into a chair. Every HR director who inhabits a glass-walled office needs blinds.
It took about six minutes. We were still watching as the door to Carleen’s office was flung open and Simone Ashe made a beeline for her own office with an expression on her face that nicely straddled the line between distraught and deranged. She carried a letter-sized manila envelope. Carleen followed but did not venture into Simone’s office. Rather, she kind of hovered just outside the door. Inside, Simone was banging around, opening and slamming drawers, sometimes pulling out some items and stuffing them in her briefcase. Finally, she stood up from her desk, shoved her overflowing inbox onto the floor making quite an impressive noise that easily reached our ears in the boardroom, and walked past Carleen without a word.
Two security guards materialized from I don’t know where and escorted Simone out the Facetech office door and presumably down to her car in the parking garage.
Carleen entered the boardroom.
“I’m sorry you all had to see that,” she started. “In case it’s not already clear, Simone Ashe is no longer an employee of Facetech. This is not a single, isolated move, but just one piece in a larger, longer-term reallocation of resources. You’ll hear more about these changes in a company-wide town-hall conference call this afternoon. Until then, please just try to stay focused on your own roles, your own jobs, and let’s concentrate on getting our work done. If any of you wish to talk about this, my door is always open.”
We all returned to our workstations, a little shell-shocked, but thrilled that Simone Ashe was now officially an ex-employee.
“Well, that took a lot longer
than it should have,” Abby said. “She should have been toasted months ago.”
“Ding-dong, the witch is dead,” I replied.
“And what got into you in there?” Abby asked just as her phone rang.
She reached around to her side of the partition and picked up the receiver.
“Abby here,” she said.
Her eyes widened as she listened.
“Sure, Carleen. I’ll come right over.”
She hung up and turned to me.
“Fuckitty fuck fuck.”
“What did she say?” I asked.
“She told me not to worry, but that she wanted to see me.”
“Well, that’s good. She wouldn’t have told you not to worry if there was any reason to, you know, worry,” I said.
She grabbed her notebook and patted my shoulder as she headed over to Carleen’s office.
“Godspeed,” I said.
A casual observer would have said that I was busy working away for the next fifteen minutes, but I was just going through the motions, making my hands move over my keyboard, but doing absolutely nothing. I glanced periodically over my shoulder to monitor Carleen’s office. The blinds were still lowered. Finally, Abby emerged and walked back to her chair. I couldn’t tell from the look on her face whether it was good news or bad. I slid my chair around to her side.
“Well?” I asked. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t really know. It hasn’t sunk in yet,” she said.
“What hasn’t sunk in? I’m dying here,” I said. “Did they hand you Simone’s job?”
She contorted her face in an “Are you insane?” kind of way.
“No! Of course not. But I’ve been offered a promotion to the new London office that’s opening next week.”
“London! That’s amazing! Congratulations. You said yes, right? Please tell me you said yes.”