by Mel Walker
Sarah squeezed her hand once again. “Story as old as time.”
Leslie closed our eyes. “A few years ago one of my girlfriends had a sex toy party. I picked up a magic bullet.”
Sarah bit down on her tongue, Leslie could tell she wanted to react. Afraid she would lose her courage, Leslie raised her index finger and continued. “I felt so guilty that first time I used it. It took me a month before I used it again, then two weeks, then weekly. Nowadays, it sits in my top drawer next to the Costco ten-pack of batteries.”
Leslie used her pinky finger to wipe away a tear from the corner of her eye.
“So you miss the sex?” Sarah nearly whispered.
Leslie surprised herself as she shook her head, “not really. I mean I do, and we do have sex, according to the schedule we’d fallen into after all these years. I just thought that after Jake went away, we would go back to our pre-baby days. We spoke about it; you know date night, sexting, all of that. Yet…And just so I’m clear, it's not about the sex. I know Justin adores me and would do anything in the world for me. But is it wrong for me to feel that I should have to ask? That I want my husband to see me as a woman. Not a wife, not a mother, not a business owner; but as a full-on sexy as hell woman who should be continually courted?”
“Of course not,” Sarah began. “Men in general, and Justin, in particular, are slow to recognize change around them. If you are going to wait for them, you may need to switch from battery to electric - I did years ago, and I’ve saved so much money.”
Leslie couldn’t suppress the laugh, “I can’t believe I told you all of that.”
“Talk to him. They may be slow to recognize, but men love to solve problems. Hell, knowing Justin he’ll probably create a Justin bullet for the two of you to enjoy together.”
Leslie raised her hand to her face trying to hide her blush. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Afraid of, damn girl tell him he can send it over to Abe and me.”
Leslie nodded as the pair clinked their coffee mugs together. It felt good to get her thoughts out of her head. Conversations between her and Justin had always been easy for decades. That had shifted slowly somehow over the years. Everything but their feelings for each other taking priority. They had always worked through these valleys, yet this time it felt so different. Leslie could temporarily deceive herself as to the reason, but deep down she knew the name which made this time different.
******
Ninety minutes later, Leslie still sat inside Max’s. Sarah had left nearly thirty minutes earlier.
Her finger hovered over her phone as it suddenly vibrated, the name on display causing all sorts of reactions. “Oh my god, your ears must be ringing I was just thinking of you.”
“Hey, Mom. All good?”
Just the sound of Jake’s voice soothed Leslie. It had only been a few weeks, but it sounded deeper, more mature. Her baby was growing up.
“Everything is great. I just had lunch with Sarah. I’m at Max’s finishing up some paperwork. How is school going?”
“Busy but good. They are pouring so much work on us that I use my entire weekend just keeping my head above water.”
Leslie shuffled the papers in front of her, debating whether to tell him that the paperwork never stops. “It’ll get better, once you figure it out. The first semester is a period of adjustment, you remember when you went out for track. Those early runs decimated you. A few months later you barely broke a sweat running five miles. You got this Jake, baby you’re a star.”
“Geesh Mom, if you break into that song by Prince I’m going to hang up.” His laughter caused Leslie’s eyes to water.
“If I wasn’t out in public I’d facetime you a private concert.”
“Thank god for miracles.” The line went quiet for a beat, Leslie could hear from the shift in his breathing that Jake was probably staring up at the ceiling, a habit he had whenever he struggled with bringing up a difficult topic.
“Jake, spill the milk,” she uttered. Her shorthand to him, to spit it out no matter what it was they would clean up the mess together.
The long exhale confirmed his struggle. “Is everything ok with Dad?”
A bolt shot through her as she shifted in her seat, a thousand thoughts raced through her head, “why do you say that?” what did he say to you? What she wanted to say.
“He didn’t call me last night,” Jake began. “Once a week, same time every week he calls. You know Dad, he loves his routines. I texted him last night, and he didn’t respond till this morning with one word – sorry.”
Leslie exhaled, not realizing that she had shifted to the balls of her feet. “He’s fine. He went out for drinks last evening with his co-workers. You know he’s a light-weight. He came home and passed right out. I’ll have him call you tonight.”
The laughter across the line caught her by surprise, “what’s so funny?”
“You guys,” he snickered again, “Dad mentioned to me last week how much you are running around with all your events, and now he’s bar hopping.”
“It was drinks with co-workers.”
“Whatever you say. I’m happy for you guys, especially you Mom.”
“Awww, that’s so sweet. Little Jakey is proud of his mommy,” she couldn’t believe how much she missed poking fun at him.
“I’m going to take it back.”
“No take backs.”
“So I go away to college, and you guys turn back the clock?”
The smile slipped from her face like the sunshine being blocked by a fast-moving cloud.
“Mom, I’m good, go and enjoy I know how much you’ve sacrificed for me. It’s your time now, go grab your brass ring.”
Leslie beamed with pride, “when did you get so smart?”
“It was always there, just hidden under the layers of cookie crumbs.” He laughed.
This time the silence spoke volumes. “I miss you, Jake. I’ll have your dad call you. Thank you for calling, you have no idea how much this means to me.”
“Love you mom and trust me I do know. I miss you guys too. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Leslie sat the phone down on top of the pile of City Clerk papers which now spread across three tables. Jake’s call had put her in a good mood, one which she didn’t want to waste on paperwork. She hadn’t driven today, as parking by the City Clerk’s office was always an issue. The meters good for only a maximum of thirty minutes thereby forcing her to leave the building, feed the meters and in some cases lose her spot in the beauracy. After twice ending up with tickets, she realized it was cheaper to grab a taxi.
If she was completely honest with herself, she also wanted to avoid Justin just a little while longer. She knew they were on one of their off cycles when no matter what either of them did they irritated the other.
They had gone through these spells before, but somehow this felt different. He would ask for help one minute then avoid her when she was ready to offer advice. The misadventure of last night's meal still weighed on her mind as her thoughts turned to dinner. Would he even come home after last night?
The thought of going home and diving back into the mind-numbing paperwork had no appeal. She couldn’t risk losing momentum. She needed a place in town to work, a place, ideally with other busy professionals around that would push her productivity.
Leslie reached her hands toward the sky, stretching. A glint of the sun on the glass caused her to turn. Her eyes instantly connecting to the solution to her problem; Colleague, Collaborator, and Customer - My Workplace.
While Max’s Diner had emptied out, it appeared that My Workplace was just hitting its stride. Through the window, Leslies spotted nearly a dozen people working at the desks. Toward the back of the room stood an animated Peter engaged in a conversation with two millennial types. One held up his laptop as Peter pointed toward Leslie’s OLED frame. The picture changing from a portrait to a spreadsheet.
A sense of pride spread through Leslie as the customers jumped in excite
ment. Even from across the street, Leslie could see Peter beam and point toward the frame. She didn’t need to hear him to know he was passing all the praise to her. They truly were becoming business partners. Somehow their businesses worked together.
Leslie thought of Jake’s advice,, it’s your time, go and enjoy yourself. Her pulse raced as she stood and stuffed the papers into her briefcase.
She called across the diner to Max. “Hey, Max?”
Max’s head was buried deep in a ledger, a yellow pencil in between her teeth. “What can I get you?”
“Not me,” Leslie began as she walked toward the counter, “when Peter comes across, what is his favorite treat?”
Max turned without hesitating, “that’s simple,” she said as she grabbed a paper bag, “he can never get enough of my Cinnamon muffins. One or two?”
The minute Max asked Leslie knew the correct answer, “two.”
She and Peter were going to be partners, the universe kept pushing them together. Leslie had given up trying to fight it.
* * *
Chapter Eleven
The faces were familiar, but the place seemed foreign to Justin. It had been months since he had last eaten in the company cafeteria. A combination of ordering lunch delivery, the company supplied lunches in conference rooms, and the occasional lunch from home limited the number of times he had to travel the six floors to the company cafeteria.
The layout was different. On previous visits, he would spend up to ten minutes deciding which section to visit. The all you can eat one price buffet, the custom mixed salad bar, the carving station the cutting board where they prepared custom sandwiches, the grill, the pasta bar, pizza cafe, healthy choice selection, the dessert bar, build your own salad bar, the cuisine of the day and the seafood station. Also, the cafeteria was usually abuzz with workers running in every direction.
It wasn't the quality of the food which limited Justin's choice in the past; it was the fatigue factor. So many options, as well as the cafeteria, had proven time and time again to be just another corporate playground. Corporate politics became grand theatre here. Who was eating with whom, which group members were missing from a table, which married colleagues huddled in a corner booth whispering not too secretly, which Executive decided to grace the masses with their presence, did a colleague stay in the cafeteria too long, the list proved endless.
By lunchtime all Justin wanted were a few minutes to himself, a quick meal and a break from the corporate mill. The cafeteria was possibly the worst place in the world to get any of these things.
Krystal tapped Justin as he continued to take in the scene. "Over there." She directed his attention toward two colleagues chatting and laughing together. It was Barry and Marcus sharing a laugh as they stood on the cashier line.
"Unbelievable," he muttered as he turned, "reason number seven hundred thirty-three as to why I don't like this place. Geesh, what the hell have they done to here? Where the hell is the taco bar?"
"Wow, it sure has been a while since you've been here. They got rid of those two quarters ago, when we got slammed in the Wall Street Journal."
Justin continued to spin. “That article which slammed our leaders for private jets and clothing stipends as the stock continued to plummet?"
"Yeah. Our executives in their wisdom said they would show them. They didn't get rid of the private jets and clothing stipends - they cut services. Haven't you noticed the cleaning lady only comes twice a week as opposed to every night? Mailroom service now takes an additional day from the mail room; poor suckers got hit with a forty percent cut. As for this wonderful cafeteria, fifty percent cut, removed the taco bar, the carving station, pasta bar, etc. They've gone to what they call the self-service model. Everything prepackaged - just don't ask when. "
Justin stepped toward the soup area. He lifted the lid labeled Chicken Noodle. The clear broth caused him to reread the label. He reached for the ladle, raising it and only discovering clear liquid which he assumed to be broth. As he dipped deeper, he finally located some noodles which severely lacked chicken, carrots, and other vegetables. "Someone should be shot." Justin pulled out a sharpie from his pocket and crossed out the word chicken and added the word water. "There." He said pointing to the noodle water sign.
A smile crossed Krystal's lips as she pointed, "If you thought that was bad you have to bring that sharpie over to the pre-made sandwich bar."
"From what I’ve seen thus far I’m not sure I have enough ink in my sharpie. Let's go there." Justin pointed to the longest line in the cafeteria, the grill station.
"A wise choice. The fire kills all the germs and hides the fact that we've downgraded to Grade D beef."
"Funny Krystal. I'm assuming they still make a decent burger here?"
"Yeah, that’s properly the safest choice you'll make today." She fell in line behind him, about ten people in line in front of them. "You didn't say how it went."
Justin took a deep breath; he knew it would be only a matter of time until he had to address it eventually. "I have textbooks older and wiser than our new leader."
"What's a textbook again professor?"
"I mean, did you see him? When I first saw him, I thought it was take your kid to work day already. My first thought was I bet you don't even smell you are so close to the newborn."
Her loud laughter caused Justin to turn from facing the grill to her. He adjusted the tray underneath his arm.
"I mean, damn Krystal; I know management wants to shake up the troops and all but really. He was a god damn toddler teacher, and he found that too demanding. He couldn't manage a group of barely potty trained pipsqueaks who, if they showed up and put on a uniform passes. How the hell is he going to manage a god damn thing here?"
"Have you considered that maybe they don't care?"
The question caused a pause from him. "Don't care?" He flipped his empty tray under his arm once again as if pondering the thought for the very first time. "Incompetent? Yes. Stupid? Yes. Evil and manipulative? Yes. But no, I’ve never considered that they don't care, although that would explain so much."
"I mean, look how screwed up this transition has gone. Either they are brain challenged, or they don't care. Think about it. If the management team is tearing apart the company and selling it off in parts, their bonuses will be based on how quickly they can separate the organization and reduce costs rights?"
A nodding head prompted her to continue.
"Well, if you want to increase the flight of workers, people with families and mortgages what better way than to scare them away. Sort of like spooking a house to get the residents to leave on their own."
"So what you are saying is ..."
"Yes. Barry is your personal ghost. Didn't you hear the chains rattling when he walks?"
The laughter faded quickly as the pair both took in a rapidly approaching Paul. His hair was matted as if he had just stuck it under a faucet, his face once again a bright red and the color continuing to darken as he got closer. "Those bastards," he began even before he reached them.
The statement came across so loud that several people in the line stepped back, some squeaking offense as they did.
"Paul, what happened?" Justin stepped toward him trying to calm him down.
His hands moved as quickly as his mouth as he continued to stomp in place, his eyes darting left and right, "they don't know who they are playing with. They are going to be so sued."
"Who Paul? Who?" Krystal attempted.
"This company. Our HR department. Who else?" he looked at her as if she had three heads. "I went back to them just like you guys told me to."
"No Paul, that is actually the opposite of what we said. We said for you to review all the information they sent you to see if there were any other options," Justin began concern rising in his voice. "What did you do Paul?"
"I asked them a simple question, Justin. One simple question. I asked them if I took a different position for six months, you know to get me to my thirty years. If
I did that would I still get my lifetime medical? Simple right? Right?” Paul’s eyes bulged as his head bounced from Justin to Krystal and back again. His voice rose even higher, “Right?"
Krystal replied in a lowered voice hoping Paul would follow suit, "right Paul."
"I told them I would work in the mailroom. Hell, I would work in the janitorial services group. For lifetime medical I would take any position. Hell, they don't even have to pay me - but don't tell them that."
"You did not tell them you work as a janitor Paul. Don't let them do that to you."
"You don't understand Justin. I have high blood pressure, …"
"There's a shocker," Krystal added.
Paul ignored her, "high cholesterol, I’m overweight, have bad kidneys, bad knees, bad eyes, hell I have a bad disposition." His voice rose again, "my dad had three heart attacks, his dad before him a stroke. I'm on a surgeon's table guaranteed within the next three years, no way around it. I need that medical coverage otherwise it will break me. So yes if I have to clean someone's toilet for six months so be it."
Both Krystal and Justin got deathly quiet as the line slowly inched forward, several people all of a sudden realizing they preferred the prepackaged sandwiches over the hot grill choices.
"But those bastards ..." Paul continued with his rant. "... they refused. In fact, they suggested that I was unqualified for any position in this organization. The HR rep essentially said without saying that I’m blacklisted. My name and employee id flagged in the system. I can't transfer; apply for a new position or anything. She said the only way I can work for General Modification is if I left and came back and all my seniority would reset to day one. Those bastards."
Justin shook his head from side to side as he pondered the appropriate response.
"Next." The grill attendant ordered as Justin realized the line had cleared in front of them. He stepped to the counter, "uuhh, let me have the grilled cheese."
Krystal added, "I’ll have the same with tomatoes."