The Pursuit of Other Interests: A Novel (29 page)

“You need any help with those boxes?” Charlie asked.

“No, I can get them. Just pop open the back.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. There’s only three of them. They’re light.”

Charlie reached down and unlatched the rear door. “Hope your car is all right.”

“Yeah, we’ll see. They said they’d pick it up tomorrow.” Walter opened the door and grimaced when the wind hit his face. Then he crouched down low and looked back inside. “Thanks, you know, for getting me home in this weather,” he said. “You saved my ass. I appreciate it. I do.” Walter awkwardly reached out his hand and when Charlie shook it, he knew this was the reason he had come all this way. Guilty men seek forgiveness anywhere they can.

“See you later,” Charlie said.

“Yeah, maybe. And say hello to your wife Donna.”

“I will.”

“All right. I’ll see you, maybe.”

“All right,” Charlie said.

He turned around in the middle of the street, then headed back down Damen Avenue, stopping in front of his old house again. He sensed an epiphany was approaching, heavy with purpose, and he was right. He threw the Navigator into park.

Seeing their old house in the snowfall, the glow of a bedroom light, the slight rise in the lawn by the front steps, the now-leafless but always messy birch tree by the street, he felt like he was looking at a photograph, something that should exist in memory only. He swallowed. After he died, on the application form to heaven, he would list this address, not their house in Wilton, not even the house he grew up in as a child, but this house as home.

He sat there in a half trance, the heat blowing high, his wet clothes sticking to his tired body. He turned his wipers off and watched the snow stick on his windshield, amazed at how fast it gathered. The house soon disappeared from view, then he too had a sense of disappearing.

There was a sudden knock on his window and this brought him back. He lowered it. A young boy of about ten holding a shovel looked in at him, cheeks red, jacket open to the wind, yellow-and-black-striped scarf loosely tied around his neck.

“You stuck?” the boy asked. He had a round face and curly black hair, flecked white with snow.

“No.”

A man next appeared over the boy’s shoulder. He also had a shovel, this one slung over his shoulder. He was bundled up in a large parka, a knit hat pulled down low over suspicious eyes.

“You okay?” he yelled.

“Yeah,” Charlie said.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” Charlie said. “You should put a hat on,” he told the boy. He smiled, turned the wipers back on, and drove off.

It took him more than three hours to get home and when he did, he walked straight upstairs to their bedroom, not bothering to take off his still damp clothes. He needed to talk to Donna, immediately and finally. He now knew what he had to say.

He opened the door, expecting to see her. Instead, he found an empty room.

He switched on a light, glanced at his watch. It was close to midnight. Fighting back panic, he glanced into her closet, not sure what he was looking for: a missing suitcase, a note, some signs of departure. He bounded downstairs, taking them two at a time. The house was dark and he could hear the wind, a thin, high cry.

He raced through the dining room, the kitchen, the family room, and finally found her standing in the reading nook, looking out the window. The lights from the deck illuminated the snow and it sparkled.

“Donna?”

She didn’t respond. Instead, she turned from the window and softly made her way in bare feet to the kitchen, passing right by him with unseeing eyes, a worried, faraway look on her face. She was, as he suspected, asleep.

He followed her until she stopped by the island. It was only then that he approached her and carefully put his fingertips in the palm of one of her hands. He gently steered her upstairs to their bedroom.

After he had covered her with a blanket, he pulled up a chair to watch her sleep. Her eyes were closed and her breathing even and shallow.

His first experience with Donna’s sleepwalking had been disturbing. They had been married only a few weeks when he awoke, late at night, to an empty bed. Searching frantically, he had found her in the backyard, sitting cross-legged on the grass. It was the first warm night of spring and the air was filled with the scent of lilacs. He remembered watching her as she gazed up at the moon, young and pretty and peaceful. He had no idea she was sleeping, and after he approached her and took her wrists in his hands, he asked for an explanation. Her face crumpled when he did this, fell into itself, confused and terrified. When she started to cry, he realized his response had been wrong. He should have let her be, should have let her gaze up at the moon in her dream.

As he watched her sleep now, he tried to control his emotions. Things were rumbling inside of him, though. Finding her gone like that had put a deep scare in him.

“Listen, Donna, listen,” he said, even though he thought she was sleeping. “I want you to stay here with me, with us, forever. I don’t want to lose you. I love you. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll go to therapy, that counselor. And I don’t care what happened in Maine or wherever. I don’t care. The last few years have been terrible, I know. It was like I left you. I brought you out here, forced you out here, then I left you. I should have stayed home. I know that now. With you and with Kyle. I was wrong. I just got caught up in the game. It was just a stupid game.” He paused, waiting for her to say something, but apparently she was still asleep.

“I was at our old house,” he continued “I was just there. I had to drop this guy off, this guy Walter Konkist, he says he knows you, anyway I was sitting in the snow looking up at our bedroom window. The light was on. And I remember how I used to feel when I came home late, and saw that light on, and knew you were waiting for me. How good that felt.” He stopped, ran a hand over his face, tried to regroup. “I was lying to myself, and lying to you and to Kyle. I used to think I was working so hard for our family, for us, but I know now that I was just working for me. Everything I did was because of me. I’m sorry. I want to get things right now, but I’m running out of time. I’m running out of time.”

Other than the wind, the room was quiet. He hoped she would say something, but she didn’t.

He finally gave up. “Well, good night, I guess.”

He was leaning down, about to kiss her on the forehead, when she said, “I wanted to see the ocean.”

He straightened. He thought she might be talking in her sleep, though she had never done this before.

“That’s why I went there, to Maine.” Her voice was just above a whisper. “I wanted to see the ocean. He wasn’t there. I wanted to see everything that Bill talked about. He said it was beautiful and he was right, it was. I just wanted to see it and be alone for a while.”

Charlie sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you awake?”

“He was a friend. A nice guy. I know you think I had an affair, but you’re wrong. He might have wanted to have one, I don’t know. But I’m not going to do that. And I’m not going back to Maine again. I know you think I am.” Her eyes opened.

“Are you really awake?” He needed to confirm this before he allowed himself to feel any relief.

“What do you think?” she said.

“What’s my name?”

“What?”

“If you’re awake, what’s my name?”

“Idiot,” she said.

He relaxed. “Close enough.”

They were quiet. The wind blew and when the windows rattled again, Donna said, “I know I’m not blameless in all this. I know I could have made more of an effort, tried to fit into your life. You asked me on trips, and I said no. You asked me a lot. Like I said, I guess I was scared or something. I didn’t want things to change. I wanted everything to be the way it always was. But you have to change sometimes. I could have tried too, I guess.”

“It’s not your fault. None of this is.”

Donna sniffled and Charlie took her hand. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said.

Charlie just nodded.

“So it looks like you were wrong about me,” she said.

“I’m glad I was wrong.”

“And you were wrong about something else.”

“What?”

“You said you were running out of time.”

“I am.”

She sat up, and when she did he could see she was about to cry. She blinked furiously and fought to control her voice. “No, you’re not,” she whispered. “You still have time, Charlie.” She reached for him. “You still have lots of time. We both do.”

A few days later, Karen walked into the coffee room carrying a box of doughnuts. The box was huge and had grease stains spreading on the bottom.

“Oh, no,” Ned whispered.

“I got a job,” she announced. Ned and Charlie were the only ones in the room and they watched as she placed the box on the counter and triumphantly raised her arms over her head like a triathlete crossing the finishing line.

“Where?” Ned asked.

She dropped her arms. “Honda.”

“Honda?” Ned asked. “You mean with Tom?”

Karen’s cheeks flushed and she kept her eyes on the doughnut box. “Yep. He offered it to me over the phone last night.”

“With Tom?” Ned repeated.

“Yep. In Torrance, California.”

“I knew you were talking to him, but…” Ned didn’t finish.

Karen avoided his eyes. She busied herself with opening the box, struggling with a thin white string that bound it. “Yeah, things moved pretty fast, I guess.”

“Very fast, I would say,” Ned said.

She finally undid the string and carefully opened the box. “I went to that bakery you like. The one we went to that time on Fullerton. You said they had the best éclairs.”

Ned smiled, but his eyes were sad with the memory. “Yes, I like that bakery.” He glanced over at Charlie. “We went there, you know, Karen and I,” he explained.

Charlie smiled. He was beginning to feel like he was intruding.

“Here,” Karen said. She handed Charlie a vanilla éclair and a small pink and yellow napkin.

“So this is official?” Charlie pretended to examine the éclair.

“Yep.”

“Congratulations, then. And good luck.”

“And when do you leave?” Ned asked.

Karen went back to the box and began rearranging the éclairs. “They want me there Monday.”

“Monday? You mean,
this
Monday? So soon?” Ned asked.

“I have to go on a trip to Asia with Tom the week after that. We’re touring some new parts plants. He wants me along with him.” She said all this while studying the éclairs.

“Asia,” Ned said. “With Tom.” He no longer even attempted to smile.

“Here.” She handed Ned an éclair. “It’s butterscotch. I remembered you liked them.”

Ned quietly accepted the éclair. “Karen, I’d like a moment with you if I could.”

Karen ignored him. “Hey, is Bradley around?”

“Karen?” Ned asked again.

Karen picked up the box of doughnuts. “I want to tell him,” she said. “I want to tell him myself, before he hears it from someone else.”

“I think he’s in the back, by the cubes,” Charlie said. “I saw him back there earlier.”

She smiled at Charlie a little desperately. He gave her a weak smile back and bit into his éclair. “This is good.”

Karen started for the hall, but stopped and walked back toward Ned. Charlie thought she was going to say something, but she didn’t. Instead, she kissed Ned once on the cheek, before hurrying out of the room, the sound of her high heels clicking in her wake.

After she was gone, Ned said, “That’s interesting news, isn’t it?”

Charlie patted him once on the shoulder and threw his éclair in the garbage.

He spent the rest of the day sequestered in an office back by the copy room, trying to read up on Xanon. His mind kept wandering, though, back to Karen and Tamales. Her decision to go work for that creep bothered him to no end, but it was none of his business. She was a grown woman, knew the risks. Still, he was disappointed in her decision. What people will do for a job, he thought.

He shook his head and started in on an article on swine breeding.

Around lunchtime, he avoided a brown-bag seminar on dressing for success, and slipped down to the deli to pick up a cup of low-fat chicken noodle soup. When he returned to his office, the phone on his desk was ringing.

He pried off the cover of his soup, then answered. It was, as he expected, Ned asking if he was coming to the seminar. They were waiting for him.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’m in the middle of something.”

“We have a very interesting discussion planned.”

“Sorry.”

Ned asked, “Are you in for a while?” His voice was now low, hushed. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“I’m here.”

Charlie hung up. Almost immediately the phone rang again. He counted the rings, then, assuming it was Ned again—one else called him on the office phone—answered on the fifth one.

“Yes?”

“You there?”

“What? Who is this?”

An unfamiliar voice responded. “This is Kevin F. Woods.”

This took a moment to register. Charlie stared down at the receiver in disbelief, John Wayne’s head, wearing a Stetson, rising before his eyes. Finally he thought to say, “Why, hello, there.”

“Is this Baker? Charlie Baker?”

“This is me. He.” Charlie’s mind started to race. “I’m sorry, there’s been some problems with our phones.”

There was a terrible pause. Finally, Kevin F. Woods said, “Just wanted to set up a time when we could meet.” His voice was loud and to the point. Charlie thought he might be in an airport. There was some commotion in the background.

Charlie spoke louder himself. “Yes, of course. Yes. That would be terrific. I was waiting to hear from your human resources department on that.”

“If I waited for them, it would never get done. Let’s do next Tuesday in New York. I have to give a talk there. We can meet in the morning before my talk. Does that work?”

“Absolutely. That works fine. Where?”

“I’m not sure where it is. Someone will be in touch with you. All right? Let’s meet in the health club, though. Let’s make it early. All right? Seven. No, six. Make it six. I got a meeting at seven-thirty, I think.”

“Yes, fine. I’ll call Ted. Ted Greene from your HR department for the details.”

“Don’t call him. Call someone else.” Kevin F. sounded put off by this suggestion.

“Okay. I’ll call someone else.”

“Good. Hey, I saw some of those commercials. They were pretty good.”

“Thank you.”

“Liked the one with that lady and the bank teller and that kid. That one was pretty good. Solid. That kid was great.”

Charlie had no idea what he was talking about.

“Yes, thank you,” he said.

There was a silence.

“Hello?” Charlie asked.

“I’m going through security at O’Hare. Taking off my shoes. I’ll call you right back.” The line went dead.

Charlie hung up, not sure what to make of all that. He considered calling the Wizard, to let him know about the meeting, but decided instead to wait for Woods to call back. He stood up and did ten jumping jacks. He sat back down and took a sip of his soup. Then he folded his arms across his chest and watched the phone.

He was still sitting there twenty minutes later when Ned walked in. He was wearing a loud electric-blue blazer with wide, pointy lapels. A puffy white handkerchief was blooming from his breast pocket. He looked like a comic-book gangster, or an evil character in a Batman movie.

“Are you in the middle of something?” he asked.

“Waiting for a call.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“I’m waiting for a call.”

Ned sat down and gave Charlie a meaningful look.

Charlie finally asked, “What are you wearing?”

“Oh, this.” Ned tugged on his lapels. “It was Jason’s idea. How
not
to dress in an interview. Jason thought it would be funny. To be honest, I’m getting a bit tired of being his prank monkey.” He crossed his legs and continued to stare at Charlie, a thin, rueful smile spreading across his face. “So strange,” he said.

“What, your jacket?”

Ned recrossed his legs. His black socks were too short and a patch of hairy white leg emerged. “Karen leaving. So strange.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s going to regret her decision.”

Ned’s delicate smile vanished. “I said that to her a week ago, when she first told me they were talking. I warned her, but she took the job anyway.”

“Maybe I should talk to her.”

“Don’t bother. Her mind is made up. Very made up.”

“That’s a shame, then.”

“I’m in love with her, you know.”

Charlie picked up the receiver, checked for a dial tone. “Are our phones okay?”

“I said, I’m in love with her.”

“What? With who? You mean Karen?” He hung up the phone.

“Yes.”

“You’re not in love with her.”

“I am.”

“You just think you’re in love with her.”

“What’s the difference?”

“She’s not for you.”

“Now, why would you say something like that?”

“Because she took that job. I’m sorry, but that says a lot about the kind of person she might be. To go into a situation like that, that’s just stupidity, pure and simple.” Charlie picked up the phone one more time, heard the dial tone, then hung up.

“She thinks she can handle him,” Ned said. “She wants a job. She needs a job. I guess I can’t blame her for that. She knows what she’s getting into.”

“That just makes it worse, if you ask me.” Charlie sighed and pushed the phone away. It was apparent that Kevin F. Woods wasn’t calling him right back. “Does she know how you feel about her?”

“I’m fairly confident she does, yes.”

“Why do you say that? How do you know?”

Ned cleared this throat. “I sent her an e-mail last night. Late last night.”

“An e-mail? About what?”

“Oh, nothing, really. I merely informed her that I am in love with her and would like to marry her.”

Charlie paused. “You. Did. Not.”

“I’m sorry to say that I did. I regret doing that now. I had been drinking wine. I don’t drink much and I don’t think I shall again for a while.”

“Did she respond?”

“Oh, yes. She’s moving to Torrance, California.”

He studied Ned’s pale face and urgent, sad eyes. He was a cloying middle manager, the exact type of person Charlie had built a career, if not a life, around avoiding. And at that moment, he realized that the beaten man sitting across the desk from him, looking for all the world like an ad for an asthma medication, had somehow become a friend.

“Hey, listen.” Charlie searched for something inspirational to say. His eyes fell upon a poster on the wall of an elderly, gray-haired man rock-climbing. “Defeat never comes to any man until he admits it,” he said.

“Please don’t quote our posters to me. Please don’t do that. I hate those posters. They’re all of old people. Jason bought them from the AARP when they relocated out of this building. He is so cheap.”

Charlie looked around the room for another prop. He picked up the phone receiver. “Come on, call her. Come on.”

“Oh, no.” Ned shook his head. “It’s too late, she’s gone. She already left. I said good-bye to her at the elevator. She said she didn’t want to have an emotional scene with everyone. She’s probably on a plane now, jetting toward a new life. She’s going house-hunting. We’re just a memory now. I’m just a memory. And probably an unpleasant one.”

Charlie put the receiver back. “She’s gone? Already? I didn’t even get a chance to say good-bye.”

Ned nodded. “You liked her too, Charlie, I can tell.”

“Sure I liked her. She was like a ray of sunshine in this place.”

“Sunshine, yes. Very good. Yes. That’s exactly what she was. Sunshine.”

They both were quiet. Overhead, air from the vents rushed into the room.

“And how are things with your wife?” Ned asked.

“Oh. Actually, I’m starting to think things are going to be okay. We cleared some things up, had a good talk. We have some things to work on, though, but I think we’re going to be okay. At least, I hope so.”

“That’s wonderful news. It really is,” Ned said. “You have a wife, a child, a family. I, on the other hand, have nothing. Tonight I’ll go home and fix myself a can of soup and maybe indulge myself with a stale piece of cheese, then stare at my comic books.
Spider-Man
,
Superman, Batman.
Someone should write a comic book about me—
Pathetic Man, The Adventures Of.
” He closed his eyes. “I’ve wasted my life. My entire life. Not just part of it, all of it. I have no one to love. I have nothing.”

Charlie wracked his brain for something to say that could cheer Ned up, bring him around. “Hey,” he finally said, pointing. “You love your job.”

“My job, yes,” Ned said. He stood. “But I think it would be nice to love something that can love you back. Don’t you?”