The Gift (13 page)

She nodded quickly.

“Great.” He clapped his hands and hopped off the desk. “Now I’d better get to this meeting.”

“Here.” She handed him his files. “And congratulations on those two deals yesterday; everyone is talking about them.”

“They are?”

“Yes,” she said, wide-eyed. “Some people are saying you’ll get Cliff’s job.”

That was like music to Lou’s ears, but he played it down. “Now, Alison, let’s not jump the gun. We’re all wishing a speedy recovery for Cliff.”

“Of course we are, but…anyway”—she smiled—“we can talk more at the party tomorrow?”

“Of course we will.” He smiled back, and it was only as she threw him a loaded look that he really understood what she had meant. He hated himself for the flutter of excitement that rushed through him.

“Morning,” Gabe suddenly interrupted them, placing a package on the desk.

Lou jumped.

Gabe looked at him, amused.

“Gabe, can I have a word with you, please?” Lou said, once he’d gathered himself.

They walked into his office and closed the door behind them. “Can I have those…the container back, please. I was very tired and emotional this morning, and I don’t know what got into me. Of
course
I believe in the herbal-remedy thingies.”

Gabe didn’t respond. He continued laying out envelopes and packages on Lou’s desk while Lou looked on with hope on his face.

Lou tried again. “I heard this morning that Cliff’s not coming back.” He kept his voice down and tried to hide his excitement. “He’s totally fried.”

“Ah, the poor man who had the breakdown,” Gabe said, still flipping through the mail.

“Yes,” Lou almost squealed with excitement. “Don’t tell anyone I told you.”

“That Cliff’s not coming back?”

“Yes, that and…you know”—he looked around—“other things. Maybe a promotion. A nice big pay raise.” He grinned, then got serious. “Problem is, Mr. Patterson wants to talk to me tomorrow at the party, and it just so happens to be my dad’s birthday.”

“Ah, this is the need for the pills. Well, you can’t have them.”

At that, Gabe left Lou’s office and immediately continued pushing the cart down the hall. Lou quickly followed, yapping at his heels like a Jack Russell after a postman.

“Ah, come on, I’ll pay you whatever you want for them. How much?”

“I don’t want anything.”

“Okay, then you probably want to keep them for yourself, I get it. At least tell me where I can get more?”

“You can’t get them anywhere. I threw them away. You were right about them; they’re not right. Psychologically. And who knows about the physical side effects? Maybe they were a scientific experiment that found their way out of a lab. Besides, they served their purpose: you learned something very valuable from the experience, and that’s that you want to spend more time at home. Shouldn’t you just take that and be done with it?”

“What did you do to them?” Lou panicked, ignoring everything that Gabe had just said. “Where did you put them?”

“In the trash.”

“Well, get them for me. Go and get them back,” Lou said angrily. “Come on, hurry, Gabe.” He prodded Gabe in the back.

“They’re gone, Lou. I opened the container and emptied the pills into the trash bins outside, and considering what you deposited inside it last night, I’d steer clear.”

Lou grabbed him by the arm and led him to the elevators. “Show me.”

O
NCE OUTSIDE
, G
ABE POINTED THE
yellow bin out to Lou, large and filthy. Lou charged over. Looking inside, he could see the container sitting on top, so close he could touch it. Beside it, the pile of pills lay among a greenish-brown ooze of some sort. The smell was dire; he held his nose and tried not to retch. The pills were embedded in whatever that substance was, and his heart sank. He took off his suit jacket and threw it at Gabe to catch. He rolled up his shirtsleeves and prepared to shove his hands in the foul-smelling ooze. He paused before going in.

“If I can’t get these pills, where can I get more?” he asked again.

“Nowhere,” Gabe responded, standing by the build
ing’s back door and watching him, his arms folded. “They don’t make them anymore.”

“What?” Lou spun around. “Well, who made them? I’ll pay them to make more. Shit. Maybe I can wash these.” He stepped closer and leaned in. The smell made him retch. “What the hell
is
that?” He gagged again and had to step away from the bin. “Damn it.” Lou kicked the bin and then regretted it when the pain hit.

“Oh, look,” Gabe said in a bored tone. “It looks like I dropped one on the ground.”

“What? Where?” Lou instantly forgot the pain in his toe and raced back to the bin. He examined the ground around it. Between the cracks of the cobbles he saw something white peering up at him. Leaning closer, he noticed it was a pill.

“Aha! Found one!”

“Yeah, I had to throw them away from a distance, the smell was so bad,” Gabe explained. “A few fell on the ground.”

“A few? How many?”

Lou got down on his hands and knees and started searching.

“I thought you only needed one. Lou, you really should just go back inside. You’ve had a good day Why don’t you just leave it at that? Learn from it and move on?”

“I
have
learned from it,” Lou said, nose close to the cobbles. “I’ve learned that I’m the hero around here with these things. Aha! There’s another one.” Satisfied
that those two were all he could salvage, he put them in his handkerchief and slipped them into his pocket, then stood up and wiped his knees.

“Two will do for now,” he said, wiping his forehead. “I can see two more under the Dumpster, but I’ll leave them for the time being.”

When Lou turned around, his knees dirty and his hair disheveled, he found he had more company. Alfred was standing beside Gabe, his arms folded, a smug look on his face.

“Drop something, Lou?”

W
HEN
L
OU ENTERED THE BOARDROOM
, a little delayed after washing up in the bathroom, all twelve colleagues around the table stood to applaud him, their big, white-toothed smiles beaming from ear to ear, but not quite meeting their tired morning eyes. This was what everybody he knew was faced with. Not enough hours of sleep and the inability to get away from work or work-related devices like laptops, BlackBerrys, and cell phones: distractions that each of their family members wanted to flush down the toilet. Of course they were all happy for him, in a frazzled kind of way. They were all functioning to stay alive, to pay the mortgages, to do the presentations, to meet the quotas, to please the boss, to get in early enough to beat the traffic, to hang around long enough in the evenings until it had gone. Everyone in that room was putting in all the hours under the
sun trying to unload their work before Christmas, and as they all did that, the pile of personal problems in their in-boxes only grew higher. That would all be dealt with over Christmas break. Finally, time for festive family issues that had been sidelined all year. ’Twas the season for family folly.

The applause was led by a beaming Mr. Patterson, and everyone joined in but Alfred, who was exceptionally slow to stand. While the others were on their feet, he was slowly pushing his chair back. When the others were clapping, he was adjusting his tie and fastening his gold buttons. He succeeded in clapping just once before the applause died down, a single clap that sounded more like a burst balloon.

Lou worked his way around the table, shaking hands, slapping backs, kissing cheeks. By the time he reached Alfred, his friend had already seated himself, though he offered Lou a limp, clammy hand.

“Ah, the man of the moment,” Mr. Patterson said happily, taking Lou’s hand warmly and placing his left hand firmly on Lou’s upper arm. He stood back and looked at Lou proudly, as a grandfather would his grandson on Communion Day, beaming with pride and admiration.

Feeling like he was floating, Lou sat down and found it hard to keep up with the rest of the morning’s discussion. From the corner of his eye, Lou could see Alfred staring at him, the shark beginning to circle again.

“You look tired, Lou, were you out celebrating last night?” a colleague asked.

“I was up all night with my little girl. Vomiting bug. My wife had it, too, so it was a busy night.” He smiled, thinking of Lucy tucked in bed, her thick hair hiding half her face.

Alfred laughed, and his wheeze was loud. “You used that excuse just yesterday, Lou.”

So he had. A few people laughed.

The aggression was emanating from Alfred in waves. It seeped from his soul, distorting the air around him, and Lou wondered if everybody could see it. Lou felt for him oddly; he could see how lost and fearful Alfred was.

“It’s not just me you should be congratulating,” Lou announced to the table. “Alfred was in on the New York deal, too. And a fine job he did.”

“Absolutely.” Alfred brightened up, coming back to the room and fidgeting with his tie. “It was nice of Lou to finally join me at the end, just in time to see me wrap it all up.”

Everyone around the table laughed at the joke, but it hit Lou hard.

“Yes, we have already commended Alfred,” Mr. Patterson said. “But two deals at once, Lou, how on earth did you manage it? We all know you’re a multitasker at the best of times, but what an extraordinary use of time management and, of course, your negotiating skills.”

“Yes, extraordinary,” Alfred agreed. His tone was playful, but underneath it there was venom. “Almost unbelievable. Perhaps unnatural. What was it, Lou, a magic little pill? Speed?”

There were a few nervous laughs, a cough, and then a silence. Mr. Patterson broke the tension by getting the meeting started, but the damage had already been done. Alfred had left something hanging in the air. A question replaced what had previously been pure admiration; a seed had been planted in each mind. Whether the others believed Alfred or not, each time Lou achieved anything in the future, Alfred’s comment would be momentarily, perhaps subconsciously, entertained, and that seed would grow, peep up from dirty soil, and rear its ugly head.

After all his hard work, missing out on important family events, always running out of his home to get to the office, quick pecks on Ruth’s cheek for the sake of long handshakes with strangers, he had finally had his moment. Two minutes of handshakes and applause. Followed by a seed of doubt. Had it all been worth it?

Y
OU’LL BE THERE, WON’T YOU
, Lou?” Ruth asked, trying her best to hide the worry in her voice. She moved around their bedroom in her bare feet, the sound of her skin against the wooden floors like feet splashing in water. Her long brown hair was up in rollers, her body was draped in a towel, and beads of water from her shower glistened on her shoulders.

From their bed, Lou watched his wife of ten years get ready for the evening. They were going into the city center in separate cars at separate times; he had to stop in at his office party before joining the rest of his family at his father’s party. Lou hadn’t been home long from work; he had showered and dressed in the space of twenty minutes. But instead of pacing downstairs as he normally did, waiting for his wife impatiently, he had chosen to lie on the bed and watch her. He was just learning tonight that staying up here and watching was so much more entertaining than pacing downstairs in anger. Lucy had joined him on their bed only moments
ago and was cuddling her loyal blanket that followed her everywhere. Fresh out of the bath, she was dressed in her pajamas and smelled so freshly of strawberries that he almost wanted to eat her.

“Of course I’ll be there.” He smiled at Ruth.

“It’s just that you should have left the house a half hour ago, and that would have put you behind as it is.” She rushed by him and disappeared into the walk-in closet. The rest of her sentence disappeared along with her, muffling into the clothes neatly folded within. He lay back on the bed and rested his arms behind his head.

“She’s talking fast,” Lucy whispered.

“She does that.” Lou smiled, reached out, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his daughter’s ear.

Ruth reappeared dressed in her underwear.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“Daddy!” Lucy giggled outrageously. “She’s in her panties!”

“Yes, well, she looks beautiful in her panties.” He kept his eyes on Ruth while Lucy rolled around the bed, laughing at this idea.

Ruth studied him quickly. Lou could see her swallow, her face curious, not used to the sudden attention, perhaps worrying that he was acting this way out of guilt. A big part of her was afraid to become hopeful, afraid that it was yet another buildup to a later letdown. She disappeared into the bathroom for a few moments, and when she reentered the room she hopped around, still in her underwear.

Lucy and Lou started laughing while watching her.

“What are you doing?” Lou asked.

“I’m drying my lotion.” She ran in place, smiling. Lucy hopped up and joined her, giggling and dancing, before deciding her mother was dry and joining her father back on the bed.

“Why are you still here?” Ruth asked gently. “You don’t want to be late for Mr. Patterson.”

“This is far more fun.”

“Lou,” she laughed, “while I appreciate the fact that you are not constantly moving for the first time in ten years, you really have to go. I know you say you’ll be there tonight, but—”

“I will be there tonight,” he replied, starting to feel insulted.

“Okay, but please don’t be too late,” she continued, racing around the room. “Most people going to your dad’s party are over the age of seventy, and they might have fallen asleep or have gone home by the time you get there.” She darted back into the wardrobe.

“I’ll be there,” he replied, more to himself this time. He knew he had to be. And this time, he actually wanted to be.

He heard her rooting around in the drawers. She bumped into something, swore, dropped something else, and when she reappeared in the bedroom she was dressed in a black cocktail dress.

Usually Lou would automatically tell her she was beautiful, hardly even looking at her while saying it.
He felt that it was his duty, that it was what she wanted to hear, that it would get them out of the house faster, but tonight he found himself unable to speak. She was truly beautiful. It was as though all his life he had been told the sky was blue, and for the first time he had actually looked up to see it for himself. Why didn’t he look at it every day? He turned to lie on his stomach and lean his head on his hand. Lucy imitated him. They both watched the wonder that was Ruth. Ten years of this display and he’d been pacing downstairs the whole time.

“And remember,” she said, zipping up her dress at the back, “you got your father a cruise for his birthday.”

“I thought we were getting him a golf membership.”

“Lou, he hates golf.”

“He does?”

“Granddad hates golf,” Lucy confirmed with a knowing nod.

“He’s always wanted to go to Saint Lucia,” Ruth said. “Remember the story about Douglas and Ann and how they won the trip on the back of a cereal box, blah, blah, blah?”

“No.” Lou frowned.

“The cereal box competition.” She stopped on her way to the closet to stare at him in surprise.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“He tells this story all the time, Lou. About how Douglas entered the competition and they won a trip to
Saint Lucia…Anything?” She looked at him for a glimmer of recognition.

Lou shook his head.

“Wow, how could you not know that story?”

Ruth disappeared inside the closet one last time and reappeared with one shoe on her foot and the other under her arm. Up, down, up, down, she made her way across the room to her dressing table to put on her jewelry.

“Oh,” she said as she put on her earrings. “When you see Mary Walsh, don’t mention Patrick.” Half of her hair was still covered in rollers, the other half loose and curled. Her face was sad. “He left her.”

“Okay,” Lou nodded, trying to remain as solemn as possible.

When Ruth ducked into the bathroom again, Lou turned to Lucy. “Patrick left Mary Walsh,” he said. “Did you know that?”

Lucy shook her head wildly.

“Did you tell him to do that?”

She shook her head, giggling.

“Who knew that would happen?”

Lucy shrugged. “Maybe Mary did.”

Lou laughed. “Maybe.”

“Oh, and
please
don’t ask Laura if she’s lost weight,” Ruth called out. “You always do that, and she hates it.”

“Isn’t that a nice thing to say?” He frowned.

Ruth laughed. “Honey, she’s been putting on weight consistently for the past ten years. When you say that to her, it’s like you’re making fun.”

“Laura’s a fatty,” he whispered to Lucy, and she collapsed on the bed laughing.

He took a deep breath as he noticed the time. “Okay, I should go now. See you tomorrow,” he said to Lucy, kissing her on the head.

“I like you much better now, Daddy,” she said happily.

Lou froze, still half on the bed. “What did you say?”

“I said I like you much better now.” She smiled, revealing a missing bottom tooth. “Me, Mummy, and Bud are going ice-skating tomorrow. Will you come?”

Still taken aback by her comment, he simply said, “Yes. Sure.”

Ruth came back into the room again, bringing a wave of her perfume with her, her hair in loose waves down past her shoulders. Lou couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Mummy, Mummy!” Lucy jumped up on the bed and started bouncing up and down. “Daddy’s coming ice-skating tomorrow.”

“Lucy, get down, you’re not allowed to jump on the bed. Get down, sweetheart, thank you. Remember I told you that Daddy is a very busy man, he doesn’t have time to be—”

“I’m coming,” Lou interrupted firmly.

Ruth’s mouth fell open. “Oh.”

“Is that okay?”

“Yes, sure, I just…Yes. Absolutely. Great.” She nodded, then headed back into the bathroom. This time the door closed softly behind her.

He gave her a couple of minutes alone but then couldn’t afford to wait any longer.

“Ruth”—Lou rapped gently on the bathroom door—“you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” She cleared her throat and sounded overly perky. “I’m just…blowing my nose.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later,” he said, wanting to go inside and hug her good-bye, but knowing that the door would open if she wanted him to.

“Okay,” she said, a little less perky now. “See you at the party.”

The door remained closed, and so he left.

T
HE OFFICES OF
P
ATTERSON
D
EVELOPMENTS
were swarming with Lou Suffern’s colleagues in various states of disarray. It was only seven thirty p.m.—and already some were set for the night. Unlike Lou, who’d gone home after work, most people had gone straight to the pub and returned to the party to continue their revelry. There were women he barely recognized, in dresses that revealed bodies he’d never known existed beneath their suits; and there were some whose bodies were made only for their suits. The uniformity of the day had been broken down: there was an air of adolescence, of the desire to show off and prove to one another who they really were. It was a night for rule breaking, for saying what they felt; it was a dangerous environment to be in. Mistletoe hung from almost every doorway—in
fact, Lou had already received two kisses as soon as he’d stepped out of the elevator, from the opportunists hanging around there.

Suit jackets were off; novelty musical ties, Santa hats, and reindeer antlers were on. They all worked hard, and it was clear that tonight they were all going to play hard.

“Where’s Mr. Patterson?” Lou asked Alison, finding her sitting on the lap of the fifth Santa Claus he’d seen so far. Her eyes were glassy, the focus already gone. She was wearing a tight red dress that showed every curve of her body. He forced himself to look away.

“And what do you want for Christmas, little boy?” the voice beneath the costume bellowed.

“Oh, hi, James,” Lou said politely.

“He wants any promotion,” somebody in the crowd yelled, which was followed by a few titters.

“Not just a promotion, he wants Cliff’s job,” somebody with reindeer antlers shouted, and the crowd laughed again.

Smiling to hide his frustration and minor embarrassment, Lou laughed along with them; then when the conversation turned to something else, he quietly slipped away. He retreated to his office, which was quiet and still, with not a glimpse of tinsel or mistletoe in sight. He sat with his head in his hands, awaiting Mr. Patterson’s call to his office, listening to “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” being half sung and half shouted by the crowd outside. He shouldn’t be here,
he realized. He should be across the river Liffey at his father’s party.

He reached into his pocket and retrieved the pill he had wrapped in a handkerchief. He placed it on the table and poured a glass of water. He placed the glass beside the pill and stared at them both. Took a deep breath.

Suddenly the music got louder as the door to his office opened; then it quietened as the door closed. He knew who it was before he even looked up.

Alison walked toward him, a glass of red wine in one hand, a whiskey in the other, her hips swinging in her slinky red dress and looking like the dangly thing at the back of a throat. Her ankles wobbled in her platform heels, and the wine jumped up a few times from the glass to splash her thumb.

“Careful there.” Lou’s eyes followed her every move, his head staying put, both sure and uncertain at the same time.

“It’s okay.” She put her glass down on the table and sucked her thumb, licking the spilled wine from her skin while looking at Lou seductively. “I brought you a whiskey.” She handed it to him and sidled up beside him at the desk. “Cheers.” Picking up her glass again, she clinked his and then, her eyes not once moving from his, drank.

Lou cleared his throat, suddenly feeling crowded, and pushed his chair back. Alison misunderstood and slid her behind along the desk so that she was directly in front of him now. Her chest was in his sight line, and
he tore his eyes away, looking instead at the door. His position was dangerous. It looked very bad. But he felt extremely good.

“We never got to finish up what we were doing before.” She smiled. “Everybody’s talking about clearing their desks before Christmas.” Her voice was low and sultry. “Thought I’d come in and give you a hand.”

She pushed away a few files from his desk; they slid down onto the floor, scattering everywhere. The pill flew up and got lost among the files on the ground.

“Oops,” she said with a smile, sitting on the desk before him, her short red dress rising even farther up her thighs, revealing long, toned legs.

Beads of sweat broke out on Lou’s brow. His mind ran through every possibility. Go outside and search for Mr. Patterson or stay inside with Alison. He could take the pill lying somewhere on the ground and do both. No, remember his priorities: be with Alison and go to his dad’s party. No, be with Mr. Patterson and go to his dad’s party. Both at the same time.

Uncrossing her legs, Alison used her foot to pull his chair in closer to the desk, red lace between her thighs greeting him as he was wheeled slowly closer to her. She scooted forward to the edge of the desk, pushing her dress up even higher. So high there was nowhere else for him to look now. He could take a pill: be with Alison and be with Ruth.

Ruth.

Alison reached out and pulled him closer, her hands
now on his face. He felt the acrylic nails. The
tap-tap
sound against the keyboards that drove him insane every day. There they were, on his face, on his chest, running down his body. Long fingers on the fabric of his suit, the suit that was supposed to mirror his inner dignity.

“I’m married,” he sputtered as her hand reached his groin. His voice was panicked, sounding childlike.

Alison threw her head back and laughed. “I know,” she purred, and her hands continued roving.

“That wasn’t a joke,” he said firmly, and she stopped suddenly to look at him. He stared back at her solemnly, and they held each other’s gaze. Then the corner of Alison’s lips lifted in a smile, despite her attempts to prevent it. Then, when she couldn’t keep it in anymore, she exploded. Her long blond hair reached down to his desktop as she threw her head back to laugh once again.

“Oh, Lou,” she sighed, finally wiping the corners of her eyes.

“It’s not a joke,” he said, more firmly and with more dignity and confidence, he hoped. More of a man now than he was five minutes ago.