by Jon McDonald
◘ ◘ ◘
David was to address the board in ten minutes. Another quick trip to the wash room for a little “pick-me-up” was called for. It would give him the boost he needed to sparkle and shine. He was always under great pressure as the bank’s rising young star. He had single handedly created a thriving trading division in an otherwise very staid and traditional commercial bank - old money, old members, old thinking. But with the infusion of David’s new ideas, and unlimited enthusiasm, the bank had exploded with success and profit. But there had been some growing resistance on the board to this rapid expansion, and there were worries that things were going too fast. Thus today’s meeting - with David to explain exactly why there were no inherent risks.
Charles Dudley, the bank’s chairman, welcomed David as he came into the board room. The board had been in session on other business for the past hour.
“Gentlemen,” Charles addressed the board, “as I am sure you are aware this is David Greene, the head of our Trading Division. And you all know what he has done for our bottom line.”
Some of the board members smiled and nodded, and a few did not.
“David,” Charles continued, “several of our members have been a little skeptical about your division’s success. Would you care to address their concerns?”
“Gentlemen, happy to answer any of your questions,” David stood at the head of the table and confidently awaited their queries.
One of the board members addressed David. “Call me old fashioned, but I’ve been studying the staggering amount of our depositor’s funds that we’ve been throwing at the market, and my question for you is what happens if this market suddenly corrects itself? We have all that cash out there in great jeopardy. What protection does the bank have if that happens?”
David smiled, amused at the naiveté of the old fossil. “Well sir, I don’t mean to be insensitive to your concern, but let me assure you that this market is strong and robust, and promises to continue so.”
Another member spoke up. “But we’ve got this Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act on the floor of the Senate, and it’s got a lot of folks worried. I’ve seen the market wobble the last few days over this.”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen….of course there will be fluctuations in the market from day to day. That is to be expected. But let me assure you they are of absolutely no consequence. And as to putting our depositor’s funds at risk I would ask you to look at any bank in the city. Every single one of them is out there using the same strategy, and with great success. Do you want to be behind our competitors? Can we afford to do that?” David taped his nose. “And believe me, this nose knows exact when to act. If there is ever any danger I promise you I shall withdraw all our funds from the market in an instant. You have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
“Sounds good to me,” Charles spoke up. “I certainly hope that puts all of your minds to rest.” It was more of a statement than a question. No one spoke up, though several of the members still looked uneasy. “Well then, I believe that will be all for today, meeting adjourned.”
Charles turned to David. “Good answers. I’m afraid some of our members are a bit behind the times. But not to worry, I’m sure you put their minds at ease.”
David pulled Charles aside. “Sir, I was wondering…. I’ve ah….got a little problem.”
“What’s that, my boy?”
“I’m a little short, if you know what I mean. Spent last weekend in Saratoga and my horses all came in a bit lame.”
Charles laughed and slapped David on the back. “So your nose doesn’t work on the horses the way it does on the market, eh? Well, never mind. I can assure you there will be a nice fat bonus for you at the end of the year. You’ve certainly earned it. You can buy yourself a nice yacht. You see, what the financial world needs is more visionary men like you.” He laughed and walked away.
David called after, “But I was wondering if you could spot me say, ten thousand now? My bookie….” But Charles had disappeared.
David took another quick trip to the wash room. When he returned to his office he tried calling his grandmother, though he knew asking her for that kind of money was very risky. But he was desperate. Mr. Kramer was known to fracture a few knee caps over uncollected debts. She was not in, and not expected back until very late that evening.
David paced his office. It was already one-thirty. He picked up the phone and called operations. “Miss. Landry, I need to transfer ten thousand from the trading account to the Greene account.”
“To your personal account, sir? Again?” Miss Landry asked with some surprise and undisguised disapproval.
“Yes, Miss Landry, do you have a problem with that?”
She hesitated a moment, “No sir, not if you authorize it.”
“I do.”
“I will need a signature.”
“I’ll send it right down. And you may expedite the transfer now, please.” David hung up. He glanced at his watch. He completed the paperwork for his transfer and sent it with his secretary to operations. He took his check book and wrote out a check. He turned out the lights in his office and left the bank after cashing the ten thousand dollar check in the lobby.
◘ ◘ ◘
David was going to be late for work, as usual, on this cool but pleasant October morning. It was nine-forty, and the traffic was abnormally congested for this time on a Thursday morning. He finally stopped the taxi and decided to walk the rest of the way to work. As he neared the stock exchange he was surprised to see literally hundreds of people milling around outside. All of them were highly animated and seemed to be in some distress. As he neared the exchange he saw Culpepper, one of his traders, and went up to him.
“What’s going on?”
“You don’t know? Where have you been?”
“Running a bit late is all.”
“The market is tanking. It’s already lost ten percent of its value and it’s still falling.”
David lit out in a fast run. He tore into the bank. The lobby was besieged with depositors clamoring to close their accounts. He rushed to his office. The noise level was deafening. It could only be described as sheer panic. As he charged towards his office he saw Freddy who flashed a wicked smile and nodded.
Charles saw David and rushed over, taking David by the arm.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
“I had no idea….”
“We’ve lost thirty-five percent of our assets and the market hasn’t even bottomed out yet. Who knows how far this is going to go. Get out there and save what you can.”
David’s phone was ringing as he neared his office. His secretary rose from her desk shaking two handfuls of messages. He grabbed them and retreated to his office. He closed the door, deadening some of the clamor. He sat down, threw the messages on the desk, and leaned forward, resting his head on his clasped hands.
◘ ◘ ◘
What the World Needs Now
David sat with his attorney, Morgan Fairweather, an old school chum hired by his Grandmother to negotiate with the court on David’s behalf. They were seated in the drawing room at her New York City house on 5th Avenue, overlooking Central Park. A small fire flickered from the bed of coals in the marble fireplace. A decanter of sherry sat on the table before the fire next to two filled glasses.
Morgan shook his head. “It’s just remarkable what your grandmother’s money can do. At least what she has left. Do you know what the judge said to me?”
“No, idea, old man. But I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” David replied, anxious to get this meeting over with.
“Judge Biedermeir said quite candidly that what the world needs now is to see reckless young rascals like yourself cast into prison, with the cells securely locked, and with the keys forever thrown away.”
“Charming.”
“David, what were you thinking? You diverted over $75,000 from your client’s accounts to your own person account over the span of just six months.”
“That much
? Really?” David took a sip of his sherry.
“Not to mention the scandalous disregard for the bank’s depositors as your trading department so cavalierly squandered their money. If it hadn’t been for your father and Grandmother repaying that money you took for yourself….” Morgan was trying very hard not to explode with indignation.
“Very kind of them, I’m sure. But after all, the family name….”
“Yes, the family name….”
“I’m so glad Grandmamma was able to give you a leg up,” David smiled.
Morgan did not understand and shook his head.
“Giving an old Harvard classmate a break with this case. She could have hired a much more seasoned attorney. Mr. Skillcrest, for example - an old family friend. But instead she picked you. Very jolly.”
Morgan nodded.
Both men were silent for a moment. David was certainly ready to conclude this meeting. “So, no further consequence on this nasty matter? We’re all done?”
Morgan continued his silence for a moment. “We are done.”
“Excellent. Was thinking of taking a little break. Planning to take a few chaps on the yacht and sail down to the Caribbean for a month or two. Mums has a pleasant little cottage on the shore of St. Kitts. Might stop over for a nice lull. Care to join us?”
Morgan, shifted in his chair. “I think you’ll find she no longer has the St. Kitts property, David. It went when the family needed to raise the cash to pay back your embezzled funds.”
“Really? Well, I’m sure we’ll find some place nice. I believe Sookie’s family has a charming little hotel on Antigua.”
“David, you seem not to realize - the yacht was sold too.”
David thought about that. “Really? Bummer.”
Fly Boys
Wearing its coat of ice
The shriveled apple enfolds the sleeping seed,
Dreaming of moist warm earth.
Haruki repeatedly struck at the ice on the pond with a large bone. The geese waddled down to the bank’s edge from their shelter, grateful for the opportunity to drink, swim and preen in open water, dressed by the falling snow. Haruki gazed out across the ice-locked pond to the charcoal stenciled trees on the opposite bank. He watched a solitary child in a red parka mournfully kicking a yellow ball in circles - no companion to play with. Haruki shook the last of the cracked corn from the paper bag, and a few of the geese glided out of the pond to peck at the latest offering.
Walking back to the house Haruki felt the cold in his arthritic joints. He leaned heavily on his cane. He paused half way back, even though it was but a short distance. He could see his wife, Kazuko, kneeling at the altar arranging a few branches of spring peach blossoms, imported from the south, an echo of what was soon to come. He envied that she could kneel like that, as it was such a great effort for him to kneel or rise from the floor when he rolled out his sleeping mat before bedtime.
At eighty-five years old he had few joys left but memories. Not that he was angry or bitter. He had had a good life. But he and his wife had no children, and that had left her, if not bitter, then at least sad and disappointed. Fortunately she had some grand-nieces and nephews who continued to care for her; and living close by they would visit frequently with gifts, attention, and invitations to family holiday festivals.
Haruki slid back the door and came into the house. He removed his scarf and was about to hang it on a peg on the wall.
“Could you please bring in some more charcoal before you take off your coat? - if it’s not a great inconvenience to you,” Kazuko asked in the baby-doll voice that infuriated Haruki with its subservience. She rose from the altar, and went over to the fire pit in the center of the room, and poked at the coals under the lightly simmering teakettle suspended by a hook over the fire. “I’ll have some nice hot tea for you when you come back in,” she added.
Without answering Haruki, once more put on his scarf and went outside to the charcoal bin at the end of the porch and filled up the bucket with the bamboo scoop.
Haruki and Arashi both reached for the bamboo cup at the same time. It floated on top of the basin of cool water used for drinking - just outside the Air Force barracks. Their hands touched and an electric shock raced up Haruki’s arm. He looked up, confused and cautious. He was greeted with a sly smile from another young pilot, a good few inches taller than he was and slender. His face was etched like a fine Samurai sword – lean and chiseled – like tempered steel. But his eyes smiled softly and playfully like the sun dancing on the surface of the drinking water. Haruki felt blossoms gently opening in the pit of his stomach.
Haruki lugged the full bucket of charcoal back into the house and over to the fire pit. Kazuko smiled, nodded three times sharply, uttered a breathy “thank you,” and begin placing pieces of charcoal on the coals with tongs.
Haruki went back over to the pegs in the wall, took off his scarf again and hung his coat next to the peg with the solitary white silk scarf. Haruki’s eyes lingered on the scarf for a long moment, and when he looked over to his wife she quickly glanced away, embarrassed to be seen staring at her husband, knowing what that scarf meant to him.
“Your tea is ready now,” she almost whispered.
Haruki took the cup from her without a word, and shuffled to his room, sliding the door softly behind him, settling in at his desk, and staring out the window at the still falling, early spring snow on this very gray afternoon. A single flash of sunlight suddenly shot through the clouds and blazed upon the red figure playing across the pond.
◘ ◘ ◘
Looking up, the swallow’s wing
Slashes across the face of the sun.
What a sweet blink!
Haruki rested on his hoe and watched the robins weaving their nest at the top of the apricot tree now in full bloom. He always enjoyed preparing the garden for planting. It was still too early to put out the tomato or eggplant starts, but he felt good preparing the ground for an early May planting. Kazuko opened a packet of mizuna seeds, a cold resistant green she could plant early in the season. She created a furrow in the row and began tapping the seeds into the soil before covering them up with loose soil and watering.
Having finished the last row, Haruki, put the hoe away in the shed and took out the rake. He glanced out over the pond as a flight of wild ducks skimmed over the surface before landing by the rushes at the far end. The sun caught the iridescent feathers of a male mallard as he landed, creating a dance of color in the cattails. Haruki began raking the last of the leaves under the wisteria that hung over the porch, just now putting out its first tender leaves.
Kazuko took off her work gloves and placed them on the bench by the door before going inside to prepare lunch. They retained the form of her hands as they lay there, looking like they were about to strangle the bottle of fish emulsion fertilizer.
“Here, I think you dropped this,” Arashi said, tapping Haruki on the shoulder. Haruki turned around and accepted the glove that Arashi had picked up.
For a reason he couldn’t understand Haruki blushed and could only stammer out a faint “Thank you.” He paused before asking, “Have you been following me?”
“Maybe.” Arashi grinned broadly and put his hand on Haruki’s shoulder. “Sake?” he offered, pointing down a narrow side street. Haruki nodded.
“A man of few words, I like that. I, myself, talk far too much. You will get to know that about me.” Arashi laughed, taking Haruki by the arm and leading him down the street to an almost hidden bar, chatting about the upcoming air drills.
Haruki wondered why Arashi would take him to such a shabby out of the way establishment. It was dark inside and there was not even a sign outside that announced that this was a sake bar. But as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could see that the clientele were all young men. Haruki stopped short with a slight twinge of panic, and a resurgence of old hidden fears. He turned to leave but Arashi entreated softly, “Please don’t go.”
“But…” Haruki couldn’t quite
find the words.
“It’s alright. Never been to a place like this before?”
“I think perhaps you misunderstand…” Haruki tried to explain.
“I don’t think so,” Arashi whispered in Haruki’s ear. “It’s just unfamiliar. But if you let me lead you, I’m sure I can make you feel very much at home.”
Haruki watched a boisterous, silly game-show on the television as Kazuko squinted by the light of her lamp patching the edges of a worn comforter. Haruki turned off the television with the remote in his lap and sat in silence for a moment. The wind outside was picking up, knocking a branch against Kazuko’s bedroom window.
“I promise I’ll get to that branch tomorrow,” Haruki offered. “I keep forgetting about it except when it’s windy.”
Neither spoke for a moment, then Kazuko put her sewing things aside in a lacquer box and turned off the light. She folded the comforter and headed towards the bedrooms. “I’ll put this in your room. Sleep well.” She disappeared down the hallway towards his bedroom. She left the comforter for him, and quietly retreated to her own room and slid shut the door. The house was now in darkness except for a faint light coming from the open door of Haruki’s room, and the light of the half-moon spilling through the windows overlooking the pond. Haruki continued to sit in his chair lost in the silence of the house. The wind moaned and whistled gently through the windows. The faint glow of charcoal embers pulsed in the fire pit. Part of the fire collapsed and the coals flared up into a single flame for just a brief moment, and then subsided back into the last glow of the dying fire.
◘ ◘ ◘
The tardy summer shower
Dances on the parched earth.
Tickling the gasping grasses.
The horses danced out from the Takizawa Soozen Jinja shrine. Changu changu - rang the horse’s bells. One hundred costumed horse dancers began their parade to the Hachimangu shrine 15 kilometers away. The Changu-Changu Umakko festival was just getting underway on this hot June Saturday - a celebration of the end of the planting season and a prayer for a bountiful harvest to come.
