He sat down on the couch and put his feet up. Relief overwhelmed him. In a matter of six weeks, he had gone through a miraculous change of personality. He could be in prison. He could be dead. He owed much to Gary, and what had he done to deserve his help? Nothing.
Wolf reflected on all that had transpired since his arrival in Silver City, New Mexico, slowly working his memory forward. He reviewed the weeks prior to the trip. Lynne. Joe. Julie. Michael. In a rush of sadness at what he’d done with his life and what he had done to those closest to him, Wolf cried. He cried silently, with few tears, but with an absolute depth of sadness that claimed much of his present spirit. He apologized, but it didn’t seem to wipe away any of the pain. Eventually, he walked into his bedroom, stripped down, and went to bed, whimpering, saying he was sorry, over and over, until he fell asleep.
The next morning, Wolf showered and dressed for work. The apartment didn’t seem quite as cold. His belongings felt more a part of him. At moments throughout his morning traditions, he felt the tug of his former self pull at him. He could easily have slipped into that old role merely by allowing himself to kick the soap angrily when it slipped from his hands in the shower, or by throwing his razor across the room when it refused to click on. Instead, he held back. He picked the soap up and held it in his hand more carefully. He found the battery charger and cord adapter for his razor. He held back, focused on what he felt, what his reactions wanted him to do, but made no move to act on them.
He dressed conservatively in a pair of slacks, a sports coat and loafers. He wore his most organic-looking tie. As he stood before the mirror over the sink in the bathroom, he smiled. Proud. Satisfied.
As he stepped outside his building, the air tucked in around him like the arms of an old friend. Although the air’s freshness incorporated all the smells of the city—a mixture of tobacco smoke, asphalt, car exhaust and cologne—the basic odor of nature pulled through. The morning smell of a new day lifted up from and through the city odors.
Wolf breathed deeply and walked to the corner bakery where he bought a fresh bagel and coffee. He bought a paper at a newsstand and made his way easily to the subway. The gentle music of train wheels over tracks, the swaying of the cars, the rustle of papers, smell of coffee—all stood out as unbelievable, miraculous. A thousand times he had made this trip, and never had he felt so exhilarated, so aware of his surroundings. He had taken it for granted, as though there were no sounds, no smells, no sensations whatsoever.
How many years had he lost? Had he been lost inside his own head? Inside his own raging emotions, self-centered and diseased? He let his mind wander, but never totally let go of his senses. It was like doing two things at once, thinking, yet remaining aware of his present surroundings. Unusual. Interesting. Positive.
The office building was open, but no one else had shown up for work. He flipped on the light in his office expecting to see his desk piled with papers and disorganized, but his desk was clear except for a small stack of manila folders neatly piled in the center. It felt unclean to him, although it appeared freshly attended to. “Who’s been sleeping in my bed,” he said aloud.
He sat down and powered up his computer, then turned his chair around and opened the blind. The morning light cast a slight glow into the room that softened the fluorescent lights overhead. As his computer screen resolved, he tossed his newspaper on top of the manila folders.
Wolf checked his e-mail, then turned to the blinking phone and checked his voice mail. His in-basket sat, almost empty, on a bookshelf that stood adjacent to his office door. It was obvious that someone had been taking care of his work while he was gone. Only three e-mail messages remained on his computer and only one voice-mail message on his phone.
He expected the job must go on, but Wolf still felt the loss of control, the break in the flow. Recognizing that old anger building up, he sat back in his chair and took three long, deep breaths, exhaling noisily through his teeth.
“Oh, so you’re back,” Milly said, peeking her head around the corner.
Wolf smiled broadly at seeing her familiar face. “Milly, how have you been?”
She shot him a quizzical look and said, “Fine,” then walked away, toward her own desk.
Wolf shook his head and felt somewhat offended even though he knew he and Milly had never really been on personal terms. Still, she didn’t seem to care about what had gone on. She wasn’t even curious. Yet, the staff must have been told.
Wolf got up and walked from his office to Milly’s cubicle. She was arranging her things before sitting down.
“Tell me,” he said, “who took over my accounts while I was gone?”
“On your short vacation, you mean?”
“Well, I wouldn’t call what I’ve gone through a vacation, but, yes, during that time.”
“Craig mostly.” She pushed-on her computer, ignoring eye contact.
“Mostly?”
“Frank did some. But he didn’t seem to like it.”
“He gives me all the tough ones, no wonder.”
“If that’s what you think.” She turned then and said, “Would you mind if I drink my coffee in quiet?”
“No. Not at all.” Wolf could hear himself saying something condescending, but the words never made it to his mouth. Instead, he left her alone, wondering if, somehow, he had deserved the cold reaction he received from her.
Back in his office, he threw the newspaper into the trash and opened the top folder on his desk. He recognized Craig’s handwriting. The notes were explicit and well-organized, and Wolf felt the old competitiveness return. As he read down through Craig’s remarks, he noticed a slight cockiness, a smug arrogance. He closed the first folder and opened the second. He sensed the same attitude here, lurking in the meticulous attention to details.
“Fuck,” he said, throwing the folder back onto the pile. He turned his head, then swung his chair completely around. A crow flew past the window, black against the white, intermittent clouds. He tried to relax, to forget his perception of Craig’s comments.
“Still vacationing, I see.” Craig stood centered in the doorway when Wolf turned.
“Fuck you,” Wolf said, but the edge wasn’t there.
Craig smiled at him and shook his head, “Well, if you have any questions, feel free to consult me.” Craig left abruptly, slapping the side of the doorway with his palm.
Wolf gave the finger to the empty space where Craig had been, then got up and closed the door.
He walked to the window and put his palms against the glass. He had never been so near to his own office window before and was surprised at how much more he could see than the limited view he had always accepted while sitting at his desk. To his right was a building which someone had planted with marigolds along its roof ’s perimeter. They rimmed it with glowing, orange fire, swaying in a breeze. The old architecture of a church stood out between two office buildings, ornate, warm.
The streets below were busy. People, he thought, each an individual. Each like me. Each thinking his life is more important to the whole than any other life. Well, it wasn’t true in many ways, but deep inside himself, Wolf knew that it was true in one important sense. How the individual perceives the world has an effect on every other person he comes in contact with. How each approaches his or her own life affects thousands.
A deep sadness clutched at his chest as he stood there. What could he do as an individual that would help everyone he touched live with more integrity?
Wolf placed the entire stack of folders from his desk upright in his lap and leaned back in his chair. One by one he flipped through them. He knew the companies. He knew their products. He also knew which companies couldn’t deliver on their promises, which ads—that he had worked on—were lies. Every folder belonging to a company he could no longer believe in he placed on a pile to his left, and each folder belonging to a company or campaign he felt had some integrity behind it he placed on a pile to his right.
There were only two companies
out of nine that he would continue working with. Craig could have the others, and the commissions that went with them. Wolf could find other companies, other groups, to work with—ones he believed in. He lifted the two folders, one a shoe manufacturer who was truly trying to create the proper footwear for comfort and support. Wolf knew that a separate, small division of the company made and delivered specialty shoes to children with birth defects.
The second company produced canned fruits and used higher cost, but less-harmful materials in their packaging, as well as more natural preservatives in their consumable products. Each of their packing plants operated with high environmental consciousness. The other seven companies consisted of the usual apparel, automotive, and soft drink companies. Many offered products for exorbitant prices that were either unhealthy or shoddy, or both. Many of the principals themselves had no conscience, no scruples.
Wolf didn’t want to work with such people any longer, even though he recognized that he had been one of them. The chain had to be broken somewhere. He took a deep breath. His decision was made. Now he had to tell Frank.
He thought for a moment as to what he would say, running a few scenarios quickly through his head, but none seemed right. No matter, he had always been good on his feet. He’d play it by ear.
Just then the phone rang. “Hello, this is Wolf.”
“Wolf. So, you’re in. I’d like to see you in my office.”
“I’ll be right up.”
“Right.” The phone clicked.
So, Frank had beaten him to the punch. Grabbing the two folders at his right, Wolf placed them on top of the larger stack to his left, then lifted them all into his arms. He’d might as well address the situation right away. Confidently, Wolf entered Frank’s office. His superior’s expression was unreadable.
“Sit down, please,” Frank said, motioning with his hand.
Wolf sat, resting the folders in his lap between both hands.
“You’re feeling better, I presume?”
“Much.”
“Do you remember our conversation prior to your leaving several weeks ago?”
Wolf thought for a moment. He did remember, but before he spoke, he took a moment to get in touch with what he was feeling. He observed all his bodily functions; his face began to fill with blood, the hair on the back of his neck began to stand up. But he only observed. In a moment, as quick as his body reacted, Wolf was able to divert the events into other parts of his body, diffusing their effects, their warnings. Was he about to be let go? He shifted in his chair. “I remember.”
“I’ve decided not to let you go. Not yet.” Frank fiddled with some papers on his desk. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “But,” he paused again, finding and lifting a paper in front of him. Wolf couldn’t see what it was, but Frank read it over quickly.
“You’ve cost this company a lot of money. And I don’t know what happened out there, but I’ve got to recoup some of it. Half.” He put the paper down. “Yes, half, at least. So...” Frank leaned his elbows on his desk and looked directly at Wolf. “I’m holding your commissions until it’s paid. Only the court costs, hotel, meals, that sort of thing. I’ll eat the hours you were off work.” There was a long silence as the two of them retreated into their own thoughts.
Wolf understood something not said. He lifted the folders in his lap and let them fall back down. “Craig couldn’t do it, could he, Frank?”
“That’s not why I’m doing this.”
“No, but it’s true.”
“Listen, you weren’t doing the job before you left. Remember?”
“I remember,” Wolf said. He recognized that Frank was making a complex, calculated decision. It was probably being made with some risk as well. Wolf looked down at the folders in his lap, and for a moment reevaluated his decision to drop seven out of nine companies. When he looked back up, Frank’s face was turned away. “You’re not going to like this, but I’ve decided...”
Frank raised a warning finger, interrupting. “I’m not sure I like the decision I already made. Don’t make me change that decision now.”
Wolf held his pose, chin up and out. He separated the folders into their two sections and placed the bulk of them on the end of Frank’s desk.
“I’m relinquishing these jobs to Craig, or whoever else you wish to give them to, but I can no longer work with companies that I don’t believe in.”
Frank leaned forward again and rotated the folders so that he could read their labels. “No.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said no. You were one of the best I’d ever seen. You could really work a client, get him to say yes when his whole being wanted to say no. You could manipulate, persuade, intimidate: whatever it took. And now you want to drop out. I won’t let you. I need you on high-yield.” He looked straight at Wolf. “Let me look over these numbers and maybe we can negotiate.”
“I’ll get other clients.”
“I can’t be sure of that. And neither can you. You’ve proven nothing. You come back here and right away you want a lighter load.” Frank punched the stack of folders with his index finger and his voice got louder. “I need to make up some losses, here! You can’t do this. What’s wrong with these clients? They pay their bills.”
“I just, well, I just don’t believe in them anymore.”
Frank threw himself into the back of his chair. “Jesus H.” He took a deep breath. “You know what? It’s your job to believe in them. That’s it! You do it. There is no negotiating.”
“Then I’m not doing it any longer.” Wolf stood and placed the other two folders onto Frank’s desk.”
“You can’t leave.”
“I quit.”
“What are you going to do?” Frank yelled as Wolf left the office, “You need this job, mister.”
Wolf heard papers flying and scattering over the floor behind him. His heart beat fast. He was scared, possibly more so than when he was alone in the mountains. How long could he afford his apartment, lifestyle, and child support on zero income?
On his way out of the building, Wolf stopped into his office. He looked around for something personal to remove, a painting on the wall, a picture of Michael, anything. He stepped inside for only a moment and reached out, but for what? Nothing. His hand became cold, as though he’d placed it inside a clear pool of spring water in the mountains. The strangeness of the office overwhelmed him. It was no longer his. That quickly. He no longer belonged there. Leave it, he heard a voice inside himself say. He turned and walked to the elevators.
His phone had begun to ring and he left that sound behind him. It would probably be Frank, and there was nothing the two of them could say to one another that would matter. Wolf wanted to explain to Frank, but couldn’t come up with the words. There were no words. Images and feelings played over his mind with crystal clarity, but no words that could come close.
When the elevator closed in around him, Wolf expelled a long breath of air from his lungs, releasing the air from his office, purging himself of everything that had to do with that part of his life.
The elevator doors opened and a new life awaited him. The sun sparkled along the sidewalks, brighter than the fluorescent lighting he was used to inside his office. The sun was real.
He laughed out loud and a passing woman gave him an odd look. Wolf nodded to her and walked to the subway station. He boarded the first train that stopped and took it to its third stop, for no reason. There he got off and blindly took another train two more stops. When he got off that train he went above ground and walked until he found an open restaurant where he could have a full breakfast.
Wolf removed his tie and watched the other people come and go. He ordered and ate slowly. He had plenty of time. His mind wandered in and out of fear, excitement, worry, hope. He let it dwell on nothing in particular. He wanted it to flow like the river, to sway in the wind like the trees, to become its own sound, to find its own voice. In the hubbub of city noises, strange voices, and clanking plates, t
here was a pale sort of silence that Wolf let in. Tomorrow, he thought, will be completely different from anything I remember.
On his way out of the restaurant, Wolf tugged off his tie and tossed it away. He hailed a cab and told the driver his address. In ten minutes he was home. He double-tipped, then went up to his apartment. The message light on his answering machine was blinking. He leaned to look at the number: One. “Gotcha, Frank,” Wolf said, and pushed the message button.
The machine beeped. Joe’s voice began to speak. “Wolf? I don’t know what’s going on with you at work, but they told me you quit. It doesn’t matter, anyhow.” He coughed. “I need to talk to you. Please. Right away.” After a short pause, he said, “It’s important. I’m at home.”
Wolf stared. Joe sounded upset. That was very unlike Joe. Wolf removed his suit coat and threw it over the back of the couch. He picked up the phone and dialed Joe’s number. It rang several times before Susan picked up. “Suze,” Wolf said, “Joe called. Said it was important.”
It was difficult for Wolf to hear her because she whispered into the phone. “Oh, it is. Hold on.”
“Wolf?” Joe’s voice was louder.
“Yes, Joe, I’m here. Are you all right? You sound so…so…upset. And Suze, too.”
“Wolf, can you please come to the house? I’ve got to talk with you.”
“It has something to do with Gary, doesn’t it?” Wolf said.
“Don’t, Wolf. We have to meet.”
“Done. I’ll be there in half an hour.”
“Thanks.”
Wolf held onto the receiver and listened for a moment to the emptiness of the dead line. He didn’t want to believe the worst about Gary. Perhaps Gary had gotten into a car accident. Why couldn’t Joe have told him?
Wolf quickly changed clothes. The phone rang while he was in his bedroom. He heard Frank’s voice, calm and controlled, ask him to return the call. “We can work this out,” Frank told the machine. But Wolf had no intention of answering that call this day. Maybe later, in a week, but not now. Wolf locked up and hailed a cab at street level. He seldom drove his car in the city; he could never find a place to park.
Terry Persun's Magical Realism Collection Page 40
