Learning to Fly: A story about overcoming depression

by David E Forrester

  ‘Good then,’ Liz replied, still smiling, ‘see you in about fifteen minutes,’ she added.

  Pete started to feel a little better and got up off the bed to head to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror, scowled and said, ‘Why so serious?’ in his best impression of Heath Ledger’s iconic interpretation of the Joker.

  As Pete walked through the condo playground towards the function room and where the party was being held, he started getting looks from parents and children. He waved and said, ‘Good afternoon’ politely. When he arrived at the function room, the noise level suddenly dropped as approximately thirty children turned to stare at him. Right away, Pete knew that Liz had chosen his costume wisely as most of the children were indeed dressed as either Batman or Batgirl.

  Mothers gushed at Pete’s heroic efforts, and fathers shook their heads in sympathy. While some of the children were afraid at first, Pete gave them a smile and playfully poked his tongue out at them and caused them to smile back. But then the children quickly fell back deep into character and glared and sneered at Pete as he made his way towards Liz.

  Wow, most of these kids are already dark and broody and they’re years off puberty, Pete thought to himself.

  A smug look crossed Liz’s face as Pete reached her. ‘Good job on the makeup. You have a secret fetish I don’t know about?’

  ‘Ha, ha. Where do you want me?’ Pete asked.

  ‘Out on the basketball court. We’ve already put the balloons and air horn out there,’ Liz replied.

  ‘Air horn? So, what’s the game here?’ Pete inquired.

  ‘Simple. You’re starting under the basketball ring and the kids are at the side of the court loaded up with water balloons. You have to reach the other end of the court and sound the air horn, which we’re calling the bomb, without getting hit by a water balloon. Every time you get hit, you have to head back for another try.’

  ‘It’s only a half-court for goodness sake. It’s going to be like shooting fish in a barrel for them,’ Pete protested.

  ‘Well we wouldn’t want the evil Joker’s plot to succeed, would we?’ Liz asked as she straightened his tie. Liz turned to address the crowd of children. ‘OK kids, the Joker’s here and he just told me that he has an evil plot down at the basketball court to end the party before anybody gets any birthday cake.’

  ‘No!’ they howled and began to jostle Pete.

  ‘Way to get ’em wound up, Liz,’ Pete said and was shocked at how rough some of the children were.

  Liz smiled and raised her hands above her head and cried out, ‘Let the games begin,’ in her best impression of another of Batman’s nemeses, Bane.

  ‘You’re enjoying this way too much,’ Pete told her.

  ‘Yeah, and I haven’t even seen you get wet yet,’ Liz replied, giving Pete a mischievous grin.

  The children gathered at the edge of basketball court and their parents and other onlookers formed an audience behind them. Pete was engaging in some quiet self-talk as he limbered up. Let’s do the numbers here Pete. Liz said that she and some of the other mothers had filled three hundred water balloons. That means about ten a piece for the kids and so I have about ten goes at this.’

  Liz raised her arm. ‘Are you ready kids?’

  ‘Yes!’ they yelled in unison.

  ‘Joker, are you ready?’ she said, stifling a laugh.

  Pete put one foot forward and crouched over as he gave Liz a determined look and nodded. I’ll teach these little sugar-addicted buggers, he thought, psyching himself up.

  Liz dropped her arm and yelled, ‘Go!’ Pete took off as fast as he could. He focused on the air horn and sensed water balloons splashing around him. Then he felt one balloon hit him on the thigh. Damn, I barely made it halfway, he thought as he stopped.

  ‘I got him!’ a girl yelled cheerfully.

  Pete began jogging back to his starting point. He grinned at the girl, and playfully poked out his tongue. Soon after, a water balloon hit Pete square in the chest. He looked around to see who had thrown it and it was one of the boys that had been jostling Pete in the function room. ‘Laugh at that, Joker,’ the boy yelled.

  The rest of the children began to chant, ‘Laugh, Joker, laugh. Laugh, Joker, laugh. Laugh, Joker, laugh.’

  Pete looked over at Liz as if to say, ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ She responded with a smirk and shrug of her shoulders.

  Pete decided to have a little fun and embrace his character. He let out a breathy high-pitched laugh, which silenced the children. Then he took a step forward and the children all took a step back. He could feel the tension build among the parents, especially Liz. They were worried that Pete was about to frighten the life out of a bunch of children.

  ‘I’ll get that bomb and end this party,’ Pete said, pointing to the air horn. ‘And then nobody will get cake!’ He let out another laugh, gave a goofy smile and poked his tongue out at the children.

  Bobby took a step forward. ‘No you won’t Joker,’ he said defiantly and let fly with a water balloon, hitting Pete in the face. The other children quickly followed Bobby’s lead and Pete was suddenly hit with a barrage of water balloons, which pushed him back a few steps.

  You arrogant little bastards! Pete thought as he rushed forward while the children were reloading. He grabbed as many water balloons as he could for himself and started to return fire at close range. The children responded swiftly and the game degenerated into a thirty-onto-one water-balloon fight, with Pete being chased around the basketball court. The half-court had become the proverbial barrel Pete had feared.

  It did not take long for the children to pen Pete into a corner of the court, and while they were unloading the rest of their payload on him, Pete briefly caught Liz’s eye. She stopped laughing and applauding long enough to give him a loving smile. Pete then resigned himself to his fate and slowly lowered himself to the ground while holding his hands up over his face in surrender.

  The boy who had stood up to the Joker let the last balloon fly into Pete’s shielding hands. ‘That’s for trying to spoil my birthday party, Joker!’ Bobby said. Then after a brief pause, he held his hand out to Pete and said, ‘C’mon Daddy, let me help you up.’

  Pete stretched out his hand, and Bobby grunted as he pulled Pete to his feet, then Bobby wrapped his arms around one of Pete’s thighs and said quietly, ‘I love you, Daddy, even when you’re scary.’

  Pete was now glad for the soaking, as the audience could not distinguish between his tears and the dripping water. He hugged Bobby back. ‘I love you too, Bobby, even when you’re pelting me with water balloons.’ He picked Bobby up and gave him a big kiss on the cheek, which left a smudge of red and white make-up on his face.

  ‘OK everybody, let’s have some birthday cake,’ Pete announced, and the children roared their approval. Despite being dressed in a clown suit, soaking wet and with a face covered in running makeup, Pete found it hard to think of a prouder moment in his life. Indeed, Pete felt something that he had never felt before, complete happiness.

  Pete sat in the function room with a towel around his shoulders scrolling through the photos of the water balloon fight on Liz’s iPhone. Except for a few parents talking amongst themselves, the room was empty as the children were running around the playground burning off their sugar highs. Liz came over and offered Pete some birthday cake. ‘Here you go, Joker. I think you’ve earned this,’ she said.

  Pete looked sceptically at Liz and asked, ‘Is this real cake with gluten and all the other fun stuff?’

  Liz smiled and answered, ‘Yes, it is.’

  Pete grinned as he took the plate. ‘You know I think this photo of me pleading on my hands and knees is the best,’ he said, holding the iPhone up for Liz to see. ‘I think I’ll get it framed for work,’ he added sarcastically.

  Liz studied the photo and smiled. ‘Oh yeah, that’s the one Sara forwarded to me from her Twitter feed. It’s a still shot from the video she tweeted. The video already has over two hundred views an
d is trending. If you want to take a look at it, go to – hashtag, soaksontheJoker,’ Liz said.

  ‘What?!’ Pete nearly choked on a mouthful of cake.

  There was a moment’s silence between the two of them and then Pete said half-jokingly, ‘You know I have a long memory.’

  ‘Good, then you’ll remember today for a long time and it will remind you to be happy,’ Liz quipped as she pecked Pete on the cheek and sat on the arm of the chair. The two of them began scrolling through more photos of the day and laughing together as Pete picked away at his piece of cake.

  31

  The mile relay, part 1

  ‘Hi Greg, how’s the market treating you?’ Pete asked the hedge-fund portfolio manager over the phone.

  He heard a sigh on the other end of the line. ‘Not great, Pete. This low volatility environment’s killing me. I’m not losing any money, but I’m not making any either,’ Greg complained in a broad English accent.

  ‘Yeah, tough times, mate. The Fed’s not doing anything and neither’s the ECB or BoJ. So, nothing’s happening in the big currencies,’ Pete observed.

  ‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ Greg said, a little testily.

  ‘Sorry Greg. What I meant was that you should look at some of the smaller currencies, like the Kiwi dollar, where the central bank’s doing something,’ Pete suggested.

  ‘Yeah, I know the RBNZ’s been hiking rates like crazy, but the Kiwi’s already rallied by over five per cent, so it’s too late to get long,’ Greg said, annoyed.

  ‘But Greg, I think they’ve got it wrong and they’re going to have to admit it real soon,’ Pete countered.

  ‘Yeah, how so?’ Greg asked, his curiosity piqued.

  ‘They’ve overestimated the inflation they’re going to get from the earthquake rebuild down in Christchurch,’ Pete began.

  ‘I don’t know, Pete, they seem pretty convinced that there’s not enough tradesmen to go around and that a lot people are going to get gouged on the rebuilding of their houses,’ Greg said.

  ‘But there’s loads of Kiwis flocking back home from Australia now that the mining boom’s over. They’re going to stop building mines and start building houses. That’s why New Zealand’s migration numbers are so strong. There’s going to be plenty of tradies.’

  There was silence on Greg’s end of the line for a few seconds before he replied, ‘Now that’s interesting, I hadn’t thought of that. How do you think I should trade it?’

  ‘I think that the Australian Dollar - Kiwi Dollar exchange rate is looking cheap and you should be buying it ahead of the next RBNZ meeting; it’s going to signal rate cuts are coming as growth’s already buckling under the weight of the high currency and rates,’ Pete said.

  ‘OK Pete, I’m convinced. I’ll take it to some of the other PMs to see if they’ll share in some of the risk. If we do the trade, I’ll make sure we do it with you. Thanks for the call, Pete,’ Greg added.

  ‘No problem, Greg,’ Pete replied. ‘Greg, before you go, can I talk to you for a quick sec about the Bloomberg Square Mile race being run tonight?’ he added.

  ‘That thing? I heard that the bars at Customs House are booked out with people wanting to watch it. What about it?’ Greg asked.

  ‘Well the bank’s got a team entered and I’m the team captain, so me and a few salespeople have been ringing around clients and asking them to donate some money to our chosen charity, the Singapore Red Cross. No obligation, of course,’ Pete assured Greg.

  ‘And how’s that going?’ Greg asked.

  ‘Not bad actually, I’ve got over one hundred clients signed up for donations,’ Pete answered.

  ‘What sort of amounts are we talking?’ Greg asked.

  ‘Most of the clients have agreed to make a donation according to how we do in the race,’ Pete described.

  ‘And how’s that work?’ Greg asked.

  ‘Well, there’s one hundred and fifty-nine teams competing. If we win, you donate a multiple of one hundred and fifty-nine. But, if we were to finish last, you donate a multiple of just one,’ Pete explained.

  Greg let out a chuckle. ‘I like it. You design that system, Pete?’

  ‘Yes, I did. I’m quite proud of it actually,’ Pete replied.

  ‘What do you think your odds are of winning?’ Greg asked, betraying his gambling instinct.

  ‘To be honest, Greg, not great. I’ve heard that some of the other teams have ring-ins. But our team’s completely in-house.’

  ‘Tell you what Pete. Put me down for a multiple of five. And if you win, I’ll give you a bonus by rounding it up to an even thousand.’

  ‘Wow! Thanks Greg,’ Pete said.

  ‘Good luck tonight, Pete. A mile’s a real bitch to run fast,’ Greg observed.

  ‘Yeah, I know. I used to do the fifteen hundred at school,’ Pete agreed.

  ‘Wait a minute, you didn’t tell me that!’ Greg said, shocked.

  ‘Relax Greg, it’s been nearly twenty years since I’ve pulled on a pair of running spikes. And I was never really that good. I’m aiming to crack five and a half minutes tonight,’ Pete reassured Greg.

  ‘Sounds respectable. Good luck with that,’ Greg said sincerely.

  ‘Thanks again, Greg. And good luck with the markets,’ Pete said and pressed a button on his dealing panel to end the call.

  Pete took off his headset and stood up to stretch. ‘Well, that’s the last of them,’ he said to himself. A top ten placing would see us raise more money than if we win, Pete realised with satisfaction.

  But as Pete was relaxing, he saw Michael ‘Whitey’ White, the bank’s Singapore CEO, and keen runner, walking towards his desk. Pete stopped modestly short of snapping to attention as Whitey came to his desk. ‘Hi Whitey. How can I help you?’ he asked.

  ‘So, am I in or am I out?’ Whitey asked.

  It was a quiet Thursday, so Whitey’s question attracted the attention of the trading floor. Crap, Whitey hasn’t read the email with the final team in it, Pete thought, panicking a little.

  ‘Sorry Whitey, there were one or two guys just a bit faster than you. So, you didn’t quite make the final cut,’ Pete said with his best poker face and thought he heard a few gasps around the trading floor.

  ‘No, that’s fine. Whatever puts the team into the winning position. So how do you think we’ll fare tonight?’ Whitey asked.

  ‘Not great. I’ve heard that some of the other teams having ring-ins and we don’t,’ Pete responded.

  ‘Why not?’ Whitey said.

  Pete was beginning to feel like he was being grilled in a management meeting. ‘I was tempted, but there were so many people from the bank who wanted to be on the team, it didn’t feel right to be outsourcing,’ Pete replied. Trying to make light of the situation he said, ‘We’ve already outsourced a large part of our IT to the Philippines.’

  Whitey frowned, and Pete did a mental forehead slap as he recalled that it was Whitey who had made that unpopular decision. He worked quickly to turn the conversation to something more positive. ‘I’ve also been asking clients for donations, depending on where we finish tonight, so having ring-ins didn’t seem right.’

  Whitey nodded his approval. ‘True. Well, it seems you have things very well organised. So, good luck tonight.’

  ‘Thanks Whitey.’ Pete began to relax again as Whitey turned to leave the trading floor.

  Nick had been listening to the conversation at a distance and came over and put his hand on Pete’s shoulder. ‘What the hell, Pete? You cut Whitey? And that wise crack about outsourcing. Do you want to be outsourced?’

  ‘Yeah I know. Dumb wisecrack. But Nick, a lot of people wanted to run, so I had to be fair when picking the team,’ Pete explained.

  ‘But you cut Whitey,’ Nick protested.

  ‘I can’t show him any favouritism just because he’s the boss. And I made the team selection simple and transparent. The fastest ten guys are in,’ Pete said, defending his decision.

  ‘How do you know who’s th
e fastest when the race hasn’t even been run yet?’ Nick challenged Pete.

  ‘I emailed around a map of the course, had people clock themselves around it and then submit their times. Some ran the course with me, while others, like Whitey, did a run on their own,’ Pete explained. ‘Hell Nick, I was fourth fastest. Some of those young guys are pretty quick.’

  ‘How can you trust the times of the guys you didn’t run with?’ Nick countered.

  ‘Everyone’s time from tonight will be posted on Bloomberg’s website and I included everyone’s submitted time in the email with the final team list. So, anyone who doesn’t run up to their time tonight will probably get a sarcastic nickname,’ Pete explained. ‘Something like “Runs” or “Diarrhoea”…’

  Nick let out a laugh. ‘Fair enough. But, you’re still a brave man cutting Whitey,’ Nick said as he patted Pete on the back and headed back to his office.

  Derek stood up at his desk and said, ‘So Pete, the race’s tonight?’

  ‘Yes Derek, it is,’ Pete replied and steadied himself for a snide remark.

  ‘Good, that means we can finally stop hearing about it and you can stop bothering clients about it.’

  Pete felt his anger level spike, but also noticed the attention of the trading floor was still on him. He took a quick breath and let it out while picturing Bobby cycling. ‘Sorry to hear you’re not enthusiastic about the race, Derek. But clients are, and we’ll raise a lot of money for charity tonight, win or lose,’ Pete replied and saw some people around the trading floor quietly nodding.

  ‘You’d better win after cutting Whitey,’ Derek responded.

  ‘Well the better we do in the race, the more money we’ll raise for charity. So, I think Whitey understands,’ Pete replied, then added, ‘Most clients haven’t been bothered at all. We’ve actually printed a fair amount of deal tickets on the back of the conversations I and some of the other salespeople have been having with clients about the race. So, it’s actually been good for business.’ Pete sat down before Derek could reply, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Yeah, flipped the bastard, Pete thought.