Learning to Fly: A story about overcoming depression

by David E Forrester

  ‘Pete Clarke,’ he answered.

  ‘Hi Pete, it’s Nigel. A big client called last night and said they wanted a meeting this morning. I slotted them in before the start of your meetings today, so I need you at their office in the City at seven am.’

  Pete let out a groan as he did the mental calculations. He had about thirty minutes to bathe and shave and jump in a cab if he was to avoid peak-hour traffic and make the meeting on time. No time for breakfast, he thought. Pete fought back his urge to tell Nigel to go fish. ‘OK, Nigel, where is it?’ he asked.

  ‘The Gherkin,’ Nigel said curtly and hung up.

  ‘Wow, an actual address and some thanks would’ve been nice,’ Pete said and rolled out of bed. He laboured into the bathroom, switched on the light and leaned on the sink. He looked at his tired, unshaven face and said, ‘Crap, not you again.’

  After having downed a bottle of water and a bag of nuts from the hotel minibar, Pete was using the cab ride over to the meeting to meditate. He started by picturing Robert and feeling about his body to find where he felt the love and joy the image generated. It was on his heart. Pete then imagined the feelings spreading throughout his body and revitalising it. Just as he was feeling full of the love and joy he was generating, Pete was jerked out of his contemplation by the cab jolting to a halt and the driver announcing, ‘That’ll be thirty-two quid, mate.’

  Pete quickly paid the cab driver and stepped onto the pavement at Thirty St Mary Axe at five minutes to seven feeling far more refreshed than when he had woken up. He saw Chen and Nigel waiting out the front of the building. Nigel was looking expectantly at his watch.

  ‘Good morning, gentlemen. This is an early start,’ Pete said cheerily as he approached the pair.

  Chen smiled at Pete. ‘Yes, it is. I hope you’re ready for these guys. They gave me a pretty hard time the last time I saw them,’ Chen cautioned.

  ‘Great, an exciting meeting will wake me up,’ Pete said sarcastically.

  ‘Well if you two ladies are finished gossiping, can we head up so we’re on time?’ Nigel said grumpily.

  ‘OK,’ Pete said, exchanging raised eyebrows with Chen.

  Forty-five minutes into the hour-long meeting, the senior of the group, an especially cynical portfolio manager named John, grew tired of badgering Chen and turned his attention to Pete. ‘So, you’re the famous Peter Clarke, are you?’ he asked with mild scorn.

  ‘Pete’s fine,’ Pete replied politely.

  ‘So, are you going to just sit there or are you going to actually contribute something to this meeting?’ he asked with contempt.

  Despite being hungry and beginning to lose his vitality, Pete put on his best face. ‘I’d be happy to contribute, John. What would you like to discuss?’

  ‘I don’t know. You’re the trader, what are you thinking?’

  I wonder if this guy was a shrink in his previous life, Pete thought and smirked inwardly. He gathered up his mental strength and said, ‘Well, I think the market’s too short the Euro against the US Dollar. Sure, the ECB’s printing money and a lot of people think that the US Federal Reserve’s going to start raising rates soon. But all of that’s in the Euro-Dollar’s price already.’

  John sat up straight in his chair. ‘Wait a minute. Didn’t you go short Euro–Dollar after the Swiss de-peg just last month? That’s quite a flip flop in the space of a few weeks,’ he added disdainfully as he wondered whether Pete had just been lucky rather than smart in his recent trading.

  Pete knew that John had used to term ‘flip flop’ to bait him, but was unfazed. ‘You know the polar vortex that’s hitting the US right now?’ Pete asked rhetorically. ‘It’s going to make the US economic data look weak in the coming months as it’s shutting down more than half of the economy and that’s going to cause the Fed to hesitate about raising rates. I think that Euro–Dollar’s ripe for a short squeeze,’ Pete explained.

  John mulled over Pete’s argument and then gave him a nod of respect. ‘Thanks Pete. I think I’m going to start getting out of my short Euro–Dollar position on that.’ He looked over at Nigel. ‘Nice to see you can still bring something decent to the table, Nigel. I’ll see how much of the trade I can do through you. You think you can handle a large trade without gouging me on the spread? I don’t want to stay in the position any longer. The weather in the States could get worse and people would wake up to what Pete’s thinking,’ John added, nodding towards Pete.

  Nigel resisted a greedy smile and said, ‘I’ll head back to the office right after this meeting and make sure our traders can handle the flow and keep the spreads tight.’

  ‘Good. Thank you, gentlemen. We need to head off now. I’ll let you show yourselves out. If you have any troubles or need to call a cab, Melanie our receptionist will be able to help you.’ John stood up and his entourage followed suit.

  Handshakes were quickly exchanged and John and his team left Chen, Pete and Nigel alone in the conference room. ‘Hey, Nigel, is there any chance we could stop over for a quick breakfast before we head back to the office?’ Pete asked.

  Nigel looked up from his iPhone, annoyed. ‘I doubt it. I have a car booked to pick us up downstairs in ten minutes and I promised the rest of Sales I would have you back at the office by nine for your other meetings when I booked this meeting.’ Nigel turned his attention back to his iPhone.

  Pete felt irked by Nigel’s lack of gratitude and hospitality, but managed to keep his tone civil. ‘Yes, I understand, but a quick stop at a coffee shop to grab something and go would be fine. Right, Chen?’ Pete added, looking at Chen.

  ‘That’d be great. I haven’t had breakfast,’ Chen said.

  ‘I don’t have time to play nursemaid, I’ve got trades to book,’ Nigel replied, without looking up from his iPhone.

  Pete became more assertive. ‘Well Chen and I got up early this morning to come to this meeting and helped you get one of those trades. So, I think the least you could do is make sure we have something to eat. We’ve got back-to-back meetings with clients at the office until lunch, and doing those on an empty stomach won’t be easy,’ Pete said.

  Nigel looked up from his iPhone, angry now. ‘Let’s get this straight. I manage the relationship with this client, which is the only reason the two of you were in the meeting. And another thing. If you can’t handle the pace of the meetings, go home. But if you stay, do me and everybody else a favour and take a teaspoon of cement and harden the hell up,’ Nigel added and then returned to his iPhone.

  Chen looked at the floor meekly, while Pete forced himself to gaze out the window at the city skyline. He whispered quietly to himself, ‘Asshole.’ Pete noticed his reflection in the window, the familiar face of his fiery anger staring back at him as sunlight carved deep, dark lines into his face, making it look as if his flesh were hanging off him.

  Pete closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but found no cool air rushing in to extinguish his anger. He examined his thoughts about Nigel’s behaviour and saw no distortion in the way he viewed it. Nigel really is being an asshole, Pete reflected. So, he had to find another way to control his anger.

  Pete expelled the breath and felt for his anger. He found it burning brightly in his mind as he thought of all of the things he could justifiably say to Nigel. Then he imagined feeling the heat from the anger gradually begin to die down. He let out a breath and took in another as he forgave himself for feeling angry and watched as he allowed it to begin burning itself out. Pete’s concentration began to waver, but he forced himself to stay focused on the anger, not its source or the reaction it could fuel, and he slowly asphyxiated the emotion as he gradually let out the breath.

  After a few seconds, Pete opened his eyes to look back at his reflection. His face was now bathed in gentle sunlight, which filled in his wrinkles and made him look younger. The sun must’ve shifted, Pete thought. He moved closer to Chen and whispered, ‘Hey Chen, let’s go?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Chen asked looking confused.

 
‘Let’s hijack the car that’s meeting us downstairs and leave Nigel behind. I know a café we can quickly stop off at on the way to the office. We should still make it back to Canary Wharf by nine.’

  Nigel was oblivious to their conversation as he tapped away at his iPhone.

  Chen looked at Pete a little uncertain. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll take the heat if there’s any. I’ll even shout you breakfast,’ Pete added with with mischievous smile.

  ‘OK, let’s go,’ Chen said, returning Pete’s grin.

  Pete and Chen scurried out the door and were already at reception by the time they heard Nigel ask faintly, ‘Hey, where are you two going?’

  They waved at the receptionist and jumped into a lift.

  After a good night’s sleep, Pete arrived Thursday morning at the bank’s head office refreshed and thirty minutes before his meetings were scheduled to start. He was going to take the opportunity to catch up with the London traders and paused at the edge of the trading floor. While he had been up to the London office several times in the past, he always stood in awe of its size. It was nearly as big as a football pitch and dwarfed Singapore’s modest floor.

  ‘Peter Clarke?’ Terry Rickard stuck his head out of his office.

  Pete smiled inwardly. He always found it amusing that Terry’s office acted as a sentinel’s booth to the trading floor. Pete turned and quickly walked back to shake Terry’s hand. ‘Hi Terry. How’s the market been treating you?’ he asked.

  ‘Not bad. I didn’t manage to make money out of the Swiss de-peg like you, but I didn’t lose my shirt either. I think that’s pretty good relative to the blood on the rest of the street.’

  ‘It is, and I’m glad to hear you avoided the worst of it,’ Pete said.

  ‘Could you pop into my office for a bit?’ Terry asked.

  It was rare that people were called into Terry’s office for anything good, but then he remembered Nick’s promise to him of one-on-one time with Terry and relaxed a little. ‘Sure Terry, I’d appreciate any time you have,’ Pete said putting on his best poker face.

  ‘Great, come on in,’ Terry replied, holding out his arm to usher Pete into his office. Terry closed the door, adding to Pete’s nervousness.

  Pete stood looking around the office while Terry walked behind his desk. There were several plaques on the wall for various awards the bank had won as well as certificates of appreciation from sporting clubs and charities. There was also some sporting paraphernalia sprinkled about the office – signed rugby balls and jerseys. Then Pete saw it, the photo of Derek running out onto a rugby pitch with the British Lions. He even had the bank’s name and logo blazing across his chest as the sponsor.

  ‘Please take a seat Pete,’ Terry said as he sat down.

  Pete snapped out of his reverie.

  ‘First of all, Pete, I’d like to personally thank you for your handling of the Swiss de-peg. You really saved the bank’s bacon on that one,’ Terry said sincerely.

  ‘Thanks Terry,’ Pete replied, keeping things simple.

  ‘How are things for you down in Singapore? Still liking it?’ Terry inquired.

  ‘Yes, very much. It’s an easy place to live. You can get to and from work without much of a hassle and the school buses come right to your doorstep. It cuts a massive amount of stress out of your life,’ Pete added.

  ‘Good to hear. But have you ever thought of moving to London?’ Terry probed.

  Pete tried to hide his surprise. ‘I thought I’d stay in Asia a while longer and may be try being the Head of Trading down there,’ he proposed and nervously awaited Terry’s reply.

  Terry’s face was inscrutable as he sat forward to lean on his desk. ‘Yes, we will need someone to replace Nick,’ he said acknowledging Nick’s imminent promotion. ‘But what I would like to offer you Pete is a quasi-prop-trading job. While you wouldn’t get to manage a team, you also wouldn’t have to deal with Sales as often and only when you fill in for one of the other traders while they’re away. Most of the time you’d just be trading,’ Terry said.

  ‘I thought that we weren’t allowed to prop-trade anymore?’ Pete asked a little sceptically.

  ‘I’ve already talked to compliance. We can always find ways around the new regulations,’ Terry said in a matter-of-fact manner. ‘And don’t forget, London is the largest FX market in the world, so you’d have opportunity to make more money up here than down in Asia; even if you were Head of Asian Trading,’ Terry added trying to further entice Pete.

  Pete sat quietly thinking for a while and then remembered that he had promised himself that after the past year, he would no longer make decisions based on money. Instead, they would be based on family, and family screamed, ‘No!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Terry, but I’d be uprooting my family just when we’ve got settled, especially with my son now in school. And I’ve actually liked being in charge of the team in Asia whenever Nick was away. But I really appreciate the offer. I understand that it would be a new position and a big deal,’ Pete said sincerely.

  Terry sighed. He looked more disappointed than Pete had expected. ‘Well you can’t blame me for trying,’ he replied. ‘How much longer are you in London for?’

  ‘Today and Friday,’ Pete said.

  ‘Well take your time to get more of a feel for the place and see if it can convince you where I can’t and let me know by the end of the week,’ Terry said. ‘And Pete, I think that you should seriously consider the move.’

  Pete was a little taken aback by Terry’s persistence. ‘Thanks Terry, I certainly will.’

  ‘Good. London’s got lousy weather, but it’s got a lot of good things that compensate for it.’ Terry stood up and extended his hand across the desk to Pete. ‘Thanks for dropping by, Pete.’

  ‘Sure. And thank you for your time Terry.’

  As Pete was about to turn and walk out of the office, Terry added, ‘And Pete, no more running off on my salespeople. You were not only late for your next meeting, but it took Nigel an hour to get back to the office by the time he got another cab. He complained he missed some deals because of it.’

  Pete knew better than to argue his case with Terry. ‘You’re right Terry. My apologies, it won’t happen again.’

  ‘I’m certain it won’t,’ Terry said as he sat back down behind his desk.

  45

  Picnic in the park

  Fresh from unpacking and showering, Pete was attracted to the kitchen by the smell of frying meat. ‘So, what’s the Saturday night special?’ Pete asked as he walked into the kitchen.

  Liz turned to Pete. ‘Hamburgers,’ she replied, moulding a patty with her hands before passing it to Wati to fry.

  ‘Hamburgers? Wow, real food!’ Pete said.

  ‘Well, beetroot burgers that is,’ Liz corrected Pete.

  Pete groaned and responded, ‘How could you take something so sacred and butcher it? Pun intended.’

  ‘They’re half beef and half beetroot. So just think of them as corner-shop burgers1 from back home with the beetroot slice already mixed into the meat,’ Liz said encouragingly.

  ‘I guess that’s one way of looking at it,’ Pete replied sceptically, but then had an idea that buoyed his spirits. ‘Say, how long until they’re ready?’

  ‘About five more minutes. Why, are you really hungry?’ Liz inquired.

  ‘A bit, but I can wait. I was just thinking we could pack the hamburgers up and head to the Botanic Gardens for a picnic. There’s a few hours of sunlight left,’ Pete suggested.

  ‘Hey, that’s a great idea,’ Liz said, surprised.

  ‘Good, I’ll get Bobby ready and everything packed while you two finish up in here,’ Pete replied and headed out of the kitchen.

  ‘Hey Bobby, let’s get your soccer ball and the picnic blanket. We’re going on a picnic for dinner.’

  Bobby let out an excited squeak. When Pete came back into the kitchen, Liz was using her wrists to wipe away happy tears. ‘Hey, do you want me to pack plastic cutlery or are we being environm
entally friendly and packing metal cutlery?’

  ‘We’ll pack the cutlery, you and Bobby can handle the rest,’ Liz said, trying to appear composed.

  Pete looked at Liz, concerned. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m fine, it’s just the onions,’ Liz replied, trying to bat away Pete’s question.

  Pete glanced at the onions, which were sitting on a plate and had already been cooked. ‘Really? I don’t think so,’ he said gently.

  Bobby yelled from the other side of the apartment, ‘Hey Daddy, I can’t reach the picnic blanket. Could you come and help me, please?’

  Wati moved a cooked patty from the frying pan and onto a plate with the other cooked patties as Liz continued shaping the final patty. ‘I’ll finish this one up Wati. Could you go and help Bobby, please?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Wati replied.

  Pete waited until Wati was outside the kitchen and asked, ‘So are you OK?’

  Liz placed the final patty in the pan and looked back at Pete with a tender smile, ‘I was just thinking about how much you’ve changed over the past year.’

  ‘I trust those are tears of joy then,’ Pete offered, caressing Liz’s forearm.

  Liz took in a breath through her nose to hold back more tears. She nodded and said, ‘They are.’

  Pete smiled warmly. ‘Good.’ He leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek, and they looked at each other quietly for a few seconds as if seeing each other a new light. ‘I’ll go and finish packing and send Wati back in here to help you,’ Pete said, and turned to leave the kitchen.