The Ghost (6 page)

A month? In Florida? Is that a polite way of getting rid of me? Why don't you just fire me? In fact, they had discussed that too, but given his immense success abroad, and the contract he'd signed, they both found it more than a little embarrassing to fire him, and potentially very expensive. His not working out in New York would be a reflection on them as well, and they were both anxious to avoid any possibility of lawsuits or scandal. He was highly respected in their field, and firing him, and all that entailed, would cause comment and controversy, which might eventually hurt them. They wondered if leaving him in Florida for a while would cool him off, and give them a chance to rethink their options. They needed time to discuss it with their lawyers.

Fire you? They guffawed at the thought. Charles! Of course not! But just looking at them, Charlie knew better. He knew that sending him to Florida was just a ploy to get him out of their hair. And he also knew that not only was he unhappy in New York, but he was making them very nervous. Professionally at least, in his years abroad, he had come to represent everything they hated. He was far too avant-garde now for the New York office, and in their haste to fill the job, they had somehow managed to overlook that.

Why not just send me back to London? he asked hopefully. But the truth was, they couldn't. They had just signed a deal with Dick Barnes, guaranteeing him Charlie's old job for at least five years. He had come at them with an incredibly shrewd lawyer. But the contract had been drawn up in the utmost secrecy, and Charlie knew nothing about it. I'd be a lot happier if I were there, and so would you, I suspect. He smiled at the two men who were his bosses. They weren't bad men, they just had no sense of artistic excitement, and lately they seemed to be lacking courage. They were tired, and so was everything they were doing. And they were running a police state in order to keep everything the way they wanted.

We need you here, Charles, they explained, looking more than ever like Siamese twins to him. We're going to have to make the best of a difficult situation. But they didn't sound any happier than he did, and they were desperately groping for a solution.

Why? Why do anything we don't want to do? Charlie said suddenly, feeling a strange rush of freedom. He had already lost everything he cared about when Carole left. He had no wife, no ties, no family, no home anywhere, and all his belongings were in storage. All he had now was his job, and he hated it more than he had ever hated anything he'd ever done. Why stay? He suddenly couldn't think of a single reason to be there, other than his contract. But maybe a good attorney could dissolve it. A thought had just come to him while they were speaking, and he was overwhelmed by a sudden sense of liberation. He didn't have to be there. In fact, if he took a sabbatical, they might be relieved not to have to pay him. Maybe I should just leave, he said practically, looking completely unemotional about it. But the senior partners were far more concerned about losing him than he was about leaving. Besides, they had no one else to run the office, and neither of them wanted to do it.

Maybe a leave of absence, they said cautiously, watching to see his reaction. But he looked happier than he had in the entire seven weeks he'd been there. It was precisely what he'd been thinking. He had realized everything he needed to know now. They didn't own him. He could leave anytime he wanted. And he suddenly didn't care what happened. Eventually, he could always go back to London, even if he left them.

I think a leave of absence is a great idea, he said, smiling at them, feeling almost diz2y with excitement. It was like skydiving, like floating free in the air, completely unfettered and unchained. I don't mind if you want to fire me, he said almost nonchalantly, and both men shuddered in answer. Given the contract they had signed, if they fired him, they would have to pay him anyway for two years, or he could turn around and sue them.

Why don't you just take a few months off ' with pay, of course. They were willing to pay almost anything just then to avoid their constant battles with him. He was driving them both crazy. Give yourself time to decide where you want to go from here. You might even decide that we're not so wrong after all, after you give it a little careful consideration. If only he would agree to play by their rules, they could live with him. But for the moment, to Charlie anyway, that seemed out of the question. You can take up to six months, Charles, if you need it. We'll discuss everything again when you're ready. He was a good architect, after all, and they needed him, but not if he was going to swim upstream and challenge every decision they made about every building. But he nonetheless had a feeling that they had something up their sleeves and weren't being totally honest with him, and he couldn't help wondering if they had ever really planned to send him back to London. He could always go back on his own, of course. But now that he was here, he thought he might spend a month or so traveling to other cities, maybe Philadelphia and Boston. And after that, he wanted to go back to England.

I'd like to go back to London, Charlie said honestly. I don't think the New York office will work for me, even in six months, or after a long vacation. He didn't want to mislead them. The atmosphere here is very different. I can do this for a while, if you need me to, for a short time at least. But I think having me here is counterproductive.

We've thought of that too, right now anyway, they said, looking relieved. As far as they were concerned, in his years abroad he had become a renegade and a misfit. He had worked independently for too long, and gotten too many European ideas to allow him to readjust his thinking even now that he had left there.

Even Charlie realized that there was always the possibility that he would eventually be able to compromise with them, for a while anyway. And maybe after six months off, he would feel ready to face New York again, but he doubted it. It was too uncomfortable for him, and he couldn't do any of the work here that he was known for. But six months would give them all time to think, and figure out where to put him.

He couldn't help wondering, too, if they were right in another sense. They had implied that he was overwrought and exhausted after his problems with Carole. And maybe he did need some time to recover. Leaving his job, and taking time off, was the wildest thing he had ever done. He had never done anything like it before. He barely used up his annual vacation, and hadn't taken any significant time off since college, nor had he ever wanted to do that. But in the situation he found himself in, it was suddenly very appealing. He had a contract with the firm, and yet he knew he had to get away from the New York office before it drove him completely crazy.

Where will you go from here? they asked with concern. As disappointing as his return had been for them, they had always liked him.

I have absolutely no idea, he said honestly, trying to relish the uncertainty of his situation, rather than be frightened by it. There was nothing for him here. But there was nothing for him in London at the moment either. And he didn't want to risk running into Simon and Carole. It was easier to stay in the States for a while longer. Maybe I'll go to Boston, he said vaguely. He had grown up there, but had no relatives in the area anymore. His parents were long gone, and most of the people he knew were from his childhood, and he hadn't looked any of them up in ages, and didn't really want to. Particularly now, precariously half out of a job, and with a sad tale to tell them about Carole.

He thought about skiing in Vermont for a week or two, traveling for a while, and then flying back to London, before he made any permanent decisions. He had no plans for the holidays, and he was completely free. He still had quite a bit of money in the bank, after the divorce, and with his salary he could afford to be easy on himself for the time being. He could even go skiing in Switzerland or France, after he went back to London. But he also realized that he no longer had a home there. He had no home anywhere, and his belongings were on a boat on the Atlantic somewhere on their way to storage. But whatever he decided to do in the end, he knew it was a lot more appealing than being squeezed to death in their New York office.

You'll stay in touch, they said as he came around the desk to shake hands with them. They were enormously relieved by the tone and the outcome of the meeting. For a brief time, they had been afraid that he was going to give them a great deal of trouble, and he could have. According to his contract, he could have insisted on staying there, and they realized now that the battles with him would have been endless.

I'll be in contact with you about what we do when the leave is over. They had agreed on six months, and although he didn't yet know what to do with it, he was determined to use it and enjoy it. But he seriously wondered if he would ever be able to work for them again. Not in New York, in any case, and he sensed that, despite their agreement with him to send him back after a year, there was some kind of stumbling block about London. He felt as though they were just humoring him, and he wasn't far off the mark, although he didn't know it. Dick Barnes had his old job now, with a slightly different title, and the senior partners of the firm genuinely liked him. He was far more tractable and easy to get along with than Charlie.

He couldn't help wondering, as he packed the few things in his desk, if he would ever return to Whittaker and Jones, in any capacity, in any city. He was seriously beginning to wonder.

He said good-bye to everyone late that afternoon. Everything he had with him was in his briefcase. He had already given them all their files back. He had nothing to work on, to take with him, to read, no deadlines, no projects, no blueprints. He was free now. And the only one he was sorry to leave was Ben Chow, who looked at him with a broad smile just before he left the office.

How did you get so lucky? he asked under his breath, and they both laughed. Charlie felt almost euphoric as he thanked the two partners and walked out, not entirely sure if he would eventually quit, be fired, or was really just on a long vacation. But whatever it turned out to be, for the first time in his life, he wasn't even worried. He knew they would have destroyed him artistically if he'd stayed there.

What now? he asked himself as he walked back to his apartment. He had told them he'd vacate it in the morning. The cold air and the snow in his eyes sobered him. What was he going to do? Where would he go? Did he really want to go skiing, as he had said, or should he just fly back to London? And if he did, then what? It was going to be Christmas in a week, and he knew that being in London over the holidays would only make him miserable thinking of Carole. He'd want to reach out to her, or at the very least call her. He'd want to buy her a gift and then see her to give it to her. He could feel the whole carousel of agony begin to turn again just pondering the question. In some ways, it would be easier not to be there.

It was hard not to remember that it was going to be their first Christmas apart in ten years. She had even flown to London to be with him for his first year there before they were married. But not this year. This year she would be with Simon.

The skiing idea sounded good to him, and he called and rented a car for the following day as soon as he got to his apartment. He was surprised to find one still available, everyone wanted cars for the holidays, to visit relatives and carry presents. He rented it for a week, and asked for maps of Vermont, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts, and he figured he could rent ski equipment once he was there. He felt like a kid running away from home as he sat on his couch, thinking of what he'd done. A noble career had just gone right out the window, and he wasn't even sure it mattered. It was utterly and completely crazy. He wondered if he was finally losing his mind after the stress of the past year, and he thought of calling friends in London just to bounce it off them, but he had lost touch with almost everyone. He hadn't wanted to share his grief with anyone, and he had been exhausted by the questions, the probing, and the gossip. Even their sympathy had been exhausting. In the end, it was easier to be on his own, and he had also figured out that most of them were seeing a fair amount of Carole and Simon, and he didn't want to hear about that either. So he just sat there alone, wondering what Carole would say if she knew he had just left the firm, for several months, if not forever. She would probably be stunned, he thought, but on the other hand, the beauty of his situation now was that he didn't owe anyone any explanations.

He packed his bags that night, tidied everything, threw a few things out of the refrigerator, and was ready to roll at eight o'clock the next morning. He took a cab downtown to pick up the car, and as he passed the department stores, he could see the brightly lit Christmas windows. He was glad now that he was getting out of town. It was going to be hard watching everyone else in the office celebrate, listening to their plans, hearing them talk about their wives, and families and children. He had none of that now. He had no one. He didn't even have a job. A year before, he had been a man with a wife, a house, a job, and all the trappings that went with a ten-year marriage. But suddenly, he had none of that. He had a rented car, and two bags, and a handful of maps of New England.

The car's got snow tires, the man at the car rental explained, but you'd better put on chains if you go too far North. I'd say anything north of Connecticut, he advised, and Charlie thanked him. Spending Christmas in New England? The man smiled, and Charlie nodded.

I think I'll be going skiing.

There's lots of snow this year. Don't break anything! he warned, and then wished Charlie a merry Christmas as he left. Charlie had already asked him if he could return the car in Boston. He thought he might ski for a while, and then leave the car there, and fly from Boston to London. He had no reason to go to New York, not for now at least. Maybe in six months. Or maybe never.

He loaded the white station wagon quickly and drove across town. It was a decent car, and there would be plenty of room for skis if he decided to rent them. For the moment, there were only his two bags in the back, and the chains they had provided. He was wearing blue jeans, a heavy sweater, and a ski parka he had brought with him. And he was smiling to himself as he turned the heat on. He flipped on the radio then and started singing.