The Pursuit of Other Interests: A Novel (15 page)

“Creamed corn?
Creamed
corn! That’s just perfect. So, for the rest of my life, I basically have to take my meals intravenously and you’re telling me to relax. Come on, Jim. This is big news. I don’t think I’m overreacting. I don’t think I’m overreacting at all. This is life-changing. I’m…I’m handicapped now. I’m disabled. This will impact my life expectancy!”

“You’ll be fine. We’ll fit you for a permanent one today. You’ll be as good as new.”

“Good as new,” Charlie repeated. He shut his eyes and sucked in air.

“Charlie, are you all right?”

His chest tightened. Sitting in the dentist chair, he felt, truly felt, the full scope of his situation. Up until that point he had been in a hazy denial, if not shock. But now, at this moment, he saw things clearly: He had lost a job, a wife, and now a tooth. He was figuratively and literally falling apart. And there was nothing, it seemed, that he could do about it.

“Charlie, are you all right?” Dr. Ronin asked again.

But Charlie didn’t hear him. He just sat there, eyes closed, hands folded on his lap, taking very deep breaths.

When he got home, he wandered the empty house, his mouth and head aching. The hysteria, anger, and fear had since drained away, replaced by a now-all-too-common sense of melancholy. He sat in the reading nook for a while, his feet up on the ottoman, and watched the afternoon sunlight fade in the backyard. Another day almost gone, he thought. One more down the drain. He considered calling Donna, then decided against it. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to her or anyone, for that matter, right now. He needed, he thought, to be alone. He got up, checked the answering machine, heard Kyle’s voice say he would be eating dinner at Matt’s, then drifted over to the front hallway and stared at his face. He didn’t recognize himself.

He smiled and looked at his teeth, delicately touching the prosthesis with his pinkie finger.

He eventually settled on the bench in front of the baby grand. The house was silent and the overhead recessed lighting fell weakly on the piano keys. He studied them, admiring their simplicity, their elegance. He should have led a different life, he concluded. Been a pianist. Developed a talent, a passion. He placed his hands over the keys, his fingertips gently, imperceptibly touching them. He held them there, hoping that some divine, creative surge would pass through him so he could play. He sat in that pensive position for a few seconds before slowly lowering his hands and putting them in his pockets. He felt foolish, and for the first time in his life, he suspected he might be a fraud.

He went to bed early that night and didn’t even bother to put the humidifier on.

The next night, as soon as he finished hanging the Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs picture next to the Abraham Lincoln portrait in his home office, Donna called.

“Charlie?”

“Oh, hello.” He put the hammer down on the desk and waited for what he thought would be an outpouring of concern over his condition. None came, however. Instead, she was quiet.

“Where are you?” Charlie finally asked.

“I’m still in Maine.”

“On that island place?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you still there?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

She didn’t say anything.

“Hello, are you there? Donna?”

“I’m here,” she said.

“Well, can you at least tell me where you’re staying?”

“In a motel. The Bailey Island Motel on Bailey Island.”

“The Bailey Island Motel on Bailey Island. Very catchy.”

“It’s nice.”

“I’m glad it’s nice.” He began pacing. “Did you get my messages? I’ve been trying to reach you. You should leave your phone on. Especially when you’re on the road. I always leave my phone on when I’m on the road in case of emergencies.”

She was quiet again.

“Did you hear about my accident?”

“Yes.”

“But you never called. You could have called and asked me how I was.” He stopped here because he thought his next sentence deserved its own space. “You know,” he said, “I have a prosthesis. I have it in my mouth right now. They put it in yesterday. I can’t eat taffy for the rest of my life. You know what a prosthesis is?”

“A fake tooth. I know all about it.”

“How did you know that?”

“Kyle told me. I talked with him this morning. We talk every day.”

“You and Kyle talk?” He felt a jolt of betrayal; Kyle had not mentioned this. “When are you coming home?” he asked.

“In a few days, I’m not sure yet.”

He stopped pacing by the window. He knew what he wanted to ask, needed to ask, and had a right to ask, but hesitated. He pulled back the curtain and gazed out at the dark backyard, then decided to plunge in after all. “Are you…” he began. “Are you with someone out there?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Are you
with
someone? Another person? Specifically, a man.”

She paused. “We’ll talk about this when I get home.”

“Are you with this Bill Morgan guy? This lighthouse person? I know all about him, Donna. Kyle told me. We talk too. Just tell me, are you with him? I think I have a right to know.”

“I said we’ll talk about it when I get home.”

“I don’t think this can wait.”

“We’ll talk when I get home.”

“Listen,” he yelled. “Tell me the truth! I deserve to know.”

“I have to go now,” she said.

“Okay, okay. Don’t go, don’t go. Let’s talk, then.”

“I think I want a divorce.”

His body shook at this announcement. The utterance of that sentence, the communication of that desire, officially signified his bottoming out. After weeks of free fall, he had ripped through the atmosphere and finally hit earth. He thought the afternoon before in the dentist chair was his low point. But he was wrong. He was very wrong. He reached for the ledge of the window and steadied himself.

“We’ll talk when you get home,” he said quietly.

“I don’t think I can live with you anymore. It’s too hard. You’re compulsive, passive-aggressive, a hypochondriac, controlling, self-centered, an egomaniac.”

He made his way back over to the desk, in shock. “I can’t believe we’re even talking about this. I can’t believe you would even think about this. Especially now, with what happened to me.”

“You mean because of your tooth?”

“Because of my job. I can’t believe this. How can you even think about doing this, especially now? You must know what I’m going through.”

He looked down at a calendar on his desk. October 3. He wondered if this date would be forever burned in his memory: October 3, the date Donna said she wanted a divorce. October 3, the day everything ended.

“Charlie? Are you still there?”

He sat down and said and felt nothing. Finally, he managed to again ask, “Are you with someone? Please tell me.”

“I’m by myself. I’m alone out on the beach. The road just ends here at the beach. It’s a small beach. They call it Land’s End. There’s a sign. You can’t go any farther.”

“Donna, you shouldn’t be out there alone at night. Go back to your room and call me from there.”

“I’m okay. It’s nice out here. There’s a breeze. It’s so dark. You can’t see the ocean, but you can hear it, you know it’s here. You and I never went to the ocean together, did we?”

“No. But we will. When you get back. Listen, go to your room. Crazy people comb the beaches at night. That’s what they do. It’s their job.”

“I was thinking you and I should have traveled more.”

This was an old subject, a familiar battleground. “I asked you to come with me on lots of trips. Many times. Especially when I went overseas. You remember how I wanted you to go to Cannes with me? You know that’s true.”

“I know, I remember. That would have been good for us. I realize that now. To do things together. To get away. That was my fault. I never wanted to go anywhere. I think I was afraid.”

“What were you afraid of?”

“I don’t know. I think I was afraid of changing and I don’t think I wanted to change. I just wanted things to be the way they used to be. But everything’s changed anyway.” Charlie heard her sniffling.

“Everything’s going to be fine.”

“I’m sorry about your job,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that. I can’t believe they did that. Who did it? Was it Helmut?”

“Yes. He did it.”

“He’s a jerk.”

“It’s not his fault. I was wrong for that job. You were right. I never should have gone there.”

“Well, I’m sorry. No one worked harder than you did, that’s for sure. What are you going to do now?”

Charlie didn’t like the way she said “you” instead of “we.” “We’ll figure something out,” he said. “Anyway, you should go to your motel now. And lock the door in case you start sleepwalking. How close are you to the ocean? Is there a fence?”

Donna didn’t seem to hear him. “I had a dream last night,” she began, her voice halting. “That we, you and me, were in a room. It was a strange room, all white with no windows. We had two chairs. We were sitting next to each other, waiting for something. I don’t know what we were waiting for, but we were waiting for something. I couldn’t look right at you, directly at you. I could only look at you out of the corner of my eye. If I looked right at you, you would disappear. I could only see you out of the corner of my eye.”

“Maybe it wasn’t me, then.”

She sniffled. “It was you. The room had a humidifier.”

Charlie didn’t say anything.

“How do you know if a marriage is over?” she asked. “How do you know for sure? Do you have to decide, does something have to happen, or do you just know?”

“Our marriage isn’t over,” he said.

“I’ve known you since I was a teenager, do you know that, Charlie? I was just a girl.”

“Go back to your room now, please. It’s late, it’s really late.”

“I know. Don’t hang up yet. Can you not hang up yet? I don’t want to sleep. I want to sit here and be out here. Can you do that for me?”

“Donna.”

“Please?”

He took a breath and let the air seep out of him. “Okay,” he softy said. “Sure.” He switched the phone over to his other ear, closed his eyes, and listened to his wife cry, a thousand miles away.

Four days later, with the swelling in his face gone, the bump on his forehead shrinking, and his prosthesis fairly well broken in, he returned to Rogers & Newman. When Ned saw him in the hallway, he reacted as if Charlie were a just-released prisoner of war.

“Charlie! Charlie!” He bounded toward Charlie, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, Lassie-like. Charlie backed away, fearing he might try to lick his face. “How are you?” he asked. Ned was clutching a huge hardcover book.

“Fine.” Charlie made a deliberate effort to keep his mouth closed. He didn’t have much confidence in the prosthesis, which still felt very foreign.

“You don’t look well. Your face is all red.” Ned pointed. “This side. And your eye. Do you have a black eye?”

“I’m fine.” Charlie headed down the hallway in search of an available office.

Ned followed. “Do you have a minute?”

Charlie found an office across from the copy room and dropped his briefcase onto the desk. Ned slipped in behind him.

“First, and most importantly, are you
really
all right? Really, now?” Ned asked. He placed the book down on the desk:
A History of the English-Speaking Peoples
, by Winston Churchill.

“I’m super.”

“Super.” Ned winked and pointed. “You’re being sarcastic now, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Charlie sat down behind the desk.

Ned winked and pointed again. “See, I’m getting good at detecting that.”

“Then I’ve done my job.” Despite himself, Charlie was almost happy to see Ned. Over the past few days, he hadn’t seen or talked to anyone but Kyle, and then it was only snatches of conversation. “What’s with the book?” he asked.

“Oh, this.” Ned picked it up. “It’s for my book club. It was my turn, so I decided on a selection.”

“So you picked Churchill’s latest?”

“Right. I think most Americans are very ignorant about European history, so I thought it a good choice. I am distantly related to him, you know.” He raised his chin high and looked very British when he said this.

“Really.”

“Yes. Very, very distantly. But I am. I mean, I can verify it.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Ned lowered his chin and became Ned again. “Anyway, how are things on the home front? I know it’s none of my business, but in regards to your spouse, how are things holding up? I know I shouldn’t pry, and I really don’t mean to, but I feel involved now.”

Charlie had a sudden impulse to tell Ned everything about Donna and her leaving. But he fought back the urge. He barely knew the man. “Everything’s fine,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? This can be a very stressful time for families. If you would like, I would be happy to meet with you and your wife. I do that sometimes. I can discuss the job-search process, offer some tips on getting by on a budget, things like that.” He squinted at Charlie. “Do you have a bump over your eyebrow?” He stepped forward and pointed. “Right there.”

Charlie ducked his head, opened his briefcase, and began to empty it. “We’ll be okay,” he said. “But thanks for the offer.” The office had a faint odor of cold cuts, salami in particular. He sniffed. “This place smells,” he said.

“It’s from the deli downstairs. We have an air vent problem. They can never get it right. Some days it’s fine, others, it’s horrible. This office seems to get it the worst.”

“We’re fifty floors up from that deli.”

“That’s just the way it is. It shoots straight up here, it seems. Anyway, I want to tell you about a conference I think you should attend. It’s opening this afternoon over at McCormick Place. It’s a job fair. I’m encouraging all my clients to go. It’s really excellent. I go every year.”

“I don’t think today is a good day.” Charlie turned on his computer.

“It’s not your typical job fair. It’s for entrepreneurs. It’s called Living the Dream.”

He waited for a reaction from Charlie. Charlie had none.

“Yes, well. It’s designed for people who want to own their own businesses. Franchises, hotels, Internet companies, convenience stores. There are all sorts of business opportunities out there, all sorts of them. Many people in your situation, former executives, realize that they don’t want to go back to corporations. What they really want is their independence. I know of one client, a former banking executive, who ended up buying a quick-oil-change shop. Can you imagine that? He’s doing really quite well at it. I had my oil changed there not too long ago and he seemed extremely happy. He changed my oil personally.”

“Living the dream.”

“You never know. It’s certainly worth some investigation. There are all sorts of advantages to being your own boss.”

“Thank you, but I have no interest in changing oil for a living, okay? I’m in advertising. That’s what I do.”

“I wish you would consider it. You, Walter, and I can head over there this afternoon. I’ll even drive. We’ll leave after lunch. Maybe we’ll get Bradley to come. The four amigos.”

“Fine. I’ll think about it,” Charlie said, though he had no intention of going or being part of the four amigos.

“Excellent!” Ned smiled, snapped his fingers. “And how’s that résumé coming along?”

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“May I see it?”

“No.”

This disappointed Ned. “Well, maybe later, then. And how is your networking tree?”

Charlie stared at his still-blank computer screen. His initial happiness over seeing Ned was disintegrating. He did not appreciate being pestered by a man who today, he just now noticed, was wearing white socks with his Hush Puppies. “That’s fine too,” he said.

Ned suspiciously considered this response. He cocked his head to the side and studied Charlie with one knowing eye. “Is it really, now?”

“Yes, it is.” Charlie entered his password and logged on. “Now, if you don’t mind.”

Ned sighed and bowed. “Of course. Of course.”

Rather than work on his résumé, Charlie actually did decide to construct his version of a networking tree—a list of people he knew in advertising or related marketing fields. He included everyone—account people, secretaries, former clients, former vendors—whom he thought he could call for help. He then placed an asterisk before those with whom he had a good relationship; two asterisks before the names of people with whom he thought he had an excellent relationship; and three after people with whom he felt he had a “super” relationship. In the end, his tree listed a hundred and eight people: sixty-three with one asterisk, twenty with two, and twenty-five with three.

He decided to focus his primary efforts on the super-relationship people, those he believed genuinely liked him and would help at all costs. He reviewed this list carefully, and made more changes, demoting nine people from the super list to semi-super status. He then studied this newly created “Super Sixteen”: