Walking the Plank

SJ, as she called herself, not Sarah Jane, as christened, finished working on the bank of computers in the Georgia Community Center Library. 

“All done. You shouldn’t have any trouble,” she told the librarian, an older woman with anxious gray eyes.

“Thank you for coming.” The librarian fidgeted with the pen in her hand. “Ah,… I’d feel better if you wouldn’t mind sitting with me while I log in and check the system?” 

SJ felt the woman’s gray eyes wavering on her and forced a smile. Check, her supervisor had warned her not to expect the promotion until she’d improved her PR skills. 

The librarian sighed when SJ nodded. 

They sat down, and SJ tried to distract herself from the snail crawl of the librarian’s fingers on the keyboard. Heavy-duty vehicles sounded like they were encircling the library. 

“Oh, the city workers are setting up. They’ll be digging up the front.” 

Just focus, woman. SJ seethed. Another twenty minutes passed before she escaped the library. Stepping outside, she pushed her hair back from blowing across her face. Rain splashed over the eaves onto her head. She dashed, thinking of her umbrella in the car. 

 A large ‘Detour’ sign and orange cones blocked the pedestrian walkway. She followed the detour around the backside of the building. Board planks stretched out along the muddy ground to the road. 

This was ridiculous. Glad she’d worn low heels with a broad base, she stepped onto the first plank. It squished down with her weight. As she took a step, the plank shifted and hydroplaned. She stuck out her arms, one hanging onto her briefcase and the other onto her purse. The balancing reminded her of childhood, walking carefully, not wanting her arguing parents to notice her, before she escaped into the sanctuary of her room.

She felt eyes on her from the field, and kiltered a moment before she regained her balance, and forced herself to keep going. Men’s baseball, she’d seen on the white board schedule in the community center. The pitcher was staring at her. Wavy reddish brown hair with a tan. Typical jock, or a Peter Pan who never had to grow up, the type who wears a sport tee-shirt on dates. 

She lowered her arms, aware of looking ridiculous, teetering with her arms out for balance. One step in front of the other, she told herself, making her way along the planks toward terra firma, trying to ignore the ball players. At last, she stepped off the last plank and through the opening in the chain-link fence. Cheers and clapping erupted from the field. The pitcher smiled and waved. She half smiled, then frowned and walked on. So she’d been their entertainment. Now it was over, and she could go home. 

Never again would she respond to a call to service computers at that library. She knew it shouldn’t bother her, but she felt uncomfortable with that pitcher, the way he’d looked at her. She kept seeing him in her mind, and despite drinking an extra glass of wine with her dinner, there was something in his gaze that disturbed her. Stop being weird. He’s your opposite, she told herself.

 She poured another glass of wine after dinner and turned the television on. Outdoorsy, she wasn’t, but she had a black belt in Karate, and as a computer technician, she could geek talk with the best, and she was out of league for overgrown ball players.

…

In the morning, at the office, Check, her supervisor held up his pale freckled hands. “Do I need to remind you again of the many complaints we’ve had regarding your poor customer relations?”

“I’m a computer tech, not a damn social worker. Why do they expect me to hold their hand? “

He gave her a leveling look. 

She bit her tongue and left. For the next few hours, she handled calls from several of the civic organizations her business served, grateful most of her jobs were on-line. Then, the shadow of Check loomed above her monitors. She kept working, hoping he’d go away. 

She looked up. He stood like a silly scarecrow, with his red hair straggled and his long arms akimbo. 

“Hmm?” she blinked. 

“I got a call from the Van Hydro office.”

She put her present caller on hold. “What now? I just helped them half an hour ago. Surely they didn’t screw it up already?” 

“Nathan Barrows is asking that you come over.”

“Who?”

“He’s on my baseball team.”

“You? A children’s ball game?” 

“Team sports. Something you could learn.”

“I see. He’s a buddy of yours.” Better not be one of those guys from yesterday.

“SJ, I’ve warned you. I expect congenial behavior.”

She made a vulgar sign behind his back as he walked away. “If there’s a bloody plank, you won’t hear the end,” she called after him.

“Just go.”

Twenty minutes later she was waiting inside the large entrance hall of Van Hydro, where a canoe of all things hung down from the ceiling, and the wall with blue tile rising in waves patterns met with narrow wood slats that stretched up to the cathedral ceiling. 

A moment later, none other than the pitcher showed up, wearing a football tee-shirt. Her stomach rose to her chest, and she fought to stay calm. 

“Nathan,” he offered his hand.

She hesitated a second, then hearing Check in her mind, shook it, noticing the analogue watch face and leather band. 

“SJ,” she mumbled.

“Don’t worry. You’re not walking a plank here.”

Her brows lowered.

 “Sorry, but you have the same look; you had walking over those planks yesterday, focused, like I know what I’m doing. Don’t get in my way…” 

“Company time,” SJ stretched her lips in a smile and tapped her own smart watch. If Check and this jock were manipulating her… er… just be civil and get through this… you can do it… one step at a time. 

He picked up a large, dark brown coffee mug from his desk. The coffee aroma was superior to the machine drip at her office. “Can I get you some?” 

“You’re that pitcher playing outside the Community Center yesterday evening,” she said.

 He nodded. “Coffee?” 

She shook her head. If someone else had offered, she would have accepted. 

“I wanted to assist you yesterday, but I thought you’d be offended.”

“Hmm…” A Sony Walkman was on his desk, with the earphone wire connected. “Does that thing work?”

“You bet. Wanta listen?” He held up the earphone.

“No, thank you.” She jerked her head at the computer. “Show me the problem.”

He pulled up a wheeled office chair for her beside him, and logged in and went through a few screens and then stopped. “Here, see; this function isn’t working.”

Her jaw and her hands at her side clenched. “This could have been resolved by phone,” she said.

He leaned toward her. “So?” 

“So,” she repeated and pushed a few buttons and stood up. “Problem solved. Go in through the main menu, read the options, they’re logical, and stay out of the administrative level, and you’ll be fine.”

Check would hear about this, even if the goof was his buddy. At the office, she could have handled five calls in the time she’d taken to come out here. 

“Hang on, you need to show me what you mean.” 

She put her hands on her hip. “Look, I can see that you’re not into computers, but those menus aren’t technical. They’re for people like you.”

“Blunt, aren’t you? Now I feel like I’m on the plank.”

She fumed, while her smile tightened into a grimace. 

Taking a deep breath, she walked him slowly through the menu functions, despairing the rest of her career would entail hand holding and uttering false sugary words of encouragement. 

 Nathan took his time exploring all the menu pathways. She felt uneasy, denied of her defenses of sarcasm. Ludite, you’re a dying breed and few other choice words she wanted to fling at him, but she couldn’t. 

Nathan smiled, his light brown eyes lighting up with each new window. 

“Er, you’re a bit off track.”

“Oh, I know, but isn’t this fun?”

She nodded. This fellow, with his anachronistic watch and Sony Walkman, wasn’t concerned at all about expediency or achieving a goal. Might as well be in a time warp.

He sipped his coffee. “Isn’t this nice? Just the two of us, hanging out, trail blazing through this program. Are you sure I can’t get your anything? Tea?”

 She faced him. “Not the best use of company time.”

He laughed. “Best use of it, company on company time.” 

“And the baseball, more hanging out?” She arched her eyebrow. 

“I value spending time with others. Baseball is great. All you need is a field, a ball and a bat.”

“Simple pleasures.” She clamped her mouth shut.

“You wanted to add ‘simple minds,” he said with a grin. 

She turned away to cover a blush. She didn’t understand Nathan’s enjoyment of hanging out, least of all at work, but something inside her felt drawn and wanted to relax in his company. 

“Coffee, I’ll have a coffee,” she said.