A Beautiful Day

Mr. Peter Smith looked at the clock above the desk and smiled. After twenty-five years on the job, he was happy to look at the last moment of his working life ticking away. Insurance was an interesting world for him; not that his wife and friends would think so; not that certain colleagues in his office would believe it. Most of them thought that he was overjoyed at facing retirement, rest, and Mondays without a long commute. Mr. Peter Smith smiled at the clock as it ticked over into five p.m. The same white numbers in those same black squares for all those years now informed him: he was now done.

*

The boxes were packed and most of the main staff was already heading out. The party for him the previous week was nice, but Peter wondered what kind of memories would be carried by them once he was gone. Some old faces were going to hang around for a little while longer; others were long gone, for one reason or another.

One reason or another? He was not sure what some of them would think of such a weak statement.

He was, of course, thinking about Diana Merrin.

And by thinking about Diana, he was also thinking about Charles.

It was still funny to think of those names and how they met. She joined the firm about ten years into his career. There were late nights, too much coffee, too much weekend work, a lot of possibilities…and nothing much else. He had not met his wife and Laura would not have believed it. So there was never anything to share. There were only a few memories of close quarters and pleasant mornings with no guilt.

And then there was Charles.

On paper, it was a perfect match. He was thinking about that now, and how he somehow got to see Mr. Regan’s CV before most of the staff had any details to process. Good school, good grades, blah, blah, blah. What Peter liked were his hobbies: fishing, reading, and even boxing. It was the sweet science and Peter had tried his hand at it when he was younger, and then meeting Charles made it clear that he was something more than just a grade-point average and diplomas. There were more long weekends, late nights, but also plenty of drinks, laughs, and BS to share when they were not processing forms.

“So, you and Diana?”

He had noticed. Peter was not sure who else was aware of it, but he trusted Charles by that point. Why not open up about this?

“It was a brief thing… Nothing clicked.”

“Well, something must have clicked.”

They were both on their first after-work beers, so neither was drunk enough for the conversation they were about to have.

“Nothing. Not a thing. In all honesty, I think I bored her. We figured it was probably better to be friends.”

“Friends… After sex, no way. Does not work.” He finished the glass and signaled the girl at the end of the bar for another. “She must still feel something for you.”

“Not a chance.” He stared at his bottle. “No way.”

Charles picked up the mug, staring intently at the girl walking away.

“No problem. Think about finding someone else…”

“If it happens, it happens.”

“Not if you do nothing about it.” He took a pull on his pale ale.

They really were not that drunk.

“Well, I’ll tell you this: if you want an intro…you got it.”

Charles looked back.

“For real?” He was really enjoying that drink.

“Why not? I’ll put in a word for the boxer and see what she says.”

“Ha, ha. Nice one.”

“No, really.” Peter put the bottle down. “She’s all yours.”

“Well…,” Charles thought, “me and Diana. Charles and Diana. That’s gonna be the joke of the year if we end up together…”

Peter had not thought of that at the time. He had also not thought much about what he said earlier: She’s all yours. She’s all yours? Was he handing her over to some co-worker? Was she a gift?

“Not something I’d really worry about. You ever talk to her?”

Charles stared at the girl again. “Not really.”

“Well then, we have a plan.”

They did clink their glass and bottle, and then ordered another round.

*

Peter remembered that. He remembered speaking to Diana later in the week about the new guy and how he was single, a nice guy, and even a former boxer.

Yeah, boxer…

She was intrigued enough to go out with him. She was devoted enough to avoid all the jokes about their names when that became too obvious to avoid (John Mellencamp and the British royal family had a lot to answer for, he had thought). They even managed to stay together when the worst sort of rumours began to spread…

Peter had met the woman he would soon marry and love for the rest of his life. They had their own plans and things were good. Why would he be following any sort of office gossip that never existed before?

Maybe he should have…

The only box left was easy to carry. All the others had been moved out over the last few weeks and no one even blinked. They probably just thought he was getting ready for the big day. And the clock?

Well, they wouldn’t give a damn now…

Most of the main staff was gone because there was nothing they could do about what happened. Diana and Charles; Charles and Diana… They were drama for several weeks; several weeks of beatings covered up by long-sleeved shirts and too much make-up; fights and firings and discoveries of too much information in the hands of the wrong people; background checks that did not check out; reputations destroyed.

And a company that was about to fall.

Mr. Smith walked to his car in the bright afternoon glow. His private spot still had his name on the hot asphalt; the space had very few cars he recognized.

Was he innocent in this? Would things have been different if he…?

No point thinking about these things now…

Peter sat behind the wheel and stared off at the exit and the growing rush hour traffic.

It was a beautiful day.