When I got back to the office, Mel left a note saying she’d gone out for lunch and errands. We rarely had lunch together, and today wouldn’t be any different. I wanted one last Korean rice bowl called a bibimbap from the hidden away deli downstairs.
I checked my emails and had a message from MAX, the travel agency. I held my breath in anticipation and opened it while praying for good news. They acknowledged the receipt of my questionnaire and thanked me for answering all their questions.
“Yeah, they sure better appreciate it, all hundred.” I stifled a yawn remembering how long it took.
Their email suggested a November two-week cruise on a clipper from Panama to the Caribbean and said I just missed a four-week repositioning cruise from Europe to the Caribbean. But I’d read about those cruises last night, so this was disappointing.
The travel agency’s email continued, “If you wait until April, there would be plenty of cruises that meet your criteria.”
But no, I wanted to go now. I had to go now. Next year I’d be trapped at work and may not even get a vacation. The end of the year was dead. The worst time to hunt for a job.
In closing, the email said, “We are investigating other possibilities on private, smaller ships not available through standard web searches and will be in touch when we have other leads.”
At least they were still looking, and I wasn’t giving up either.
The balloon bouquet strings dangled right over my desk distracting me, so I pulled them over to the corner of our office out of the way. But the big red ‘Miss You’ balloon broke loose from its string and floated up to the ceiling out of reach.
“Great, now what?” I said. I couldn’t leave it there since the office had to be left empty.
I moved my chair under the balloon and stood on it, but I still couldn’t reach it. It was closer to Mel’s desk, so I took my shoes off and climbed on top. I stretched my arms as far as possible and could almost touch it. But I was in a precarious position angled over the edge of her desk.
A man called out, “Careful,” breaking my concentration.
I ignored whoever it was since I was so close. His hands grabbed right above my knees holding my legs stable. With his support, I leaned further and grabbed hold of the end of the runaway balloon.
The man’s hands were still touching my jeans. He wore an expensive business suit, so he wasn’t someone that worked in this building or neighborhood. His hair was light brown, not gray, so it wasn’t Greg. He looked up at me smiling, and then I knew.
“You! What are you doing here?” I almost let loose of the balloon when I realized it was Charlie. But I held on and climbed down from the desk keeping my distance.
“I came to see you. You never called me back, and I only got that one text. I’ve been worried about you.”
Charlie picked the broken string off the floor and reached out for the balloon. Still in shock, I handed it to him. He tied it back together and guided it over to the others. Then he ambled towards me.
“Well, I’m fine. Thanks for your help with the balloon. And for the flowers.” I moved to stand behind my desk for safety.
But learning from my mistakes and what happened before I asked, “You didn’t make a videotape, did you?”
“No, Kat, please, I wouldn’t do that to you. I spoke with Kristin, and she deleted it. She is sorry and sends her apologies too. I want to explain. I was an awful date Friday, and you were fully justified in being angry and doing what you did.”
I glared at him not willing to believe a word of it.
He smiled and lifted his hands up as if showing me he had no weapon, was surrendering, and meant me no harm. “Kat, can I please buy you lunch and explain?”
“I have lunch plans already.” It was a half lie, but I didn’t want to be trapped in a restaurant again after Friday’s fiasco. And I did have plans - take out from the Korean deli.
“Okay. But can I please have five minutes of your time to explain?”
Charlie looked sincere, but Friday night started out okay too. Against my better judgment, I motioned for him to sit. I sat behind my desk and opened the drawer to look for my letter opener, the only weapon at my disposal. But it was packed in a box on the floor and out of reach. He sat on a chair sideways as if he didn’t feel comfortable on that side of the desk. I was curious to hear what lame excuse he dreamed up for his miserable behavior.
He cleared his throat. “Friday morning, I lost a major deal with a client. It would have been a huge win, not just for my team, but the entire company. Deals have been slow all year and were coming back in the fourth quarter. On top of that, I spent the afternoon at my attorney’s office and blew up over my divorce. We had a conference call with my ex and her lawyer. They keep demanding, not just every cent I have, but everything I ever made. She’s already spent most of it, and she was the one who had an affair and left me.”
I listened to his rant and let him blow off steam. He was livid while retelling it. But he shouldn’t have bothered coming over to tell me this. We were incompatible. After meeting Greg and Matteo, two easy-going men, I’d come to a decision. I should avoid all Wall Street guys.
Charlie shifted in his chair as if he was in some discomfort. “I planned to power through our date. I didn’t want to reschedule a third time for God knows when. Next year sometime? To unwind, I had a few drinks. I was nervous about meeting the infamous Kathryn Jensen. At the restaurant, you looked so self-assured and beautiful. And, with the culmination of everything that day, I turned into a jerk, a real asshole. So, I sincerely apologize. I deserved much worse than the water you threw at me.”
I was still mulling over what he said earlier. “You’re still married?” Shocked that I dated someone still legally committed to someone else.
“Technically yes, but we’ve been separated for over a year. Our divorce attorneys keep getting richer, so they are in no hurry to end this. That’s her game. Wear me down and get everything.”
Well, this was a surprise. My girlfriend assured me he was single and not in a relationship. I’d been propositioned by married men, even when they knew I was married. But that was a line I’d never cross.
My stomach started to growl since I hadn’t eaten anything today, and it was almost one. Where was Mel when you need her? When she figured out who Charlie was, he would be tossed out on his rear. I smiled thinking about it, but the timing was terrible.
“Is that a smile I see? Have you forgiven me?”
“Nope, not exactly. But I did want to know what you meant by the colors of the roses.”
“Well, the white roses are for peace. I’m sorry about how our date turned out. The yellow roses are for you, for Texas. Linked-In said you are a University of Texas grad, one of the reasons I wanted to meet you. And the third, red, is from the bottom of my heart.”
He touched his chest or where most people have a heart. But his must be black, and I nearly told him so.
“Why did you want to go out with someone from Texas?” I tried to remember what his on-line bio said, but I’d skimmed it months ago. I had the impression he was an East Coast Ivy League guy and not from Texas.
“I’m from Wyoming. I got my MBA from Harvard but grew up fifty miles west of Cheyenne on a cattle ranch. So, I’m an outsider too. And my real name isn’t Charles Richmond.”
I looked at him in surprise. He reached out to shake hands, and I instinctively took his hand to shake it.
“I’m Travis Rich, Kat. Pleased to meet you.” He stood and bowed as if taking off an imaginary cowboy hat. His voice changed to what must be his real accent from Wyoming. Different from a Texan accent. Soft with a smooth, slight twang.
He added, “No one at work knows this. I’d like to keep it that way, Kat. Charles Richmond is my legal name now.” He smiled. “I’d like to try again, Kat, if you will. And you can call me Charlie, or Trav, like my friends back home.”
“But why?”
“Because I like you. You are so much like me. I know you don’t think so. But despite our bad start, I believe we have a chance.”
“No, I meant why did you change your name?” I shook my head not wanting to consider the possibility that he was anything like me. I’d never been to Wyoming and grew up in the suburbs of San Antonio, not on a cattle ranch.
“When I applied for Harvard, my friend’s father was an alum, and he helped me with my paperwork. He said my name would make me stick out. To be ‘in the game,’ he said it’d be better to have a less country sounding name. So, I took Charles from the Prince of Wales and switched ‘Rich’ to ‘Richmond,’ the original spelling of our name before it was shortened.”
My cell phone buzzed breaking my trance. The caller was Amber with the travel agency, so I answered immediately.
She got right to the point. “We found a cruise that might interest you. But there is only one cabin left, so we need to know soon. It’s significantly discounted and could disappear at any minute.” She gave me more details, and I jotted them down.
While I did this, I looked over at Charlie, or Travis, whoever he was. He was checking his phone for messages. Then he walked into our conference room. I told Amber I’d get back to her soon and hung up radiating with hope. So much so, I might glow in the dark.
I went to see what Charlie was up to in the conference room and found him looking at our collection of eclectic art prints that used to be up on the walls. I’d considered giving them away after Mel picked out her favorites. But at my next job, I’ll need something pleasant to look at instead of ugly walls. We’d selected a weird mix of modern and impressionist art to cover the boring off-white walls.
“Is that a Frida Kahlo, the wife of Diego Rivera?” Charlie asked. I nodded.
Charlie lifted the reproduction print to look more closely at Frida’s self-portrait. She wore a necklace of thorns with a black monkey and cat on each shoulder. When discouraged, I only had to look at Frida and remember all she went through - polio, a trolley accident, medical issues, a philandering husband, and even having her leg amputated. Nothing I went through came anywhere close. All her suffering somehow gave me the strength to continue.
“I work in Rockefeller Center. They removed his mural since it was too leftist with Lenin in it.”
“Yeah, the idiots. They destroyed it. A real shame.”
He wanted to see the other prints laying underneath, so I flipped through the others to show him. Andy Warhol’s Green Cat, Picasso’s Woman by the Window, Danish impressionist P.S. Krøyer’s Summer Evening on Skagen's Beach, and a few others.
“I’m hungry,” I said. Charlie wasn’t so threatening anymore, so what the hell I’d invite him. “I’m going to get take-out bibimbap from a deli downstairs. If you want to join me, you can, but it’s not for everyone.” I wanted to stress that also applied to me.
“Sure. I’m game. Haven’t had that before.”
He followed me to the elevator. I whispered Trav, his name, to hear it out loud as the elevator doors closed.
I was quiet, but he heard me. “I knew you’d like my real name.”
“And you made it all up too, didn’t you?” His story was some joke to insult or get back at me.
“Would I do that? I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Not that much imagination, I’m afraid.”
“I’d rather call you Charlie.”
He nodded and waited for me to say something.
“Why did you leave Wyoming?”
“It wasn’t easy. My family is still there. But I didn’t want to be a rancher like my father and his father generations back. I liked the cowboy part, riding horses, and managing the ranch, but not the slaughter. I’m not a vegetarian, but I couldn’t deal with all the killing.”
We entered the deli, and I explained what bibimbap was showing him the photos on the wall and describing how good they taste. He said he would have whatever I was having. I ordered two standard beef bibimbap bowls of white rice topped with cooked veggies, peppers, seasonings, and a fried egg.
Charlie insisted on paying and gave my Korean friend, the cashier, a very generous tip, so at least someone was won over and fond of him.
While we were waiting for our take-out, Charlie asked, “Do you remember Peter Demler or Thomas Harrington? They’re pals of mine. You audited their group at Barnaby Bank years ago.”
“Nope, sorry. Don’t remember them.”
“Oh, it’s just as well. They said your audit report was accurate and all. But it cost their manager his job. With so many issues, he looked incompetent to senior management.”
“I’m sorry. Most of the time some training will solve the problems if it’s a staff-related issue. The real culprits typically have someone else take the fall. Why did you ask?”
“Oh, nothing. Another reason I was apprehensive about meeting you last Friday. I usually don’t drink so much. The hangover was extreme. One of the worst.”
I hadn’t considered my internal audit work was scaring off potential dates. Were other men afraid of me too? Greg and Matteo weren’t, but I wouldn’t audit their firms either. And they’d probably never met an internal auditor before.
Our bibimbap was ready, and we headed back to the elevator. I was sad knowing how much would change after today. I’d miss all the friendly people like the staff at the Korean deli and the guys in the lobby.
Charlie must have noticed. “So, Kat, what are you planning to do next? I know a lot of people and can make some calls if it would help. Just not to Pete or Tom.”
“No, thanks. I’m going to look for another job in January. I’m taking the rest of the year off. That call was about a cruise I might go on.”
The door to my office was slightly open, so Mel was back. I dreaded their meeting and what she would say to him. Her tongue had hidden barbs that could lash out and cause deep wounds. I’d seen it before, and it wasn’t pretty. I was tempted to suggest eating outside, but it wasn’t that warm, and there weren’t any parks in the vicinity. I inhaled deep for bravery and pushed open the door. Mel stood next to Greg, and they both stared back at us.