TWENTY-THREE

JESSE

After orientation we are assigned desks, or cubicles, rather, which give the illusion of privacy, but in reality it’s noisy, with half of the room on the telephone at any given time and people walking back and forth, dropping by to say hello. Flatscreen televisions hang from the ceiling, positioned every ten feet from each other, each with its own channel running on mute—captions scrolling across the bottom of the screens. All of the major business channels are on, domestic and foreign. The Board of Trade and New York Stock Exchange are running in real time, so is the news from the international markets.

Technically, our training period hasn’t ended. Training runs through the entire internship, with periodic workshops and team sessions, but we’ve been assigned a group of pretend portfolios to manage to see how we perform.

I haven’t made my space home or anything—some of the interns have brought in plants and personalized office supplies—but I only tacked up a few photos of Nolan, including the one Claire sent when she thanked me for the blankets and stuffed bear Hans pieced together from Sean’s old clothes. The bear was made from his blue and green flannel shirt, and in the picture Nolan is hugging it close to his chest, smiling. And while she thanked me profusely for the gift when we video chatted, I could sense something “off” about her—something going on in the background that I wasn’t privy to. I wanted to ask her about it, but Nolan dominated the chat. I texted her the following day, asking if everything was all right, and she said things were fine, so I put my phone away and left it at that.

“Dude, I added Micron to one of my portfolios last week, and it’s already doubled its value,” Ryan, another intern in my class stops at my cubicle to tell me. I knew, of course. He’d already made one round with the news. I overheard him talking to Ramon about it.

“That’s awesome,” I say, mustering the appropriate amount of perceived enthusiasm.

“You know they’re going to offer full-time positions to some of us at the end of our six months, right?”

“I heard about the possibility.”

“Man, if I can make a few more decisions like this. . . .” He trails off, seeming to realize that I, as part of his class, am considered competition. “How are your portfolios looking?”

“Pretty good,” I say. “I’m keeping an eye on Cenbrex right now.”

“What’s that?”

“Pharmaceutical company. It’s the right size and revenue stream to merge with Pfizer or Merck.”

“Are people talking about it?”

“It was mentioned last week in passing, but things are mostly quiet.”

“I don’t know, dude. Sounds like a hunch. You know how big they are on evidenced-based investments here.”

“Could be,” I agree.

Just then Emily, another intern, pauses at my desk. “Oh my gosh, Jesse. He is so cute!” She leans in to study the pictures tacked to my cubicle.

“My nephew, Nolan,” I say, leaning back in my chair, happy for the distraction. “He’s turning four in a few weeks.”

“He is adorable,” she says.

“Thanks. I think so, too. He’s super smart.”

“Hey, is that your sister-in-law?” Ryan asks, peering closer at a photo of Nolan and Claire I’d snapped on one of our walks together.

“That’s Nolan’s mom, yes.”

“Man. She is a babe. How is she old enough to have a kid?”

“Emily, how do you feel about Cenbrex?” I ask, changing the subject.

“I haven’t even heard of it, to be honest.”

“Small pharma. Jesse’s thinking they’re primed for a merger,” Ryan says.

“Seems risky.”

I agree with them both. It does seem risky, but since we’re not playing with real money, I don’t see why at least one of my portfolios shouldn’t invest. Growth has been small but steady. So I spend a few days sifting through press releases and articles going back five years, trying to learn everything I can about the company. . . .

Then I take the plunge.

* * *

On Friday Lynette calls. We have town council approval.

On Saturday I video chat with Nolan.

“Check this out,” I say, holding up a five-inch Spiderman figurine to show him. “I picked him up at the store this week.”

“Cool!”

“Yeah. I decided I could use a friend while I was here, so he’s been going everywhere with me. You can watch what he’s up to by going to this link.” I type the URL leading to a shared file in the chat box. Four photos—with captions—are already uploaded.

“Let’s see what Spiderman and Jesse have been doing this week,” Claire says. She focuses on the screen, clicking the links and opening the files. Their faces brighten at the same time. “Look, Nolan! Time for breakfast.” That’s the one of Spiderman standing between a muffin and my coffee. “Working hard,” she continues. Spiderman in front of my computer keyboard. Spiderman holding my toothbrush, getting ready for bed, and another tucked under a blanket.

“Wow! It looks like Spiderman does everything you do!” Claire tells Nolan. “These are so cute, Jesse.”

“Are you going to post more?” Nolan asks.

“I’ll upload one new one for you every day. How does that sound?”

“So maybe we can check before bedtime and know what Jesse and Spidey have been up to that day,” Claire suggests.

“I miss you, Uncle Jesse.”

My chest tightens. “I miss you, too, little man. I have your photos everywhere, though, so it’s like you’re always with me. The girls at work think you’re handsome. They’re always stopping by to check you out and ask about you.”

“I keep our dinosaur museum photo by my bed,” Nolan says.

“See? So I’m still with you, even if I’m not there.”

“When can I see you again?”

“I’m not sure, yet.”

“Jesse is still trying to get settled, Nolan,” Claire explains. “But maybe soon.”

“I’m starting a new school,” he says.

“I know. I’m excited for you,” I tell him.

“It’s going to be hard. I have to wear a uniform.” Nolan was accepted into the four-year-old class at one of the private schools. A half-day pre-Kindergarten program.

“Are you kidding? You’re going to be great.”

“I don’t know.”

“What day do you start?” I ask.

“Next Wednesday,” Claire tells me.

“So what if we have an unscheduled video chat Tuesday night? We can talk about your first day. I can give you some tips and tricks, and on Wednesday you can tell me all about your amazing first day.”

“Okay,” he says.

“Yeah,” Claire agrees. “That would be fun.”

It’s nearing time for Nolan’s bath, so he tells me goodbye and Claire runs him off to go pick out his pajamas, but she doesn’t end our call.

“Thank you, Jesse,” she says as soon as he’s out of earshot.

“It’s not a big deal. One extra chat. I mean, I remember how nervous I was starting a new school year. Junior high. High school. College. My internship.”

She smiles, rests her chin on her hand. “It never ends, does it?”

“No. It doesn’t.”

“Seriously, though. The Spiderman thing is brilliant. He’s going to love seeing something from you every day.”

“It’s not a problem. It’s fun, actually. Minus the crazy looks I get when I try to make Spiderman hold a muffin, like I’m twenty-two years old and still playing with my food.”

“He needs the bite-sized muffins.”

I laugh. “Yeah. I’ll have to look for those next time I’m in the store. Can’t have Spidey going hungry,” I say. And then, after a few quiet moments: “How are you?”

“Fine. Good, I guess,” she replies, seeming uncertain.

“You guess? How’s work?” I press.

“Oh, you know, one crisis after another. I have a couple who wants a very rare, very specific French wine, and the distributor is refusing to export the amount we need. I had to hire a translator to work this deal out, and I’m about ready at this point to fly over there and pick up the cases myself.”

“The French are very particular about their wine,” I say.

She smiles. “Apparently.”

“Everything else okay?”

“Yeah. We had another follow-up with the doctor. She said Nolan’s hand healed perfectly. All the stitches are dissolved, so he’s good to go.”

“That’s great news!”

“Yeah, and I got an A on my project, so thank you for letting me use your house.”

“You’re welcome.”

Her eyebrows furrow at this. “What happened with the sale, anyway? Nolan and I walked by a couple of weeks ago and the sign had been taken down, but there was never any sale pending or sold notice, and no one has moved in.”

“The sale fell through,” I say easily. It isn’t a complete lie. The sale did fall through. On my end.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay. I’m just . . . re-grouping right now. So how is school for you? When does the new session start?” I say, changing the subject. I don’t want to tell her what’s happening, yet—or what might be happening. I want this—Bryant Hall—to be a surprise. If Lynette and I can make it happen.

“Same week as Nolan, but I, um, didn’t register for any classes this term.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I talked it over with . . . a friend and I, um, decided I’ve been stretched a bit thin, lately, so I spoke to my adviser. I’m going to sign up for something in session two, but that won’t start until October. I’m taking a little breather. Re-grouping too, I guess.”

“That’s good news,” I say.

“It is. I can focus on Nolan starting school and work. I hate that it’s going to push back graduation, but. . . .” She trails off, leaving the rest unsaid.

“There’s no rush,” I remind her. “We’re all on our own timelines.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m trying to keep that in mind.”

Nolan shouts something from the other room. “Just a minute!” she calls back. Then, to me: “I should go.”

“It was good talking to you,” I say.

She smiles. “It was good talking to you, too. Can’t wait to see what Spiderman is up to tomorrow.”

“Those crazy superheroes. You just never know.”

Her smile widens. “Bye, Jesse.”

“Goodnight, Claire.”

The following morning I keep my eyes peeled on my way to work, searching for the best photo location for Spiderman. I settle on the crosswalk sign, adjusting his arms so his hands are on his hips, and place him on top of the yellow box. The red DON’T WALK glows beneath him. I caption it: When Spiderman speaks, everyone listens.

The next day I capture him with his fist on the copy machine at work. I add a lot of little symbols and then: Even Spiderman gets frustrated.

The next day he is on my windowsill, looking out across the city. Missing You.