Your Song (14 page)

A few more email
s left to answer when I hear the familiar ping from my inbox. It’s an email from Raj. I thought he was still on vacation.

From: Rajiv Mistry

Subject: Your email

Date: Monday, June 11, 2012 9:39 A.M.

To: Eric Martin

Hi Eric:

I lied. I am checking my emails from vacation. As great as Los Cabos has been this week, I am ready to come home. I read your email and will call you when I get back. Anything for you.

Raj

My international man of
Mistry is almost home. Do I ever have some work cut out for him when he gets back!
Shit.
I’ll be in Vancouver until the end of the week which means I won’t get to meet up with him until the weekend or early next week at best. I guess this too will have to wait. For the first time in a long time, I really don’t feel like travelling tomorrow.
Shit.
Cate pops her head in the door.

“Eric, I just called Leslie for you and booked your appointment for next Monday at noon. She told me to tell you that if you need to talk while you’re away in Vancouver, to give her a call.” Cate smiles a sympathetic smile and turns to leave.

“Did she really offer to do that?” I ask her.
I’m touched.
Cate walks in closer and stops in front of my desk.

“Yes, she did. And she even asked me how you’re doing,” Cate adds.

“Well, that was unexpected. Very kind of her to offer,” I say.

“She sounds special. I am glad you’re seeing her. You haven’t been yourself in a long time. I hope you don’t mind me saying so.”

“I know. I’ve had a lot going on with me lately. Thanks for booking the appointment.” I really am grateful and I want her to know. Cate takes a few steps towards the door and walks out. Quickly, she pops her head back in.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Leslie told me to tell you the latest Captain Marvel arrived today.  She’s saving it for you.” I smile at the thoughtful reminder. As Cate turns to leave, she bumps into Ro, standing in the doorway.

“Well, look at who we have here. I thought you disappeared off the face of the earth, man.” Ro comes in and takes a seat across from me. He’s right; we haven’t seen each other in ages.

“Good to see you, too. What have you been up to?” I ask.  Looking at Ro sitting across from me, it dawns on me how little I’ve socialized with my friends lately.

“Not too much. Hey, have you seen Amy lately?” he asks. Ro has been friends with Amy since high school. He was in a relationship with one of her best friends for years.

“Actually, I am going to be seeing her later today. She invited me to her thesis defense.” I reply. 

“Oh yeah, I heard about that . . .” Ro’s voice trails off.

“Did Amy tell you she invited me?” I am curious.

“Um . . . no, Ruby told me, actually,” Ro says sheepishly. I’m getting the feeling Ro is keeping something from me. Ruby is his ex-girlfriend and one of Amy’s friends.

“You’re back in touch with Ruby?” I ask him.

“We . . . yeah, we . . . got back together,” Ro looks relieved
and happy
.

“Really? Good for you guys.  Things are going well then?” I ask. I remember how bad things left off when they broke up.

“Much better, thanks. What’s new with you? Travelling anywhere soon?” He asks.
There goes that question again.

“Off to Vancouver tomorrow,” I say wishing I really didn’t have to go.

“Okay, then. I’m taking you to lunch today,” Ro announces as he rises from the chair, making his way out of my office.

“I’ll come by your office at 1:00 P.M. to get you. No excuses,” Ro says and leaves. He closes the door behind him.

With everything I have to do today including leaving early to go to Amy’s defense, I really don’t have time to go to lunch with Ro. It’s 10:00 A.M. already and I’m not even halfway through my to- do list. I glance at my iPhone sitting on my desk and recall the texts I got from Amy and Lara. I stare at my inbox on my computer screen and remember Claudia and Raj’s emails. I look at my office door and am reminded of Cate bringing me an espresso today. I gaze at the phone on my desk and think of Leslie’s offer to call her from Vancouver if I need to talk. I take a glimpse of the empty chair across from my desk and recall Ro’s brief visit checking in on me. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel so alone. I have friends who care about me.

All of a sudden that old Beatles song pops in my head. I think it’s called “With a Little Help from My Friends.” For the
rest of the morning, I hum the song to myself. Screw the to-do list, I decide, I’m going out for lunch with Ro after all.

“I hear they are talking of a buyout. A huge one,” Ro announces, as we are about to bite into our chicken
shwarmas. We are at a small Lebanese restaurant downtown Toronto. Looks like there are a few business lunches in the works here today.

“Really? Already?” I ask. Wells and Fraser are looking to sell the software branch of the company.

“Word on the street has it that they are looking at upwards of 500 million for the sale alone . . .” Ro’s voice trails off as he leans in and takes another bite.
Holy Shit
. Did I just hear him right? If this is true and they sell then that means, I’m . . . set! I’m
fucking set.
As per my contract with Wells and Fraser, I’m owed fifteen per cent of the sale of the company. That’s . . . seventy-five million dollars! This can’t be true. Rumors fly around all the time.

“How are you so sure?” I ask him. Ro has been a software technician for the company for about a year or so now but with his ear to the ground, he has been a valuable resource for information in the short time we’ve had him. If Ro says it, he usually isn’t far off.

Ro begins rattling off the details of the sale as he has heard them. As I’m listening to him as fully as I can, thoughts of my potential windfall distract me. With the money I make, I think of the freedom that will open up to me. A fresh new start could be awaiting me after all. 

“So are you looking forward to seeing Amy today?” Ro asks cutting short my thoughts of a new life ahead of me. I’ve no idea why he is even asking me about Amy.

“I don’t know . . . I guess I’m flattered that she asked me to take part in here defense, but to be honest with you, I have no clue why me.”

“If you’re asking me my opinion . . .
I’ll tell you what I think. Amy wants you back,” Ro says as he sips the last of his beer eyeing me carefully for my reaction.

“What? Are you kidding? She’s heading to France for the summer to play out her fantasies of sipping French men with her French wine. Amy has a lot of growing up to do still. She doesn’t want me back, I can assure you,” I say quite emphatically as I too down the last of my beer.  I glance at my watch. It’s almost 2:00 P.M. and I have to be at the University of Toronto by 4:30 P.M. Time to get back to the office.

“But if she did want you back, would you be interested?” Ro asks me on our short walk back. Automatically, I shake my head. Visions of Caroline’s beautiful face appear in front of me.

“No, not at all,” I say with as much conviction as I have. That door closed a w
hile ago. I hear Leslie’s voice . . .
don’t stop thinking about tomorrow.
The song, now a bona fide earworm stuck in my head, replays and repeats in my head for the rest of the afternoon.

Back at the office, I am caught in a whirlwind of crazy busy chaos for the rest of the afternoon. Phone calls, non-stop emails, two important interruptions from my boss, Cate spinning in and out of my office with travel details and last minute required signatures and all, I am thoroughly stressed and strained to the max. Time flies by so quickly that when I look at my watch and it says 4:25 P.M. already, I yelp.
Shit.
I am going to be late. I stop what I’m doing, grab my jacket off the back of my chair and run out of my office.

“Cate,” I call as I am running out, “I’ll be back later to finish up what I was doing. I have a meeting at U of T right now. Lock my office door before you leave. I’ll see you next week when I get back from Vancouver.”

I’m at the elevator now frantically pushing the down button with one hand and checking that my iPhone is in my breast pocket with my other hand. The elevator doors open and I jump in. There are at least eight other people already on the elevator. I glance at the panel and notice every single floor button is lit up.
Shit.
Now the elevator is going to stop at every fucking floor. More delays. I decide to hail a cab when I get downstairs. There’s no way I am going to make it on time at this point. If I take my car, it’ll only make me more late. Finding parking downtown is the bane of my existence.

Outside, I hail the first cab I see and get in. I tell the driver the address and take a deep breath. Traffic.
Of course.
We inch our way along Yonge Street at a snail’s pace. There’s nothing that bothers me more than being late and here I am, late.
Fuck.
With nothing left to do, I look at my phone and notice a text from Amy from earlier this afternoon.

Can’t wait to see you. Two more hours. Craving dessert.

What the hell . . .
can’t wait to see me
? Since when?
Craving dessert.
Shit. I forgot that I promised to take her out after the defense. I have so much to do before I leave tomorrow. I wonder if she’ll take a rain check? But didn’t she tell me that she’d be leaving for France in a day or two?
Crap.
I glance at my watch again. 4:35 P.M. Damn. The cabbie is inching his way closer to St. Joseph Street, off Bay Street and Wellesley Avenue. I briefly recall the last time I was in a cab and remember Caroline sitting beside me, rattling off in her perfect French. Bliss.

My warm memories are disrupted by the sound of a blaring car horn.
We’re here, thank the heavens. I quickly pass the driver a fifty-dollar bill and leap out of the cab. I start to jog lightly towards the entrance doors, hoping to make myself less late than I already am.

Once inside, I look to the left and then quickly to the right, searching for a clue as to which way is room 139. The halls are pretty quiet except for the odd caretaker pushing her cleaning cart. I turn left and follow the arrows around the building. Absentmindedly, I push my fingers through my hair and then give my black suit jacket a shake. I tighten my tan-colored tie around my white collar and look down at my watch again. 4:41 P.M. Ten minutes late. I hope Amy isn’t pissed. Finally, I find room 139 and the door is closed.
Phew
. I take one of the seats lined up against the wall to the left of the door. I read the sign posted on the door.

Defense thesis

Do not disturb

I breathe a huge sigh of relief. They’re still talking in there. I’ll just sit out here and make it look like I’ve been waiting for 15 minutes. I take another deep breath and pull out my iPhone. I tap into my ‘Notes’ icon and read over the list of questions that I came up with yesterday. Behind the door, I hear people talking with intermittent bouts of laughter in between. Slowly, I begin to relax a bit and my breathing has returned back to normal. Within seconds, I hear the sound of footsteps walking on the other side of the door. Sounds like a pair of high heels to me. Amy is coming to get me. I straighten up and place my iPhone back into my pocket. I hear the doorknob turn and then the door swing open. The first thing I hear is the sound of a woman calling my name.

“Mr. Martin, are you there?” She asks.

I turn my head towards the right and look up.
Holy fuck.
My eyes roll down to the nametag attached to her dress.
Dr. Durand looks me straight in the eye and reaches out her hand to shake mine
.
Dr.
Caroline
Durand, that is. In the flesh.

10 “Baby, What A Big Surprise”

I am paralyzed. Completely. With my jaw surely hitting the floor and my eyes locked on hers, my legs don’t move. Neither do my arms. Instead, it is Caroline who extends her right arm out to me.

“It looks like we meet again, Enrique-but-everyone-calls-me-Eric,” she giggles. My mouth is dry.
She remembered my name. My real name.
There are no words escaping me. I stare right into her radiant hazel eyes and am mesmerized. What probably looks like a half hour for me to reach my hand out to hers, the utter shock I find myself in renders me immobile.
Holy shit, she’s here . . . in front of me.
Neil Diamond all over again. As I reach my hand out to hers, I quickly glance at the four sets of eyes staring at me from inside the room. Amy is frowning. And I am sweating.

“A small world after all,” I say clutching her soft hand in mine without taking my eyes off her.
I am gone.
The electricity I feel between us charges me. I wasn’t mistaken that day at the airport. There is something between us. It feels like we’ve been immediately swept into a bubble, alienated from the world around us. I am lost to this woman standing two feet away from me. She hasn’t stopped smiling at me either.