Chapter 8

Thursday morning, Helga was already talking on her phone as I walked past her desk in the outer office. Her eyebrows raised in question as she saw me, and I gave her a ‘thumbs up’, which she returned. Of course she came in with my coffee a few minutes later, demanding more detail; I told her that it was going well and we had a movie date the next evening. “Don’t forget to call her tonight just to keep in touch!”

“Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll do that just as soon as Max has had his supper.”

Helga grinned as I called her ‘Mom’. “Make sure you do!”

She was about to turn around when I stopped her; “Mom, can I ask you a serious question?”

“Sure, Mike.”

“Mel said last night that I can be ... a little too serious. She took it as far as ‘not quite preachy’. Is that really how I come over?”

My loyal and ever-tactful secretary sighed, “At work, Mike, you DO need to be serious, to project that image of the hard-working, reliable, methodical professional. Your job is all about upholding high standards, never accepting less than the best. You’ve got to be Mister Remorselessly Efficient. Outside the job? I’d agree with Mel, it’s getting harder to unbend you when you aren’t in the office. The job is carrying over into your private life. Even New Year you were stiff and formal until we got some drink into you. You do need to relax a little more, do some whacky things. Be less judgmental. Let your hair down. When did you last catch yourself singing in the shower?”

I thought about that for a minute. “You know, I can’t remember. I don’t even know how Max would react to me singing, so it must have been before he moved in. Mel’s taking me to see ‘Fort Apache’ on the big screen tomorrow night, does that count as whacky?”

Helga chuckled, “It’s way out of character for you, so yes, I approve. Just remember, boss, it’s your turn to suggest the next date. Go and have a day on the beach. Dress down. Eat junk food. Spill ketchup down your shirt. Drink beer at lunchtime. Have some fun.”

That was a great idea. Well, apart from spilling ketchup deliberately; that was just creating work later, though I could see where she was coming from. I grinned my appreciation, “Thanks, Mom, I might just do that.”

I didn’t tell her that I wasn’t actually sure when I’d last been down to the beach; it had to be at least a couple of years, maybe four. That was way too long. I DEFINITELY needed to do something about not getting old and boring before my time.

And it was no surprise that she’d immediately given me her honest opinion to a personal question. She was way more than just my secretary or P.A.; she was also a true friend who’d give me a kick in the pants when I needed one. I’d really lucked out when HR had come up with their off-the-wall scheme to remove the painful historical anomaly where she’d reported to, and been appraised by, her own husband. She also made a damn good cup of coffee!

The first thing I did when I got home – after greeting Max and filling his food and water bowls, of course – was to try his reaction to me singing in the shower. He didn’t look too pained, just put his head on its side questioningly, then went and laid himself down in the bedroom. Okay, that wasn’t too adverse a reaction. I wasn’t sure my bathroom acoustics were quite up to concert hall standards; too much tiling. I hadn’t scared myself; maybe with a few repeat performances I might not feel so self-conscious that I hoped my neighbors hadn’t heard anything through the ventilator grille.

I called my parents at seven that evening, ten in Atlanta. I asked Mom the same question that I’d posed to Helga. Being Mom she too gave me her honest opinion straightaway – that I’d come home for Thanksgiving in ‘business mode’ and it had taken a whole day with the kids before I was back to my normal self, by which time I was about to hop back on a plane. Okay. That confirmed the story.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I did. I told you it was long past time for you to find someone nice and settle down. How are you getting on with that, by the way?”

I hesitated, not wanting to share too much too soon. “There’s a possibility. Early days.”

She chuckled knowingly, “Okay, honey, I’m getting the vibe that you’re not ready to talk about her yet. When you are, I’m on the other end of the phone. Don’t forget?”

Damn, my mother could still read me like a book. “Thanks, Mom, I shan’t.” She updated me on a few other family and hometown things and we finished the conversation.

I sat and thought for a few minutes. It sure sounded like I needed to make a conscious effort not to actually become my work persona 24/7. Learn to shed it like I dropped my suit jacket as soon as I got home from the hospital. Maybe throwing myself 110% into my job as a way of getting over Marsha hadn’t been the best option – though it had been a far better idea than hiding inside a bottle or a constant procession of one-night-stands.

It was now just gone eight; I called Mel on the burner cell, asked her if it was convenient to talk, and we spent the next ninety minutes learning even more about each other and our views on the world. Plenty of humor on both ends of the line. Yup, she was absolutely my sort of person. I began to feel a whole lot better about forking out all that cash to join the dating site; with Mel I was getting awesome value. Even if it didn’t work out romantically, I’d still like to have her as a friend, if at all possible. Like Helga had said, all that laughter was good for me.

Okay, so Max was looking at me like I was completely out of my head, talking and gesturing into the burner cell phone like someone was in the same room. Every time I laughed at one of her comments or sallies, his ears pricked up as if he too wanted to know what the joke was. When I took him out in the yard to do his night-time business, he didn’t stray very far from me in the dark. Maybe he was having second thoughts about rooming with a guy who’d suddenly taken up singing and gesticulating?

Friday morning, I went into work early so as to be sure to get away on time for my date with Mel. The flower concession in the hospital main foyer was just opening, and I decided that now was as good a time as any to start improving my spontaneity. I bought one of those ‘stay-fresh’ bouquets in a bag of water, and asked the lady to fill in the attached card ‘From Your Secret Admirer’. I placed the flowers on Helga’s desk and went to get started on my day.

A half-hour later, Helga appeared in my doorway with a quizzical expression on her face, “Flowers? What did I do right?”

I grinned as I shook my head in unspoken denial, “I saw them arrive. What’s Clifford done wrong? That looked quite the apology?”

She looked startled at my response. “I don’t think he sent them. There’s a note attached, from my secret admirer. I thought they must be from you? Who brought them?”

I pretended to think, “I don’t know the name. About 350 pounds, five foot even, yellow slacks, short pink halter top with belly piercing, brush-cut blue hair, biker tattoos. Haven’t seen her around before; where did you meet her?”

My normally unflappable secretary blinked, then laughed as she finally saw I was teasing her. “Nope, boss, don’t believe you. Even you would have taken note of someone like that, maybe called security? No, it must have been you. You gonna ‘fess up so I can get on with the coffee rather than waste my time arguing with you?”

That was effectively blackmail. She knows that without coffee I’d wind down and collapse like one of those clockwork toys. “Okay, it was me. I just thought it would be a nice surprise for you. I don’t show you often enough how much I appreciate you.”

She walked over, invaded my personal space, and sexually harassed me in my own office by planting a kiss on my forehead. “You’re quite correct, you most certainly don’t, but what boss does? Thank you for my lovely flowers. This Mel lady seems to be doing you some good. I’ll put the coffee on.”

I needed that coffee, getting through several cups before lunch. My ten o’clock was a nightmare. The annual round of reviewing all our policies, session number 98437C. (Well, that’s how it felt, unending.) This one was all about data retention, record processing, off-site archiving and access procedures. The whole subject is a legal minefield; it’s impossible to get it 100% correct. Just as soon as you get yourself up to date, some idiot changes the rules again, and as you’re chasing that, some other lunatic sues to get it altered again ... Privacy fanatics against full disclosure nuts – no end in sight. By one o’clock, when we agreed that we could do no more today, I was almost wishing our hospital was part of some great healthcare corporation, where the home office dealt with all this crap and we just had to adhere to it. Almost. Most of the time it’s too satisfying being able to make decisions and implement them without referring to anybody higher up the food chain. I’m not ready to be a corporate droid just yet. Not sure I ever will be.

A grinning Helga chased me out of the building at four, telling me to change out of my business suit into something casual, threatening to escort me on a shopping trip if I didn’t have anything suitable. Fortunately, I did. Mom had sent me a new Lacoste polo shirt in Chartreuse for Christmas; not a color shade that I’d have picked out for myself, but my mother and sister had both commented that it looked good on me in the selfie I shared. I reckoned it was due its first outing. I’d already washed and ironed it, but I quickly ran the iron once more over it and my chinos, just to be smart casual. Didn’t want to appear to be giving less than 100% effort. Gave Max his supper and headed out to meet up with Mel.

We had a great time watching ‘Fort Apache’ together; on the big screen the cinematography made a whole lot more sense than when I’d seen it on TV. I kept my hands to myself in the darkened cinema, though I longed to put my arm around her shoulders. Maybe I should have done? I just didn’t want to scare her away, not after her ‘octopus’ comments of Wednesday.

We ate together afterwards, standard Italian at an ‘Olive Garden’ franchise, sharing a bottle of wine while discussing the film, laughingly trying to work out exact scene locations in Corriganville; and it was nearly midnight before she kissed me on the cheek and drove herself home, another date agreed.

Max examined me suspiciously on my return and sniffed my chinos to excess; I rather thought from the tone of his snuffles that he approved of the person I’d been with. I knew I did.

Saturday Mel was helping a director friend with a location scout, and I had the usual weekend grocery shopping and household chores to do. She called me at nine that evening to confirm that, come the morning, we’d leave our dogs at home and meet up at Muscle Beach at Venice, Santa Monica.

I hadn’t been that way in quite a while, so I cheated with the satnav to ensure I didn’t accidentally end up in the lane headed for the airport.

We found each other just after ten. Early enough that on-street parking wasn’t yet a problem.

Mel was wearing a light summer dress, showing her long bare legs to great advantage. I wasn’t showing as much skin below my shorts, but then my legs aren’t nearly as good as hers. I can’t have looked too scary, because I got a nice kiss of greeting on the cheek.

Mel’s got a great eye for the ridiculous, and a scathing wit, and we got a few sour looks from people for not being sufficiently impressed by their presence. She joshed me a little as we strolled north along the ocean front walk people watching – the body builders, the posers and the fashion victims. Yeah, I’ll never have a body like some of the guys there, but I can live with being in their shadows. It was a whole lot of fun.

We stopped at a hot dog stand, laughing at each other as the juice, mustard and ketchup leaked onto our chins and needed dabbing with napkins before it dripped onto our clothing. It was still fun.

Then we sauntered further on to Santa Monica Pier and looked out over the Pacific. A few small boats, some pelicans, and blue water and sky as far as the eye could see, only marred by cruise liners and jets out of LAX, some heading high over the ocean in the distance. The March sunshine was pleasant, the temperature comfortable. “You can understand why the early seafarers thought that the horizon was the edge of the world, and didn’t like getting out of sight of land.”

“Can’t you just! You ever been down here at night, Mike?”

“No, have you?”

Her eyes went hazy for a moment, obviously reliving a memory, “Yeah, I did some shooting here one evening a few years back. We’d gotten most of the movie into the can in the afternoon; it had been a very tense day, prima-donna male lead, lots of re-shoots, and we just had to do the intro scene to finish off. I spent an hour exploring this part before meeting up with the rest of the crew; they’d gone for a drink but I’d had more than enough of them by that stage, and wanted to find the right background for the scene. It was definitely the best part of that day. The Ferris wheel lights up, all the colors in the rainbow and then some; the rollercoaster is lit, the entire place looks just amazing, almost magical. Helped me chill out after the stress of the day. It wasn’t that busy; it was a whole lot of fun just walking around seeing people out enjoying themselves. Even made me smile at the crew when they rolled up late. You should see it.”