Days 333 and 334

Writing exercise – Include a love story, a catchy song, and a misunderstanding

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Was it possible that one person could make a difference?  Yes!

My head and heart were still reeling the next morning, while battling with the effects of lack of sleep, euphoria was running at an all-time high, and the lyrics of ‘I could have danced all night’ were running through my head.

That night, it had been very hard to get to sleep, my mind going over every detail.  Was I writing more into this than there was?  Quite likely.  I would have to find some way of putting it all into some sort of perspective.  We just got along.  We were compatible.  We were not lovers or candidates for an affair.  That was not what I wanted, nor, I’m sure, did Katrina.  It had to be business as usual.

I was looking out the window again, down at the many people pouring out of the railway station on their way to work.  This morning, I viewed them in a different light, as people who, like I, no doubt had the same struggles, the same feelings, the same highs and lows.  No longer did I think I was the only one who could have problems.

Being a bad-tempered, forever-angry manager seemed to be part of the job.  It didn’t take long; after I’d assumed the position, I started to fit the mould.  I guess, after the last manager, the staff had every right to expect more of the same, and I’m afraid I hadn’t let them down.  It wasn’t hard because if you gave them an inch, they took a mile. 

I started with all the best intentions.  Then, as the rot set in at home, it had a great deal of influence at work.  As despondency closed in from all sides, relations on all fronts deteriorated.  Amazingly, I could see it all quite clearly, where things had been going wrong.  Was it symbolic that the sun came out at that precise moment, bathing me in a shaft of sunlight and warmth through the clouds?

Jenny came in with the morning mail.  As was customary, she would put it on the desk, and, if there was anything important, bring it to my attention and leave.  I had heard rumours she was less than impressed with me, but it was hard to find anything out.  Certainly, most mornings, I didn’t so much as acknowledge her existence.

“How are you this morning?”  I turned to catch her just as she was leaving.

She stopped.  “Very well, thank you.”  Her tone was slightly apprehensive.

“I know it’s probably a little late, but I apologise for being the cranky old bastard in the past, and I have greatly appreciated the work you have been doing for me all this time.”

Her apprehension changed to surprise.  “Thank you.”

“And for not going over to Whiteside when they offered it to you.”

“That was easy.  You were the lesser of the two evils.”

I smiled, trying to disarm her fears.  She looked at me, expecting a trap.  I’d also heard about Whiteside.  “I guess, in the fullness of time, when they write the history of this place, it will count for something to be known as the ‘lesser of two evils’.  But to more important things.  What’s really going on in this place?”

It took a while to break down the apprehension.  She had every right to be wary, but I finally convinced her that I was not the monster I was made out to be.  I also knew, discovering quite by accident, she was the editor of the unofficial staff newspaper.  She had a great sense of humour, as well as journalistic ability, which few knew about.

It was a great session, leading up to the morning tea break.  She gave me a rather potted history of each of the people in the department, pointing out, in her opinion, she added quick, their good and bad points.  When I asked her about my colleagues, she was a little more guarded, but I found out enough to satisfy my curiosity.

As she was going, perhaps finally deciding our new working relationship was sufficiently amicable, she asked, “Is there anything going on between you and Katrina?”

I looked at her and smiled.  “No.  As much as everyone would like it, I’m afraid our only claim to fame is morning tea and lunch on the odd occasion.  Still, if people think there is, it won’t matter what I say, will it?”

“No.  I’m afraid not.  You are up against a strange mentality here.”

“What do you think?”

“Does it matter?”

“It may seem odd to you, but yes.”

“She has the extraordinary quality of bringing people out of themselves.  Personally, I believe you.  From my experience working for you, I know you are one of the few with integrity.  And if you did go off the rails, I wouldn’t hold it against you.  This place manages to do it to everyone eventually.”

I deliberately did not go up to the tearoom to see Katrina.  Not that I didn’t want to, but I suspected my face would be a little like an open book, and I needed time to get my thoughts and emotions under control.

She came up to see me mid-morning about a minor administrative problem, which could easily be solved over the phone.  When she came in, I looked up, a felt a little quickening in my heart rate, but otherwise tried to look normal.  The business matter was resolved quickly, but she made no attempt to leave.

“We missed you at tea.”

“Work is piling up.”

“It has nothing to do with us?”

She was direct, and it was as if she could read my thoughts.

“I’m just a bit worried about what people are saying.”

She shook her head.  “Whatever for?”

“You should hardly want to have your name linked to mine in having a sordid affair.”

“Sordid, hey?  I’ve never had a sordid affair.  Is that an offer?”

I felt embarrassed.  Normally, I wouldn’t dream of talking to any woman in this manner.  “You know what I mean.”

“I think I do, and I’m flattered you have considered my feelings.  It’s a rare quality some of your contemporaries should take note of.  But you should not give a damn about what anyone thinks.  You and I know the truth, so we can have the last laugh on all of them.”

She made it sound all too easy, but I was sure it wasn’t quite the way she put it.  We were, unfortunately, up against human nature.  For many, it would be impossible to see that we could be just friends.  And for me?  Or her?  Perhaps it should end here.

“Do you seriously think that’s possible?”  I looked at her, perhaps for the first time, in a different light.  She was quite beautiful, with the look and personality to drive some men to distraction.

I had put my ear to the ground, and she was one of the few women who excited most of the men in this company.  One had even told me his secret desires at one management party, such was the lack of serious topics.  It angered me that my mind could sink to their level.

“I like you, John.  I like you a lot.  You’re going to have to make up your own mind about that.  I have.  What happens from here is up to you.”  With that said, she left me in more turmoil than I needed.

For several days, I went home earlier than usual to see if I could sort out some of the problems at home.  I took the children aside, one at a time, and had a long talk with them.  They thought it was rather novel that I should talk to them at all, but seemed to be willing to give it a chance.

Perhaps it was something I should have done long before this, but it was something that had slipped.  Once, when they were young, I spent more time with them.  Of course, then I was a lowly clerk, without the pressures of promotion.

How much of our interaction with family was lost as we worked our way up the ladder of success?  It was all from a business point of view, not personal, and it was true that the more successful we became in the company, the less successful we were at home.

I had a number of long talks with Joan, taking her to dinner, and spending a weekend away from the children on our own.  There was still some of the feeling we had for each other lurking beneath the hostility.  At times, we had arguments, but they were less intense, and relations were better.

Our discussions, however, were not on the same level as those I could have with Katrina.  Katrina had, in some unimaginable way, opened up a little of me, the real me, I’d not known before.

Whilst we had maintained a relatively platonic relationship, I had set aside any other feelings.  We still had the occasional cup of coffee or quick lunch, but it didn’t have the same feel to it, and she’d noticed it but said nothing.  I missed her, being with her, expressing my feelings.  Being myself, the newly discovered me.

Even Jenny, my new sounding board, said she’d noticed a subtle change.  In fact, at the end of one of our morning briefings, she added the observation, “You should not dwell too much on what other people think.  If you do, you will always be unhappy.”

I knew what she meant.  I leaned back in my chair, hands behind my head, and looked deep into my soul.  What did I want?  What did I feel?  Should I run with it, or run away from it?

I’d known the answer to that long before I picked up the phone.

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©  Charles Heath  2025