Brian Sullivan started working at Raytheon right out of Bentley College. The president of Raytheon was his father, so there was little anxiety about finding a job right out of school. He insisted on working his way up the corporate latter, wanted to avoid getting any sneers from the calloused veterans at the office. So Brian the twenty-something took a job as a product manager.
It didn’t take very long for people to find out that he was the president’s son. Brian received fresh coffee to his cubical, like clockwork, every morning at 7:30. He was a tall Irish man with thinning blonde hair and light blue eyes. His clothes always looked worn and had a patch or shaded section in the fabric. Waste was a cardinal sin to him, rarely did he throw away any article of clothing unless it looked like it was jammed in a shredder (His father grew up during the great depression in New York City, and the only evidence of that was his modest and hardworking ethics). Brian learned to put up a mirror in his cubical to be used as a rearview mirror so he could tell people to piss off without even moving an inch. In return, those people gave him a toothless comb. They sniffed out his insecurity about the receding hairline.
Wednesdays were always frantic. The accounts closed the books every Wednesday so on every floor you would see people running from cubical to cubical with a manila folder clutched nervously in there hand. There was a mound of folders collecting on his desk. When you’re a newbie you don’t want to turn away too many people.
“Hi..Brian?” chirped a timid voice coming from behind him in the doorway.
“Mhm? If it’s another fucking spreadsheet you got for me you can leave it here with the others..” he swung his chair around and looked at her square in the eyes. She wasn’t holding a manila folder or a coffee. She wore a red dress with a matching jacket and although the length of dress fell below the knee, her tan and slender legs made it look provocative. He glanced at her stilettos, wondering how she got around in those things. She gracefully swept the brown hair away from her eyes and asked coolly, “Me and some girls from work are meeting at Friday’s tonight for dinner. Would you like to come too?” He was embarrassed to ask her of her name. He was sure he’d remember her if he met her before. He didn’t want to show any hesitation on his face because he could see that she was just trying to extend a friendly dinner offer. That was all. God she’s gorgeous. Wait I think I remember her from the Christmas party..Nancy Doborough.
“Yeah, what time are you meeting there?”
“Your party is already here,” said the snotty hostess girl, snapping her gum, “Right this way.” There were four unfamiliar faces sitting with her all sipping a cocktail. Nancy smiled as he walked toward her, and then whispered something and the five of them huddled together like gossiping linebackers making a play in a tied game in the last quarter. “Hey, sorry I’m late. Hi Nancy,” His eyes met the faces of the other women, “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met before! I’m Brian Sullivan.” The woman with the curly red hair hurriedly sipped the rest of her drink and replied, “Oh we know, I’m Holly Cahill,” as she put out her hand.
The other three introduced themselves and after five minutes of the typical start-up conversation Holly yawned and said she was tired and should head home. The rest gave the same yawn and excuse, got up, and left. Brian was set up. He rejoiced on the inside.
“Guess it’s just you and I!” Nancy exclaimed as if he didn’t realize it for himself. She sat closer to him, and they didn’t leave the restaurant until 5 minutes before closing. He didn’t want the night to end yet though. She was an outgoing girl from Lawrence Massachusetts; her Dad was a high school principal and cartoonist. She’d been living on her own since she was 18 and never finished high school. She laughed at all of Brian’s jokes as if they were pure hilarity. Nancy had a much different life than Brian, anyone could see that. The only parallel was their relationship with their fathers. They both adored them. He found himself loving every detail as if it were his own. He could see their lives coming together, as if it were air flowing into a stuffy room. She revived him. Her spirit flowed into him so effortlessly it nearly took his breath away.
When the dishwashers started glaring at them, Nancy sweetly asked, “Would you like to meet my daddy?”
“I’d love to.”
Brian didn’t know that Nancy Doborough was actually Nancy Ferris. She was trying to get out of a bad marriage. He didn’t flinch or care about this “baggage”. He paid for the divorce papers and held her hand in the court room. There was so many things working against them, all odds of them being together forever worked entirely against there favor. They took each step together, and didn’t let their opposite poles pull apart the course of destiny. Because that’s exactly what it was.
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