Walking Slowly Through The Crowd

At moments like this he needed little persuasion that his plans were the right ones. He wouldn’t miss the cold, the crowds, the creeping claustriophobia, the inescapable ubiquity of strangers’ body odour or any of the other myriad frustrations which characterised his morning commute. There would be nothing in this for which he would pine.

Of course, there were some people – a few colleagues, the friends from other contexts he met up with occasionally. However Nick had held relationships at something of a distance since the split with Jane; while that policy had its down sides, at times like this it was easier to stay the course. Over the past three years that relationship had faded into the background, but the regrets were still keen. He knew it was all to predictable to attempt to save himself from being hurt by keeping others at arms’ length, but that didn’t make it any less successful. Better the dull ache of regret and frustration than the sharp stabs of let down and disappointment.

He knew the business opportunities were good where he was going – property on the west coast was booming, the economy was more stable than in the past and a new President was bringing the expectation of that stability lasting into years ahead. Optimism was at last running free, and Nick was planning to make the most of it. An old-fashioned American dream, without starting in the gutter.

There had been little in the way of attempts to make him stay at work – the standard good-natured jokes, the predictable collection he wasn’t supposed to know about, but in truth this was the sort of company that would cope perfectly well without him or most others.

He had a week left, and this week would mainly be putting his house in order. 17 emails waited for him. One from the manager.

“Come and see me ASAP. John”

Nick pondered for a moment – this could only be some last minute clarification of pending deals for his successor. He went straight upstairs; John’s door was open.

“Come in, Nick. Good to see you”

Nick had never been close to John; nor was he suspicious of his motives like others were. Like many others, he just kept stayed his distance.

“I’ll get straight to it Nick. Caz is leaving. Wants to be a full time mum. Don’t get it myself – she’s wasted at home. With a body and a brain like hers, she’d be a millionaire in 5 years. Anyway, you’re perfect for her job. We’ll put you on 60K, 5 more than she was and beef up the bonuses. Interested?”

Nick had no answer. This was unexpected, unasked for and more than he would make for at least 5 years abroad. Silence while he studied the calendar.

“Well?”

“S-S-Sorry”, he stammered. Surprise always bought this on, cruelly reminding him of childhood embarrassment at the very moment he needed to be most focussed. “I just wasn’t expecting this. Can I let you know?”

John looked surprised too. “I thought you’d jump at it. You have until before team meeting tomorrow.”

“Thank you.

He left on autopilot; to where, he didn’t know. Coffee-machine, drink, wander down hallway. Pay more attention than necessary to the notice-board. Anything to kill time.

After eight hours of what passed for work, the dilemma was down to this: there was no personal reason to stay, no financial reason to go. The journey home had seemed longer, the to-do list ahead of the move substantially more out of control faced with this decision. Whenever he was usually faced with a decision, it would come down to lists. Here there was one item on each list, each item of equal weight.

The answer came down to a simple choice – stay or go, money or opportunity, familiar or new. He saw no reason for one or the other; nothing screaming at him that it was obvious. So he decided simply to let it be decided for him; when he left the station at the end of his journey, he would wall slowly home past the shops, allowing the busy commuters brush him, bump him, overtake him. Whatever he heard or saw first in the shop windows, overheard phone calls and conversations, would decide for him – stay or go, money or move, home or abroad.

The train pulled in, he climbed the stairs, keeping pace with the middle of the crowd; he took the card from his pocket, pressing it to the reader and through the gate. And he started to listen.