I slip around the hallway corner into another long corridor. She reaches out her left hand to a doorknob, and in my mind, I freeze every detail about her. I marvel at her beauty. To list her attributes would require endless description. Far simpler to note her flaws, which in essence, only support her elegance.
A small section of her hair tends to fall across her left eye when she becomes agitated or animated about something. She dresses not to compliment. She does not smile nearly enough. She’s my boss.
I chuckle at the ‘long list’ of her flaws. I also look back at what happened over the past year and I realize I never really lived while with Jessica. I constantly put out fires on one hand and attempted to start blazes on the other. Now, for the first time in my adult life, I understand the meaning of desire – its subtleties, its ability to unseat logic, and its nuances that sneak into the heart.
My job switch definitely came at a critical turning point, shortly after Jess and I divorced. I knew the moment my eyes received the gift of her face my destiny lay with Marci.
Marci. I roll the name over my silent tongue a few times as I make my way past her door. I feel stupid. A schoolboy smitten by the class vixen. I feel teenage angst yet I’m thirty two. I dread opening the door to this meeting. I like the sound of the name, ‘Marci’ bounced off my name, Marty. They feel like the perfect match.
Some manner of miracle must occur to keep the wrong words out of my mouth. I desire to dazzle her with brilliant repartee, but I know my tongue will stumble and some garbled blurb will proceed from my throat and the snickers will flit around the table like evil butterflies that taunt their counterparts in my stomach.
In R&D, the unstated rules of the game demand professionalism, sharp observation, and an ability to focus. At least these make up the rules I’ve observed the past eight months. I’m not a scientist by trade, but I do love to tinker with concepts and possibilities. To be honest, I still wonder why Human Resources chose my resume and then chose me for this position.
I feel like a wildcard, a joker among royalty. Outranked at every turn, I know I offer little to these meetings other than ‘out there’ possibilities. HR must covet my knack to question anything, along with my ability to back up assertions with sound logic.
When Marci’s in the room, though, I tend to lose my competitive edge. I’m a bit too laid back for this crowd anyway. Just wait until I spring my theory of out-of-body time travel on them. No, maybe the time is not right just yet. I may have survived eight months, but something so nutcase-sounding as that could pink slip me real quick.
No, I’ll stick to the script of the mundane and throw in my outlandish observations. Who knows, maybe today I’ll get the chance to impress her. Did I mention she owns the company?
The Method Writers 