I arrived home at 4.30am, kissed him lightly on the nose, tried to finish
packing in a delirious and exhausted state. I knew we flew that evening, early. I had to be at work early. I showered and crawled into bed with The Lover intending to feel his warmth and breathe for five minutes but
falling into at 90 minute narcoleptic haze of rainbows and unicorns and thick syrup. Sleep, I knew her once Horatio. It was not unusual for the past few
weeks. It was relief to come home at all. I kept suits, work out gear, pyjamas, towels and toiletries in my gilded cage.
It will be better in the
new year, i promised. Just getting ready to go away, clear the decks. Etcetera. It was a begging voice. I had my priorities all wrong and I knew it.
But i also had the newly sober's impatience and frantic desire to beat time.
The next day, like the three that preceded it there was a hectic haze of
dashing around, debriefing The Partner en route to meetings, on the way to the elevator,
where ever i could catch him, having works signed off, touching base,
tying off loose ends. At 4pm I finally caught The Partner for some much earned and necessary Sit Down
Time and validation.
We rushed through the 4 inch pile in my lap, me talking at breakneck speed. 'Subject to xyz, are you happy for me to send it?"
All in the affirmative.
I
put the pen down. "On another note, I'm off to Laos tonight, around 7, with Jason for a month, so
it could be good to have a quick chat. How do you think I'm doing? I
mean, I think, I am doing extremely well. since going away. I want to
thank you for that time off to get sorted and let you know that I am
feeling strong, feeling like I am achieving. I am enjoying the
game and feeling empowered, and I think I'm doing a good job. Just
wondering what your thoughts were."
He does the surprised laugh of the emotionally confronted parent and runs a hand through his hair with a smile. Before "the time off" i was
way too scared to talk about me or ask for feedback. I knew what a colossal mess i was, saved only by hard work, intelligence and charm.
"Yes,
I was meaning to come and talk to you. You've had a killer month and its
only been a short month. Feedback is always important."
"Yes, it is. I've done really well, no? I'm self reporting." The nerd in me laughs at the ASX terminology.
"That's great. How are you doing?"
"Really well. I want to thank you. For the time off. I needed it."
"As I said, a killer month."
"Yes, well, I'm feeling very productive, so I feel more confident putting my time down and billing for all the time I spend here working."
"That's good. How is Jason?"
"He's good. We're going to Laos."
"Have a good time then. Crazy place. Communists. Aaaaaah in the 70s..." He laughs and thinks of a wild mis-spent youth, and I like him for this.
"Yes, I know. Communists eh. When I get back we are getting a cat and we will call him Chairman Meow."
We exchange exhausted smiles and there are unspoken words, the closest thing I've had to an avuncular friendship or mentorship in a while. We're both too tired for anymore.
It
was a conversation that left me on a high, Stockholm Syndrome style. I
had slept in the same bed as The Lover 3 nights that week and gone to
bed with him once, as some sort of special leaving-early treat. We argued
that night anyway. I was looking for validation and meaning in the
wrong places when The Lover was there under my nose, should have been the
most important source of meaning to me. Of all the reasons a relationship can fail,
boredom, infidelity and all their techni-coloured cousins in many guises...
neglect is the stupidest.
Corporate law is a funny profession,
like being a monk, you come to it with false hopes and fall in love with
the sacrifice, flagellation and the unattainable ideals. Until everything
is gone and you are either in Nirvana on the golf course or alone
begging for alms.
