Damon was whistling the tune to Journey’s “Lights” as he returned to work at 1. He strode onto campus with a confident, easy step. It was most unusual, this self-assured tableau, for Damon normally returned from lunch weeping like a lost little girl.
“Best hour of the day,” he’d blubber to himself, “all done.”
He’d always had an uneasy alliance with the keyboard, monitor and mouse, bordering on all-out war. It was difficult to imagine what the conflict was over; his 9 to 6 as an executive assistant was hardly what one would call the burden of a soldier. Indeed, his bosses, sales directors for a global consumer products firm, were always traveling. One of them had spent a grand total of 30 days in the company’s Burbank headquarters last fiscal year.
So mausoleum quiet was Damon’s end of the floor that the motion-detecting overhead lights always blinked out. It was like the dark side of the moon over there. He’d have to open the printer tray, pull out a piece of 8 ½ by 11, wad it up, and toss it into the great void in order to shed some light on his situation – which involved doing a few expense reports and a lot of surfing the Web.
Then there was his daily escape for lunch. “Free at last! Free at last!” he’d announce to absolutely no one, feeling for all the world like the Rev. Dr. King himself. Damon’s own promised land, however, bathed in a wondrous, golden-arched light, was a McDonald’s beneath the westbound Glendale freeway. He’d slide into a red-and-yellow plastic booth with his No. 3 meal and, for the first moment that day, feel he could breathe a relaxed sigh of relief.
About an hour later would come the waterworks – until today. Today, he’d done something different, something adult. He’d driven past McDonald’s to Gelson’s market in North Hollywood, where’d he’d fixed himself a healthy salad. What’s more, he’d glimpsed a man he could swear was none other than former Journey front man Steve Perry. The superstar once called rock’s greatest voice was carting a couple of roasted chickens and a 12-pack of Charmin into the parking lot when Damon spotted him.
Finally, Damon had done some adult thinking. He’d decided to tell Ann Tilden Jones he loved her.
A fine piece of art. Holding my breath... what did Ann say?
ReplyDeleteThanks, Sparrow4Captain. "A fine piece of art" is the perfect description of Ann Tilden Smith. In coming posts I'll tell more of her story. Indeed, in the piece appearing March 17, 2011 we learn that, while Damon can appreciate an exquisite painting, he's at an utter loss when it comes to discussing it. His comparison of Ann's lovely face to that of former Journey front man Steve Perry is a most poor review indeed. It leaves her with more questions about our hero than it answers.
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