CHAPTER 29 THE WORLD
THE WORLD
Phoenix
Inaugural day at work. Phoenix rode the elevator, glad for a few minutes of not seeing anyone he knew before he faced the office.
Leaning on his cane, Phoenix exited the lift to counterAgency’s floor.
The refreshingly light space elevated his thoughts.
The design spurred ideas. What if hospital rooms sported the same individuality and airy, who-cares architecture?
That was a relief; the train hadn’t stolen his creativity.
“Look who’s here!” the receptionist called as he entered the agency.
Co-workers turned from a table laden with food and broke into applause.
The sign above the breakfast platters proclaimed Welcome Back!
Colleagues trailed closer to greet him with hugs and hellos.
A producer reached out, then froze as he fixated on Phoenix’s occupied grip.
Phoenix shifted the cane under his left elbow and clasped the guy’s hand.
“Great to see you,” Phoenix said with affection.
It struck him that he’d need to help people feel comfortable with the changes in him.
“So much for flying under the radar,” he quipped to the growing crowd, transferring the cane back to its supporting position.
“Come to think of it, so much for flying at all.” The hubbub echoed through the industrial space of painted ductwork and whitewashed brick walls, bringing more staff into the open foyer.
“You look great,” said a copywriter with a sleek blond ‘do and black suit. Her urbane get-up made him feel disheveled in comparison. The feeling had nothing to do with the crisp suit he’d donned, and everything to do with the jacket sleeve cuffed halfway up his forearm and the crutch he leaned upon.
“We’re so happy to see you!” A bubbly producer threw her arms around his neck. Her enthusiastic embrace caused him to wobble and adjust his stance. He cupped an arm around her and then let go.
“Thanks. I appreciate all the cards and flowers. How are you?” He looked around at his staff, nodding and murmuring affirmations.
Their care warmed him, yet wide-smiled stares were tinged with tightness.
A young copywriter broke away from the huddle, but not before he glimpsed her crumpled chin and wet eyes.
He’d exerted monumental effort to go from immobile in a hospital bed to walking.
In his own assessment, he was doing much better.
But this employee and her colleagues had last seen him as a capable, whole man.
He straightened, an attempt to regain the feeling of stature his physicality had lost. The group quieted, waiting for his words.
“It’s really great to be back. I’m proud of the bang-up job you guys are doing. Congrats on winning REBBL. I know how you really pulled together these last few months. So many of you reached out to me. I’m sorry I wasn’t in any shape to see all of you. It’s been . . . hard.” His throat tightened.
He glanced away, seeking to regain composure. Here he was, at the center of the business he’d built. Where everything was the same—maybe even better—except him.
“Now that Phoenix’s here, we are really going to kick some butt,” came a jovial voice. The crowd cheered. Dex stepped around the back of the group to join Phoenix at the center of the ragged circle. “Who are we going to win next?”
People called out names of pitches and accounts under review.
Dex’s familiar grin was just what Phoenix needed to pull himself together. He turned towards his buddy. “Thanks to you, and Liv and everyone for helping out these last few months.”
“You would’ve done the same for any of us,” Dex said. He faced their employees. “This team’s really the best in the business. Now go scarf some pastries.”
The crowd dissipated, most heading towards the buffet. Some art directors and copywriters pressed nearer. “Hey, can I set up time to bounce an idea off you?” “Do you have time to meet my new hire later today?”
Liv parted the crowd with one sharp shoulder and took her place at Phoenix’s side with a tilt of her chin. “Mr. Walker, we need to prep before your ten a.m.,” she said, looking up at him through glinting glasses.
“Sure, thanks. Excuse me, everyone.” He followed Liv down the long corridor to his office overlooking Midtown.
“Do I really have a ten a.m.?” he asked, out of earshot of the others.
“Yes, you’re scheduled for a rendezvous with a double espresso,” she said, indicating the miniature handled mug on his desk.
“Brilliant. Thanks.”
Relieved to have a moment off feet untested for marathon workdays, he sank into his chair and stared at the cool white expanse of his desk.
Liv’s neat efficiency kept the objects to a minimum.
His Mac sat open, logged into an email account showcasing no unread messages.
A picture of his parents with him and Caleb at their last birthday celebration stood in one corner.
Which reminded him of the photo with Orchid that she’d framed from their sunny day in Cannes.
No time to contemplate where that picture had gone, as a steady stream of co-workers came by to welcome him back and inform him of business dynamics.
By two p.m., Phoenix still hadn’t had time to eat the roast beef panini Liv had brought back during her lunch break.
She knocked, and pushed through the glass door to interrupt his conversation with Dex. “Five minutes,” she told the big guy, “and then Mr. Walker has to leave for an appointment.”
The barrel-chested executive leaned back, chair groaning in protest. “With whom?” he boomed.
“It’s a private meeting, but I think he’s interviewing replacement executive creative directors,” she snarked, allowing the door to swing shut on the appreciative audience behind her.
Ten minutes later, Dex got up to leave. “It’s not been the same without you, buddy. You let me know anything you need.”
“Sure, thanks. I appreciate you and Fiona coming to see me in rehab.”
“You’re looking good.”
“Maybe better than right after I was run over by a train, but I doubt that I qualify for good.”
Liv peeked into the office, her brown-slicked hair and cat eyeglasses sending enough of a message without saying anything.
“Okay, okay.” Dex ambled out as she entered.
Phoenix looked up at his administrative assistant. “I don’t have an appointment, do I?” Suddenly, he realized how tired he felt.
“You are on half days until further notice. Dr. Liv’s orders,” she said, picking up his uneaten sandwich and placing it into an oil-spotted paper bag already heavy with other contents. “I’m taking you home.”
“You don’t have to do that,” he said.
She walked out with him, matching her pace to his, carrying her rigid, structured purse in one hand and his bagged lunch in the other.
At the street, she put up a hand for a cab and one pulled over within minutes as if no one dare ignore the efficiency she embodied.
He caned down the curb to the door she opened for him, grateful to sink onto the seat.
She shut his door and then, surprising him, slid in on the other side, behind the driver.
“East Eighty-Fifth at York,” she told the bearded man, pulling the door shut behind her.
“You don’t have to come with me,” Phoenix said, resting his cane against the side of the door.
“When else am I going to get an excuse to sneak out of work early?”
“You must have an ogre of a boss.”
“Yup. The worst.”
“You probably won’t even get Thanksgiving off.”
“Never,” she agreed, lips stretching across her tiny face.
He turned forward, facing right into the cabbie’s ID picture.
The swarthy fellow overflowing with facial hair didn’t have the doughy bulbous nose or bushy eyebrows of the homeless man.
But there was no telling that to the images suddenly racing through his mind.
He shut his eyes to stop picturing the bearded guy with crazed eyes leaping for the tracks.
When he forced them open again, Liv was staring at him. “You okay?”
“No,” he admitted.
“I was just kidding about the bad boss.” She put a tentative hand on his arm.
“I’ve got to get out of here.”
“Pull over,” she demanded through the opening in the clear plastic partition.
Liv tossed a twenty-dollar bill up front as the car slowed. She jumped out and stalked around to his side. Yanking open his door, he tumbled out and leaned on his cane to get up onto the curb.
“What’s wrong?” she pleaded.
His knees didn’t feel strong enough to hold him up. “The homeless guy . . . from the subway.”
Liv’s mouth fell open in horror, shooting a useless stare at the already departed cab. “That was him?”
He shook his head. “Just looked like him.”
Liv’s brows knitted behind semi-circular spectacles. “What can I do?”
“Nothing. I’ll just walk home. You go.”
“No way. I’m not leaving you.”
He glared at her.
“It’s only a few blocks,” Liv reasoned. “We can either call an uber, or I’ll walk with you.”
“Let’s walk.” He found he could take steps, each steadier than the prior one.
As they made their way to his apartment, she pressed. “Is there someone I can call?”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
“What about Caleb?”
“I’m not calling my brother.”
“Anyone else?”
He shook his head with a nonchalance he didn’t feel.
“Well, I’m always here,” she said.
His loneliness was not a subject he wanted to discuss; he was glad they’d arrived.
“Thanks again,” he said, entering the foyer and passing the guard’s desk.
“There’s enough for lunch and dinner in here,” she said, holding up the white paper bag as she accompanied him to the elevator. He’d forgotten about the need for meals. Liv hadn’t.
“That’s really thoughtful,” he said, tucking the bag into the crook of his left elbow. An appetite for food seemed as foreign as cactus in a rainforest.
“Do you want me to stay with you?”
“Thanks, but there’s no need.”
She looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow as she formulated a smarmy remark. “Even though you’re a terrible boss, you know I’d do anything for you.”
“I don’t doubt that for a minute,” he said, turning toward the elevator.
The next morning, Phoenix groaned upon seeing Liv in his lobby.
“If you didn’t have new clothes on, I’d guess you’d been here all night,” he said dryly to the pert brunette.
“Who else is going to introduce your new driver?” she asked, accompanying him outside.
“New driver?” Sure enough, a dark sedan livery service stood at the curbside. Inside sat an elderly gentleman with hair the same color and density as a dandelion gone to bloom.
“Don’t worry. I negotiated. Once we arrange the pickup and drop-off times, it’s not much more than an uber.” She welled with pride.
Phoenix introduced himself to the elderly gentleman and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Am I that bad off, that I need a babysitter?” he asked Liv, maneuvering into the back seat.
“You’re not the only agency head to have a driver, you know.”
“Thanks, Liv,” he managed. From the back seat, he stared at the blue accessible parking tag she must’ve ordered. Above the seated figure in a wheelchair, the placard was stamped in capital letters: PERMANENT.
Like I need a reminder that this isn’t temporary?
As they merged into traffic, the hangcard swung from the rearview mirror like a noose.