Michel calling Jean's silence a blessing would have stung me way more than it seems to sting Jean. My guess is Michel cracks before Lucas does.
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Michel calling Jean's silence a blessing would have stung me way more than it seems to sting Jean. My guess is Michel cracks before Lucas does.
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Returning to the office felt like putting on a suit that had shrunk in the closet. Everything at the audit firm remained the same, yet Jean felt he no longer fit within the seams of that routine.
At seven-thirty in the morning, Michel’s horn blared from the street. His friend had been his only link to the outside world during those dark months. Jean got into the car, which smelled of cheap coffee and anxiety. Michel pulled away aggressively.
–My head feels like it’s about to explode,–Michel muttered, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. –The quarterly close, the mortgage, the kids’ school... I feel like I’ve been running for years on a treadmill that someone forgot to turn off. Sometimes, Jean, I look at you and think your silence is a blessing. You’re out of this trap.–
Jean studied him. In the past, that remark might have plunged him into self-pity. Now, he saw only the profound exhaustion in his friend’s eyes. He didn’t offer a lecture; he simply reached out and turned off the radio, which had been blaring news at a jarring volume. Then, he rolled his window down a bit, letting in the fresh morning air.
–The light is still red, Michel,– Jean said gently, leaning back in his seat. –No one is chasing us right now. Just breathe.
Michel blinked, taken aback by the lack of any complaint. He looked at the red light, then at Jean, and let out a long, heavy sigh. They said nothing more, but the tension in the car dissipated.
By mid-morning, Jean ran into Lucas near the photocopiers. The young analyst looked pale, clutching a folder. He had just come from the director’s office. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this, Jean,” Lucas blurted out, his voice breaking. “The numbers don’t add up, the director tore me apart... I’m going to get fired. I’m a disaster.”
Jean recalled his own moments of despair while pulling weeds in his yard. He walked over to the water cooler, filled a cup, and handed it to him.
–Drink,–he said.
–But the report...
–The report is just paper, Lucas. By tomorrow, it’ll be confetti in the shredder. Drink the water.
Lucas took a sip with trembling hands.
–Don’t try to fix the whole year today,– Jean said, placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder. –Just go to your desk, sit down, and look at the first cell in your Excel sheet. Just one. And then the next.
By seven in the evening, the building began to empty out. In the past, Jean used to stay late just to put off returning to his apartment. This time, he shut down his computer right on time.
He walked toward the subway station. In the distance, he could hear the train approaching. Dozens of office workers began rushing through the corridors. Jean didn’t quicken his pace; he let the crowd surge past him. When he reached the platform, the doors were already closing. He felt no frustration. He stood before the tracks, shoved his hands into his pockets, and waited for the next one. He was in no hurry. He was no longer running away from himself.
Thoughts
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Michel calling Jean's silence a blessing would have stung me way more than it seems to sting Jean. My guess is Michel cracks before Lucas does.
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Handing Lucas a cup of water and calling the report tomorrow's shredder fodder is the old neighbour with his geraniums all over again. Jean finally passing on what he got told in that yard.
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Returning to the office felt like putting on a suit that had shrunk in the closet. Everything at the audit firm remained the same, yet Jean felt he no longer fit within the seams of that routine.