Unsure Balance

Would you want to know what's going on in there?

- Sophie, did you cheat on him? - I asked again as she didn't answer at first. She looked in my eyes long, as if she tried to read my mind. Like if she was trying to decide whether she can trust me, whether she can tell it exactly to me. Would it change in our relationship if she told me her secret? Would it change the worth of our common past?
- No - she finally uttered.
She didn't convince me.
- Would you tell if you did?
- No.
- Well great. You just easily say no, and when I ask back, you admit that you won't even tell if it was a yes, putting that whole no into parenthesis.
She shrugged and with that she considered the topic closed. I didn't ask any longer, I didn't really want to know. I asked if anyone was following her.
- No, nobody - she answered troubled. - I just don't know anymore whom I can trust.
- In me – I said, putting my hand on her shoulder again.
I only learnt it way later, from her diary, what happened on that weekend.

After the official program I excused myself out. John, my boss was not happy, but he accepted the situation. "See you at dinner" - he said and left for the wellness center. I bumped into a few of the partners at the hall. There were a few women amongst them too. They didn't seem to care at all that the meeting continues in the pool.
I called the kids from my room. I learned that Peter passed them on to his parents. At that point I was sorry that I didn't join the others, but it was too late to reconsider. I laid down on the bed and I was thinking what we could have done wrong and how could we get over this whole thing.
Dinner turned out great, the two sides got closer to each other and the initial distrust seemed to melt away. We drank champagne and chatted. The boss of the advertising agency asked a lot about my job, but he wasn't too pushy. Then they went back to the pool and I retired to my room. I was clicking around on the TV, but I found nothing I would like. I didn't think of bringing a book with me, so finding nothing better I was leafing through the next day's presentation. I turned my cell phone off, I didn't want Peter to reach me. I simply had nothing to say to him. I didn't want to admit that he won, I again met his expectations, even if nobody meant a meat market here.
I was just dozing away when the hotel phone rung. „Peter, so he did reach me” - that was my first thought, so I didn't take the call. In two minutes, somebody was knocking on my door.
It was John. He asked me to talk over the next day's to-do list. I stepped in his way.
- I got a few important info tidbits. We need to change the strategy – he said, just as if we were in the office. - Come, I'll buy you a goodnight cocktail and we can talk it over – he stepped back from my doorway. - We are about to make the deal of the century.
I didn't move, I could just see the blame in Peter's eyes.
- Bring tomorrow's pressie too! - John smiled cunningly. And I followed him obediently. Peter's image disappeared into mist.

My father came around eleven for the kids. He didn't ask anything, I'm sure he saw I need to go. Father and son can understand each other without words. I went over to my neighbor and asked for my buddy's bike. He wasn't too happy to lend it, but I didn't care. I told Sophie myself to go with our own car. The long drive can give a lot of opportunities, and her boss would've only been too happy to come and pick her up. I didn't want to borrow my parents' car, until then I was too much in love with the thought of blazing down the highway on a bike. Sophie undermined my idea of commuting on a motorbike when we had the money for it.
- The kids need a father, not an organ donor – she said every single time when I mentioned my idea.
Victor is about the same size as I am, so I begged off his leather suit too. He was very close to saying no, but he could see that in this situation he just can't do it to me. I topped out at 150 kph on the highway (translator's note: legal speed limit is 130kph) and after long long weeks, for the first time, I was happy. It was mercilessly cold, but I didn't care. Finally I felt like a man again who can keep his and his lady's fate in his hands. I arrived at the hotel around 2pm. I let out a sigh of relief: our car was there in the parking lot. At least she didn't lie about where she was going. I parked the bike far away, even though I knew she would never recognize me in this outfit.
On the road I imagined it a hundred times or more to storm into the hotel and ask about Sophie. The receptionist is all confused, then he tries to keep me from rushing to the pool.
But I got unsure. I thought over what I could find.
1. I find Sophie in the pool, her boss yanking his paws out of her bra with a scared face. (This one I didn't want to see anyways.)
2. Sophie gets cheered up by my arrival and we end up in bed. (This one I didn't count on as it hasn't happened in so long.)
3. Sophie gets upset that I'm spying after him. (This one was the most likely, but understandably I didn't really want to go through that one.)
So I left for home, but after a few miles I reconsidered: if I came so far, I really have to investigate it.
In the hotel parking lot I got unsure again.
I tried to decide what would be more cowardly. Going in or not going in, this is the question. I was staring at the windows, I tried to guess which one is Sophie's.
Finally I didn't go in, but it wasn't all my decision: the security guard pointed me out, I guess he found the helmet-covered biker staring at the building. I didn't wait until I got kicked out, I just hopped on the bike and rode home.

All the way home I was thinking whether or not I would want to know what's going on in there.

The Terror of Fear

Cramp in your stomach, more and more poisonous air around you... Revolt or resign?

A week after being fired we went on a merit vacation. No pun intended. I got it when I was still a great asset to the company, two or three months before I was kicked out. I have the cover letter to the coupon even now: congratulations on your outstanding performance. It was for two, but with a little extra payment we could take the kids too. I could see they didn't understand this whole thing: if their father was such a good employee, why was he fired? The answer, of course, was simple: I got the bonus when our old CEO was still at his place. And when he was stood up from his chair, they used the recession downsizing to get rid of all his men too. But you can't just take back a gift.
After the leave of the CEO the gossip started immediately about a certain list being made by the new guys, listing all who will have to go. I didn't quite believe it yet, but in a few weeks I heard it with my own ears from G. (who was on the winners' side) that there's not only a list but also a lot of backstage haggling about who stays on it, who gets off, who gets on. G. also told me I was on it too.
By then the atmosphere became unbearable. The editorial office was completely split into two camps. The later winners sat down in a corner to discuss things multiple times a day. And the others were just guessing what it can be they talk about. Only the years of routine was keeping the crew together. And the fear. It did matter whom you shared a word with, whom you sat with at lunch. I would never have thought that only a few people in only a few weeks can poison the whole life of the channel. One evening I went home totally upset. Sophie got it immediately, that something must be completely amiss. As I told her what happened that day, I had to realize that I had nothing specific, nothing tangible about it. Just a lot of guesses, hints, unfinished sentences and even more speculations. I decided I would ask my question in front of everyone the next day: What is happening on the unannounced meetings? If they are about the future of the channel, why don't they call the others too? Is there really a death list? If there isn't, what made the atmosphere so bad that everyone would talk about it still? Where did everything go wrong?
Sophie tried to calm me down, she said I shouldn't look for trouble. If I grasped the situation wrong, I will just ridicule myself. And if I am right, what do I win on facing them to it? My argument was that I needed it for my own peace of mind, to see if there is anything to be revealed. Sophie just tried to tell me not to be naive, I can't win anything, but I can lose a lot on yelling. She didn't quite convince me, but I kept quiet. Especially that the next day the corridor gossip was about the new guys having spies on the loser side, who will tell them who said what about them, to whom, when and why, who meets the old ones outside the channel and whom they meet. Of course at first I thought it was an exaggeration too, but when I wanted to ask G. about this and the death list, he asked to meet outside the office, as in the current situation it wouldn't be fortunate. On the agreed day he still didn't call me, if I called him he hung up. Days later, after recording a show he pulled me aside, took a deep breath and just poured it all at me, that he didn't turn up because he was trying to get me off the list, and in that case it wasn't a good idea for us to be seen together. I didn't quite understand what he meant, why can't we talk, since we're good buddies. He thought they don't know that's why he wants to get me off of that list? Or he had to deny me to be able to stick to the winners? I didn't ask anything about it, I rather just kept making myself believe that me, my work is needed, will be needed. I'm not in danger.

Whether or not there was a death list, I don't know. I suspect they have reached their goal just by spreading the gossip of the making of it. As also I was contemplating going on my ownr. Of course it was more just playing with the idea: during a recession you don't just leave a secure job without another one already waiting.

I was fired roughly a week after I talked to G. I've been waiting for his call since then...
So, merit vacation with the kids. They are having a ball, the hotel life, the buffet dinners, the jacuzzi are still all new for them, but my mood still touches theirs too. And also Sophie's. I can see how stressed she is, I am trying to comfort her. But also I'm infinitely desperate, I'm constantly thinking where I went wrong.

Peter decided to write his blog about the story of his firing this weekend. (Many of you have asked where the original blog is, but no use to search anymore, it was taken off. I have the whole thing, but no, I won't publish it all at once, because the timeline and Sophie's reactions are crucial to understanding why everything happened this way. It's not a book where you can just jump ahead, and the very end is still unknown to all.) Sophie didn't like the idea of blogging, she was afraid Peter would burn up bridges in his disappointment:

The "merit trip" was horrible. Peter was unbearably stressed all weekend. He kept yelling at the kids even when they gave him no reasons. He kept just thinking and thinking how he could take revenge on those who, in his opinion, screwed him up. We were sitting in the jacuzzi, I was waiting for him to finally calm down for a second so I can tell him the good news, but he just chased himself deeper and deeper into his fits. And then he came up with the idea of the century: he will write a blog about how he was messed with. Well that was all we needed! Even this way I could barely keep him somewhat calm, how will it go when he will keep himself on edge with the writing? All he will do is to get the whole business on his back. He has no political sense whatsoever, and if I would try and smoothen his words a bit, he will just yell that I've always been way too compromising. I remember how long I was arguing for his most important job being finding a new job at the moment and that he shouldn't run his chances with spreading out the dirty sheets. I thought I won him over. He gave up on the idea and he started to calm me with saying that things will soon turn around. For a moment he was so nice I almost even told him the great news, but then I had a better idea: after the kids go to bed, I will seduce him with a glass or two of champagne - I even made a few hints at that - and tell it just afterwards. And then nothing happened according to plan. Instead of champagne he had a beer (he knows how much I hate when his breath smells like beer when we cuddle up), then he refused my advances "because of the kisd". He said the walls are thin, they would hear us. The walls were exactly the same as at home. And he was just the same distant as at home since he was fired. But it was an old ritual of ours to try out every hotel bed we slept in. In ten years, this one was the first time we didn't.