From Benched
by Cydney Chadwick
The man once had power and prestige in his life, had both economic and community status, and with it came many friends, many admirers. But he made some bad decisions, wound up losing a great deal of his money, his power, and most of his friends. The man does laundry. He sits on a bench. He writes down telephone messages for his wife, and tries new recipes for the evening meal. His cooking improves as his good humor declines. He isn't sure what to do--and knows he can't do much, so during the laundry's drying cycle, he goes to his bench with a notebook and composes a list. He begins to save the allowance his wife allots him, and when he has enough, hurries to a call-box and begins dialing the numbers he has written down. No one is home at that time of day, but he puts on his most jovial voice to leave his messages, asking if the person would like to get together sometime. If the woman does, she is to return his call on Tuesday through Thursday, between 9:05 a.m. and 2:45 p.m. However if he is not in, she may not leave a message; if someone other than himself answers, she is to pretend she is a telemarketer; calling on a bank holiday is out of the question. In his house the dryer comes to a halt and the warm, fluffy clothes lie still as he finishes his last call and slowly walks back across the park. When the women return home from work in the evening they play their messages or access their voice mail, listen to the man's proposal and laugh, thinking it is some sort of joke, that they must really make more of an effort to stay in touch with old acquaintances--and promptly forget about the calls. Some of the spouses or boyfriends of the women mumble something about a weird message that was left--it sounded like a nutter, and why was he able to contact them? A recipient of one of his calls, who is as lonely and bored as the man, gets in touch at one of the appointed times. He is very happy to hear from her and names a fashionable place near the park to meet. He greets her on the restaurant's stairs, and the woman is shocked by his appearance: his clothes are stained and dirty, and as he embraces her, she is aware that he has not bathed. He takes her arm and escorts her into the foyer, leaves a false name with the hostess and launches into a diatribe about how the establishment would have a much larger profit margin if there was a neon sign marking its locale. He begins to describe what the sign might look like. A queue forms behind him, of which he is unaware. Startled and concerned, the woman steps away from the queue, bows her head and tries to decide if there is time to say she is not feeling well and must leave immediately, but there is not. When they are seated they note the changes in one another. Each decides the other looks a little worse for wear, accordingly redouble their efforts to seem excited and enthusiastic. The man happily calls her attention to his bell-bottom trousers, which he has had since the 1970s and has slimmed down enough to be able to include, once again, in his wardrobe-- this followed by a suggestion that they drink alcoholic beverages. The woman can think of no reason to decline. When the man is sure the libations have had an effect, he makes his move--encouraging her to present a paper at a conference on a subject about which she has little knowledge. He has seen her name on a conference advertisement. When she explains that she really has no expertise on that subject, she remembers that he, in fact, does. He brightens ever so slightly as she recalls this. For the remainder of the reunion, the man flares his nostrils at certain things the woman says, to impart that they are a bit too unconsidered and facile. Over a brandy he makes subtle but derogatory comments about the woman's last two books.