Short stories series #1

Prologue : This story was inspired by a real-life event which had left a deep impression on the psyche of the author.

Lost and Found

Though the morning was bright and cheery, Troy felt brokenhearted. Some two months back her steps had lost the usual spring and lightness. Today she walked with heavy steps and downcast eyes. No smile lighted up her face. She would always walk the short distance from the train station to her office, across a lovely park. Some mornings, if she was early, she would stop by the lake to watch the swans, flamingoes and storks as they played their mating games and foraged for food. She would look at the flowers and maybe sit down on one of the park’s benches to listen to the chirping birds and buzzing bees. Nature’s glory inspired her creative mind. Today, she could neither see nor hear nor feel. There was numbness within her heart. Why must it hurt so much? We always take things for granted till we lose it and then we hanker after it. When we are in possession of it we do not appreciate nor value it. Now, she felt an acute sense of loss.

She was deep in thought when one of the young animators at the office, Bryan, caught up with her. “Good morning, Troy, may I walk with you?”
“Good morning, Bryan. I hope you don’t mind if I don’t talk. I’m not in the mood for talking. There’s a lot on my mind lately.” She forced a smile.
“No problem. Creative people are almost always weird. I’m the same. I’ll discuss the stuff you want me to do for your documentary later at the office,” Bryan said, slowing down to keep in step with her.
“I’ll call you. Sorry for not being very good company, Bryan. I’m not in the mood for an intellectual discussion or an argument but I must correct your misconception about talented people.” She was feeling a little cross with Bryan for using the word “weird”.
“And what’s that?’
“For your information, we aren’t weird. Just because we think and see things differently from the rest of the crowd, people feel uncomfortable with us.”
“I’ll take back the word “weird” We all have our off-days.”
“It’s okay, Bryan. Just don’t use that word to describe those in our fraternity. People are just uncomfortable with the unfamiliar.”
“I’ll remember.”

Bryan was very new at the office and very young but he was the most talented animator. She gave him a reassuring smile and patted his shoulder. She knew smiles soften the face and endear us to people. They walked on in silence after that until they came in full view of the office. Due to its proximity to the park, Troy would normally spend her lunch hour out in the park, alone, in order to dream up stories. At the park, all sounds of traffic were blocked off by the huge trees. She could easily lose herself in her own world. This morning she felt like turning away from the office and spending the whole morning at the park where she could get some peace of mind.

She dreaded going to the office. Her room used to be her sanctuary but now it felt like a prison. If there was anything Troy feared most in life, it was the loss of freedom and the love she had come to expect from certain people in her life. Some people needn’t love us unconditionally and we have to earn that love. She had to learn this the hard way. Bryan held the door to the building for her and she thanked him. They parted ways.

“Good morning Troy. The editor has called for a meeting. Make sure you attend. It’s at ten,” said Helen, Troy’s secretary, as she handed Troy the note calling for the meeting. She only wanted to see the creative staff. Why did she call for a meeting at such short notice?
“Thanks, Helen. Please give me a tinkle five minutes before ten. I’ve lots of “rubbish” swirling about in my head. I tend to be very forgetful. If I don’t attend, I’ll surely be shot.” Troy put two fingers to her left temple for emphasis. “Any messages?”
“One. And it’s sealed. Must be confidential.”
“Most probably,” answered Troy, pretending to sound indifferent.

Troy went into the privacy of her room. At the door she looked at the sign in gold letters. It read “Troy Hardy, Senior Writer”. Feeling a sense of disquiet, she opened the sealed note with nervous fingers. There was a terse message from the editor. It said, “I am returning the manuscript for the Discovery documentary you wrote. I want you to rewrite it.” The editor had never written her messages before. It would always be a face-to-face discussion. Moreover, there was no explanation. How the hell was she to know what to rewrite? Hopefully, when the manuscript came back, there would be instructions on what and how to rewrite. If there were none, would she dare ask?

For the life of her, Troy couldn’t understand what the coldness was all about. Yes, it was true that there was a little fracas at the office over an intellectual slur the other day and she was at the centre of it. Damn her bloody temper! In the heat of the moment she had said things that should have just been thoughts. She had to learn that she couldn’t get her way all the time. She had been so egocentric she had forgotten that others had feelings too. However, she was aware that a talented but undisciplined mind would be a great disservice to the owner. Like all dreamy souls the world over, she was similarly cranky, eccentric and idiosyncratic. Most of the time she lived in a world of her own and seldom bothered about the pettiness of others. Writers were particularly afflicted with this constant feeling of angst.

How the devil was she going to find out the real reason for this sudden change of heart as the editor had distanced herself? That sudden change was frightening. How could somebody so warm and loving turn so hard and cold? Writers were intense people and they could sense even a slight change very quickly. How was Troy going to approach the editor when she had turned away?

For the past two months the sadness had weighed heavily on her heart. She had avoided the editor and her work had suffered. It was worse as she couldn’t talk to people she thought superficial or pretentious or treacherous and there were many such people about her. The relationship between a writer and her editor must be a very close one because they must always discuss the details. The writer must know what exactly the editor wanted. If there was no close rapport the final piece could never be excellent. There was no denying the writer was the talent but the editor was the driver. If there was no meeting of the minds the finished product would have no sense of direction.

Troy now waited anxiously for ten o’clock. If she could she would avoid the meeting for it grieved her to look upon the angry face of her usually smiling editor. She was so used to seeing that smiling face everyday; it now hurt her terribly to as much as glance at so much anger. She never knew so much anger could be mirrored on such a gentle face. She must be the cause of the pain but tried as she might, Troy couldn’t put her finger on it. Her editor must be hurting dreadfully. Troy was wondering why this pettiness after she had humbled herself, apologized and even went to the extent of asking for forgiveness over the fracas. She had always thought of people in power as being petty but her editor was different. Now she wasn’t so sure anymore. If there were two things she despised in life they were pettiness and dishonesty.

Being a writer at heart, Troy was petty about only two things – language and integrity. Life must be lived in accordance with certain precepts in order to live it well. She would always try to play fair as far as possible. Being a writer she was particular about her language and expression.
The phone rang and Troy started in her chair. She was lost in her own world.
“Troy, you said to remind you about the meeting. It’s five minutes to the hour.”
“Thanks Helen. I’ve got to go.”

She had no choice but to go for the meeting or worse was to come. She headed for the meeting room with a heavy heart. Was the editor going to make drastic changes that might affect her well-being? Was she going to be sent to Timbuctoo? She knew her editor could never be a vindictive person but she was anxious all the same. If she was a ruthless person she would have made Troy’s life miserable in the past two months as an editor had much power. These people didn’t get to where they were by a fluke of luck. They had the experience and the resolve.

A writer could never write well unless she had peace of mind. These past couple of months she had had to push the agony to the very recesses of her mind every time she sat down to write or it would intrude. How was she going to put a stop to this “cold war” unless the editor wanted to talk? Being the subordinate she could initiate a discussion if she had really wanted to press the editor but she was too fearful of what she might discover.

Troy was hardly conscious of what went on at the meeting. A lot of technicalities were discussed. She did not dare look at her editor’s face because she was afraid of the pain she saw on that tender face and in those kind eyes. Troy heard the firm voice in the distance and tried to switch her ears off. Was she glad when the long-drawn out meeting mercifully finally ended! She staggered back to her room in a daze, thinking of spending a blissful hour at the park, just daydreaming.

Then, she saw that documentary she had written for Discovery on her desk and was dismayed when she found no annotations or notes as to the changes that were required. It could only mean one thing – her editor wanted to see her. Maybe she too wanted an end to this debilitating pain. If Troy delayed this important piece of work the Big Boss was going to jump on her. That would be even more painful. The memory of that one fateful encounter was still fresh in her mind, as if it was only yesterday. It was strange that after all the sweet words had been forgotten, the cruel ones remained forever etched in blood into the psyche. Troy had felt violated, psychologically raped. Her self-esteem had been brutalized and torn to shreds that day.

Troy was now caught in a Catch-22 situation. She could either spend an hour at the park, pretending that the Sword of Damocles wasn’t hanging over her head by a single horsehair, or she could immediately arrange for a discussion. A little unpleasantness in life couldn’t be avoided and was better than having the Sword of Damocles come plunging down into her chest. With panic rising in her throat, she found herself at the door of the editor’s office.

“It’s good of you to come. You can’t expect me to come to you.” Troy nodded sheepishly.
“I had wanted to come much earlier but there was no opportunity and to be frank, I was petrified.”
“Why do you have to fear me? You know I’ve never abused my power.”
“It’s not that. I was afraid of having to look at the pain in your face and your eyes. It hurts me to see that.”
“Oh, that’s so silly of you. Just remember to crawl into the mind of the other person next time you want to say something. And be more aware of what’s happening around you. You can’t do what you did to me. And anyway, I’m your editor so you’ve no right to be rude or harsh to me.”
“Yes, I always know that and I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware of what I was doing then.” Troy felt totally humbled by her editor’s gentle words. That’s the humbling power of gentle words.

The truth was revealed to her and all the rough edges ironed out. She was shocked at the truth for she was not in the least aware that she had caused her editor so much unnecessary pain. The shock was too much and unashamedly she broke down. It was a relief to finally be free of this gnawing uncertainty and to be forgiven and loved again.
“Now, don’t cry. It’s good to resolve any misgivings. Anyway, I wasn’t planning on doing anything to harm you. I was simply hurt by your treatment,” said the editor, kindly handing Troy some tissues.

“I wasn’t afraid of that but it hurts me to know I caused you so much pain.”
“Let’s look ahead to better times.” And then the all-important smile returned, the smile Troy would always treasure for she had missed that smile for two months. Angry faces of people she loved always upset her. The editor explained what she wanted changed for the Discovery documentary and then sent her packing.

This time she was going to cherish this relationship in which she had taken so much for granted until she thought she had lost it. She forgot about lunch or the park that day and started reworking her Discovery piece. Despite the pressure of work, that night Troy slept soundly, after nearly two months of restless, unhappy sleep.