had just gone right out the window, and he wasn't even sure it mattered. It was utterly and completely crazy. He wondered if he was finally losing his mind after the stress of the past year, and he thought of calling friends in London just to bounce it off them, but he had lost touch with almost everyone. He hadn't wanted to share his grief with anyone, and he had been exhausted by the questions, the probing, and the gossip. Even their sympathy had been exhausting. In the end, it was easier to be on his own, and he had also figured out that most of them were seeing a fair amount of Carole and Simon, and he didn't want to hear about that either. So he just sat there alone, wondering what Carole would say if she knew he had just left the firm, for several months, if not forever. She would probably be stunned, he thought, but on the other hand, the beauty of his situation now was that he didn't owe anyone any explanations.
He packed his bags that night, tidied everything, threw a few things out of the refrigerator, and was ready to roll at eight o'clock the next morning. He took a cab downtown to pick up the car, and as he passed the department stores, he could see the brightly lit Christmas windows. He was glad now that he was getting out of town. It was going to be hard watching everyone else in the office celebrate, listening to their plans, hearing them talk about their wives, and families and children. He had none of that now. He had no one. He didn't even have a job. A year before, he had been a man with a wife, a house, a job, and all the trappings that went with a ten-year marriage. But suddenly, he had none of that. He had a rented car, and two bags, and a handful of maps of New England.
The car's got snow tires, the man at the car rental explained, but you'd better put on chains if you go too far North. I'd say anything north of Connecticut, he advised, and Charlie thanked him. Spending Christmas in New England? The man smiled, and Charlie nodded.
I think I'll be going skiing.
There's lots of snow this year. Don't break anything! he warned, and then wished Charlie a merry Christmas as he left. Charlie had already asked him if he could return the car in Boston. He thought he might ski for a while, and then leave the car there, and fly from Boston to London. He had no reason to go to New York, not for now at least. Maybe in six months. Or maybe never.
He loaded the white station wagon quickly and drove across town. It was a decent car, and there would be plenty of room for skis if he decided to rent them. For the moment, there were only his two bags in the back, and the chains they had provided. He was wearing blue jeans, a heavy sweater, and a ski parka he had brought with him. And he was smiling to himself as he turned the heat on. He flipped on the radio then and started singing.
He stopped and bought a cup of coffee and a danish before he headed to the FDR Drive. He glanced at the map as he took a sip, and then he started the car again. He had no idea where he was going. North, just as he had said to the man. To Connecticut ' then Massachusetts ' maybe Vermont. Vermont might be the right kind of place to spend Christmas. He could ski right through the holidays. People would be in good spirits. And in the meantime all he had to do was drive, keep his eye on the road, watch the snow, and try not to look back over his shoulder. He knew now, more than he ever had before, that there was nothing there, nothing to reach back for, or even take with him.
He was singing softly to himself as he headed out of the city, and he smiled, looking straight ahead. All he had now was the future.
Chapter 3
IT WAS STARTING to snow as Charlie crossed the Triborough Bridge and carefully made his way to the Hutchinson River Parkway, but he didn't mind. It felt more like Christmas somehow, and he felt surprisingly festive as he drove north and began to hum Christmas carols. He was in remarkably good spirits for a man without a job,
He packed his bags that night, tidied everything, threw a few things out of the refrigerator, and was ready to roll at eight o'clock the next morning. He took a cab downtown to pick up the car, and as he passed the department stores, he could see the brightly lit Christmas windows. He was glad now that he was getting out of town. It was going to be hard watching everyone else in the office celebrate, listening to their plans, hearing them talk about their wives, and families and children. He had none of that now. He had no one. He didn't even have a job. A year before, he had been a man with a wife, a house, a job, and all the trappings that went with a ten-year marriage. But suddenly, he had none of that. He had a rented car, and two bags, and a handful of maps of New England.
The car's got snow tires, the man at the car rental explained, but you'd better put on chains if you go too far North. I'd say anything north of Connecticut, he advised, and Charlie thanked him. Spending Christmas in New England? The man smiled, and Charlie nodded.
I think I'll be going skiing.
There's lots of snow this year. Don't break anything! he warned, and then wished Charlie a merry Christmas as he left. Charlie had already asked him if he could return the car in Boston. He thought he might ski for a while, and then leave the car there, and fly from Boston to London. He had no reason to go to New York, not for now at least. Maybe in six months. Or maybe never.
He loaded the white station wagon quickly and drove across town. It was a decent car, and there would be plenty of room for skis if he decided to rent them. For the moment, there were only his two bags in the back, and the chains they had provided. He was wearing blue jeans, a heavy sweater, and a ski parka he had brought with him. And he was smiling to himself as he turned the heat on. He flipped on the radio then and started singing.
He stopped and bought a cup of coffee and a danish before he headed to the FDR Drive. He glanced at the map as he took a sip, and then he started the car again. He had no idea where he was going. North, just as he had said to the man. To Connecticut ' then Massachusetts ' maybe Vermont. Vermont might be the right kind of place to spend Christmas. He could ski right through the holidays. People would be in good spirits. And in the meantime all he had to do was drive, keep his eye on the road, watch the snow, and try not to look back over his shoulder. He knew now, more than he ever had before, that there was nothing there, nothing to reach back for, or even take with him.
He was singing softly to himself as he headed out of the city, and he smiled, looking straight ahead. All he had now was the future.
Chapter 3
IT WAS STARTING to snow as Charlie crossed the Triborough Bridge and carefully made his way to the Hutchinson River Parkway, but he didn't mind. It felt more like Christmas somehow, and he felt surprisingly festive as he drove north and began to hum Christmas carols. He was in remarkably good spirits for a man without a job,
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