© James J. Doyle, Jr., a.k.a. Grandpa Jim
“Don’t jump.
“Why?”
“It’s a long way down.”
“I know that. That’s why I’m jumping.”
“The market may go up.”
“It’s down and I’m going down. Leave me alone.”
“Wait! I just got an urgent text. For you. Odd. On my phone.”
“And?”
“It says, “There’s time.”
“That’s it. Give me a break. . . . I’m out of here”
“No!” The co-worker moves carefully to the edge of the roof and looks down. “What . . . he stopped . . . and he’s floating?”
BREAKING NEWS. AROUND THE WORLD. FINANCIAL PLANNERS, WEALTH MANAGERS, STOCKBROKERS SUSPENDED IN MID-AIR. MARKET HAS NOT RECOVERED. REPEAT. MARKET HAS NOT RESPONDED.
Time Lapse: None – Bodies Floating, Persons Elsewhere
He shakes his head, glances around, and then taps the shoulder of the person in front of him. “Why are we waiting in line?’
The middle-aged individual in a worn blue suit and orange tie with bright purple polka dots turns. “Oh, hi. I’m Sid. Sid Stocks. What’s your name?”
“Fred. Why are we in this line?”
“Fred what?”
“Financial analyst. That’s what I do.” He touches a finger to his chin. “It’s what . . . what I did. I think.”
“Right. Well, now we’re waiting to get our class schedules. For the next semester. This is my third. I’m a fast learner. You?”
“First semester. . . . I guess.”
“Then you’ll have the basics.”
He stood in the back of the room. It was his first class, his first assigned class. “Careful Carpentry for those Initially Challenged.” An odd title. Nothing to do with what he did or who he was. The instructor motioned him over to a table saw and a piece of wood.
Time Lapse Elsewhere: Start of the Second Semester
There was an open seat near the window. He cradled his decaf coffee latte and carefully stepped between the people in line, angling through the crowded tables.
“Is this seat open?”
She looked up from the book on the table and touched the rim of her drink. “I guess.”
“Thanks.” He sat and smiled. “I’m Fred, Financial Analyst.”
She leaned back. “I’m Sally, Wealth Manager.”
“Did you jump too?”
“Do you always start conversations like this?”
“Sorry. I don’t know why I did that. I guess because I’ve been trying to figure it out since I got here.” He cradled his hot cup. “We don’t seem to talk about it.”
“I didn’t jump. I don’t know what happened.” She frowned. “Now I’m here. For my second semester.”
“Me too. Second semester. . . .” He changed the subject. “What’re you reading?”
She ran a finger down a page. “It’s a new class. ‘Design Tips for Beginners with Helpful Footnotes.’ Odd title. Nothing to do with what I did or who I was.” She stared out the window.
“You wanna go to a movie?” he blurted. “There’s a Western playing. ‘The Magnificent Seven.’ The old one. With Yul Brenner and Steve McQueen.”
A thin smile formed on her lips. “I love old movies.” She looked straight into his eyes, “Yes, Fred Analyst, I would like to go to a movie.”
Time Lapse Elsewhere: End of the Second Semester
“How’d you do?” he asks.
“All A’s.” She smiles. “And you?”
“Same as you. All A’s. Even in ‘Have You Ever Used a Power Tool.’ Actually, I’m pretty good with that stuff.” She stifles a laugh. “Building things. With my hands. . . . I really am.”
“I’m sure you are. . . . What about Sid Stocks? I worry about him.”
“I worry more about his ties. Where does he find them?”
“Seriously, Fred. How did Sid do?”
“Couple B’s, a C, and a D.”
She sighed. “I’m afraid he’s in for at least another semester.”
“Are we, Sally? Are we too?”
“I don’t know, Fred.” She propped her elbows on the table and touched a finger to her chin. “I feel I’m ready for something, something new, but I don’t know what . . . or when.”
Time Lapse: End of Third Semester Elsewhere; 24 Hours Since Floating
BREAKING NEWS. MARKET UP. ANALYSTS DOWN. AROUND THE WORLD. PLANNERS, MANGERS, STOCKBROKERS FLOAT SAFELY TO GROUND. NOT TALKING. WALKING AWAY.
He dialed the cell phone, put it to his ear and waited.
“Mom?”
“Yes. Is that you, Fred? I’ve been worried. With all the news. It’s been so confusing.”
“I’m fine, Mom. Listen, I need a favor. Is that room above the barn still available?”
“Yes, son. The tenant left a month ago.”
“Good. Can I use it?”
“Of course, Fred, but there’s plenty of room in the house. It’s just me.”
“I know, Mom. I want to be near Dad’s tools.”
Time Lapse: 6 Months after Landing
He angled between the tables to the open seat near the window.
She looked up and smiled. “Fred. Is it really you?” Her smile faded. “I’ve missed our times together. The old movies.” She brushed a tear away and brightened. “Sit. Sit. Tell me about yourself. How did you find me?”
“It wasn’t easy, Sally Manager. . . .”
She interrupted. “Please, don’t call me that. I’m a designer now. Interior design. For new homes and construction.”
“Are you with a firm?”
“No. I’m on my own.”
“Good.”
She tilted her head and gave him a very becoming look, an almost knowing look.
“Why good?” she asked.
“Because I think we should go into business together. I’m a builder now. Homes and new construction. Remodeling. And I need a good designer.”
“And?”
“My Mom has plenty of room in the house. I’m in the apartment above the barn. I work out of there. And I have plenty of work. More than I can handle. It’s upstate. In the country. Away from the city.”
“Your Mom?”
“I told her about you. That we were friends.”
“Friends?”
“Good friends.” He gave her a sheepish look. “It’s perfectly safe, Sally. Mom’s right there. I mean. . . .”
She let him hang for a few seconds . . . and then, “Yes, Fred Carpenter. I would like to meet your mother.”
BREAKING NEWS. ANAYSTS AND MANGERS LEAVING. NO EXPLANATIONS. MARKET MIXED. MANAGERS AND ANALYSTS LEAVING. SOME TOGETHER.
Time Lapse: One Year Later
Fred and Sally married on her birthday.
Together, they started “Sally and Fred’s Design and Remodeling.”
Their motto is: “There’s Time for a New Life for You.”
Business is booming.
And Sid finally made it.
He’s a barista at Coffee Land nearby in town.
He loves it and everyone loves him and his crazy mismatched ties.