The Book of Mistakes

DAVID

PRESENT DAY

The alarm went off at precisely 5:30. It was Thursday. The weekend was in sight, but the week’s responsibilities felt less than halfway done. The thoughts of work were stabbing into David’s mind, surgically waking him even as he tried to push them away.

Shifting in bed, David reached over, hit snooze, and tried to enjoy another ten minutes of sleep. When the annoying sound blared through his apartment’s bedroom again, he reluctantly pushed himself out of bed and shambled into the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, he did a double take.

His hair had morphed into something way beyond typical bed head, swooping up and to the left in such a dramatic way that it made him smile. Though he was quite clearly no longer a teenager, he saw glimmers of his younger self. His brown eyes retained their mixture of wonder and amusement. Most would describe him as handsome, though he knew he wasn’t headed for the big screen anytime soon.

Turning the shower to its hottest setting, he mentally coaxed the water to heat up, knowing that was unlikely in his aging apartment building. About fifteen minutes later, he was in the kitchen, making coffee and scrolling through his e-mail.

Worry was working on him earlier in the day than usual. When had it started? David remembered how carefree he’d felt when he graduated from college and took his current job, almost two years ago. Moving into his own place was almost anticlimactic. No big deal, nothing special. It felt right. At the beginning, he would have described himself as neither overly confident nor nervous, just ready for what would come next.

Somewhere in the last year, things had shifted, and not exactly for the better. His paychecks weren’t coming fast enough. Unpaid bills were piling up on the table. Those two credit cards, originally for convenience, now had growing balances. It’s funny, he thought, when he took the job and signed the lease, he never imagined that it would be anything other than easy. He hadn’t spent as much time developing a budget as he should have. Truth be told, he really hadn’t spent any time developing a budget. He hadn’t even thought about utilities, and he had definitely miscalculated the tax bite from his pay.

And then there was his job. It had started out well. His boss liked him, took him under his wing, and acted more like an older brother or mentor rather than a superior. That lulled him into a false sense of security. Three months in and his boss was off to join a new start-up, leaving David reporting to someone new who wasn’t invested in him and who didn’t laugh at his jokes.

That was fine enough until he messed up. It was really nothing, at least to him. But his new boss acted as if it was a blot on his record that would never be erased. He couldn’t believe it mattered that much. After all, he had only forgotten to call back a customer. The company wasn’t in danger.

Two weeks ago, he finally learned what was really up. He never thought a small office could be so political, nor that someone would be so underhanded. Someone had clearly set him up for a fall. It wasn’t really the customer call. It was more. He was blamed for a raft of things he didn’t do, most of them stemming from rumors that seemed to originate directly with the boss.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He thought of one of his friends, who’d graduated just a few years before him. Quick promotions. Big money. His name regularly in the news. At first, David was genuinely happy for him. But as he toiled on in what seemed like a meaningless job and struggled with the bills, he found it difficult to stomach his friend’s success. And then he hated himself for thinking that way.

Scrolling through his e-mail, he saw an unexpected, terse message from his boss. He read it again and again in an attempt to interpret the meaning behind the words.

That was it. No explanation.

He felt his pulse quicken, and he sucked in a breath. His eyes involuntarily closed and he massaged his temples, willing it all to go away.

Looking back at his messages, he saw another one. This one was a cheery note from Mom. He put his phone down and took another sip of coffee.

His parents had no idea what it was like. They were proud of their college graduate who was gainfully employed at a good company. They had bragged about his accomplishments, embarrassing him a bit, within their circle of friends. He hadn’t shared that his doting boss was gone, how his new boss had him unfairly under the microscope, or that he was struggling. He didn’t share that he felt his job was meaningless, the daily repetition boring him to tears as he slogged through one e-mail after another. Answering these e-mails drained him, though he was required to respond within a day at most. Often he found himself imagining a different life, one where he wasn’t imprisoned in a dull gray cubicle.

He hadn’t shared the stress, the bills, nor the anxiousness with anyone. Why would he add to their worries? Dad was already stressed out enough over how the stock market decline was eating into his retirement. And Mom’s ongoing health challenges made sharing troubling news unwise, or at least unwelcome. About the only thing they were expecting to hear from him was that he had found “the one” and that a wedding and kids were inevitable. He avoided that question, too, staying vague about his dating so as not to encourage his mother’s hopes for an immediate end to his bachelorhood.

“Will I actually be fired? For stuff I had nothing to do with?” he wondered aloud, his voice cutting through the relative silence of the morning. The only answer was from the heating system, which kicked on at that very moment with a roar.

Maybe the meeting wasn’t about his job. Maybe it was a new assignment or something completely different. Maybe his boss was going to apologize for blaming him unfairly.

He decided to scan the local news to take his mind somewhere else. One of the city’s prominent business leaders was making headlines for some charitable work, a warm story of giving back to the community. He read about a new play debuting in town and about the hockey team’s trade of a star player. The coach was interviewed about the prospects for a big season.

The news didn’t calm him much. David exhaled, silently willing his stress to fade with his breath. He put his cup in the sink, grabbed his computer bag, and left for his walk to work. This tension was all too much, he thought, wondering how in the world life had grown so complex so quickly.

It was an unusually cold autumn day, with winds that plucked the leaves off the trees and sent them into a spinning, colorful show before pulling them high into the air and then dropping them scattershot across the lawn. Passing the corner church, the one with the stained glass windows and the heavy wooden door, he noticed a man slumped over against the opposite wall. A crude cardboard sign told a lifetime’s story in a few sentences. David actually imagined, for the briefest of moments, that he might become homeless himself. It was as if his mind raced to the most negative possibilities of getting fired and then evicted. He shook his head, hard, as if he could knock the thought right out of his head. He wasn’t even close to that situation at this point, and he could always return home. This stress was getting to him.

At the same time, something else tugged at him: The hopeful thoughts of that teenager he once was. The thoughts of moving up the corporate ladder, making good money, hosting parties, enjoying his wife and kids. How everything would work out for good—thoughts that flashed brightly and then seemed to disappear.

When had those thoughts been replaced by thoughts of survival? Of getting fired? Of the completely irrational—like such fears as being homeless?

Glancing ahead at the busy street, he decided to take the shortcut through the park. He was a creature of habit and generally oblivious. He didn’t notice the people around him. He didn’t notice much of anything. Instead, he purposely picked up speed to make it in to work and begin another day handling problems, shuffling paper, and grinding through a slog of e-mail.

Lost in thought, David almost tripped over a young woman who was frantically grabbing faded yellow papers that the wind had pulled out of her hands. Despite the fact she was not winning the war against the wind, she was laughing and obviously having a great time, as if she had planned this little game all along. David quickly began snatching the pages out of the air with such speed and ease that she stepped back and admired his skill.

“Thank you. I would never have been able to do that.”

David nodded, bowed slightly at his waist, and said, “At your service.” Handing the pages back to her, he politely smiled and kept going.

Minutes later, he was standing in front of his office building. He glanced at his watch and realized he was early. Extremely early. He decided to waste a little time, and so he passed his office building and entered the corner shop. Having had his fill of coffee, he perused the long list of teas. Finally settling on a robust black tea mixed with a fruit flavor, he angled to a far table where he resolved to calm his thoughts and settle down before work.

As the sounds of the hungry morning commuters surrounded him, he steeled himself for the day ahead. Leaving the shop, he approached the revolving door to his office building. As he pushed his way into the lobby, he felt the transformation begin. Inside the office, he felt different, as if cloaked in a costume, a minor character in a play. He nodded to a few coworkers and made his way to his desk.

A few hours later, it was time to meet with the boss. David walked slowly down the hallway, his palms sweaty, his face flushed. Trying to be confident, he managed a weak smile as he stepped to the open office door.

The meeting was over in two minutes.

He wasn’t fired, but he was given a verbal warning. There was little room left for error.

David surprised his manager by not arguing. He even surprised himself when he heard his own voice promise to turn things around. Immediately after exiting the office, he headed for the bathroom and splashed water on his face to cool down. He wondered if he had sounded as pathetic as he felt. He couldn’t lose this job, not now, not with no savings. His family, his friends, everyone thought he was hitting it out of the park.

If he were fired, it would be a shock to them. At home, he was always confident, had lettered in two sports in high school, played in college, exceptional grades, two sterling internships. He was well liked, and everyone imagined that he was on the fast track to a highly successful career.

He couldn’t fail. He would not fail.

David knew that something had to change, but he didn’t know where to begin.

That evening as he started back through the park, he heard a rustling sound. Looking up, he saw a piece of paper that had lodged neatly under a rock. Its color was the same faded yellow he remembered from that morning. He walked over and picked it up before glancing around as if the woman would still be nearby. Tucking the yellow paper in his jacket pocket, he continued walking home, thinking he might run into the young woman again the next morning. He smiled as he remembered their brief meeting, her contagious laughter, the twinkle in her eyes.

At home, he hung up his jacket and then reached into the pocket. On the folded paper was a note:

Flipping over the fold, he read:

It was signed with the name of the man who had been in the paper that morning for his charitable work.

This must have been hers, David thought, his mind conjuring up the image of her attractive face and the sound of her contagious laugh. I wonder if I could just sit in. Maybe I’ll go and say I found the paper and then see what happens. This is just what I need!

His thoughts drifted off to what he had heard about the man who was a benefactor to many: his successes, his work in the city, and his connections. He could be a way out for me, thought David. Maybe I could work for him or network into a new position. I’m definitely going to this meeting.

That night, as he stared at the ceiling over his bed, listening to the sounds of the traffic, he mulled the day’s events over and over again. He replayed the conversation with his boss. As he thought about it, he remembered sounding more confident. He wondered whether his mind was subtly changing the actual tone of the meeting to make himself feel better.

He whispered a prayer, more a plea or a wish, that this all would change. He didn’t just want to get things on track at work and pay down his bills. He wanted his confidence back. He wanted his dreams back!

“I wish I could sense when I was about to slip and make major mistakes. Or erase them completely.”

Just for effect, he fist-punched the air above him.

He smiled and finally fell into a deep sleep, the best sleep he had had in a long time.