Page 13 of Idle

“I know!” On the sidewalk, the smile I’ve been restraining all day emerges. It’s the one Dimitri would have preferred to have received from me, but it’s reserved for this amazing opportunity. For what feels like the first time in my life,mydream is coming true.

“Have you responded to Quinn yet?”

Even though Paige can’t see me, I shake my head. “No. I wanted to check in with you first.” I take a few steps. “You’re still in, right?”

She sighs. “You have no idea. Tell this Quinn person we accept.”

“With pleasure.”

After we hang up, I click on the email icon and type our reply. After pressing “send,” a sense of lightness overtakes over my body. This is my make or break moment. My big chance to get out of banking to do what I love.

I stop in front of the iconic St. Patrick’s Basilica. This Neo-Gothic church with twin spires always takes my breath away. I allow myself a minute to duck inside where I’m once again captivated by the soaring ceilings and gorgeous stained-glass windows. Despite it being a Tuesday, several groups of tourists—interspersed with parishioners praying—sit in the simply made pews. While I’m not a particularly religious man, ever since Diana was taken too soon, I accept the solace these hallowed walls provide.

I walk around the altar, taking in the ornate carvings and soaring pipes for the organ surrounding me. It’s in these quiet moments I sense Diana’s presence as if she were walking next to me, grabbing my hand like she used to when we were kids. This sensation calms me. I channel her upbeat positivity while pondering how to tell my parents about this opportunity.

A notification of an incoming email dings, so I slide into an empty pew and pull out my cell. It’s from Quinn. She’s excited we accepted and asks that we report next Monday to a New York City apartment—providing an address. I close my eyes. This is all happening so fast, yet I’ve waited my entire life for this moment.

After leaving a twenty in the donation box, I return to the bustling outside world where people race along the sidewalks and cars honk. I have two unsavory tasks ahead, but waiting won’t make either better. I text Homer:

Can I swing by tonight?

While awaiting his response, I walk back to the bank and stand outside Dimitri’s office. I force myself to rap on the doorframe and he waves me in. On legs as weak as a stripped screw, I enter the room and do a controlled slide into his guest chair. Managing to swallow after three attempts, I begin, “I want to reiterate how humbled I am by the bank’s confidence in me.” I rub my clammy palms on my thighs.

“We really like your work ethic, and how you get along with your colleagues. You do a great job here.”

His kind words are not making this any easier. But I have to do this.For me.“I appreciate that. However,” my hands move to rubbing together instead of on my legs. “After our meeting, I received a different opportunity that I would like to pursue. It’s a very short gig outside of the banking industry. I’d need to take a leave of absence for a maximum of six weeks starting next Monday. Once it’s over, I have every intention of returning back here.”Unless I win.“I don’t know how this affects my promotion.”

Pushing away from his desk, he wears a frown that rivals a trader’s when the market tanks. “This ‘different opportunity,’”—his fingers frame an air quote motion—“truly has nothing to do with the bank?”

My palm goes across my heart. “I swear.”

He rests his forearms on the desk and leans forward. “What will you be doing?”

Knowing he’ll find out sooner or later, I suck in oxygen and reply, “I was selected to be on a Renovation TV show.”

His face first registers shock, followed by his cheeks puffing as he tries to hold back laughter. “Is this something your girlfriend put you up to?”

Many things are wrong with his assumption. First, I don’t have a girlfriend. Second, this is my dream, no matter how crazy it might seem. Third, I practically had to beg everyone I could think of to be my partner on the show. A vision of Paige flits through my mind, with her adorable pixie hairstyle, lanky frame, and her light chocolatey brown eyes that remind me of creamy milk chocolate. Sexy tomboy.

I close my eyelids for a moment and the image disappears. “No, this was my idea.” He doesn’t need to know about my furniture business, or my decade-plus long love affair with carpentry.

He rolls a pen on his desk. “Will you be behind the camera, or in front of it?”

I cross my arms across my chest. “I’m going to participate in a competition-type show.”

His eyes narrow. “Do you have any say over your wardrobe? If so, you can wear some of the bank’s logoed shirts, use our mugs and pens.” He tosses me his pen, which I catch. “Free advertising never hurts.”

Leave it to my boss to figure out a way to benefit himself. Rather, his employer.Our employer.Who knows how this will turn out? “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’ll have to discuss this with the higher-ups, but if you’re able to worm our name onto the show, I think the bank will be more than agreeable.”

I stand, realizing this is my best chance to exit. “Thanks. We’ll keep each other posted, right?”

His response is a salute.

Returning to my cubby, I shoot off an email to Quinn asking about wardrobe issues, then set about getting my tasks in order for someone else to take over. As I’m working on a transition memo, she replies that the wardrobe and props departments have final say over everything that ends up on screen, but they would consult with me. I forward her message to Dimitri as a show of good faith. If my dream comes true, I’ll never return here working for him.

One down, one more to go. While I’m packing up for the day, Homer texts me back to meet them at their favorite Italian restaurant for dinner. Instead of returning home, I trek across town and slip into the booth. At least we’re in a public space, so they can’t make too big of a scene.

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