The Good Life

You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself any direction you choose.
— Dr. Seuss

The crescent moon drags a fingernail down the back of the sky and dies. I lift my glass and toast its demise.

It was a good day—made a tidy sum on the Market, but a bad day too—Sylvia was disinterested.

I’m forty and she’s twenty-two—I know, an insane desire, but what matters when you’ve got everything else?

“Why so melancholic, Gray?”

Tom Barron has followed me out to the terrace and now sits on the wicker chair facing mine. I wince inwardly, not wanting to answer, but something has been demanded, so I feign an off-hand reply.

“I hate nights—the Market’s closed and I get bored.”

“It must be hard—being on 24/7. Don’t you take holidays?”

“Not bloody likely,” I snort. “Hate holidays—they interrupt my life.”

He shakes his head sadly. “You’re a driven man, Gray. What more do you have to prove? Hell, you could retire and live out your dream on a Caribbean isle—you could buy one for that matter.”

“What would be the point in that?”

“An end to striving,” he shrugs. “You get to keep all the toys and go home.”

“You think I’m afraid of risk? I’m not.”

I point to a small red orb in the sky. “See that red dot up there? It’s Mars, named after the god of war. That’s me—a warrior—a man of blood. I love a challenge.”

He looks at me amused. “Ah yes, the struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. But why keep rolling that rock endlessly up a hill? Give it a rest, Gray. You’ve proven yourself. What else is left?”

Sylvia’s face appears in my mind—floats up like a balloon adrift in the desolate night.

“I still have things I need to do.”

He smiles cynically and stares off into the twilight gloom. “Well, good luck with that. Hell, even Victor’s calling it quits—the man who has everything.”

The mention of Victor Goldman’s name pains me—The Most Interesting Man in the World—that’s what the females in the firm call him. Victor Goldman—partner in Sachs and Goldman Investments—renowned man about town. And even at seventy, still embodies everything I ever want to be—handsome, charming, urbane and fabulously successful.

It makes me sad to think he’s leaving, but I realize it’s because I never had a real mentor of my own—someone to teach me how to appreciate the finer things of life.

Well now, he’s retiring and that opportunity is slipping away like so many other things in my life—like time—like my dreams—hell, like Sylvia herself.

There’s a window of opportunity in business and life—catch the wave, and you can ride it until it dies, but miss it, and you end up like the rest of the schleps—in middle class mediocrity.

I don’t want a patch of crab grass in the suburbs and a tired house frau with varicose veins and babies in tow. No, I’m a winner, and I want it all—and that includes Sylvia...

And damn the odds, I'm going to get her.

To be continued…

Photo