The Autobiography of Benjamin Abbott - Chapter 6: The Assistant (Part Two)
Previous Chapter: Chapter Six (Part One)
“Where would you like me to begin, Mr. Abbott?”
“I really don’t need any help. Mr. Humphrey…”
“Dave.”
“What?”
“He wanted me to make sure you call him Dave, not Mr. Humphrey. Where should I begin?”
What was I to do, insist that I sort the mail, deliver the mail, pick up the mail, when I had such a capable man offering to help. So I sat back down at my desk, yeah, I had a desk now, too. It used to be Richard’s desk, but he had been downgraded to a small folding table and folding chair and now I had his desk.
I watched Mike and my coworkers for the rest of the day with my feet up on Richard’s, now my, desk. (As important as it is to put one’s feet on top of the desk to signify nonchalant power, it becomes unbearably uncomfortable after only 15 minutes as the flow of blood to your feet is cut off and soon they are tingling and you have to stomp them on the floor repeatedly to bring them back to life, which kind of destroys the whole nonchalant power thing that putting your feet up on the desk was supposed to give off in the first place, so when I say I watched Mike and my coworkers sort, dissect, inspect and deliver the mail all day with my feet on the desk I’m speaking metaphorically, no, figuratively, no metaphorically, whatever, just picture me sitting there relaxed watching them slave away with my feet up.)
Every day at 11:58 exactly, Humphrey’s minion would come down to escort me up to the 179th floor to have some version of fish and potatoes and every night Debi and I would continue our affair in the honeymoon suite of the Park Royale Hotel. Humphrey had put me up there for the rest of the week. I assume he put me in the honeymoon suite not because he knew about Debi and me, but because it was the best suite in the hotel, I mean, he couldn’t have known about our affair, could he? Actually, he absolutely could have known about our affair, but the thought is too horrifying to contemplate. Let’s move on.
Anyway, Debi and I would lounge around the suite (which was bigger than the glass coffee table that was bigger than the couch that was bigger than my apartment, although you probably already assumed that since it’s the honeymoon suite at the Park Royale Hotel) in plush complimentary robes eating Landmark financed room service and watching Landmark subsidized movies on the SUV-sized television that was bigger than my apartment (but smaller than the coffee table that was bigger than the couch that was bigger than my apartment). Debi’s morning sickness had passed so she wasn’t throwing up after the sex anymore, which was another plus, so we could lie in bed afterwards like 2 normal lovers talking about normal lover things.
“I think you should name him after me.” Debi had just found out it was going to be a boy.
“I don’t think Clark would like that.”
“How would he know? Benjamin’s a perfectly lovely name. There’ve been many impressive Benjamins throughout history: Ben Franklin…”
“And?”
The momentum of my thought had surprisingly slowed before it ever really started. Benjamin is a very common name so there had to be many famous Benjamins, it would only logically follow, every common name has a lot of famous historical figures attached to it, but as I laid there my head resting against Debi’s belly, I couldn’t think of a single other important Benjamin in the history of humankind besides Benjamin Franklin. Time passed. Debi seemed to enjoy my flummoxed state of mental paralysis. I’m a talker after sex, so usually I would regal her with elaborate theories or plans or ideas or just talk about random things like how she should name her kid after me, but now that I was trying to think of famous Benjamins, any famous Benjamins, a prolonged rare aftersex silence descended upon us like a warm soft down pillow smothering my thoughts. She continued to let the silence linger as I mentally searched through the past and the present trying to come up with anybody.
“I think there was a president named Benjamin once.”
“Who?”
“He was related to the one who died in office after 100 days.”
“Okay.”
“And there’s the guy on Law & Order.”
“Yes.
“The one that dated Julia Roberts.”
“I know who you’re talking about.”
“I think that might be it.”
“That’s quite a list. I’m not persuaded.”
“Come on, it’s a nice name. I have the name and I’m the most impressive one. I’m going to be famous.”
“You’re not going to be famous, Ben.”
“Humphrey wants to make me famous.”
“He wants to buy something from you. He’s a businessman. You have something he wants. He’s going to use different methods to try to get it from you. If he can get it by flattering you, he will flatter you. If he has to use other methods, he will do that. You don’t know much about business, do you, Ben?”
“I know enough,” I said defiantly and quickly changed the subject back to the important topic at hand. “I like the sound of Benjamin Jr.”
“Aaaaah!”
That shriek was me. Her stomach had punched me.
“He’s kicking. Do you want to feel?”
“Yes?” I lied. She took my hand and placed it on her stomach and I felt young Benjamin as he thrashed about inside of her. I gazed at her naked belly marveling at the miracle of life and wondering what the future would hold for the young child.
Okay, that’s not true. I wasn’t marveling at the miracle of the alien lifeform gestating inside my lover and I wasn’t thinking about the future this boy would face when he was pushed out into the world. I was thinking of my future. Not my future with Debi, my future with Humphrey. It was Thursday night. One more day and my week of freedom would be over. Our courtship was entering its final delicate stages. I would have to decide if I was going to give myself to Humphrey or not.
When this whole thing started my plan was to take advantage of his generosity for a week and then take the deal. It was the intelligent and sensible thing to do. But young Benjamin seemed to be trying to tell me something in his kicks. His vigorous knocking against a world that had encaged him communicated to me there might be a better path. Or maybe I was just overthinking things again. I hate when I do that.