As he drank the last drops from his beverage, David wandered outside and sat down at one of the small tables in front of the Starbucks. What was he doing with his life? Why didn't he have any friends? Why had he been stuck in the same dead-end job for the past fifteen years? And why was he married to a woman who drifted further and further away from him every day? The truth is, David had given up a long time ago. Now, he was stuck in a rut, and it just seemed as if he was waiting for something to happen. But what?
David picked at a dried coffee stain on the table absentmindedly, lost in thought. When he had been in high school, he'd wanted to become an astronaut. His room had been filled with models of the solar system and posters about the moon. In his spare time, David would go to the library and read for hours about Apollo 11. Neil Armstrong was his hero, and David's ultimate dream was to be the first person on Mars.
One day, the school's guidance counselor had arrived is his classroom and asked everyone what they wanted to do after they graduated. After a few halfhearted answers of "doctor" and "video game designer", she turned to David and asked, "How about you? What do you want to do?" David had looked up at her proudly and said, "I want to be an astronaut."
The classroom had erupted into laughter. "You can't be fat for that, you idiot," said a girl behind him, poking him in the back. "Yeah, and they don't let you in if you're a retard, either," called someone else. David had looked around the room for a friendly face, but everyone he'd seen was mocking him mercilessly. Even the guidance counselor had been giggling at the thought of this squat, round boy in a spacesuit. David's round face had crumpled, and he'd run from the class before anyone could see the tears running down his cheeks.
Now, thirty-five years later, he worked in customer service for Computech, listening to angry complaints from 9 to 5. But he didn't regret it. It was how he'd met Katherine.
It had started as a normal day at work. The phone had rung, an irritating high-pitched beeping that David had always hated. He sometimes suspected that it was designed specifically so that employees would answer them as fast as possible. And it worked. He'd picked up the phone, and said, "Welcome to Computech, my name is David, how could I help you?" in a tired voice that suggested he would rather be doing anything but. He was wondering how long it would be until his coffee break when she spoke. "Yes, I recently bought a laptop from your company? It isn't turning on, and I can't seem to find the problem."
"What's the series number?" he asked.
"Um, let me check, it's...19845,"
David sighed. He had been getting calls like this all day, thanks to a production defect that prevented the laptop's battery from charging properly. His supervisor had instructed everyone to feign ignorance and blame the problem on the customer. After all, it was common for someone to bump their laptop accidentally and then deny it was their fault. But for some reason, David didn't want to lie to this woman.
He checked to make sure there wasn't anyone looking at him (no one was, as usual), then lowered his voice and said, "Look, ma'am, I'm not supposed to tell you this, but there was a production error with that series, and many have defective batteries. You could probably get a refund if you call Customer Service and ask for Mike Bailey, but you'll have to be very insistent."
The woman laughed. It was a beautiful sound. "Well, I won't have any trouble with that! But..why are you telling me this?"
Her question made David pause. Why was he doing this? Maybe he was tired of lying. Maybe he was tired of his job. Maybe he simply felt spontaneous. After a moment of reflection, he decided it was all three, and something more. "Because you just sounded like a nice person," he said quietly.
"Well, thanks, anyways," she said. "Hey, do you work in the Computech building on 5th by any chance?"
"Yes..."
"Well, Mr. David, seems as if we're office neighbors. I'm on my lunch break right now. Want to grab a sandwich at the deli down the street?"
He blinked. "Sure. How's eleven thirty sound?"
"Perfect. Oh, and by the way?"
"Yes?"
"I'm Katherine."
