A Penny For Your Thoughts

13. A Welcomed Surprise

Cheers to a new year and a new chapter.
***

I was no Bill Tyree, but I still considered myself a man of routine. I had my own set of procedures and processes. There were certain things that I enjoyed doing, and sometimes in a particular order.

My mornings were methodical. I set aside ample time for breakfast, and while the menu rotated on a frequent basis, it was often served with a side of light reading or morning news on television. There was time for grooming, showering, and changing before I took the car down California Street and went to work.

Office life felt as though it had even greater automation. Not quite assembly line automation, but similar. The nature of accounting meant we were often juggling multiple clients, but I tried to maintain a sequential order when completing my work. It allowed me to have greater clarity over each project and individual client needs, and I felt that it enhanced both the quality and efficiency of my work because I wasn't confusing details from different companies.

The only time I strayed away from repetition was after work. For the most part of my working career, this segment of my day didn't last long. I routinely worked late hours at Armstrong & Lynch and seldom had evenings to myself. That usually resulted in haphazard dinner plans and little else to speak of. When Penny moved in, however, I managed to return home at a respectable time. Her eccentric behavior kept things unpredictable, so I still managed to have equally disorganized evenings, albeit with far more fun and enthusiasm.

This would lead to bedtime, which represented another well defined activity in my day. I went to bed at ten thirty each night, so I could get a proper eight hours' worth of sleep. A consistent sleep schedule was an important part of good health, and I was insistent on going through the sleep cycle as was recommended.

Lately, however, that cycle was disrupted.

At first it was hardly discernible. It took a few nights before my ears finally adjusted to the unusual noises that came in intermittent fashion. I didn't hear it every night, but it broke my heart every time I heard it.

Penny, as I had come to known, was a magnificent woman. There were enormous hurdles placed in her path and she faced them with a smile. In front of her parents or in public, she never showed any signs of faltering. But even the strongest women break down every now and then. For Penny, she waited until the middle of the night — presumably when she thought I was fast asleep — to show her vulnerability.

I wanted to walk over and comfort her, but I knew she needed some time and space to herself. A little peace and quiet to unwind and gather her thoughts. Besides, there was nothing to be said that she hadn't heard already, either from myself or another well-wisher. The encouragements also did little to change her situation. Penny didn't need to hear me say that things would get better, or that everything was going to be okay, because she knew I couldn't keep those promises. They might have sounded great, but I didn't have a crystal ball and I couldn't predict the future.

If I could, I would have never gone to the beach with Penny on that fateful afternoon.

The rational and logical side of me understood that there was no point in thinking backwards. All the should have's and could have's of the world couldn't restore Penny's vision or save her from her inner turmoils. The dreamer side of me — instilled by none other than Penny herself — wondered how things might have turned out had we not left my parents' place. Maybe this accident was one that we could have avoided.

Perhaps this was a thought that crossed Penny's mind. Perhaps not. She already had a lot to think about and I didn't want to clutter her thoughts with hypothetical questions. It was safe to say that neither of us were in the best headspace right now. Some personal time might help drag us out of this rut.