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Yeah. Today.
Lunch couldn't come too soon to interrupt a horribly inefficient, unproductive morning. The +mates kept to their parts of the project after I explained what had happened the night before, respecting the fact that I'd be pretty much useless for a while.
So I snuck away a few minutes early to find a nice quiet corner in the cafeteria. But about halfway into the turkey and cheese on rye, my boss sat down across from me.
"I see we've got deli meats in again."
"Small blessings." Worked up a small smile, gotta show some interest in the boss and all.
"Hm." Momentary silence. "So what's eating my master marketer, then? You feeling alright?"
Shook my head. "Nope. No sleep last night. My neighbor...."
"Some frisky young'uns making you jealous, hm? Heh! You should move out anyway, you'll be able to afford much better if your work keeps grabbing this level of attention."
"Not that. Heart-rending wails of desperation, more like."
"Difference being...?"
Cut my eyes at him, sharp as razors. In retrospect, not a good idea towards the guy who's your lifeline. To his credit, he immediately looked apologetic.
"You're serious, then. What happened?"
Filled him in. The whole story, from why John and Linda were out of town, all the way up to last night. At the end he sat there for a bit. Finally,
"His name's John Burgess, you say? A good friend, then?"
"Closest thing to friends I've had here for a while."
Another pause. Then, slapping the table, he stood. "Come by my office after work. We can't afford to have you out-of-sorts, now can we?" A smile, a pat on the shoulder, a genuine impression of concern.
Of course, after that, I was even more useless. On top of being an emotionally-troubled zombie, I now had to deal with puzzlement over what Mr. Welsh wanted with me.
Beat my head against the keyboard periodically. This was in hopes of accomplishing at least one of two things: rendering myself unconscious, or randomly piecing together some decent copy and thus salvage a rotting, moldering waste of a day.
Finally gave up on the day and made my way to Mr. Welsh's office. Got a "Come in!" almost before I knocked.
"One Mr. Johnathan T. Burgess is currently having his background thoroughly examined. Provided all is clean and clear, he will be given late re-registration privileges and allowed to return home by next week."
Still standing in the doorway. Bit confused. "Wait, so...he wasn't going to be deported?"
"Oh yes, he was very much on his way out of the country. I'm not sure where, so I can't say he's NECESSARILY better off, but thanks to you he'll be able to remain here with his wife."
Collapsed into the chair he gestured to in front of his desk. Cushy leather deal, dark brown. Very upper-executive. "Oh thank--wait. Thanks to who?"
"You, of course."
"Me? What I do?"
"You told me about him. But to be more precise, you've proven your worth." He leaned forward, hands in front, fingers interlocked and pointing in my direction. "The way things are right now, we have to help those whose help we need in return."
I can only imagine the face I made. Take utter confusion, blend with a suffocating need for sleep, top with the light sweetness of good news. The message got across though.
"Heheh, don't worry about it right now, son. You keep doing good work here and come to me whenever you have any problems, alright?" Fatherly smile.
Felt like I was supposed to nod there, so I did.
"I'd give you tomorrow off, but like I said, we need your help. The curfew isn't going to sell itself. Go home and get some rest, alright?"
Nodded again.
"...Mr. Wall...?"
Nod.
"...you can go home now."
Nod.
Mr. Welsh inclined his head toward his door.
Oh right. Got up and shambled out. Then remembered something and stuck my head back in.
"Don't...don't tell them about this, alright? I don't want...it just...I..."
A smile. "Not a problem."
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