Digging In: A Novel(13)
“I don’t want to drive.”
Trey would be a senior next year, and still he hadn’t signed up for a driver’s ed class. The school wouldn’t let him graduate without it. It was a sore subject between us. He claimed his refusal was political (They can’t force us to consume oil!), but of course there was more to it, a fear he attempted to hide underneath his anger. The image of Jesse’s Volvo, battered and broken, never really left our minds—it sat there like a nightmare that didn’t fade once morning came.
“Colin said this was the time for me to really think about who I want to be, creatively. Soon, I’ll be so wrapped up in trying to decide which college to attend and what I’m going to do with my life, and there will be no time left for myself, for just being me in the moment. Colin said I need to figure out who I am with minimal interference.”
“Apparently Colin talks a lot. But I think I understand.”
“Do you? Like I said, it’s nothing personal. Colin’s going to set up a gallery wall at his place. We’ve got some friends coming over to help.”
Trey’s desire to take pictures for a living was one of the many things Jesse and I had been in perfect agreement about—we both felt it was a bad idea. As the son and daughter of working-class people, we had trouble with our child pursuing a creative degree. Not because we were dismissive of art, but because we were distrustful of debt. We knew the true price of owing money, whether it was to the guy on the corner or Uncle Sam. Jesse had been quieter about his disapproval, assuming Trey would come to his senses, but I’d made the mistake of telling him photography would be a really nice hobby.
“So, basically you’re saying only rich people’s kids should get degrees in creative fields,” he’d huffed in response. “That’s so elitist. And you’re a hypocrite. You use your creativity to make a living.”
“I minored in business. My job relies more on those skills than anything. Maybe if you minored in photography and chose a major like accounting? Or, international business?”
“Could you see me in a suit?” he’d countered. “Like, sitting at the head of a table in some boardroom?”
Yes, I’d thought. I could. But then I could also see him living like the many photographers I knew through my job, scrambling for the next gig photographing a car dealership, or busy placating bridezillas at weekend weddings. It was a lifestyle that ended up producing more anxiety than artistic satisfaction.
When Jesse and I talked about it, late at night, I’d conceded that Trey had made some good points, but we needed to stick to our guns if we were going to put ourselves in financial peril to send him to the university of his choice. Stability was the name of the game. It was the thing that gave happiness a pedestal to stand on. Jesse agreed. Trey would come to understand this, he’d said.
But now, watching Trey twitch with the need to leave, I realized that maybe I should have been encouraging and optimistic, even if I had to fake it. “Well,” I began after quickly gathering my thoughts and strategizing, “if you think you can do some self-reflecting at Colin’s, then I’m not going to stand in your way.”
“You’re not?” He was always skeptical of me, always questioning my sincerity.
“Nope. I’ll even drive you. Just give me a minute to change clothes.”
“Colin’s already on his way,” Trey said, smiling as he got to his feet. “I’ll text you later, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, comforted only that he still needed my consent, even if it was perfunctory.
Later, when I was alone, I sat staring into the patch of dirt in my backyard. After a while, I grabbed the garden spade and did the only thing that made me feel better. I dug.
CHAPTER 6
Excerpt from Petra Polly: Chapter 2—On Collaboration
Not only is there not an I in ‘teamwork,’ there isn’t a U either.
Expect all of your employees—including yourself—to work together. Seem obvious? Well, consider the following questions. How often do you allow office doors to remain shut? Cancel group meetings because of perceived busyness? Allow conversations to be held entirely electronically?
The company is a singular, multicelled organism that must work in complete harmony to bring life to your organization. When one cell goes rogue or isolates or mutates, the organization becomes ill, sometimes perilously so. The prescription is simple. Breathe the same air, ponder the same ideas, eat together whenever possible, and encourage real-time, in-person conversations. There is a T in ‘teamwork,’ and it stands for ‘togetherness.’
“If we start going to the bathroom together, that’s where I draw the line.” Jackie spoke into my ear so the others wouldn’t hear her mutinous comment. The employees of Guh sat on the postage-stamp-sized patch of lawn behind Gossamer Space, discussing Petra’s latest words of wisdom. The farmers’ market had returned, so outdoor real estate was at a premium, but the weather was near perfect, and all of us wanted to get outside. Lukas demanded we all eat lunch together for the foreseeable future; however, he was conspicuously absent, spending his lunch hour at the municipal building, officially putting the name Giacomo Advertising and Design to rest and replacing it with the single-letter designation. I would have paid a fortune to see the look on our village clerk’s face. Mrs. Cruikshank was ninety and had known Big Frank since he was born.