A Room With A View

Chapter Seven - David

September 4th, Monday

David Finlay woke to the smell of burnt coffee and curdled milk. His daughter, Alice, was visiting.

     David had refused to buy one of those newfangled Keurig machines, and by the smell coming from the kitchen, he should have bit the bullet and purchased the latest model.

     "David," his wife said, giving him a light shove from the other side of the bed.

     David grumbled.

     "David, get up. Your daughter's awake."

     David could feel the mattress shift as Tanya stood. He waited for the swish of her dressing gown, and the sound of those awful tacky slippers stick-stick-sticking down the hallway. There were muffled voices as the two women in his life said good morning.

     David shifted onto his back. The alarm clock they had each gotten for Christmas showed the time in red blinking numbers on the eggshell white ceiling. There were two minutes until David's alarm would chime, reminding him that it was Monday morning, and duty called.

     He tucked the floral duvet under his chin. If he stared hard enough at the time, he could make it blur together, as if he was mentally forcing time to slow down. But when he refocused his eyes, he could see that the time was moving ever faster.

     Soft bell tones chimed from the little speaker on the top of the clock. David flicked the switch, and got out of bed. He scrubbed his face in the en suite and pulled a blue tailored suit from the closet, laying it out on the bed. David smiled. He could still see Alice at six rushing into the bedroom, riffling through the ties in his drawer, and pulling out the one that had the brightest colors. He always wore it with pride.

     But Alice at twenty-six had stopped suggesting the morning's tie many years ago, and David had had to choose for himself. He didn't know if his ties had always been bland and blending, or if they had simply lost their luster.

     David tightened the beige tie around his collar and shrugged on his suit jacket. He flicked a stray down feather from his shoulder, and strode out into the hall.

     "Good morning," he said, his voice gruff. Tanya had once told him that his voice sounded like the grind of stones turning to sand.

     "Morning, Dad." Alice kissed him on the cheek. She was wearing a sundress that barely touched her thighs, and a jean jacket that couldn't button over her chest. "Coffee?" She offered him a cup. David's nose wrinkled at the smell.

     "No thank you. I'll get some at work." He could see Tanya giving him a disproving look out of the corner of his eye. David sighed. He made a show of looking at the clock on the microwave display.

     "Actually," he said, "I think I have time for a cup."

     Alice beamed. She poured black coffee into David's usual mug, slopping some over the sides. David bared his teeth in an imitation of a smile, and took a sip, the "World's Greatest Dad" text facing out.

     The coffee burned his throat. David bit back a cough. The taste made him pucker and he looked around for a muffin or croissant to quickly bite.

     "It's Kenyan. You make it in this little carafe thing." Alice pointed to the stove. An hourglass dish sat atop one of the burners, bubbling like a witch's evil potion.

     "Lovely," David coughed. He set the mug on the counter. "I do have to get going. But we have dinner set for tonight, yes?"

     Alice nodded. She looked around their spacious kitchen, fingering a stray thread on her jacket. David followed her gaze, straying to the white marble island, the stainless refrigerator, the glossy red toaster. Nothing seemed amiss.

     "What is it?" he asked.

     "Well, Dad," Alice began, "I was thinking it might be kind of nice to invite Phineas along. To dinner."

     David bristled. "Watley?"

     Alice nodded again, still not meeting his eyes. David cut a look toward Tanya. She raised her eyebrows at him, waiting for his response.

     David was secretly thrilled. Phineas was a red-headed freckled speck of a kid, but he lived in the Watley. If he and Alice were to become an item, then Alice would visit more, maybe even move in. Alice and Phineas had grown up in the building together, but Alice had always seemed to chase after leather-wearing motorbike-riding ne'er-do-wells. David and Tanya never thought Alice would give Phineas the time of day. But, and this was the truly sobering thought, if Alice moved back to New York, it would mean she was about to get married.

     The thought of Alice getting married was more of a jolt to David's system than any cup of coffee.

     "Alright, fine. I'll call and change the reservation from three to four," David said finally. Alice smiled up at him, and it was the same, wide-mouthed smile she had given him when she was two.

     "Thank you," she said softly. She gave David a quick hug. David glanced furtively at Tanya over Alice's shoulder. She was looking at him approvingly.

     "I'll see you tonight," he said to the both of them. He placed his mug in the sink, picked up his suitcase, and slipped through the front door.

     David still felt the need to check his hair in the elevator's mirror. He had grown up with thick, dusty blonde hair, and now all he had was dust. Every now and then he would catch himself about to run his fingers through his hair, and then remember all over again that it was gone. He had aged too quickly. When he had hit forty, his back had curled into a hunch, his cheeks had drooped, and his hair had thinned to nothing. He used to wonder if there was a separate David on a parallel universe living a life much richer than this, but then he would look at Alice and think that maybe this version was the rich one. But Alice had gone away to college, and then she'd gradually stopped visiting, and so David had been left trying to catch dreams like mist and wondering if he was the reason why she was gone.

     The elevator doors opened onto the Watley's lobby. It had reflective gold-paneled walls and rich mahogany floors. The space itself seemed far too opulent to David. He felt rather awkward striding toward the double glass front doors and watching the doorman rush over to open one. David automatically grumbled, "I can open it myself, thank you very much," but paused. Simon was holding open the door today. He usually worked he night shift, so it was odd that he was working this morning. David bit his lip.

     "I, uh, thank you," David said gruffly. Simon looked taken aback.

     "You're so welcome, sir!" Simon said brightly. He bowed.

     David felt very ruffled. He snapped his heels together and turned toward the subway.

     "Good morning, David." Joshua Margova fell into step beside him. Joshua had recently transferred into David's department at the hedge fund.

     David said nothing.

     "I hear Alice is visiting," Joshua said.

     Of course he had. Alice hadn't visited for over a year. She was off working in a veterinary clinic in southern California. The moment she stepped into the Watley's foyer was news enough to spread like wildfire throughout the building.

     "That must be nice," Joshua continued.

     David sighed. He swiped his metrocard through the subway's turnstile and stepped through. Once on the other side, he finally turned to look Joshua full in the face. With a weary voice, he said, "Let's just discuss work affairs, Joshua," and boarded the subway.