Adjacent Space

Architects had wistfully dubbed the uncovered rooftop parking floor the “Skylot,” but there wasn’t much sky visible from the perspective of Joseph F. Kett. He was lying on his back on the hood of his Saturn - a discontinued series, for which it was increasingly difficult to acquire parts, but still, in his opinion, the smartest line ever made - staring straight up into the darkening blue hard enough to make his eyes hurt.

Since he had parked near the center of the garage, he could align the four skyscrapers that towered above the garage on four sides, and squint until space and building reversed, and the only thing that seemed to exist was the dark blue square with shafts radiating out from the angles. He might have stayed prone until midnight, but Clara Blessing’s Scion - in his opinion, a trendy pretender to the Saturn throne - ascended the ramp at thirty miles an hour, rounded the corner, and squealed into place next his own car. They were the only ones this high up, but even a non-holiday rarely saw many cars on the roof, a place most people parked only out of necessity.

Joseph didn’t open his eyes fully and cautioned himself not to flinch when he heard Clara’s car door open and slam hard. He heard quiet breathing, and counting, her method for gathering inner patience. So far, this was going well. She hadn’t hit him, and she knew him well enough to find him on July 4th with the barest of clues. In the entire Kett dating history, this was unprecedented.

The counting stopped. “Well?” Clara asked.

“It does look something like a well,” Joseph allowed. “I’ve imagined this perspective to be many things, but never considered that. Probably because I overcomplicate things. That’s why I need you to ground me.”

Clara started pacing; her voice drifted around him in adorable puffs of frustration. “Ground you? There’s no grounding you. It doesn’t matter what I do, just like it doesn’t matter what your boss says. At the end of the day, you’re going to do your own thing.”

Joseph flinched. “Sweetie, I know you’re angry, but there’s no reason for a bright young woman like you to utter vile phrases like ‘at the end of the day.’” He opened his eyes and slid off the hood. “Ugh. Just repeating it now leaves a foul taste in my mouth.”

She stopped pacing in front of him and pursed her lips, which he gleefully noticed had been painted a nonconformist violet. Of course, noticing was what got him into trouble, since earlier that week he’d unconsciously drawn up a proof for a liquor ad that channeled Clara right down to her underwear. The businesswomen who worked out with her every other day had noticed the authenticity, and while nobody mentioned it then, it was clear that news of their assignation had spread. Both had been summoned to their respective manager’s offices on July 2nd.

She extended her forefinger and tapped her nail on his proboscis. “I’ve been leaving messages on your phone since Wednesday night, trying to reach you so we can strategize, or at least compare notes on the meetings. I even sent Lynn down to R&D to gather some info, but all your buddy Hal would tell her was that you called in sick and planned to overdose on sky.”

“Hal’s dependable that way. I specifically asked him to stonewall any spies - I just didn’t realize that he would be so good at it that he would defeat one of yours.”

Clara’s finger trailed down his beard. “Don’t you want to know what my boss said to me?”

“Not particularly.”

She selected a tuft and pulled, not hard enough to pluck it, but enough to draw a small, involuntary ouch from his lips. “She said: ‘Way to go, Clara! He’s a seriously fun guy.”

“Seriously fun - It sounds like an oxymoron, but it really isn’t. You and I are deadly serious about our fun.”

She heaved an exasperated sigh and buried her head into his shoulder. He took the opportunity to cautiously put his arms around her. “There, there. Would it have made you feel better if she had yelled at you? Docked your pay, fired you, or make us both sign reams of paper and start a relationship file?”

“This isn’t the way normal companies behave, Joseph.”

“It’s what makes us an ideal workplace, Clara. Did you know that the CEO turned down an offer to become Treasury Secretary because the president called during his little girl’s birthday party?”

They stood in a silent embrace off the Saturn’s front bumper, their foreheads touching.

“So what did your boss say to you?” she asked.

Joseph gasped and peered at his watch. “Oh my, it’s going to happen any minute. Quick, lie down on the hood.” He was so insistent that she shimmied into place beside him, although it wasn’t until he helped her rest her head on his shoulder that she got the traction to stay put. “He said - well, he suggested that this was great place to bring a date.”

The fireworks started. After a few crackles and pops, it became clear to them both that the colors would do little more than create a weak halo on the south side of their window to the heavens. Then there was a concussive boom of the type that makes children plug their ears. It didn’t hurt, enclosed as they were between towers. But it did reverberate through their connected bodies, and they finally understood how they would be together.