Ad people. A team in London, and a team in France. The London team has to go to France to collaborate. When they get there, a man and a woman hit it off. The man is English, the woman is French. No, she’s on the French team, but she’s not French. Indeed, they’re probably both American. They are, at least, of the same nationality. There is no exotic otherness to each other.
There’s a lot of work, it goes late. This is the old-school advertising all nighter, where there is still a paste up room where people can smoke. Storyboards are still being put on easels. There are six or seven people on the joint international team.
It’s an intense non-romantic, platonic work collaboration, between the man and the woman. The woman leads the French team, the man is simply a team member. The illustrator, perhaps. Something craftsmanlike, and grounded. Not an art director, not a manager.
The later it goes, wine and cigarettes come out. It is, after all, France. It’s probably the 90's. For a brief moment as things wind up, the whole thing descends slightly into a parody of a French version of Friends. Spirits are high.
After work, it’s nearing dawn. The job is done, and there is a sense of accomplishment and excitement. Also, unusually, there is not an imminent need to rush off to the pitch or the meeting. They’ve solved the problem, cracked the code, and their work is done. The team disbands, leaving the man and the woman, who are wrapping up, and heads out together.
They decide to take a walk, as they are nominally headed in the same direction. They walk and they talk. They knew each other by reputation and had met once before prior to this night, but were not friends. Yet as they walk, they realize that they have so much intimacy to share. Not romantic. Just… they each were, for the other, one of those people with whom you can share any feeling, be honest, talk about things you’re never comfortable talking about with the people with whom you are closer in life. They share deep dark secrets — not that either is anything more than a normal, fearful, complex human being. There are no murders or scandals, and only mundane betrayals in their past. They talk easily but intensely, aware it’s rare and magical, but not inferring anything more from it. Could someone actually marry someone like this? The magic go away, of course it would go away. Such honesty cannot withstand real life. They do not even consider such possibilities. They are too wrapped up in the moment, in the honesty they are exhilarated by sharing, and the agreement they feel.
They walk and talk into the early morning. The woman grows drowsy. They find a small cafe in the lobby of the office park within which they work. They have ended up making a large circuit, and are again standing back by the office. They have perhaps an hour until they need to be back at work. The woman falls asleep in her chair. The man covers her up with her coat and stands up, walks around. Smokes a cigarette. Taps on his phone.
Anon an agitated man comes rushing up to them. He wears a grey raincoat. It is the woman’s husband. He’s been looking for her all night. Did she not tell him she was working late? Is he possessive? It is unclear, but he is angry. The ad man explains they were working all night, points to the man’s wife sitting some yards away and says “There she is. She’s tired, but she’s fine. She will be happy to see you.” But the husband is having none of it. He rants and yells, threatens violence, finally attempts to physically intimidate the ad man by pushing him. The ad man is having none of it, and is well-versed in physical altercations. He rapidly and easily subdues the husband. He drags him over, sits him down next to his wife, and shakes him. He looks him in the eye and says “Your wife is a good woman, and nothing happened. Pull yourself together or your jealousy will consume you and you will lose her.”
As he finishes saying this, the wife wakes up. She groggily comes to and sees her husband. She smiles at him. He sees in her eyes that what the ad man says is true. He is ashamed, chagrinned. His wife beams at him and introduces him to the ad man. Says they had a long night of working and talking but that the work is done, and they feel good about it. That they must have the ad man over for tea one day before he heads back over the channel. The husband, embarrassed by his misinterpretation, but still somewhat sullen over the obvious intimacy between the two, endeavors to assent enthusiastically.
“Yes, yes you must come,” he says to the ad man.
The ad man is still somewhat flush from the rare exertion of physical force. He, too, is confused. Not because there was any temptation for physical intimacy with the woman. Indeed, if there were a temptation, and it was overcome, he would feel that his position was somewhat strengthened for having resisted some temptation. But he cannot claim in the moral court of his consciousness that he actually fought off any evil. Does that make this more or less innocent? He is unsure. He’s unsure if the extreme emotional connection he just experienced is acceptable or not, at a deeper, truer level. For he knows that every human, and every couple, have different ways of interpreting and incorporating these more ineffable connections. Some can handle it, some can not.
But he’s damn well not going to back down now. He catches the husband’s gaze and looks right into his eyes and says firmly “Yes, yes I shall come visit for tea. I would like that.” For all of the complexity of the ties between these three, he has made his decision. This relationship will be normalized. It will be returned to the plane of every day existence. It is the right thing to do, at this moment, even if the connection is never again experienced.
The husband catches his meaning. He nods, barely perceptible to the ad man, and passing unnoticed by his wife.
The ad man makes his leave.
