Revising the Plan

Revising the Plan
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Anissa Blume
“Corrections. Revisions. The requirements for worthwhile plans.”
Ben Hoffman could hear the mantra, spoken in the German accent of his father. Founder of the architectural firm, Hoffman and Associates, Dieter Hoffman had high standards and expected them to be met. A quiet ride right now would be most welcome, but Dieter would be waiting to hear how the meeting went.
Rush hour was unusually busy in the city; the traffic gridlocked in every direction. The week had been grueling; the days long and exhausting and still there was one day left before the weekend. It was nearly 5pm and Ben wished he could take off his tie, go to a bar and nurse a beer until the rush hour was over. Dieter would never converse about working hard. To him, work was about one’s best effort; there was no need for the adjective ‘hard’ to describe it. Life was about doing your work for your family and the world at large. Ben grabbed his cell phone; it was best to call Dieter and give him a report.
“Benjamin.” Dieter said, answering the phone call in his deep voice. Not “hello”, not “how are you?” There was never time for small talk with Dieter.
“Father, the meeting went fairly well.”
“Fairly well?” Dieter interrupted.
“Except for a few details, the administrators like the plans and will be ready to move forward once we’ve made the changes they want. They will give us a list tomorrow at the wrap-up meeting. I’m driving back to Boston now.” Ben maneuvered his way through the next jammed intersection, waiting for the words he knew would be spoken next.
“Well, get it done, Benjamin. Fairly well is hardly good enough. Remember; corrections, revisions. The requirements for worthwhile plans.”
Unlike others in the firm, Ben had heard the words at home too. Dieter applied the advice to elementary school projects, how staff ran the household and even to family vacations. Dieter paid attention to detail in all aspects of life, and carefully assessed his plans at work and at home to assure they were on track with his goals. Despite the strict nature of Dieter Hoffman, he was a man with integrity, who was respected as a father and husband, and also as the chief of the hugely successful architectural firm. Still, Ben thought as he sighed, like now, Dieter’s style was overbearing.
“Yes, father. I believe we will make changes acceptable to the Center once we review their requests.”
“Good work. I detect flatness in your voice.”
“Father, I’m strained; the week has been long and particularly demanding.” Ben knew he shouldn’t have said that to his father, and instantly regretted it.
There was a long pause; so long that Ben looked at his cell phone, wondering if he’d been disconnected.
“I will assume your ‘strain’ is indicative of your high caliber and diligence. Perhaps you’ve chosen an incorrect word? Cocktails and hors d'oeuvres will be served at seven-thirty; you and Carissa will be on time?”
Ben laughed to himself; laughed at his own foolishness. Trying to get his father to understand work-related pressure was impossible. That he’d have to drive from Hartford, Connecticut, to Boston, and then back again in time for tomorrow’s meeting was not something his father would see as an issue. The phone signaled another call was coming in.
“I have another call. I will be on time, Father. Carissa will meet me there.”
“Continue to make me proud, Benjamin.”
No “good-bye,” no “drive carefully.” Ben clicked over to the call he was receiving.
“I am having the worst day!” Carissa said, almost shouting. “I was leaving the hair salon and the police pulled me over. They noticed the car didn’t have an inspection sticker and they towed it!”
“What?” Ben asked, trying to figure out what had happened. He felt a punch to his abdomen. Just the possibility of some tow truck driver being rough with the new Jaguar was sickening.
“You didn’t get the inspection sticker, Carissa? You had ten days.” Ben was now backed up in traffic at a light that had already turned green twice. He’d already been on the road for a half hour and hadn’t gotten anywhere.
“Where are you; and where is the car?”
“I’m at a bakery on Summer Street. The car is at the place where the police take them,” her voice cracked as she spoke.
“’The place where police take them’? That’s great information.”
Ben could feel his neck getting hot. He loosened his tie as he finally turned onto the expressway. Traffic was still heavy, but it wasn’t stopped. The car was just two weeks old. He had let her pick it out. She’d opted for the gold, fully-loaded XFR. And now, because she hadn’t got the sticker as she’d promised, it had been towed.
“It’s really cold out, Ben,” she said, whining. “I left my warm coat in the car and my clothes for tonight in the trunk.”
Keeping his angry feelings under control, he spoke in a slow, rhythmic tone. “Just go in the bakery. I can’t get there sooner than ninety minutes. Buy a coffee and read a paper, Carissa.”
At top speed in this traffic, he’d be lucky if he’d make it to his father’s home by 7:30; now he’d have to go out of his way to another high-traffic area to get Carissa from the bakery. And the car; he didn’t know where it even was. He would call the police to find the location, then call the garage and make arrangements to have it towed to a local service station. Impoundment charges were calculated daily. It was too late to get an inspection; it would have to be done tomorrow.
It wasn’t as if there wasn’t enough to do. The race was on for the renovations to be completed on the townhouse they’d just purchased. He and Carissa would be closing on the sale of their small suburban home, and moving into the townhouse on Marlborough Street in Boston once the work was completed. The recently familiar tug began; tight and pulling, up the right side of his neck. Ben shook his head, trying to make it stop. The tension headaches lately were intense, and now they included his neck. His stomach was growling for dinner, his mind for a rest. It seemed this day would never end.
***
Carissa bought a cup of coffee and a muffin, and sat at a table beside the window. It was already dark and starting to snow. The wind blew the tiny snowflakes around, but it didn’t appear there’d be any accumulation. Across the street, a storeowner decorated for Christmas. Colored ornaments and tiny pin lights trimmed the large windowpanes. Everything would look so pretty in the days to come, Carissa imagined, remembering her childhood back in the crowded neighborhood where the immigrant Hispanic families lived.
The people back there were poor, but they were believers in Christmas. There were houses with flashing lights nailed around the windows. There were wreaths on doors. Pictures of Santa hung in windows. She smiled to herself as she remembered life back there.
She remembered the year she was in the second grade, and how she’d wished for a baby grand piano. She had asked for one in her letter to Santa Claus. Maybe she was six that year, maybe seven. She could still feel the disappointment when, on Christmas morning, she had not been given one. Instead, she got a new coat and mittens, a gumball machine and a Barbie Dream house. Her mother tried to explain that a baby grand piano was very difficult for Santa to carry, and there was no room for one in their tiny third-floor apartment. “Carissa, someday you work hard, you get a house and you get a room for a piano. You learn to play beautiful music.” Her mother had said in her strong Spanish accent.
Carissa took a sip of coffee. That had been the last family Christmas. It was just months later when her father died in a car accident on his way home from work. She remembered how her mother tried to keep up with the family finances. Two jobs, long hours; she was hardly ever home. Her older brother Fredy got into trouble and was eventually put into a juvenile detention center. If her aunt and uncle hadn’t let her stay with them and her cousin Ana, she’d have been alone most of the time. Life was hard in the neighborhood, but she was loved and was grateful for that; her only regret, really, was that her mom had never seen how things turned out. Her mother would have liked riding in the new Jaguar; she’d have been proud to have her daughter living in the Back Bay. “Rich people live there, Carissa”, her mother had once said while pointing out of the window of the transit bus.
“We close at seven.”
Carissa looked up, her contemplation interrupted by the woman behind the counter. She stood and cleaned her table, wondering how she’d keep warm until Ben arrived. The woman was sympathetic; noticing Carissa’s situation she offered her a large towel she had in the back room. “At least this adds another layer for you.”
Carissa wrapped the towel like a shawl around her shoulders; nothing in the area was open. She huddled close to the bakery’s doorway, under their awning, trying to stay sheltered as she shivered in the wind.
***
Ben continued to lose time, getting stuck in one traffic-jam after another. Crossing town now seemed impossible, and, as upset as he was with Carissa, he worried about her waiting alone. The traffic stopped again; this time he could see flashing lights in the distance; maybe an accident, maybe a breakdown. Carissa should take a taxi to his father’s home, he decided; it would be quicker. Ben called a taxi company, called Carissa, then made a U-turn and drove in the direction of his father’s neighborhood. He would pay the taxi driver once Carissa arrived.
A half-hour later, Ben finally arrived at his father’s home. A valet was standing in front of the Commonwealth Avenue residence. Ben pulled up to the curb. He tightened his tie and put his suit jacket on as he climbed the few steps to his father’s entrance. A big bushy wreath with a red velvet bow hung on the big old door and, as Ben entered, the familiar creak of the hinges sounded.
The entrance hall was decorated elegantly. Everything in its place, as always. Ben looked around, enjoying the carefully placed antiques and pieces of art. Gentle scents of bayberry brought back wonderful memories of past holidays. Across the front hallway he could see formally dressed men and women mingling, holding long-stem glasses of wine. Three men in tuxedos played soft classical Christmas music in the corner.
“Benjamin, come here.”
Across the living room Ben could see Annika waving to catch his attention. He crossed the room, stopping briefly to shake hands with different guests, until he reached where she was standing. He wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her on the cheek, admiring her perfect composure. She was attractive in her odd way. Tall, trim stature and angular features. High cheekbones, a long nose, a bony chin, but still striking. Her blonde hair was not artificial; she’d been blonde her whole life and, as usual, it was pulled back and wrapped in a tight bun. Ben liked that she was plain. Her only enhancements were light makeup and the three-carat diamond ring Dieter had given her at their engagement. She hugged him.
“It’s so good to see you, Benjamin.”
“It’s always good to see you, Annika.”
Ben hugged her, always appreciating that she’d been the buffer between him and his father, and tonight would be no exception. Though she wasn’t his biological mother, she couldn’t have been a better mother if she had been.
“You look stunning.”
Ben could see his father crossing the room to greet him. He told himself to relax as he quickly stretched his neck; a preventative measure against tension, a tension Dieter was sure to aggravate today. Sometimes Dieter’s formality was difficult to endure. Always fastidious, always on watch, nothing passed Dieter Hoffman. Smart as a man could be; clever, business-minded, and still ethical. It was those attributes that attracted the most accomplished people to him, just like all the people at this party. Ben admired him and his business sense, but when his father’s standards weren’t met… Ben exhaled; just the thought of his father always being ‘on’ was exhausting. Dieter looked him over once, apparently approving of his appearance, and then spoke.
“And where is Carissa?”
“Carissa will be delayed because of a glitch with the inspection sticker on the car. The car was towed, and now Carissa is on her way by taxi. She should be here shortly.”
Dieter raised his eyebrows and then lowered them, causing his eyes to squint. “A glitch?”
Ben felt the piercing stare of his father’s gaze. The look that replaced many words. Dieter turned to signal an older couple over.
“Harry and Mrs.Clemens; my son, Benjamin. The Clemens family has donated the funds for the proposed transplant unit at the Children’s Hospital.”
Ben shook their hands and complimented them on their generosity. They were pleasant, he thought. Good kind people, who the firm would get to know when it was time to get the Children’s Hospital project under way. Most of the guests were familiar socialites he’d met before at similar gatherings. He’d just begun to make his way around the room to say hello, when Dieter rang a small brass bell and asked for the group’s attention.
“Thank you all for coming to our home this evening. We have had a triumphant year at Hoffman and Associates, and I greatly appreciate both your business and the pleasure of working with such an esteemed group. I give thanks to my dear wife Annika, for laboring to make this evening a success, and to my son Benjamin for working attentively by my side on our projects. Before I welcome you to the dining room, where a buffet dinner is about to be served, I want to introduce the Mayor of this fine city, Mayor….” Dieter stopped speaking abruptly when the front door slammed. He looked to the hall as the rest of the crowd turned to look, and there, standing wide-eyed, was Carissa, now stopped in her tracks.
Ben’s neck tightened to a new degree at the sight of Carissa caught coming in late, dressed in tight jeans and a sweater. Her breasts pressed against the material of the flimsy sweater with such force her nipples were outlined. Being cold made things worse. Ben wondered what was around her shoulders then on closer observation realized it was a towel. He had to get her upstairs; help her find something else to wear. He stood and, in the same second, turned to Dieter to confirm the stare he was sure he was getting. The “do-something- promptly” stare. Their eyes locked as Ben received the silent demand.
“Please excuse me, everyone,” Carissa pleaded from the hall.
Ben walked quickly. Annika followed Ben, much to his relief, to help defuse this awkward situation.
“Let’s go upstairs and find you something to wear, darling,” Annika said softly.
Ben followed Carissa, who followed Annika up the winding flight of stairs. “I’m sure there’ll be something that will look terrific on you,” Annika said, small-talking as they climbed.
Ben couldn’t help but watch Carissa’s rear as each cheek strained against the material of her skin-tight jeans. Each step looked to be a struggle. He didn’t mean to be judgmental, but he was certain it would be to her advantage in the world in which she aspired to live and work, to err on a more sophisticated style. Why she clung to this ’girl-from-the-‘hood’ look, he couldn’t understand.
“Let’s take a look,” Annika said as she swung open the door to her room-size closet. “Soon, you’ll be the most beautiful woman here.”
Ben looked over to Carissa, who wouldn’t make eye contact. Annika was already in the closet, going down the rack searching for possibilities, while she talked about which color would look best on Carissa. “Don’t anyone worry, Carissa will be dinner-party ready in no time.” Ben wondered how Annika would find something that would fit Carissa, since their shapes were so different.
“Ben, I’m sorry for making a scene down there,” Carissa finally said anxiously, breaking their silence. “Everything went wrong today. I feel terrible.” Ben looked at her then turned. He couldn’t assess the situation. Too much had gone wrong, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what he was feeling; perhaps it was neglect.
“Annika, thanks for helping us.
“Go back downstairs, Benjamin. I will help Carissa and deal with Dieter.”
Ben thought of his father downstairs, certainly fuming about the three of them being upstairs looking for attire just as dinner was about to be served. Carissa was not malicious and not defiant. It was a matter of ignorance, he was sure. He couldn’t relieve himself from the image of her standing in the hall. Every guest had turned to look, jolted by the slamming door, and there Carissa stood, beautiful, but dressed like a street girl. They’d talked about her choice of clothes. She could go to the stores and buy any nice outfit she wanted, but every time she came home she’d have more skintight jeans and too-tight sweaters. He wasn’t sure if he was feeling more embarrassed or angry. Being late; that was still another issue he’d have to take up with her.
As expected, the buffet table was elegant. A long, off-white linen table cloth hung to the floor; gold, scarf-like pieces of silky material draped over the edges of the table and two large silver deer standing on hind legs doubled for candelabra, set between the serving dishes. Tall tapered candles were set in each deer’s antlers, giving a soft, lighted glow from the flickering flames. Three men dressed in formal attire were ready to serve the guests. Father does everything just right, Ben thought; he never slips up. As he made his way back to where his father stood, he smiled and shook hands with various clients. “Everything looks perfect, Father,” he said, hoping Dieter wouldn’t mention what had happened.
“Yes. Good outcomes do not happen by accident, Benjamin. Plans; good solid planning minimizes the probability that there will be an anomaly. Perhaps you should consider your plans and see if revisions are needed. If so, make the necessary corrections.”
“Father…” Ben said as Dieter turned and walked away. Just like that, Ben thought. Dieter spoke his mind and moved along. He wasn’t interested in what had happened, whether or not there was an apology due; he wasn’t interested in excuses.
By ten o’clock, most of the guests were gone, except for a few who lingered behind talking to Dieter about an upcoming golf trip to someplace warm. Ben was glad. He’d done enough polite chat, shaking of hands and talking about ventures and investments. Annika was his hero still. She had found an outfit that actually looked exquisite on Carissa; loose fitting enough to fit her, tight-fitting enough to need a festive silk scarf draped to hide Carissa’s heavy breasts.
“Stay here tonight,” Annika said. “It makes little sense for you two to go home then come back to Boston in the morning to get the car. You can get a good night’s sleep and leave early for Hartford. I’ll drive Carissa to get the car inspected.”
Rescued again, Ben thought as he let out a sigh. He could sure use a good night’s sleep, even if Dieter didn’t understand how overwhelmed he’d been feeling. “Annika, thank you so much!”
Carissa could see the relief in Ben’s expression; surely Annika’s offer to help them would make his day less complicated. She thanked Annika for offering to help, and also for inviting them to stay, then she politely excused herself from the guests who remained, and gave Ben a hug goodnight.
Annika accompanied Carissa to the guest room and pulled down the edge of the comforter. “I want you to be comfortable tonight,” she said, then opened a drawer and took out a nightgown with the tags still attached. “It’s good to have a spare nightgown in the spare bedroom,” she said smiling, before noticing Carissa wiping a stray tear from her cheek.
Carissa took the nightgown from Annika then sat on the edge of the bed. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me tonight; Ben was so upset. You really saved me.”
Annika studied Carissa for a moment, wondering. “Saved,” Annika thought. Apparently she had saved Carissa from Ben’s wrath, and then she thought about herself, wishing someone had saved her on occasion, back when she first became Dieter’s wife. Dieter had had lots of expectations, and expected them to be met. Now, like Dieter, Ben had expectations too.
“Carissa, let me explain. After Benjamin’s mother died, Dieter had to learn to care for an infant. He knew nothing about nurturing, but he worked at it. Benjamin is self-disciplined because of a lifetime of Dieter’s strict rules and expectations. Sometimes their expectations are a bit high, but it’s also why they’ve been so successful in their lives. When I met Dieter, Benjamin was just seven, and he was a delightful little fellow, but often reminded me of a miniature soldier. After Dieter and I married, I took on the nurturing role for both of them. They appreciated a woman’s touch. Benjamin is like my own child; I love him dearly and could not be more satisfied with who he’s become.” Annika spoke as she drew the blinds in the long, floor-to-ceiling windows while Carissa remained on the bed, listening carefully. “I didn’t come to this family with a stringent upbringing either, but eventually Dieter got to me. He’s a very caring and responsible man; and he’s admirable. Benjamin might be too rigid at times, but it is what he knows.”
Annika looked at Carissa sitting there; her eyes wide, her head tilted, appearing to be processing every word Annika said. “I understand. I know Dieter is rigid, and it’s what Ben has learned. Ben is actually a very gentle man.”
Perhaps she had misunderstood what she had “saved” Carissa from, Annika thought, but it didn’t matter. “Good night, Carissa.”
Ben was feeling the day catching up to him. It was hard to sit upright; his shoulders felt like cement. He glanced at his watch. It was getting late and he needed to rest. The conversation was interesting, but his eyes were fighting to stay open. When Dieter offered a nightcap to him and the two remaining guests, he declined, but offered to get the cognac and glasses from the liquor cabinet. He carefully poured a drink for each one and then said politely, “I have to excuse myself, tomorrow’s weather forecast isn’t too promising, and I must be in Hartford early.” The men acknowledged his reasoning and wished him well. Ben shook their hands and headed for the stairway.
“Sleep well, Benjamin. Corrections. Revisions. The requirements for worthwhile plans. Keep that in mind.”