“The cost and negative effects of worker burnout are higher to employers than paid vacations. Our European counterparts have proven that a better-rested workforce results in higher productivity. And the health benefits and savings are not even worked into that equation—”
“That’s my idea! He listened! He listened!”
“Shhh!”
“And so the committee will investigate implementing a law that mandates minimum paid vacation times for the U.S. worker. . . .”
We listen to the rest, stunned and silent. Because of Aidan, the president is asking a congressional committee to look into a mandatory vacation law. A chance meeting. An absurd thought from a kindergarten flunkie. And now this.
When the president signs off, Seth and Mira hoot and shout and hug Aidan. He hugs them back, smiling like he might never be able to stop. And then he looks at me.
“Congratulations, Aidan,” I say.
His mouth is open, but no words come out.
“You don’t have to say anything, Aidan. I know. Some things can’t be explained.”
We exit the store, leaving behind the smiling salesman, who doesn’t seem to mind our brief, sale-less intrusion. He nods to me as I exit, and I offer an awkward nod in return, noting his thin dated tie that looks older than most of Langdon. Mira and Aidan walk ahead. She is still bubbling over with the news and rehashing every word. I can see the back of Aidan’s head nodding, his arms flailing, filling in every gap.
“That sure is something, isn’t it?” Seth says to me.
“I think the Universe of Truly Large Numbers just had to expand to accommodate that one.”
“Nice that you didn’t say anything.”
“I didn’t need to. Aidan said it for me. He had it written all over his face.”
At the end of the street we spot a dog park. “Should we?” Seth asks.
“Why not?” I answer. “Lucky deserves a little play time.” And I still need a little more time to face what is to come.
We let ourselves in through the gate, find an empty bench to sit on, and Seth unleashes Lucky. He is the hit of the dog park. He is instantly surrounded by three dogs wanting to herd him. He appears to enjoy the attention. He runs, carefree, his feet kicking, jumping, turning midair, driving the dogs trying to follow him into fits. He finally stops on a knoll in the middle of the park to munch on a thick tuft of grass, surrounded by befuddled, panting dogs. They don’t know why they are compelled to chase Lucky. An ancient primal urge overpowers their domestic-flavor-of-the-month breeding.
“Lucky must be used to dogs.”
“Maybe dogs herded the flock he came from.”
“They didn’t do a very good job, did they?”
“Or maybe Lucky just outsmarted them.”
“Yeah, I bet that’s it,” Seth says proudly, like he raised Lucky himself.
Mira crosses her arms. “Instead of running Lucky ragged, he’s running those pooches ragged. Looks like everyone’s getting justice today.”
Seth looks at his watch. “Not everyone. It’s getting late. We better get going. Des still needs to set a few things straight.”
I exhale. And the old Destiny is back.
29
AIDAN AND MIRA WAIT in the park with Lucky while Seth and I go to retrieve the car. I find myself counting the lines in the sidewalk as we walk. Counting my breaths. Counting the clicks of our steps. Searching for yet another thing to count, something I should count, and losing track of them all, wondering if I have finally, truly lost my mind. Or maybe the opposite—maybe today all the days, tears, waiting, and numbers are adding up to something just right. Something fair. It could be. If I am careful. If I don’t stray too far this way or that. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen . . .
“Nervous?”
I catch my breath. “No. Of course not. What’s there to be nervous about?”
“Hey.” Seth stops and squeezes my arm. “It’s a good decision, Des. You wanted a fair day. This will be part of it.”