“Are we really going to be able to get there, eat, and get back all within an hour, Asher
?”
I paused and thought about this. My initial plan had just been to get out of the office, have a peaceful walk, relax in the Japanese Zen garden a couple of blocks away, and then grab some takeout that I could snack on during the afternoon. But having Lilah with me changed my train of thought in an instant. Getting all of that done wouldn't be possible in just an hour. Still, I was already feeling recharged and somehow I thought perhaps it was the idea of merely being in her presence.
“You know what, Lilah? We're not going to be able to do that in an hour.” My philosophy was that one hour of inspired, energized work was worth far more than three hours of moping, uninspired drudgery in which one was just waiting for workday to end.
She suddenly looked disappointed. “Yeah, I didn't think so. It's all right, we can head around the corner and grab a bite at that little cafe. The bagels are great there and—”
“Well, hold on a sec now, you didn't let me finish. Don't you find that you work more productively and more efficiently when you're feeling well-fed, relaxed, energized, and inspired?”
“Of course. I can get way more done and do a much better job in general when I'm feeling that way.”
“Well, then, as your boss—and as my own boss—I'm recommending that we take a two-hour lunch break.”
“Asher!” she exclaimed. “Come on, we can't bend the rules like that.”
“Listen, it makes more sense when you really think about it. It's been a long, hard week, right? We've both been slogging away relentlessly, haven't we? Spending way too many hours in the office.”
“I am feeling a little burned out, to be honest.”
“As am I. So, if we go about lunch in a rush, we're not really giving ourselves the opportunity to recharge properly, are we?” I inquired using my best defense lawyer voice.
“I guess not.”
“If we rush lunch instead of relaxing, we’re going to be thinking of the time ticking away and then have to hurry back into the office feeling frazzled and burned out. And then, we're going to be fighting off sleep while we try to get work done and our minds will be all over the place. The amount and quality of work we get done in the three hours until it’s time to go home will be poor and not so productive at best.”
She looked at me and grinned, almost conspiratorially. “I see what you're getting at.”
“Right?” I said encouragingly.
“So, what you’re saying is, if we take two hours instead, and we relax, eat a good meal, calm our minds, and enjoy our time out of the office without constantly checking our watches, we'll go back into work feeling refreshed and recharged, and get four hours' worth of work done in two hours, as opposed to one-hours’ worth of work in three?”
“Precisely. See? It makes perfect sense,” I assured her.
“Well, I won't tell the boss if you don't,” she declared as she winked at me playfully.
“My lips are sealed. The boss will never know. Oh wait, he already does,” I replied, winking back.
A thrill rushed through my veins when she laughed. I liked the feeling it gave me—making her smile, making her laugh. It had seemed like she’d been deliberately distant and cool the last few days. Whether that had been as a result of our drunken kiss that night, or simply because she was so focused on work, I couldn't tell, but it had been quietly tormenting me the whole time.
The truth was, since that kiss, I'd found it hard to get her off my mind. And, her aloofness over the past few days had made me think about her even more.
Nonetheless, I decided to play it cool and keep a bit of distance of my own. As much as she’d been on my mind, I wasn't sure if trying to get closer to her was the best course of action at that point. But those were thoughts I had when she wasn’t in close proximity. The moment she was close enough to touch, all logical thinking went out the window.
And so, for the next two hours, I just let things flow naturally. I felt so at ease in her presence, so calm and happy with her, that I simply wanted to enjoy the moment without analyzing or over-thinking our interactions.
“Come on,” I said. “Let's go to Chinatown.”
***
“It is remarkably peaceful here,” Lilah remarked as we strolled through the Zen garden.
We paused to watch an old, Japanese man painstakingly raking sand into a number of intricate patterns. Then we strolled across an ornate wooden bridge that crossed over a koi pond.
“The patterns in the sand will be destroyed in a few hours,” I said. “All of those hours of intense concentration and work will be erased.”
She looked surprised. “That's . . . kind of tragic,” she remarked. “It will all be lost?”