Closing Time

Closing Time

Yeah I missed you since the place got wrecked

By the winds of change and the weeds of sex

looks like freedom but it feels like death

it's something in between, I guess

it's CLOSING TIME

© 1992 Leonard Cohen

The full moon couldn't brighten my mood as I stood a few feet from the doorway, the almost barren parking lot to my rear. Caroline had a death grip on my arm as Kevin stood, more like hid behind me. The music from the club had stopped a few minutes earlier, and the stragglers started to file out. It wouldn't take long. It was closing time.

Expensive clothing retains its sharp look even after hours of dancing, drinking, and general revelry. Even at two in the morning the Gucci suits, the Prada gowns still shouted the wealth of the people they clothed. It was late, but I had to be there. My sweater was creased, my no-name running shoes were scuffed. I looked down at Caroline and squeezed her hand. I heard Kevin sniffle.

I turned to him. "That's how I feel."

Everyone coming out of the bar was paired up with someone, holding hands or some other body part. One woman in a tight blue dress had two people with her. A tall, overweight silver-haired man in a dark suit kept his hand around her waist. An equally tall younger man in a blazer had his arm draped over her shoulder, his fingertips almost resting on the breast exposed by the V cut into the front. She was laughing at some joke, not noticing the people standing in front of her.

"Mom!"

They kept walking. Caroline released my arm to stand right in front of the woman.

"Mom!"

The woman stopped, an ashen pallor quickly painting her face. "Ca- uh, Caroline... What are you doing here? What, um..." The woman put her fists on her hips and tried to look angry. "Why are you out so late?" She looked up at me. "Arnold, how could you keep Caroline out so late? She's just a teenager."

Kevin, a couple of years younger than his sister came out from behind me, pointing his finger. "You told us you had to go away to New York for a business meeting. This isn't New York, mom."

The bar they had just exited was pretentiously named "The Hamptons."

Kevin glared at the men still draped around her. "What's the business, Mom? Are you a hooker and these are two of your customers?"

They removed their arms from the woman's body.

"How dare you speak to your mother that way?" She extended her arm to slap Kevin.

I caught her wrist. "How dare you, Sarah? You told me your work responsibilities changed, but you didn't mention sex as one of the new ones." I released her. ""The winds of change sweeping the industry" was what you told your family."

Kevin retreated behind me again. Caroline, by contrast, stepped closer to her mother's face. "Yeah, how dare you, Mom? More like the weeds of sex than the winds of change."

"I'm your mother. I don't have to justify--"

"I'm your daughter. Justify missing the parent-teacher meeting this afternoon. Tell me, how could you miss the school play two days ago? We got a standing ovation. Were you proud of me? No, you were busy with these guys, pretending to be in New York." She spat on the ground beside her.

"You don't understand. Thomas Firsten is the CEO of my biggest customer. His son Albert is Director of Investor Relations. We've been discussing the First Pharmaceuticals IPO." The Firstens stood a little taller as if to back up Sarah's declaration. "How... how did you know I'd be here now?"

Caroline rolled her eyes while Kevin started to sob quietly. I turned and hugged him. "Kevin figured out you were still in town. We worked out the rest from there." I wrapped my arms around my children. "Come on kids. Let's go home."

Sarah gnawed on her lip. "I still have a few things to tie up with my customer. I'll be home in an hour."

"Don't bother."

"It's my home too, Arnold. You and I are going to have a serious talk about bringing the kids out so late and exposing them to this." She swept her arm towards the bar.

"You chose the venue, dear. You may as well stay here, in pretend New York. It will be better for the children." The three of us turned and walked towards my car.

I heard some whispering, and then the sound of heels clicking on the asphalt. "Wait! I'm coming with you."

Kevin quickened his pace; Caroline and I followed suit.

"Slow down!"

We didn't. I heard her yell as she tripped over something and fell. Four-inch spike heels are not the best walking shoes. The three of us turned and looked at my wife, clutching her knee and whimpering. I raised my eyes and stared at the Firstens, who gazed at the woman they had been happily entertaining a moment earlier. I met their eyes, and they turned to walk away. I guess it was up to me. Kevin, Caroline, and I walked quickly to our car. The kids gave me a sour look when I told them to get in the back.

I drove up to Sarah, went around, opened the door, and hauled her up by her arm. Her hands and knees were a little scratched, but otherwise, she was undamaged by her tumble. She buckled herself in and I started towards home. She turned to face our children.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow. I want you to go to bed as soon as we get home. I don't know how you're going to get up on time for school. Don't worry: your dad and I will work this out." She turned towards me, squeezed my arm, and smiled.

"If you hadn't rushed off to New York, you'd know this is reading week. They have no classes so they can study for exams. Don't wake them up tomorrow. Don't bother them."

She opened her mouth to respond but thought the better of it.

"Dad, how much does a hooker charge?"

"I don't know Kevin. I've never used one."

"Ask the lady next to you."

Sarah screamed, "Stop it."

We were still a few blocks from home, but I pulled over to the curb. "You started this with your so-called trip to New York. I now wonder whether all your other New York trips were actually to The Hamptons. Or maybe a variety of bars? Don't answer; I don't want to know now."

The anger evaporated from her eyes.

"You started this, Sarah; you're going to have to deal with it." I pulled back onto the road and continued driving. "I've moved all your stuff to the guest room in the basement. You can stay there till we make a permanent arrangement."

"I'm not--"

"We can't hear you, Sarah. We're going to play along with your deception, and pretend you're still in New York. We'll talk when you're supposed to get back, on Saturday."

"That's two days. I--"

"You said you had a lot of business to take care of on your trip, whatever that business was."

Sarah crossed her arms and fumed quietly. We got to the house and I helped her in through the garage. At the top of the basement stairs, she declared that her nightgowns and toiletries were upstairs.

"No. Everything that is distinctly yours is in the basement. We went to Walmart today and got you a mini-fridge, microwave, and coffee machine. It will be just like a hotel in New York. Wait here; I'll bring you a new toothbrush."

"You aren't welcome upstairs," Caroline added.

That took the last bit of wind out of Sarah's sails. I got the toothbrush and led her downstairs. We were alone for the first time in a few days. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Yeah." I went back up.

Sarah's scheduled flight, the one she told us she'd be on, was due to arrive Saturday at half-past one. Add thirty minutes to de-plane, get her luggage, and another forty minutes for the ride home. When I checked though, the flight she was supposed to be on was fifteen minutes late. I waited till three o'clock, then went down to the basement. Sarah was dozing in front of the television.

"You're back from New York. Are you satisfied?"

Her eyes flew open. "What do you mean?"

"Are you satisfied with the results of your trip? You had things you wanted to accomplish."

Sarah stood up.

"Yes... no... It was a wreck."

"Caroline and Kevin are still pretty pissed at you. When you come upstairs I suggest you avoid saying anything substantial to them. Keep it simple, like 'pass the salt' or 'do you have anything for the laundry?'"

"My suitcase-- I have to get it from the hotel."

I smiled. "Your suitcase arrived by taxi. It's in the front vestibule."

She started towards the stairs, then stopped to look at me. I nodded, indicating it was okay to go up. The one time she had tried that, the children forced her back down with a deluge of vitriol. I had warned them off this time before going to fetch their mother.

I offered to help with the suitcase. I think she was disappointed when I brought it down to the basement, rather than to our bedroom. I watched as she prepared to open it. She hesitated.

"I'll go. You don't have to be embarrassed by what you have in there."

"No. Come here and watch. I want to be open with you. There's nothing in here that shouldn't be."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Will you take my word that I didn't have sex with anyone?"

"I'd like to, but I don't think I can." I sat down on an armchair. "I'm listening if you want to say something."

Her story wasn't complicated. She lied about the travel because she knew I wouldn't like it if she was flirting (her words), coming on to (my words) a client in order to advance her business career. "I didn't have sex with anyone. We only--"

"Stop. I don't want to hear those details."

"The Firstens want me to come work for them. They'll give me stock options before they go public, which will be worth a fortune when the IPO takes off. We'll be wealthy, and you won't have to worry about supporting us off your little newsletter."

"If their IPO is successful. It's a big 'if.' The pharmaceutical sector is volatile. Working for them is a bad idea, Sarah. Don't do it."

Sarah thought I was advising against it because of jealousy. I was, but that was only part of it.

"After their IPO they won't need a third party to source their raw materials. Finding those materials for the Firstens is sixty percent of my current job. That job will disappear. It's either work with them or we live off your newsletter subscriptions. How many have you sold? A hundred? Two hundred?"

"Getting up to three hundred, at--"

"There are newsletters with tens of thousands of subscribers. You're not even near the minor leagues, never mind the big leagues. I'm proud of you that you were able to get three hundred people to pay for your advice, but honey, that's not enough to support a family. I'll be able to handle the Firstens. I'll lead them on, get the stock options, and if there are problems, I'll quit when they're vested. I'm loyal to you, Arnold. I love only you."

Sarah didn't think to ask why I expected to support our family with a newsletter. She didn't know how much my readers valued my integrity and ability to spot trends in the market. She didn't understand my talent in identifying market winners and losers: when they were going up, when they were ready to sink. All my subscribers were institutional investors: insurance companies, pension funds, mutual funds and the like. Sarah didn't think to ask how much my subscribers paid for the privilege of receiving my biweekly newsletter, or how many potential subscribers I turned down every week.

She also didn't give enough due to the investigative skills which enabled me to come up with investment recommendations. Those skills enabled me to know that she would be in The Hamptons club until closing time on the night of our confrontation.

"It's good to hear that you're loyal to me. It's good to know that you didn't have sex with the Firstens." I lied. It was terrible to hear those words from her because I knew they weren't true.

"I want to move back upstairs, into our bedroom."

"It's too soon to--"

"How can we get back to normal if I'm holed up in the basement?"

"We'll never return to what we had before. Your behavior traumatized Caroline and Kevin. They have to be ready to accept you back into their lives before we can consider anything."

"That's your fault, for bringing them to the bar."

"It's your fault for being there with the Firstens."

"I told you, that was business."

"You heard Kevin. He accepts that it was business. He just disagrees as to what business you're in. Was lying to your husband and children a necessary part of your transaction?"

Sarah shivered.

"Open your suitcase. You want to be open with me looking, so go ahead. I have to go back upstairs soon"

She unzipped it and flipped the cover open. I had already gone through it, so I knew everything looked innocent.

"You could have told me where you were really going, what you were going to do. I wouldn't have liked you hanging around those sleazebags but would have accepted that it was your decision to make. Your lies made the whole thing exponentially worse."

Sarah unpacked silently, her gaze not meeting mine. She finally spoke as she zipped the empty suitcase closed. "Do I keep this down here, or will you put it with the rest of our luggage in the storeroom?"

"Are you planning any more trips?"

She shrugged.

"You may as well keep it down here. You never know what's around the next bend in the road."

"So I'm still in exile. How will I get back in my children's good graces if I can't live as their mother?"

I shrugged. "Come upstairs and cook supper tonight. "

A smile spread across her face. "I'll make chicken nuggets and fresh French fries. That should start me back into their good books."

I shook my head. "You always refuse to make that because it's unhealthy. Serving something you despise tells them that things aren't back to normal. Why don't you make a tuna casserole; something normal? Come upstairs. Go see what we have in the kitchen."

The tuna casserole wasn't a great hit, but everyone ate without complaining. The dinner time conversation wasn't great, but polite. Sarah cleaned up, then went back downstairs. Caroline got dressed up to go out with her girlfriends, and Kevin got comfortable with his X-Box.

It was a typical Saturday night until Sarah came back up, wearing the same dress we found her in at The Hamptons club. The only difference was a grey wrap around her shoulders. "There's some business I have to finish with the Firstens. I should be back in a couple of hours."

Kevin looked up from his game. "Don't bother."

An assortment of expressions flew across Sarah's face. Fear, fury, arrogance, and finally a hint of a smile. "The IPO is next week. I have to sign on beforehand to get the full benefits."

It was my turn now. "Don't bother. Stay."

A horn honked, and Sarah opened the front door. "I want to afford more than tuna casserole. See you later." She closed the door behind her.

She came back in a moment later. I was already in my office, with the door half-closed. "Caroline," she yelled. Your friends are here to pick you up."

I looked at my draft newsletter, to the section marked "upcoming IPOs." I highlighted First Pharmaceuticals and moved it from the "Don't Like " to the "Intensely Dislike" column. The company's income came mostly from their treatment to alleviate MS symptoms. It was expensive and only mildly effective. I knew that at least two of the big boys had similar treatments under final review by the FDA. Their costs would be lower, and the big pharmaceutical companies had better deals with major health insurance providers.

First Pharmaceutical's research budget was minimal. They mostly bought patents for existing drugs, rather than risk the enormous development costs of new medicines. They didn't understand how their strategy created its own risk: irrelevance. Sarah didn't understand the danger of hitching her career to a wagon with a horse that was never fed. I heard the front door close behind her.

Sarah either didn't care about or didn't understand the significance of her going out this evening. She also didn't understand my business. I had only three hundred subscribers to my newsletter, but they paid three hundred and fifty dollars a month for the privilege. I could easily have hundreds more, but I needed my clients to feel they were part of an elite circle. My sincere opinion that First Pharmaceuticals was not a good investment pretty much ensured that its Initial Public Offering would be ignored by most major investors. It meant that Sarah's career change would not be successful unless the purpose of her job change was to spend more time with the Firstens at pretentious bars and fancy hotels.

Caroline poked her head into my office. "Are you going to be okay, Daddy?"

I shook my head. "Eventually."

"I'll be right back. I'm going to tell my friends to go ahead without me."

I tried to tell her she could go, but couldn't get the words out. She took my hand and led me to a couch in the den, sitting down beside me. Kevin put down his x-box controller and joined us, handing me a tissue to wipe my tears. He took one for himself.

Kevin and Caroline had insisted on coming with me to confront Sarah on that fateful night at The Hamptons. I had a hard time refusing them; together the three of us hoped we could save our family. When Sarah ignored my request and stepped out the door this evening it was the final closing time.

And I loved you when our love was blessed

and I love you now there's nothing left

but sorrow and a sense of overtime

and I missed you since the place got wrecked

And I just don't care what happens next

looks like freedom but it feels like death

it's something in between, I guess

it's CLOSING TIME

© 1992 Leonard Cohen