My Dulcinea

Copyright Oggbashan January 2021

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

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To me Helen was a goddess to be worshipped, someone far above me and I was just mortal. Why?

I don't know. She is really an ordinary woman, about six months older than my twenty-four years but she seems far more than that. She is my Dulcinea to my day-dreaming Don Quixote. I would charge windmills for her -- but I know whatever I do, won't affect how she feels about me.

She isn't clever or beautiful. She isn't a paragon of the virtues except she has three in abundance -- patience, tolerance and compassion. She needed all three because of me.

She knew I loved her but she didn't feel anything for me. She could have been cruel and asked me to do things for her while laughing at me. She didn't. She accepted my worship as if it was her due and was kind to me -- all she could offer.

She and I worked in the same office. She smiled at me often and each of her smiles meant more to me than she intended. Although I was slightly younger I had passed my probationary period and she hadn't. All that meant was that I could take actions within specified limits where she had to get a superior to agree before she could act.

At first I was sorry for her. She had come to the office with a glowing reputation and her superior, Andrew, was determined to prove Helen wasn't as good as she was said to be. Andrew's actions were petty. He would reject files put to him by Helen for a minor typing mistake, for example, and she would have to send it for retyping and the typists would usually make a different error...

Anyone else would make an ink correction and send the letter out anyway, but Helen wasn't allowed to. Her workload was the same as anyone else's but because of Andrew's insistence on absolute perfection, she was struggling and her work was piling up, so much so that it was upsetting her. Helen had been complaining to me but I couldn't do anything. My supervisor wasn't hers.

In January she had a week off for the flu. I think her work situation had made her depressed and she didn't want to come back as soon as she might have done.

But I loved Helen. On the first day that she was sick I went to Andrew and suggested I could do a few hours overtime to help keep Helen's work moving. He didn't think about it because he was getting adverse attention. Helen was slowing down the throughput of his section. He agreed that I could do an hour a day, five hours in total. If Andrew had thought at all he might have assumed that in five hours I couldn't make much difference to Helen's backlog because she worked thirty-seven hours a week.

He had forgotten that I was past my probation and had the power to do things Helen couldn't.

During my first hour of overtime I had signed off a dozen files that he had been bouncing backwards and forwards to Helen. One really needed retyping and I did what we were not supposed to do -- I retyped it myself.

By the end of my fifth hour of paid-for overtime, Helen's desk was completely clear. There was nothing outstanding. What Andrew didn't know was that for every hour of paid-for overtime, I had done another hour unpaid -- just for Helen. He wasn't there after normal hours so he didn't know whether I had done one hour or two.

On the Monday morning Helen telephoned Andrew to say her doctor had told her to return to the surgery that morning for an assessment to see whether she would be fit for work on the Tuesday. Andrew came out to see me and tell me Helen might not be back until tomorrow. Could I do another hour of overtime tonight?

"Yes," I said, "If it is needed? Helen's desk is clear."

He was annoyed but couldn't criticise me. I had done what should have been done but he hadn't let Helen do.

"It will be, Ralph," He said ominously.

During the day he filled Helen's in-tray with the equivalent of a week's work for her.

That evening it took me a whole three hours, only one paid-for, to clear that pile.

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On Tuesday morning Helen arrived about five minutes before me. She couldn't believe that her in-tray was completely empty. I arrived just as Margaret, one of our older colleagues told her I had cleared it on overtime.

"There was more than a week's work there!" She exclaimed.

Margaret said:

"Ralph loves you, Helen. That's his way of showing it."

"I know he does. But I don't love him."

She saw that I was standing behind her.

"I know, Helen," I said.

"But I can appreciate what you have done for me, Ralph." she said.

She gave me a hug.

"But if I invited you to the Valentine dance? You'd say no."

"Of course, Ralph. Not just because I don't think of you like that, but also because George already asked me. I'm really grateful to you. What you have done is amazing but..."

"Gratitude is no substitute for love?"

"You know it isn't Ralph. I know you did what you have done because you love me, but I can't love you."

"I know, Helen, but I can't help myself."

"Why not ask Joan? She knows you love me, but she doesn't mind."

"She doesn't?"

"No. She's my friend, and yours, ask her."

I was embarrassed. Joan sits opposite Helen and had heard every word.

"Joan?" I sad tentatively.

"Yes, Ralph, I will."

Joan stood up, walked across to us, detached Helen's arms which were still around me, and kissed me full on the lips.

"Ralph, at coffee break we need to talk."

"OK, Joan."

Half an hour later Andrew called me into to his office.

"Ralph, I know you love Helen. Everybody does. But what you did for her? I should have been annoyed. I'm not. You know Helen's father is a department head?"

"Yes, Andrew, but she doesn't ask for favours because of her father."

"I know. But she must have said something when she was off work. Her father had words with our Head, and this morning I was summoned to the Head's office. He gave me an unofficial telling--off. He might have gone further but he asked how Helen's workload was today. Thanks to you I was able to say it was completely clear.

He asked how? I told him you had done it on overtime. He was pleased and told me to be more tolerant of Helen's work. But he said two other things that you should know. Helen's probation is successfully ended today. I will tell her shortly, and that it is because of what you did. And -- the Head told me that because you have worked so hard to support Helen, and indirectly me, your name has been put forward for this year's promotion board."

"What? But..."

"Exactly, Ralph. You are three years too junior to be in range but what the Head says, goes. With that support, you should pass. Normally your own supervisor should give you this. He will get a copy."

He passed me a sealed envelope. I opened it. As Andrew said, it was a recommendation for promotion signed by the Head.

"Thank you, Andrew."

"No, Ralph. I should thank you. Not only have you helped Helen, you have helped me too, and as a result your work has been recognised."

He shook my hand. I was in shock, but when I returned to the office I told Helen that Andrew wanted to see her and that he had good news for her.

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When Helen returned she rushed up to where I was sitting and kissed me furiously.

"Helen! That's not fair!" Joan protested. You know he loves you but kissing him is teasing when you don't reciprocate."

Helen passed her letter to Joan.

She paused her kissing for a few seconds to say:

"Joan. That is because of Ralph."

I reached out and picked up my letter and gave it to Joan. I couldn't add an explanation because Helen was still kissing me. Joan read my letter, gasped, and then pushed Helen off me so Joan could take over the kissing. She showed the letter to Helen.

"What? How? You're not senior enough, Ralph."

Joan stopped kissing me so I could answer.

"That is a side-effect of loving you, Helen." I said. "I was given that for helping you."

"Not just me, Ralph. I know you love me, but you help anyone, like Margaret. You fixed her Morris Minor when it wouldn't start."

"That was easy. It was just a loose battery connection."

"But replacing her speedo cable wasn't, Ralph. And then there was David. When his dentist rang with an altered appointment, you ran David there and brought him back. I could go on. You may love me even though I don't have anything for you except to appreciate that you are a good colleague. Your love honours me more than I deserve."

"And I love him too, Helen." Joan said, "I don't see his love for you as an obstacle."

"Thank you, Joan," Helen said. "Please try to convince him I am just ordinary, grateful to him, but nothing special."

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At eleven o'clock Joan took me by the hand and dragged me off to the tea room where she made coffee for us. She sat on my lap.

"Helen isn't in your league, Ralph, either financially or socially." Joan said.

"I know," I said sadly.

Helen doesn't really need to work. She has a private income from her grandfather. She likes going to the Royal Opera House several times a month. Even one ticket for the seats she goes to would cost half my monthly income. Often she changes into her evening clothes in the ladies and reappears with a sweeping long gown that makes her look spectacular.

"Helen loves George, and he loves her. You know that, don't you, Ralph?"

George is another one in our department who doesn't need to work. His family insisted that he had to have a real job before he inherits the family estates.

"Yes, Joan, I know."

"What perhaps you don't know is that George asked Helen's father for her hand at Christmas and got the father's consent. They will probably announce their engagement at the Valentine's Dance. How will you react?"

"I will congratulate both of them," I said, "And be happy for them. I want the best for Helen, and if George is, and I think he could be, why not?"

"Ralph? You have no sisters?"

I couldn't understand why Joan asked that.

"No. Why?"

"And you went to a boys-only school and the National Service in the Royal Navy?"

"Yes?"

"And at university there were no women on your course?"

"No. Electrical engineering tends to be men only. Why are you asking these questions? You knew the answers already."

"Yes, Ralph, I did. But my point is before you started work in this office you hadn't really met women. You treat Helen as if she is a goddess to worship. She's not. She's nothing special except for the way she treats you. She could laugh at you, ridicule you or even reject you. She doesn't. That is her best trait. She treats you almost as if you were her favourite dog. She appreciates your unconditional love but no woman marries her dog."

"Woof!" I said.

Joan giggled and then kissed me.

"And that is one of the best features about your love for Helen. You know it is hopeless and she will never consider you as a possible lover but you don't mind. You just want the best for her. That is love."

"But? There must be a but, Joan."

"Yes, there is. You have never really had an equal relationship with a woman. Despite your age you are very naïve. Helen knows that and treats you well despite it. I know that. Almost everyone in the office knows that. They are slightly amused by your infatuation with Helen but they also love you for it."

"We do."

Margaret had come into the tea room as Joan was speaking. She hugged me and kissed me on the cheek.

"Ralph, you should listen to Joan, and perhaps to Helen as well. They both want the best for you. We all do. You need a real woman, not a fantasy one, and you have a woman sitting on your lap who loves you."

Margaret ruffled my hair.

"Ralph, congratulations on being selected for a promotion board. But that will be in July. Before then? You need to develop a more realistic attitude to women. Assume you get promoted and become a supervisor. Could you tell me off for a mistake, or worse still? Helen? Women are just people, not beings to be worshipped. You need to think of women as people. I hope Joan will ensure you do."

Margaret made her coffee and left us alone.

"Margaret is right, Ralph," Joan said. "It will be my job to convince you that women are just people."

Between then and the Valentine's Day dance Joan and I went out as a couple several times. Each time Joan made sure I was kissed -- frequently. She also argued with me, sometimes just to prove we could without affecting our relationship.

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During the dance, Helen and George announced their engagement. I was one of the first to congratulate them. Helen kissed me on the cheek and George shook my hand. He knew I was no rival for Helen's affections.

Helen and George were sitting a few tables from us. Like Joan and me they were avoiding alcohol. George and I were driving, and all four of us knew that being drunk at an office event could have a bad effect on our careers.

Towards the end of the event I could see that Helen was upset with George. I couldn't see why but I went across to find out what was up. Helen flung herself into my arms.

"George is drunk," She sobbed against my chest.

"How?" I asked. He was on cola."

"I know. So was I, but I know I have had some alcohol."

"Idiots!!" I said. "They must have spiked your drinks. I was caught last year. This time Joan and I made sure we never left any part-drunk drinks when we went to dance."

"We did. We weren't expecting someone to be that mean."

"It's more than mean. It could be fatal if George drove not knowing he was drunk. OK, Joan and I will sort you out."

"We will?" Joan had come across to see why Helen was hugging me.

"George and Helen's drinks have been spiked," I explained. "You can drive, can't you, Joan?"

"Er, yes. But I wouldn't want to drive George's sports car."

"That's OK. If Helen and George go in my car with you driving, I'll follow in George's car and then take him home with you following me. They only live about two hundred yards from each other."

"I want George to stay with me tonight," Helen said while blushing.

"No problem," I said. "I'll park George's car outside your house and give you the keys."

That's what we did. The three of us had to help George into Helen's house. I gave Helen George's car keys. She kissed me briefly on the doorstep.

"Joan?" Helen said. "Thank you to both of you from me and George. But can you show Ralph how much I want to thank him? -- except that he's yours..."

Joan did. I drove her back to her place but she dragged me inside to give Helen's thanks to me -- in bed.

By the morning I knew I was loved by a real woman, but I still have feelings for my fantasy Dulcinea, Helen, even when I was Best Man at her wedding to George.