Ben finished the morning shift early, which meant he had the afternoon to spend as he pleased. He’d taken the bike out for the whole round, and came in before the 11am target he’d set for himself with a full 15 minutes to spare.
Of course, he could have taken the postal van, and finished even sooner, but that would have meant he’d need to spend a part of the afternoon, or evening, exercising. In fact, to match the 7am to 10:50am shift’s worth of physical activity, Ben would either have to spend close to four hours exercising later in the day, or put himself through an extremely intense session for an hour or two.
No, Ben preferred to do his entire shift on the bike, whenever the weather allowed. This would enable him to exercise while simultaneously enjoying the quiet of morning, the fresh air, and the awakening of the day. More importantly, for Ben, it would free up the rest of the day to spend as he wished.
Ben would spend those long and languorous afternoons in his modest one bedroom studio, with BBC Radio 3 or 4, or Classic FM, on in the background, reading one of the books recommended on Desert Island Discs, or, more commonly, going through his collection of classic comic books.
The wartime serial Commando was his favourite. Handed down to Ben from his father, the books depicted the wartime escapades of an elite commando force, in a series which doubled up as both entertainment and propaganda in the past, and presented a glimpse into history for the now.
Ben did like history. Beyond World War 2, Ben was particularly interested in the ancient Egyptians. Ben could name each and every pharaoh from the beginning to the end of the ancient Egyptian civilization, as well as the dates in which they reigned – to the extent that those dates were known with any surety amongst present records.
If it was a Saturday, Ben would follow the afternoon sports, sometimes on the television at home, and sometimes in the pub with friends. For those midweek days in which his friends were working, and when he didn’t feel like reading, Ben would take walks through the park, or along the coastal path, until he got tired, and returned home with some fish and chips under his arm in time to watch an evening film.
When Ben passed familiar faces on his round, Ben would always be ready with a greeting and a smile. Ben seemed to be familiar with everyone on the round. They would ask Ben how he was and he would tell them that he was fine. And he was. Ben was absolutely fine.
Ben was always fine.
Ben did notice, when he exchanged the enquiry, through politeness, and asked those familiar faces how they were, unlike himself, they were not always fine. Some were “ok,” some were “alright,” but many were considerably far from being fine.
Sometimes, this gave Ben pause for thought.
“Do you ever get the feeling that life’s too easy?” Ben asked his friends one afternoon during a break in the sports.
“No!” was the unanimous decision, shot back at him in immediate conviction.
Ben brought it up again two weeks later.
“Is it wrong that I don’t have any problems?” Ben asked during a half-time round of beers.
“What would be wrong with that?” his friends laughed.
“I feel fine,” Ben admitted.
“So?” his friends guffawed.
Then the game resumed, and Ben tried to push the question from his mind, and with it the growing unease, around the realisation that while many others seemed to not be fine, he, as far as he could recall, had always been fine.
That night, Ben awoke in a cold sweat. Ben had never had a panic attack, and failed to recognise the symptomatic signs of his fast beating heart, his clammy hands and his heavy breathing. Ben assumed he’d had a nightmare, but also, at the back of his mind, Ben realised that the cause of this disturbance had something to do with the conversation he’d had with his friends that afternoon.
Ben made himself a cup of tea. It was Earl Grey, and its rich taste did the trick of calming Ben’s nerves. Ben had heard the blend recommended on the radio, and saw no reason to stick with the budget teabags. Ben had always had a surplus of money. He noticed, indeed, that a single week of shifts would provide enough income to cover all of his expenses. The rest of the month, Ben continued to work, almost for the exercise, and the pleasure of being useful.
Ben had worked as a postman almost as soon as he finished school. He hadn’t achieved the grades required to continue on to further or higher education, and so began working at the age of 16 – back when a young man was permitted to join the workforce at this age, and since that time Ben had earned an income which far extended beyond his needs.
Yes, Ben had a surplus of money and so he would treat himself to a luxury once in a while, and the Earl Grey was worth it.
Ben lived alone, and so he didn’t have to worry about waking anyone up when he moved around the little kitchen, making himself the tea in the middle of the night. He didn’t have to wait to use the bathroom after, or rush back to bed before finishing off the last of the cup. Ben drank the tea at a leisurely pace which suited him. He calmed his nerves, and went back to bed when ready.
Yes, Ben had a surplus of time. He had a surplus of time and money.
This made things worse.
When Ben answered that he was “fine” to all the regular enquirers that following week, he did so with an increasing sense of guilt. His “fines” were tinged with embarrassment. He started to feel ashamed of how fine he was.
He alone could comprehend the growing anguish he felt at his perennial fineness, his surplus of time and his hordes of money.
Ben had never had much luck with women. There had been occasions when Ben was younger that his friends had tried to introduce him to a woman, but the woman would be put off by Ben’s lack of career ambition, his interests in the arts and history, his lack of interest in them. Something about Ben bothered them. Maybe they were unnerved because he was fine.
On his afternoon walks, Ben watched couples go to and fro. He would often pass familiar faces from his route, such as the Frasers, with Mr. Fraser dragging their dog by the lead, and Mrs. Fraser dragging Mr. Fraser by the arm. Ben felt no envy of these couples, but still, surely it must be wrong to feel this fine, for life to be this easy, for day after day to be so carefree.
At the end of the summer, Ben was invited to a funeral. It was for his aunt by marriage on his father’s side, and although Ben hadn’t known the lady very well, he felt good manners would dictate that he should accept the invitation.
He attended the funeral, and there he met a woman.
The End
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