Max

MAX

It was always the first job of the morning that was the toughest.

Maxwell O'Connor. would only just get in and then find that due to his punctuality the first job was his. It was not that he minded, just that as soon as he had parked the bike and then got to his desk Francine would call his name and ask him to deliver.

This morning it wasn't so bad though, a fairly light package to Mason, Baxter and Baxter. They were a usual client and they were just off Richmond Road. He wondered as he went back downstairs whether young Alys would be on reception, she was usually good for a laugh, or if it was a bit too early then Jeff would be on duty, he did not enjoy being the welcoming face of the large law firm at all and would have a face like a Dover sole.

Max had worked for the courier firm for eighteen months, in that time he had seen quite a few come and go but he had stuck to it, he had been a keen cyclist so the joys of weaving in and out of the city's traffic did not bother him, even so, he could not see himself doing this for evermore, but then again he had felt that in all his jobs.

He struggled to get to Mason, Baxter and Baxter, the traffic seemed heavier than normal today, he had not noticed this getting into work but that twenty minutes of getting into, and leaving work, had seemed to make an enormous difference. He wondered whether everyone had slept late.

He eventually got there just as Alys was getting in, to his delight, even though he was more dishevelled than usual and perspiring , she gave him her winning smile. Of such small things our days can be made, or destroyed.

It was only when leaving the office that he noticed the wallet. A small black one that looked quite cheap. By now the rain was heavier and he wondered whether he should go back in, it was starting to rain and he decided to take the wallet to the police station on Cathedral Road, he'd be passing there in any case.

By the time he got to Cathedral Road the rain was heavier, he decided before going in to have a quick look at the wallet. It was well used and certainly cheaply made, not much evidence of life inside it either, just a ten pound note, a parking ticket that was months old and a well used library card that was unreadable. However it was the last item that caught Max's attention, it was a drivers licence that was years old showing a not particularly good photograph, it was just that the name on it said Maxwell O'Connor.

*

Max was lying on the bed at his flat. The contents of the wallet were on his bedside table. Did the CCTV from Mason Baxter and Baxter catch him picking up the wallet? He had been there often enough and doubted very much whether it did but he could not get the thought from his head. He hadn't driven for years, the ban was only for six months but he never took it up again. So where did the licence come from? The address on it was one he had used, but the photograph was dreadful and as far as it was possible to make out bore no resemblance to him. Do we share our lives with countless others of the same name? Maxwell was considering what to do next. He decided that maybe a visit to the address was in order, the apartments on the old dock site on Clarence Road were still there and it was barely a decade since he'd left. He would go there on Friday, luckily his rota day off was only a day away.

He got up late on Friday, despite the wallet concentrating his mind, and set out for Clarence Road. He was missing the rush hour traffic, fortunately people rushed from that area in working hours not to it.

The apartments actually looked better than Max remembered, before living near the waterfront was a mark of how hard up you were, within a few years it had changed, now it was becoming the area to be.

We share our birthdays with approximately 18 million people. Our names with more, so was this really a coincidence? Max O'Connor hardly sounded that unusual he thought as he entered the lobby area and pressed the intercom for apartment 4 second floor. He surprised himself by doing it automatically, since leaving the house and getting here he had not stopped, not wondered once whether he was doing the right thing, or why he was doing it?

A young woman's voice answered,

'Hello? Max O'Connor's flat'

'Is Max in? I found his wallet, it was Outside Mason, Baxter and Baxter's earlier this week. I want to return it'

'Oh thank you, he was so desperate, not much in it though' she laughed and he could hear someone else's voice in the background, a male voice.

'Yeah, great come up please!'

*

He stood outside the apartment, it really did look cleaner, and knocked the door. The young woman, probably barely in her twenties answered, she had a genuine, all embracing smile and was genuinely shocked to see him.

'My God, you look like my Max, only older! This is incredible'

She turned and shouted:

'Max! You won't believe this!

Max duly wondered in from the kitchen and stopped and smiled.

'Max! How good of you to come, I am in the middle of writing something'

Max entered and sat down while the young woman went to the kitchen.

The apartment owner was still standing and said:

'I am in the middle of writing a novel. Featuring a character of my name , who is a bicycle courier, but I never thought he would have the wild ambition to find my wallet and come here'

'Are you saying...' Max got up feeling defensive.

'I think you know what I am saying, you are my creation and you cannot possibly conceive of how privileged I feel that you are here, we must talk and see where your life leads from this moment'

Max sat down again and this time slumped, he was beginning to think it might be liberating to be someone else's creation.