Commute - Camp NaNoWriMo April 2015

Chapter Thirty - Panic!

Jamie can obviously sense I'm in a bad mood when I get home, as he stays well away. I stew on the couch, watching reruns of a TV series that ran thirty years ago, and having a panic attack. I'm going to lose my job. I'm going to lose my job just because my brain is refusing to work. It almost beggars belief. My first project, and I've blown it. I will have first thing tomorrow, when I arrive at work empty-handed and empty-brained.

I panic all evening, even when Jamie makes me beef lasagne, my favourite. I panic when I brush my teeth. I panic as I slip into bed. I panic all night, lying awake while Jamie snores next to me.

I lie awake for what seems like hours, going over and over the problem in my mind. I must drift asleep at some point, however, because when I open my eyes the sun is streaming in through the window, and Jamie (surprisingly) is already awake, humming a little tune and pulling on his slippers.

For a moment, I think it's just a normal, okay day. That everything will be fine... I'll sit at my computer, messing around on virtual worlds, and minimising the tab every time Mr Clifford, Charlotte Finley or Miranda French walks by. La la la. Happy, easy days.

Then, of course, I remember what is inevitably going to happen by the end of today. I'm going to be out of a job.

I slide back into bed and pull the covers over my head. "Great-Aunt Tilly's had a relapse," I tell Jamie, my voice muffled under the covers. "I have to take the day off for mourning."

"She died the week before last," he reminds me. "Remember?"

"Oh, darn it. What about her twin sister, Milly? She's got mad cow disease-"

"Maya," he says sternly, "you are going into work. And you are going to face up to Mr Clifford and be honest. Okay?"

"Noooo," I moan. "He's going to fire me, Jamie!"

"Maya," he says, "have you really got no ideas at all? You can't think of a format for this presentation?"

"Not a single one!" I sigh.

"Well... is there anyone who can give you an idea for it?"

I look at him hopefully. "You?"

He snorts. "Yeah, right. I was thinking more of the people on your train. I mean, they want this article to be finished, so they can be in the papers, right? They have an incentive to do it!"

That is why Jamie Roberts should be sitting in an expensive suit somewhere at the top of a skyscraper, with an army of servants at his service, busy being an evil mastermind. Instead he wastes his talent on me.

I leap out of bed and hug him. "Thank you! Thank you so much!" I gush. "They'll have an idea! You're right! THANK YOU!"