Never-Man

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

My desk-phone trills sharply the next morning at work. I answer it hesitantly, anticipating Mark’s voice at the other end.

Sure enough. “A.V., can you come to my office?”

Picking up a legal notepad and a Bic, I hasten to his cabin a floor below my desk. I don’t know why he insists on using two-thirds of my initials. Maybe it’s his way of keeping an emotional distance, by reducing me to letters and denying that I have an existence outside this automated one.

Okay, I just described my job as ‘automated’.

I pause outside his office to remember what reason Derek gave him for us not coming in to work yesterday. Too late. He’s hovering near the day, juggling a cup of coffee and his phone. He beckons me in.

“Right,” he’s saying, “Right, I’ll have someone get back to you on that one.” He snaps the phone shut and turns to me. “So, I got the word that the Wilkinson contract got signed. I think you should start looking at the compliance requirements immediately. Just, sort of, get things into place for later.”

I allow myself to breathe. This is good news! Does this mean I can take the night off?

“A couple of due diligences have to be tackled. Get to work on those.”

Of course.

I swear inwardly, at the same time, trying to maintain a calm exterior. The files on his polished table are massive whales, pages spilling out of their blue cases. I gather them in my arms, tottering a little under their weight. At least he hasn’t quizzed me on why I bunked office. Oh, is piling more work onto me his way of getting back? Tripping slightly on a raised fold of carpet, I hurry out of the cold room.

My cell phone shows five missed calls from an unknown number. Curious, I call back.

“Ariaaaa!” Gina exclaims, amidst sounds of angry traffic.

“Oh, it’s you..” I say, not without dejection I was half-hoping it was Rhys checking up on me. “Well, hello!”

“Hello, yourself! Where are you?”

“Um. Work?”

“Oh, I am silly!” Her voice trills. “But I called to tell you – I’m in the Cityyyy!”

She has this annoying habit of dragging ending syllables into their next lives.

“Yeah, Mom told me you’d be coming State-side. I guess you need the keys?”

“Actually, I don’t. I’m staying with a friend. But could you be a doll and not tell Mom?”

My curiosity is piqued. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“I don’t want her worried about me.”

“Where are you staying, then?”

“A friend's. Listen, hun, I got to go. Philly! That’s not – Aria, I’ll look you up, later, okay?” She disconnects before I can quiz her further.

I’m absolutely, insatiably curious. Who is she living with? Which friend? Why isn’t she staying with me – I am her own sister! And why does she get to hang up on me?  I’m the busy lawyer. Humph.

Growing more irritable by the second, I open the first file, then reach for a month’s supply of Post-its. Might as well get this over with and head home.

***

A few days later, I am sipping lemonade, lounging by the pool in our backyard in my blue and white striped bikini. The sun’s come out today with a vengeance and it feels syrupy against my skin. Gingerly, I dip my big toe into the water. This past week hasn’t been particularly hard, considering Rhys hasn’t bothered to call since our showdown last Sunday. I am growing quite used to waking up alone and cooking my own meals. Which is an achievement in my book, because I haven’t ever lived without him before.