Haha haha ok

Talk

Previously on "Is Beau gay or European?"
Just read the previous chapter 0k

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It's quiet in the office. He doesn't seem to talk to me, I don't seem to talk to him. These past weeks were just an exception, huh? He has locked himself up in his room for the past three days, a week after the night out with the Office Gang. Del seems friendly to me, but mister French Ass acts like I don't exist. He acts like no one exists. Doesn't even look at you when you pass him in the hallways. He only talks if you say something to him, but his answers would still be short. Mr Del and Pamela were in the coffee room when I entered, both busy with other things while enjoying a rather nasty but hot cup of coffee. She quickly spits out hers when I walk into the room.
'Albert, hi!' she quickly speaks, 'Close the door.'
Del sighs and hides himself behind his paper. I shut the door and take place next to an excited Pamela.
'So,' she starts as if she's about to have a very important meeting, 'Mr Del told me that Beaus "10 year in Top Community" anniversary is coming up in some weeks. So I thought-'
I immediately get where she is going and sigh like Del did too.
'What?' Her frown makes it even more clear that she doesn't understand, 'What if we have this little surprise party? Cake?'
'Let's not do that. He'll hate us even more than he already does.' I get up to make a cup of tea. Pamela doesn't stop.
'It doesn't have to be big. I mean, I don't really want to go full out for that prick. But we can do something small, right? As a reminder that we thought about it?'
Sometimes, Pamela really is too social. I'm often confused thinking about how she ended up here. Were it her charms? Is her extraversion just an act so it won't be obvious that she's going to stab someone's back? Beau stabbed many backs, yet people never saw it coming. Maybe it's some unknown chromosome in DNA scientists haven't discovered yet.
'Believe me, he's not a party person.' I say, 'You can congratulate him, but no sudden surprises.'
'Yeah, because you know him so well.'
'I've heard enough stories, yes.'
'Well, maybe he's changed.'
I start to lose my temper. It could've been because my sister entered my mind and I often get emotional when I think of her, but Pamela was pissing me off. Luckily, it's pretty noticeable.
'I agree with Albert.' Del spoke up, 'We should not irritate him on his anniversary. Ten years isn't even celebrated. It's twelve and an half, remember?'
Pamela swayed with her hair, 'I'm going to give him something anyway. I was planning on writing your names down on the card as well, but now I'm not doing that anymore.'
'Don't worry,' I say as Pamela gets up to leave, 'I can live with that.'
'I've got to get going. Duty calls.' And with that, she leaves me and Del alone.
It's always a bit awkward between me and Del. He loved my father and Stanley, but never really showed that same affection to me. I wonder if it's because I'm very different from my father. Besides some facial things and height, I'm more like my mom. He sips his coffee and scrolls through some paperwork on his iPad. I get my phone out of my bag and pretend to pay no attention. His sudden voice startles me.
'Help me, boy. It's been two years since you fully work here?'
I look at him, but it seems like he hasn't even looked up from his iPad.  Nerves start controlling me.
'Ah. Yes. Almost three.'
Then the silence is back. He must be thinking a lot. It's been three years since her death. And we all didn't change. I've never got to talk about it with mr Del. We never really share our feelings. Which is weird, because he once felt like an uncle to me. Sometimes I wish he still played that important role to me. But we're colleagues. Rivals. We're no family and I definitely shouldn't feel those things for my rival colleagues.
'How long have you been working here, mister?'
I don't get any reply. He doesn't even look up. It was a stupid move of mine to even try to talk. I'm an extrovert in disguise. I love talking with people, be loud and be stupid, but in a place like this, I just can't. When I gave up on talking with me Del, he picks the conversation up again.
'How's your father doing?'
Guess he just didn't hear my question.
'My father..' The way I spoke made him look up. I rub the back of my head while I look at my spare hand on the table. Finding words to say. Can't find words to say. I hate talking about my dad. He once was all mighty, admirable, iconic. It's embarrassing how he is now. And it's only getting worse. I can't possibly open up to someone like Del and talk about how afraid I am, can I?
'He's not doing good?' I hear a worried tone in his voice, and when our eyes meet, I see a worried expression that matches.
'Good, good..' It feels like I lost my tongue. The sentences that normally flow out of my mouth as if I studied them for years are now lost and I can't find them anywhere. It's frustrating and makes me feel hopeless.
'You can be honest with me, son.' The words sound desperate. Of course, Del was deeply involved with my father. They were very close. Even though Del hasn't seen him in years, he must still be worried about his friend daily. They worked together for how long? Probably already before he got kids. I suddenly feel bad.
'I'm not an expert, so I don't really know..' I start, 'He just mixes a lot of things up. You see.. He's been stuck. I feel like he's been stuck. Every time I have to pretend Stanley is still around, as if she's running the business. He forgets everything I say, and forgets more and more from the past. It's exhausting and very scary, actually.'
I didn't expect the words to flow out of my mouth like that, especially not now. But once I started talking, I completely opened up. I have no one who I can talk to about this. Of course I opened up as soon as I had the chance.
'You've seen a doctor already?'
'Some kind of dementia, Alzheimer, you tell me. All doctors are vague.'
Del softly nods, trying to process.
'I'm sorry, boy, that's terrible.'
'Yeah.'
Then it's quiet again. I swallow some time, wait till he continues. The conversation must go on. But it doesn't. Del starts packing and gets up.
'I'm sorry, but I really have to go,' he says and I can tell he's honest. Before leaving the room, he quickly adds: 'I'm there for you, son.'
I nod and when he leaves, I feel empty. But some kind of relieve also fills me up. Happy feelings, warm feelings, the feeling that there's at least one person who will listen to me. Probably because he cares my dad and not about me. But still, there's a place I can go to.