"Ah, Rosie. Perfect timing."
Wincing, I closed the office door behind me quietly and rushed the last few feet to my desk. The clock on the wall stared back at me in recrimination. I was late. Ten minutes late. It was like the last ingredient in this shit sandwich of a day and it was only ten past bloody nine.
My stomach churned uncomfortably. My palms were clammy despite the fact the heating had yet to take the chill out of the air. I hated this. I hated being late. I hated the idea that my boss, who had already done so much for me, would think I was taking advantage of his kindness.
It was stupid.
I didn't need to worry. The man currently patting down his pockets, his eyes wandering over the cluttered desk tops, could not have cared less. I watched him for a few moment before I shook my head and sighed. The process was a familiar one. If left to his own devices, it would take him at least ten minutes to realise his glasses were resting on the edge of his receding hairline. As they had yesterday. And last week too.
Dumping my bag into my desk, I drew in a fortifying breath. Mr Jacob Wright was a good employer – even if he was a bit scatter-brained at times. Most of the time. He just had a way of getting so lost in his projects, the rest of the world had a way of just falling away.
He was also kind and the tendency to be perceptive at the worst of times. Two things I didn't need and couldn't deal with. Not today.
I drew in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. A temporary fix to the emotions bubbling within me. It was just all too much. It was like my very skin had been rubbed raw, my wounds tender and ready to bleed at the gentlest of touches, and yet, the wounds were invisible. Only I could see them. Only I could feel them.
Keeping my back towards him, I said, "They're on your head, Jacob."
My hands busied themselves with my laptop. Opening the top. Plugging in the cables. Turning on the power. The routine helped to ground myself – to push back the overwhelm that so often tried to bury me under.
"So they are. Silly me. Thank you, Rosie." His voice greeted my ears a moment before there was a tell-tale squeak as he returned to his chair. "Can you make that special coffee you're so good at? The team huddle starts in five."
"Of course, Jacob."
"Oh, you are a star." He said in response and I knew, if I turned to look at him, there would be a wide fatherly smile upon his face.
Pushing from my desk, I hurried across the expansive office and into the modern office kitchen. I came to an abrupt halt and I hovered in the doorway. Half a dozen people milled about the small space, smiles on their face as their teased and joked with one another.
And like it had been for the past five years, I found myself present and yet somehow apart.
"I can't wait for drinks tonight," one of the women said with a sigh, leaning against the countertop. "I've got a sitter for the evening and I am prepared to take full advantage."
"Oi, oi. Watch out lads, Linds is on the prowl."
I jumped, the voice far too loud and far too close. A moment later an arm was thrown carelessly over my shoulder. At the touch, every muscle locked up in my body. I was a statue. I couldn't have moved even if I wanted to. A part of me wanted to shrug off the unfamiliar touch. Another part, the part I tried to ignore, relished the casual human contact. It's been so long. Too long.
I clenched my hands and forced myself not to lean into the tall lean body beside me. Forced myself not to prolong the contact for any longer than necessary.
Unaware of the thoughts rushing through my mind, Lindsey just snorted and rolled her eyes. "Grow up, Richie."
I shook as Richie chuckled beside me, unconsciously hugging me closer for a moment before he sauntered over to the woman giving her a nudge in the ribs.
I forced down the briefest flare of jealousy. Despite being the same age, Lindsey always seemed to have everything together. She had her own home. A son. Friends. A partner who doted on her. She always looked comfortable in her own skin. Everyone liked Lindsey.
Some people truly have all of the luck.
A part of me wondered what it would be like to be her. And yet, my own life had proved to me that the grass was not always greener.
I knew what they said about me. They tried to be discreet but some of the team had voices that carried. They thought me standoffish. Stuck up. That, as the personal assistant to the director, I thought myself too good for them. If only they knew.
Yet, they didn't. They couldn't. I didn't want them to know.
I swallowed and looked down at my hands. I picked at a jagged nail in agitation.
This was all my fault. My loneliness was my own damn fault.
I blinked and shook my head.
Sometimes it was all too easy to lose myself within my thoughts. The endless ones which went around and around in circles but only ever succeeded in making me feel worse about myself. To feel worse about the situation I found myself in. It was all so bloody pointless and never made me feel any better.
Instead, I wrapped my arms around my waist, my jagged nails biting into hips through the thin fabric of my t-shirt. I forced myself to be present. I forced myself to focus on the conversations around me even though it was like wading through treacle.
"Are we doing karaoke tonight? I've been practicing my Mariah impression all week." One of the apprentices joked, grabbing a spoon from the draw and miming enthusiastically in a terrible rendition of a Mariah belt.
"Karaoke – yes." Richie replied, before snatching the spoon from the younger man's hand. He turned to lean casually against the counter, a small smirk playing on his lips. "You singing Mariah? That's a no from me."
"Your loss."
They continued to chatter as they prepared drinks. I hovered on the edge. Present and yet apart. The same as it had been for years. Sure, they had taken pity on me when I had first arrived. I can still remember each and every time they had invited me along over the years. But, with no one to lean on, I had always said 'no' when all I desperately wanted to say 'yes'.
It had been too damn hard to pretend to be happy all of the time. Too difficult to pretend I only cared about whether I could go down the pub on a Friday night and get pissed on a bottle of wine or two. Those days had been snatched away before I had even turned the legal age to drink.
I didn't regret the choices I had made. I would do it over and over again for Mum. She was my best friend. She was my world.
They moved away with their drinks and I stepped up to the coffee machine on auto pilot. I kept my back to the group. They hovered for a few more seconds but eventually their footsteps retreated. Bracing my hands on the counter, I released a relieved sigh.
I allowed myself just a moment of stillness. A brief pause in order to force the hopes and dreams deep down into my
Reaching up, I opened cupboard and drew out a mug.
"Why don't you join us?"
I startled, the coffee cup clattering onto the countertop. Quickly closing my hands around the heavy china before it could topple over the edge, I blew out a breath.
"What was that?" I asked Richie quietly, my hands focusing on the familiar process.
Place the cup in the machine. Lift the top. Place in the pod. Pull down the lever.
Richie sidled closer. His familiar aftershave, which was occasionally so strong I could smell from the other side of the office, wrapped around me. It was the perfect amount today. I breathed it in, consciously unfurling the tight muscles in my shoulders which were starting to ache from the strain.
My hand trembled as I pressed the button on the machine. This closeness was unfamiliar. My veins buzzed with strange energy. I was so off kilter already that I almost missed his next words.
"You should come out with me tonight." He stated and my stomach fluttered in a way I hadn't felt in many years. "I meant with us. You should come out with the team." He continued, nudging my shoulder playfully with his. "We're going for dinner and drinks. And karaoke of course."
"I don't know. I have to be home by six."
"Well that's okay. Boss is letting us go early today." Richie said cheerfully, undeterred by my less than enthusiastic response. "And if you're home by half six, it can't hurt anyone."
Except it would. If I wasn't home, then Mum would be alone. If I wasn't home, Mum could get hurt. Sure, the carers might stay a little late if I was stuck in traffic but they were paid to do a job. They had their own lives - their own problems - to get back to. They wouldn't stay after hours just because I wanted to pretend to be like everyone else.
"I can't."
"Oh come on, just one drink. Just a Fanta." He cajoled as I finally lifted my gaze to his face. He was closer than I had thought, his kind eyes staring down into mine. "I know you prefer that one. Just think about it, please?"
The coffee machine hissed as it finished its program. Swallowing, I glanced away.
"Rosie? Just one."
Picking up the mug, I opened my mouth to say 'no' but instead, for the first time, I said, "Okay."
"Really?"
"Just for one."
"You won't regret it." He smiled.
I nodded my head, unwilling to add anything further to the conversation. Not that I could even if I tried.
My fingers tightened around the hot mug, the heat burning into my palms. I turned away without a further comment. Inside, things were a jumble. My feet were light as I strode away and yet there was a knot in my stomach. A part of me wanted to back track and take back my acceptance. The other part – the bigger part – yearned for this one bloody drink. For just one bloody moment of normality. One moment where I could be just like everyone else. One moment where I could be the person I was before my entire world turned upside down.
**
Several cups of coffee later, my eyes ached as I stared at the computer screen. Several times throughout the day, people had approached and pulled me into idle chatter. It was like my agreement to join them for a soft drink had broken down some unwritten divide. Suddenly I was approachable. It was so different to how it had been in the past few days, weeks, and months.
I had half expected Jacob to tell us off for talking. Instead, he simply smiled as he passed on his way back to his desk. His approval unspoken and yet felt.
While the change was jarring, it was good. Good to be included even if speaking with them only reaffirmed that I had absolutely nothing in common with my co-workers. There were no shared experiences. I had no idea what had been happening in the fantasy drama they were all gushing over. Still, being part of the chatter had been good.
A knock landed on the corner of my desk. I blinked and pulled my eyes away from the screen. Richie stood before me, his hands resting on the cheap faux pine as he offered me his crooked smile.
"Boss said we can head out now."
I glanced down at the time at the corner of the screen. The numbers swam in front on my eyes. "But it's only three."
"I know and he's paying us until five." He replied smartly, his blue eyes twinkling playfully as he walked around the desk and pulled my chair back. My hands fell away from my keyboard. "Come on, I promised you a Fanta."
"Wait," I called out, digging the heels of my shoes into the carpets to halt any further retreat. "What about my things? I still need to save the report."
"Save your work and pack up. But then you're coming with me for the best Fanta you've ever tasted."
I swallowed as his hands lifted from the back of his chair to land onto my shoulders. This was new. The touching. Sure, Richie was a tactile person – with everyone else – but that had never included me. It was odd to suddenly be a part of the equation. The best kind of odd.
I closed my files and the computer faster than I ever had in the past. My laptop stowed within my bag. My arms sliding into the sleeves of my coat that Richie held up for me. I picked up my mobile phone, its scratched casing having seen better days.
Richie wrapped an arm around my shoulder, guiding me towards the group hovering in the doorway. And, as I caught the expressions on their faces, I could read their disbelief. They had thought I wasn't going to come. They had thought I was going to stay behind.
I had too if I was being completely honest with myself.
But I proved them all wrong.
For once I was going to be a part of the team. For once, I could pretend I was just a normal person going for a drink with their co-workers.
I should have known. It was all going so well. Too well.
My phone jangled loudly, vibrating within my hand. The excitement which had accompanied me all day spoiled in just a moment. Dread filtered in its wake.
I shrugged off Richie's arm which suddenly felt twice as heavy.
"I have to take this," I muttered, spinning away to pick up the call. Tanya's name was emblazoned across the screen.
She never called during the working day unless - . My mouth dried as I swiped to answer the call.
My hands shook as I placed the device against my ear. "Hello?"
And then, as if my dread had called the words forwards, a young timid voice responded, "Rosie? I'm really sorry but it's about your mum."
* * *
What do you think happened to Rosie's mum?
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- Kat