As I kicked back on my seat, the memories of how long I spent in here with Joel came back at full force. His evil smirk plagued my mind, plagued with how happy I thought he was, but instead he was evil. It showed remembrants of how someone could be so deceiving. I wonder how he could be so diligent in how he worked things. And why me? Why did he want to hurt me?
It hadn't crossed my mind before, of how someone could be so controlling. Sitting here thinking made me realise that I was just being controlled the whole relationship. I was his puppet and he was my master. He was the one holding the strings, giving me the directions of what to do. I still remember the way he told me to dress. And I know I told Blake and Beth that I didn't know anyone named Joel, but sitting here, in this dingy office, has made me realise that I'm always one to let people control me.
It's hard sometimes though, to let go of how you lived your life. I know that much. I know how hard it is to let people in and let them be my friend. But, I'm guessing that's because I was bullied for so long by everyone around me. I often felt like life was dragging me down but now I realise that it's because I let people control me. I was their puppets, someone who wouldn't listen to my own mind, someone who just called themselves something else.
I knew I had to get out of this office, away from the memories but I just couldn't bring myself to get away from everything. Sitting here remembering the man I supposedly fell in love with, gave me something to remember. It gave me a sense of being able to remember the way I was meant to be controlled and how things were meant to pan out. It gave me a sense of normality, except, I was never going to have normality. I was never going to be able to remember things the way I used to. Not when I was questioning every motive I've came up with. Of how I was questioning the motives of someone and everyone close to me. I pushed away my own brother because he lied to me about Naomi. But I should've known. Naomi was a bitch and everyone knew that. She only ever thought of herself. I'm just sort of surprised that she's still got her children.
The article was plaguing my mind. Making me wonder whether I'd gotten it right or not. Whether it was subtle enough or if it was absolute rubbish. Yes I said to my brother a while ago that I didn't want anyone to know my side of the story and what happened to me but I included that, because it's true, you don't know what anyone's like these days. You don't know whether they're going to be helpful or down right abusive.
"One thing," Andy started, bursting into my office. "This article is freaking perfect. So much so that's it's getting a bigger spread. What made you say about your abuse?"
"Thank you. And, I began this article when I was healthy and "normal" and "in-love" but I can't remember them, and love just isn't collectively all about finding the "one," it's about sibling love and family love too. So, I just thought to include it, since I couldn't actually understand what I was meant to be writing," I responded. "I included my abuse because I thought; 'oh hey, let's include something that makes me a downright bitch!' I'm joking obviously, but no, I included it because I felt like it was a factor to include in finding yourself in love. Or feeling like you are. As people can be deceiving. You could see that someone is perfect for you but they could have a dark side."
"Is that why you're scared to get close to Miguel? I know that's who you meant in the article."
"Partially, yes. I just feel like everyone's out to get me, even though they aren't. It sounds stupid, I know. But I can't get over what happened to me. Everyone hid it from me, the state of the accident, and it's killing me inside. It's killing me because if he lied to me, how many more times will he lie to me? I just can't fathom the mindset he was in to do that me."
"I don't know how you must be feeling due to you having amnesia but, Niamh, not everyone is going to be the same as Joel. Not everyone is going to hurt you at every chance they get. We know you're struggling with reality but you're not fighting alone," she said, sitting on a chair.
"Andy, it's like a piece of paper, once you scrunch it up it's bashed. But if you try and straighten it out again, that's when the challenge starts. You can't straighten it out. It's broken and then you'd have to start again, but the remnants of the past still linger on. They haunt you and tease you until no avail. I'm just like a piece of paper, but obviously not as flat, but you get the picture. I can't be straightened back out, I can't be put back together."
"You're nothing like a piece of paper. I can guarantee you that. You are strong. You are loved. You are so damn beautiful. Any guy that messes you around should be shot. Do they think that because you're fat you're one to be trampled on? Cause if that's the case then I will go after them with a shotgun."
"You don't own a shotgun," I stated profusely.
"I have a baseball bat though," she replied.
"Remind me never to get on your bad side," I laughed.
"It's not that bad, really," she started. "But, get on my bad side and I might just spank your ass so hard that you'll forget to walk for a few hours," she then laughed. My face must've fell because she then continued, "I'm joking. Gosh, your face!"
"ANDY! That's mean. If only someone would tie you up and whip you senseless."
"Oh, they do, honey. That's why sometimes I'm walking around like someone's stuck a dildo up my ass."
"Oh... My... God!" I spluttered. "How?! Why?! Are you FREAKING INSANE?"
"Honey, you should know me by now. I love a good whacking on my butt. It gives me some flare," she spoke, doing some jazz hands in the process.
"I swear I work for some weird, crazy cat lady. Well, minus the cats but add it in human form. I can't believe you exist."
"Oh, I exist alright. We all exist. Well, people that are into being punished. It turns them on," she purred.
"Please don't. But, what's my next assignment? For the magazine, I mean."
"You won't like it one bit," she started.
"Please just tell me, Andy," I pleaded, making my eyes roam around the room.
"Err, Niamh, I need you to interview Miguel."
"Why me?"
"Because you have a rapport with him. You already have that established relationship with each other. More than what some people can say. You have the drive you need to get the questions done and he knows about your dyslexia so he'll be patient when you write everything down."
"Why can't one of the other girls go? I'm sure they're jumping at the chance to get to meet the one and only, Miguel Manuela," I bitterly spat.
"Niamh, I know you're reeling with things, but can you please do this for me? Please!" She begged.
"Fine," I groaned, throwing my head back.
"You're the best," she clapped ecstatically.
"But you owe me."
"How about, I buy you drinks?"
"Can't drink alcohol yet. I'm still on meds for things. You can buy me doughnuts though," I negotiated.
"That, I can do. What kind, strawberry or raspberry?"
"Can I get a chocolate sprinkle one? Although, don't tell my brother or Beth, they have me on a strict diet."
Her hearty laugh erupted from her lips before she replied, "for you, anything. Want a coffee brought back?"
"Yes, please," I smiled.
To think that there was no familial resemblance between Andy and I, that we weren't sisters. That we didn't grow up together, because we just got each other with the drop of a hat. Yes, she was my boss and yes, she is different but I think that's what makes us click. We just get each other. We understand each others' needs. We understand that sometimes we can get a little too carried away with things. We just can't be confined to a nutshell. There is no way that could happen.
After Andy left to go get my doughnut and coffee, I pondered over the questions she wanted me to ask Miguel. If it was anything to do with my accident, he didn't want anyone to know it was him. He wanted to keep it quiet. It could be about his love life, his business or anything. I'm getting worked up at the thought of how this could go. I mean, we could get down and dirty, even though that's the last thing on my mind.
I don't know what made me reject this offer. Oh, wait, I know, it was the fact that he told me in the middle of eating a McDonald's meal that he wanted me to get pregnant. And I'm sure it was his kid he wanted me to carry.
It's crazy though, how someone can influence your decision in how you do you work. I know I can't really say he's influenced my work but it does make me regret decisions I'm making for things. I hate that I've turned into someone that's running away from confrontation - especially because I learned to go with the flow after the whole Alissa attack. I learned to be a better person and that not everyone was out to get me, but I just feel like Miguel is plotting with Alissa for the takedown.
Just like in the dream... How convenient.
I hated it. I hated the feeling of selflessness, and the selfishness I'm dealing with. I hated feeling like everything was my fault, when it wasn't. But I hated feeling guilty. I hated feeling like I was to blame, that I was the problem within every situation.
"Have you seen Andy?" Claira, one of my colleagues, asked.
"She's away out just now. What can I do to help?"
"I just need to ask her who's doing the interview with Miguel, since we need to get the article out soon."
"That would be me," I answered.
"Oh," she said defeated.
"I tried to tell her to give it to someone else, but she says that because I've built a rapport with him, I have to do the interview, so he's comfy."
"Ugh! Why does it always have to be you?!" She then snapped.
"I'm sorry?" I queried, confused.
"It's like Andy has this connection or something with you, like she wants to get in your pants and that's why she's giving you these tasks. When all you are is a fickle columnist, who does nothing for this magazine."
"What, are you wanting to do the interview because you want to get into Miguel's boxers? If so, I'm sorry to tell you, he's not someone who just fucks and dumps. And he's definitely not into whores who throw themselves at him."
"And he's after someone like you?" She laughed. A full on laugh that took the focus of the whole office. "You're nothing but a fat bitch who looks like she needs to go under the knife to remove it all. Cause you're too fat to work the machines at the gym," she spat.
"You know, Claira, you're a really nasty person. And I really pity whoever gets to sleep beside you at night. But, you know what? I can change how I look with hard work and maybe even going under the knife, but you, you won't be able to change your attitude. A leopard never changes its spots," I said, standing up. "I might be fat and less agile and the person that no one wants, but, at least I'm able to fend for myself. I'm able to stand up for myself without anyone backing me up. I might've moved here from London to get rid of the bullies. But that was years ago, and since then, I've learned to defend myself against incompetent bitches like you. I'm sure if I get the attention of everyone in the office I'll be able to make a connection. A connection of how you seem to put everyone down in the way they do things, or how they look. No one's perfect, Claira. Not even yourself. But ask yourself this; if everything's taken away from you, how would you be? How would you survive? Just think about it," I said, patting her on the shoulder before walking off.
"You think that you're even welcome here?" She continued. "Do you think that everyone in the office loves you? Cause you're wrong."
"I don't care if the whole office hates me or loves me. I'm here to do a job, to pay my rent. To pay my bills. But, do you think that by bringing all this attention to you that Andy's going to give you your demands? Andy might be lenient on some things, but she's not a pushover."
"What, like she is with you and your 'accident'?" Claira said, using air-quotes.
"I didn't ask to be bashed over and over again by an ex-boyfriend. I didn't ask to be put in a three-month coma."
"You think you're so special, don't you? You think that because you're dyslexic you'll get everything handed to you on a silver platter."
"No, I don't. I work hard for everything I've achieved. I've worked my ass off to get where I am. Yes, I do have to get my assignments earlier than everyone else, because I do have dyslexia. But it doesn't stop me. I might be fat and I might not be able to work the machines at the gym but you know what? I'm still a human being with feelings. I'm still one to get upset and angry and happy. But I suppose you think that that's impossible for someone like me. That I'm meant to be depressed because of my weight and because of my stature within the community. Claira, I don't know where you get your assumptions from, maybe it's because of the way society perceives things but just because I am fat, doesn't mean you can mould me into something that isn't me. Are we clear?"
"You're such a freaking bitch. You don't see what everyone else sees. You don't see that you are given everything. All the best assignments, the only other office, the better chances at other jobs and everything else. You're eating directly off of Andy's palm."
"I'm really not? Look, stop embarrassing yourself, because that's all you're doing," I started.
"I second that," Andy cut in. She was standing there with the pastry bag in one hand and the coffee cup holder in another. "I've not even heard the full extend of this argument, except that I'm apparently giving everything to Niamh. When that's completely and utterly false. I give Niamh her assignments in advance because she has dyslexia, she has the only other office to help her focus, without the distractions of others. Claira, I think it's time you find yourself another job. I run a place of work and I don't like it when anyone bullies another person. Especially of the way they look and the assignments I give them. So pack your stuff and just leave," Andy then spoke sternly.
"You don't mean that," Claira said, shocked. "I'm the best damn writer in this damn office."
"Everyone can be replaced, no matter how good you are," Andy stated.
"So why didn't you fire her when she wasn't here for four months?" Claira started, pointing to me.
"She had a valid reason for not being here, Claira. She was in hospital for 3 months, following an assault on her, and then her doctor told her not to come to work because she has severe headaches. Therefore, she was off on medical grounds. I can't fire someone on the grounds of medical. As that would be classed as unfair dismissal."
"So you're firing me for bullying?"
"Yes, I am. You can't go round the workplace shouting your mouth off at people, calling them all the names under the sun, just so you can get the better jobs or something. I don't know what you're playing at, Claira, but it's completely wrong on so many levels."
"Fine, I'll leave, but you've not heard the last of me."
"I can blacklist your name at every publication house in Noli, and some may get carried around the world, so I'd watch what you're saying, Claira."
"You wouldn't dare," Claira spoke.
"Claira, do I look like I'd lie? Your last payslip will be mailed to you, and your last wage will be in the bank shortly, but because it's near the beginning of the month, it won't be a lot. Just scram before I do call the police, as I can't take much more of you and your sordid lies."
Claira walked away in a huff, but not before taking backward glances at Andy and I. I knew that Claira would be thinking of some sort of scheme to get her revenge on Andy, but it didn't look like it phased Andy all that much. There again, nothing ever did phase Andy. She was all rainbows and sunshine.
I walked myself back into my office, and slumped down on my seat. I had no energy to deal with the remainder of the day. Let alone the rest of the week. I knew I had to figure the strength to carry on, but I just couldn't muster the encounter. Already, I'd had two arguments today. One with my brother, over Miguel and my amnesia, and the lies that he'd supplied me with. The other with an ex-colleague. I was pissed off at this fact. Pissed off with the way everyone seems to be thinking. I just want to curl up on my bed and cry. Cry for all the pain I'm feeling, cry for the memories I've lost, cry for the time missed. But more importantly, cry for the way I'm being treated again.
It doesn't bother me in the sense that it's meant to bother me, but it's bothering me that people just can't get past the way I look on the outside. Granted I look like a beached whale, but that shouldn't stop people from getting to know the real me underneath, right?
"So, what was that all about?" Andy asked, coming into my office and shutting the door behind her.
"Claira was asking me who was getting the Miguel interview. I said me, and then she went off on one at me. Calling me everything under the sun and such. Can we just forget it? Cause I really want to."
"Sure, but, Niamh, it will come back to bite you in the ass maybe. Well, it will come back to me but you know."
"Andy, can you please give this interview to someone else? If one person is already starting, how many more are going to follow?"
"If that's the case, then there will be a long line at the unemployment office, waiting on them cashing in their giro. I'm not going to stand for workplace bullying, especially not against you."
"Why am I so special to you, Andy?"
"You're like my little angel. You've helped rescue my magazine. I think people relate to your ramblings about everything, that more people have fallen in love with you. They're buying the magazine, for you. But, magazine aside. You're special to me because you're special. You make me smile and you make me happy. If I'm having a crappy day, I can easily come to you and talk to you, and I'd feel a lot better. That's why I love having you around. You're also one of my best friends, so it'd be weird to not see you every day," she explained, after she'd fallen down on a chair.
"I just hate being so fat that everyone decides it's ok to just pick on me constantly," I spoke unconsciously.
"Babe, you can't help the way your body intakes food. Your metabolism could be a slow one. Don't let her words bother you, because in all honesty, I find you quite sexy."
"That's you though, Andy. This is me we're talking about. I'm just a flabby mess. It's actually quite sickening as to how I get through the day without wanting to kill myself."
"Don't ever let me hear you saying that. It's possibly the most inhumane thing to say to someone, even if it is about yourself. Everyone deserves to be on this planet, not just skinny people," she said, finally handing me my coffee.
"It's not that I think I don't deserve to be here, but I'm taking up more oxygen than some people. I know I won't be able to give my husband children, so I don't know how to tell someone that."
"Have you ever tried to conceive a child?"
I took a drink of the sweet aroma before answering, "no. But I'm so irregular that it'd be impossible to even know when I'm menstruating. Or ovulating, whichever the hell it's called."
"Exactly my point. You're only 26, Niamh. There's loads of time before you decide to actually conceive a child. Just because you're fat doesn't mean you're not capable to do so. Stop putting yourself down and listen to you gut, and follow your instincts," she started. "You already know one person that wants to date you, but you pushed him away. I get it that you're scared but sometimes you have to let go in order to get what you want. I know you want Miguel, that's evident with the way you're avoiding him, but what do you want to do about it?"
"Who says I like Miguel?"
"Your eyes. Every time his name is mentioned, you go off into a weird slumber, but a slumber where you're still here. It's weird to describe but you're visually gone but you're mentally still here. Does that make sense?" She asked, taking a long gulp of her coffee.
"No, not really. But, I kind of get the point of it. However, I'm nothing like that. I don't go into dreamland whenever Miguel's name is mentioned," I smiled.
"You do so. There's no running from it," she laughed.
I sighed. Giving into her wondrous ways. "You win, Andrea! I go into spasms mindfully whenever I hear Miguel's name!"
"Nice to know that you do, honey," his voice rung out.
I whirled my chair around and stared at the door, only to notice him standing there with a smug smile upon his face, as if he'd heard the whole conversation. Andy was sat in her chair giggling like a buffoon on drugs, thinking the whole thing was funny, when it was not.
"How much of that did you hear?" I asked, shellshocked.
"Just the end of it, where Andy said that you go into a visual spasm whenever my name is mentioned."
"Great!" I sarcastically answered, rolling my eyes.
"Don't worry, I think the same," he smirked.
"I'm going to leave now," Andy said, running for the door.
So I was stuck... How fun!
"You're avoiding me, why?" He asked, sitting down.
"I think we just need space, Miguel. You literally said you wanted me to have your children. Like, who does that?"
"I didn't mean it in that sense. I asked what you would do if you ended up pregnant when your amnesia. I literally wasn't meaning for you to bare my children now. I like you, Niamh. Romantically. But, I'm not going to do anything to jeopardise it. You're going through a rough time and you need friends more than anything, so if that's what it's going to take to get near you, then I'm willing to be just friends right now. Until you feel better where you want to further the relationship."
"I keep getting this sense of deja vu every time I talk to you. It's like I've heard it all before."
"In your realistic dream, maybe?"
"Possibly. But, Miguel, I don't know when I'm going to be ready for a relationship. I don't remember much of my time with Joel. I'm beginning to vaguely remember the night he physically hurt me. And that memory itself isn't very pleasing. Every time I deal with a reminder, I'm grimacing in anger for myself."
"I'm not going to hurt you, Niamh. That's a promise."
"It's been a long day, Miguel. It's like 10 at night," I started. "So can we please just talk like normal friends before I even make a decision on how I want to handle things. I've already had two full-on fights, and a mini one with you, so I kind of just want to crawl into bed and forget about everything."
"Two fights? Who with?"
"Blake and an ex-colleague. She was getting her knickers in a twist with how I received the interview with you and no one else in the office did. She just basically wanted to tart herself up to get in your boxers," I jealously spat.
"Is someone jealous?" He smirked, while letting out a small chuckle.
"No..." I said, dragging the 'o' on.
"I think you are," he continued smirking.
"I am not," I stated matter-of-factly.
"Liar," he laughed.
"You have no proof," I smirked, raising a brow.
"Your words are all I need."
"In all seriousness, why are you here? We had a fight less than 3 hours ago, so explain."
"I needed to clear the air. I didn't want you to feel like you had to be that person that gave me children and whatnot. I just needed to clear the whole confusion. Because you kind of walked out on me when I needed to explain. Plus, when I'd finished my meal, you were nowhere to be found, so I went to your house and you weren't there. I then went to Beth's cafe, and you weren't there, but then Andy came in and ordered your usual, so I asked her if you were here, and she said yes. I asked her to come see you, and she agreed."
"So, you heard the whole argument between Claira and I?"
"Yup. I heard most of it, as did Andy."
"Great!" I muttered.
"Don't be so downhearted. I think it was better with Andy hearing the whole thing, especially because Claira did rip into you so badly."
"Still."
"Niamh, the words she said were pretty offensive. Although, your replies were pretty snarky for you."
"What's that meant to mean?"
"It means that I thought your replies were pretty hilarious. Even if they were meant in a derogatory term, they were funny."
"Hilarious," I said, finally switching my computer off.
"I'm being serious," he started as I stood up. "They were funny."
"No, they weren't. They were mean and stupid. I should never have retaliated like that," I said, heading for the door.
"Niamh, if someone is being a bitch to you, you fight back. That's normal," he said, coming up behind me. "If anything, she was being more than a bitch to you."
"Can we talk about this later? I just want to go home, apologise to my brother and crawl into bed and sleep. It's been an exhausting day. My jeans are chaffing me somewhere they shouldn't, and my bra is digging in so tightly that I'm surprised I'm able to still breathe."
"I could take them off for you," he suggested playfully. I smacked him on the chest before turning my light off and closing the door.
I might not be properly there in the head but I can tell when someone is playfully flirting with me. And although he's clearly stated that he's into me romantically, I can sense he's holding a lot back and sticking to the playful banter that's going on between us.
I'll admit, I feel comfortable in Miguel's presence. I feel like we've been friends or lovers for years, when that hasn't been the case. However, the Alissa thing will always come in between us. I read up on him when I was lacking in things to do, and I noticed that he was once with the cow that picked on me constantly.
It won't become a problematic factor between us, unless she decides to come in between us and mess things up. Because then she will really see the bad side to me. I'm not one to be messed with in the best of times. I think everyone just seen that with the argument with Claira.
"Can I offer you a lift home? It's pretty late to be walking around," he asked, once we were at the lobby for the lift to arrive.
"Sure, if you don't mind," I smiled.
"For you, I'll do anything," he spoke coyly.
"Even go naked around Noli?"
"Maybe not that."
"Then you won't do anything for me," I smirked, while letting out a guffaw of a laugh.
"Dang it! I thought you wouldn't have realised that."
"I'm a magazine writer, I notice the small details," I said as we stepped onto the lift.
"If you didn't, that would make you a crap writer. Cause who would want to read something so full of inconsistencies?"
"No one would."
"Exactly."
We were in silence the whole ride down in the lift, and also the car journey back to my house. But now that we're here, at my house, I feel like we're trying to say something but scared to say it for the fear of breaking off the friendship.
My legs had gone numb from where my jeans were chaffing, and it was like they wanted me to stay in place for the time being. I wanted to stay but I knew I had to move from his car, unless he wanted me to become a permanent feature. One that will scare off the ladies in his life.
"Thank you," I started, ending the silence that had fallen between us. "For the ride, I mean," I continued. "Wait! I didn't mean it like that! Oh my gosh, I think my brain needs a rest," I then laughed.
"You're welcome," he said smiling through the small laughs that escaped his lips.
"I'll see you around, Miguel," I said, reaching for the handle of the door.
"Niamh," he started when the passengers door was open.
"Yes?" I questioned.
"Never mind," he said, shaking his head a little. "I'll see you around," he finished.
"Bye."
The car was off just as I'd shut the front door. Blake was straight at the front door, greeting me with a hug. That's twice I've been hugged by my brother.
"I'm fine," I said retreating backwards. "And I'm sorry," I then apologised.
"I knew you would be but it doesn't stop me from worrying," he said, stepping backwards.
"Is this worry over the whole issue with Joel?"
"Yes. When I got that phone call, I was broken, defeated and angry. I didn't know whether you were going to survive or not and it was like a piece of me had been ripped from my soul. It was terrifying to say the least. It was worse when I had to phone Naomi and tell her that her baby sister was in hospital after being beat to an inch of death."
"What did she say?"
"She wanted to come over and kick the bastards arse but with a barb wired baseball bat instead."
"Sounds a lot like our Naomi," I laughed. "But, can we continue this conversation tomorrow? I'm dead beat. I just want to crawl up in bed and sleep for an eternity."
"Go to bed, Niamh. But, remember, tomorrow you have your doctor at half 11."
"When did he phone to schedule the appointment?" I asked, taking off my trainers.
"Earlier when you weren't in. It's okay, I took the message. I'll remind you in the morning, just go on upto bed."
"I'll see you later," I said, walking off.
Once I was in my layer of my bedroom, I quickly pulled my clothes off and threw them in the corner, where the rest of my dirty clothes lay and threw on a pair of pyjamas. But after that, I knew nothing. I was in dreamland.