Chapter 4
Kasie: Undelivered
‘Morning,’ I say brightly.
‘Your hours.’ He taps his watch. ‘Not healthy.’
‘Are you growing a beard?’ I ask, while breezing past him. ‘You’ll look hot with a beard.’
There’s no shortage of people assessing my life choices, but the dripping judgement about my long working hours from Jax, who tells anyone who’ll listen his ambition to own a drop-shipping company, is something I could do without.
When Nicole finally rocks up, almost two hours later, I lie and tell her I just got in. The day passes quickly, thankfully, then as it nears five, I receive several messages in rapid fire.
Ikenna: Zoe. Hi.
Ikenna: How are you?
Ikenna: I’ve been thinking about you.
I’ve been waiting for this.
Me: Hey.
Ikenna: How have you been?
Me: All good. You?
Ikenna: All good.
The conversation is as sparkling as always.
‘I forgot to ask last week,’ Nicole says, ‘how was Cian?’
‘Cian?’ I put my phone face down. ‘Yeah. He was good.’
She picks up her keyboard and tips it upside down. ‘After you left, I remembered I still had his bike pump. I’ve had it for ages. Do you ever do this? The number of crumbs that come out is disturbing.’
‘How did you end up with the network engineer’s bike pump?’
‘Remember when I fell for that cycle-to-work scheme? What a disaster. I’m going to be paying off that bike forever.
’ The keyboard clatters back to the desk.
‘Cian fixed my bike the last time I used it. We’ve known each other for ages, though.
How come you never met him before? Or at least, heard him – he’s so loud.
’ She snorts and adds, ‘He also used to be in the employee well-being group with me and Danni. He got thrown off because he was always falling asleep in the meetings.’
The idea of Cian falling asleep in meetings, particularly well-being ones, delights me.
‘Hon, do you realise you can change the settings on your phone so the whole world doesn’t need to hear when you get a text?’
I grab it and fiddle with the volume button. ‘It’s Ikenna.’
‘What does he want?’
‘Wants to know how I’m doing.’
Nicole pants in that absurd way she does when Jimmy asks her to work late. ‘Tell him you’re fine and move on.’
‘Don’t you think I owe him something?’
‘I’m not one to give advice,’ Nicole says as she sweeps the dust off her desk. ‘Though, the more you give him, the more he thinks you need him.’
‘You think so?’
‘I know so,’ she says.
This whole Ikenna situation is so unnecessary. Why can’t we silently agree to never message each other again? Surely, he can see this isn’t something worth keeping up.
Ikenna: We should go for a drink.
Ikenna: Catch up.
Ikenna: Talk.
No, I really don’t want that. Because that sounds like the most pointless drink ever.
Me: Yeah. Sounds great.
I grit my teeth in a way that’s one day going to cost me thousands in dental treatments. As long as he doesn’t try to pin down a date, it’s okay.
Ikenna: Next Friday work for you?
Ikenna and I have never been a couple. We’ve been ‘loose friends’ at best, the kind of people who hung out in group situations and always ended up together after a night out.
I must admit, having a ‘relationship’ with someone like Ikenna, someone so distractingly sexy, was perfect for me. Until it wasn’t.
That’s a bit unfair. It wasn’t only about sex.
Ikenna’s also a nice guy, kind and caring.
But the thing about nice, kind, caring guys is, if you cry on their shoulder, they will take it upon themselves to look after you.
Also, I did a lot more than cry on his shoulder.
I completely broke down and he saw it all.
There’s no way back after exposing yourself like that.
Another two messages come through, and while it’s petty, his inability to send everything in a single message is one of the most irritating things about him.
Above me, flags flutter from the office ceiling, the Union Jack, la Rojigualda, il Tricolore, a Bandeira Verde-Rubra. I close my eyes and try to think of three things I’m grateful for. I can only come up with one: air conditioning.
When I flick my eyes open, Nicole is walking back. She’s put in big green plastic earrings and freshened her lipstick, pink to match her hair. ‘Are you going somewhere?’ I ask.
‘I told you, I don’t have the kids tonight, so I’m going out for a few drinks.’
‘Who with?’
‘Billy and Taron. Fancy it?’
‘Billy? The office sex pest?’
Nicole pulls a bottle of perfume from her bag and spritzes herself. ‘He only hits on interns. Usually, I would pressure you to come out with us, but right now I’m going to pressure you to go home.’
‘I’m going soon,’ I promise, knowing she won’t leave until she has believable assurance. ‘I just want to finish off a few bits.’
‘You won’t catch up if you burn yourself out.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You look tired,’ she says.
‘If I had a pound for every time someone said that—’
‘—you’d have enough for a facelift,’ Nicole finishes off. She pushes the sides of her face back, stretching her skin free of its many stress lines.
‘I am tired,’ I admit. ‘But it’s Friday and I’m going to sleep most of the weekend. I’m going to stay in my bed, order food, not get dressed.’
She raises a palm. ‘Enough of this smug child-free bragging.’
I grin at her. ‘You love it.’
‘What else am I going to do? I’ve had them now, can’t put them back.’ She comes to my side and motions at the screen. ‘I need to see you switch it off.’
‘You’re serious?’
‘Shut it down or I’ll make you come for Aperol Spritzes with us.’
‘I hate Aperol Spritzes.’
‘Everyone hates Aperol Spritzes, but it’s summer.’
I switch off my computer and throw up some half-hearted jazz hands.
‘Zo?’
‘Danni advised me to think of three things I’m grateful for when I start to feel, you know.’
Nicole sits on the desk and stares down at me. ‘Does it work?’
‘Sometimes I struggle to think of three.’
‘When’s your brother back?’ she asks.
‘Tomorrow.’
She looks relieved, and I guess I am too. It’s felt extra quiet in the flat this week. ‘Really, Nicole. I’m good. Don’t worry.’
She stands up but keeps her eyes on me. ‘Call me if you need.’
‘I will. Have fun tonight.’
After she leaves, I sit for a while and watch as the office empties, half considering switching my computer back on.
No. I should go home. Go home to sit alone and wonder why my Dr. Oetker pizzas always come out so watery and unsatisfactory.
God, that’s depressing. Maybe I should have gone for Aperols after all. My phone beeps with a message.
Cian: Hi. Embarrassing. Can I ask you another favour?
Me: Sure
Cian: I left my spare glasses at work. Lost my main pair and am getting headaches.
Me: Maybe your choice of reading is giving you the headaches.
Cian: Just read a great one on the rise of the far right in Europe. You’re welcome to borrow.
There’s no witty comeback for this, so I keep it practical with:
Me: Where are your glasses? I’ll find and drop off.
Cian: You’re very keen. Are you looking for an excuse to visit Network?
Me: Yes. I heard Network is where all the hot men hang out.
Why did I say that? No wonder he’s not replying. I swing around on my chair and pass my phone between my hands.
Me: I’m about to leave the office. Where are glasses?
His name flashes across my screen and as much as I like to call, no one ever calls me.
‘Hi,’ I say, neutral.
‘Nana?’ he says slowly then breaks into a laugh. ‘I was getting bored of texting so thought I’d try things your way.’
‘Is this a booty call?’ I ask, because I can’t help myself.
He huffs, unimpressed. ‘Do you like embarrassing people?’
‘Myself mainly, yes.’
‘What are you doing in the office at this time on a Friday?’
I kick under the desk to find my Crocs. ‘Sometimes I’m having so much fun here I hardly want to go home.’
‘What do you mean fun? Work isn’t fun.’
‘Well, no, what you do doesn’t sound fun.’
I’m not entirely sure what a cloud network infrastructure engineer does. I assume it’s incomprehensible and well paid.
‘If your work is so fun,’ he says, ‘why are you always frowning when I look at you?’
‘One, stop looking at me and two, it’s not a frown, it’s a puzzled face.’
He laughs again. I could happily chase laughs from him all evening. ‘You don’t like work?’ I ask.
‘I like that part at the end of each month when I get paid, yes. I could do without the long hours and stress of things constantly going wrong. Zoe?’
In person he felt slightly standoffish, yet on the phone he’s almost over-familiar. ‘Do you know where Network is?’
‘Of course I know where Network is.’ Because since he said that thing about being in his eyeline I’ve located the one empty desk in mine. I head up to the mezzanine. ‘How long have you worked here?’
‘Two years,’ he says without emotion. ‘We used to be based on the top floor. Did Jimmy ask after me?’
‘Yes. I told him you were faking it.’ At Cian’s desk I slide into his chair where there is indeed a direct view of my own.
‘I think my glasses are in one of the drawers.’ His voice is the only sound and it’s oddly intimate, making me lose focus as I root around amongst the charging cables, plastic cutlery and multipacks of energy bars and chocolate. ‘Can I have a KitKat?’
‘No.’
‘What is all this? You climb mountains for fun, why are you eating so much sugar?’
‘I work in a high-pressure environment. Who told you I climb mountains?’
‘Er, your shattered bones.’
‘It wasn’t a mountain. It was one of those climbing walls.’
‘Don’t small children have birthday parties at those places.’
‘It’s quite high risk, actually,’ he says primly.
‘What happened?’
‘I missed my step, and my knee came down against a climbing hold. It broke into three and one of the pieces—’ I hold the phone away from my ear while I gag. ‘Please stop, I’m squeamish.’
‘I was about to tell you how one piece of bone almost went through my—’
‘I will hang up on you. Your glasses are in an empty Ryvita box.’
‘Perfect place for glasses,’ he says. ‘I only started wearing them four months ago.’
I try on the thick-lens tortoiseshell glasses. They’re very widely set and don’t stay on my face without being held. ‘Four months ago, yet you’re so blind. No wonder you fell off a climbing wall.’
‘I didn’t fall off—’
‘And you have a massive head,’ I laugh.
‘Okay, Muttley,’ he says, raising his voice.
‘Muttley?’ Where did he get that one from? ‘That’s a very old-school reference.’
He drops his voice and admits, ‘I watched a lot of Hanna-Barbera growing up.’
‘Me too, my dad was obsessed.’
‘Yeah?’ he says brightly. ‘Mine too. Anyway.’
‘Anyway,’ I agree, slightly taken aback. I grab a KitKat and slam the drawers shut. ‘I’m leaving now, be over in an hour.’