Queenie(54)
“Okay. So, what do I need to do?” I asked.
“One. Those pitches you’re sending me. They’re not tight enough, and not topical enough. Words and thoughts everywhere, and not enough hard fact. What I want you to do is give me something long-form that I can show the magazine writers. You’re better at telling a story than you are at fast reporting, so let’s see if we can get your soft activism in the mag with that.”
I nodded quickly.
“Two. Chuck is in Boston with his family until the end of this week, and when he’s back on Monday, you’re in charge of him. Of his tasks, of his time sheets, and of his development. I want you to give him an ongoing project. You’ll feed his progress to me every month. Understood?”
“Er. Yes? I can do that? Yes.”
* * *
I went back to my desk and e-mailed Ted, out of both curiosity and sexual frustration.
On Wednesday, 2nd January, Jenkins, Queenie <[email protected]> wrote at 17:13:
Are you back at work? I haven’t seen you around. Anyway, hope all is well. You’re unusually quiet.
* * *
A week later, when I still hadn’t heard from him, I went up to his floor. His mixed signals were playing on my mind and I needed some sort of answer. The uncertainty was taking up too much of my brain space. Plus, if he didn’t want to continue things, it would be very embarrassing to see him around the office without at least speaking about it and making some sort of privacy pact. I did some Mission: Impossible–type moving around the sports section, only stopping to look quizzically at a whiteboard that appeared to have some sort of thinly veiled staff sex conquest and ratings system scribbled onto it. When I pulled myself away from it and kept moving, I saw him in the kitchen. I looked around and, seeing nobody near us, went in.
“Hello, stranger,” I said. Ted jumped out of his skin and dropped his mug on the floor.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he whispered, moving me out of the way so that he could look out the door. He closed it and began to pick up shards of broken china. “Why are you up here, Queenie?”
“Why are you so annoyed? I’ve only come up to say hello,” I said, heat flooding my face the way it did when he said something to catch me off guard. At least I was used to it by now. The machinations of a secret office relationship had been tiresome and confusing. So many people that shouldn’t see, so many hands that shouldn’t touch, secret kisses in the lifts, so many coded conversations.
“Yes, but people will talk. Don’t be so stupid,” Ted said. He wouldn’t look at me.
“No, they won’t, Ted!” I said, my voice catching in my throat. “We work together. You weren’t saying this at the Christmas party when you couldn’t let go of me. Or whenever you’ve shown up at my desk.”
He didn’t reply. I felt like an idiot. “Ted, what’s going on? Have I done something wrong?”
“No,” he snapped. “But, look, I’ve got lots of family stuff going on, so I can’t really do this. We’ll chat another time, yeah?” He still wouldn’t look at me.
“It’s fine, we don’t have to chat,” I hit back. “I only wanted to say that I spoke to my boyfriend and we’re going to get back together,” I lied. Ted wasn’t going to make me look like a fool. My stomach tightened as I watched him drop the collected pieces of china into the trash bin and walk to the door.
“That’s good for you,” he said, leaving the kitchen.
THE CORGIS
Queenie
I know that I always say I feel bad, but I feel SO bad
Kyazike
What’s happened now?
Queenie
I just went to see Tweed Glasses to figure out why he was airing me, I thought he was off sick or something, but he was standing in the kitchen, fine as anything, and told me he had family stuff and that he’d chat to me “another time”!
Queenie
He wouldn’t even look me in the EYE
Darcy
What does airing mean?
Kyazike
Like blanking. If you give someone air, you give them nothing. Does that make sense?
Cassandra
Well, yeah? What did you think would happen? You gave him what he wanted.
Kyazike
@Darcy, you should go on a site called Urban Dictionary if you need to know what certain terms mean
Darcy
Thanks, @Kyazike
Queenie
Please can someone take this seriously
Kyazike
Queenie, we all told you about work romance. Not worth it. Take the L and go
Darcy
Okay, so, I’ve just looked that up: “Take the L: Stands for ‘Take the loss.’ Frequently used to describe flunking a test, being dumped, being stood up, being beaten up or robbed, or losing one’s money in the stock market, gambling, or through exploitative business schemes”
Kyazike
There you go
Queenie
GUYS
* * *
I left the office, my two new friends, shame and rejection, binding together before swelling in my stomach, filling my torso. I got the bus to Brixton and sat with my head against the window before I heard the internal voice of my grandmother asking how many dirty heads had been there before mine.