5
Lennon
“So,”saysAnna,eyesdancing with excitement. “What do we think? Do we love the idea, or what?”
“A team-building event?” I ask numbly.
It’s the third or fourth time I’ve said it, and so far, no one has confirmed or denied that my understanding of what Anna is proposing is sound. I look around on the off chance I’ve misunderstood what she’s suggesting. We’re huddled around a round table in the small breakout room, having our weekly team meeting. Usually, our team meeting is a fairly tolerable event. It mainly consists of us talking shit and having coffee and cake. We take turns bringing the cake in. There’s a roster and everything. It’s usually not too bad.
Why in God’s name would Anna do this to us?
Why would she do it to herself?
“Here’s what I’m thinking”—Anna squeezes her lips together to suppress her delight. She holds her hands up near her head and wriggles her fingers—“bowling.”
She says it as though it’s a word she’s invented. A brand-new concept never conceived of by anyone else in the past.
I look around the room helplessly. Across the table from me, Blake has gone a pale shade of green. There’s a fine sheen of perspiration on his forehead and a faraway look in his eyes that leads me to suspect he’s daydreaming of murder.
Bev’s mouth is a straight line and she’s blinking slowly. She’s not happy with Anna. Not by a long shot, but she’s also not shutting this shit down as fast as she should be.
I use every ounce of my energy to establish a telepathic link with her.
You can stop this, Bev. Youhave all the power here.You’re the boss, you can do it.Fire her. Do it now. I’ll pack her shit and walk her out of the building, no questions asked.
“Well,” says Bev, dragging the word out, “I guess we do have a line in the budget for it.”
Across from me, Blake’s eyes slide shut and he places both hands on the table to keep himself upright.
“Ohmigod,” squeals Anna. “Thanks, Bev! I’ll start planning right away. I mean, unless someone else wants to form a committee with me? I’d besuperopen to that.” No one moves or reacts. “Perfect! I’ll handle everything myself. I’ll create a new group chat to keep you informed.”But, but, we already have seven team group chats,I think but don’t say.Seven. I counted last week. “I’m thinking Friday or Saturday night, so if we’re hungover, we have the next day to recover. What do you think?”
No one replies for a long time, and eventually, Blake whimpers, “Please not the weekend.”
It’s eleven fifteen by the time Blake and I have successfully thwarted Anna’s direct threat on the only two days of the week we have away from this hellhole. Eleven fifteen, on Tuesday. I’m in such a state of incredulity about the shit show my life has turned into, I almost forget that I’m supposed to be at Crema.
Almost. Not quite.
As soon as I’m back at my desk, and the initial shock of the team-building event has worn off, awareness of the time and day of the week begins to assault me. Soft blows at first. Light jabs to my kidneys, then harder ones to my ribs. My heart reacts like it always does when I know where he is and I’m not there. It squeezes and clenches. Beating too hard and too fast for me to ignore.
“Need some fresh air,” I say, pushing my chair back.
I take the stairs out of the building two at a time. I mean to slow to a normal-adjacent pace when I get to the gables, but I don’t. I can’t. My limbs move without my consent. Arms and legs pumping so hard that the sound of my feet hitting the stone path makes bystanders leap out of my way.
Crema is an eight-minute walk from the student services building. I make it in three.
I get there, breathless and wheezing, in time to see the flick of an auburn ponytail as it disappears behind a conifer hedge to the left of the coffee shop.
Fuck!
I’m late.
Too late.
My heart drops, sinking like a stone. A hard, heavy stone that leaves me winded.
I’ve missed him.
I open the door to Crema anyway and spin around once inside, searching the tables he usually sits at for a forgettable face. A too-big shirt. A too-big smile. Anything. Any sign of him.
