“Yeah, I think I left a couple things behind,” she says, watching me carefully.
I nod and try not to think of leaving Vlad on the balcony. I close my eyes and I swear I can see him still standing there, the dejected slant of his shoulders, his tail resting against the ground. I opt for sighing something pointless instead. “I...always leave at least one sock under the hotel bed.”
She offers a little laugh and sits down across from me, stretching comfortably in the seat.
“So, tell me what Ted did this time,” I say, hefting their file onto the table, getting out a pen.
“Ted? No, this one’s about Deanna.”
I almost drop my pen. “What?”
Kathy shrugs, and starts combing out the feathers on her arm, shedding little bits of dust and fluff onto the meeting room table. “I thought Deanna was out of line. Put in a complaint about her. Lied a little, for funsies.”
“You can't do that,” I start to say, but she interrupts.
“Well, you weren’t going to,” she says, as if this much is obvious. “I was there, and I don’t know why you just laughed along with her. That was a fucked up thing to say to anyone.”
Honestly, I’m speechless. A little touched, even. But I can’t overlook the fact that she really, really, can’t do that. “That may be, but—”
“Come on, I clearly know my way around a complaint form. Besides, it’s a smack on the wrist. Just to rattle her,” Kathy pleads, before she offers in a hushed tone, “Unless you want me to do more.”
“Kathy, no.”
“I can move all the furniture in her office two inches out of its normal spot. Sabotage her filing system. Sprinkle crumbs in her carpet so she gets ants.”
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m not going to file that.”
“I don’t think you do,” she grumbles, sinking low in her seat. She kicks at the ground and swivels the chair back-and-forth a bit. “What's the point of having friends if I can’t lie for them?"
Rubbing my temples, I lean back in my chair and sigh. I have a feeling if I gave her a little more leeway, she'd start signing Deanna's email up for a bunch of time-sucking webinars and newsletters. She’s done it to Ted plenty of times.
It’s a little hard not to smile though. It’s sweet of her to try. When provoked, she easily starts bringing a certain “we should all walk out” vibe to the workplace that no doubt upper management is a little wary of. With enough momentum, I can imagine her unionizing the Dark Regime.
After a moment, a thought crosses my mind that makes the breath in my chest ache. “Did he put you up to this?”
“Who, Ted?” Kathy glances up and immediately scoffs. “Ted’s an ass. Don’t give him credit for anything, ever.”
I hold back any comment about her being all over that particular ass just last week, and simply shake my head. “Never mind. Um. How do you like having a new boss?”
“He's ok,” she shrugs, continuing to sprawl out of the swivel chair. “It's nice to have a boss that cares. I don’t love it though, because I feel bad about procrastinating, and I’m not about that.”
I nod, and we lapse into silence. She nods as well, feeling the quiet a little too intently.
“How’s work, otherwise?” I ask, with no real intent to listen.
It pinches in my chest to think about Vlad, to want to pry for more information. But doing so would unearth everything we had put away when the trip was over. I shouldn’t linger over Vlad’s words, the way he believed in a better version of me than really existed. The way he wanted me to believe in that version, even after I’d rejected his feelings.
I couldn’t have ever accepted them, as much as I wanted to. I did the right thing. He would have learned sooner or later how I didn’t live up to his expectations, and breaking my heart then would have just hurt all the more for it.
But somehow, I hated the thought of pushing him away more.
“So, Miguel’s taking a longer leave, and we’re down a person on the next big tradeshow,” Kathy is rambling when I remember to nod along. “On top of that, there’s extra badges, but the event coordinators won’t refund it. And now Vlad is trying to see if we can get some of our people to go, and they can at least make it seem like people are interested in visiting our tradeshow booth. But this soon after the last big work trip, I don’t think we’re gonna get any volunteers before tomorrow—”
“I’ll go,” falls out of my mouth before I truly process the words.
Kathy blinks at me, clearly expecting some other kind of response. Usually, I’m reliable for bemoaning the day-to-day trivialities of the job.
I swallow, and nod again. “If you need someone to show up, I’ll be there. Just forward me the details, ok?”
