‘It’s just a Teams call,’ I say. What is it with the older generation being so fearful of technology, even after the pandemic? Further proof that whoever is calling him is doing so from home.
He waves a hand at me, towards the door. ‘Thank you.’
‘But, Clive?—’
‘Hello?’ Clive shouts. ‘Hello,canyou hear me?’
‘You’re on mute,’ a voice I don’t recognise says as Clive waves me out of the room. It takes a lot of grace to slip off a bike, and as the hem of my trousers gets caught in the pedal and my sleeve catches the break lever, it’s a miracle I don’t cuss out loud. Successfully disengaged from the bike, I retreat from the office.
Jesus, Clive.
Clive’s office door shuts with a snap behind me. Thankfully, my food is still in the kitchen. I grab a coffee before racing to my own office, or to use its proper name, a small square box room down the hall. I slump at my table, leaning over the animations I’ve been drawing in secret, because my first love hasn’t diedwith my ambition. A children’s story about the spider that hangs in the window of my office.
‘What do you think I should do, Willow?’
When I first moved into this office space fresh from graduation, there was a spider, who scared me, but over time I’ve come to appreciate her: she’s quiet, doesn’t demand I work overtime without pay and all in all is a very nice colleague.
My favourite here.
Of course, I don’t believe this is the same spider from all those years ago, but if she is, maybe I’ve got a scientific miracle on my hands and I could sell her for studies. I don’t know the lifespan of a spider and I don’t particularly want to find out. I don’t think I could handle it.
But maybe her time has come because Willow remains motionless. I can’t lose Willow, too.
The sun shines through the small, dusty window, highlighting her many eyes.
I chose the name Willow because I’m Will, and she’s Willow.
Also, I’m obsessed with Willow fromBuffy.
I’m halfway through an illustration of Willow on a heist of the crown jewels. I like to think that telepathically she’s telling me her life story before she kicks the bucket. For her, this is her autobiography. Our little secret. The world will see it as fiction.
If the world ever sees it.
Willow is cute and approachable in my illustrations.
It could change the PR for spiders around the world.
I haven’t told Willow yet that this story of ours will never see the light of day. It would upset her. She might eat me like a juicy fly.
‘So, Willow, I might be losing my job. Did you know about this?’
Her leg twitches.
‘I suppose that might be the kick up the arse I need.’
She doesn’t respond, though I can almost hear her say ‘you’re too comfortable, Will. Too set in your ways.’
‘But I don’t know what that means for us.’
The wisp of her web glints in the sunlight.
‘And then, did I tell you? Ollie is engaged. If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you.’
Ollie’s Instagram loads on my phone, and I read the comments underneath his engagement announcement. I know I shouldn’t look, but I’m addicted.
‘Oh, look at this one, Willow.’ People I once knew congratulate him. The coffee I sip tastes like regret.
Even now, when I think I should have said yes and put my own concerns aside, my stomach churns.
