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Being back at work was harder than Mel had bargained for. Although she’d assumed the reason for her absence would be confidential, it was evident that people knew she’d been signed off with stress. She put that down to Donna, the HR manager, who had held a grudge ever since Mel had pushed to introduce diversity quotas on recruitment. Donna thought appointments should be “on merit”. As a black woman, Mel knew “merit” was highly subjective, and a panel of university-educated, white, middle class, middle-aged people couldn’t see the inbuilt prejudices (or assumptions, if she were feeling kind) they brought to the table. People inherently responded better to people that looked and sounded like themselves, however liberal they professed to be. Sometimes change can be too slow, you needed to give it a kick up the arse. Speaking of which, she’d happily oblige those insipid faces that kept asking her “are you sure you’re alright” with a swift boot up the jacksy.
Thankfully, her no-nonsense boss, Marjorie, had slapped her hard on the back in welcome and said no more about it. Scott was keeping his distance; he knew her better than anybody here and could probably sense her exasperation from across the open plan office. Her team appeared to have managed worryingly well without her. Suzy, her number two, looked positively annoyed at her return: she’d obviously enjoyed her little bit of power. If Mel had her way, Suzy might get her shot at promotion sooner than she expected. Getting a new job was now her first priority - well, second, after making up with Sally.
Mel understood her friend was a very important person now, PPS to the PM and all that, but surely she could answer her own bloody phone? Mel kept getting her assistant and refused to leave a message. In the end she’d been sneaky and made an appointment at her next constituency surgery, that way Sally would have to see her. She’d asked for the last slot, hoping that if it went well, she could persuade her to come out for a drink. That was tomorrow night, so with that task completed she could spend the weekend focussed on job hunting.
Mel looked at the clock on her computer - 11.23. She saw Scott was at his desk and headed over. ‘Fancy a coffee?’
Scott clicked on his calendar. ‘Sure, I’ve got nothing now till after lunch. In the break room, or outside?’
‘Outside, definitely. I’ll grab my bag and meet you by the entrance.’
*****
‘Go on, ask me?’ Mel had to lean sideways on the overly plush leather loveseat to place her skinny latte on the ridiculously low coffee table. Whoever selected the furniture for these posh coffee bars had obviously not tried to use it in real life.
‘I wouldn’t dare.’ Scott licked the remains of a Danish pastry off his fingers.
‘I promise I won’t bite your head off.’
‘OK... how are you?’
Mel realised she was willing to be more honest with Scott than she had been with Evan. Sometimes it is harder to share the truth with really good friends, precisely because you know they will worry too much and feel compelled to help. Sometimes all you needed was an ear. ‘I’m frustrated, is the straight answer.’
‘With work?’
‘Everything. I mean, I’m not feeling like I can’t get out of bed in the morning, not anymore, but nothing in my life is good right now. Not one thing.’ Mel was glad to finally say it out loud. ‘I know everyone wants me to be OK, to suck it up, be the tough Mel they’re used to, but I’m struggling to be that. I’m doing my best, but I’m worried the little strength I have left that is helping me keep my shit together is going to evaporate, and the roof is going to cave in.’ She sucked in air in an effort to hold back from sobbing.
Scott put his mug down and stood up. He edged round the ridiculous coffee table and sat down on the loveseat next to Mel. He put an arm around her and pulled her into him.
At first Mel resisted, but she hadn’t lied, her fortitude was paper thin and gave way in seconds. She folded into him and buried her face in his chest. She let him hold her while she cried: soft tears, so as not to make a scene, glad to be sat in the furthest corner of the room. When the sadness had subsided enough, she pulled free, grabbed a napkin from the table and wiped her tears away.
Scott got up again and returned to his seat. He drank his coffee and looked at her with a face full of kindness. ‘What do you need me to do?’
That was such a great question - giving her the power. ‘Nothing, there’s nothing you can do.’
‘I know I can’t wave a magic wand, but you know you don’t have to go through this alone?’
Mel nodded. ‘You are such a decent guy. Evan is lucky to have you.’
Now Scott looked embarrassed.
‘No, I mean it. I was awful to you, the night of your wedding. Caused a massive scene and told you to “eff off”, and you’ve not once asked me for an explanation or an apology. I had to say sorry to Evan, to Carl, I’m trying to apologise to Sally, but you didn’t even give me a filthy look.’
Scott shrugged. ‘I figured you had punished yourself enough, you didn’t need me to make you feel any worse. Everybody does stupid stuff from time-to-time, it’s human nature. We deserve to be forgiven if we’re sorry for what we’ve done.’
‘I know it’s a lot to ask, but can you not mention this to Evan? He will want to stage an intervention, or try and force me to cheer up and that won’t help right now.’
‘Of course, I understand. On one condition. If you need someone to talk to, you call me. Day or night.’
Mel paused. ‘Are you sure you want to be my therapist?’
‘No, but I know I want to be your friend.’