Time flies when you stop scratching off the days on your work calendar.
I got home from another exhausting day of avoiding Wendy. It occurred to me that we were getting to the point of needing to discuss matters with Human Resources. But then I realised how unlikely it was, that she was the one harassing me. I’d rolled the idea around, and given up on it, several times over. Opting instead to duck into empty cubicles and follow people to the drinks dispenser to avoid one-to-one conversations. But there was still the matter of her authors, which required meetings – in Wendy’s office.
‘She’s taken a real shine to you,’ Fred said while I was filling my coffee cup.
‘Wendy?’
‘Come on, like you haven’t noticed. Don’t be dog about it.’ He nudged my arm.
‘Wendy can do better than me.’
‘Hey, don’t put yourself down, man, you’re a catch.’ He leaned heavy on the word ‘man’ so I knew this was a friendly compliment rather than an attempt at flirting. ‘You’re not into her, though, right?’ I hesitated too long on my answer and he leapt on it. ‘Oh, oh, I get it. You’re not that way inclined?’
I moved away from the coffee machine. ‘I guess she’s just not my type, no.’
‘To each his own, to each his own,’ he said, jabbing buttons.
It had been a long day. But I rested my head back on the wall behind the sofa and tilted my view towards the window – and I watched. For the first time in what felt like days, I concentrated only on my breathing, and on waiting for the change of light in Caleb’s living room to show he’d finally come home. It must be a late finish, I reasoned. The longer I waited, though, the less I wanted to move for fear that I might miss the coming home altogether; the loosening of the tie and the heavy thud of him landing on the sofa, still in his work clothes. When the sky darkened, I stood up to get my phone, to check on him as best as I could, but then the overhead light snapped on in the living room opposite. Enter Caleb – with Tuesday.
I hadn’t even realised the day until I saw them together.
Neither of them were carrying food containers, though, and I wondered whether they’d been out for dinner – whether that might account for the lateness. That would, of course, also mean that Caleb had taken her out into the real live world of eateries and being seen in public. But what about The Redhead?
I watched as their usual routine rolled into Caleb’s usual routine. Tuesday started to loosen his tie long before either of them made it to the sofa. Caleb reached his own buttons and it looked like she stopped him. I wondered whether she enjoyed this act of undressing more, the intimacy of having come from work together. It must have been a special moment for them.
I hadn’t eaten since lunchtime and the growl from my gut told me that I needed to. But I couldn’t tear myself away for fear of missing something more than I’d already missed. The most I managed was to feel through my bag for my mobile phone, and I thumbed to Caleb’s Twitter profile. Stealing glances between reading tweets and watching fabric stripped from skins, I saw that he’d been out for dinner, and with someone: ‘Looking forward to a meal out with @louisesoumedia later tonight. Bring on the burgers @classiccarter’. Caleb had name-dropped so many restaurants in the time I’d known him that I wondered whether he was enrolled in a sponsorship programme with local businesses; he was attractive enough. Louise Sou Media was a new name to me, though, so I clicked into the attached profile – and there she was, Tuesday.
They hadn’t even made it to the sofa, instead opting for the closest wall and I looked from profile to real-life image and back again. She looked different without her clothes on, but I supposed most people did. Louise Sou Thackerey was a freelance media consultant who earlier that day tweeted: ‘Can’t wait to fill my face with @calebcanteachya later tonight! Gimme burgers boy!’ I looked from profile to real-life and back again and wondered whether ‘fill my face’ had been a euphemism. Neither of their tweets looked romantic, though, which seemed strange given the displays I’d seen at home.
I watched them for a minute, to check Tuesday was still pinned in place. From their speed it didn’t look like they were going anywhere. This was their version of tender, I guessed, from how I’d seen them behave before. And while I tried to be pleased at their advancing relationship, there was something bitter in my stomach – as well as a growing hunger.
Tuesday’s tweets had three replies attached, public to view, while Caleb’s had none. I carefully clicked for the answers to unfold, mindful not to give her an accidental ‘like’ while I was at it. One reply was from Caleb – ‘Get in my beeeeeelly’ – but another reply – ‘Hope you two have the best time babes’ – was from a face I recognised. Tuesday had replied to this one – ‘Thanks honey bee. Drinks soon?’ But The Redhead hadn’t answered that one.
I clicked out of Twitter and threw my phone back on the sofa. They were nearly finished, and I liked to watch the end. But that safe distance was for the best, I decided. Because for all my watching, there were things about Caleb I was only just starting to see.