Em
Going back to work after the Christmas holidays was a big transition. I’d spent so much time with Ian that it felt like half of me was missing. It wasn’t only the amazing sex—he also made me feel relaxed and happy. But I had our Friday night date to look forward to.
“It feels like years since we’ve been here,” I said to Ken Lederer, who worked in the cubicle next to mine. He was my best friend at work.
“Yeah. It’s embarrassing, but my family drives me so crazy that I couldn’t wait to get back to work,” Ken said.
“Oh no, really? What happened?” Ken’s family lived in Calgary, so he was basically stuck once he got out there.
“My mother invited Elinor over for Boxing Day brunch.” Elinor was Ken’s high school sweetheart and ex-wife. Their divorce was amicable, but Ken didn’t want to keep seeing her. One of the reasons he transferred to Ottawa was to get a fresh start. Yet his parents clung to the idea that they would reconcile.
Ken and I first bonded over our mutual love of various behavioural economists and now because of the work other people tried to unload on us. We were both too dependable.
He leaned against the wall by my doorway. “I’ve been waiting to hear how your whole trick-the-parents scam went. How horrible was that hoser guy?”
Yes, that hoser guy I was currently dating. This was going to be awkward. “Well, as it turns out…” I began.
“You two already slacking off?” Cody Langdon appeared in the doorway of my cubicle. This question was riddled with irony since Cody was the laziest guy in our department. He walked right in and sat on my desk. “How was everyone’s holiday?”
He casually leaned towards me, but I knew exactly what he was trying to do: look down my blouse. Cody was a loser on so many counts: a kiss-ass, a credit-hogger, and a braggart. But the worst part was his low-level sexual harassment. He never did anything that I could report to human resources, but I hated being alone with him. He was always making suggestive comments or “accidentally” rubbing up against me. His favourite move was the surreptitious breast nudge.
Ken also hated Cody because he was always trying to fob work onto us. Our mutual goal was always to get rid of him whenever he dropped by. Ken assumed an icily polite voice. “Our holidays were great. What about yours?”
Cody’s smile was a leer. “Oh, you know. No rest for the wicked. New Year’s Eve was lit.”
In a properly run world, people would spontaneously combust when using slang that was far too young for them. Unfortunately, this was not that world.
“How ’bout you, Em? Did you have a smoking New Year’s?”
Knowing how “smoking” my New Year’s Eve actually was would have blown the few circuits in Cody’s brain.
“It was fine,” I said. Then I made a show of setting up my laptop and getting ready to work. After a few more pointless brags, Cody finally left. We could hear him blah-blah-blah-ing to someone else.
“I guess his New Year’s resolution wasn’t to work harder,” Ken muttered as he settled into his cubicle.
I opened up my planner to see what I had scheduled for this week. I loved my work, which was around stock market regulation. In fact, after a confusing holiday it was nice to get into some lovely theoretical work. When I made market projections, I got to control all the variables.
There was a knock on my wall. “Hey, Em. How are you?” Marc Daignault said.
I emerged from the world of derivatives. “I’m good. Did you have a nice holiday?”
“Pas mal. Hey, you know that Aisha is leaving in February, right?”
I nodded. Aisha Fadel was taking on a new job in Brussels.
“Could you organize her going-away event? You’re so talented at that kind of thing.”
I pulled out my planner. “Oh, sure. What date were you thinking?”
“How about February 9th? That’s a week before she leaves.”
I wrote down the date. “How many people do we think will attend?”
Marc considered this. “Maybe 40? It’s a Friday, so people will be more likely to drop by. And she’ll want her boyfriend to be there, so we’ll invite spouses too.”
“I’m thinking we’ll get a private room at a restaurant or something like that.” Aisha didn’t drink, so meeting at a bar wasn’t the best idea.
“Parfait.”
“Do we have a budget?” I asked.
“Yeah, we do. I’ll forward Roman’s email to you.” Roman was Aisha’s and Marc’s supervisor.
“Wait. Roman asked you to organize this, didn’t he?” I said.
“Em, have I told you lately how awesome you are? Merci, ma cherie.” Marc blew me a kiss and snuck away.
“You owe me,” I called after him. The difference between the flirtatious Marc and the disgusting Cody was intention. Marc couldn’t stop charming women. But he had a girlfriend and would never really come on to me. Whereas Cody meant every disgusting innuendo.
Ken’s disembodied voice came over our shared partition. “Don’t complain to me that you have to do all the social events when you let Marc sucker you in like that.”
“I know.” But I enjoyed organizing things like this. I liked Aisha and I wanted her to have a good send-off, not a last-minute get-together in the closest bar. We’d have food and a nice gift, something she could use in Europe.
“If I ever get a party, I’ll expect you to organize something fabulous,” I told Ken. In retrospect, maybe I organized these celebrations with the hopes that my event would be next. I’d envisioned myself getting married and enjoying everything that led up to that big event. But I’d been to countless showers, stagettes, and weddings, and my personal milestones were no closer.
In a way, it was a relief to be going out with Ian. I could relax with him because there wasn’t a future.
“Morning, Em.” It was Joe, who distributed the mail here. He handed me everything that had accumulated during the holidays. Business periodicals, annual reports I’d requested, and a few letters. Mostly junk mail, but one creamy envelope with an embossed seal caught my eye. I slid my letter opener inside and cut it open.
Congratulations, Emerald Davis. Your joint paper on Risk Aversion, Investment Decision Making, and Sex has been selected as a finalist for the Maclean Medal. We hope you and a guest will be able to attend the awards ceremony on March 29th at the Chateau Laurier Hotel.
I leaped up and waved the invitation at Ken. “I’m a finalist for the Maclean Medal.”
He high-fived me and read the invitation. “Is it that paper you co-authored with Donna Calvin?”
I nodded. Donna did a Masters internship here last year. Students loved working in our area because we knew so much about capital markets. After graduating, they could parlay experience here into a high-paying Bay Street job. Maybe even Wall Street. I got investment bank offers regularly.
But Donna had been different. She was as nerdy as I was about melding behavioural economics to projections on how markets would behave. She also worked her butt off, so we’d completed this complex paper in the six months she was here.
I sent her an excited message and asked if she’d be able to attend the luncheon. The Maclean Medal recognized accomplishments by women economists, and my boss, Sergei Smith, had suggested we submit our paper. He was so supportive and one of the many reasons I loved working here.
Ken handed the invitation back to me. “Who are you taking to the luncheon?”
“Are you batting your eyelashes at me?” I asked.
“Sure. You know I love a free lunch,” he joked. “Oh, are you going to invite that new guy you’re dating? The one from Treasury Board?”
“Shhhh,” I said. I hated having people around here know about my social life, especially how unsuccessful it was. It was so much easier when I was practically married to Lucas.
“I broke up with him,” I whispered to Ken.
He made a shocked face. Nobody loved gossip more than Ken. Luckily, he was an information hoarder and seldom spilled secrets.
I touched the raised letters of the invitation. Well, I knew I couldn’t invite Ian. He was the last person I’d think of when the words economics awards luncheon came to mind. In fact, I could easily imagine him making fun of the proceedings. But part of me wanted him there. Ian made things more fun.
I shook my head. Dating for fun meant that the other person didn’t have to do the mundane things a real boyfriend would.