Stained Pages - Part Two

My eyes scan the manuscript that Harriet sent me. It’s a sweet story about two college students reconnecting after they went their separate ways when they were younger. I find a characterization inconsistency and make a comment in the margins. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Harriet standing at the door of her office, arms crossed, back ramrod straight. She’s been coming out every so often, intimidating us with her presence so we’re all doing what we’re supposed to do. Sometimes I feel her eyes searing in my direction. I keep my head down and clack my fingers loudly on the keyboard. 

Michael tries to catch my attention from across the room. He makes silly faces at Harriet’s back and balances a pencil on his nose. Giggles threaten to erupt out of my mouth, but a quick glance at my boss gets rid of that impulse. Rumor has it that she drove the last assistant before me to tears when he accidentally filed the wrong document. He quit on the spot. 

I don’t know what she’ll do to me if she sees me laughing, and I don’t want to find out.

Harriet sniffs and goes back inside her office, closing the door behind her. As soon as she is gone, Daniella stands up and grabs her coat. 

“Lunchtime,” she says in a sing-song voice. Some people chuckle, but the atmosphere has decreased dramatically in tension. Michael gets up, stretches, and makes his way over to me.

“I’m starved,” Michael says. He grins at me, pushing back his brown hair. My chest feels fuzzy at the sight of it tousled. What would it feel like to run my fingers through it?

I clear my throat suddenly to get rid of these thoughts. I really hope I’m not blushing again. Wait, is he waiting for me to answer?

“I’m hungry too,” I say. It’s true; there is a small ache in my stomach.

“Hey, Mike.” Jane, one of the cover designers, comes up to the desk. “Hi, Poppy. Mike, some of us are going across the street for a bite. Want to come with?”

There’s a spark of anxiety in my chest as I rapidly glance between her and my laptop, trying but probably failing to be inconspicuous. In the last five days I started working at Penguin Random House, I’ve only ever had my breaks alone or with my coworkers in the office. To go out to eat with them would feel like I’m part of the group.

But Jane is still turned towards Michael.

“Sure,” he says. He looks at me, but I quickly look at the manuscript again. “Maybe Poppy could come too?” 

Jane finally looks at me, but her expression doesn’t fill me with hope.

“I don’t think there’d be enough room in the car,” she says to him. “It’ll be me, you, Frank, Tom, and Daniella. I’m really sorry, Poppy.”

My chest squeezes. 

“That’s alright,” I say, trying to keep my voice light. 

Michael frowns. “I’ll stay behind, then.”

“Don’t stay here on account of me,” I say. “It’s just lunch.” I shrug, ignoring the lousy feeling in my stomach. 

“Are we getting lunch, or is it going to materialize in our stomachs?” 

I stifle a groan as Daniella stalks over, coat half-pulled on and wearing a vexed expression on her face. 

“The boys are waiting for us. What’s the problem?” she snaps.

“We’re trying to figure out seating,” Michael says.

Daniella purses her lips. “My car can’t fit six people,” she says, “and I’m hungry from all the work I had to do.” She glares down at me. 

As much as Daniella irritates me, I can’t help the guilt I feel as I remember how Harriet had given her the work I was supposed to do.

“Thank you for covering my assignment,” I tell her. “I really appreciate it.” And I do mean it.

“It’s okay,” she says. “I really don’t mind, and I’m sure Harriet appreciates that someone reliable is doing their job.”

She sharply pulls the rest of her coat on and leaves. Jane, with an apologetic glance at me, follows.

I glare at her back. “Jerk,” I mutter.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Michael asks. “The two of us can take my car.”

“I have a lot of work to catch up. You go on ahead.” He hesitates, but I give him a reassuring smile. “Really, if I go out, I think I’ll get a headache.” I put emphasis on the last four words.

“Okay. I’ll see you later,” he says. He grabs his coat and, with one last wave to me, he leaves.

“Have fun,” I say, though it’s more to myself. The office is nearly empty. My coworkers either gone or in their own little clusters. I turn back to my screen, acutely aware of how much space there is between me and everyone else.

Appointment Reminder 10:30 AM Next Wednesday.

Review Final Details for Marketing Deal Friday.

Meet with Agent about Last Minute Revisions Next Tuesday.

I type out each meeting agenda into the calendar and tag whoever is involved so they are also aware. 5:00 came and went. My eyes are stinging, and I can feel the beginning of a migraine, but I push through the discomfort. The faster I schedule these meetings, the faster I can go home. 

And the faster everyone will forget about this morning.

Something taps my shoulder, but the pressure is so tiny, I barely notice it. Then again, firmer.

Biting down my annoyance, I turn my body first, keeping my eyes on the screen for as long as possible until my head follows my neck to face Michael. 

“Hi,” I say. Seeing him is unexpected. Since he and the others came back, our separate workloads prevented us from talking again. I had assumed he went home with everyone else.

“Hey.” He raises a hand sheepishly. “Sorry to bother you, but I thought you should know that work ended fifteen minutes ago.” 

“I know,” I say. “I just needed to schedule all these meetings for everyone.” I rub my eyes. “It won’t take much longer. You working late, too?”

“Yeah, just secured an interview for Levi to promote his new book,” Michael says. 

I return to my laptop, tapping the touchpad to wake the screen up. “That’s great. I hope it works out.”

“Thanks, but I’m not too worried. Levi’s books always sell well.”

“And you’re brilliant at your job too.” I flash a smile at him. He returns it, warmly. “How was lunch?”

“Fine. We went to a cafe a couple of blocks away. Tom wanted fast food, but Daniella said the grease would ruin her carseats.”

“Wait ‘til she discovers napkins exist,” I say dryly. “It’ll blow her mind.”

“Or washing your hands after eating,” he responds.

I throw my head back in laughter. Michael joins in, and for the next minute, it’s just the two of us in an empty, cluttered office, poking fun at our high-strung coworker. Then the laughter quiets down, and I realize that we are the only two people left in here. I fiddle with my sleeve, looking anywhere else but him.

“It’s getting late,” he says. “Can I walk you to your car?”

I shake my head quickly. “You don’t have to wait for me. I have a couple more things to do anyway. I’ll be out in a jiffy.”

I glue my eyes to the screen again. My fingers fly across the keyboard, and I steadfastly refuse to acknowledge his presence anymore. Just a couple more minutes to finish everything. But out of my peripheral vision, Michael is still standing there.

“It’s dark outside,” he presses, “and I’m pretty sure the only other people in this building besides us are the custodians. Whatever work you have left can be done tomorrow.”

My hands slow, almost involuntarily. The only thing left to do is schedule next week’s meeting with marketing. 

“I guess I can do that in the morning,” I say. I shut the laptop and grab my bag.

Michael beams. He steps back as I get up and hands me my coat.

“You’re doing great at your job too,” he says.

 I shrug my coat on, mutter a quiet “thanks”, and he follows me out of the office, his hand resting lightly on my lower back.

It feels like electricity.