Love and Life

No one tells you adulthood is chaotic, like one big ball of snow that doesn't know when to stop but keeps gathering momentum with each twirl, aimed to crash at a cliff of no return. Maybe I am being dramatic like Lilian would say, but I don't regret that analogy. Cause, really, when does it ever end? The constant pile of bills that turns me into a crybaby. Living in New York is super expensive, and I don't mean this in that dreamy imagery young girls have when they watch the Kardashians, I am talking credit card down- payment that doesn't seem to go away, eating cereal consecutively for a number of days because your budget can't afford three square meal and looking for a job at every stop because you just have to get water running in your apartment or else you might get your mailman terrified from the smell of you three meters away (not like it hasn't happened but that is another story for another day).

 

Lilian said I'm being dramatic but she lives in Texas. It's totally okay to say I'm dramatic because Texas is slow just as the drawl that follows their intonation. I lived in Texas, too, and for a while, it was fun and relatively easy, but in pursuing the American dream, I thought New York was the place to become. Like Beauty and the Briefcase, simply walk past a walkway and see my entire future at a glance, get a job as a freelance writer, fall in love, wear classy heels, and have an unmatched fashion sense every day as I walk to the office. I was 21 then. Now I sit in front of my laptop, mailing different companies and trying freelancing gigs for different companies I never thought I had anything to do with. I absolutely detest wearing heels, you would probably find me with a quirky tee aimed to shove down my values down your throat with jeans and occasionally a cashmere sweater my Nana handed me when I was leaving Texas.

 

Love? Who has time to look for love when you're trying not to drown from the bills staring at you? I literally have to visit the optometrist every three months because my eyes hurt from my laptop screen without a single bulb on. It's rather that or I get kicked out of my house. The optometrist was cheaper when you consider that option. More than a too-opinionated semi-therapist who is sure to let me know their opinion, Gracey has become a friend who looks after me in ways I didn't know I needed, more so they tell me the truth upfront. I won't lie, it can be taunting but they're my go-to person.

“You consider having a roommate?”, Gracey asked after our appointment.

 

I was looking through Lilian's wedding dresses, she sent across for me to help her make a choice. They were all stunning, I couldn't bring myself to let go of any. I get Vera Wang is an absolute queen when it comes to wedding dresses, but the local dressmakers in my hometown are ‘fantabulous’, and yes, that's one of my made-up words. I make up one of those when I am excited. Lilian says I am a Leprechaun, but only taller. The only fact that made it less offensive was that I was 5’9, almost perfect for a model if only I had the discipline to keep off the carbs.

“Can you help me check through these wedding dresses? Lilian is getting married few months from now and she needs her dress to be perfect”, I raised the phone to Gracey's view.

 

They looked at me and sighed, I hate having a discussion about a roommate and they knew it. My house was an extension of my soul and the mere idea of having someone filling it up makes me think of comatose.

 

“They're all lovely”, there was a glow on their face. I wonder if Gracey has a boyfriend, some fling; we often talk about me and I was too up in my head to ask about their affairs. Honestly, everyone needed a therapist in New York and to find Gracey doubling as a doctor and a therapist, I was going to milk the opportunity. “I love the third one”, they swipe the phone down the desk so I could see their choice.

 

“I think I love it too”, I sent a message to Lilian, refusing to meet Gracey's eyes.

“You can get to share the rent and electricity bill, so you can stop straining your retina”

“I don't want a roommate”, I mumbled.

“I agree, the word is ‘need’. You need a roommate”

“Where am I going to find a roommate in New York?”, I took my coffee and looked outside. Gracey's office had the best appeal to it, it was homely and you get to look at the street from an angle of elevation, seeing people walking to their work or someone doing some graffiti. It was one of those slow places in New York, and they were one of the kindest people I have ever met.

“Ermm, everywhere. Have you even try?”

There was a couple running down the street in matching jumpsuits. I was Gracey's first patient on a Wednesday, I didn't have anything much to do and Gracey's clientele was a large portfolio so I ran to her office on these Wednesdays. Once I joked to Lilian that I wish I could frequent her office to reduce some fat.

“You surely will if you don't stop watching those psychopath documentaries late into the morning,” Lilian replied. Gracey didn't have to know that what kept my eyes occupied were interviews with psychopaths; lying about working on some projects was good enough. I am a detective in training, I can say proudly at the seventh series of The X Files.

“I have.” I tightened my fist by the side.

Gracey sighed, “look at me, Joanne”,

I sipped my coffee and turned my sight to the other side of the street, a young boy was riding a bike to school. I loved his hair!

“Joane!”

“I am doing okay Gracey”, I tried looking at them.

“The reason why we are having this appointment is because you're not fine. Literally”.

“But I love talking to you”, I googled my eyes at them hoping I looked like a cute puppy at 24.

“And you're down on your payment”

“Oh”, I haven't checked up on that for a while.

“I haven't said much on that because you're dear to me but I am worried for you. You can't keep going on like this. You need help”

“But-”

“Don't give me that bull, you can't do it all by yourself. There's no sin in accepting help. And at this point, you need a lot of that”

I caressed my fingers and tried my best not to bite it. Lilian has to remind me that I am an adult but I can't help it.

“I'm concerned about you Joanne. You have to, at some point, let people into your space”

I rolled my eyes, here we go again

“And I'm not talking about a romantic relationship. You have lived two years in New York and yet your only friend is in Texas”

“She's my childhood friend”, I said firmly

“What happened to making new memories?” “I made it with you”

“And?”

When they said “And” again, I shifted my gaze to their fingers, and at the middle fingers, sitting pretty was a diamond rock.

 

“Oh my gosh Gracey!”, I tried not to scream, “When? How? Where?” I examined their fingers zealously, “Details! I need details”, I retracted and supported my chin with my arms placed on their table.

 

“I got settled on that dating site I keep telling you about and after about a hundred texts, Mr. Right and I kept talking for three months, met on the fourth month, and a year later, he proposed”

“A year and four months! You were dating for a year and a month?! I feel so betrayed”, I pretended to be hurt.

“Common! You never asked”

“Fair!”, I folded my hand

 

“But that isn't the point, I am really worried about you. I mean, I love our moments together but I will be leaving New York soon and I-”

Hold up! “Leaving? Why? Where?”

 

“South Africa. They have a better opportunity there for my practice plus Trevor lives there”

 

I hate Trevor just as much as I loved him a while ago. When in the history of romance has any Trevor been known to be romantic? None! His name even rhymes with tremble! How can Gracey choose a life like that? Why would he take something I love this much to the other end of the world? Then I realized Gracey wasn't a thing I could possess and they had a life outside the world I had painted them, where I was the only character and they were meant to serve my needs. I felt terrible at that realization. I related to Lilian during our IG video stream, after trying so much not to call in order to prove Gracey wrong, I felt fear gripping my heart at the prospect of being lonely.

 

“Maybe you should consider it.”

“You know how I hate living with people.”

 

“I mean the dating site.”

I arched my eyebrows at her

“Think of it, I met Kingston through a dating app”, I didn't like Kingston, “and now Gracey met their true love. You have living testimonies around you, maybe that's a sign.”

I didn't reply to her, and that was her cue to move on, “you can just give it a try- that and a roommate.”

I pulled off my face mask, the only thing that had a resemblance to Hillary Duff in Beauty and the Briefcase, “how am I going to get a roommate?”

“Type on Facebook. Make an advert, ask your colleagues”, I no longer have colleagues but Lilian didn't have to know, “someone out there is ready to make a compromise.”

“But seriously Joanne, it's been three years since you left the dating market. Since you know..”, she trailed off. She always did when she wanted to talk about me at 18; dad's divorce, mum's accident and to add to it, I found my boyfriend cheating with some cheerleader the night after.

“And we know very much why we did”

“It's not so bad to give it a try. I mean it's New York. The dream city. So many possibilities”, she tried again.

“Movies are just movies”, I sang to her. Funny enough that's what she says to me every time I ditch an evening out with the girls to watch a movie, “New York is full of psychos. Probably the government is paying the bureau to not release the amount of people stuck in the asylum.”

“Yet Harlequin found love.”

“And he dumped her,” I said deadpanned, “over and over again”.

Lilian was never really good with comebacks, so we switched back to getting a roommate.

I sighed. There was no harm in trying, so that night before I went to sleep, I typed the words “NEED A ROOMMATE TO SHARE THE RENT” on my Facebook feed, and I downloaded the dating app Gracey kept talking about, Xena.

I slept off cursing Trevor.

I woke up to three pieces of news that Thursday: someone had indicated an interest in sharing the apartment, a pop notification from Xena to complete my profile, and a mail saying I got a job as a writer for an app. Thursday has never been this good. It was so good that I used the electricity way more than the thirty minutes that I normally would.

The interview was in person, and with a bus thirty minutes down, I could make it. They asked for an interview the week after, but I emailed and said that I didn't mind coming in the next day. There was a girl with blonde hair who had strands of red hair and wore a plaid gown from Gucci. Her bag was a Louis Vuitton, and her skin was impeccable. I was beyond appalled when I walked into the building, the architecture was good and nearly unforgettable, I could kiss the floor. I walked in realizing this company had picked me for an interview! Me with over 200 rejection mails that most didn't have the courtesy to reply to me (I will now make a mental note to send a note telling them, just like a problematic ex, that I was now working at a place way better than them- of course being demure at it). Now looking at this lady, which I later would come to call Red, I was scared beyond doubt, asking myself if I have to rent Louis Vuitton everyday to meet up this lifestyle.

We got well through the interview in one bit, me looking at her red lip gloss and red flick of hair that must cost a fortune, thinking if the job pays that amount to retain that lifestyle. Good for me.

 

“We will start you up with a $9,550 and watch you advance your way forward. Our management has high hopes for you with Gracey as your referral, do your best to meet up the expectation”, she closed her system after reviewing an article I wrote for this company a bozillion years ago. She stood up and extended a hand to me, her handshakes were rather firm.

The shake was the only thing that stopped me from screaming. A $9,550! That's crazy! Oh my gosh! I could marry Gracey! Definitely can't afford a Louis Vuitton at the moment but at least an X series with the light on is enough luxury.

“You will be working with Finneas, he will show you the ropes till you get too familiar with the routine.”, she showed me a chair to sit on while I waited for Finneas

Finneas took an hour, if I wasn't stuck on Facebook sending loads of messages to Gracey every five minutes, and double texting Lilian on the Gram while cross-examining my roommate Crescent on Facebook, I would curse at him.

By the time Finneas came out, I was stuck between living with someone named Crescent or being angry at Finneas.

Finneas however didn't show any mercy when he finally got to me. More than ever, our meeting was a five-minute brief of him being infuriated and I had no idea what I did wrong. I texted him my mail and I was to start work the next day.

I was now employed and living in New York, there was literally nothing that would make me more happy!

After much talk with Gracey about staying with a roommate despite a significant income, I decided to give Crescent a chance (we were going to have to change her name. Cresc? Sounds weird still. How do you live with someone called Crescent? What's her sister's name? Stellar?). “There's nothing wrong with an extra hand- and an ear”. After getting me a job, I am eternally grateful to Gracey so I couldn't turn down their option. More so, Trevor, forgive me O great Mary of baby Jesus, was Gracey's finance, who owned the company, who was a tech genius who created an app that watches New York, giving teas and carefully curated articles about the silliest things I never thought anyone would care about down to the political landscape I didn't know why anyone bothered themselves to try. Over a million people in New York were in tune with their app and they needed just the right writer who could “make significant impact in a few words within an average Gen. Z attention span”.

“Let me put it slowly to you”, Finneas said and proceeded to speak 3 times the normal pace, “your column doesn't have enough engagement, you're out”.

Can he do that? I asked Gracey. I didn't like the answer.

Crescent was a snowflake, like a snowflake black lady slightly older than me by months. She was thick at the bottom. I would need one of her pants to make two of mine. She had a nose ring and her skin was evenly toned, she could fit as a face model. She was also having a hard time in New York and finding a job for her revolved around malls and taking dog walks around the park from 6-9 am. She had a big smile when I first opened the door and a cat as white as her hair.

Nope! We didn't talk about pets when we talked about her coming over and she couldn't send Darey, pronounced with a “rain”, back home in such short notice.

I am going to regret this! I let the cat stay.

The living arrangement was quite simple. She stayed at the couch and was allowed to keep her things anywhere as far as it was distinctively differentiated from mine. She handles the electric bills (thank God) and paid half of the rent while I foot other expenses. Feeding was personal and Darey was confined to the living room.

I thought that was all of it but unfortunately, Miss Moon kept asking me questions about everything and anything, I had to retire to my room earlier than usual, and not because I was bothered by the television sound that was now at the parlor (even if I was- couldn't sleep), I had to be up way earlier to be at work.

Within my hours of sleeplessness, I saw the app pop up for Xena.

“Hello. You're yet to fill up your profile. Love is right at your door, fill up the information to find your match”.

Oh. I hate dating apps, but then I got bored.

My bio was simple, “Trying this out so my friends would know I have exhausted every measure to massage Baby Eros little ego” and uploaded a from a dreamy day in Paris. I would make the right impression even at my funeral.

I filled up the questionnaire and pretty soon I had requests that met my match. I wasn't going to try so I went out liking every prospect's profile.

Then I got a text

Fin the shark: “What's your friend's name?”

And true to character, he had a shark head as his profile picture with his bio reading, “Not your safest option, definitely not the best, but I can make you laugh”. Eww!

Me:Definitely not the way to start a conversation.

Him: Who says there has to be a standard?

Me: I am a Republican

He didn’t answer for two minutes and within that time, I scrolled through his profile to check if I could see anything remotely likable. It was all pictures of his dog, some project he was working on, and his buddies but no picture of him. The guy was a joke, definitely the reason why he didn't know the 101 of chatting, you don't stall.

 

Him:

First lady to ever make me laugh on this app. Never thought that day would come. Thought I was the comedian.

 

Me: Where's your stage? Ocean 11?

Him: Lol. We got a movie buddy right here. Watched all the series? Me: Only till the last!

Him: What's your favorite? Me: The first

Him: Woah. You keep interesting me Joanne, what other things have you got off your sleeve?

Me: People who use three emojis have psychopathic tendencies. Him: Oh. That shot was out of nowhere.

 

 

 

With that, I ended the chat with Shark head. Tomorrow was a good beginning.

 

 

My first day of work I was nearly startled to death when someone knocked on my room. I forgot I now had a roommate. Her snowflake hair with her snow white cat made her look like some VFX effect of a witch on some historical movie.

 

“Uhmm….sorry to bother you but it's past 7am and you said you would be at work by now”

 

 

That was how I got to meet Finneas's grumpy face. Red wasn't at her desk when I came but Finneas didn't find it funny.

 

I already didn't like him. As the day grew older, in a close space to Finneas I counted all the reasons I didn't like him. He was too uptight (he took his work too seriously), probably the 1% of New Yorkers that don't go out for any party and make sure he shoves his opinion down your face to show you he's better than you; he was too grumpy (I never saw him smile), he didn't have a fashion sense (he never wore a brand) and he was always on my neck.

Red didn't seem to be bothered about both of us as he kept shouting (he actually mailed me instructions which is so weird cause he was literally three arms away from me) instructions on me. By the end of work, I had over twenty documents I had to read and give a summary by tomorrow.

 

What and how will I do with my date with X Files?

 

 

The only person that seemed to be friendly was the cleaner lady and she was absolutely a darling to everyone. The editor who was by me, Joseph, and Louis (two more writers), and our social media handler (Yvonne) were rather a clique on their own and Louis was the only one kind enough to say more than a hello.

 

“I can do this”, I breathed in silently. Silence was my forte but as I was sitting down by my chair, looking at my system and figuring out why Finneas wanted me to read up on the “15 Shoes that work this Summer” ( all from local vendors! Why did people even need those many shoes, my sneakers were literally my best fit everywhere I go), I realized I was comfortable with silence because that was all I had.

 

“Maybe it's just the first day, you will get used to it”, Lilian said.

 

 

“Right”, I looked down on my system and thought about the twenty articles I had to give a summary to.

 

 

Lilian's wedding would be three months from now, ùby the end of Summer but she was already too perked up with preparations. She wanted everything to be perfect and Lilian was like this order witch. The more reason why she couldn't stay with me (or I with her).

 

Amidst the call, Crescent knocked on my room. I could swear my heart was caught off each time I heard a knock on my door, like some murderer was coming for me. I am always awestruck realizing it was Elsa with her snowball looking right at me.

 

She handed me an envelope as I opened the door with enthusiastic eyes. I looked past her to the room. I saw there was an artistic drawing there of someone, about to continue. Wait, was she painting?

 

“Yes”, that cherry smile, “but it's on a canvas and a fold is down below so I don't get to stain the wall or floor”.

 

I looked around, I tried not to go into the parlor since she moved it, it was like this mutual understanding we had, the room was mine and the parlor hers. “You got company?”, Lilian's voice ran through my earpod.

“Uhm”, I haven't yet told Lilian that I got a roommate. It was too early to decide if I wanted to hear her “I told you so”

 

“What's that?” I looked over at the envelope

 

 

“Rent”

 

 

“Oh”, how did she get the rent that early?

 

 

I took the money suspiciously and looked around the room again.

 

 

“Uhm, can you like, tell me when you would make some major adjustments around her. I would love to know”

 

“Apologies. Since you said there should be a definite boundary between your stuff and mine”, she made a picturesque frame of the art, “I didn't think it would infringe into your space”

 

I nodded. I had nothing much up my wall anyway, too broke to thrift than save up rent so I wondered why I was bothered.

 

I concluded the call with Lilian discussing our high school friends who, some, were doing stuff I could only dream of and well others, having the time of their lives in some apartment in Texas and being the talk of the town every now and then, and not in a good way.

 

I was now left with twelve out of those twenty articles Finneas mailed me, each with notes! It's past 11 pm and I need to be up early, if not I will be pulling up a nighter during work. We don't want Finneas mailing me that site.

 

I decided I won't try till the next morning. It was literally the best decision I could make now. X Files?

 

 

Really tempting! We could do it tomorrow.

 

 

I scrolled through my phone, ticking a few dots before I went to sleep when I saw the Shark head's message.

 

Him: Ocean Twelve was better.

Me: Never in the history of sequel should you say that!

 

I couldn't resist an onslaught on one of my best movies.

 

 

Him: But it's the fact. Me: Fact is objective.

Him: Truth rather. Truth is objective. Me: Same difference.

Him: Not exactly the same.

Me: Aristotle, is that you?

Him: Bet you're just in it for Brad Pitt.

Me: Err George Clooney and Julia were in the spotlight. Him: You have bad taste in men too?

Me: And you share paternity with the Kangaroo’s family with the way you jump to conclusions?

Him: Lol.

Attempted to use an emoji but I refrained. Don't want to be called Patrick Bateman.

Me: Too late for that.

Him: I should be offended now.

Me: That's ethical, need to pay homage to the Liberals. Him: So, I'm guessing Trump then?

Me: Kamala definitely

Him: Can't seem to read you.

Me: Depends on why you want to do that. Your future is definitely not lurking around my palms.

Him:

Me: Two emojis! Bet you were tempted to make it a trio.

Him: Extremely. Might just do that since I'm already a Patrick. Me: Or you might just redeem yourself and stay sane with none. Him: And use LOL?

Me: Perfect description if you ask me. Him: But you're not that funny

Me: And your conversation starters need work.

 

 

That minute wait again. This time, double the last. Who's this guy? Shouldn't you be going to sleep, a small still voice in my head spoke.

 

Him: It would interest you to know I have swoon ladies with my one-liners.

 

Me: Who? Older ladies in need of love on this app. Two, I am not the least bit interested.

Him: You were counting? Should have started with ‘one’ or ‘firstly’ so I could keep count.

Me: Right. Remind me I am in eighth grade.

 

 The thing about online conversation was how easy it is to not like a person. Like now, he was getting me upset. What is he? My dad?

  Him: Sorry. That might have come off wrong. Me: Wanted to go to bed anyway.

Him: Oh.

 

 

I was petty enough to stall but I didn't go off, just swung my hair into a bun and made room for my long legs beneath the sheath.

 

Him: Are you still awake?

 

 

I heard the knock on the door by 8:04 am. How in the world do people trust alarms? I should have been awake four hours ago, only I was chatting with Shark head on anything and everything till past 2 am.

 

I was so grateful for Crescent that I patted her cat. I and fur never go along! My dress was ready, my sneakers on point, the train though, that was the trick. I would have to pay a taxi and that was going to pinch my end but Crescent's money was lying down there and the rent was three months from now.

 

Grumpy ol Finneas wasn't smiling and only when he asked for the summary of the articles did I realize I never got to finish it.

 

My break time was cut off! To add to that, I was expected to make calls to each of the local vendors selling those shoes, and get across their stock pictures and ‘sort out the peculiarities of their brand’.

 

I was a writer, I knew SEO, and I could weave a pretty good narrative but as a magician to save up someone's business, I was far from it.

 

The deadline was today. Did I say I wasn't a magician?

 

“What part of newbie didn't Finneas get when Trevor told him about me”, I asked Gracey over Facebook. I couldn't visit them for now till my insurance could speak for itself but they didn't mind Facebook. I have no idea why someone would stay close to Facebook, it reeks of millennials and weird pictures of old grandma posting their kids with misplaced emojis.

 

“You're a newbie?”, they replied.

 

 

“I mean”, I looked over at Finneas's door, bet his head was buried deep into his laptop, “this is my first time working here”

 

“There where you work or at your profession?”, Gracey hardly does emojis, one of the reasons I could attest for myself to be patient and meek as a dove.

 

“The point is! He's meant to give me some slack”

 

 

“Trevor doesn't give slacks on target”

 

 

Speaking of Trevor, I have never for once laid my eyes on him. I only had Mike, the next after Trevor, there was a title for it over at the company but I didn't want any corporate talk with Gracey. I just wanted them to sympathize with me.

 

“I got to go off” Gracey texted and just like that, they weren't online. I could kill Gracey sometimes.

 

 

I had five minutes to get myself together and summarize 600-word articles, 8 of them. For some reason, the last two seem to drag off forever and I cursed myself for opening that Xena app.

 

I needed some kind of motivation and Lilian would be stuck doing something right now. With a sigh, I twirled around my chair, thinking of my playlist and wondering what playlist could fit for “Bull-headed boss”.

 

Crescent text came in

 

 

Hi. Know you're at work and all but I saw some plants I would absolutely love to get and I was checking in on you, if it was okay to get them.

 

I would choose plants over fur balls and I wanted to say just that till I shook my head, realizing how much things were changing around my personal space and I didn't have enough time to process it. I saw fur on my sofa and I swore never again to use the sofa.

 

Err. Hold on a bit.

 

 

OK Have an absolutely beautiful day at work.

 

 

I should reply but I didn't even if it felt really nice that someone remembered I worked now. I felt a bit guilty but I waived it off and continued working through the articles.

 

The days that continued at the office were similarly the same. Deadline, research, meeting with the team, more meetings with the team, meeting with Finneas, reaching out to people within New York about their business, and talking about trends I do not care about, and oh, no more X Files. Of all the things Finneas took from me!

 

I came back home most times meeting Crescent and her cat curled up doing something I didn't care to ask. I still hated the sound of television and it felt really eerie hearing someone in the house. Some days she would leave a bowl of soup with a note on, wishing me a good day or a good night but you never really trust anyone called Crescent so I drained the contents down the kitchen sink, praying she never found out.

 

Unlike me, as I observed, which of course there were a number of things I shouldn't care about but my head wouldn't listen, Crescent was always on a call. She had that many friends from everywhere and sometimes I felt she spoke Zulu.

 

We hardly talk and her snowball, Darey (I might as well add that this lady has a good history of weird names) meows at my door every now and then but it's bearable since all I do when I get back from work is sleep.

 

The only fun thing that happened aside from wondering about Red's source of income (I follow her on the gram) was the messages I and Shark Head had. I even told him about Finneas when he told me he was up working.

 

 

 

Me: You remind me of Grumpy ol Finneas

Him: Another man? I'm jealous. I'm guessing male. Me: Very much

Him: Hmm. I'm jealous.

Me: Not the very least. Didn't you get the adjective I used on him? Him: You're very big on adjectives though.

Me: That's because they're like facial expressions. You get to see the depths that's attached to each word.

 

Speaking of face, when were we ever going to see? I mean I would rather die than let a man know that I liked him (and I didn't) but what's the point of having a dating app when we're not meeting up? I had three date requests. all lined up already at some convenient restaurant somewhere but nothing beats X-Files, and since we had serial psychos running all over New York, I rather not invite anyone over. Besides, only Shark head likes X Files.

 

Him: So, this Finneas. What about me reminds you of him? Me: He's. Always. Working.

Him: Is that bad?

Me: No but this guy doesn't have a life. Like, live a little. Him: What do you mean to live a little?

In respect to Finneas, that's is.

Me: He's always staring at his computer and making sure no one is having fun. Not in the slightest. The other day….

 

I went off and narrated how Finneas had kept us on a time check when we celebrated Red's birthday (or rather she celebrated us on her birthday cause she bought the biggest cake I ever did see and wondered if she had plans for charity with that size?). Everyone was there, good ol pal Mike was there (he made passes at me and I couldn't find the proper schedule for us to work) except Finneas. And just as everyone got a piece of cake, Finneas made sure everyone was back to work.

 

Me: He thinks he's smart though. Not smart enough cause I saw him give her a gift.

Him: So, what's your thesis

Me: I smell a little office romance going on. Him: You think?

Me: I know. They have this sort of chemistry.                 

Red has to be the only one that thinks Finneas is some gift to the company.

Him: You don't?

Me: I mean!

 

 

Words failed me on how best to describe Finneas. I didn't like him but just like my colleagues, Finneas was that pain you couldn't get rid of. The app was getting ridiculous engagement because every article and video was vetted by him. He was so precise he read through every article to a fault. Even our editor felt stupid after they submitted a piece. He was insatiable to excellence and it worked! The scores for The Tea

were crazy. Yet. He trashed my first three articles and by the fourth, I thought I would be sacked.

 

 

“Did you learn anything from those articles I sent to you”, he looked at me with this exhausted look on his face after making sure there were about 234 red marks on my articles. And they were printed! How do you have 234 marks on a 600-word count? Why in the world was it even 600?!

 

I read every one of them word for word I started questioning the sanity of New Yorkers ' taste and all I got was trashed articles. I could scream over his head with his very articulated shirt pressed so neatly without a detail missing and smash that coffee cup that had that trademarked “Go Green” everywhere you wondered if it was actually free with those stamps everywhere. The thought of Devon (the accountant) paying me off my salary and I made sure I stayed overnight working on the fourth article. Shark Head helped even.

 

Me: I mean! He has a perfect work ethic but I would like to see him outside the workspace at work.

Him:  I don't get

Me: He literally is the only person who dresses like he's in some banking system. It's a tech firm, Trevor and Mike don't care Jack about what you wear. Red wears micro skirts and those tights and no one cares.

Him: Literally sounds like a lot in that statement. Me:

See how you remind me of him

Him: I'm sorry. Do you think he's cute though?

 

 

Was he? Is he? Finneas was like good-looking, but not like in the conventional kind of way. He didn't have those vivid eyes that make you want to throw off your shirt and have a one-night stand (which in my opinion, I think movies really do too much with that lies. Never have a man's eyes ‘look deep into my soul’, and I'm sure I speak for all sisters. Abbs could do the trick) but you could tell underneath those monochrome tee shirts and trousers, you could see that he was hitting the gym rigorously. Although it was hard to imagine Finneas anywhere else but at the office, it was like he belonged there and nowhere else would fit him all. He had a good nose going for him and well, a good jaw. He was pleasant to look on if you looked at him well enough, but then again no one ever does when he's out making sure “order is maintained”.

 

Me: It's hard thinking of Finneas as cute. Cute is for babies, adorable things that make you want to cuddle them, and love them to the world and back. Like Darey, that's what you call cute. Finneas. He's just…..Finneas.

 

That pause again, and it went on for five minutes. Within that period, I checked up on his profile. Nothing. He has updated nothing ever since I met him. Why do I want to see this guy again? Lilian says he seems interesting, has to be if I'm telling her about him but I told her about Finneas too and there was nothing interesting about Finneas.

 

Him: Sorry, who did you say Darey was again? Me: My roommate's cat.

Him: Someone named their cat that? Me: With a ‘rain’

Him: What descent is she? Me: Zulu, I don't know.

Him: Is that actually a real tribe? Me: I really have no idea

Him: You guys don't talk

Me: We're kind of in a situationship Him: You're bi?

Me: Straight as a ruler. Him: What about her?

Me: I don't know

Him: I'm guessing we should move on to the next topic since you don't have a clue about your roommate.

 

When he puts it like that, makes it seem like I'm the villain, and also widens the possibilities of Crescent being a murderer or something. How don't I know a thing or two about her?

 

The first salary was halfway gone between debts and trying to save up for groceries. The rent was roughly two months from now and Crescent's money was halfway down but I hope things are under control. I put half of my salary into the bank and tried making a budget.

 

I could leave all the light bulbs on for the entire day but Crescent was the one paying and we had come to an agreement previously. I got the water bill covered and the Internet bill, which I think was only fair because all Crescent did was watch TV. I know that life!

 

A few days after I got my second salary, squeezing out the little time I had to watch Beauty and the Briefcase for the tenth time, interfering with my schedule with X-Files, I switched off my phone, making sure I wouldn't be tempted to text Shark Head.

 

What was his name? It didn't matter. I liked Shark Head. He liked it too. I wondered what he looked like. I wondered if he wondered what I looked like, he never asked me for a picture or a video call.

 

Me: You have got one of the few men I know who is not the least bit interested in appearance.

Him: What's that saying about ‘beauty being in the heart”

Me: Crap! Else Vogue would be displaying organs for their walkway. Him: Would be an interesting sight.

Me: I knew you were Patrick the very moment you texted.

 

 

Those typing dots appeared and I was already too tired to play games.

 

 

Me: When are we going to see? Him: Someone is getting feisty

Me: Would have pegged you for a Patrick but this is normally their modus operandi. The goal is always to lure and kill, but you, we talk about dolphins and saving the world (We don't but something close to it)

Him: So, I'm not a Patrick. Me: Cut the crap!

 

 

 

He gave a lame excuse and I said ‘ok’ (which he should know, on social media, that doesn't mean OK. For this night, I wouldn't text him. I wouldn't care. It didn't help that I watched Beauty and the Briefcase. Within the scenes, I kept asking myself if he didn't find me hot or if my profile picture was terrible (I knew photoshopped pictures would take their pound of flesh some days!). I couldn't ask because I wasn't desperate (didn't want to appear desperate). Here's the thing about dating online, so much goes on in your head. It was a swish slap between Disney Wonderland, never thinking anything would go wrong, and a merry-go-round. The more images you have the better your chances of survival. Right now, I couldn't decide what he wanted from me.

 

Companionship?

 

 

Since Hillary Duff failed to keep me entertained, I thought I could try Confession of a Shopaholic. Shark Head didn't watch ‘girly’ movies but he admits he loves Barbie and that Confession of a Shopaholic taught good business principles.

 

“Not because you're not a hopeless romantic?” “Never!”

 

What was his name? It didn't matter. I liked Shark Head. He liked it too. I wondered what he looked like. I wondered if he wondered what I looked like, he never asked me for a picture or a video call.

 

Me: You have got one of the few men I know who is not the least bit interested in appearance.

Him: What's that saying about ‘beauty being in the heart”

Me: Crap! Else Vogue would be displaying organs for their walkway. Him: Would be an interesting sight.

Me: I knew you were Patrick the very moment you texted.

 

 

Those typing dots appeared and I was already too tired to play games.

 

 

Me: When are we going to see? Him: Someone is getting feisty

Me: I would have pegged you for a Patrick but this is normally their modus operandi. The goal is always to lure and kill, but you, we talk about dolphins and saving the world (We don't but something close to it)

Him: So, I'm not a Patrick. Me: Cut the crap!

 

He gave a lame excuse and I said ‘ok’ (which he should know, on social media, that doesn't mean OK. For this night, I wouldn't text him. I wouldn't care. It didn't help that I watched Beauty and the Briefcase. Within the scenes, I kept asking myself if he didn't find me hot or if my profile picture was terrible (I knew photoshopped pictures would take their pound of flesh some days!). I couldn't ask because I wasn't desperate (didn't want to appear desperate). Here's the thing about dating online, so much goes on in your head. It was a swish slap between Disney Wonderland, never thinking anything would go wrong, and a merry-go-round. The more images you have the better your chances of survival. Right now, I couldn't decide what he wanted from me.

 

Companionship?

 

 

Since Hillary Duff failed to keep me entertained., I thought I could try Confession of a Shopaholic. Shark Head didn't watch ‘girly’ movies but he admits he loves Barbie and that Confession of a Shopaholic taught good business principles.

 

“Not because you're not a hopeless romantic?” “Never!

 

But that was a lie. You can't have The Breakfast Club as your list of favorite movies and not the least bit romantic.

 

“It's a classic!”

 

 

Yeah right. Switching on Confession of a Shopaholic, I realized for the first time this evening that I hadn't heard the sound of a television. It was past 10 pm and I sneaked out of my room in my shorts and bun as I switched on the light.

 

Crescent was lying down on the sofa covered up tightly. Moving closer, you could see she was ill. Her white hair was beyond ruffled and she looked really pale.

 

“Crescent?”

 

 

She didn't reply and for a moment, I was scared she was dead. Darey was the first to come out of the sheath that wrapped her. He (seems like a she) meowed and looked at me, waiting for me to sit down. I sat by Crescent and tapped her on the shoulder, she turned over and Darey went over to my lap. Skin itself!

 

I hate fur thingy but Crescent was already up and I didn't want her seeing me throwing her cat out like some outcast. She drew closer to the end of the sofa and watched me, her eyes slightly closed.

 

No, she didn't want to go to the hospital. No, she would be fine, just needed some soup and no, she wouldn't be going to work the next day.

 

Could I make soup? No, I couldn't. Why do you think I have loads of debts on my end? I eat out, way beyond my budget but I could get her soup.

 

“No soup around here tastes like men”

 

 

I nodded, she didn't have to know I had never tasted her soup. After staying for 30 minutes doing nothing but awkwardly staring at her and stroking Darey (he was so soft, it felt like he had no intestine), I watched her fall asleep. I tried going in but it didn't seem right so I woke her up to come sleep on the bed.

 

“Are you sure?”

I wasn't but I couldn't watch her stay on the sofa so I slept over by the sofa with Darey (who refused to go back to his owner). I woke up pretty late and didn't realize till then that Crescent was my fail-safe alarm and I tried thinking of what Shark Head said, why I was oblivious about her.

 

“You do not think of Shark Head”, I repeated as I walked the way to the office for the remaining week but it was hard! He came up with the wittiest discussion for a start, the previous night, for instance, he texted “Do you know you don't need palms to read the future?”

“Candles then”

With each text, I wanted something, anything of a facial resemblance, a voice or something but nothing.

 

 

So I tried silence and within then I nursed Crescent (‘Nursed’ is a strong word for watching Friends with her and making a disaster of a soup even under her supervision- Darey couldn't even taste the soup). Talking of Darey, he was growing on me. Crescent was jealous but there was nothing neither of us could do. Whenever he came over to my end for a stroke during an episode of Friends, Crescent would scream betrayal and he would meow like he was some shameless criminal acknowledging his crime. Crescent's laugh was glorious, I told Gracey and Lilian but it just wasn't complete without Shark head. How in the world have I lived two years in New York and Gracey and Lilian were all I knew?

 

I have never seen Finneas on jumpers before. I don't think anyone ever has and so, I could swallow my heart the morning I walked into the office and saw him sitting down there uneasy with a tee that did really good for his biceps, short-sleeved at that, showing how toned he was.

 

He looked dashing and everyone told him except me. I was still in shell shock and wondering why I was called. He and I had come to a conclusion after my first pay, he still towered over my duties and demanded excellence but he smiled now and wasn't always walking like he was recently recruited into the army for WW3.

 

“We're going out”, he announced as he stood up, and for a moment or two, it felt like he was expecting something.

 

‘Ok’, the idea of going out with Finneas wasn't a fun idea. Did I mention he was a killjoy?

 

 

We were going in his car. That would mean I have to sit in the front with him, cause where else would I be? When he got to his car, he searched his pocket and asked me to get his key, “it has a shark head mascot to it”.

 

I giggled and he asked why, and all I could say was that it was rather funny.

 

The drive through New York was funnier. We were going to meet this local vendor that made it big in the interior design world. He was German and didn't like social media and so I and Finneas (for reasons I don't know why) were going to cover the story. Documentary style.

 

Meeting Mr. Albrecht was transformational. The 58-year-old German wordsmith was a giant in the industry, uncontested and it hurt he didn't have the much-desired publicity he needed because he refused to be on social media. It was a family business which his children didn't pay much heed to but he and his staff were giving it their best shot. They recently let in some new folks who didn't know much about the tradition but were ready to take a new curve and so to start off with a boom, they wanted The Tea to cover their story and launch their social media app. They were paying a fortune for it, they were not on social media but their clientele held some major say. Mr. Albrecht was a casualty of war and found comfort in hiding away from people and staying with his wife. After his wife's death, he drew his father away from his children and crafted furniture for closure. The kids blamed the wood for taking their dad away, Albrecht's friend present at the interview said and since then they have simply been watching the craft from a distance and feeding off it.

 

“I mean I could understand why the clientele didn't want him out there much. His pieces are way authentic and unique to be seen everywhere”, I said as I took some food I wasn't sure what it was but it sounded healthy. Finneas's approval was very much needed despite the fact that he was the last person I would go on a lunch date with. But here we are, he called in at the office that the interview took way longer than usual and we would go home from there. He lied. Which seems almost too good to be true but here we are.

 

“Like every piece was pieced together with love”, “Or the longing for it”. I corrected.

 

He looked at me and smiled silly, “That's rather smart of you”.

 

 

“Is that why I was asked to take on this project”, I have been waiting the entire day to ask him this but with Finneas, you have to be sure you don't question order least his carefully curated multiverse falls apart. Jonathan, our photographer, was unavoidable for a while but Finneas was a badass at photography (was there anything he wasn't a badass at?! It made us feel bad).

 

“I wanted you to understand what it means to actually work in The Tea”, I arched my eyebrows at him, he dusted his hand for no good reason, and then looked at me. I could swear that his eyes looked straight into my soul and I saw the flicker of blue in it. I never knew that and for a second, a tiny second he could be described as handsome. This moment felt like that one time in Beauty and the Briefcase only Hillary didn't hate her boss. Matter of fact, they were friends, of some sort.

 

The drive home was messy because I didn't reconcile the Finneas I met at work and the one who let his hair down during our date. And then a thought came to mind just when I heard him say “Breakfast Club”.

 

Could it be?

 

 

Matters of such end needed an insane amount of sanity to resolve so I didn't try anything till I got home. I even waived off Crescent's greeting in a bit and walked straight to my room. I took a warm shower, tied my hair in a bun, and then switched on Xena. I didn't have to message him even if he dropped a litter of text about some monumental argument that could make me tick, I scrolled through his profile. Three updates away was his workspace at home with three emoji to it. My heart was racing.

 

A work addict just like Finneas but then again, I couldn't conclude- not until I saw that shark mascot key that stayed glued to his table, subtle but still visible.

 

Darn it! I have been played. I deleted the Xena app. I couldn't bring myself to sleep and I didn't know why I was crying. I mean why did this hurt? We have been talking for two straight months and some, it felt a lot like he was my friend, but more than that, it felt like he was my boyfriend.

 

I mean we had oral sex every now and then and funny conversations in between. It was a girl's heaven, to have someone who could match your sentences and didn't think I was a weirdo because I would sit out parties to watch X Files and I liked bringing my freak on but only at the century-themed party. We were compatible in most sense and now, it was all Finneas. I didn't know if I should feel angry, sad, or just plain disgusted. He tricked me! And now, it's just another one that bites the dust.

 

I couldn't help it so I moved forward to the living room and cried into Crescent's arm. She was awake and clueless about everything and it didn't help that I was blubbering ridiculous even Darey seemed to stop and stare from afar. I was a mess and I didn't know why.

 

I kept blubbering and stuttering even as she woke up and I had to tell myself that I needed to be calm if I wanted her to have a smidgen of reasoning but I couldn't. It was like my head was far from my body and was afloat and I kept asking myself why did this hurt.

 

Crescent didn't understand a word I said (which was logical) so she asked for my phone and dialed Lilian's number. And of course, it was crazy for her to find Lilian amongst the strings of emojis that were tied to my contacts but I helped her through it. Lilian was asleep. It only made me cry the more but then Crescent said to try a voicemail, imagining she was right there. And just like some magic wand, I took a deep breath and told the ghost of the future Lilian about how this man I had been craving to be with for over two months was my boss which I was of perfect surety did not like.

 

“So that's what happened”, Crescent said, and I nodded and she held me till I got back to sleep. I woke up to Crescent and Darey on the floor while I was covered up. I was too ashamed to say much so I ran into my room and the event of yesterday hit me. It was past 6 am and although this was one of the few times I was up early, I dreaded going to work.

 

$9,550!

 

 

I dragged my ass to work and for the first time since I worked at The Tee, I had on my heels, some pantyhose and a midi skirt with a ruffled blouse tucked on and an unbranded bag but who cares. The trick was simple, I would never let anyone see me lose my head because of their messy end.

 

Did he even know I found out?

 

 

I needed a lot of courage today and that ultra-feminine chic was the best rage I could summon. With my hair down and those glasses up my face, I looked like I made Harvard's prestigious diplomats, think Hailee Steinfeld in “Most Girls”.

 

And with the eyes, I got as I walked out of my apartment, I knew I made an impression. The same impression I got when I walked into the office.

 

Red was the first person I greeted but all she did was stare till it didn't seem like she was obvious, next was the trio, and then Mike was sure to drop off at my end.

 

“Is there something we should know Finneas”, he smirked at me as he made the call to Finneas's office. He was in jeans today and a turtle neck, if I wasn't mad at him, I would be sure to call him hot, “You came into the office a new man yesterday and now Joanne is on heels!”

 

“That never happens!”, Louis said

“Uhm”, Yvonne said, bringing out her phone to take a picture, “Smile for the camera. Never know when you need a picture for Staff of the Month" and just like that, I was in character, thinking I was Margaret Robbie in Joker before she became a psycho.

 

Finneas popped a head and told Mike not to bother me, everyone should get back to work, and I should see him in twenty.

 

I wanted to puke but I did it anyway. I took a deep breath, knocked on his door (we never did that), and stood by his table anxiously.

 

“If the heels were that bad, it would be all the more reasons you should sit down”, I didn't look at him but I could hear the smirk in his voice.

 

How could I be so stupid? This was all some game to him and I was caught. But why?

 

 

“Okkk. You're not saying anything”.

 

 

I didn't want to look at him because I would cry a river so I instead looked at my heels. Goodness, I hated heels!

 

“Did I do something wrong?” his voice was softer now.

 

 

I shook my head.

 

 

“Ok. Well, I wanted to uhmm…congratulate you as you took ton the first series of Colors. Make sure you're as precise as ever and well don't forget everything I told you”

 

“Yes”, I said in one deep breath.

 

 

“Are you sure I can't help with anything?”

 

 

Silence.

 

 

“Ok. I will be expecting a draft by Saturday night”.

 

 

That was a longer extension than what he would give so I replied I would turn it in on Friday morning. Three days from now.

 

“Ok”

 

 

“Be sure to mail me when you need help”, and then I lost it.

 

 

“Or I would text you on Xena”, silence overwhelmed us like a blanket, it gave me covers to look at him. There was a grave defeat in his eyes but he didn't turn his eyes away from me.

 

“What I don't get is why?”, I spoke that out without blubbering. Impressive!

 

 

“Because you were easier to talk to there”

 

 

“I'm sorry! And you didn't think it was nice to let me know it was my boss”

 

 

“What difference did it make?”

 

 

“A lot! For starters! That was Shark head and you're, nothing like him”, I looked over at him.

 

 

“You see that, that attitude. That's why I wanted to remain Shark head”

 

 

“You entitled psycho! Who gave you the right to feel entitled? You deceived me!”

 

 

“No”, he stood up abruptly, “You're getting it all wrong. The algorithm compiled your name to people within the geographical location and darn it! Your bio was too ingenious I couldn't ignore, I just wanted you to see me differently”

 

“And so it was okay for you to take advantage?”

 

 

“I didn't mean to”

 

 

“No picture, no VNs, no video calls. Thought you never liked boobs”

He looked past me to the door and hushed me down as we looked at the door together.

 

 

“You're looking at it the wrong way”

 

 

“And you should have the better view of it, you liar!”

 

 

“Again”, he looked pained as he tried to explain, “I didn't mean to lie to you, it's just I didn't know how to be anything less than what you wanted me to be at the office and Xena, I was allowed to be myself with you. I fell in love wi-”

 

“Drop it!” We were not in Senior High, where it was okay to play connect dots with people's emotions. I don't know how he could go on saying that like it was some kind of trophy and I should jump along it for a ride.

 

I turned to the door

 

“I and Rose were a thing for a while. A year. We loved each other till I realized she didn't. Not like I would. And long after that she was engaged and married to someone else who had massive shares with Telsa”, (that explains the Gucci. Go Rose! Didn't know you were married), “Office romance wasn't an option to try out and I didn't want to. I was, scared but then your humor, your taste for movies, your commitment to seeing yourself grow, how it was so easy being in anything with you, I just didn't know when to stop”

 

“So, I was the experiment?!”

 

 

“Why aren't you listening to me?”, his eyes pleaded at me

 

“Because I should sue you for having a double identity! (can they do that?) You don't get it. You took away my choice. I wouldn't have told Finneas about my breakup or my weirdest sex story or shared memes from my favorite movies with Finneas. I wouldn't have. Not in the least way!”.

 

He looked at the door again but not before I could see hurt in his eyes. Fine! I hope he feels exactly how I feel.

 

“Now if you excuse me, I have a job to finish”.

 

 

For all the time I worked on the articles for colors, it was a constant recollection of how Finneas (I couldn't call him Shark Head, it just felt so sacrilegious) laughed and Mr. Albrecht was so easy with him, the glide of his body as he took those camera shots and the conversation we had way after. He really cared about these people, and his job, he was a much different person outside the office. My ultra-feminine chic era helped me through the week but only till I got to the office. Finneas never stopped wearing those dark shades of cashmere and tops, looking at him made me want to turn Picaso. Mike was persistent about the date but I couldn't see myself being with anyone in the office and somewhere in part, I understand Finneas fear of being committed to someone. He threw glances at me every now and then but I ignored it. We hardly talked outside our work email and a three-minute conversation I had to have with him when my article ‘One Sawdust per Love” got the highest view in a day in the last six months. Mr. Albrecht was grateful, his gratitude was seen heavily, the ROI from the traffic was crazy, I even got a face time with Trevor (I take back whatever I said about him) and a bonus to my salary (good! Because if I didn't pay the rent, I would have some explaining to do) the picture Yvonne used my picture for Staff of the Month (I did give the Margaret Robbie vibe). Everything seemed to be perfect but why was I watching Friends with Crescent and I felt like something was missing.

 

Lilian called back after she got my voicemail and she did her thing but it wasn't enough, she wasn't there. Gracey texted me congratulations, they felt like a proud mother and I owed her. They and Trevor would be leaving pretty soon and they were too occupied getting things sorted out. Crescent however prepared a bowl of soup for me as I worked on another article for Color, this time I went with Jonathan.

 

“His sticky hair scares me”, I told Crescent as she brought the soup into the room.

 

 

“Is that all?”, she grinned at me, “not missing a certain someone”.

 

 

As a code of conduct, we didn't mention Shark Head, Fin or Finneas ever.

 

 

“We do not talk about Finneas”, I said as I took a spoon of her soup. My eyes widened at the delight that I had missed for so long, I tried faking being normal.

 

She laughed. Her laughter was musical. We just watched Encarto via screen and it was all I kept talking about. Sometimes I wanted to install Xena and coerce Shark Head into watching but then I would see Finneas and I would go to sleep.

 

“You don't have to punish yourself Joanne”, she sat by the bed, Darey close by (Darey was from a Nigerian movie she watched a while back and she thought it pretty cool. She was actually a native of New York, just had friends who spoke at the speed of lightening). I looked at her, and she arched her eyebrows at me, “for falling in love”

 

“Pfft”, I took another spoon and tried getting back to work.

 

 

“Maybe you're seeing it the wrong way. I, for a fact know that you're not easy to love”

 

 

“Excuse me!”

 

 

She raised her hand as if she was trying to shove me back. “I mean you threw my bowl of soup away”

 

 

Crap!

 

 

She smiled, “You possibly didn't think I won't find out. The sink smelled of my spice each time I came back”

 

“I'm sorry” I didn't look at her.

 

 

“You're forgiven. But my point is, you have built a wall around you so high it's a bit tall to climb and I don't know the reason, there got to be a reason, but you're so closed off it's hard to get to you”

 

“But that isn't what happened with him”

 

 

“Ok, but it worked. I mean, this is literally the fourth time I have been in the bedroom but you let someone walk into your heart without so much of a restriction”

 

“That's because he showed me someone else”

 

 

“Or he presented himself the best way he could. Look”, she drew closer, “I don't know much but as an artist and my five-year stay at New York, I realized humans are not devoid of layers. Like you never loved fur balls but Darey thinks you're his number one fan. People have layers all piled up and for us to love them, you must love all the layers. The real question is, do they make you happy?”

 

She patted my shoulder and walked towards the door. “And I think he's cute”. I showed her an IG picture of him on the office's IG page.

 

“Darey is cuter”, her laugh seemed to fill the air as she walked away.

 

 

I realized in more ways than one, she was right and well, Finneas wasn't wrong. My therapist was my optometrist and friend in New York for all the time I have lived here. And maybe Finneas was a psycho, there were greater sins I couldn't forgive like Jonathan's spike head. It was like Colors, people were like shades of rainbows, it took all shades to be a work of art and Finneas was probably showing his best fit.

 

When I really thought of it, I was glad it was Finneas. I now know Red treated him like some gold, cause he is and it felt comforting. To know that I only could have that part, at least at the office.

 

It took me two days to gather up the courage to talk to him. He was always the last to leave the office so I waited. For some reason today Mike didn't want to leave. When they were both out, Finneas was surprised and Mike was grinning like a starfish.

 

“Love the looks today Joanne”, he said in passing.

 

 

I said thank you and turned right to Finneas's face.

 

 

“Hi”, I said.

 

“Hi”, he said uneasily. He was looking at the door, making sure Mike left.

“Did you know Ocean Eleven has a better rating than Twelve at IMBD? Goes to show that I was right”

 

He smiled, “Fact is objective.”

“Truth. Truth is objective” I looked up at him. In movies, this was the moment you kissed the person like it could right all the wrong that happened. It still felt weird doing that to your boss, and so I looked up at him and tried holding his hand like I was some girl in preschool tagging along with her friend.

 

“Thank you”, he was surprised, “thank you for showing me this part of you”

 

There was this warmth in his eyes as he looked at me and then he coughed.

 

“Is this the part where we kiss?”, I grinned. He felt at home already.

 

“I think Mike is gone”, I smiled coly.

 

He nodded and then tipped my chin and gave me a kiss. It wasn't the kiss that ‘your heart raced a 360’ but a package of color and of all the emotions I felt, safety was part of it.

 

“Wait!”, I drew back “How old are you”

“21” he grinned and stopped when he saw the disgust on my face, “26 Joanne. Do i fit your bucket list?”.

 

 

“This thing about office romance though”

 

 

“Too late for that”, he giggled.

“Right”, I kissed him now, “is this the part where we get to have office sex”

“Lol”

“With two or three emojis”, he shushed me, “you can tell me that on Xena”

“Nope. Never doing that again”

 

 

“Oh. Well their loss, I got you”, and then he held my hand, “and for your question, I think we should decide that over an Italian dinner”.

 

“Uuh, isn't that romantic”, I swooned.

 

“You're crazy”, he laughed. It was one of those beautiful sounds I have ever heard. As we walked out I asked, “is there any plant shop we can stop by and get a plant for Lilian”

 

“Darling, this is New York. It never sleeps”.