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My love, can you come to my office at five thirty, before you leave for home please?
*
I am shaky and teary by the time five thirty rolls around. I saw Jack about five minutes ago with a box of his stuff, like people in movies have, the only thing missing was a plant spilling over the side. He walked wordlessly past my desk and I’d almost wanted to shout after him. A big fuck you. A big ‘come back’. A big ‘how could you do this to me?’ Because after having a day to mull over it, I’m no clearer. Jack’s name was on Steve’s log. And he denies being anywherenearthe office and I feel I trust and believe him, but also, there’s a part of me screaming, thinking that I’ve trusted before and look where that got me. What else am I supposed to think?
By the time I enter Petra’s office, I am ready for anything. I am ready to resign. I am ready for a warning. I am ready to be fired. For all of it. I have let go. Except, perhaps not in the way my friends wanted me to. Maybe I’ve let go so much, I’m throwing fireballs into everything, burning it all down like some sort of reckless, lawless receptionist with nothing to lose.
Petra closes the door quietly behind me, shuts the blinds, so we’re in a tiny boxed cocoon in the middle of the office and says, ‘Champagne?’
‘Champagne?’
‘Well. Prosecco.’ She slides out a miniature bottle and two straws from her bag.
I smile weakly. I suppose you know you’ve fully crossed over to madness when your boss and friend is offering you alcohol in the office. ‘I’m good. I’m driving, so .?.?.’
Petra shrugs, and puts both straws into the bottle. She sips from them and laughs. ‘I have two of these in my bag.’
‘Is .?.?. this a cry for help, Petra Kairys?’
Petra laughs, then slowly, slowly raises her hand from behind her desk. A small gold band sits on her finger, a small, square-cut diamond in the centre. ‘I’m engaged.’
‘Oh my God! When – did this happen? We were literally together just—’
‘I know, I know.’ She sips. ‘Kira proposed last night. We were walking back from the pub, and the stars were everywhere, and I’m eatingcockles.’ She laughs. ‘And she just says it. No down on bended knee proposal or anything. But she just says it. Will you marry me, Petra? And I stand there, my fucking hair like seaweed, seafood hanging from my mouth, and she just .?.?. says it. And – I froze. I .?.?. I never thought I would freeze, Millie.’
I nod, rapidly. ‘I get it,’ I say. ‘I think it’s almost too huge to even consider being like, yes, sure!’
‘Yes, exactly! So Kira being Kira—’
‘The best girlfriend who ever lived,’ I add.
‘Gave me the ring. Told me to think on it. And if I wasn’t comfortable, we didn’t need to do anything right away. Or ever.’
My eyes fill with tears. ‘God, Petra .?.?.’
‘I know. And it was a yes the second I opened my eyes this morning really. But it was a lot to say yes, you know? To sort of .?.?. look it in the eye. This risk of yes, I might get hurt again. But if we don’t risk it, what’s the fucking point of living? You can’t live properly without risk.’
I nod as Petra sips some more. My heart is thundering in my ears. I’ve been unsettled ever since that moment in Jack’s office. I don’t know what to feel or what to think, and now, it’s all coming out in tears. Happy tears, confused tears, sad tears, what-the-fuck-am-I-going-to-do tears.
‘Congratulations, Petra,’ I say, and she sniffs too.
‘Don’t start me off.’
‘Sorry,’ I laugh.
‘I can’t even tell her yet. She’s on shift till bloody midnight.’
‘She’s so lucky,’ I say. ‘You’re so lucky.’
Petra smiles at me, reaches for my hand, squeezes it.
‘I saw you earlier,’ says Petra, and I make an ‘mm’ sound, a signal to Petra of ‘God, you don’t need to remind me.’
‘I’m so sorry if I made a scene, I—’
‘No, no, do not apologise. That’s why I emailed you. I wanted you to see my ring, of course, but I want to know you’re OK. And if you’re not, to know itcanreally be OK. Things can turn around. Look at me. And things have been starting to turn around for you lately.Change.I’ve been secretly hoping for you to hand your notice in actually.’ She laughs.
‘It doesn’t feel turned around now,’ I admit, my shoulders sagging. ‘I’m .?.?. I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.’
