Mina pulls her head back in horror. “I’m not dancing, Charlie.”
“Oh, yes, you are.” I touch one of her forearms with the tips of my fingers and it’s quite incomprehensible, but the touch tickles my fingertips and sends sparks up my arm. “I insist. And I promise when I’m being your fake date next weekend then you can force me to do whatever you wish.”
“I’m not sure anybody should be doing anything against their wishes anywhere,” Mina says as she moves away from my touch, folding her arms on top of the table.
“Then you can’t make me do any work!”
“You really don’t want to?”
“No!” I declare and then I dial my tantrum down a little. “I really don’t.”
“But I thought you loved work? You practically sing to yourself all day in the office and you know you smile an unhealthy amount for somebody who I assume is not on uppers all day long.”
I’m about to wave away her comment and change the subject when I remember just how open, honest and frankly, vulnerable Mina was with me. So I close my eyes and pull in a breath. “That’s what I do. I guess you could call it faking it until I make it but I just find the days easier to get through when I am smiling and laughing as much as possible.”
“Wait.” Mina opens up her arms again and the way her hands stretch towards me, I could almost think she was trying to hold my hand, but I tell myself not to be so stupid. “You really don’t like working at HNO?”
When I detect a note of something sad, like pity or concern, I feel the same old need to dismiss it. “Look, I don’t hate it, okay? I like lots of the people there and the work is sometimes interesting enough, if not exactly soul-affirming or life-enhancing, you know?”
Mina nods and I may be guessing, but I feel like she does know.
“It feels wrong to complain about work,” I say on a deep exhale. “I get paid well. It’s hardly digging ditches for a living. And yes, I do have some good friends at work, but I don’t know…” I drift off and I wait for Mina to offer an end to that sentence. But she doesn’t.
“Go on,” she prompts instead.
“I just wish I was contributing to more than just the big spinning wheel that is capitalism.”
Mina nods again, but just once this time and it’s short and sharp and feels like a full stop. “Fine. No work talk tonight. Tonight, we have fun!”
I straighten up again. “Fun? You know how to have fun?”
“Fuck, yeah!” Mina says with a clap that makes all her bracelets jingle-jangle again. I don’t know why but the noise makes me think of magic, like fairy dust or a wizard’s spell. I like it. A lot. “So, I’m going to try and guess the name of people in this room and explain why I chose that name. You’re going to tell me how way off the mark I am, but if I get any right, then you have to buy coffee for Monday morning’s meeting. Mine is decaf, because migraine disease.”
“But that’s not fair. How do I have a chance at winning and making you buy me coffee? Mina.”
“Well, do you know everyone here?”
I shift my chair to the side so I can glance around the room. “No, not at all.”
“Then you can also play guessing names but of course to find out people’s real names you have to go and introduce yourself to them.”
“You have to do some of them!”
“And say what, ‘Hi, I’m Diane’s son’s pretend date for the evening. Lovely to meet you. Any chance your name is Roderick?’”
“There are a lot of theatrical types here. Stranger introductions would have been made, I’m sure,” I tell her, feeling a smile want to break through on my lips because of how her eyes are wide and bright with excitement. I’ve never seen her face lit up like this.
“Fine, I will check every third name. Deal?” she says holding out her hand and this time I take it, willingly.
“Deal,” I say shaking it, and I hope I hide the sadness I feel the moment her palm slides out of mine.
Chapter Seven
Dancing Til Dawn
Mina
“Fine! I’m getting you coffee on Monday, but you now have to dance with me!” Charlie shouts at me over the music as we crash back onto our chairs after confirming that a woman she thought looked like a Meghan, really was a Meghan, unbelievably also spelt with a H.
