“Got to go,” he says. “Let me know, yeah?”
And with that, he’s gone.
Chapter 6
Light Stalking
The flyer smells of hiscologne.
It’s important not to become too weird once you’re living alone. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to make a first impression; Ben knew all my idiosyncrasies, all my flaws, but he came to know them gradually. It’s important to remember not to becomeyourselftoo quickly.
He asked me out. Didn’t he?
He could be gay.
He could be another cheater.
Back at home, I check the kitchen door again before heading upstairs to unpack my home office equipment in the spare room. I need to get back in the job-seeking game if I want to stick to my timeline. I have enough saved for another six months of unemployed security. If I don’t have money coming in by then, I’ll be in trouble. I need my new life up and running.
I’m attaching the legs back onto my desk when my phone pings in my pocket:
Great to meet you just now and welcome.
Treasure that flyer. It meant the world to me
for the short time I had it. Matt
I can’t suppress a grin. And then my phone pings again.
Oh, and let me know about coffee?
I’m WFH most days. Matt
Thoughts of my ex-husband and his affair flash through my mind, and I instantly feel sick.
But Matt isn’t Ben; Matt is simply a nice local dad, being friendly. I save his number, then look for him on WhatsApp. Where I find his circle photo, which is an artistic shot of an architectural building. Beside it, his full name is now visible: Matthew Whitby.
I twist on the final desk leg, turn the desk up the correct way, and angle it pleasingly under the back window. The view into the surrounding gardens is beautiful: oaks, acacias, climbing roses, apple trees, birdhouses, ponds, and other water features, all presided over by the backs of countless expensive homes.
I open my laptop and sit, browsing my newest emails. There’s a response from this morning to my latest application. I click and it fills the screen, my eyes flashing over it picking out the key words: “unfortunately” and “overqualified.”
My bright mood fades, a stoic resignation slipping in, accompanied by a twist of anger. How do you get back on the ladder if they won’t even let you use the bottom rungs?
But I have a pact with myself: two new applications for every refusal. So I get started.
Once my new emails are sent, I finally allow myself to Google Matt. And there he is on Facebook.
Sweet Jesus. Matt at university: rowing, rugby, tennis, smiling and sweaty.
I dive deeper into tagged photos.
Uni parties.
Facebook unexpectedly dries up after his early twenties.
I move to LinkedIn.
He’s an architect.
