‘Nancy only sent me those drawings yesterday. Even if I did look at them, I didn’t have the software to correct them properly…I don’t have access to a printer. I’m not staying in a hotel, there is no business centre…I’m in a villa.’
I pour her a drink and slide it across the counter. She doesn’t touch it.
‘What? No. You can’t do that. How? I don’t think you can do that,’ she says pointedly. ‘It’s totally unreasonable…How? But…Julian.’ The tremble paralyses Chloe’s face; she gazes downwards, sad that she can no longer take this fight on. She exhales rapidly, taking the phone from her ear and holding it to her chest as the call comes to an abrupt end.
‘Chloe,’ I say, unsure whether to come over to her. ‘You OK?’
She shakes her head, tears filling her eyes. Her jaw is clenched, unable to get the words out. ‘I’ve just been fired.’
24
CHLOE
Oh shit. I can’t breathe. I seriously can’t catch a breath. It’s like his words have punctured a lung, crushing me internally. It feels like all that elation from earlier today has completely gone and I’ve landed back into my real life with the cruellest and harshest of bumps.
I’m not sure when you started making the rules around here and judging your colleagues like this. We are a team and I can’t accept this level of professional conduct. Consider this notice of your dismissal.
I clutch my phone and exhale slowly, standing by the kitchen counter and swaying slightly like I’m at sea. I always knew Julian was an abominable human being but he just reached a new low with his mock-indignant rage. And for all those times where I was taken advantage of, low-key embarrassed by the watercooler, working all hours and giving my soul to his practice, I have nothing now. I took that all on the chin for the sake of my professional integrity. I’m an excellent architect but none of it was enough to save me. How utterly shaming that I let him do that to me.
‘Chloe,’ Ben whispers. I can’t actually look at him. I can’t blame him for any of this, can I? He was only ever full of wisdom, kindness. Maybe I’m just ashamed, completely. I turn to run up the stairs and go to my room. I don’t know what to do.Do I pack a bag and leave and try and fix this? Do I call back? Maybe I can do some work and prove my worth to him?I can’t focus. I’m incredibly stressed, verging on nausea. I don’t know how to organise any of these feelings, how to understand what’s happening.Why did I come here in the first place?To escape that feeling. But in this moment, I feel the furthest away from myself I’ve ever been. Panic washes over me that I’m thousands of miles away from feeling safe, from being at home. I go over to the bed and sit there, staring into space. Slowly, I lay my head on the mattress, tears streaming along my nose and around the curves of my cheeks.
I don’t know how long I lie there for, or how long my tears flow but soon there’s a light knock on the door and it slowly opens, Ben’s face peers around it. He doesn’t say a word but he puts a tray of things on the desk and then he comes over to me. He sits on the floor, next to the bed, and looks me in the eye. He puts a hand to my hair and wipes away my tears. Then he gets up and pulls my arms so I’m standing in front of him. I still can’t look at him but he takes my hand, pulls it to his mouth and kisses it.
‘Come with me,’ he whispers.Are we going to watch the rest of the film?I don’t think I can bear to see the others or manage to talk or explain. But I don’t know how to say this so I follow him willingly. I don’t think sex will heal this either. But we go to the nearby bathroom and he opens the door. Inside, he’s filled the rolltop copper bath with bubbles, and there’s a strong scent of vanilla and lavender from the candles that illuminate the room. The lights are low, not glaring; some peaceful, lo-fi musicplays in the background. He stands me in the middle of the room and peels my dress off gently so it falls to the floor. He strokes my head again and then rolls down my knickers slowly. I feel too emotionally numb to worry that I’m standing here naked. In front of a man I still barely know. He looks me straight in the eye, holding my gaze. The sincerity of it all kills me. He gestures to show me that the bath is mine and I smile, nodding, stepping over the edge, putting my hands on the side and lowering my body in. The water is warm, like a hug, and I let it envelop me, warm me up. But I don’t or can’t relax. I don’t lie back but sit upright clutching my knees, still deep in thought.
‘Can I?’ Ben asks.
At first, I think he wants to come in the bath with me but he remains fully clothed and holds a jug in his hand. I nod slowly and tip my head back as he pours the water through my hair. He places his hands gently on my head and softly lathers up my hair, from the underside of my head to the top of my roots, rubbing my scalp lightly. I close my eyes as he does it, feeling his touch, taking comfort from it. He tips more water over my head and then he applies conditioner to the ends, combs it out and rinses it again. I don’t think I even do this for myself at home. I never savour a shower or a bath like this. I don’t use it to restore. I simply clean myself and move on to the rest of my day. There’s so much pleasure in just sitting here and letting the water and bubbles kiss my skin gently. Ben leans forward and kisses my bare shoulder. He doesn’t say a word about any of it, he doesn’t try and fix, he doesn’t talk, but he stays with me as I realise I need to cry and wash all this stress away.
That night, I have the worst dreams. I’m eighteen again and I’m in Paris, and for some reason, I think wearing a beret is a good idea but the French people laugh at me. The men flirt a fairbit but I keep them at arm’s length. I’m a serious architect but they look down on me. I’m trying to make the Eiffel Tower out of LEGO and all the sizes are wrong. So I swear in French and return to my sketch pad.Go away, architecture is life! It is my passion! Go shag a croissant!
I kept waking up, sweaty, confused, consumed by the repercussions of my firing. A bath was the perfect thing to calm down my nervous system and give me a moment with my thoughts, but it didn’t erase my worries. Now, in the bright light of a new day, they stay with me: the lack of finances, the probable lack of references if I try and find a new job, the complete stalling of climbing up the ladder. My career is everything to me, I’ve invested so much time and energy into it. And now? Now there’s a huge space that I can’t see past.
‘Hun.’ There’s a knock and Zara peers around the door. ‘I’ve got a cup of coffee for you, some juice,’ she says, carrying a tray across the room which holds various cups and glasses. She places it down next to me. ‘It’s beautiful outside if you want to come and sit on the patio.’
I don’t move. I know it’s nice outside; I’ve been focusing on the golden slivers of light shining through my shutters for the last hour, drooling into my pillow. When I first came here, this was the dream: stay in bed, stare at walls, rest these weary bones. ‘What time is it?’ I ask her.
‘Nearly eleven,’ she says. She perches next to me and puts a hand to my head in a sort of parental reflex, as though she’s checking to see if I have a fever. I don’t. I’m strangely lukewarm inside though. ‘Ben told us what happened.’
Ben, the kindest and most comforting of souls. He brought me drinks and chocolates when I got out of that bath. He combed out my hair; he dried it. He offered me a bowl of mashed potato. I refused but I appreciated the gesture. He found me something to wear and he did the strangest thing which no onehas ever done for me before. He moisturised me. Even though that sounds vaguely sexual, it was nothing of the sort. It wasn’t a massage. He took my arms in his hands and rubbed lotion into them, smoothed over my ashy elbows and rubbed cream into my shoulders because I needed it, nothing more. After that, he sat there; he didn’t lie with me, he let me cry a few more tears, he waited until I must have fallen asleep. The thought of him warms me for a moment: the thought that he did all of that.For me. I roll over to look at Zara. ‘Sorry to bring a downer on the day with my shitty news.’ I push myself up and sit against the headboard. ‘I’m just lying here trying to make sense of it.’
‘Well, sounds like a shitty hairy boss if you ask me, the firing, the ridiculous expectations. I did make Ben tell us everything,’ she says, looking down at the used tissues next to my bed. ‘Here, have a drink, hun.’ She puts a protective hand to my hair and studies my face. ‘Their loss, you know. I think Ben feels a bit crap about it all too. He encouraged you to take a break from your work.’
‘It wasn’t his fault,’ I intervene. ‘It was a toxic working situation and I should have had the guts to leave. I’m just worried about the future, what waits for me when I get back.’
Zara pouts and hands me a cup of coffee. I add some brown sugar crystals to it, watching them melt off the spoon. There’s a satisfying, glossy viscosity to this coffee as it slides down my throat. I think about how I usually drink my morning flat white, served to me in a paper cup after someone impatiently screams my name in a crowded coffee shop. This is slow coffee, dripping into my soul, rousing me back into the room.
‘I get that. It probably feels like a proper shot to the guts,’ she says. ‘But I don’t want to see you upset, here of all places. Don’t let that shitty boss take away your holiday, which is supposed to be a happy, restful time for you. Worry about all of that when we get back to real life, right?’
I shrug my shoulders and smile.
‘I don’t like how this has dimmed all your light. Let’s get up.’ Zara stands up and opens the curtains to let the sun stream through.
‘OK, Mum,’ I say in a pained teenage voice.
She swings around. ‘If I was your mum, I’d have thrown your laptop in the pool,’ she says, laughing.
I sit up and finish my coffee. ‘So, what’s on the agenda for today?’ I ask.
