Page 13 of Emil

“What?” he barked. Since I wasn’t invited into his office, I spoke through the door. He hated it when someone invaded his space without permission.

“I was wondering if I could change my lunch schedule so I could go look at an apartment today. They’re only available for about thirty minutes. It’s close to work, and the price is… It’s a good price.”

“Why would I care about that?” John said. I could hear the contempt in his voice. He wasn’t wrong. We’d split up. Why would he care where I lived? It wasn’t his concern anymore.

“Is it all right if I go? I should be able to make it back within an hour. Hour fifteen at the most.”

“Your lunch is thirty minutes.”

“I know. I could take leave for the rest of the time.”

“So you want to extend your lunch and change the schedule? The amount of incompetence I put up with from you should get me sainthood. Or maybe it shouldn’t anymore?”

I lost all ability to speak. I was stricken by the idea he might fire me. In the back of my mind, I knew it was possible, but I hadn’t seriously considered that he might actually do it. The buzz of the overhead fluorescents screamed in my ears. Or maybe that was just my heart beating out of my chest. Either way, I was spiraling fast. The idea that I might end up unemployed due to this breakup was something I couldn’t even begin to process.

Just like the other day, I felt myself getting dizzy, the room starting to spin. The only option I had was to lean against the doorframe and try to steady my breathing, but the air stuttered in my chest. I couldn’t take a full breath. My lungs had forgotten how.

And then I smelled the clean, woodsy cologne that somehow magically settled me. When it wafted closer, I managed to take a deep breath. The second breath eased the pressure in my chest. By the third, my dizziness cleared.

“Anders, what did you need?” Mr. Magnuson asked in a clipped voice.

“I was asking permission to change my lunch schedule. And extend it.” I didn’t miss the glare John shot me, but I didn’t know what he expected me to do. I didn’t have the option of ignoring Mr. Magnuson when he asked me a direct question.

“Unfortunately, Anders has a habit of thinking schedules and rules don’t apply to him,” John said in a harsh tone that scraped every raw nerve I had left.

“You’re right. I’ll see if they can reschedule it for a different time. I’m sorry.” I started to move away and return to my desk, but Mr. Magnuson’s hand on my shoulder stopped me. The weight of it felt centering, and the warmth seeped through me. I felt incredibly disloyal to John for how grounding it felt. If Rory were inside my head, he’d call me a fool for even thinking John cared about loyalty in the first place. But it didn’t change how I felt.

“Anders, are you customer-facing or back office? Because I thought you were completely back office. Am I wrong?” Mr. Magnuson asked. His voice was stern, but it wasn’t aimed at me. His eyes were fully trained on John.

“I’m back office,” I answered. I tried to keep the confusion out of my voice, but I wasn’t sure I succeeded.

“Then why does it matter when he goes to lunch, John?” The steel in Mr. Magnuson’s voice was unmistakable. I flinched at the harshness and was grateful it wasn’t directed at me.

“It’s the way we’ve always done it,” John stuttered. “We have a schedule. It’s important.”

“It’s changing today. Back-office staff may take their lunches as needed. If they work through lunch, they leave early. Make sure HR knows.”

“That’s not how we do it here. And I don’t think HR is going to agree with that.”

“Remind HR that I run this place. I’ve given you an instruction. You need to follow it if you intend to keep your job for any amount of time.” Mr. Magnuson turned away from John in apparent dismissal, then looked at me. The hardness vanished from his voice.

“Anders, if you have time, I’d like to speak with you in my office, please.”

“Of course, Mr. Magnuson.”

I followed obediently behind him. Usually, after John yelled at me, the office was eerily silent and no one looked at me. Today, everyone met my eyes and smiled. When I passed Lacey, the satisfaction on her face was unmistakable. She mouthed, “Why does he want to see you?” as I walked by. All I could do was shrug helplessly and follow him into the makeshift office.

He settled behind the enormous wooden desk and contemplated me with quiet, unreadable eyes.

“Anders, please shut the door and have a seat.”

I did as instructed. I perched on the chair like a bird on a branch, waiting for a strong wind to knock me over. Which, given my size, was ironic. Mr. Magnuson leaned back in his chair. I squirmed under his observation but forced myself to stay still. Oddly, there was no weight on my chest while I waited for him to speak.

“You needed to do something different with lunch today?” he asked.

“Yes, I was going to go look at an apartment and then grab my car. I don’t think I can do it within half an hour, so I asked for more time. But if it’s a problem, I don’t mind waiting. I don’t want to inconvenience anyone or cause someone else to miss their lunch.”

“I hadn’t realized there was such a strict structure here for lunch when there’s no real reason for it. As long as clients are taken care of, it’s fine. I’ll make sure everyone knows they can go when it’s convenient.”