Page 117 of People Skills

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, patting him. ‘It’s my fault he left.’

Rex looks up at me, and then he very slowly climbs onto my lap and curls up. He has never sat in my lap before. I pat him and try not to let my tears fall on his fur, and the two of us sit like that, in silence, in the dark, for a long time.

35

IN THE OFFICE the next day, Hillary is in a noticeably great mood. Graham’s first-date re-creation must have worked. She asks me to book a blow-dry at her hairdresser for Saturday morning and a dinner reservation for two that evening. I can see one of her browser tabs open on an expensive lingerie site.

Meanwhile, I have told everyone I had an allergic reaction to a bunch of flowers a friend sent me, as a way to explain my puffy eyes. Kat and Jamila clearly don’t believe me, and they gently pry when I stick to my allergy story and insist I’m fine. They know it’s my birthday and they’ve decorated my desk with balloons, and Jamila buys me a cherry and chocolate croissant from the Good Spot and leaves it on my desk and Kat offers to call Murray O’Healy back for me. (Murray calls us with some regularity now, sometimes with a new thought about his session such as ‘what if we had performers come and reenact some scenes’ and sometimes he has ‘helpful’ ideas about sessions for future festivals and occasionally it’s not clear why he’s called at all, other than I think he’s lonely.)

Hillary calls me into her office after lunch. I’m on my third coffee, because no matter how much caffeine I ingest, I still feel flat and drained and immune to energy. At least my eyes have returned somewhat to normal. Is this officially my worst birthday ever? Last year still was worse, I think, but, so far, birthdays in my thirties aren’t going well. I sit in the chair across from Hillary and steel myself in case she wants to talk about Graham.

‘So, I hear Xavier has moved out?’ she says. She’s looking pleased about this, so I assume he hasn’t told her the real story.

‘Yes, yes, sorry I should have said,’ I say.

‘Do you think he’s gone back for Lana?’ she says. ‘I think he’s gone back for Lana.’

‘I’m not sure. What did he tell you?’ I am stumbling through this conversation; my mind feels like it is inhabited by a slug.

‘That he’d overstayed his welcome, that he was bored here and he missed Melbourne,’ Hillary says.

‘Right, yes, that’s what he said to me,’ I say. The bored comment stings. Is it true? Maybe it’s true. I don’t know what to think about any of it anymore.

‘He hasn’t left you in the lurch, financially, has he?’ Hillary says, frowning. ‘You seem a little off. Especially since it’s your birthday.’

‘Oh, no, no. Everything’s fine. Financially. And I’m not a big birthday person. I just’—I swallow and try to rearrange my face into something more animated—‘I’ll miss having him around, I think.’

‘Oh, me too. But he was stagnating in this town. He needed to get out,’ she says.

I must look offended at this because Hillary quickly backtracks. ‘Of course, this town is wonderful and nourishing for lots of people. I just think Xavier needs more.’

‘Mm-hmm,’ I say, nodding, nodding.

‘You did such a great job with him, Charlotte. You got him writing again. I honestly never thought he’d write another word.’

I keep smiling and nodding, smiling and nodding. Yes. I did it. I fixed him and I sent him back to his ex and the city that I left and everything is wonderful and I want to die—you’re welcome.

‘You don’t have any thoughts about going back to Melbourne, do you?’ she asks me.

‘Not at the moment, no,’ I say. At the moment, I have no thoughts about anything except crawling back into bed.

‘Okay good, because I’m thinking ahead, to next year’s festival—and beyond. You’ve done such a great job helping with programming this year, I thought maybe we could formalise it somewhat.’

‘Formalise it?’ I repeat stupidly, not really understanding.

‘Move you into a programming role for next year’s festival,’ Hillary says.

I stare at her and blink. The slug in my brain has roused slightly, but I’m still processing very slowly.

‘A programming role? Really?’

‘Yes, as much as I would hate to give you up as my assistant, I know where your heart lies. Anyway, just an idea. We can talk about it more after the festival. I just wanted to see if you were interested.’

‘I’m interested,’ I say, and I feel a tiny spark, a little morsel of energy returning.

‘Excellent,’ she says, smiling at me. ‘I think we have an exciting future together.’

This is the universe telling me I made the right decision with Xavier, I tell myself. It’s rewarding me for being sensible. It doesn’t feel as good as it should right now, but it will later. One day, I will look back and be really proud of myself.