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“Alan said it would be okay if I cleared it with you first.” She’s jingling her car keys in the background.
I steel myself with blue-laser strength. “I’m sorry, that’s not going to work for me. I need it by five, please.”
“I’m aware of the deadline,” she counters, voice sharpening by one degree. “I’m trying to let you know Alan is not going to have it to you on time.”
“But it’s really you who needs the extension, not Alan.” There is a long pause while I wait for her to speak.
“I thought you’d be a bit more flexible on this.” Her tone is slipping further into an impressive combination of petulance and ice. “I am unwell.”
“If you do need to go home,” I begin as I watch Joshua’s brow transform into a scowl, “you’ll need to take today as sick leave, and bring a doctor’s note.”
“I’m not going to the doctor for tiredness and a headache. He’ll tell me to sleep. That’s what I want to go and do.”
“I’m sympathetic if you’re feeling unwell, but that’s the HR policy.” Josh smoothes his hand over his mouth to hide his grin. I’m playing the HR Game with Julie.
“Sympathetic? I wouldn’t call this sympathetic at all.”
“I’ve been fair with you, Julie. I’ve given you extensions a lot of times. But I can’t keep staying late to finish these reports.”
Josh circles his hand in the air. I keep going. “If it’s late, I end up having to stay back.”
“You don’t have any family here, or a boyfriend, do you? Late nights don’t affect you like they do for people with husbands and . . . well, people with families.”
“Well, I’m not going to get myself a husband or a life if I keep staying until nine o’clock at night, now am I? I’ll expect the report from Alan at five.”
“You’ve spent too much time in the company of that horrible Joshua.”
“Apparently so. Also, I can’t do the internship for your niece, it’s not convenient for me.” I terminate the call.
Joshua lies back in his chair and starts laughing. “Well, shit.”
“I was amazing, wasn’t I. Did you see me?” I punch the air and mime giving Julie an uppercut. Josh rests his folded hands on his stomach and watches me shadowbox my reflection.
“Take that, Julie, and your life and husband and your phony sleep disorder.”
“Let it all out.”
“Take that, Julie, and your me-graines.”
“You really were amazing.”
“Take that, Julie, and your French manicure.”
“Okay.” He’s smiling at me, openly, in this exact office that was once a battlefield, and I flop back down into my chair and close my eyes and feel the glow of his pleasure from across the marble superhighway. So this is what it feels like. This is what it could have been like, all this time. It wasn’t too late.
“No more late nights for me. I’ve probably totally destroyed my relationship with her, but it was so worth it.”
“You’ll have a life and a husband in no time.”
“No time at all. Probably by next week. I hope he’s super nice.” I open my eyes and the way he looks at me makes me wish I hadn’t said it. We both hesitate, and his eyes flick sideways. I’ve interrupted our flow.
“Please, let me enjoy this moment. Joshua Templeman is officially my friend.” I link my fingers and stretch my arms over my head.
“I’m going for my breakfast meeting. Josh, I need those figures by lunch,” Mr. Bexley says, walking in between us. I think we all know this breakfast meeting is with a plate of bacon.
“They’re already done; I’ll email them through now.”
Mr. Bexley harrumphs, I suppose his best attempt at thanks or praise, and then turns to me.
