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Sam’s head peered into the room. Then he stepped in, shut the door behind him and leaned back to it. He watched me from a distance, knowing I needed my space. Sam must have seen Joe leave. He must have waited for him to leave.
“I think I lost Joe.”
That’s what I was feeling. The sadness of having just said goodbye to my bestfriend without actually saying the words.
I lost Joe. I knew I did.
Without my full permission, my lungs expelled a shuddered breath with a whimper. And another. Till my tears of grief were let go.
And Sam was right there to engulf me in his comforting arms, nuzzling my head under his chin. His hand brushed over my hair like I was a little girl. His hushed ‘shh’ instilled me with a sliver of calm and his next words soothed me completely.
“I’m here.”
* * *
Chapter Seven
Too tiny… Too shabby… Too expensive. Since when did a studio apartment become so costly to rent?
Uhh. Exhausting. Half an hour of browsing through the listings and I was already fed up. What an excellent prospect.
Earlier today, at around five in the morning, when I woke up to pee and bumped into Joe coming out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, I realized it would be sensible to move out. Since our last conversation six days ago, things have been awkward. The two times we managed to cross path at the apartment – one of them being that morning – were a little too weird. Weird enough that we couldn’t make eye contact and had no idea how to start a conversation. Despite agreeing to be friends, I was right. We couldn’t go back to how we were. So the decision to move out came surprisingly easy. Guess I had enough time to accept that I had truly lost my friend.
I had forgotten how difficult it was to decide from mere pictures which apartment was the most appealing place to spend your free hours mulling over your misery in solitude. The last time I rented an apartment for myself, I lived in it for nearly three years and sought a rental agent’s help to scout it for me. Maybe I should opt to do that again. I didn’t have time or the patience for house hunting. All I needed was to find a trustworthy agent and present him with a list of my requirements.
Only question was: what requirements did I have? Nothing particular. I wasn’t picky. Except maybe it must be a max of thirty minutes away from the office. And preferably with a back garden or at least a nice terrace. I love working outside in the cool breeze. Oh, also, definitely must have a microwave. What else?
My desk phone rang just then.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Lucille. You’re here.” It was Sam. “I thought you decided to work from home today.”
“I couldn’t work from home today. We got a meeting, remember?”
“The meeting that was scheduled to start three minutes ago?”
I peeked at the clock. 10:03.
Shit. I lost track of time looking through that damned rental website.
“I’ll be there in a minute.” And I hung up the call.
Switching the webcam app on my laptop, I checked if I was presentable enough for a meeting with the boss. No make-up, wearing a plain shirt and baby hair was all unruly around my hairline. Not my usual style of classy pencil dresses and stilettos but decent enough considering I’ve only bothered with five minutes to get dressed that morning. I ran a quick hand to smooth over my hair that I hadn’t set with some hairspray when I styled it up in a high ponytail. Then quickly picked up my laptop and practically jogged down the corridor in my sneakers.
When I reached Sam’s office, I knew he was waiting for me, so I let myself in without knocking.
“Sorry about the three minutes.” I sat at the small round meeting desk in the corner of the room.
“Actually, it’s four now,” Sam smirked cheekily at me when he stood up from his executive chair and came around. He stopped just a tile or two away from my chair, his eyes scrutinizing me wholly. “Are you okay?”
“Mhm.” Was my dry answer equivalent to I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it.
I opened my laptop, ignoring that Sam didn’t budge from beside me.
“So you’re moving out?”
Damn it. Forgot to close the internet browser.
