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“So, please drive me to the office. You can park the car in my employee parking lot on the parking deck. It’s just a puddle jump down to the station from there.”
“Got it.” Escaping the infamous red wave of the thoroughfare, I turn right behind the McDonald’s and merge into the direction of the city center. But as we pass the vocational school, I regret my spontaneous decision. The short wheelbase of the Fiat makes us bump over every single pothole on Count-Palatine-Otto-Street.
We almost take off at each of the speed bump chicanes, even though I’m clearly under the prescribed eighteen miles per hour.
Fortunately, Celine appears to be used to the practically non-existent suspension. She shows no signs of fainting again or even of nausea, and miraculously we reach our destination without me hitting my head on the Fiat’s glass roof.
Getting out of the car turns out to be a bit more complicated than getting in. But with the help of a sort of limbo dance, I somehow manage to get out.
Celine tries to say goodbye, but I insist on accompanying her across the street and into the foyer.
Behind the reception desk, which is busy today, a classy dark-haired woman jumps up when she spots Celine at my side. “Ms. Lechner!” She literally races around the furniture and takes Celine’s bags from me before putting her arm around her in a caring gesture. “My goodness! You look awful!”
Celine looks into the floor-to-ceiling mirror next to the reception desk and gives me a wry smirk from below. “You could have told me,” she complains. “I have a kit in my purse for makeup emergencies.”
I wonder what else would have fallen into my hands in the depths of her bag while searching for it!“I don’t think you look bad at all,” I claim, and that’s not even a lie.
“What happened anyway?” Celine’s colleague asks.
“Oh, I just felt a bit sick.” Celine plays down the issue. “Mr. Sandtmann was dying to play gentleman, so he insisted on driving me here.”
“Fuck!” slips out of my mouth, and the receptionist reprimands me with a true laser gaze. “You went out like a light!”
The colleague’s expression turns from distaste to concern. “You fainted?” she asks Celine, who now, in turn, is shooting killer glances at me.
Unfazed, I nod. “Quite scary. I had to carry her to the sofa and put her legs up. Still, it took some time for Celine to open her eyes again.”
“Good gracious!” The brunette shakes her head. As she leads us to the back of the staff kitchen, which I already know all too well, she eyes Celine even more insistently. “What’s going on, Ms. Lechner?”
“I have no idea,” Celine replies, giving me a look with all guns blazing, which I parry with a shrug.
I want her to see what a scare she gave me.
“So, Mr., uh, Sandtmann, thank you for your helpfulness.” The receptionist waves me off at the kitchen door. “But surely you will have something to do today…”
I do. But not until this afternoon. But I don’t want to impose on them. “Bye,” I say to Celine. “Goodbye,” I address the brown-haired woman.
“Bye,” Celine echoes, looking so forlorn that I decide I’d better leave quickly.
Not that I’ll end up giving in to the disturbing urge to stroke her cheek comfortingly!
“You’ve fainted at the drop of a hat…” As I walk away, I overhear Celine’s colleague’s line of thought spoken aloud. “Possibly combined with morning sickness…? Tsk, tsk, tsk, Ms. Lechner! There won’t be a little Lechner in the family way, will it? After all, you’ve been dating your boyfriend for quite a while now, right? Oh, isn’t it wonderful?”
Her assumptions, spoken with increasing enthusiasm, run down my spine like ice water.
I quicken my steps, hurry out through the automatic doors, and take a deep breath as I finally stand outside.
Damnit! What is this abnormal feeling that has taken hold of me?It tears my stomach like an asphalt grinder.Absolutely insane! I’ve never experienced anything like it.
I must have ingested something foul. And so must’ve Celine. That is the only reasonable explanation. I cross the street between two delivery trucks and decide to immediately dispose of the opened milk carton back at the parlor.
12. To Hit theNight WatchmanRight on the Head
Celine
“What a bummer!” I sit at my desk, brooding, and stare at the computer monitor. On it, the new sample text for birthday greetings to our customers should have been created long ago. I hate assignments like this! But as a junior employee, I could hardly refuse when Mr. Bretschneider gave me this task yesterday.
In addition, the existing text module really needs urgent revision:
