A week later, when I still hadn’t heard from him, I went up to his floor. His mixed signals were playing on my mind and I needed some sort of answer. The uncertainty was taking up too much of my brain space. Plus, if he didn’t want to continue things, it would be very embarrassing to see him around the office without at least speaking about it and making some sort of privacy pact. I did some Mission: Impossible–type moving around the sports section, only stopping to look quizzically at a whiteboard that appeared to have some sort of thinly veiled staff sex conquest and ratings system scribbled onto it. When I pulled myself away from it and kept moving, I saw him in the kitchen. I looked around and, seeing nobody near us, went in.
“Hello, stranger,” I said. Ted jumped out of his skin and dropped his mug on the floor.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he whispered, moving me out of the way so that he could look out the door. He closed it and began to pick up shards of broken china. “Why are you up here, Queenie?”
“Why are you so annoyed? I’ve only come up to say hello,” I said, heat flooding my face the way it did when he said something to catch me off guard. At least I was used to it by now. The machinations of a secret office relationship had been tiresome and confusing. So many people that shouldn’t see, so many hands that shouldn’t touch, secret kisses in the lifts, so many coded conversations.
“Yes, but people will talk. Don’t be so stupid,” Ted said. He wouldn’t look at me.
“No, they won’t, Ted!” I said, my voice catching in my throat. “We work together. You weren’t saying this at the Christmas party when you couldn’t let go of me. Or whenever you’ve shown up at my desk.”
He didn’t reply. I felt like an idiot. “Ted, what’s going on? Have I done something wrong?”
“No,” he snapped. “But, look, I’ve got lots of family stuff going on, so I can’t really do this. We’ll chat another time, yeah?” He still wouldn’t look at me.
“It’s fine, we don’t have to chat,” I hit back. “I only wanted to say that I spoke to my boyfriend and we’re going to get back together,” I lied. Ted wasn’t going to make me look like a fool. My stomach tightened as I watched him drop the collected pieces of china into the trash bin and walk to the door.
“That’s good for you,” he said, leaving the kitchen.
THE CORGIS
Queenie
I know that I always say I feel bad, but I feel SO bad
Kyazike
What’s happened now?
Queenie
I just went to see Tweed Glasses to figure out why he was airing me, I thought he was off sick or something, but he was standing in the kitchen, fine as anything, and told me he had family stuff and that he’d chat to me “another time”!
Queenie
He wouldn’t even look me in the EYE
Darcy
What does airing mean?
Kyazike
Like blanking. If you give someone air, you give them nothing. Does that make sense?
Cassandra
Well, yeah? What did you think would happen? You gave him what he wanted.
Kyazike
@Darcy, you should go on a site called Urban Dictionary if you need to know what certain terms mean
Darcy
Thanks, @Kyazike
Queenie
Please can someone take this seriously
Kyazike
Queenie, we all told you about work romance. Not worth it. Take the L and go
Darcy
Okay, so, I’ve just looked that up: “Take the L: Stands for ‘Take the loss.’ Frequently used to describe flunking a test, being dumped, being stood up, being beaten up or robbed, or losing one’s money in the stock market, gambling, or through exploitative business schemes”
Kyazike
There you go
Queenie
GUYS
* * *
I left the office, my two new friends, shame and rejection, binding together before swelling in my stomach, filling my torso. I got the bus to Brixton and sat with my head against the window before I heard the internal voice of my grandmother asking how many dirty heads had been there before mine.
I got off the bus outside KFC and went to cross the road, but stopped when I saw a familiar face sitting in all-too-familiar black BMW at the traffic lights right next to me.
“Hello, you,” I said to Adi, leaning on the rim of the open window, not caring if he found me attractive or not but still hoping that I didn’t look completely shit.
Adi looked up at me. “Fuck,” he said, terror flashing across his face. He faced forward and went to drive away, but a steady stream of people walked in front of the car. He looked at me and mouthed something that I didn’t quite catch.
“Huh?” I asked, leaning down closer to him.
He mouthed again, and I moved even closer. “What?” I asked again.
“Say nothing,” I thought he said, before—
“AH!” I heard a woman shriek. “This must be her, huh?”
I followed the sound of the voice and saw a tiny Pakistani woman jump out of the passenger side. Her hair was as huge as her head and her makeup was impeccable. Her thick, sharp eyebrows framed her doll-like features.
“This must be the big girl, yeah?” screamed the woman who I made an educated guess was Adi’s wife.
She walked around the front of the car and over to me. I looked at Adi for help. “This must be the big kala bitch whose big size fourteen knickers were in your glove box, yeah?” she shouted, grabbing a handful of my twists and yanking them. “I knew it! I’ve seen you when you think I’m not there, throwing stones up at her window, chatting all nice things to her thinking nobody was watching, yeah?”
I grabbed my hair back from her and rubbed my sore scalp, looking around to see if any of my twists had been pulled out.
“Leave it, baby,” Adi said, jumping out of the car. Drivers honked angrily behind him.
“You think I’m dumb, Adi?” his wife shouted, her voice shrill. “I’ve seen you talking to her like you’re brown South London Romeo and Juliet, and you go out late one night and then I find those big XL panties in your car? Thought I didn’t see them, didn’t you?” she screamed. “And you’re telling me it’s not her? And now she’s coming over to your car? In front of my face? Are you both crazy?” She swiped at me, and I ducked out of her reach. I guess karma was here for me; I could hardly fight back.
“I told you I don’t know where the knickers came from, baby, it must be because my friend, he borrowed my car, innit, he’s the one who messes around,” Adi pleaded. “Him and his missus, they had a beef, and he must have checked some girl, baby.” I would have laughed at his terrible lies if I hadn’t almost lost a section of my scalp.
“Which friend?” Adi’s wife asked, her nostrils flaring. I watched, panic keeping me rooted to the spot, as more cars lined up behind, beeping furiously. “If these fat girls are what you like, then be my guest.” She snorted in my direction. “You got me going to the gym every day, and this big bloated kala bitch is what you want?”
I reached down to my soft stomach defensively.
“Get back in the car, baby, come on, let’s go home. I don’t know her, I swear! You think I would choose her over you?” Adi said, grabbing his wife’s hands. “Look at her!”
I watched as they got back in the car and sped off, Adi skidding away so fast that he left tire marks on the road. I looked around, expecting that everyone watching films in the Ritzy opposite would have come out to watch the drama, but instead, people were getting on with their commutes.
Rejection was fine, rejection was a huge part of life—but twice in one day I’d been completely dropped by two men who had really put the hours in to make sure they got to fuck me. When I got on the bus, I googled kala with unsteady fingers.
Meaning black in Urdu, the official language of Pakistan. Refers to any black masculine object.
Bit harsh.
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