“That’s not to say she didn’t look like shit. She’s walkin’ around like a zombie. I don’t even think she hears anything anyone says to her.”
That provided a small measure of relief, but Reece was still concerned. If she was functioning better than he was, that didn’t bode well. That meant this shithole he was currently living in could actually become his permanent residence. And suddenly he understood Christopher’s words.
“She’s fine, isn’t she?” he asked.
“No, she’s not fine. But she’s trying. And you gotta try, too. You gotta get back to work. Focus on some ad campaigns.”
“I can’t see her,” Reece replied. “I can’t face her.”
Christopher sighed. “This is why . . .” And then he caught himself, but it was too late.
“Why what?” Reece snapped.
“Nothin’, man. Nothin’.”
“Why coworkers shouldn’t get involved with each other? Is that what you wanted to say?”
“No, Reece. I wasn’t gonna say that,” Christopher lied.
“Yes, you were,” Reece spat. “And you’re right! This is exactly why coworkers shouldn’t get involved! Now I’m gonna have to find another job!”
“Don’t do that,” Christopher said.
“Why not? It’ll be hell every day of my life working in the same building as her. The same fucking room as her!”
“You don’t have to see her much. She’ll be in her cubicle in the corner, okay? I’ll email her the campaigns to proof. You don’t have to interact with her at all.”
Reece scratched the back of his neck. “I need another beer.”
“Then go get it. I ain’t your maid. It’s enough that I brought over something to begin with.” He watched Reece plod to the kitchen. “But I figured I better. I thought maybe I’d find you in here passed out from starvation. Thought I could shove a chicken wing down your throat and bring you back to life.”
Reece chuckled as he walked back to the couch. He sank into the cushion and cracked open his beer.
“Thanks, man,” he said softly.
“You’re welcome,” Christopher replied.
They fell silent.
“I don’t want any fun stuff,” Reece said after a time.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t wanna work on any fun stuff. If I go back to work—”
“When you go back to work,” Christopher corrected.
Reece nodded. “When I go back to work, I want some serious products to work on.”
“I can’t do magic, Reece. We get what we get. And if you turn baby formula into something depressing, ain’t no woman gonna buy it.”
“Baby formula is depressing,” Reece argued.
“It is?”
“Have you ever tasted it?”
“No, have you?”
“No.”
Christopher furrowed his brow. “Then what the hell are you talking about?”
“I don’t know,” Reece sighed.
Pause.
“You losin’ your mind?” Christopher asked softly.
“Maybe a little,” Reece confessed.
“Well, I know the remedy for that.”
“What is it?”
“A shower, some perspective, and a plan,” Christopher said.
“I’m not ready to see her,” Reece replied.
“Monday. I’m giving you the rest of the week and the weekend to sulk and stink and not brush your teeth. But then you better report to work Monday.”
Reece didn’t respond.
“You hear me?”
“I hear you.” Reece ate another wing. The more he consumed, the hungrier he became, his body begging him to never neglect it again. “I had a chance,” he said suddenly.
“Huh?”
“I was almost adopted.”
Christopher waited.
“It was a couple who couldn’t have a baby, or so the doctor told them, and so they were seriously considering me. Actually, more than that. They’d made it through all the paperwork. I was six.”
Christopher nodded.
“Put my room together and everything.” Reece snorted. “And then she got pregnant. And two kids are too much, you know? They only planned to have one. They only wanted one.” He stared off at the TV. “I have some hang-ups. You understand? Maybe I didn’t fight harder to stay with B— her, but all I could see was that couple trying to explain to me why they didn’t want me any longer.”
Christopher sighed. There were no words for that revelation, and he knew Reece wasn’t looking for them. He reached inside the box and pulled out a wing, extending it to his friend. Reece smiled ruefully and took it.
They finished the chicken wings and beer, talking sports and politics and any topic that didn’t involve Bailey. When Christopher left, Reece went to bed. He hoped she would surface in his dreams, and then he could spend just a little more time with her before the healing in his heart took place. He knew it would. It always did, time after time, home after home. It’s the healing that taped up his construction paper heart, eased the ache, and eventually made him forget.
The mood in the office shifted abruptly. The change was so sudden that it jarred even me, and I was still walking around half-oblivious to everything and everyone. I finally understood the importance of the company policy about dating: it had nothing to do with the couple involved. It had to do with protecting company morale, and right now, there was no morale. There was Marjorie sitting with her face propped in her hands staring at the blinking lights on her phone. There was Christopher caught in the middle of Reece and me: Who do I talk to? I heard him think. There was Dan wondering where the hell Reece’s pizazz went. I actually heard him say it yesterday: “Where’s your fucking pizazz?” he snapped. “This campaign is shit!”