A moment of consolation

“You can’t suspend people for having a verbal fight in the office; people fight all the time,” I point out. ILLUSTRATION| JOSEPH NGARI

What you need to know:

  • “You look relaxed,” he says when I open the door.
  • “What did you expect?” I ask him as I pick up my handbag and step out.
  • “I don’t know… red eyes and a snotty nose and puffy face from all the crying you’ve been doing,” he teases. I laugh.

In the comfort of my house, I take a minute to reflect on the day’s happenings. That fight with Ciku was not the prettiest of things to witness. A part of me does not ever want to go back to the office again. As I am mulling over things, my phone rings; it’s Chris. I pick up slightly unwillingly, but feeling obligated to.

“Look, I am really sorry about the way that went,” he kicks off, no salutations included.

“It’s fine,” I shrug. “I mean, it’s happened; what can we do?”

“Don’t worry about that; I’ve detailed the goings on to HR and asked them to take action. I expect she’s due for unpaid suspension.”

“You can’t suspend people for having a verbal fight in the office; people fight all the time,” I point out.

“That was an attack on you – and there is no assurance that she won’t keep attacking you without provocation in future. It’s your safety I am worried about. Anyway, I’ll leave it to HR to deal with. I just wanted to call you and apologise.”

“Alright, thanks,” I say dryly.

“Where are you?”

“At home licking my wounds,” I say morosely.

“No, no, don’t do that. Let me pick you up and take you out for a meal or a drink or something.”

“And make it look like the rumours are true?” I snort. “No thanks.”

“Do I look like I care what people think?”

“I might,” I tell Chris.

“Well, ignore them. People will talk anyway. I am concerned about you and I will pick you up in about half an hour.”

It looks like I have no choice, and so I acquiesce and hang up. Then I consider changing in something less office-like… except I don’t want to act like I am on a date or anything. And so I freshen my makeup, which takes up all my time until Chris rings my doorbell.

“You look relaxed,” he says when I open the door.

“What did you expect?” I ask him as I pick up my handbag and step out.

“I don’t know… red eyes and a snotty nose and puffy face from all the crying you’ve been doing,” he teases. I laugh.

“Hardly,” I tell him. “Shall we?”

In the car, we settle for a pub meal and drinks and make our way to a nearby shopping mall that’s got a lovely pub inside. Once settle in, I order a vodka cocktail and sip as I watch Chris decide between a variety of expensive whiskies. Once he’s placed his order with the waiter, he turns to me and gives me an intense look.

“I know my coming back has not been easy, given all the circumstances and everything that’s happened in the time that I have been away.” I nod. He continues, “and I just want to say, if there’s anything I can do to make things easier for you, just let me know.”

“Like what?” I ask.

“You think about it and let me know,” he says.

I look away, thinking about all the things I have been through recently – Bertha, Ciku, Louise, Steve, Fatma… It’s all been one big, messy circus. Maybe it’s time to remove myself from the scene of the crime, so to speak.

“Meanwhile, today, let’s just have a good time and try to forget about everything, ok?” Chris says, reaching out to grasp my hand in a reassuring manner. I nod, paste on a smile and do my best to act like it’s all behind me. By the time we are done with our meal three hours later, I am exhausted from all the effort. Chris drives me back to my house in silence, and we say a perfunctory goodbye.

In the privacy of my house, I suddenly feel the relief of not having to play a role any more. Sighing deeply, I head into my bedroom to take off my makeup and prepare for bed, which I crawl into gratefully, happy to have respite from it all for once.

But the sleep refuses to come.

After what feels like hours and hours of tossing, turning and applying every sleep aid I know, I give up and pick up my tablet. I flip through my social media pages, and eventually end up in my LinkedIn page, where a job vacancy immediately catches my eye; it could provide the answer I am looking for.