This is a Love Story

by Thompson, Jessica

  ‘Calm down, Pete,’ I whispered, trying to diffuse his fury. His lips were twitching and his eyes were watering. A small line of drool was shining on his chin from where he had been shouting. ‘Look, it’s OK. Something went wrong with the printer. I was trying to do something for you, with your photo . . . Just stay calm, all right? I’m going to get it for you now. Just go and sit on the bench and take a few deep breaths, please.’ I was shaking like a leaf now.

  His eyes narrowed as they bore into mine and for a few seconds we stood face to face in silence. ‘The printer? What are you doing with it? Go on, go and get it. But if you don’t come back I swear to God I will smash my way in,’ he threatened, flinging his arm, already loaded with one more can of beer, to his side.

  I dashed back into the copying room and asked Sandra and Dave to give me some space. ‘Sandra, cancel security please, it’s OK. I’ve sorted it out.’

  She tutted and walked away. Dave dashed back into the lift, a look of pleasure on his face.

  I took a deep breath to calm myself, picked up a pair of scissors and cut around the photo carefully. Then I laminated it, trimmed the edges and looked down at the new version. It had been worth it. She was gorgeous, and she was forever now. The plastic was extra tough and sealed securely on all sides. This meant that her memory would not be washed away by the rain, cracked by the frost or faded by the sun.

  The joy of this achievement was greatly overshadowed by the fact that I would probably get into a lot of trouble for this.

  I stepped over the piles of copies lying all over the floor, ran back outside and put the old photo in his hands. He looked confused.

  ‘Look, Pete, I have to go back inside now, but this is for you, OK? Please don’t hate me. I was just trying to help.’

  I placed the toughened plastic between his fingers but he still looked really angry as he pulled it towards his face and stared at it, nostrils flaring. He didn’t speak, so I gently put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed, suddenly aware of how bony he was. ‘See you soon,’ I whispered quietly before turning around to walk away. A squirrel was standing in my path.

  As I reached the doorway, I turned around before going inside. The outline of his back was shaking a little; his head was in his hands. I stood, looking at him for a few moments, when unexpectedly he turned and smiled, tears running down his face. Happy tears.

  I swiped my entry card to get back into reception and walked past Sandra, ignoring her as she shouted at me. I stepped straight into the lift, which was conveniently wide open.

  I stood there for a few seconds, my heart racing, before pressing the button for the third floor.

  As soon as the doors opened, Lydia was there waiting for me. ‘What the hell have you done?’ she asked with a half smile, both hands pressed against her lips as if in prayer.

  ‘Nothing, all right, just leave it,’ I said, tears stinging my eyes.

  Nick

  Amelia came round this morning, a crying, sobbing wreck on my doorstep. At first I thought there was an abandoned kitten in my porch, or a dog with a broken tail.

  ‘What do you want?’ I said, the door open only a crack and the chain still attached as I stood in my boxer shorts. I have always worked by the rule that if a stranger attacked me, I would not want to be just in my pants.

  Amelia was a stranger, really. She looked different. Oh yes, that was it – I didn’t love her any more.

  People do look different when you fall out of love with them. But then again, I wasn’t sure if it had ever been love I’d felt for her, or for anyone in fact. Since meeting Sienna, I’d wondered if all my previous relationships had just been a farce. I had never had that stomach-tingling feeling with anyone before I met Sienna. I had only picked up snippets of what love might be like from Amelia’s pastel-coloured novels piled up by the toilet, mass-produced pop songs on the radio and shitty romantic comedies, and consequently brought the symptoms upon myself like a phantom pregnancy.

  ‘Please leave,’ I said frankly and calmly. I had known she would be back here one day, but I’d never expected to feel so cool about the whole thing.

  ‘But Nick, please, I can explain. I made a terrible mistake and I love you . . .’ She trailed off, putting one of her soft yet bony hands in the door frame in an attempt to reach my chest.

  I did adore those hands. I used to hold the left one up to my face when we watched TV and just feel it against my skin, tracing her nails over my lips. Now I wanted them as far away from me as possible.

  She was poison in disguise. A Barbie stuffed full of explosives. ‘I think you need to leave,’ I repeated, stepping backwards so her hand fell away from me.

  She started to crumple, tears falling like snowflakes from her brown eyes as she dropped to her knees in front of me. Waves of auburn hair fell over her face as she thudded to the ground.

  I felt pretty sorry for her. I scanned the street scene behind her small, shaking frame. This was rather embarrassing, really. God knows what the neighbours would make of it. What must they think I’ve done to her?

  A milkman walked past and glared at me. Mind your own business, calcium kid.

  Quietly and calmly I shut the door on her and walked back down the hall. I needed to leave for work within the hour, by which time she had better be gone.

  I made tea to the soundtrack of helpless sobs outside my window, so I turned up the radio. Chris Moyles was not my favourite human being on the planet, but right now his inane ramblings beat the sound of my ex-girlfriend crying herself into a frenzy in the street.

  The shower failed to wash Amelia away. This was becoming painful and despite how bitterly furious I was with her, I felt like a right bastard. I dressed, went back downstairs and let her in.

  ‘Oh, thank you, Nick. Please, just hear me out,’ she sighed as she stumbled through the hallway like a drunk.

  We sat at the kitchen table, and she traced her fingers over the tablecloth she had chosen all those months ago at Portobello Market. Her nose was pink and swollen; her eyes were bloodshot. She had spoiled it. She had ruined everything.

  ‘Look, I don’t want you to tell me why, or how, or when – or certainly not where—’ I started, but was quickly interrupted.

  ‘It was at his place. I would never have done that in our home, Nick,’ she blurted out quickly, as if that made it all OK. It didn’t, and I didn’t believe her for a second anyway.

  Hunched over, she leaned towards me desperately, her shoulders pulled down under the weight of her shame. And how heavy that must have been. I flinched at the thought of her in some dirty, sexy embrace with him, and slammed my right fist down on the table. The anger was rising thick and fast in my chest, clawing at my throat and suffocating me.

  ‘Just stop, will you? I’ve met someone else. Just take your stuff – all of it – and go. Post your key back through the door when you’re finished, yeah? Oh, and the Radiohead album is mine.’ I got to my feet quickly and stormed out of the house, ignoring the shouts behind me and slamming the door so hard I was worried the glass would crack. I noticed that my hands were shaking. Adrenaline was pumping so hard round my body I didn’t know what to do with myself.

  Of course I hadn’t really met someone else – well, no one that I could call my girlfriend. Yes, I had met Sienna, and granted, I had fallen pretty hard, but it would have been a little psychotic of me to make out that she felt the same, because I was pretty sure she didn’t. But it seemed like the best thing to say at the time.

  I hoped Amelia would be angry at me, just like I was with her. It was the best way to move on.

  The sun was out this morning and the birds were singing; spring was tracing its gentle fingers through my world, changing everything around me. My anger about Amelia started to peel away as I walked, like a snake shedding its skin. I took deep breaths and felt the cool air fill my chest. I wanted to get rid of all this stuff, leave it behind me and start afresh. Alone. Maybe I could just start again. Me, a carefree, single guy. A kind of fresh start
.

  The train journey was quick, smooth and incident-free. I needed today to be simple. I had a meeting with Anthony at 1 p.m., which had been worrying me a little. He hadn’t said what it was about when he called first thing this morning, but he’d sounded pretty pissed off. Maybe I was due a telling-off. To be fair, I had been moping around with a face like a wet weekend.

  A few weeks ago I had drafted some new ideas in terms of graphical direction for our magazines, something to really give us an edge. I felt it was time to pull these out of the hat, and if we were due for crisis talks, I was hopeful about proving to him that I was serious about my career. I would tell him I’d let things slip, but I was on the turn, surfing the wave, and everything would be just fine.

  I was off to a gaming fair in America the next day and I was determined to redeem myself then, even though it would involve me, Tom and the company credit card. It was a huge distraction but I had to resist the pranks and binge drinking, I told myself. Suddenly my head was filled with images of Tom and me passed out and spooning in some luxurious hotel room after a few too many beers. I shuddered.

  I was feeling pretty sick with nerves in the build-up to the meeting, but then something strange happened that completely diverted my attention from the fact that I might be about to be fired.

  Just after midday, some homeless guy started kicking off outside in a big way. No one in the office knew why. He was yelling something about a photo. He was probably drunk, and he ended up throwing beer cans at the windows on our floor, managing to crack one of Ant’s, who was predictably furious about the whole thing. We were all told to stay upstairs while security was called.

  Of course, everyone in the office was delighted. They were huddled in groups, chattering away by the windows and watching as this lunatic rampaged around the car park like an angry bear. I stayed in my office.

  It was pretty short-lived entertainment, however, and by quarter to one the whole thing had died down. Everyone was saying they had seen Sienna outside, calming him down and sorting things out. I don’t know why she had been dragged into it all. It’s a waste of time, to be honest, you can never really help people like that. I think it’s best to just stay out of it. I could tell already that she was one of those good, kind people, and if she carried on getting involved we’d end up with all the homeless and dejected people in Balham sleeping in our cars.

  The hand on the big rectangular clock was just about to hit one, so I gathered my papers and made my way to Anthony’s office. I was nervous, a feeling that had been becoming all too familiar recently.

  As I walked towards his office I spotted Sienna, walking slowly towards me with a shy smile painted across her features. She looked flustered and her eyes were a little pink, like she might have been crying. But she was still beautiful.

  Her movements slowed right down, just like in the films. She was wearing dark blue skinny jeans and a retro cardigan with frills on the sleeves. Her long brown hair was sleek and shiny, tumbling over her shoulders. Yet again, she was holding a cup of tea. I wondered if there was one permanently fused to her hand.

  Our paths drew closer and closer until we both stood awkwardly outside Anthony’s mezzanine floor. ‘Do you want to get past?’ I said, comically extending a gentlemanly arm to let her through.

  She looked puzzled. ‘Er, no. I’m going to see Ant. Why are you . . .?’ she responded, a look of total confusion in her eyes.

  ‘Oh, but I’m due to see him at one,’ I told her, wondering if I’d got the time wrong. Then a cold wave of realisation washed over me.

  She looked at her watch and shook it next to her ear, biting her bottom lip.

  We stood there for a few moments, obviously unsure of what we should do next. Then she broke the silence.

  ‘I think I’m in real trouble, Nick, about what happened earlier in the car park. Shit. Bollocks,’ she said, looking as if she was about to cry.

  I was really confused now. She couldn’t have caused the whole thing, could she? If she had, then yes, she was right. Ant would probably send her packing, to be honest. He doesn’t suffer fools gladly.

  I opened my mouth to speak but I was interrupted. ‘Right, you two, come on in,’ said Anthony, his booming voice reverberating down the small flight of stairs leading to his den.

  He ushered us in with a pair of chubby hands in an animated, impatient fashion, a look of distinct irritation all over his face. Then we stood there for a moment like confused pigeons, legs twitching.

  ‘Well, come on, then!’ he sighed in exasperation. He seemed really angry now. If Sienna was in some kind of trouble about this homeless guy, then why was I being dragged into it? Why was I in this room? It had nothing to do with me. And anyway, the meeting had been called early this morning, before the car park debacle. Maybe she had got into other skirmishes with this guy when I was away and this was the start of a disciplinary that I would have to be involved in. I did technically have middle management status . . .

  Shit. That would be a disaster. Having to professionally punish the girl you fancy. Thanks a lot. My mind started wading through the awful possibilities. What if I eventually had to fire her? That wouldn’t exactly be a great precursor to ‘So, how about a date?’

  Two chairs were positioned opposite Ant’s leather throne, which was so large that I often feared he would one day get lost in it. And Anthony was not a small man. Big in size, big in voice, big in presence. His ears were big, his mouth was big, and even his bones were big, I was sure. At 6 foot 6, he towered over most people he met, and regularly made people jump when he walked into a room (which I had to admit, I found very funny).

  Although Ant and I got on well, he could still inspire a certain terror in me. He reminded me of Mr Blake, an incredibly scary teacher at my school. While we had run circles around the others, chewing gum in class and answering back, Blake used to frighten the hell out of us.

  As well as being chubby, which was his most significant feature, Ant’s head was adorned with a big pile of brown curls that never seemed to be under any kind of control. He had dark, beady eyes and a round snub nose. But despite his booming demeanour, he had a nervous element to his personality. He found lengthy eye contact difficult and he tended to fiddle with things around him a lot, often pulling at the curls on the back of his head when he was thinking.

  I didn’t trust him entirely, but like everyone else I found myself slithering around him like a snake, in case he used his power against me in a moment of rage.

  That was another thing: Anthony was angry. We regularly heard banging from his office on the main production floor as he slammed his fist on the desk, and shouted at some poor minion on the phone. We would just cringe and keep typing.

  He plonked himself down in front of us, small beads of sweat gathering on his forehead from the sheer effort of the treacherous four-metre walk from his door. I was surprised he hadn’t asked for sponsorship. Over his shoulder you could see a huge fissure in the window overlooking the car park.

  Feeling slightly concerned that Sienna might see them, I tucked my ideas behind the clipboard I was holding. I didn’t want her to think I was a brown-nosing loser panicking about getting fired (which is, incidentally, exactly what I was).

  ‘Right, you two,’ Anthony said again, moving a brightly coloured A4 photo frame out of the way and leaning back to reveal an oversized and very satisfied-looking tummy. One of the buttons had come undone, showing a flash of pale skin covered in coarse dark hair. Gross.

  ‘We have obviously had some drama this afternoon,’ he went on, turning towards the cavernous crack in the glass behind him, then looking back at Sienna with a frown. Yes, this was definitely what the meeting was all about.

  She sank down into her chair, looking very guilty. I started to feel the panic rising as I imagined having to fill out procedure sheets and hold a meeting with her in a month’s time to find out if she had learned her lesson, or whatever the course of action in these cases might be.

  Ant started
to speak again. ‘But aside from that, which seems to be sorted out now, we have another problem. Tom called in sick this morning and he won’t be able to make the trip to America.’ He rubbed his chin with one hand.

  I leaned back in my chair and looked down the stairs to Tom’s desk. Of course – his chair had been empty all morning. I’d just assumed he was at a meeting. I was a bit pissed off that it might mean the trip was cancelled.

  But wait. If Sienna had been called in, this must mean . . . Oh, please, say it means what I think it must mean . . .

  ‘Sienna, I know you’re relatively new, but I think you’ve settled in well so I want you to work with Nick on this one,’ he announced. Sienna blushed a little and smiled at me as she put her cup of tea on Ant’s chunky wooden desk.

  ‘Sienna, I want you to create a series of articles for a ten-page supplement for Digimax on the annual gaming fair in Florida. Nick will be the man behind the illustrations and photographs. How does that sound?’

  Silence filled the room as both our original assumptions were blown out of the water and replaced with something utterly wonderful. I wanted to break this silence like a small child. I wanted to punch the air with delight, leap onto my chair and ruffle my boss’s hair with joy. The man who I’d previously viewed as a fat obstacle to my happiness was now worthy of carving into a statue and worshipping. He had gone from nagging me, making girls cry, and keeping us in late, to setting me up on a work trip with one of the fittest girls I’d ever seen . . . I wanted to run over to Sienna, pick her up and jump onto the plane with her now. My head was suddenly swamped with images of us waking up in a hotel bed together in one of those ‘whoops’ movie moments, where everything is sexy and turns out to be OK, and not shit, like reality.

  Sienna looked flattered. Overcome. Delighted, even. But still, neither of us managed to actually speak.

  Maybe I could take her on a date on the trip. The possibilities flooded my mind and I immediately told myself off because it was against my new ‘colleagues + relationships = bad’ rule.