Henry had ended up being really angry about something Sean had done. When I answered the door to him, I didn't even get to say hello before he'd walked past me with the takeaway and angrily hung up his jacket beside the door.
I had been about to rant about Bree, but when I saw his face, that plan went out the window. He was way more upset than I was.
Illustrating this point perfectly, Henry turned towards me and held up his hands. “I am working for an infantile fuck,” he announced. “And I think I am going to kill him.”
Right. I just stared at him; I hadn't seen him this angry in ages. He was normally calm and pleasant and it was kind of shock to see him so red in the face that his veins were standing out on his temples. I supposed it would be really inappropriate to make a comment about boss fights belonging in video games, so I just said, “Whoa. Want to tell me what happened?”
Before he did that, he marched on to my kitchen, took out two plates and began to divide the food between them with the most violent movements he could possibly have made without breaking anything. It was very telling that he wasn't shattering them; they were bone china and I'd broken a few myself just by using them. I actually found it kind of hilarious that even at his angriest, he was still careful not to accidentally break any of my plates.
“I watched him break the law today, Min,” he said, throwing the container away. “Right in front of my fucking face, and knowing I'm the one who has to deal with the consequences of it. And you know what he said?” I mutely shook my head, and he pretended to speak in what I presumed was Sean's voice. “'Oh, you're a very capable man, Henry, I'm sure you'll be able to manage whatever happens'”. It wasn't a very flattering imitation.
He walked sharply over to the table with our dinner and laid it out, and then went back to get cutlery. “Fork or chopsticks?” he asked me, trying to not sound as angry and holding both out for me to choose. I took the fork. He kept the chopsticks for himself, sitting down at the table. Before he started dinner, though, he gave the evil flowers he was facing a bit of a strange look.
"Don't ask,” I recommended. That story could wait for later.
He gave me a strange look, too, but took my advice and just got stuck back into Sean and his dinner. “I can't fucking believe that man. I can't believe him.” He took a mouthful, chewed, swallowed and then said, “No, actually, I can believe he'd do it. Fucker. Jesus, that man is a fucking asshole. He has no redeeming qualities whatsoever.”
I sat down carefully opposite him. I didn't really know what to do because I didn't see him angry very often, so I tried to sound comforting. “Are you okay? What did he actually do?”
Henry shook his head stiffly. “Yeah, I will be okay, but I can't actually tell you what he did.”
I made an 'oh' face, but I didn't push for details. He'd very respectfully not asked me for them about my project, after all. “Okay, then... Is there anything I can do to help?”
He shook his head and took another mouthful, swallowed again and then sat back, running his hand through his short hair and making it all stick up like he’d been electrocuted. “And now I'm so angry I can't even enjoy my Pad Thai.” He looked up at me. “And I'm taking out all of my anger on my poor girlfriend who works at the same godforsaken hellhole as I do.”
I squinted at him. “You are?”
He nodded stiffly. “When you express uncontrollable anger in front of others, it is stressful and potentially traumatic for them.” He took a breath, making a 'calm down' motion with his hands. “So I will try and find a healthier way to express it. Min, I am very angry at Sean Frost for making me so upset that I came directly here to take it all out on you, and I am very angry at myself for transferring the blame when I should be perfectly able to control my own emotions.”
“Those were some excellent 'I' statements,” I told him. “But, seriously, it's okay, I'm not traumatised. I'm just a bit worried about you.”
“Thank you,” he said, still sounding frustrated. “And I'm glad I haven't caused you vicarious trauma. Fuck,” he said, pushing plate away. “This is going to sound a bit weird, but do you have any tracksuit pants that might fit me? I think the solution to all of this adrenaline is to go for a quick run and all I have with me are my singlet and sneakers.”
I only had the one pair that was unisex, and that was the pair he'd left here a couple of years ago that I wore all the time when there was no one around. He'd probably forgotten they were his by now, though. I almost had. “Yeah, I might,” I said, and then went to get them. They did end up still fitting him, and so he put them and his sneakers on and went for a jog in the singlet he wore under his work shirt.
I chuckled to myself as I shut the door. At times I'd really wanted to strangle Jason, so I was completely with Henry about having an infuriating boss. I did feel a bit bad about my reaction to his anger, though; even though he was really upset, I still found him hilarious and entertaining. Poor guy. He was great, I hoped the run made him feel better. He worked too hard to put up with this crap.
On the way back to my Pad Thai, I spotted the scary flowers again and looked up at the clock. If Courtney lived near Parramatta, Bree should definitely be there by now. I took my phone out and went to send her a note, and then remembered that she'd lied to me.
I spent the next 15 minutes with my phone next to my dinner as I ate, trying to decide if I was angry enough not to check that she was okay. In the end my concern for her won out and I typed her a quick note to confirm she'd arrived at Courtney's in one piece.
It didn't take her long to reply. “are u worried about me?? :) :) :)”
I frowned at the screen. “Yes, and I'm not very happy about it,” I told the phone, but I wasn't in the mood to actually reply.
Henry wasn't gone for much longer, but I'd nearly finished my food when he let himself back in. He looked calmer. “That's better,” he said as he staggered into the living area. “I'm going to have a quick shower and then let's kill everything together.”
“Sounds romantic,” I called after him, and went to set up the console.
I didn't tell him much about Bree until we'd called it a night and were lying in bed, because he was finally enjoying himself and I didn't want to stress him out again. Furthermore, when I watched him put on the hoodie that was on my bed, I kept my mouth shut. It was difficult, though. I'd bonded with that stupid hoodie and I didn’t like him wearing it.
Before we went to sleep Henry startled me by making a sudden noise. “Jesus Christ, Min, I'm the worst boyfriend ever,” he said, remembering something. “You got promoted today and all I can do is talk about my problems. We should have been celebrating!”
I laughed shortly. “No, I'm way past that,” I said, and then finally told him about Bree. At the end of the story, when I got to the point where I'd found out that she'd lied to me, he actually laughed. It sounded affectionate, but it was still a laugh.
I must have looked quite indignant because he laughed again. “I'm sorry, Min,” he said, reaching over and rubbing my arm. “I am, really. I know honesty is a big thing for you after high school, but when you said she'd lied to you in that tone of voice I was expecting it to be about something serious and major.”
“Does it really matter what it was about? She lied to me. That's not okay.” He had a familiar expression on his face as he was listening to me which meant he was analysing what I was saying. That sort of stuff may have worked to calm him down but it wasn't how I dealt with my emotions. “And, Henry, if you pull that shrink act on me at this time of night I swear to god I'm going to murder you.”
He sounded like he was smiling. “Min,” he began, pulling it anyway. “Why do you think she lied to you?”
“I'm not playing this game,” I told him, and he was very pointedly silent. “Henry, I know where you're going with this and I'm not going to rationalise it.”
“Of course not. Then you wouldn't have an excuse to push her away and never talk to her again. Why do you think she lied to you?” he re
peated, sounding gently insistent.
I looked at him. He raised his eyebrows at me and I rolled onto my back and groaned. “Fine,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “She was trying to get into my house.”
He didn't stop there. “And why do you think she was trying to get into your house?”
I turned my head back towards him and just glared. “Henry, I get it, she wanted to be friends with me.”
He smirked, looking rather pleased with himself. “Wow, what a despicable human being, wanting to be friends with you. She clearly can't be trusted.” The smirk faded a little and he did a facial shrug. “I don't know, Min. She just sounds like a normal teenager to me,” he said, and then rethought it. “Well, maybe not normal, per se. But what is normal? You obviously enjoy her company, and that's all that really matters. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“She's 17 and she keeps doing things that remind me of that. I'm pretty sure that matters.”
He didn't look convinced. “Seven years,” he said, reminding me of the age difference between him and me again. “Shall I go on?”
“No.”
He chuckled. “Probably for the best. I'm a bit biased about this whole thing with—'Bree', wasn't it?”
Despite the fact I'd said I didn't want to go on discussing it, I couldn't help following up on that one. I looked across at him. “How can you possibly be biased about her? You haven't even met her.”
His humour faded. “Well, you've been here for four years, Min. I'm just happy you're finally throwing down some roots.” He snaked an arm across my middle, smiling. “Really happy, because I love your company, despite our colossal seven year difference, and I want you to stay in Sydney.” He paused. “Although, obviously if I accidentally see you without make-up, I will dump you on the spot.”
I thought back to how boyish I'd looked that morning in the hoodie he was now wearing, and winced.
He saw my expression and his smile dropped straight off his face. “Oh, Min, I'm sorry, I was just joking because I thought it would make you feel better,” he said, sounding a bit panicked as he shuffled closer and wrapped his arms around me. “I didn't mean to say anything to upset you. Shit.” He shook his head. “Sorry, that was really insensitive of me. I'm doing a great job tonight, aren't I? I’m so immersed in my own problems I’m not being very helpful about yours.”
“It's okay, I'm fine,” I said dismissively. “As in, I'm actually fine. Let's just get some sleep.”
He did worry about it, but we eventually got to sleep anyway. Unfortunately, the following morning he had a couple of hours off because he'd been doing serious overtime even by Frost standards, so he left my apartment in the hoodie. I wasn’t prepared for how upset that made me. That was my big, comfy hoodie, and I felt very not-fine about him taking off with it. Especially since my trackies were now all gross and sweaty, too.
I stood in front of my 'weird' amount of make-up—thanks, Bree—and got irrationally annoyed about the whole thing before I remembered that I was an adult and I could actually purchase my own clothes. By the time I made it into work, I’d decided I’d duck down to one of the places on George Street while I was getting lunch. Maybe I could even get some comfy clothes that I wasn't embarrassed to be seen in, too.
On my way into my new office I got accosted by the lead from the Canada project team.
“Mini,” he said, in a voice I couldn't really ignore. I stopped walking and turned to face him as he asked, “Have you finished with the draft layout concept for the website?”
No, I hadn't, and I'd explained why to those guys yesterday. “I won't be able to volunteer for your project because I've been assigned my own team, now.”
He put a hand on my shoulder which automatically got my back up. I looked at it, and then at him. “I know you've got other stuff to do, Mini, but we're really counting on you for this. We even reallocated the budget for design to something else and it's as good as spent. We can’t afford to outsource now.”
You had to be fucking kidding me. “Really, I'm not sure I'll be able to do it.”
He squeezed my shoulder. “We're really going to be in big trouble if you can't finish what you started for us, Mini. It's going to put a lot of pressure on the rest of the team. And, really,” he said, copying the way I'd said it to him, “it's not like you can't fit another design job in on top of whatever boring crap you're doing for the political pitch. Those never need to be flashy.”
I'm a project lead, too, I wanted to say to him. I actually can't fit your dregs on top of my workload, and it's not a political pitch. Fuck confidentiality, seriously. Just fuck it, and fuck my complete lack of capacity to say 'no'. “Fine,” I said, despite the fact it really wasn't. “Give me a couple of days, though.”
He lifted his hand from my shoulder and patted my arm. “Good girl,” he said, and then strode off somewhere on another mission.
I watched him go, and I'm pretty sure I looked disgusted. ‘Good girl’. Was he serious?
That put me in a bad mood, and even Sarah noticed it. “Wrong side of the bed?” she asked with a grin as I walked into Oslo and put away my handbag. One of the other team members looked up and smiled at me. I managed to return it, but it was very difficult.
“Some of the people in this place...” I said to Sarah cryptically; I couldn't really discuss why I was so upset while there were other people around.
She spun her chair around to face me. “What I'm hearing is a great reason to get out of this place and vent to me somewhere else,” she said. “Actually, Rob's going back to Broome next weekend and I was thinking that you and Henry should come on a double-date with us. I think you guys would really get along.”
I shrugged. “I'm sure we would,” I said politely, “but I just accepted another design job because I'm a doormat. I think I'm going to be Red Bull's best customer for the next couple of days.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Why would you do that to yourself?” she asked me, but then said, “But you've got to eat, right? What do you say to Friday night? That way if you need to catch up with some work because of it, you can do it on the weekend.”
I made a face. “Sarah, I'd love to, but I really can't. I'm just too busy.”
“Me too,” she said. “I'm on two teams as well, remember?” When I didn't say anything, she sat back in her chair and considered me for a few seconds. “I'm not going to be able to get you out, am I?”
I sighed. “It's nothing to do with you, I promise,” I said, sitting down in my own chair and switching on the computer. “Please don't take it personally.”
She made a noise. “Okay,” she said, not sounding hurt or upset, which I was grateful for. She then swung her chair back towards her own computer and got back to work.
Not that I really should have expected that much in a single day, but I felt like the team wasn't making as much progress as I hoped they would when I'd been doing the timelines yesterday. They were all hard workers which was fantastic—not that they'd be employed by Frost if they weren't—but I felt like especially the younger guy was really missing the mark when it came to the depth of research required. I'd just have done everything myself, but I couldn't. Not even if I worked 24 hours a day.
I had actually planned to forgo my hoodie-buying expedition because of the extra work I'd taken on, but the oldest team member ended up chucking me out of the office at lunch time, saying I’d kill myself if I didn’t take a break. I didn't argue with him because he was right, but I did spend the whole walk to the shopping centre worrying about being unfit for management. I was so busy stressing about not knowing my own limits that I nearly forgot to grab something to eat, too.
Well, apparently women the world over did cheer themselves up with shopping, so maybe I could give retail therapy a shot.
The store I'd been planning to get my own hoodie from was one of those surfie-type places that all of the beach-tanned blondes always bought all their bikinis and perfectly distressed denim from. I didn't look like I belonged th
ere at all, and two separate sales clerks tried to offer me assistance because of that.
The women's hoodies were in all these pastel colours and some of them had strange embellishments like dead-end pockets or zips that lead nowhere. I wasn't a big fan of anything that wasn't very plain, but I took the last three 'XL's anyway and then went to go and try them on. On the way there, I spotted the men's hoodies hanging in their loose, completely plain glory over on the far wall.
That’s more like it, I thought.
I looked furtively back toward the counter. Fortunately, the girl staffing it was busy doing something tedious and not looking in my direction. Feeling like I was about to commit some sort of felony, I crossed the floor and went to go have a look at what was on the men's side.
The colours were much bolder over there and the majority of the tops there had normal pockets and quite plain prints. I took a blue one from the rack. It was an 'XL' as well, and when I compared it to the women's XLs, they were like baby clothes.
I liked it, it looked really comfy and it was exactly what I was looking for. I held it for a moment. What was the big deal, anyway? There was nothing wrong with me buying this for myself. Women wore their boyfriends' clothes all the time, and men apparently found it cute. So I was buying it for myself instead of waiting for Henry to leave one at my apartment, so what? What was the difference?
I still felt really uncomfortable, though, and I couldn't put my finger on why that was.
“Hi, can I help you?” another one of the clerks asked, suddenly appearing beside me. I forced a smile but didn't say anything straight away. Because of that, she asked, “Oh, you don't speak English?”
I would have actually been tempted to go along with that if it would get rid of her, but I had a feeling she was one of those people who would try and help me anyway even if I pretended to not understand. “No, I do,” I said. “Can I just walk straight into the change rooms or do I need one of those number-tag things?”
She indicated where the rooms were like an air hostess showing me the over-wing exits. “No, you can just go straight in. Also, we’re having a promotion today. If you purchase one of the men’s tops from this range or that wall over there, you get forty percent off men's jeans from the same line.”
Under My Skin Page 12
