‘Good morning,’ I say brightly as I walk through the main office. There are murmurs of greetings from the troops but, honestly, I could burst into flames and the most they would probably do is move their plants and crack a window. I will not miss this bunch of miseries at all.
Damian’s office door is closed, which always means he is in it, so I sit down at my desk and unwrap my breakfast. With my McMuffin secure in my left hand I open my desk drawer with my right, ready to see what my Post-it from Adam says today. Is it weird that I’ve kind of missed talking to him (even though I don’t actually talk to him) while I’ve been away for a few days?
There isn’t a Post-it today though – there’s an envelope instead. I quickly put down my breakfast and wipe my hands, opening the envelope faster than I’ve maybe done anything in my life. I can’t help but smile. It’s a Christmas card… a Christmas card with the Mona Lisa on the front, except someone has pulled her face into a smile, wrapped her in Christmas lights and plonked a Santa Claus hat on her head.
Inside it reads:
DEAR SADIE, I HOPE THIS CHRISTMAS CARD FINDS YOU WELL – AND ALIVE. I SAW IT AND THOUGHT ABOUT YOU, BECAUSE I KNOW YOU LOVE ART, AND CHRISTMAS, SO THIS FELT LIKE A COUPLE OF YOUR PASSIONS COMBINED. I’M ONLY SORRY IT’S NOT MADE OF CHOCOLATE. ALONG WITH CONFIRMATION THAT YOU MADE IT AWAY FROM A POTENTIAL SERIAL KILLER ALIVE, I’D LOVE TO HEAR ALL ABOUT IT. I KNOW WE’LL SPEAK AGAIN BEFORE WE BREAK FOR CHRISTMAS BUT, THIS IS A CHRISTMAS CARD AFTER ALL, SO… MERRY CHRISTMAS! ADAM XXX.
Three kisses? Three kisses? And in a Christmas card? I don’t want to sound nuts, even though I am absolutely going to – do keep in mind that this relationship has been entirely Post-it based – but surely this is the next step, right? This is the first step towards kicking things up a notch.
I jump up and head over to the other side of the room where I know the leftover Christmas cards are. Damian always has Christmas cards made to send out with a photo he has taken for the occasion – usually something tongue-in-cheek. This year it’s a naked Santa Claus striking a weirdly seductive pose, his modesty only just about hidden by his epically long beard. It’s my job to write Damian’s cards for him, so I know there are a couple left. I realise that using one of Damian’s cards isn’t anywhere near as thoughtful as going out and buying one that I think Adam will like, as he did for me, but this is all I have to hand right now, and I’m so excited to reply. Anyway, I think he’ll find it funny that I’ve used a company card.
I tap the top of my pen on the card as I think about what to write. With all things considered, there’s only one thing for it…
Dear Adam, I am happy to report that I am alive and well – although it was just as nightmare-ish as you would expect, being stranded on a sea fortress with a murderer (I am almost certain of it now) and – even worse – the boss. I’m sad to say it but I think this job might be too much for me now. I’ve actually been offered another job and… I accepted it this morning! It’s going to be weird, not swapping notes with you any more so, what the hell – would you like to go for a drink with me? It can be our own staff Christmas party and my leaving do combined (but we won’t tell the others). What do you say? It would be so great to finally meet you. Sadie xxx
I glance over at Adam’s photo on my desk. I love his big, beaming smile, and the way he clearly adores his mum – it’s just so cute. I would love to meet him, even just to say that I had, but as hard as I try I can’t imagine being in the same room as him. It did cross my mind, from time to time, to try and bump into him here. I figured I could just forget something that I absolutely had to pop back in for, but the one time I tried it he wasn’t even in the office. I later found out he was on holiday, but everyone else found it so weird that I was in on a day when I wasn’t supposed to be – to collect a notebook that I needed (the best I could come up with on the spot). I think they all thought Damian had sent me in to check up on them, and I didn’t want it to become a big, embarrassing thing, so I left it after that. It did feel low-key stalky, which I didn’t feel great about. I mean, what kind of weirdo orchestrates bumping into someone because they sent her a few Post-its? We do have a connection, but better to do things properly, and ask him if he wants to hang out, right? If he feels like I feel, I’m sure he’s going to be just as nervously excited as I am.
17
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. After a few hectic weeks of working for Damian – and doing all of his Christmas stuff like sending out cards and buying presents for his family, which should hopefully arrive at his parents’ house in time for Christmas – I’ve finally had a couple of days free to do some Christmas prep of my own.
Given that I always go home for Christmas, I don’t exactly go hard on the Christmas decorations in my flat. I always get a small, real tree on the first of the month and find a little corner to put it with a few lights and a few baubles. The decorations are just a few random cheap ones I’ve picked up over the years. The Christmas decorations I have that actually mean something to me – my sentimental baubles – are safely at home with my mum and dad, and seeing as though I do always spend Christmas there, I’d rather see them on their tree, at least until I have my own proper home and a family to share them with. Which, come on, does not seem likely any time soon.
What I have done over the last couple of days is my Christmas shopping. While I know that I could do it online, I much prefer to trail around the shops picking up things for people. Well, it’s so easy to just click a few buttons and wait for something to arrive, right? Somehow, knowing that I braved the Christmas madness, queued and then carried everything I bought, it makes it feel as if I’ve really put in the effort, and my parents, my gran, my sister, her husband and my nephew all deserve it.
This is not only my last day in the office before Christmas, but my last working day of the year completely. Well, when you work almost the whole year without taking much holiday, you can give yourself a really generous Christmas break, and while Damian did try and convince me on a couple of occasions that he needed me to help him work between Christmas and new year, I had to put my foot down because it’s the only time I get to see my family properly.
The office has a weird last-day-of-school vibe to it today. I don’t know if Karen and Colin have collaborated but they are both dressed as Mr and Mrs Santa, in outfits so similar that I’m sure they must have come as a set. Ollie is wearing a plain black jumper with small, simple white lettering on it that says ‘Error 404 – Christmas Jumper Not Found’, which is exactly the kind of thing I’d expect from a geeky millennial like him. But while it might seem Scroogey, this is definitely him playing along. Of course, I’m only wearing my regular clothes because no one told me about the Christmas dress code for today, but that’s no surprise – they never include me in anything.
Karen is wearing a long piece of red tinsel like a feather boa. When she spots me walking into the office she hurries over to me with a plate of mince pies.
‘Hello, Sadie,’ she says brightly.
‘Erm, hi,’ I reply. I narrow my eyes suspiciously.
‘Mince pie?’ she says.
‘Oh, erm, thanks,’ I say politely. ‘But, it’s strange, I’ve never really liked them.’
Karen looks almost offended, but she doesn’t let her smile slip.
‘How about you sit on Santa’s lap?’ Colin chimes in.
Oh, God, I’d like that even less.
I just laugh awkwardly.
‘I’d, erm… I’d better get to work,’ I tell them. ‘Can’t keep the boss waiting.’
I go to walk away but Karen steps in front of me.
‘Oh, speaking of Damian,’ she starts. Suddenly I realise she wants something. ‘Any sign of our Christmas bonuses from him? He does like to give them in person…’
Oh, so that’s why they’re talking to me. Because they think I’ll remind Damian about their Christmas bonuses. I could not feel less special right now – the only way this could have made me feel worse is if I were
sitting on Colin’s lap while she asked.
‘I’ll ask,’ I say bluntly as I walk off.
Sure, they’re not people I would usually hang out with in real life (although who is these days, apart from Damian and the occasional drink with Xara?) but it doesn’t feel great to be excluded by them, to see them having a Christmas party without me, and somehow making things worse by trying to include me for a couple of minutes, but only so they can get their hands on their cash bonuses. I wonder if they treat Adam like such an outsider too. I can’t wait to chat with him about it.
Thinking this just reminds me of how much I am looking forward to finally meeting up with him, so I hurry over to my desk, fling open the drawer and… nothing. There’s nothing there. Not a card, not a Post-it, nothing. It’s been a couple of days, and he did say something in his card about speaking again before we finished for Christmas so… oh God. Shit, I feel like such an idiot. He doesn’t want to meet up with me – why would he? I’m just a girl he shares a desk with, someone he swaps Post-it Notes with to pass the time. Why did I ever think it was anything more than that? I’m so embarrassed I can feel my cheeks glowing red.
‘Oh, Sadie, hi,’ Damian says as he walks out of his office. ‘Are you OK?’
‘What? Yeah, I’m fine,’ I reply, maybe a little too bluntly. I mentally remind myself I don’t need to feel embarrassed in front of him; he doesn’t know what a ridiculous weirdo I’ve been. ‘Sorry, just… Christmas stress.’
‘No worries,’ he says. ‘Did you see they’re having a bit of a Christmas thing in there?’
‘I did,’ I reply. ‘They made me a part of it for all of thirty seconds, while Karen offered me a mince pie and Colin borderline sexually harassed me, but only to remind me to remind you that they want their Christmas bonuses.’
‘Those vultures,’ he says with a smile. ‘Well, I have them in here, but… can you step into my office for a second?’
‘Yeah, sure,’ I reply.
I can’t help but feel as if my heart is heavy. The rejection hurts, even if it is someone I’ve never even met. Most of all I just feel so foolish. I’m usually so realistic and, what? Now here I am thinking I can fall for someone because we swapped a few notes? It just… I don’t know, it sounds dumb now, but the connection just felt so real, as if it could go somewhere. But it wasn’t going anywhere at all; it was just stationary.
My mood is immediately lifted the second I step into Damian’s office.
‘What’s all this?’ I ask.
The room is decked out with Christmas decorations and his desk is laid out with food. It’s not unlike the celebrations going on in the main office, except the food looks much nicer here, and it’s just me and Damian.
‘It’s, well, whatever they are doing out there, but in here and much better,’ he says. ‘I even stole some of their tinsel! Oh, and I know you hate mince pies, so these ones are just chocolate and caramel tarts. I’ve had two already – they’re really good.’
‘What’s all this for?’ I ask, still smiling.
‘It’s just like a “sorry I trapped you on a man-made island with a murderer” kind of thing,’ he says.
‘The pursuit of art,’ I say with a shrug. ‘This is lovely though, thank you. It’s really cheered me up.’
‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ he asks me as he points towards the sofa, gesturing for me to sit down.
‘Yeah just… a weird day. I’ll be fine,’ I insist.
‘Well, I’m trying not to be so stressed about work, so some Christmassy stuff seemed like a good idea. I’m thinking maybe if I just loosen up a bit, my creativity will come surging back.’ Damian must notice the look on my face. ‘I know, that sounds really lame and stupid, but anything is worth a try. And, before I go give that lot their bonuses, here is yours. Merry Christmas.’
‘Thanks,’ I say with a smile, opening the envelope. ‘It’s good to hear you so positive. Maybe that is what you need, to just forget about trying too hard, and let things come naturally. You’re so brilliant and you have such a great ey— Oh my God!’
‘Merry Christmas,’ he says again with a big smile.
‘Damian, this bonus is…’ I stare down at it. ‘This is a bonus bonus. This is so much – no wonder that lot out there are desperate for theirs.’
‘That lot get nowhere near as much so don’t go telling them,’ he says quickly. ‘But they don’t work anywhere near as hard as you do.’
‘I bought myself a really good Christmas present, like you told me,’ I remind him. ‘This is too much.’
‘It’s not even close to what you deserve,’ he insists. ‘So, you looking forward to Christmas?’
‘I really am,’ I say, my smile beaming even bigger now. With all this extra money I could stop at a few of the local shops back home and get some really fancy festive food to take with me. ‘Are you?’
‘I guess so,’ he replies. ‘What’s the plan?’
‘The plan?’
‘Yeah, our plan,’ he continues. ‘What are we doing for Christmas?’
‘Erm… I’m going home to see my family. What are you doing?’ I reply. I’m so confused.
‘Oh… I figured I’d be spending it with you,’ he says, rather casually, given what he just said.
‘Seriously?’ I blurt.
‘We do everything together,’ he reminds me. ‘Work together, eat together, hang out together.’
‘Apart from when you have dates,’ I remind him. ‘Couldn’t you get a Christmas date?’
‘I guess everyone is with their families,’ he says with a shrug.
I’m pretty sure we only eat together because we’re usually still working together. It’s not that I don’t feel as if we’re friends, I suppose we are, and I do really care about him but at the end of the day he does pay me.
‘Aren’t you going to see your family?’ I ask. It was just after Christmas last year when I started working for Damian, so I don’t actually know what he does to celebrate.
‘Oh, no, I don’t spend Christmas with them,’ he replies. ‘Didn’t you send presents?’
He looks worried.
‘I did, I just figured you’d be following them,’ I reply. ‘Why don’t you spend Christmas with them? And I saw that invitation to their New Year’s Eve party – I figured they were just being formal, sending you an invitation, not seeing if you’d turn up this year…’
‘It’s a whole thing,’ he replies with a bat of his hand. ‘Could I… could I not come with you? If not, I’ll be home alone and we all know how that movie goes. I don’t have any food in, any ability to cook…’
‘Do you have any friends you could stay with?’ I ask.
‘No… but do single people in their thirties actually have friends in real life?’ he asks. ‘Is that not just a sitcom thing?’
‘I have… a friend,’ I say. ‘Do you really not have anyone?’
I guess we’re both always so busy. And as for Damian, he's so well known, everyone loves him, but he just doesn’t trust people’s motivation for being friends with him. I get it.
I watch Damian’s face change. He must realise how seemingly ridiculous it is to ask your employee if you can spend Christmas with them… and how kind of sad it is too.
‘Sorry, forget I said that,’ he says quickly. ‘That’s crazy. I’ll be fine on my own – I guess Christmas kind of snuck up on me. I’ll be fine. I guess I just forget how much I rely on you, but I’m a big boy, I can spend a week on my own or whatever.’
It’s more like two weeks but I don’t point that out.
When I think about it, Damian’s life is almost as empty as mine is. Maybe emptier. I suppose I’m so focused on my own that I don’t stop to think about his. Sure, he goes on loads of dates, but the relationships never go anywhere, and his phone is always alive with messages, but I think even he is sick of the never-ending series of underwear shots he gets from hopeful models that have somehow got hold of his number. I used to think he gave it out, that he wanted all the a
ttention that he got, but whenever I’ve been with him and he’s opened a message, only to be confronted with a huge pair of fake boobs, he’s always acted frustrated and wondered where they’ve got his number from. True or false, that’s not the kind of girl who is going to take you home for Christmas with her family, is it? The kind of girl who would do something like this is… well… someone who feels incredible guilty over something.
‘OK, well, why don’t you come home with me for Christmas?’ I suggest.
‘What? Really?’ he replies.
‘Yeah, definitely, it will be great,’ I insist. ‘My mum is always cooking for a group of us anyway, there’s loads of room, the Christmas activities are pretty intense but incredible fun. It’s going to be great.’
That’s twice I’ve said it’s going to be great – I'm hoping if I say it enough times it will be true. God, what am I doing, inviting Damian home for the holidays with me? I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know why. I feel guilty. So, so guilty. Not just at the thought of him spending Christmas alone, but also because I’ve been underplaying in my head just how much Damian does rely on me. I really am the only consistent person in his life, the person he’s closest to. Sure, I’m just his assistant but I am always there. I was supposed to be giving my notice today and instead I’m inviting him home for Christmas! How could I give my notice now? After he’s given me a huge bonus, a mini Christmas party, and he’s told me he’s going to be all alone for the foreseeable…
‘That’s amazing, Sadie, thank you so much,’ he says, leaning over to wrap an arm around me, pulling me close for a half-hug. ‘When do we leave?’
‘I’ve got a train ticket booked for Sunday morning,’ I tell him. It’s Friday today.
Stuck On You Page 10
