3
3
James has to take two elevators to go from the garage of his job building up to his office. His boss, Caradoc Dearborn, is already there along with other of his colleagues scattered in the big room. James greets all of them and goes to his working station, putting his coffee mug on the desk and proceeding to turn on his computer.
One by one, the other colleagues join too, cheerfully greeting and starting their jobs.
“Hi, James!” Valentina says when she sits at her desk near James. Her working station is pristine, with only her computer, a pencil-holder cup and a little yellow rubber duck that sometimes she squeezes in her hands while working. James’s is much messier, but there is still an order to his chaos: some little post-its are attached around his computer to remind him what he has to do, a few pictures of his parents and friends - because he’s a sap like that - some pens and pencils scattered in a corner and a few paperclips. Steven’s desk is the worst and none of his colleagues understands how he can work in that chaos. But everybody has their own way.
“Hi, Valentina! How are you?”
“Good, thanks. You?”
“I’m fine”, James replies with a smile in her direction.
He loves his job and his colleagues, he’s glad he’s found an accommodating workplace with nice and kind colleagues and an even nicer boss. They are a small team - there are only twelve of them - working in the videogame field. It’s a small company, not famous as the major ones probably, but they have a good reputation in England and high profits. They all know how to work in a team and how to put together their skills. It’s uplifting, really, and there has never been a time when James got home stressed out. Or well, maybe there have been a couple, but not because of the people working with him.
He found this job as soon as he graduated two years ago and it’s been going all well.
James opens the programme on his computer to fix the eventual bugs and problems of the last videogame they produced and decide whether it needs updates or not; coding and programming are his expertise after all.
The morning goes smoothly, they gather together to analyse how their newest release before Christmas break went on the market - pretty good overall and is still selling - and check the reviews from their customers. The majority of them are positive with some of them being a bit critical but, James ponders, people sometimes criticize just for the sake of complaining.
Of course, they take the best critical and constructive reviews to improve their work. One of the best comments they received from the people is that their company listens to their customers’ needs and desires, which is not something to take for granted. Some videogame companies, even the biggest and most famous ones don’t care about their customers, eager to make as much money as possible.
At some point, while sipping his coffee, he takes out his phone and checks the messages.
There is a new text from Regs which he goes to read immediately. And no, he won’t admit that he feels a surge of excitement setting in his stomach.
Regs: don’t use my words against me. You might regret it.
James: oh, planning on murdering me?
Regs: can’t say that, it would be a crime admission. But you might look out from your windows tonight.
James: uuuuhhh naughty. Don’t make me too excited.
Regs: you are crazy, you know that? I could really murder you.
James: what can I say? I might have a thing for murders.
Regs: or you just watched too many crime shows. Is your favourite tv show Hannibal?
James: naaah, not my style. Don’t like all that blood. And horrors make me really sick.
James is vaguely conscious that Valentina is throwing him glances from time to time, but he doesn’t bother to hide the little smirk tugging at his lips.
Regs: so, let me get this straight. Crazy, a jock who wakes up at ungodly hours to train, has a thing for murders but doesn’t like horror movies. What else should I know?
James: wow! You kept a list of my qualities. I’m flattered.
Regs: bold of you to assume these are qualities.
James: what else should they be?
Regs: signs of mental instability.
James: hahaha you are fun.
He has to put down the phone when Caradoc comes to his desk to ask his opinion about something. His boss doesn’t really mind if his employees text or make phone calls during working hours as long as they do their job and respect the deadlines. He is also very adamant about free hours and such. Normally, they work from nine a.m. to six p.m., but they can come later or leave earlier if they have to, warning slightly beforehand, and if they want to work from home, well, they can also do that. Probably perks of having a younger generation boss who understands the importance of a good work-life balance and that putting stress on his employees and demanding too much of them won’t do anything good to anyone. It’s rare, something like that. James is very conscious of his privileges. Especially as a disabled person.
When Caradoc leaves, James returns to his phone.
Regs: if you knew me you wouldn’t say that.
James: you forget that I don’t judge on first impressions ;)
Regs: I wouldn’t consider that as a quality.
James: hmm dunno.
James tries to do some more work, but his eyes keep falling on his phone, expecting a new text that doesn’t come. He wants to ignore the small disappointment clenching at his stomach.
He and Valentina work silently all morning and, when it’s time for lunch, some of them go to the small break room, some go out and some go home. James is one of those who remain, having brought his lunch from home.
“Hey, James!” Frank greets him when he sees him wheeling into the break room.
“Hi, Frank!”
“How are things?”
“Pretty good. You and Alice? And little Neville?”
“Oh, they are all fine. And little Neville is a menace now that he can walk by himself”.
James chuckles while Frank turns to the microwave to take out his heated food. Frank Longbottom is not only his colleague but a friend too, only a couple of years older; they hung out sometimes, Frank met his friends, and he also married Alice, James’s basketball teammate. Neville is their kid who turned one last summer.
“Walking, hah? Don’t know what that is”, James jokes, pulling out his food.
Franks looks at him with a smirk, sitting at the table.
There was a time James couldn’t joke about his disability and he would get mad eveytime he heard something that grated on his fragile nerves. Yeah, he isn’t proud of that. But he can joke now and he likes humouring people about it. It’s easier this way.
“Is he already running?” he asks Frank.
“Yeah, sort of. But he also falls a lot so we have to be careful and follow him everywhere, much for Alice’s joy”.
“I can only imagine”.
They both laugh and start eating. After a while, Steven and Hestia, the girl that keeps their accounts in order, join them at the table.
Still, no messages from Regs.
“Excited for the game?”
James looks up from his phone at Frank with a distracted frown. “Hmm? Oh yeah. Is Alice?”
“She’s been talking non-stop about it. Said the Quaffles are your worst rivals”.
James chuckles. “They beat us two times already, so we are a bit nervous about the game, but… it’s okay”.
“I’m sure you’ll win this time”.
“Three is a lucky number, right? Let’s hope we win this time”. James lifts two fingers in victory and proceeds to put away his lunch box.
The afternoon is much more boring and slower at passing.
~•~
When James gets back home there are no messages from Regs. He gets in the shower, puts on a pair of loose buttons and a t-shirt and still no messages from Regs.
He starts preparing dinner and eats it, does the washing up and laundry, puts away some records that have been piling up on the tv support for some time.
Still no messages from Regs.
He prepares a grocery shop list for his mum who offered to do it for him.
No messages from Regs.
Sits on the couch.
No messages– Okay, that’s enough.
His group chat is flooded with texts from his friends.
Mary: gosh, had the worst date ever
Marls: you said it also the last two times. Or three?
Mary: no no, this is worse.
Dorcas: worse than the guy looking like your dad?
Lily: or the one who had a butterfly fetish?
Pete: I remember that one who couldn’t shut up about his hair.
Mary: oh yeah! I think I am still blinded by how blonde it was. I still have some spots in my vision, I swear.
James: what did this poor bloke do?
Sirius: yes, Mary, you have to spill it out.
Lily: do not spare us the details.
Mary: first of all, he forgot his wallet. And okay, it can happen. I don’t mind paying, not even on a first date because I am a progressive, equal-rights supporter woman in all senses. But I don’t know, it’s just a bad sign. Your wallet is the only thing you have to check before you go on a date.
Lily: right.
Dorcas: agree.
James: I could be the one who forgets their wallet on the first date :(
Lily: I know, Jimmy Jam ;)
Sirius: we know, Prongs.
James: >.<
Marls: please, Mary, do go on.
Mary: well, I paid for our drinks and the toasties we ordered. But then he offered to go to that little gallery nearby that was exhibiting a temporary show of Georgia O’Keeffee’s paintings and I agreed because I was interested but then, a few moments before we arrived, he told me there would be a ticket to pay and… Like, who does that? I mean, you forgot your wallet, and that’s okay, it can happen, but then you don’t just straight up offer to go to an art exhibition if you don’t have money on yourself. I didn’t want to be rude so I just went on with it. And then, it only got worse.
Lily: oh my God!
Marls: I’m afraid to read.
Sirius: plot twist.
Remus: shush! Let Mary speak.
James gets himself more comfortable on the couch, ready to know more about Mary’s latest date. She always has these strange stories about the guys she hangs out with.
Mary: he kept criticizing every fucking painting. And when I say every, I mean every. Every little detail. Colours, shadows, lines. He straight up declares that he hates O’Keeffe’s paintings, especially the ones with flowers resembling vaginas, and he finds them vulgar and offensive and thinks that this kind of art shouldn’t be displayed. Then he proceeds to explain how women and their vaginas are so precious and pure and that women shouldn’t give their virginity to any man but wait for the right person, and if it’s after marriage it’s better.
Lily: oh my God!
Dorcas: please, tell me you didn’t put up with that all evening.
Mary: oh no, I made up an excuse. I told him that my yoghurt was going to expire and left him there. Didn’t even wait for a reply. I blocked his number.
Peter: I apologize on behalf of men.
Mary: you know what’s worse? He ruined the experience. I was looking forward to seeing the exhibition, but now I can’t not think about all of it.
Marls: oh, Mary, we can go together next time. I wanted to see it too, so we can make our own beautiful experience.
Mary: sure, Marls. As soon as I recover from this experience. I think I am on my way to hating men. At least for a couple of hours.
Sirius: :( :(
Mary: oh, Sirius, you know you and the guys are the exceptions.
Sirius: :) :)
James: suddenly, the butterfly bloke doesn’t seem too bad.
Remus: butterflies kind of look like vaginas.
Mary: please, Rem, don’t talk about vaginas, flowers or butterflies for about two days at least.
Remus: I’m gay as one can be, I don’t want to talk about vaginas.
Lily: you know what you need, Mary?
Dorcas: don’t say a party.
Lily: a party!
Dorcas: here we are.
Marls: yay!
Remus: aren’t you all warn out from New Year’s Eve?
Sirius: shush, Moony! Don’t need an old grandpa telling us when to get to bed.
Remus: Pads, I remember you saying that you were going not to touch any alcohol this year after the hangover you had the next day of the New Year’s party.
Sirius: did I? I don’t remember that. You must be hallucinating.
Remus: -.-
James: I’m with Lily. We should have a party. So Mary can forget about the caveman.
Mary: oh, thank you, Jamie. I can always count on you.
Lily: your house, Jamie?
James: my house is always open for you, guys.
Lily: deal. Bring the booze!
Another notification pops up on James’s phone and when he sees that it’s a new text from the stranger-not-stranger, he immediately switches the chat.
Regs: just passed by in front of a gym with a bunch of people doing some dumb workout. Tried to peek in to find your face.
James: ooooh, you’ve been thinking about me <3
Regs: don’t flatter yourself. It was for the sole purpose of insulting you in person.
James: so lovely.
James: hey, how would you know what I look like?
Regs: looking for someone with an idiotic face shouldn’t be that difficult.
James: such a joy you are… hahahah. And were you successful?
Regs: naaah, got tired after a few moments. Didn’t want to waste my night like that.
James: hah! Good for you, you wouldn’t find me. I am comfortably sitting at home. See?
James takes a picture of part of his living room and sends it to Regs. Probably not the smartest move but he feels bold tonight.
Regs: oh, another clue to help me find you and kill you.
James: always eager to help ;)
Regs: is that your stereo???
James: yep!
Regs: please, don’t tell me you blast the music annoying your neighbours.
James: sometimes, when my friends come over ;) never received a complaint from the neighbours. They actually love me.
Regs: or maybe they are just pretending to lead you into a trap.
James: thank God we are not neighbours.
Regs: who knows? I might be and this is all, indeed, a trap.
James: oh, so are you the old lady who lives in front of me with seven cats? Or maybe the middle-aged man who talks with his rose bushes from a couple of houses below?
Regs: if I told you then the plan would be ruined ;)
James ponders for a bit considering the entire topic. He doesn’t know who Regs actually is, they are a stranger, no matter how much they’ve talked, but he is confident that it’s none of his neighbours. Besides, there is nobody that young in his neighbourhood, only elderly people or families with little kids. Unless, Regs lied about his age, but James doesn’t think so. It’s just the feeling in his guts, to trust this person.
Sirius’s name appears on his screen and James clicks on it.
Sirius: where did you disappear?
Right. He’s been so caught up with texting Regs that he forgot the chat group with his friends. He reads quickly what they have been writing - organizing the party, deciding who would bring what and bickering about something dumb - and seeing that there is nothing important, James replies to Sirius.
James: sorry, just lost some time in the bathroom.
He is not sure why he is lying to Sirius. They usually don’t have secrets and can be honest with each other, but for some reason, he feels like telling him that he’s been texting a stranger for a few days wouldn’t be a great idea. Sirius would worry, for sure. And also, James wants to have something that is only his. If it ever becomes more important, then he will tell him. He will tell all his friends.
But it won’t. It is stupid just to think about it.
Sirius: okay. Mary and Lily lost their shit again. Hahahaha.
James: I saw. Who is going to tell them?
Sirius: not me, mate. Not me. You might tell Lily. You’ve been together, she listens to you.
James: that’s not true and it was even less true when we were together.
Sirius: she won’t punch you.
James: you are saying this just because I’m in a wheelchair.
Sirius: well, beating a dude in a wheelchair would be too much even for her.
James: you can’t use the wheelchair card against me.
Sirius: I can and I will.
James: tosser.
Sirius: idiot.
James feels a surge of fondness settling in his chest at the thought of who else called him idiot and he can’t but exhale a sigh heavy with many many emotions and thoughts, the majority of which he still hasn’t understood properly.
***