'M' is For: [Ch8] A Silver Lining

I had a few glorious months that summer where everything was going well. And then August came around, and suddenly my job went from being a tolerable if not somewhat tedious commitment to an agonizing crucible. Tempers ran hot in the hallways, as though spurred on by the last surge of heat and humidity. Egos were hurt and resentment simmered. Over the course of a couple weeks, two people on my team at work quit without warning. Supposedly my company was looking to fill their positions, but in the interim, I suddenly found myself working late nights and taking on new responsibilities I wasn’t prepared for. Only the promise of the weekend ahead kept me afloat. Just barely.

Then one morning, things finally came to a head.

It started with an ominous message from my boss, Jeb, over our internal messaging system.

Mallory, who approved the post that went out this morning? Jeb wrote.

Feeling my stomach drop without fully knowing why, I pulled up our social media accounts. At a glance, I knew exactly what he was likely referring to: at 8:57 am, our social media publishing tool had pushed out a communication promoting our newest product. The copy featured an older version of the corporate-approved message. I could guess that someone who had mattered had seen it, gotten disgruntled, and put it all on Jeb.

I didn’t even handle our social media. That was Charlene’s job, and she had promised me breezily last week that she’d already updated it. But I wasn’t about to throw her under the bus.

This was scheduled weeks ago, I typed back. Someone must have forgotten to change it.

I watched Jeb begin to type his response, pause, then retype. A few moments later, his message hit my computer.

Room Atlas, now. Bring Charlene.

Slowly, I pushed back from my desk and rose to my feet.

“Jeb wants to see us,” I told Charlene, who sat a couple seats down from me. She glanced up, startled to see my grim face. “It’s about the social media posts.”

It didn’t take long for her to realize what this was probably about. She clapped both hands to her mouth, eyes widening in shock and alarm.

“Oh shit,” Charlene said.

There wasn’t much for us to do but meet Jeb in Room Atlas and let him rail at us for being sloppy and incompetent. He couldn’t exactly threaten to fire us, since we were all that was currently left of the marketing department, and Jeb couldn’t figure out the tools we used to save his life, but he did a pretty impressive job of making us feel worthless.

I’d like to think I held it in, maintaining a stoic face throughout his entire demeaning tirade, but I knew better. With my genes, every emotion was easily written across my every feature and freckle. I could feel my temperature rising, the blood rushing to my face.

This isn’t a big deal, I wanted to shout at Jeb. We can just delete it and repost it! No one follows us on social media, for crying out loud!

But I couldn’t find my voice, and I hated myself for it.

After the meeting, I quickly excused myself and ducked into the first elevator that arrived. Not exactly relishing the idea of breaking down in tears right outside the building entrance, where co-workers were constantly coming and going, I walked quickly to the small park area nearby. Finding an unoccupied bench, I sat down and let myself have a good, furious cry.

Passersby were extremely good at not looking at me, their faces quickly darting over mine as they hurried along to go about their day. That was one good thing about New York City. People were practiced at leaving you alone.

Only…just as I was drying my eyes, I heard a familiar voice say, “Mallory?”

My heart leaped with recognition before I placed it. Looking up, I saw Thomas standing in front of me carrying what was unmistakably an office coffee order in his hands. He was wearing the black-framed glasses from when I first met him. I had almost forgotten that we worked in the same building.

Hastily, I wiped my eyes and plastered on a watery smile. “Hey. Thomas.”

“Are you okay?” Thomas asked, his forehead creasing in concern.

“Um. Yeah. I guess…” His concern touched me as much as it embarrassed me. Despite knowing him as I did, or maybe partly because of it, I felt myself grow tongue-tied. What the heck was I supposed to say in this situation?

“Sorry, you probably came out here to get away from everyone,” Thomas said with a crooked little smile, and I winced instinctively at being so easily read. “Still, since you’re out here anyway, do you mind coming with me to drop these off? There’s something I want to show you.”

Logically, I knew at some point I’d have to go back to work, but the thought of going back now made me nauseous.

“Let’s do it,” I said, getting to my feet and brushing off my skirt. I was rewarded with the sight of a wide, boyish grin blooming across Thomas’s face.

“That’s just what I was hoping you’d say.”

I walked with Thomas back to the building and into the elevator. It was weird to ride up with him past my floor and get off at his instead. I’d never seen his office before, and I looked around curiously. The reception area looked the most different from our floor, I decided. Whereas my office was all glass walls and open floor plans, his had actual walls. The wall behind the sleek white reception desk was covered in fake green moss with the company logo in bold orange and white.

I cooled my heels in the waiting area on a rounded orange chair as Thomas delivered his coffee order.

“Thanks, Pauline!” Thomas said with a smile, waving at the girl my age sitting at the counter. “I’ll be back in twenty. I owe you one.”

“Yeah, sure, no problem!” Paulina said. I could tell from the brightness of her smile that she was absolutely head over heels for Thomas. I didn’t blame her. I wondered if he knew, or if people falling at his feet was a common occurrence.

“Alright, let’s go.” Thomas took my arm. Instead of leading me back to the elevators, however, he surprised me by taking me down another hallway that skirted the main entrance and led past the bathrooms. He pushed open the door to the emergency stair exit and drew me through.

“Are we going where I think we’re going?” I demanded suspiciously.

Thomas grinned at me. “Tell me, Mallory…have you ever been to the roof?”

Stepping from the A/C-blasted office space into the stairwell was like stepping outside again. The stairwell was plain and ugly concrete with a chipped red-painted rail. It smelled like industrial paint mixed in with damp mustiness. It was also completely deserted.

I followed Thomas up the winding flight of stairs.

“I’m pretty sure we’re not supposed to go up here,” I felt compelled to point out as I climbed.

“Yeah, we’re not.”

We got to the top landing and Thomas thrust open the door. I half-expected an alarm to go off, but the building remained miraculously silent.

With the kind of expertise that suggested Thomas had been breaking the rules for a while now, he nudged a loose brick into place to keep the door wedged open behind us.

The roof was just as deserted as the stairs had been behind us. The front and back ledges, where the roof overlooked the streets, were protected by a brick wall that came up just above my waist. I walked to the wall and peered over into the street below. We weren’t so high up that I couldn’t make out the faces of the people below, but it took some squinting.

“It’s nothing on the view from Missy’s apartment, I know,” Thomas said hesitantly from behind me. His concern for my approval touched me.

“It’s perfect.”

A warm wind began to blow, and it felt amazing on my bare arms and legs after sitting inside in the freezing office air. I stretched out my arms, enjoying the sensation. When I remembered Thomas, I saw that he had moved up to the wall beside me.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Worth breaking the rules for?” His lips lifted at the corners.

I grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, definitely.”

“There’s a place we can sit. Come.”

Thomas led me around the structure that opened into the stairs. A slightly weathered looking bench had been pushed up against the wall.

“Why do you think we’re not allowed up here?” I asked, taking a seat next to Thomas. He casually leaned back and stretched out his long legs.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because they think we’ll get up to all sorts of trouble.” Thomas looked at me conspiratorially. “Don’t go sharing this with anyone else, okay? You’re the first person I’ve taken up here.”

“It’ll be our secret,” I promised, and even though there was nothing more going on than a guy being nice to his girlfriend’s friend, I couldn’t help but feel a little thrill.

“So,” said Thomas, “do you want to tell me what all that was about down there? If you think it would help. I’m a good listener.”

I believed him. Thomas had a good listening face, and I knew he wouldn’t interrupt with questions or rush to give empty assurances. Still, I hesitated, unused to sharing my private thoughts.

Starting out slowly, trying my best to be as fair and objective as I could be about it, I told Thomas about the social media posts and the general stress of the last few weeks.

“Maybe I’m the one not getting it,” I finished, almost apologetically. “I do realize that people caring about stuff like this is kind of the whole reason I have this job.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean they have an excuse to be dicks about it,” Thomas said without hesitation. He looked at me soberly. “I thought you seemed like you were under a lot of pressure lately. I’m sorry I never asked.”

I wasn’t sorry, though I appreciated the sentiment. The truth was, hanging out with Missy and Thomas had become my escape on the weekends. It felt good to slip on a different skin and play a different role, even for a short while. Talking about work with them was the last thing I wanted.

“This is definitely not what I thought I’d be doing when I majored in English,” I muttered.

“What did you think you’d be doing?” Thomas asked. I glanced at him, instinctively suspicious, but there was no trace of mockery in his face. Only genuine curiosity.

“I wanted to be a non-fiction writer,” I confessed. “I thought it’d be great to be one of those journalists who got to profile cool and interesting people. Like, people who maybe had this deep expertise we just never even knew existed, or people who we saw everyday but never stopped to wonder what their backstory was.” I laughed self-consciously. “I know, so cliched. Turns out there’s no shortage of people who want to do that, not to mention who can do it better. What chance did I have?”

“I think you’re selling yourself short,” Thomas said. “You have a way of looking at things as they really are, without letting judgment or bias cloud your opinion. And I can’t say that about too many people.” Thomas frowned thoughtfully. “You know, you could still do your interviews and write your articles. On the side.”

I stared at him. At first, when I’d graduated from college, I’d started a couple stories that ended up not going anywhere. Then I moved to New York City, and any thought I’d had of writing my own stuff went straight out of my head. I knew what Thomas was suggesting wouldn’t be easy. But the way Thomas was looking at me, like there wasn’t any doubt of my success, made something inside me stir with the first flutters of excitement. It reminded me of that spring morning so many months ago when I had first met Thomas—a morning filled with the sense of unlimited possibilities.

“Yeah,” I said slowly. “Maybe I could.”

Thomas smiled at me crookedly. “Listen, Mallory, I haven’t known you that long, but it’s pretty clear to me that you can do anything you put your mind to. Don’t let anyone question your worth, and if you ever need someone to be in your corner, you can come to me anytime, okay?”

I felt my cheeks blush furiously at that. I’d never met anyone like Thomas who could just speak so sincerely without the least bit of self-consciousness. Aside from Missy, that was.

“Thanks,” I said shyly. “Really. And…likewise. I’m here for you if you ever need it.” It was an unnecessary offer, I knew, since Thomas already had Missy, but it only felt right to return it.

Thomas nodded solemnly. “Thank you.”

We didn’t stay up long on the roof that first day. Thomas had to go back to work, as did I. But the warmth I felt after our conversation stayed with me, an invisible shield that made the drama of work feel muted and unimportant.

In the end, the whole incident over the posts blew over like it had never even happened. Charlene and I took down the posts with the old copy and got new versions queued up. I helped Jeb prepare an internal-facing explanation for how the versions had gotten mixed up. An hour earlier than usual, I packed up my things and left to go home.

That night, I sat at my computer staring at a blank page on a new Word document. If I could write about anything in the world, anything I wanted, what would it be? For a moment, I was overwhelmed by the undertaking. I wanted it to be brilliant and memorable. But… A new thought bubbled up to the surface. Did it have to be? This was something I was doing for myself. It was more important that I start somewhere, anywhere.

I sat back in my chair and thought back on the last year of living in New York. It had been full of new experiences, not all of them unpleasant. Questions that I had considered and then dismissed as unimportant came back to me, each one a potential lead meriting further investigation. As snatches of memories turned over in my mind, I began to jot down ideas—slowly at first, then with increasing fervor. Anyone reading over my shoulder would have seen a sprawling word dump, but there was something incredibly liberating about seeing the blank page fill up, one bullet point at a time. It was a start...and the beginnings of a plan.

❖❖❖

Despite seeing Thomas regularly with Missy, we hadn’t really talked alone at work beyond a casual greeting whenever our paths crossed. That Wednesday changed all that. We started getting lunch together when our schedules allowed. Sometimes, if he had to do a coffee run for the office, he’d offer to pick something up for me and drop it off. I enjoyed hanging out with Thomas. I had gotten to know him as Missy’s boyfriend, but our conversations allowed me to begin to piece together who he was without her.

“I never finished college,” Thomas told me during one of our first lunches together. Since the weather was nice, we’d snuck up to the rooftop to take advantage of it. “I’d started studying history, but then the cost of tuition was getting to be too much. I’d already landed a couple modeling gigs at that point, so I decided after my sophomore year just to pack it up and go to New York City.”

“And now you’re living the dream,” I said with a smile.

“Oh, it was terrible the first couple years,” Thomas said with a mock shudder. “Sleeping off of friends’ couches, chowing down ramen and Wonder Bread with peanut butter. But yeah, I got lucky. Things eventually started picking up my third year here. I signed to an agency and started pulling in more jobs.” Thomas grinned. “Finally I could afford my current life of luxury.”

I shook my head. Contrary to the first impression Missy had painted of Thomas, I was learning that outside of their relationship, Thomas was scrupulously frugal. Sure, he might drop a hundred dollars on some nice earrings for Missy, but he seemed reluctant to spend any money on himself. I had a sneaking suspicion that during the work week, left to his own devices, he would happily subsist solely on the free black coffee from the office kitchen and the occasional leftover company lunch. Even his clothes were mostly freebies from his modeling gigs. His zeal for thrift stood out in strong contrast to Missy, who breezily spent money without a second’s hesitation.

“So is modeling what you want to do for the rest of your life?” I asked, spearing a forkful of salad.

“I actually would love to go back to school,” Thomas confessed. “Learn how to be a developer.”

“Really?” Whatever I had been expecting Thomas to say, it wasn’t that. “Like, for what?”

“It’d be cool to do front-end stuff. HTML, JavaScript. Building mobile apps would be fun too, though I only know a little bit of Python.”

“Wow, you should! I’ve always been so jealous of people who can code. Don’t they have classes in the city for that? Like General…uh…” My mind blanked.

“General Assembly? Yeah.” Thomas grinned. “Now you’re calling me out on it. I just haven’t actually gotten my act together.”

“Well, just returning the favor,” I said cheerfully. “You should totally go for it.”

Thomas paused to take a drink of water. “Maybe I will…”

We became good friends. I had a couple people in the office that I was friendly with, but it made a difference to know that, just a few floors above me, I had an actual friend I could lean on when I needed to vent. We started texting each other regularly, trading jokes and swapping horrible co-worker stories. I’d always suspected, but now I knew that we shared the same sense of humor and way of looking at things.

I was confident that I was safe from any real romance. In my mind, I thought of the Thomas I was friends with as separate from the Thomas I occasionally dominated and even had sex with under Missy’s guidance. It became an important distinction for me, especially as Missy continued to invite me over to her place for private tutorials and make Thomas a key feature of her book club parties.

Outside of Missy’s explicit invitations, I was careful never to seek out Thomas for my sexual gratification. It was one thing to flirt and be attracted to the man; heck, everyone he passed in the street couldn’t resist darting a quick second glance. But he was my friend, in the same way Missy was my friend, and I was certain that there were some lines that I would never be interested in crossing. My friendship with Missy was just too important to me.