September 29, 2009

• The Unrequited Office Romance

  It starts this way. There is a project that requires too much time sitting in front of the office window, staring at the Pet Boys shop down below. In the midst of the sounds of cars and motor drills, keyboard typing, cellphones and office phones, and radiation bombarding me from the computer screen, I pushed off my desk and decided I was going to start the habit again.

  I walked towards the office manager’s room, peeked my head in the door, and she knew what I needed as I looked at the box of Marlboro lights. I thanked her and almost walked outside with my cancer stick forgetting one thing. I stopped and peeked in again. “Do you have a light?”
  She points outside the door, “Ryan has it.”

  Ryan. I’ve seen him around the office before but I’ve never talked to him. But on this new project I was working on, he was one of the main players and talking with him was going to be an eventuality. Better now than later.

  I walked over to him quickly and he, not expecting an interaction from me, developed a slightly confused smile on his face.

  “Hey Ryan,” I’ve never spoken to him or said his name before. It had a strange quality to it. “Can I borrow a lighter?”

  “Yes,” he laughed in relief. If you are a smoker, you should understand the easy camaraderie that occurs between other smokers. If not, I can tell you a little bit about my experience. It’s years of five minute vignettes hanging out in dark corners, alleys, or behind trees while staring at the outlines of buildings, following the movement of clouds, or just plain listening to the city din. It is almost always a welcome solace to share this with anybody, especially strangers who can offer you a light.

  He put the lighter in my hand. I think it was that first touch that started it.

  After that came the little conversations in the kitchen, the small talk in the middle of hallways, the recurrent coincidences of smoking in the parking lot at the same time. Sometimes, I thought he would follow me into a room or maybe it was me that would follow him. We would playfully suggest a friendship beyond our daily office interactions. But months passed and the imaginary bar meetings didn’t happen. I was almost getting tired of the litanies of “We should grab a drink sometime,” or “One of these days, you should come over.” Actually, I was more tired of saying “Yes, we should,” and then waiting for an actual day of the week to commit to.

  But then recently, something different happened.

  It was one of those coincidental smoke breaks where we had a definite five minute interlude. Five minutes to engage a conversation, make each other laugh, and maybe, hopefully, set a real date to see each other in the future.

  “Hey, do you have any plans this weekend?” He started.
  I looked at him trying to hide the amazement in my eyes. “Nothing really. Why? What are you doing?”
  “I’m having a party at my house this Saturday. It’s for my birthday. It’s not actually my real birthday because my birthday already happened. But we’re celebrating it this weekend. So you should come.”
  I immediately lit up. “Oh my gosh! Happy birthday! How old are you turning?” I’d always wondered how old he was. This seemed like the appropriate time to ask.
  “24. I just turned 24.”
  “Wow. You’re so young.”
  He heard the disappointment in my voice. “Age doesn’t really matter. What really matters is the way you act, the way you carry yourself, how you treat people. It doesn’t matter if you’re 24 or 38. Why? How old did you think I was?”
  “I don’t know. Somewhere around 28.” It was more like I wished he was 28. But as soon as he told me, I started to see his age on his face; his real age. I think I already knew before he told me.
  “People always think I look older. When I ask ‘how old do you think I am?’ People would usually say 30, 28. So whatever age they guess, I just agree.”
  “That’s one way to live your life. How old do you think I am?”
  “25, 26?” So he knew I was older.
  “26.” I inhaled my last drag and threw the cigarette underneath my heel. The five minutes were up.
  “Are you going to come this weekend?” He asked me as I started for the door.
  I smiled at him. “Maybe. I’ll let you know.”

  To be continued…

  • 4:48 pm
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