Choosing Her Lover

*****

It’s Friday afternoon; the absolute busiest time when every man and his dog are trying to get everything done and finished as soon as possible so they can finish early for the weekend. With a constant stream of deliveries, couriers and other visitors, I can barely keep pace with everything that is happening and am beginning to think that I may have to call for help to handle everything.

And just as I am redirecting a delivery to the service lift instead of the staff elevator, the doors open and in walks my sister Erin, makeup blotchy and mascara smeared. Very obviously she has been crying and is not too concerned about showing it. Normally Erin looks after herself and is much prettier than I am, but right now, she looks dreadful and I see heads turn as visitors try to divine the problem with this out-of-place stranger.

Having sent the delivery man on his way, “Erin! What on earth’s the matter? What are you doing here?”

I try to hug her, lead her off somewhere quiet, but yet more visitors pour into the lobby, all demanding my attention.

Erin stands in the corner, and I eye-point her to the coffee machine, trying to get her to look anywhere except into the stream of visitors.

She’s all big brown eyes, and that mop of dark curls she has always looks huge on her, more so in her elfin body. Whereas I am tall and statuesque, Erin is a pixie.

Working as fast as I can, I try to deal with the arrivals, channel them away to their destinations, but more keep arriving.

Finally, I get rid of the lot of them and turn back to Erin, when to cap it all, the front doors glide open and in walks Ben. Trying to maintain my cool. “You were told you’re not allowed here, Ben. Please leave.”

“I want to talk to you, and I’m returning your bag. It was in my car that evening up at Michael’s place.”

“Yes, when you abandoned me and left me without even the money for a taxi. I’d have been in real trouble if Michael weren’t a very decent man.” I snatch the proffered bag from his hand. “And you can’t talk to me here. Even if I thought I had anything to discuss with you, I have no authority to let you into the building. So, please go, you can see I’ve got my hands full, can’t you.”

His gaze finally transfers to the sobbing Erin in my arms.”

“Why’s she crying? What’s wrong?”

“As you already know, Erin’s broken up with her boyfriend. And, as you can see, she’s very upset. I simply can’t handle my job, her and you all at the same time. Now Ben, please leave. If anyone sees that I’m letting you stay here, I’m risking my job.”

“Too late.” comes a voice from behind me, grit in the tone.

I startle and swivel to face the lean-faced James, looking down at me, his expression austere. “As you know, Kirstie, I gave strict instructions that Ben was not to be allowed in the building. Why is he here? I don’t expect to repeat myself, especially to the most junior of our staff.” Then he peers around at the weeping Erin. “And who’s this?”

into a good afternoon. “I’m sorry, Mr Alexanders. This is my sister, Erin. And she’s very upset because her boyfriend just dumped her. I was trying

Why is he here after

why don’t you let me take Erin home for you? I can make

weeping sister in the care of this man

what do you think I’m going to do?” he demands. “She’s upset because her relationship’s

I ask “Erin, would you like Ben

James pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, offering it to her. She blows, loudly and

used and rather moist hanky. “Consider it a gift,” he says, his

on, Erin. I’ll take you home. It’s not so far is

around her, tenderly and walks her out of the door. “My car’s not far away. Let’s get you somewhere quieter, and we can

shaking his head. “Just goes to

“True.” I nod.

*****

My phone pings….

smells of you. I wish you were in

*****

a party of school children, filling their entry forms, directing them to the Public Relations section where they are to be given a tour of the building and a

falls over me. I glance up,

Again….

I sigh.

to be looking for trouble, having the kind of ‘freshly-scrubbed’ look that suggests he has just had a

What…? Embarrassed? Shame-faced?

many times must you be told? I cannot let you stay here. You

“Kirstie….”

he’s the kind

can spare me five minutes….” There is a kind of pleading

I tap at my phone, deliberately putting it onto loudspeaker. “Francis…. I have Ben Summerford here. He is asking if Mr Alexanders can spare

a pause, replete with unspoken comment, then “Hold on, Kirstie. I’ll have

uneasily, shifting