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My Coworker Had a Fever and Called Me at 2 A.M.—"You're the Only One I Wanted to Call" — Transcript

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0:00My phone went off at 7 minutes past 2 on
0:02a Tuesday morning, and the name on the
0:04screen was Rebecca Sloan, the woman who
0:06had worked at the desk beside mine for
0:07almost 2 years and had never once called
0:09me. Her voice was thin and scraped raw.
0:12She said she had a fever, that she
0:14couldn't stop shaking, and that she was
0:16sorry for waking me. I asked for her
0:18address, pulled on yesterday's jeans,
0:20and stopped at the Allnight Pharmacy for
0:22fever reducer, electrolyte drinks, and a
0:24quart of chicken rice soup from the
0:26diner next door. 25 minutes later, she
0:28opened her apartment door wrapped in a
0:30gray comforter, her hair damp against
0:32her forehead. When I set the bag on her
0:34counter and touched the back of my hand
0:36to her cheek, she closed her eyes and
0:38leaned into it. You're the only one I
0:40wanted to call, she said. My name is
0:42Miles Ror, and I coordinate inventory
0:44for a regional food distributor, which
0:46mostly means I know where things are and
0:48who should have them. Rebecca
0:49coordinates orders, so our jobs meet
0:51somewhere in the middle, and so do our
0:53desks. Our whole friendship had been
0:55built in that narrow space. I would
0:57offer to pull a report for her and she
0:59would tell me she was perfectly capable
1:01of losing her own spreadsheets and then
1:03she would usually let me do it anyway.
1:05She was the person who carried her own
1:07boxes, drove herself to the airport at 4
1:09in the morning and once finished a
1:11quarterly reconciliation with a sprained
1:13wrist rather than ask anyone to type for
1:15her. That was why the sentence landed
1:17the way it did. It wasn't vague
1:19gratitude and it wasn't a joke. She had
1:21picked one name out of everyone she
1:23knew, and it was mine. I didn't ask her
1:25what she meant. I found the thermometer
1:27in her bathroom cabinet, and it read
1:29103.1.
1:31She was steadier on her feet than she
1:32had sounded on the phone, but not by
1:34much. I walked her to the couch and got
1:36two tablets and a full glass of water
1:38into her before I did anything else. She
1:40looked at the pharmacy bag and told me
1:42I'd bought the expensive electrophilite
1:44drink, the one with the cartoon lemon on
1:46the label, and that I was clearly trying
1:48to impress her. It was the kind of thing
1:50she said at work 20 times a day, but the
1:52timing was off and her voice gave out
1:54halfway through it. She seemed to notice
1:56that, too, because she stopped trying. I
1:58heated the soup in a saucepan I found
2:00under her stove since her microwave was
2:02buried beneath a pile of unopened mail.
2:05When I brought it over, I expected one
2:07more objection. Instead, she held the
2:09bowl with both hands and ate slowly, and
2:11she let me take it back when she was
2:12done without saying anything clever
2:14about it. Somewhere around 3:00, she
2:16told me why she had called. She had
2:18woken up with her heart pounding and her
2:20whole body shivering. And for a few
2:22minutes, she couldn't tell whether it
2:23was the fever or something worse. She
2:26said she had stood in her kitchen
2:27holding her phone, scrolling past her
2:29sister in Denver, past two old college
2:31friends, past our manager, and then she
2:33stopped scrolling. I didn't want to
2:35explain myself to anybody, she said. I
2:37just wanted you to come. She said it to
2:39the ceiling rather than to me. Then she
2:41pulled the comforter up to her chin and
2:43fell asleep before I could decide
2:44whether I was supposed to answer. I sat
2:47in the armchair across from her for the
2:48next few hours with a cool washcloth,
2:50the thermometer, and a running note on
2:53my phone about when she could have her
2:54next dose. That part came naturally to
2:57me because tracking quantities and times
2:59is half of what I do all day. The harder
3:01part was everything going on underneath
3:03it. I had liked Rebecca for months
3:05longer than I'd admitted to myself. I
3:07liked the brisk way she cut through bad
3:09meetings and the rare moment she quietly
3:11covered for someone else's mistake
3:12without letting them know she'd seen it.
3:15I had never acted on any of that because
3:17two adjacent desks leave very little
3:19room for misreading someone. Now, she
3:21had told me something that sounded a lot
3:23like an answer to a question I'd never
3:24asked. She had also told me with a fever
3:27over 103, half awake in a comforter at
3:303:00 in the morning. Whatever those
3:32words meant, they weren't something I
3:33could take with me when I left. She woke
3:35up a little after 4 and asked for water,
3:38and then she asked what time it was. I
3:40told her, and she groaned and said I
3:41should go home and sleep. I said I would
3:43think about it, which we both understood
3:45meant no. For a while after that, we
3:47talked quietly about nothing important.
3:49She asked whether I really ate the same
3:51turkey sandwich every day or whether I
3:53owned a stack of identical ones in my
3:55freezer. I told her that a man who has
3:57found a good sandwich has no reason to
3:59keep searching. She smiled at that, but
4:01she didn't follow it with a comeback,
4:03and the silence that came afterward felt
4:05easy instead of awkward. At one point,
4:07she reached over and rested her fingers
4:09against my wrist just for a moment as if
4:11she were checking that I was still
4:13there. Then she asked me to stay until
4:15it got light, and I told her I hadn't
4:17been planning to leave. By 6:30, gray
4:19light was coming through the blinds, and
4:21the thermometer read 100.4. Her color
4:24looked better, and her hands had stopped
4:26trembling. I sent our manager a short
4:28message saying Rebecca was sick and
4:30wouldn't be in, and that I'd be late
4:32without explaining how I knew either
4:33thing. I left the remaining soup in her
4:35fridge, lined up the medicine on the
4:37counter with a sticky note listing the
4:39times, and refilled her water glass one
4:41last time. She watched me do all of it
4:43from the couch. She thanked me, and her
4:45voice sounded more like her own again. I
4:48told her to call if the fever went back
4:49up. Neither of us mentioned what she had
4:52said when I first walked in, or what she
4:54had said at 3:00 in the morning, and I
4:56think we both noticed the other one not
4:57mentioning it. I drove home with the sun
4:59coming up behind the warehouses along
5:01the highway, feeling more awake than I
5:03had any right to be. I kept replaying
5:06the moment she opened the door and
5:07leaned into my hand. I knew she had
5:09chosen me at the exact hour she normally
5:11would have chosen no one. What I didn't
5:13know was whether the woman who came back
5:14to the desk beside mine, healthy and
5:17sharp and back in control of everything,
5:19would still be willing to say she had.
5:21Rebecca was out for the rest of that
5:22week. I sent her one text on Wednesday
5:25asking whether the fever had broken and
5:27she answered an hour later with a thumbs
5:29up in the words mostly human again,
5:31which was more than I usually got from
5:32her about anything personal. Our
5:35manager, Diane, asked me that morning
5:37how I'd known Rebecca was sick before
5:38Rebecca had called in herself. I told
5:40her Rebecca had reached out in the
5:42middle of the night because she needed
5:44someone to pick up medicine. Diane
5:46nodded and moved on because in a
5:48distribution office, there is always
5:49something more urgent than a co-orker's
5:51fever. I spent 3 days beside an empty
5:54chair answering two of Rebecca's
5:55carriers when they called her line by
5:57mistake. I kept catching myself turning
5:59to say something to her and finding only
6:01her monitor dark with a sticky note on
6:03the bezel that said, "Do not touch my
6:05stapler miles." She came back the
6:07following Monday looking like herself
6:09again, which meant pressed quick and
6:11already annoyed with the coffee machine.
6:13Her color was back. Her hair was pulled
6:15up the way she wore it on busy days. And
6:18she had a stack of folders under one arm
6:19that she clearly intended to carry
6:21without help. I asked how she was
6:23feeling, and I made sure that was all I
6:25asked. She said she felt fine, that
6:27she'd slept for most of Thursday, and
6:29that her sister had called twice to
6:30lecture her about not going to urgent
6:32care. I told her that sounded like
6:34reasonable advice. She told me she
6:36hadn't asked for my opinion on her
6:37sister's opinions. It was so exactly the
6:40rhythm we used to have that I almost
6:41believed nothing had changed. Then
6:44before 10:00, she brought the night up
6:46herself. She rolled her chair a few
6:48inches toward mine, lowered her voice,
6:49and thanked me for coming over. She said
6:52it properly, looking at me without any
6:53joke attached to the end of it. Honestly
6:56though, most of it's gone, she added. I
6:58remember opening the door and the soup,
7:00and after that, it's just fever. I told
7:02her that was what 103 would do to a
7:04person. She hesitated, then asked
7:06whether she'd said anything she should
7:08apologize for. I could have answered
7:10that a dozen ways, and every one of them
7:12would have put her on the spot at her
7:13own desk on her first morning back. So,
7:15I said, "No, nothing she needed to
7:17apologize for, and I went back to my
7:19screen." She nodded and rolled her chair
7:21back, but for a second, she kept looking
7:23at me as though she'd expected a
7:25different answer. I decided right then
7:27to take her at her word, or at least to
7:29act as if I did. If she didn't want to
7:31carry what she'd said that night, it
7:33wasn't my place to hand it back to her
7:35in front of the whole floor. A woman who
7:37calls you at 2:00 in the morning has
7:38already trusted you with more than she
7:40meant to. The decent thing seemed to be
7:42letting her decide how much of that
7:44trust she wanted to keep in daylight.
7:46That was how I reasoned it. Anyway,
7:48looking back, I think part of me was
7:50also relieved not to have to ask her
7:52what she'd meant because I wasn't sure I
7:54was ready to hear that she hadn't meant
7:55anything at all. The trouble was that
7:57Rebecca didn't behave like someone who
7:59had forgotten. Around 11, I offered to
8:02pull the carrier delay report she'd need
8:04for her afternoon call, the same offer
8:06I'd made a hundred times before.
8:08Normally, she would tell me she was
8:09perfectly capable of finding her own bad
8:11news and then let me do it anyway. This
8:13time, she just said, "Thanks. That'd be
8:15great." and kept typing. About 5 seconds
8:18later, her hand stopped on the keyboard.
8:20She turned and told me a little too
8:21firmly that she could have done it
8:23herself. And I said, "I knew that." She
8:25went faintly pink and buried herself in
8:27an order confirmation. Later, when Peter
8:29Walsh from purchasing stopped by to
8:31welcome her back, she answered him with
8:33her usual crisp friendliness, and I
8:35noticed the difference in how she spoke
8:36to me had nothing to do with
8:38friendliness at all. The real slip came
8:40at lunch. I unwrapped my turkey sandwich
8:42at my desk. The way I had nearly every
8:45working day for 2 years, and Rebecca
8:47glanced over from her salad. Still not
8:49searching, I see, she said. A man who's
8:51found a good sandwich and all that. Then
8:53she froze with her fork halfway to her
8:55mouth. I had said that line to her at a
8:57little after 4 in the morning, hours
8:58after the soup, in the part of the night
9:00she had told me was gone. She looked at
9:02her screen as if a shipment had suddenly
9:04caught fire. I didn't say anything. I
9:07took a bite of my sandwich and asked
9:08whether the Henderson order had cleared,
9:10and after a moment, she told me it had,
9:12in a voice that sounded almost normal. I
9:14knew what I'd heard, and I'm fairly sure
9:16she knew I'd heard it. Still, I kept the
9:19night out of every conversation for the
9:20rest of that week. Whenever someone in
9:22the breakroom asked how she was feeling,
9:24I said she seemed fully recovered, and I
9:27never mentioned the pharmacy, the soup,
9:29or the hours I'd spent in her armchair.
9:31At our desks, I went on offering help in
9:33the plain way I always had, and I went
9:35on not making it mean anything. Rebecca,
9:37meanwhile, kept watching me in short,
9:39careful glances whenever she thought I
9:40was focused on something else. On
9:42Thursday afternoon, she asked, appropo
9:44of nothing, whether I'd caught anything
9:46from her. I told her no, I was
9:48disgustingly healthy. She said good and
9:51turned back to her monitor, but she
9:53sounded less relieved than disappointed,
9:55as if she'd been hoping my answer would
9:56tell her something else. By Friday, our
9:58old shortorthhand had stopped working
10:00the way it used to. She objected when
10:02she didn't mean it, and she accepted
10:03help a beat before she remembered to
10:05object. I spoke to her with the same
10:07easy courtesy I gave everyone else, and
10:10I could see that this bothered her more
10:11than anything I might have said. We sat
10:1318 in apart for 40 hours that week,
10:16close enough that I could hear her
10:18tapping her pen whenever she was
10:19thinking. She could see me every single
10:21day, and nothing about our desks was
10:23going to let her stop. What those desks
10:25couldn't do was tell her what I felt.
10:28Not while she was pretending there was
10:29nothing between us for me to feel
10:30anything about. At 10 minutes to 5 that
10:33Friday, Rebecca shut down her monitor
10:35and stood up with her coat already over
10:37her arm, which was unusual because she
10:39normally left the building last and
10:41complained about it the whole way out.
10:43She didn't walk toward the elevator. She
10:45stood beside my desk until I looked up
10:47and then she asked whether I wanted to
10:49get coffee. She said it plainly without
10:51dressing it up as a favor or a thank you
10:53and without pretending she needed help
10:55with anything. Real coffee, she added,
10:57not whatever that machine has been doing
10:59to us. I told her I'd like that and I
11:02meant it more than I let my voice show.
11:04Peter waved at us from the purchasing
11:05pod as we passed and Rebecca waved back.
11:08She didn't slow down and she didn't
11:09explain where we were going. The place
11:11she picked was four blocks from the
11:13office. A narrow coffee shop wedged
11:15between a tire store and a bank with
11:17chalkboard menus and a radiator that
11:19clanked like it had opinions. We walked
11:21there along the frontage road past the
11:23loading docks and the line of trucks
11:25waiting for the evening shift. For the
11:27first block, neither of us said much,
11:29and I could feel both of us testing
11:30whether the old rhythm still worked out
11:32here. By the second block, it did
11:34mostly. She told me my coat made me look
11:37like a man about to sell her a used
11:38boat, and I told her that was rich
11:40coming from someone who owned a stapler
11:42with a security note on it. She laughed,
11:44a real laugh, and then looked a little
11:46surprised at herself for doing it. At
11:48the counter, she ordered first and paid
11:50for both of us before I could get my
11:51wallet out. When I started to object,
11:54she pointed out that I'd spent $40 at an
11:56all-night pharmacy on her behalf and
11:58that she'd checked the receipt. We took
12:00a small table by the window, and for a
12:02while, the conversation stayed safely on
12:04work. We talked about the Henderson
12:06account and the carrier who kept
12:07insisting that a refrigerated truck with
12:09a broken compressor was basically fine.
12:12It was easy and familiar, and it would
12:14have been a perfectly ordinary break
12:15between co-workers if either of us had
12:17believed that was what it was. Then she
12:20wrapped both hands around her cup and
12:21asked what I actually did on weekends.
12:23She said she'd sat next to me for 2
12:25years and knew my sandwich, my
12:27handwriting, and the exact sound I make
12:29when a pallet count is wrong. She did
12:31not know a single thing about my
12:32Saturdays. I told her I played in a
12:34wreck hockey league on Thursday nights
12:36badly but enthusiastically, and that on
12:38Sundays I went to my brother Danny's
12:40house to run his grill because he
12:42couldn't be trusted with it. She wanted
12:44to know how badly. and I admitted I'd
12:46been the team's leading scorer of
12:47penalty minutes two seasons in a row.
12:50She laughed again, but she kept asking
12:51and the questions got more specific. She
12:54wanted to know what Dany had done to the
12:56grill, whether my mother came to Sunday
12:58dinners, and what position I played. I
13:00told her defense because it mostly
13:02involved standing between trouble and
13:03the people behind you. She said that
13:05tracked. I asked her the same thing in
13:07return. And she told me she spent most
13:09Saturdays at a climbing gym across town,
13:12mainly because nobody can talk to you
13:14while you're halfway up a wall. That was
13:16the most Rebecca thing I had ever heard,
13:17and I said so. She told me I wasn't
13:19allowed to find her charming over a
13:21beverage she'd paid for. It was a joke,
13:23but she didn't look away after she said
13:25it, and neither did I. The radiator
13:27clanked, and somebody at the counter
13:29dropped a lid, and in the small quiet
13:31that followed, she finally said what I
13:33think she had brought me there to say.
13:35She told me she still felt strange about
13:36that night, about me driving over at
13:392:00 in the morning and sitting in her
13:40armchair until it got light. You didn't
13:43have to stay, she said. You could have
13:45dropped off the soup and gone home. Most
13:47people would have. I thought about how
13:49to answer that and about all the things
13:51I could have pointed to. There was the
13:52sentence she'd said at the door. There
13:54was her hand on my wrist and her asking
13:56me to stay until it got light. Every one
13:59of those things belonged to a woman with
14:00a fever over 103, and I wasn't going to
14:03use them like evidence. So, I told her
14:05the part that belonged to me. I said I
14:07stayed because I wanted to be there with
14:09her, not because I thought it was my
14:11job, and not because I expected anything
14:13to come out of it afterward. I said it
14:15as simply as I could, and then I let it
14:17sit instead of softening it with a joke.
14:19Rebecca looked down at her cup for a
14:21long moment. Her thumb moved slowly
14:23along the edge of the lid. When she
14:24looked up, her expression wasn't guarded
14:26exactly, but it was careful, like
14:28someone trying to read a label in bad
14:30light. She said that was kind of me.
14:32Then she said, "This isn't a whole
14:34thing, you know. I just wanted coffee
14:36that didn't taste like a parking
14:37garage." I told her I understood and she
14:39nodded as if I had agreed to something,
14:41though I'm not sure either of us knew
14:43what it was. It was nearly dark when we
14:45walked back and the trucks along the
14:47frontage road had their running lights
14:48on. We talked about smaller things, a
14:51movie she'd tried to watch on Thursday
14:52and fallen asleep during, and Danny's
14:55dog, who had once eaten a whole rack of
14:56ribs off the patio table. Halfway back,
14:59I noticed she was walking more slowly
15:01than she had on the way there. At first,
15:03I thought she was tired since she'd only
15:04been well for a week. Then I realized
15:06she was doing it on purpose because
15:08every time I adjusted my pace to match
15:10hers, she slowed down a little more. I
15:13didn't say anything about it. I just
15:14walked slower and for a block and a
15:16half, we were the two slowest people on
15:18that whole stretch of road. Looking
15:20back, I think that block and a half told
15:22me more than anything either of us said
15:24at the table. The office parking lot was
15:26nearly empty by then, and her car was
15:28three spaces from mine under the one
15:30working light. She stopped beside her
15:32driver's door with her keys in her hand,
15:34and she didn't open it. She asked
15:36whether I was going to Danny's on
15:37Sunday, and I said I was, and she said
15:39she hoped the grill survived. Then she
15:41was quiet for a few seconds looking
15:43somewhere around my coat collar rather
15:44than at my face. She started to say
15:47something, got as far as miles the other
15:49night when I and stopped. I waited and
15:51didn't feel the silence for her because
15:53whatever she said next needed to be
15:55hers. She pressed the unlock button and
15:57the headlights flashed across both of
15:59us. "Thanks for coming," she said, which
16:01could have meant the coffee or could
16:02have meant something else entirely. Then
16:05she got in and drove off before either
16:06of us had to decide which. I sat in my
16:09own car for a few minutes without
16:11starting it. An hour earlier, I'd been
16:13able to tell myself that what happened
16:14at her apartment was the fever, and that
16:16whatever I felt was the leftover worry
16:18of a man who had watched a friend get
16:20sick. Neither explanation worked
16:22anymore. She had asked me out while
16:24perfectly healthy, paid for my coffee,
16:26and walked slowly on purpose. I had told
16:28her in plain words that I wanted to be
16:30there that night for her and not for
16:32anyone else. Neither of us had said what
16:34we wanted next. On Monday morning, I
16:36would sit 18 inches from her again. And
16:38I had no idea how either of us was
16:40supposed to act like a pair of ordinary
16:42co-workers after the way she had stood
16:43beside that car. On Monday, Rebecca was
16:46already at her desk when I got in, which
16:48almost never happened. A paper cup from
16:50the coffee shop with a clanking radiator
16:52sat on my desk beside my keyboard with
16:54my name written on the side in her small
16:56square handwriting. She didn't look up
16:58when I sat down. She said it was a
17:00onetime donation to protect her own
17:02health since the office machine was
17:03clearly trying to kill us both. I
17:05thanked her and asked whether this meant
17:07I owed her $40 back. She told me we were
17:10even now and that she'd kept the receipt
17:12for this one, too. Then Diane walked
17:14past with a clipboard and we both turned
17:16to our monitors at the same moment like
17:18two kids caught passing notes. Neither
17:20of us mentioned the parking lot. For the
17:22rest of the morning, the cup sat between
17:24us and I noticed she glanced at it every
17:26time I picked it up. That was how most
17:28of the next few days went. Rebecca kept
17:30finding reasons to roll her chair toward
17:32mine, and they were thinner reasons than
17:34she'd ever used before. She asked me to
17:37doublech checkck a freight code she
17:38obviously knew by heart. On Tuesday, she
17:40asked whether the grill had survived
17:42Sunday, and she listened to the whole
17:44story about Dy's flare up and the singed
17:46patio umbrella as if it were important
17:48news. But we were both careful about how
17:50much of Friday showed up at our desks.
17:52When she laughed at something I said,
17:54she kept it short. When I offered help,
17:56I offered it in the same flat, practical
17:58voice I used with everyone, and she
18:00accepted it in a voice just as
18:02practical. It was like carrying
18:03something full to the brim across a
18:05crowded room. We could both feel how
18:07easily it would spill, and we both kept
18:09our hands steady and our eyes forward.
18:11On Wednesday afternoon, I went down to
18:13the second floor for a pallet sign off
18:15and came back up the stairwell instead
18:17of the elevator. When I pushed through
18:19the door, Rebecca was standing by the
18:21elevator bank with a stack of shipping
18:22labels and Peter Walsh was standing
18:24beside her. I was 10 ft away and
18:27couldn't have turned around without
18:28looking ridiculous. Peter was smiling a
18:30little nervously, his lanyard twisted in
18:32one hand. There's a new tie place over
18:34on Fifth, he was saying. I was wondering
18:37if you'd want to get dinner sometime
18:38Saturday, maybe if you're free. He said
18:41it decently without any show the way
18:42you'd hope a grown man would ask.
18:45Rebecca's face softened in a way I
18:46recognized from that night. Though it
18:48didn't stay long, she told him it was
18:50really kind of him to ask, but she was
18:52going to say no, and she hoped he'd tell
18:54her if the place turned out to be any
18:55good. Peter said that was completely
18:57fine, and he sounded like he meant it.
18:59Then he turned and saw me, and I watched
19:01him decide not to be embarrassed. He
19:04asked whether I'd sorted out the short
19:05count on the Ridgeway delivery because
19:07his vendor was calling him about it
19:09twice a day. I told him I'd found the
19:11missing pallets in the wrong bay and
19:13would send him the corrected numbers by
19:14four. He thanked me, made a joke about
19:17vendors who think warehouses are made of
19:19rubber, and headed back toward
19:20purchasing. I answered him the same way
19:22I would have a month earlier because
19:24nothing about Peter had changed. He had
19:27asked a woman to dinner, and she had
19:28told him no, and both of them had
19:30handled it better than most people
19:32would. It would have been easy to feel
19:34some private satisfaction about it. I
19:36didn't let myself, mostly because I knew
19:38her answer to Peter told me nothing
19:40about her answer to me. She hadn't said
19:41she was seeing someone. She hadn't
19:43looked at the stairwell door. She had
19:45just said no for her own reasons, and
19:47those reasons were hers. Rebecca was
19:49watching me when I turned back, and I
19:51could tell she had seen the whole
19:52exchange with Peter. She walked back to
19:54our desks with me, set down her shipping
19:56labels, and waited until I sat. I think
19:59she expected me to say something, either
20:01a joke about Peter or some careful
20:03question. When I didn't, she studied me
20:05for a moment the way she studied an
20:06invoice that didn't add up. She said I'd
20:08been very polite to him. I told her
20:10Peter was a polite guy and the Ridgeway
20:12count really was short. She said right
20:14and turned back to her screen, but she
20:16didn't start typing. And for a full
20:18minute, she just sat there with her hand
20:20resting on her mouse. Around 10 after 5,
20:23when most of the floor had gone home and
20:25the cleaning crews vacuum was droning
20:27somewhere near accounting, she tried to
20:29put things back the way they used to be.
20:31She rolled her chair over a few inches,
20:32nodded at my coat on the back of my
20:34seat, and said, "So, are you going to
20:37sell me that boat or not? It was a good
20:39line, and a month earlier, I would have
20:40answered it in a heartbeat. I'd have
20:42told her the boat had a slow leak and a
20:44lot of character, and she'd have told me
20:46to stop pitching her, and we'd have both
20:47gone home pleased with ourselves." I
20:49opened my mouth to say exactly that, and
20:51then I closed it. She noticed. The
20:54little smile she'd prepared for my
20:55comeback faded into something more
20:57uncertain. I turned my chair to face her
20:59properly. I told her I didn't think
21:01either of us should have to settle
21:02anything at work. Sitting 18 in apart
21:05with Diane's office 20 ft away. But I
21:07can't keep doing this part. I said, "I
21:10can't keep acting like what I feel about
21:11you is just the old friendship. It
21:13isn't. And I don't think it has been for
21:15a while." My voice was quieter than I
21:17meant it to be. And I made myself keep
21:19looking at her. I told her I wasn't
21:21bringing up anything she'd said when she
21:23was sick. I didn't want her to feel she
21:24owed me an explanation for a fever or a
21:27phone call. I just didn't want her
21:28wondering anymore whether I was being
21:30polite to her the same way I was polite
21:32to Peter. Then I said that was all that
21:34I wasn't asking her for anything at her
21:36desk. And I meant that too. She didn't
21:38answer right away. She looked at me then
21:40at the dark window behind my monitor
21:42then down at her hands. And for once she
21:45didn't reach for a joke to get herself
21:46out of the moment. I could see her
21:48deciding not to. I'll admit I had spent
21:50the last two weeks calling my silence
21:52respect. And some of it was but some of
21:54it had been a way of making her guess.
21:56and guessing was exactly what she'd been
21:58doing every time she watched me from the
21:59corner of her eye. Now, at least she
22:01didn't have to. The vacuum shut off
22:03somewhere across the floor, and it got
22:05very quiet. Rebecca took a breath as if
22:08she were about to say something. And
22:09then she let it out slowly instead.
22:11"Okay," she said, and it sounded less
22:13like an answer than like someone setting
22:15down a heavy box to look at it. I stood,
22:17put on the coat she'd made fun of, and
22:19picked up my bag. I told her I'd see her
22:21in the morning, and that she didn't need
22:23to do anything with what I'd said by
22:24then. She nodded without looking away
22:27from me. When I reached the elevator, I
22:29glanced back and she was still sitting
22:31there with her monitor off and her coat
22:33on the back of her chair. She was
22:34looking at my empty desk like it had
22:36asked her a question. I had told her the
22:38truth and I had left it with her on
22:40purpose. What she did with it and where
22:42and when she chose to do it would have
22:44to be up to her. On Thursday morning,
22:46Rebecca was at her desk before me again,
22:48but there was no paper cup waiting
22:50beside my keyboard. She said good
22:52morning in a perfectly normal voice,
22:54asked whether the Ridgeway numbers had
22:56gone out, and kept her chair exactly
22:58where it belonged. For most of the day,
23:00she worked with her headset on and her
23:01shoulders squared the way she did during
23:03inventory close, and I took the hint
23:05that she wasn't ready to talk. That was
23:08fine because I'd spent half the night
23:09realizing I hadn't finished what I'd
23:11started. I had told her what I couldn't
23:13keep pretending, and then I'd walked to
23:15the elevator feeling like I had done
23:16something brave. But I hadn't asked her
23:19anything. I had handed her a fact and
23:21left her to figure out what I wanted her
23:23to do with it. That was the same thing
23:25I'd been doing for 2 weeks, only with
23:27better lighting. At 5:00, she shut down
23:29her monitor and reached for a coat. And
23:31I asked whether she'd walk out with me.
23:33She glanced toward Diane's office, where
23:35the light was still on, and then back at
23:37me. "Not here," she said, and I told her
23:40that was the whole point. We took the
23:41stairs instead of the elevator, which
23:43neither of us suggested out loud.
23:45Outside, the wind had picked up off the
23:47loading docks, and we ended up walking
23:49the frontage road again, almost by
23:50habit. The coffee shop with the clanking
23:52radiator had a handwritten sign on the
23:54door saying it had closed early for a
23:56plumbing issue. Rebecca read it and said
23:58the radiator had finally won. We sat on
24:01the bench outside the bank next door
24:02instead, under a little stone awning
24:05with the trucks idling at the end of the
24:07street. I didn't make her wait for it. I
24:09told her I wanted to ask her something
24:11properly, which I hadn't done the night
24:12before. I asked whether she would spend
24:15time with me outside work again and not
24:17because she owed me a coffee or felt bad
24:19about a pharmacy receipt. I'm not asking
24:22because of anything you said when you
24:23were sick, I said. I'm asking because of
24:26how I feel sitting next to you now when
24:27you're perfectly healthy and arguing
24:29with me about staplers. She looked down
24:31at her hands, which were pushed deep
24:32into her coat pockets. For a few
24:34seconds, I thought she was going to tell
24:36me it was a nice offer, the way she'd
24:38told Peter. Instead, she let out a long
24:40breath that fogged in the cold air. I
24:42remember all of it," she said. She told
24:44me she remembered standing in her
24:46kitchen, scrolling past her sister and
24:48her college friends and Diane, and how
24:50her thumb had stopped on my name before
24:52she'd even decided anything. She
24:54remembered my hand against her cheek and
24:56the soup and the sandwich line at 4 in
24:58the morning, which she said I should
25:00already have figured out. "I said you
25:02were the only one I wanted to call," she
25:03said. "And I knew exactly what I'd said
25:05the minute I woke up." She laughed a
25:07little at herself, not happily. She said
25:10she hadn't pretended to forget because
25:11she regretted it. She'd pretended
25:14because if she admitted it, she would
25:15have to ask me what that night meant and
25:17she was afraid of the answer. Either I'd
25:20tell her I would have done the same for
25:21anyone, or I'd feel I had to say
25:23something kind because she'd been sick
25:25and pathetic and a comforter. I didn't
25:27want you being sweet to me because you
25:29felt stuck with it, she said. She didn't
25:31follow it with any promise, and I didn't
25:33ask her for one. I sat with that for a
25:35moment because she deserved better than
25:37a quick answer. Then I told her the part
25:39I hadn't liked admitting to myself. When
25:41she'd said on that first Monday that
25:43most of it was gone, I had been
25:44relieved. It meant I didn't have to ask
25:46whether she'd meant what she said or
25:48whether it was just the fever talking.
25:50I'd called my son's respect, and some of
25:52it was, but some of it was me avoiding a
25:54question I was afraid to hear answered.
25:56"So, you weren't the only one hiding
25:58behind that," I said. I just had a more
26:00polite excuse. She turned and looked at
26:02me then, really looked, and some of the
26:04stiffness went out of her shoulders. She
26:06said that was the most annoying thing I
26:08could have said because now she couldn't
26:10feel bad about it alone. So I said the
26:12rest of it plainly. I told her I would
26:14like to take her out on a real date with
26:16dinner and no carrier reports and nobody
26:18from purchasing waving at us. I told her
26:21I liked her that I had for longer than
26:22I'd admitted and that the night at her
26:24apartment since started it only made it
26:26impossible to keep ignoring. Then I told
26:29her I didn't want an answer on a bench
26:30outside a bank with her hands frozen and
26:33my hockey bag waiting in the trunk. You
26:35don't owe me a yes because I showed up
26:36with soup, I said. And you don't owe me
26:39an answer tomorrow at your desk either.
26:41She asked what time hockey started, and
26:43I admitted 8. And she pointed out that I
26:45had been checking my watch for the last
26:4610 minutes. I told her that was nerves,
26:49not hockey, and she almost smiled. For
26:51once, she didn't reach for a joke to get
26:53out of the moment. She stood up, brushed
26:55off the back of her coat, and faced me
26:57with her keys already in her hand like a
26:59woman who'd made a decision about how to
27:00make a decision. Saturday, she said.
27:03meet me Saturday, not at the office and
27:05not on a bench outside a bank. She said
27:08she'd text me where and when, and that
27:10she wanted a couple of days with a
27:11normal temperature and no one sitting 18
27:13in away before she said anything. I want
27:15you to hear it from me when I'm fully
27:17myself. She said not from me with a
27:20fever and not from me pretending. I told
27:22her Saturday was fine and that I'd be
27:24wherever she told me to be. She nodded
27:26once and then added that I should wear
27:27the boat coat so she'd recognize me. We
27:29walked back to the lot together at our
27:31normal speed, and neither of us slowed
27:33down on purpose this time. There didn't
27:35seem to be any need. At her car, she
27:37unlocked the door and paused, but
27:39whatever she'd started to say last
27:40Friday stayed unsaid, and this time that
27:42felt like a choice rather than an
27:44escape. She told me not to get any
27:46penalty minutes, and I told her I
27:48couldn't promise that. I got to the rink
27:50with 4 minutes to spare and played about
27:52as badly as usual, except I spent the
27:54second period thinking about her, saying
27:56she remembered all of it. For two weeks,
27:58we'd been reading each other through
27:59cups of coffee, slow walks, and answers
28:02that came a beat too fast. On Saturday,
28:04Rebecca wasn't going to give me another
28:06sign to decode. She had decided to give
28:08me an answer, and the only thing I
28:10didn't know was what it would be. Her
28:11text came Friday at lunch while she sat
28:1418 in away eating her salad and
28:16pretending to read a freight invoice. It
28:18gave the name of the climbing gym across
28:20town and said 10:00 Saturday morning,
28:22followed by a second line telling me to
28:24bring an appetite and the coat. I read
28:26it twice, looked over, and found her
28:28looking very hard at her invoice. I
28:30typed back that I would be there, and I
28:32heard her phone buzz on the desk beside
28:34me. She didn't pick it up until I had
28:36turned back to my monitor. For the rest
28:38of the afternoon, we worked like two
28:39people who had agreed not to talk about
28:41the weather. It was the strangest and
28:43most pleasant Friday I'd spent in that
28:45building. She left at 5:00 with a small
28:47wave, and I didn't ask her a single
28:49question because for once, I knew
28:51exactly when I was going to get my
28:52answer. The gym was a converted
28:54warehouse with 60-foot walls covered in
28:56colored holds, and it smelled like chalk
28:58and rubber mats. I found Rebecca halfway
29:01up a route marked with orange tape,
29:03moving slowly and deliberately, testing
29:05each hold before she trusted it with her
29:07weight. She didn't see me come in, so I
29:09stood by the mats and watched her work.
29:11She hit a section where the holds got
29:12small and stopped for almost a full
29:14minute, studying the wall. Then, she
29:16committed to a long reach, caught it,
29:18and finished the route without looking
29:19down once. When she lowered back to the
29:22floor and unclipped, she spotted me and
29:24pointed at my coat. "You actually wore
29:26it," she said. "I was going to be so
29:28disappointed." She had chalk across one
29:30cheekbone and her hair coming loose, and
29:32she looked more like herself than I had
29:34ever seen her look at work. We sat on a
29:36bench by the lockers while she pulled
29:38off her climbing shoes. I expected her
29:40to ease into it, maybe through a story
29:42about the route, but she didn't. She
29:44told me she had spent 2 days at a normal
29:46temperature thinking about this and that
29:48the thinking had mostly been about how
29:49to say it without sounding like a
29:51speech. Then she put both shoes down and
29:53turned to face me. I didn't call you
29:55that night because you were the nearest
29:57person or the nicest one. She said, "I
29:59called you because it was you and I
30:01wanted you there. I still want that."
30:03She said she wasn't going to hand me
30:05what she'd said with a fever and call it
30:06an answer because that woman had been
30:08scared and wrapped in a comforter and
30:10hadn't had a choice about much of
30:12anything. So, I'm asking you myself,
30:14will you go out with me tonight on a
30:16real date? The one you described with no
30:18carrier reports. Her hands were steady,
30:21but she was gripping the edge of the
30:22bench hard enough to whiten her
30:24knuckles. I told her yes before she had
30:26finished letting go of the bench. Then I
30:28told her something else I had decided on
30:30the drive over. I didn't need her to
30:32keep proving what that night meant, and
30:34I wasn't going to keep checking her for
30:35signs that she meant it. She had asked
30:37me while perfectly healthy with chalk on
30:40her face in a place she had picked and
30:42that was the only answer I had ever
30:44wanted. She laughed and said she had
30:45rehearsed a version where I made her
30:47explain herself for 20 minutes. I said I
30:50was saving that for our first argument.
30:52We spent the next stretch working out
30:54the part neither of us wanted to get
30:55wrong. At the office, we would keep it
30:57to ourselves for now because it was
30:59nobody's business yet and she had earned
31:01the right to decide who knew. But we
31:03agreed we wouldn't pretend to each other
31:05and we wouldn't put on a show of
31:07indifference at our desks. She said she
31:09reserved the right to keep objecting to
31:11my help. And I said I reserved the right
31:13to keep offering it. She picked the
31:15restaurant herself, an old Italian place
31:17near her apartment with red booths and a
31:19waiter who had clearly worked there
31:21since the8s. She said the Thai place on
31:24Fifth was off the table for at least a
31:25month out of respect for Peter. And I
31:28told her that was probably the most
31:29decent thing anyone had ever said about
31:31a menu. The dinner itself was easy in a
31:33way I hadn't expected. We talked about
31:35her sister in Denver and my brother's
31:37grill, and she told me she had nearly
31:39called me twice on Thursday night just
31:41to complain about the waiting. I asked
31:43why she hadn't, and she said because the
31:45next time she called me, she wanted it
31:47to be for no reason at all. When I
31:49walked her to her building afterward,
31:50she stopped on the same step where she
31:52had once stood in a gray comforter. This
31:54time, she took hold of my coat by the
31:56lapels and kissed me unhurried and
31:58completely cleareyed. When she let go,
32:00she told me the boat was officially
32:01sold. On Monday, I got in at my usual
32:04time, and Rebecca was already at her
32:06desk with her headset around her neck
32:08and a folder open. She said good morning
32:10in a voice that would have fooled anyone
32:11on the floor, and I said it back the
32:13same way. Around 11:00, I offered to
32:15pull the carrier delay report for her
32:17afternoon call. She told me she was
32:19perfectly capable of finding her own bad
32:21news, and then she let me do it, and the
32:24whole exchange sounded exactly the way
32:25it had for 2 years. The difference was
32:28in what happened afterward. When I sent
32:30her the report, she bumped her chair
32:31against mine on the way to the printer,
32:34just once and barely at all, and kept
32:35walking. At lunch, I unwrapped my turkey
32:38sandwich, and she watched me do it and
32:40said nothing, which I understood
32:41perfectly. Peter stopped by later to
32:43tell her the tie place had been
32:44terrific, and she told him she was glad
32:46and meant it, and nobody had to perform
32:48a thing. The moment that told me the
32:50most came late that afternoon. Her
32:52monitor froze in the middle of a big
32:54order upload, and I watched her glare at
32:56it for a few seconds, the same way she
32:58had studied that wall on Saturday. Then
33:00she turned her chair toward me and asked
33:02if I would take a look without a joke
33:04attached, and without any objection
33:05first. It was such a small thing that
33:08nobody walking past would have noticed
33:09it at all. I leaned over, found the
33:12stuck process, and fixed it in about a
33:14minute. She said thanks and went back to
33:15work and I went back to mine and we sat
33:1818 in apart for the rest of the day
33:20without either of us pretending there
33:22was nothing between us. That night at
33:249:00 she called me and when I asked what
33:26was wrong, she said nothing was, which
33:28was the whole reason she called. I still
33:30think about how close I came to treating
33:32that night as either a promise or
33:34something to forget when it was really
33:36just the first time she let herself
33:37choose. What mattered was that she got
33:39the chance to choose again in daylight
33:42with chalk on her face and her own
33:43reasons in her pocket. If someone told
33:46you something true while they were sick
33:48or scared, would you hold them to it or
33:50would you wait to hear them say it again
33:51when they were fully themselves? Tell me
33:54in the comments. And if this story
33:55stayed with you, give it a like and
33:57subscribe so you don't miss the next

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