Season 4 iii: Third Time's the Charm

Setting: the office, my room, back to the office, back to my room, back to the office, Ann’s room

It was my birthday weekend (…stupid middle of the week birthday…), and I had plans. Sure they were hella scattered between dates and times and people and places, but there were plans. I was going out. I was going to do something. If I didn’t, I would hear it from my co-workers. (Secretly I am the biggest prude in the place. However, acting has become a necessary skill in my line of work—being a prude that is—and I have covered it well.) I was pretty sure the whole distorted mess of my weekend would end up boiling down to a nice meal, maybe a marg or a glass of wine. Nothing major. Just a good time. And that would have been enough had I not gotten it in my gut to push the envelope with Mr. Fourth Season. And push I did. First into my room…where I pretended to clean up the computers. Then back to my office because, man, those papers were just in such a messy state! Then back into my room where I may not have erased the board. On the last trip to my office I stewed up enough courage—or self loathing—to push through my room to Ann’s, where he sat, plucking away at his coaching application.

I went in all casual. “Oh, hey, Leslie is coming over in a bit if you need to talk to her.” And ended up perched on a desk verbal proofing his essay. That is, until he pulled the cord and headed for the door. I HAD to make my move. So I sprung. It was awkward, a question in a question. “So, how serious were you about going out this weekend?” An opening he probably wasn’t even aware he gave me. But I used it. I was in. With a positive response I unloaded the not so planned plans. We chatted, packed up and began to leave. All the while my gut kept shouting, “His number! You need to get his number!” I finally gave in just outside the front doors. He gave me his and I called in mine. A detail you might write off as unimportant, but with my history, we were talking first moon landing stuff. We walked to our cars. I left. He left. I grinned. 

When the day finally rolled round, he never showed. He had fallen ill to the odorless food poison in his fridge.