Again

This final part is unfinished.

Monday. The most shit of days, because I had to get out of bed and be productive. I sat at my desk, typing some lines of code for our newest website layout. When I was a kid I’d never really had any sort of a passion for technology, but I found a sort of home in it as I grew older. That eventually led to me getting my web design and development degree, and working here. This bloody office filled me with dread the moment I walked through the door. I took a sip from my water and held my hands on the keyboard, urging myself to finish up the last few bits of this website so I could go work on something more interesting, but before I could do anything my door swung open without even a knock and Mathew came hurtling inside, almost forgetting to close the door again. They gently shut it and walked up to my desk with a giddy expression on their face. I unenthusiastically turned to face them, huffing something about wanting them out, before asking;

“What do you want, Mathew.”

They grinned at me and shoved their phone in my face to show me something, but they held it so close to my eyes that I had to push it away and adjust my glasses to see anything on it.

There was an image of Mathew with some scars on their chest, their hair shaved closely to their head. I hadn’t even realised their hair yet. And those scars, too… I looked down at their chest to see it flat.

“You got it done.” I looked up to meet their eyes, and they nodded like they’d just won the lottery. Which, I guess in some ways, they had.

“Yep! But holy fuck, does it feel weird. How you doin’ though, Sammy?”

I only tolerated that nickname because Mathew was the only bearable person at my job. We were both trans in some way, so we’d migrated to each other as there weren’t many out people and most reacted strangely if you told them. I didn’t think they were particularly interesting, but they were nice enough to talk to if you didn’t bring up football. They wouldn’t shut up for hours.

“You already know the answer to that.” I mumbled in a sarcastic tone. They’d never bashed my pessimism, either. Made it much easier to talk to them.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” They laughed a little. Obviously they thought I was joking or something. “But if I keep asking, maybe something will change eventually.” I just stared at them with a look in my eyes that said “fuck off”. They didn’t catch this.

“So, the boss sent you off to some meeting that isn’t even part of your job description… and you’re still not complaining?”

Mathew looked at me with almost pity in their big blue eyes. I should’ve known this was coming. I stayed silent and they took this exactly how I thought they would.

“Oh, come on, Sam!” They exclaimed. “You know the more you tolerate this, the more she’ll make you do this stuff?”

I shook my head and sighed. “I know, I know. Just… I don't see much of a point.” My usual frown only deepened at Mathew’s almost pout. They crouched at eye level next to me and tried to meet my gaze but I just avoided theirs.

“You don’t see the point at making this hellhole more tolerable for yourself?” I had to fight the instinct to say no. Instead I swivelled my chair around to look back at my computer.

“I just can’t risk losing this job. I… don’t know if I could find another.”

This wasn’t a complete lie. I mean, it wasn’t the complete truth either, but it was close enough to it.

“Okay, okay, I’ll leave it.” Mathew smiled at me and walked back to the door of my office.

“Just think about it, okay Sammy? I’ll bring ya some lunch later.”

And they left, leaving me with my thoughts. I didn’t know why they were so worried about me. It didn’t really matter all that much.

Another half an hour of typing (staring at my pc screen) later, and I finally went to check on my phone, intending to scroll through instagram, when I saw a text on my phone. It had been sent only 5 minutes ago and the name read… Anthony Campbell. Fuck. I swiftly put my phone face first on my desk so I didn’t even have to look at the contents of the text. I was not meeting with that cheery, perfect, oddly confident in himself son of a bitch again even if it meant never looking at my phone for the rest of my life. But… if I had to…

Well then, guess I was going to check this text after all.

Anthony Campbell - Today, 10:23

-HEY so we’ve had some issues with the paperwork and I need to resign it so if you could maybe get it reprinted and we could I don’t know meet at a cafe or something that’d be great okay BYE

That was… interesting. No grammar or punctuation at all. He’d written this in a rush. Was it really that urgent? I doubted it, but this sounded… desperate. Maybe his boss was just as strict as mine. Maybe they also… well, if they did then I felt bad refusing. But I didn't really want to go back out and make polite small talk over some average drinks and have to drive him back to the train station again. Or even worse, if something went wrong, have him stay at mine. Oh, god, no, that sounds like a shitty RomCom. The “Oh no, there's only one bed, whatever will we do?” kind of bullshit.