Prospecting
by Michael Loveday
“Yes of course, I sympathise,” he said, glancing behind her in the mirror to adjust his tie. “We’re lucky the insurance scheme is in place. But I have to think about the business in the long-term. The effect on the other employees. I don’t want them becoming workshy. Everyone needs to pull their weight.”
Claire watched him bounce his clenched fist gently four times on the tabletop: “EV- ER- Y DAY. Otherwise – the business goes under. Look, this technology now is like the Wild West. You rest for one minute and someone else gets the gold before you. Tick tock, you know? We’re not digging for an infinite amount.”
“Tony, I can’t think about you prospecting for your fortune. I’m just trying to get by each day at home.”
Confess it: every day a precipice.
“Yes, I’m sure. I understand. I really do.” Tony glanced at his phone, corrected his cufflinks. Claire reminded herself: what could this monstrosity know of struggle? Struggle for Tony was the daily imperfections of his hairdo.
His face softened. He continued: “Honestly, for as long as the doctor confirms you’re not ready to come back to work, I understand. Everyone at IRV understands.” She imagined the chatter along hushed corridors: gossip, speculations. How could she face these people again?
“It’s just that, obviously, what happened was… quite a moment. We’ll welcome you back with open arms, naturally. But we’ll need to think about how we... reintegrate you.” His mouth contorted at the word. “But hey – that’s for another day. In the meantime, you need to rest, for sure. Get yourself back on your feet. Clear your head. Soon enough you’ll be feeling more yourself.”
Yes, that was something like the truth of it. Was she lessherself nowadays or more?
For her colleagues, what lived inside her head – bric-a-brac lurking in corners – added up now to a problem..
But for her, the messy bits were the single point of interest, waiting to be discovered. This clutter calling out her name – what she wanted was to find it all. It flared up in the dark of her like tiny embers, kindling and re-kindling, flickering with light.