Wish You Were Here Read online

Wish You Were Here

  by Les Rolt

  Edited by Laura Company

  Copyright 2015 Les Rolt

 

  Wish You Were Here

  Pulling back the faded orange blinds, Sam Tunney watched the drama unfold from the third floor window. There had been a lot of shouting and screaming, and crying. Always the inevitable crying. He was certain that Lucy Reed was a perennial crier, one of those girls you'd find sat by the kerb at 3am after a drunken night out, crying her heart out, mascara streaming down her face as she damned all men to hell. He watched as she turned to walk back inside the building, then let go of the blinds. Lucy's relationship had ended to the muttered disapproval of an entire office block; in contrast, the breakdown of Sam’s own relationship had been a slow, drawn out affair taking place entirely behind closed doors. The pounding click of high heeled pumps upon the staircase preceded her entrance. The door flung open, and Lucy entered flapping her arms dramatically.

  “He's such an arse hole!' She said, slumping down at her desk. “He doesn't respect me, not at all.”

  “They never do.” Sam replied, looking up from his desk.

  “Well, that’s it now. We’re finished, I’m done with him.”

  Sam stood up, walked towards to the broken woman and handed her a box of tissues.

  “I'll stick the kettle on.”

  Lucy Reed had been working at Burnham and Richtor for three months, Sam for eight years. She was a temp, providing short term cover for the receptionist who was on maternity leave; he was the office administrator, with no desire for career progression. In the past, he had flirted with the prospect of fulfilling his potential. He'd been offered internal promotions, and attended interviews for jobs that deep down he had no intention of taking. For rare and fleeting moments, he dreamt of moving onwards or upwards – but those moments rarely lingered and he found himself content to be content. A prisoner to his own mantra, that ‘whatever will be, will be’. There was little doubt that Sam was attracted to Lucy. He viewed her as some form of beautiful disaster; alluring in appearance, but unappealing in personality. She wasn't necessarily cruel or unkind, but she seemed far too self-absorbed and superficial for his liking. The needless volume of her Estuary tones grated on him, as she’d broadcast conversations about reality television, and who was dating whom, and who was sleeping with whom. Over time, his irritation begun to blossom, yet Sam took great pleasure in the ephemeral moment when the smell of her perfume would waft into the room each morning as she ascended the stairs. He had at first found her personality obnoxious and precocious; loud personal phone conversations and a cackling laugh did not go down well with a man who preferred peace and quiet. One morning, he returned from a dentist appointment to find the radio station changed from his usual easy-listening station to one that poured out drum and bass at an objectionable volume. He disliked that she read tabloid newspapers, and would always discuss the endings of movies in front of other people, with no regard for whether they may or may not have plans to see the movie themselves. He disliked the way she would never wash her mug after using it, and would leave bright pink lipstick stains on all the glasses. However, as is the case for so many men, his dislike of her personality had no bearing on his physical attraction to her. Whilst Lucy had never knowingly encouraged this, it had increased months earlier at the office Christmas party. Lucy, as usual, had argued with her boyfriend over the phone. He was supposed to join her at the party, but had chosen to go out drinking with his friends instead. Sam found her upstairs, crying in the office kitchen, mascara running down her cheeks. He had only gone up to look for his phone charger. He put an arm on her shoulder to comfort her, and in return she ran her fingers through his hair and kissed him deeply and passionately. He still remembered the taste of cigarettes and vodka on her breath, the feel of her tears on his cheek and the black mascara stain they left behind. He found himself captivated by the unfamiliar embrace of another human being, before the sound of the door opening killed the moment. He walked out of the kitchen and, holding the charger in his hand, pretended to search for it underneath his desk.

  “Are you okay?” The middle-aged receptionist asked, heading into the kitchen. She offered comfort to Lucy and suggested they go back downstairs and join the party. Sam watched from behind his desk. Lucy went downstairs, and spent the remainder of the night laughing and joking. Sam hung around her like a bad smell, but never found a moment alone with her. When they returned to work after the weekend, nothing was said of the moment and he began to wonder if she remembered it at all. He never raised the subject, and dismissed the temptation to pursue the attraction. However, in the months that followed, he would leave the radio on whatever station she chose, avoided adjusting the volume and no longer objected to having to clean the cups.

  “He doesn't care about me. He doesn't care that he hurt me.”

  “They never do,” Sam replied pouring water into the kettle.

  “I just don't know why some people think it’s okay to treat someone like this.” Lucy said, clutching a tissue.

  “There's just no justice in the world.” Sam replied..

  “We’ve been together for two years, did I tell you that?”

  “So what happened?’

  “He treated me like shit, said some really nasty things to me.”

  “And that’s why you were arguing? That’s why you broke up?”

  “No, there’s more to it than that. Yesterday we’d been for lunch, but things didn’t go well. We had a massive row and after he said all those hurtful things, that same night, he went out and he cheated on me with some cheap slapper. I found out about it, and that’s what we were arguing about. That’s why I ended it with him.”

  “That’s terrible,” Sam replied, placing a tea-bag into a mug and pouring in the boiling water.

  “He’s humiliated me. We were supposed to get married you know.”

  “I didn’t know you were engaged.” Sam said, taking the milk from the fridge and pouring it into the cup.

  “Oh we weren’t ever actually engaged, but we were supposed to get married at some point.”

  Lucy looked down, picking the polish from her nails.

  “Do you take sugar?” Sam asked.

  “Two, please.”

  Sam dropped two cubes into the mug, the sound of them hitting the water breaking the silence, sparking Lucy back into life

  “I don’t know how I’m supposed to face any of my friends again. God, I wish I could just disappear.”

  “That was always my dream,” Sam replied handing her the mug of tea. “I was going to drive across America. Rent a car and hit the Mother Road, the Will Rogers Highway.”

  “I’ve always wanted to go to LA, I feel like I’d really fit in there.”

  “That’s where I was going to end up – more or less. After Nancy left I planned to chuck in my job, get a flight to Chicago and just live the dream.”

  “Who’s Nancy?”

  “Nancy was my wife, but we’re not together anymore.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Lucy replied, looking up at him between sobs. “What happened?”

  “I guess some things just aren’t meant to be.”

  “Did you love her?”

  “Oh I definitely loved her, but I’ve loved a lot of people – what made her different was that I liked her. The way I see it, love will only get you so far. You’ve got to like each other to make it work. I honestly thought that I would spend my entire life with her. I suppose you always do when you’re just starting out.”

  “I know how you feel, it was like that when I first met Nathan, and every time we broke up in the past I always knew we’d end up back together. It was just meant to be. But not this time, I’m done with him
this time.”

  “I remember the night Nancy left me.” Sam said, ignoring her comment and staring out of the window. “I remember laying on the sofa, waiting for her to come home. She told me she was just going out for a quick drink after work, but it got to 10pm and she still wasn’t back. I called her, asked her when she’d be home. She told me she’d lost track of time. I remember getting angry with her; I’ve played it back in my head a thousand times. She told me she was going to finish her drink and then she’d leave.”

  Sam paused and picked up his mug, wrapping both hands around it and looking at Lucy, who was listening attentively.

  “An hour went by. I calculated in my head how long it would take to finish a drink, how long she might have to wait for the bus, how long the journey was. I sat by the window and waited for half an hour before calling her. Her phone just rang and rang; I hung up and then tried again, and again. I didn’t leave a voicemail; she knew why I was calling. Instead, I just went to bed. Why should I have to wait up for her? I woke up at about 3am and stretched my arm out, finding nothing but cold, empty space in the bed; I checked my phone – nothing. I tried calling her again, but it went straight to voicemail.”

  “That’s so horrible,” Lucy said looking across at him. “God, the number of times I’ve waited for Nathan knowing he’s at the pub with this girl or that girl. It’s so hurtful, isn’t it? Sometimes they don’t answer, or you can hear some tart’s voice in the background. He’d always say they were just friends, or whatever. They never care about how much they hurt you. I think it’s pathetic when someone goes after a person they know is in a relationship.”

  “I met him once,” Sam said. “Just once mind, the sight of him made me sick, made me angry. Truth is I don’t know who I was angrier with, her for leaving me or him for stealing her away from me. He told me that it was just a mistake, a stupid, drunken mistake. If anything, it just made me angrier. He told me it was a mistake, but he never said sorry. Never really showed the regret that I felt he should have done. He walked away, and I hated him more. I hated the fact that she fell asleep in his arms that night and not mine.”

  “Oh my God, that must have been horrible. So was that when you decided to leave? To travel?”

  “Yeah, after she left me. I was all on my own. She was the one who inspired me, and just like that she was gone from my life. I had a month of eating take-aways, drinking alone, feeling miserable. I hated my job; I had nothing keeping me here. I felt that this was my chance to put the past behind me, to be someone different, be someone better. I picked up travel guides, I planned out my route, planned out how much it would cost. I remember one night sitting at my computer, just one click away from ordering my tickets.”

  “So why didn’t you go?” Lucy asked, taking a sip of tea.

  Sam paused for a moment, he’d asked himself that very question many times, and offered her the same well-rehearsed line he always told himself.

  “I guess life just got in the way. I’ve got a pretty good job here, a nice flat in Balham.”

  “But I thought you hated it here?”

  “Well, I do. I mean, I don’t enjoy the work, and I don’t particularly like the boss. But then you read these articles in the Daily Mail about high unemployment and you feel like you should be grateful for having a job.”

  “That’s a not a good reason not to follow your dream; you could always find another job.”

  “But then there’s my flat as well,” Sam said walking over to the desk and sitting beside her. “I couldn’t just up and leave it.”

  “Of course you can – the flat will be here when you get back, and you can find a better job – one you don’t actually hate. What’s holding you back?”

  “Nothing I guess.”

  “Then let’s do it!”

  “Do what?” Sam said looking across at her.

  “Let's just lock up the office, get a cab, pack some stuff, get our passports. Get out of this shitty place.”

  “I can’t just walk out.” Sam replied.

  “Come on, you and me. Let’s go together, get away from it all.”

  “But, I haven’t booked any holiday”

  “Who cares? Be honest with me, Sam. Do you like this job?”

  “Well, it pays the bills.”

  “That’s not what I asked you,” Lucy replied. “Do you like this job?”

  “It’s not perfect, but...”

  “Just answer the fucking question Sam!” She snapped, “Yes or no - do you like this job?”

  “No.”

  “Does it make you happy?”

  “No.”

  “When you wake up in the morning do you look forward to coming here?”

  “No.”

  “Then why do it?”

  “It’s not as simple as that; everyone has to work for a living.”

  “I’m not saying you shouldn’t work, but you can’t waste your life doing something you hate.”

  “But what if there’s nothing else out there for me?”

  “There’s always something else out there Sam, trust me. My last job I was temping at this office in Farringdon, the boss was an absolute creep from day one. He was a patronising, sexist jerk – so I left, just packed it in. Life’s too short to be miserable. Sounds like you just need to take some time away, get some perspective. I’m only temping here anyway, so come on – let’s go for it! Book our tickets online, call a cab, grab our stuff. Fly to the States. Travel around for a few weeks.”

  “It does sound like fun.”

  “Then come on, what are you waiting for?”

  Sam looked down at the stack of files on his desk, at his overflowing in-tray.

  “Okay.” He said with a smile. “Let’s do it.”