The Missing O

“You have to quit, Morgan. You can’t possibly remain in that office with him.”

The urge to cry had long since passed, a new working day had begun. Telling Charlie about Mr Wydell’s actions, I found out, was not the best idea. She’d been just as disgusted as Oliver, only their ideas of how to deal with it were parallel. Oliver wanted to beat my slimy boss to a pulp. Charlie wanted me to run away from him.

I didn’t even point out that she still didn’t have a job; drumming it into her was pointless. She claimed to be doing everything she could to bring money into the house, but the fact that Matt had been giving her money to help out with Katie’s things told me otherwise.

“It’s nearly Christmas,” I said, pulling on a hooded jumper. “We need money. I’m not even going to think about quitting until after New Years.”

“But Morgan-”

“No Charlie. I’ll just have to suck it up. I’m going to be late, I’ll see you later.”

On the way to work that morning - the weather colder than ever, the snow having melted down and re-frozen as ice - I felt bad about my bitterness towards my best friend. Maybe she was trying to find work. Maybe she wasn’t turning into a gold-digging almost-girlfriend like I thought she was. Maybe I should give her more credit.

The thought of returning to the office made my palms coat in cold sweat. I knew that nothing would happen, at least not while everyone else were sat behind their desks - witnesses. But when four o’ clock came and my safety-guard co-workers left, Mr Wydell would have an open field. That was if he didn’t decide to fire me. I was dreading that thought more than his creeping hands.

When I arrived, throwing away a heavy coat and scarf, I stumbled shakily towards my desk. The office felt cramped, my little desk closed in in the corner. The keys of the PC seemed harder to press, and my vision shook whenever I looked towards the gold name plate on the door.

“You okay, Morgan?” Britt asked, looking at me worriedly when he laid a few data sheets on my desk. “You look sick.”

“I feel it,” I grumbled, trying not to choke on the tea I attempted to drink.

Britt sat himself on the desk - I squirmed, seeing a grey suit and old hands. But Britt was wearing white-wash jeans and a knitted fleece. I was safe. I knew it, but I was still petrified.

“Maybe you should go home,” he suggested, playing with my desk tidy. “Getting away from this lot should make you feel better. I know I could do with a day off.”

“Busy?” I asked, being polite.

He hummed, “Mmm. This band are pretty serious about the deadline they gave me. I thought maybe they’d be a bit lenient, considering how much work they wanted doing. But I’ve as still got four photo-masking’s to do, let alone all the touch-ups.”

“Rather you than me.”

Britt rolled his eyes with a grin before patting my shoulder and lifting himself from the desk - I exhaled. “Feel better,” he said sympathetically before returning to his own desk.

That night Britt worked until five, an hour later than usual. We spoke more, joked around and for a while I forgot how on edge I was. Until he left and then all I could do was stare at that gold name plate, heart pounding against my temples.

I waited hours. He didn’t call me in. He never came out. Not when everyone left . For now, I still had my job.

At five to seven I texted Oliver and five minutes later his car pulled up outside, the VW’s eyes shining bright and it’s gravely voice humming me in welcome. The black exterior had been washed, I noticed, a reflection of the surroundings gleaming on the paintwork.

“Everything alright?” Oliver asked when I’d closed the door and buckled my seatbelt. He was smiling, but I saw his eyes darting to the lit up office, glaring through the window.

I wondered what had been going on all day behind that closed door. Mr Wydell, busy with phone calls and inquiries, a mountain of paper work piled high around him. Or a boss cowering from his employee that he’d attempted to sexually harass. I didn’t care really, just so long as I didn’t have to see him.

“Fine,” I sighed, relaxing into the headrest. “Nothing happened.”

* * *

The first time Matt came round for dinner was the first Tuesday in December. He arrived with a bottle of wine and a bunch of flowers for Charlie, a teddy bear for Kaitlyn, and a message from Oliver for me.

“He says to pick up your phone once in a while,” he smiled at me after kissing Charlie on the cheek by the front door. He shrugged his coat off and hung it up.

I tugged my phone from my pocket. One missed call. I texted him whilst Matt and Charlie cooed over Kaitlyn; the little girl seemed to love all of the attention, gurgling excitedly. She appeared most please when Matt scooped her up, holding her to his chest.

“How’s my favourite little girl doing, eh?” he asked and Kaitlyn laughed, tugging on his black beanie. I felt my stomach twist a little, a mix of sadness and jealousy. I liked Matt. I was happy that Charlie was so happy with him, and I thought it was great that he’d taken such a liking to Katie, but I still couldn’t help feel as though he was taking them away from me.

“You’re so good with her,” I told him when Charlie was busy with taking the Shepherd’s Pie out from the oven. Matt grinned at Katie before turning to me.

“She’s a great kid,” He commended. I blushed. “You and Charlie have tougher skin than most chicks. Charlie’s lucky to have a mate like you, helping her out and everything.”

“Thanks, Matt.” He shrugged it off cheerily and put Katie down in her high chair.

The food was served soon. I’d left Charlie instructions whilst I was at work how to prepare it (she wasn’t a great cook), and I was surprised how well it had turned out. Charlie and I shared the wine, Matt waving us off when he said he wouldn’t have any, seeing as he was driving home. Katie ate her dinner and enjoyed it, sipping at her orange juice happily. The way her eyes widened told me she liked all the adults around her, even when we were talking amongst ourselves.

My phone buzzed constantly throughout the meal and I tried my best to ignore it, but in the end I found it impossible and had to text back. Every time I looked up Matt and Charlie were smirking at me.

“Oh, shut up, both of you,” I muttered, moving my food around with my fork.

“We never said a word,” Charlie smiled.

When we’d finished Matt and I cleared the plates away while Charlie put Katie to bed. She’d been up later than usual, playing with Matt.

“Do you like Oli?” Matt asked whilst he helped load the dishwasher. I’d told him not to, that he could sit down, but he was too polite - just like Oliver. Insistent bunch of lads, the lot of them.

“Excuse me?” The plate in my hands had nearly dropped.

Matt laughed, “You heard me, Love. Do you?”

“As a friend, yeah. I don’t know him all that well,” I did not want to be having this conversation. It made me feel uncomfortable. Not even the good feeling of awkwardness that I got whenever I looked at Oliver for too long.

I would admit it at the drop of a hat: Oliver was very attractive. He made me laugh and smile, he was gentlemanly but cocky enough so that I wouldn’t take him too seriously, and I enjoyed being around him. But I refused to indulge any deeper into it than that.

“Oh,” Matt seemed displeased by my answer. “Don’t tell him I asked you, alright? He’ll beat the shit out of me.”

I smiled at Matt and promised not to say anything. Charlie came back through from her room and I slunk into my own when they started to get kissy. I wondered when they’d make it official; it couldn’t be long now, not with them being practically attached by the hip, or more appropriately, the phone. I wasn’t able to dwell on their relationship status for long. The screen of my mobile lit up once more as it shifted on my bedside table.

I knew Oliver liked me. I didn’t know how much, if it was any more than I liked him. But the fact that he had gone to such lengths to spend time with me made me feel just a little bit special. And I didn’t want that feeling to go away. At least, not just yet.

* * *

I didn’t write at the café anymore, so my typewriter had been collecting dust on my desk for a long while. One night, when I hadn’t had to stay late after work, I loaded it with some clean sheets of paper, clearing my mind of everything; no Charlie or Katie, no Oliver, no Christmas and no Mr Wydell. I started to type.

Darkness had caught up with Kid and Marlow now, and they had found themselves stealing warmth in a small pub on the edge of town. They sipped at mulled-wine, pressing their hands against the crackling flames of the open fire. Marlow was glad to be inside, the weather had taken a gloomy turn and rain had began to fall hard.

Such a contrast, she thought, from how it had been this morning.

Thing’s were changing. She knew that for sure. Kid hadn’t explained anything that she understood, other than she had to help him. Why her? Why now? Why at all! All of this running, and for what? What exactly was she saving?

“Kid-” she had tried to voice one of her questions, but Kid simply silenced her with the palm of his hand, held aloft in her direction.

“I will explain everything,” he said. His voice was so smooth, the words flowed and crawled over one another effortlessly. She had never heard anything like it. “But you need to understand something first,” he said very firmly. “This world,” he motioned around him, and Marlow looked around the Tavern, “There is so much more to it than what you think, Marlow. It will be very difficult for you to accept at first. But you need to. You must believe everything I tell you now. I would not lie to you, everything I say is real.”

Marlow could feel her pulse racing. Ever since she had been taken away from her sunny garden this morning she knew that something important, something big was happening. It wasn’t just the peculiar behaviour of the stone people in the town square, but the weather, the very feel of everything around her had seemed to change.

The sky looked heavier, the grass was slowly dying beneath her footsteps as she had ran, hand in hand with Kid, and even the fire that she held her hands against seemed to be weak. The world was dying, and something was happening to the people.

“Earth is a very old planet, Marlow,” Kid whispered, inching close, “Older than any of your scientists could ever even fathom. There were organisms here thousands of years before people. This is not a human planet.”

“Oh, bloody hell!” I shouted when there was a knock at the front door. Out of frustration, I slammed my hands down on the desk before leaping up to answer it.