Page 26 of My Boss

“It’s nothing.” I rub my forehead with my hand. “I just need a moment to breathe. Thank you, Ms. Ala, I love you.”

I say goodbye to my neighbor, turn off my cell phone so as not to give my boss a chance to fire me over the phone, take a deep breath and sink my gaze into the blue sky, on which white clouds are gliding. The sounds of nature surround me. Birds sing in the branches of the weeping willow, ducks quack on the calm surface of the water, and I wonder what will happen to me next. I think I should start looking for a new job. And I was such an optimist. Everything was going as I had planned for myself.

Maria, why worry? Through the abyss of gloom, the positive part of my personality emerges quickly. Live for the moment. Relax on a blanket, read a book, expose your face to the sun and enjoy the beautiful weather. On the way home, buy yourself a lily-of-the-valley bouquet from some elderly lady selling them on the square, go into Zabka grocery store for a good beer and your favorite chocolates for Ms. Ala (don’t eat them on the way!), and in the evening go bowling with your friends. Forget about heartless Jan, about what you said to him, about the fact that he was mad at you when you ran away from the apartment (although he probably didn’t let it show anyway). The boss will be back in three days. That’s when you’ll worry about what to do next. It won’t do you any good to think about it over the weekend. Enjoy life and forget about work.

All in all… Actually, worrying won’t do me any good. Question: what is the worst that can happen? Answer: I’ll be fired without good references. Conclusion: it’s not the end of the world. I’ll find something new, probably paid much worse, it will be harder, but I’ll make do. I’ll survive. I can do it!

Well, and that’s what I’m sticking to.

I get up from the grass, spread my blanket, pick up a book, put my earbuds in my ears and turn on the most positive song I can think of. Pharrell Williams’sHappyresounds joyfully, and my mood improves momentarily.

Just one last spiteful wish to the universe about my boss.

“Jan, I hope you eat rotten eggs with caviar at this damn banquet, sip soda water that has gone bad and shit your brains out.”

I feel better immediately. May my requests be heard. Karma comes back. Remember this, Jan.

With satisfaction and a feeling of relief, I adjust myself on the blanket and immerse myself into the book. The sun is warming, the cricket is chirping in the grass, the ducks are quacking, the bees are buzzing… Ah, it’s beautiful. Life will be good.

*

I haven’t had so much fun in a long time. After I totally disregarded a text message from my boss, “If you change your mind, I’m leaving at 7 p.m.” I started getting ready to go out.

My friends and I went bowling together and we are now sitting in a restaurant, where we are drinking and eating Chinese food. I feel sorry for Toska; because of the little one in her belly, she neither played nor drank, but she ate nine spring rolls and double rice with sweet and sour chicken. Pregnancy is a terrible condition—just like a disease. Either you’re sick and throwing up like you’ve caught salmonella, or you’re stuffing yourself and getting fat as if you have hypothyroidism. It’s fortunate that it’s not contagious, because seriously (I know it sounds cruel), my contact with Toska would then be exclusively remote for nine months. I say a firm ‘no’ to pregnancy. No drinking and no smoking for almost a year? Definitely not for me. I didn’t cure my ulcers to give up such pleasures.

I glance at Nina and Artur. At least they are tossing down their drinks. Which, by the way, suits me very well—I feel like getting drunk tonight and partying until dawn.

“The guy’s clearly not getting laid, that’s why he’s so anal-retentive.” Artur gulps a shot of vodka while looking at Engler’s photo on the company’s website. “No question, the dude isdamn handsome, so he shouldn’t have a problem with it.” He magnifies the image on his phone with two fingers, squinting. “Tell you what, give me his number. I’ll give him what he needs right away.”

“He doesn’t look gay to me.” I down my vodka and sip my Coke. It burns my gullet. Strong, dammit, but good. I want more.

“I didn’t look gay to you, either.”

The girls laugh, and Artur fills the glasses.

“I’m telling you, give me his number,” he insists quite seriously. “All I have to do is exchange two words with him and I can feel him in one instant.”

“You’re nuts.” I gulp my vodka and look at Artur indulgently. He’s pretty (although already crazily drunk) and has a killer smile. Furthermore, he is openly gay. And I actively participated in his coming out of the closet, and it is one of the worst memories of my youth (we have shared it with each other for the past eleven years). In my senior year of high school, I was in love with Artie up to my ears. We had known each other for three years, had been friends for a year. I had high hopes. Meanwhile, it turned out that my pussy interested him as much as yesterday’s price of eggs. Before I knew it, however, I decided to invite him to my aunt’s wedding. Everything was going great until, influenced by the vows of the bride and groom, I let out a cringe-worthy declaration:

“I’d like to do that someday, too. How about you?” I shifted my amorous gaze to him, and he immediately tensed up.

“Not really.” He moved restlessly in his seat.

“Why? Don’t you think it’s beautiful? A woman and a man. Two halves. Together forever.”

Artur made a face as if he had swallowed lemon juice.

“Come on.” I poked him with my shoulder. “I’m not saying it would be with me.” I laughed nervously because I would have given up a kidney at that moment just to make him think of me.“But surely a boy like you will have plenty to choose from. You have a lot of pull with the ladies.”

“And therein lies the problem.”

“In what?”

“That ladies don’t turn me on.” He looked at me with determined eyes, and at the same moment my world collapsed like a house of cards.

No, that’s not true!

“Impossible! Are you gay?” I asked, and I guess I did it a little too loud because the eyes of all the guests gathered in the church turned in our direction.

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