Page 8 of My Boss

I tense up in a second. I’m not one of those suspicious people, but these particular noises don’t seem normal when you call your boyfriend in the middle of the day.

“Where are you?” I decide to ask directly.

“What do you mean where? At work.”

“Where exactly?” I ask because Karol works in Marketing and Sales, which employs twelve other men and not a single woman.

“At my desk. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. I just got the impression that you were out of the office. I heard a woman laughing…”

Silence.

“Karol?”

“It was Andrew’s wife. She stopped by with the cake. It’s his nameday today.”

“Whose, the wife’s?”

“No, Andrew’s.”

“It’s February. Isn’t St. Andrew’s day in November?”

“Really?” His laughter sounds nervous. “Maybe he is celebrating his birthday after all…” He sounds hesitant. “Listen, I’ll try to see you in half an hour. I’ll run upstairs for five minutes and give you a relaxation massage?”

I rub my forehead. I’m all tense. And apparently, I’m getting paranoid since I’m suspecting poor Karol of God knows what, when he’s working like a good boy two floors below. All because of fucking Jan.

“No. Don’t come. You don’t have to. It’s just that damn Engler threw me out of balance. I need to cool down.”

“OK. Take care. I’ll see you tonight?”

“I don’t know,” I sigh. “I may have a lot of work to do. An inspection from the tax office is getting ready to go to the customer’s place.”

“OK, call if you need me. We’ll go out and then go to my place.”

“Sure thing. Take care. Bye.”

I hang up, put the phone in my suit pocket, pick up the toilet cover and pee. I feel so powerless I want to cry. If only I found this ad three hours earlier. I could have used the lunch break Iwasted on stuffing myself with pastries and gossiping with Agata and Olga in the social room.

Jesus, what a shame. That wing armchair is so beautiful.

“Fucking Jan. What a stiff bastard. Jesus, how I hate him.” I growl under my breath, wipe myself, flush the water, open the stall door and…

Oh, fuck.

A few feet in front of me, right by the sinks, I see Engler, who is washing his hands as if nothing ever happened. I notice his bent face in the reflection of the mirror and immediately duck back into the stall. Maybe he didn’t see me and will leave any time now?

But wait a minute! What the hell is he doing in the ladies’ room? I hope he didn’t hear me call him a stiff bastard. Jesus…

“Have you found the documents I asked for yet?” A firm voice carries through the bathroom.

So, he saw me. Shit, what a fucked-up day. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, then another.

Okay, I’m going.

I walk up to the sink confidently and press the soap dispenser.

“Please don’t get offended, but using a restroom designated for the opposite sex is inappropriate, to say the least. Don’t you think so?” I cast a scolding glance at him in the mirror.

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