Page 43 of Written By a Woman

But I appreciated the lift it brought to my job. The place where I spent at least forty hours of my week.

However, Mary had a point. Why not flowers? Why a desk plant? I decided to go ask the man himself, standing from my desk and doing my best not to physically skip over to his office.

I had just turned the corner to the wing where upper management’s offices were, when I spotted the CTO exiting his office with an empty coffee mug.

“Mister Ansara,” I spoke, gaining his attention as he lifted his eyes away from the phone in his hand.

“Miss Lange,” I felt my heart skip a beat at how easily he played with me now. How he was more willing to meet my energy. I wondered if I was too harsh, too judgmental of the man when I first started here. How I wrote him off as shy and never expected much from him. Just because he was shy, didn’t mean he didn’t have a personality. A personality I was slowly, dangerously becoming obsessed with as time marched on.

“I got your note,” I lifted the folded paper in between my index and middle fingers as evidence as I started walking with him towards the break room.

“Good,” Zaid nodded his head once with seriousness, “I’m afraid it won’t undo the systemic sexism that is plaguing corporate America,” he lifted his shoulder, “But I figured it was a step in the right direction.”

“So,” I released a surprised laugh, loving how dry his humor was, “You’re apologizing to all the women in the office on behalf of—”

“All the men in the office, yes,” we reached the break room and he stepped to the side, gesturing with the empty mug in his hand that I should go inside first.

I laughed again before crossing the threshold “I feel like I should be the one apologizing.”

Zaid hesitated as he placed his mug underneath the dispenser, lifting one eyebrow in question as he turned his head to look at me, “For what?”

“For snapping at you yesterday,” I shrugged, “Not for taking your quarters, but for my attitude when you were just, I don’t know, going about your day?”

“On the contrary,” Zaid turned back to his coffee as he pressed the buttons to start the brew, before folding his massive arms and leaning a hip against the countertop, “I appreciate you pointing out the issue to me. I don’t know who decided to install dispensers that made women pay for products, but I have someone coming today to rectify the situation.”

“Really?” I asked, unable to hide my smile.

Zaid nodded, “If I don’t have to pay for toilet paper to wipe my own ass,” I groaned in embarrassment as I tugged the collar of my t-shirt over half of my face to hide my flaming cheeks, “Then women shouldn’t have to pay for products so that they don’t, um…” he waved his hand in the air, the tips of his ears turning the slightest shade of pink in embarrassment.

“Bleed through their pants?” I whispered underneath the hem of my shirt.

“Yes,” Zaid chuckled as we settled into silence again, nothing but the sound of the coffee maker pouring liquid energy into his mug.

“Can I ask,” I cleared my throat and lowered my shirt back into place, “Why a desk plant? Why not flowers?”

Zaid had just been reaching into his pocket to pull his phone out again when he froze with my question.

For a moment, he looked like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Like a kid who got caught in a lie or busted for something. The reaction surprised me, but the way he immediately cleared his throat and schooled his features made me wonder if I had imagined that reaction.

“I wasn’t sure if anyone had allergies,” a small pinch in his brow formed with his words.

“Huh,” I tilted my head to the side, “That’s very considerate of you.”

“My younger sister can’t handle certain flowers,” Zaid replied as he thumbed away at his phone, “Star-gazer lilies specifically, because of how potent they are.”

I blinked at him, surprised that his sister and I happened to have that in common.

“I see,” I fidgeted with the bottom hem of my t-shirt, “Anyway, thank you again. The snake plants really go with the vibe of the office. With the other office plants around the building, I mean.”

“That’s good,” Zaid nodded as I started making my way out of the break room, “Signe?”

“Yeah?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder in the doorway to look at him.

He seemed so relaxed leaning against the countertop, the presence of business casual in his slacks and his tried-and-true black t-shirt, waiting for what I assumed was his third cup of coffee that morning already, “Don’t forget to water the plant.”

I rolled my eyes at him and smiled, “It’s a snake plant, it’s low maintenance.”

“But will still require some water on occasion.”

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