Page 53 of The Happiness Blueprint
“Not a universally acknowledged one.”
“The common ones don’t make sense, anyway—I tend to create my own. You know how people askWhat animal would you be?Well, apply it to footwear. I feel like I’d be an old sneaker, and they’re not always appreciated by the heels and leather brogues of the world.”
“Sneakers sell for hundreds of pounds on eBay. They’re very valuable, Klara.” She blinks as if she’s got an eyelash in her eye.
“Plus, he didn’t like my pump. It embarrassed him,” she adds.
“Fuck him.”
“Yes, I feel sorry for whoever will be doing that now,” she says, but I’m too angry to even smile.
Shake it off and start clearing the breakfast.
“See you at lunchtime for math?”
KLARA
How do I know if I’m a bad person?
Google Search I’m Feeling Lucky
Lunchtime math went well. We sat side by side in the van, sandwiches and drinks in the middle, and I worked my way through two pages. I managed to stay friendly and professional by pretending that he was my old secondary-school teacher who had a mustache and smelled like a composting prawn. Alex gave me homework, which I’ve managed to complete already while waiting for him to arrive at our next appointment. I have been sitting on the curb long enough for my lower body to feel sore when his van finally makes a stop next to me and he hops out, efficiency and agility like a firefighter leaving his vehicle. I hop up and brush the back of my jeans where they have touched the ground, as if checking I haven’t accidentally brought the pavement with me.
“There you are,” he says, and I stare at him. There I am? I’ve been here the past twenty minutes waiting for him. He knew my location—hence he’s just arrived here with his van.
“Yes,” I say. “Here I am, Alex.”
“Sorry I’m late. Apparently the customer had asked for a quote from the competition and kept insisting it wasn’t right that it was so much cheaper. I walked him through every single thing that we offer and they don’t, but he may still give you a call to try his luck.”
When will this stop? Who can keep working while an enemy is constantly trying to sabotage you? I don’t have long left here now and will need to own up to Dad. Soon. Just not yet.
“I will just go and pay the parking. You go ahead and open up,” Alex says. “The code for the door is zero-eight-six-five.”
The building is yellow and four floors high and has a bicycle rack outside. I try the code Alex gave me. I repeat it again and again but force myself to stop. What happened to the code I tried to hold in my memory is this: 08 is August, 65 is the year my mother was born. The date was 03. My dad was also born on a 03, and also the month 03 and the year 1963. I remember his date of birth best because it’s all3s.What was the code for the door again?I have nothing, because the only number I can think of at this point is my dad’s birth date, and I’m pretty sure that’s not it.
“You okay? Is it not working?” Alex says as he comes up behind me.
“Sorry, Alex. It’s slipped my mind.” I do a laugh to pretend it’s funny and I don’t care, like you do when someone bullies you as a kid.Ha! If I laugh with you, no one can laugh at me.
“Here.” He leans over and quickly enters the numbers, and the door opens. He holds it open with his body weight, waiting for me to go in first. “You’re a brilliant, intelligent woman. I can’t understand how you can’t remember four digits for five minutes,” he says, laughing along with me. I don’t have an answer to that, so this is what I tell him.
“Memory of a goldfish.”
Twenty minutes later we’re in the van. Silences in cars are very loud. I turn up the heating to seventy-nine degrees because the noise the fan makes when it blows with all its might is lovely.
“I’m worried about Hanna. She’s been working alone lately and is only just qualified. Do you think it’s too much pressure?” I ask.
“I’d say she’s perfectly okay. And you are a slightly overconcerned but very good boss.”
“Isn’t this how everyone is?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had a woman boss before.”
“So I’m your first. I like that.” It just slips out of me, as if it’s wild and unruly and meant to be said.
Alex’s breathing goes shallow, and he looks me in the eye. I can hold it a total of six seconds, which is a near record of the week. The record is still held by Alex, but it was nine seconds on Tuesday when he showed me an amendment for an architectural plan I found highly fascinating.
“I’m just playing with you,” I clarify. Remind myself that Alex is not even my type. Too tall, too blond, too confident. Too married.
