Page 2 of Chaos Theory
He casts an eye to the bedside clock. ‘This is definitely going to be a late day.’
‘Unlike…every other day of the week?’
‘Hey, you know what they say.’
‘The early bird gets the worm?’ I offer.
‘Yeah. But the second mouse gets the cheese. This is all part of the master plan, Maeve. If I keep coming in at 9:15, consistently, every day, eventually people will assume that 9:15 is my official start time.’
I laugh. ‘Good to know.’
Hooking up with Shane was never part of my plan, if I ever had one. It’s just become a habit, one I’m finding hard to break. We’re a bad influence on each other. Will we have one more drink? The answer is always yes, no matter which of us has asked. All year long I’ve been convinced one of us will soon get another job, and then circumstances will resolve our situation, without the need for a manual intervention…
My toe snags on something lacy beneath the sheet. I bend my knee and draw the small black item towards me with relief, until closer inspection unfolds a different truth.
‘Shane, this isn’t even mine!’
I fling the thong across the room. The two of us burst out laughing.
‘Come on, we’re going to be so late,’ I say.
Yes, this was our last hurrah. At least we’ve gone out with a bang.
TWO
10am
‘Maeve, I need to see you in my office right now.’
I roll my eyes and consider telling my boss’s boss that, unless someone has just invented the teleporter,right nowis a physical impossibility. ‘Sure thing, JP,’ I say down the phone instead.
I begin the arduous journey from the second-floor open plan to the secluded top-floor offices, searching my mind for recent indiscretions. Could this be about my excessive personal use of the new multifunction printer? Maybe I left a copy of my résumé in the out-tray again? It’s just easier to spot typos in print. Or maybe JP’s twigged what I did on Monday morning: instead of arriving five minutes late for the all-staff meeting, I hid in the bathroom for a full hour, then skilfully merged with the crowd leaving the meeting, as if I’d been there all along.
I make my way to the elevator, squinting as harsh sunlight brightens the corridor, a feature of the building’s glass wall frontage. I can picture the architect in the pitch meeting, clicking through their slide deck with a flourish.Georgian brickwork meets contemporary office style at the heart of historic Dublin.Old meets new meets old.
The elevator is faster than the stairs in theory but rarely in practice. I press the call button three times and await its shuddering arrival.
‘Welcome,’ it announces as I step in. ‘Please state your destination now, or press the corresponding button on the panel.’
‘Fifth floor,’ I state.
‘Please state your destination now,’ the elevator repeats calmly.
I sigh. My Irish accent is not the strongest – diluted by years of travel – but still, I switch on my best Californian drawl. ‘Fifth floor.’
No response. I jab at the corresponding button on the panel. A surprisingly smooth ascent begins. I imagine the steel box passing the fifth floor, gliding through a hidden opening in the roof, continuing upward to the stratosphere.
I dutifully arrive at JP’s office, take a moment to enjoy the view over the park and the low-rise Dublin skyline beyond. JP unfolds himself like a spider preparing for lunch. Adjusts his glasses before looking at me.
‘Maeve. We need to talk.’
He nods at the chair in front of his messy, oversized desk. There’s probably a tree missing from the park below, felled specifically to cater for JP’s attachment to paper. He’s been known to print out emails.
‘What’s this about?’
I stay standing. The not knowing is starting to get to me.
‘Don’t worry, this isn’t a bad meeting. I have some interesting news. Sit down.’
