Page 2 of October
“Finley, we can be mature about this,” India said without opening the door, but Finley could tell she was standing closer to it now. “I get the no-shower thing. That was a bad idea. But we don’t have to be rude to each other.”
“I’m not being rude. You showed up with wine and said you wanted to talk. I should’ve just said no. I don’t even like wine.”
“It was the merlot we had on our first date,” India replied.
“Which one?” Finley asked.
“What?”
“Which first date?” she asked through the door. “We’ve had so many do-overs; I can’t keep track of them.”
“You’re exaggerating. And it was from our very first,” India said. “I thought you liked it.”
“It’s fine, but you ordered the bottle that night. What was I supposed to do? Not drink it?” Finley turned to look at the shower. “I’m getting in now. I’ll see you at work.”
“I’ll see you there, then,” India said, and when Finley didn’t hear her say anything else, she stripped the rest of the way and got into the shower.
Why did she keep doing this to herself? Time and time again, India ended up in her bed or Finley in hers. It always started that way. Sex first. Then, conversation about how they still loved each other. Next, they were back together, but days, weeks, or months later, they were over again. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. It was exhausting, but they kept letting it happen. At least, this time, Finley hadn’t given in to the sex part of this unending cycle. When India had shown up, she had poured them each a glass of the wine that she hadn’t wanted and let India get everything off her chest that she, apparently, felt still needed to be said. When Finley had finished one glass, she needed something to do with her hands, so she had poured herself and India another one.
She hadn’t eaten anything for dinner, so the alcohol hit her harder than it normally would have. When India had suggested they go to the bedroom to continue the conversation, Finley knew that meant the talking part of the evening was over and India wanted to move to the sex part of the night. Finley had used the excuse that she was on her period and felt like shit, which wasn’t true, but it got India to back off. Finley had been nice, letting her stay, but the truth was that she was also weak. For years now, India had been her girlfriend more often than not. Sometimes, they were together for a few months before it ended, but they would be back together a few weeks later.
Their first year together had been amazing, and Finley had believed she had found the one. India had ended it that time. Finley had ended it the second time after three months together. She wasn’t sure who had done it the third, fourth, or fifth time, or even how many official times there had been. There had been some friends-with-benefits nights when they weren’t technically together, so she wasn’t sure if that counted or not.
When she got out of the shower and was ready to leave for work, India was, thankfully, gone. Hoping that this time, she’d finally managed to get her key back after several previous half-hearted attempts, Finley checked her kitchen table, but there was no key on that table. That meant that India still had her key, and she still had India’s, so it would take more than them not having sex last night for her to finally, really make this thing between them come to an end.
“Hey, Fin,” Rusty said.
“Hey. How are you?” she asked as they both walked into the server room at the office.
“Good. You?”
“Yeah, good. I’ll be out of your hair in a minute. I just have to grab my stuff.”
“No worries. Hey, I was wondering if I could have next Friday off. I know it’s within the two-week request policy, but my brother is coming to town, so I was hoping to hang with him on Friday.”
“Oh, sure,” she replied and picked up a crate. “Just put it in the system, and I’ll approve it. Can you get Levi to cover for you that day, though? We have the re-cabling to do on the first floor.”
“Yeah, I’ll let him know. Excited to no longer have to store your stuff in here and get a real desk?” Rusty asked.
“I like it in here, honestly,” she replied, looking around at all the computer equipment and blinking lights that she helped set up years ago now. “But yes, I’m looking forward to having my own desk where there are windows and it’s not freezing.”
She carried the crate, which contained two stress balls, each from an IT conference, some random cables like every IT professional had in their possession seemingly at all times, a coaster, her mouse and laptop, and a few other odds and ends, along with a framed photo of her with her sister and another one with her and India together, but she’d only had that one on her desk because the desk had been in the server room, and only IT and facilities had a key to the room. They hadn’t ever flaunted their relationship at work. She suspected that most people knew, but some probably weren’t aware that they’d been together at all. She would take the photo with India home and would decide what to do with it later, but the one with her sister would go on her new desk.
Finley was most excited about having a desk out on the floor because she had gotten to choose where to sit. Her old manager had been sitting on the first floor, and when he left the company and she got the promotion to his job, they had given her the option: she could take his old desk or choose a new one since they were planning on moving a different team to the first floor anyway. Finley had chosen the desk of someone else who hadrecently quit Southern Roastery. His name was George, and he had been in HR operations. He’d been a quiet guy who hardly talked to anyone, but Finley had chosen that desk because he’d had the best seat in the whole building.
“Hey, Molly,” she said as she placed her crate on top of the desk right next to Molly Jewel’s.
“Oh, hi. I mean, hey.” Molly’s eyes always seemed a little wide whenever Finley surprised her by showing up on the days she didn’t cover this floor for IT needs. “What are you–” She looked at the crate. “That’s your stuff.”
“It’s, like, four things,” Finley said with a little laugh. “I think I need to bring in more stuff to really make this cube my own.”
“Sorry. What?” Molly asked, turning in her roller chair to face Finley.
“They gave me a choice of where to sit now that I’m the manager, and I chose George’s old desk. I hope that’s okay. They told me it was fine since they’re not backfilling his role just yet.”
“You’re going to be… sitting here?” Molly asked. “Next to me?”
“Is thatnotokay?” Finley asked. “I promise, I’m pretty quiet and I won’t cook fish in the kitchen microwave and eat it out here.”
