“This is so unprofessional!” Rose exclaims for the third time that day, and it’s true. We are unprofessional. Someone in the office has brought in balloons and a pump, and most people have stopped their work and are trying to make balloon animals. There is a cracking “POP!!!” from behind me, and everyone jumps.
“Guys, seriously!” she moans. Rose is not making balloon animals. She is adjusting her glasses and leafing through Wednesday’s Europe reports, trying to ignore everything around her.
“You want?” Ben asks, holding out a pink balloon puppy with an air of extreme disinterest.
I say nothing, only smile and point with one hand to a free spot on my desk while still tapping away at Excel with the other.
He places it down gingerly and then ambles away back to his office.
“Smoke break?” Veronica inquires to the room at large, and five of us girls immediately stand up to join her.
On the roof, we stand in a circle, huddling against the wind. The new girl, Lex, is wearing a short, fluttering skirt that keeps whipping up in the back. She shrieks and clutches at the fabric, but we all laugh good-naturedly and assure her that it’s happened to all of us countless time.
“Gotta give those security guards a good show,” Veronica winks, nodding her head in the direction of a guard skulking around in the distance.
We pass around a lighter and admire each other’s shoes and outfits--a favorite roof pastime. So-and-so is having a sale, and no, I got these at a thrift store on Melrose and did you hear that so-and-so’s new collection is out? We’re all quite the astute fashionistas.
Then, the conversation turns to guys, as it so often does when we’ve exhausted our shopping trivia.
“DId you meet the new guy?” Liza asks.
“Mmmm, very cute,” is Rose’s assessment as she finishes a drag.
“And that accent! Oh my *God*!” Veronica places her hand to her chest.
“Cute. Not my type,” I throw in.
“What *is* your type, if you don’t mind me asking?” Liza tilts her head. She’s smiling, hoping I’ll take the bait. She’s the only one who knows about my relationship with Ben, and she’s teasing me. I know she would never outright say anything, just as she knows I will make up some lie and dodge her question. It’s a game meant for teenagers, but there’s nothing quite like office romance to make everyone feel like gossiping kids again.
“Intelligent, interesting, playful, well-read, good taste in music and movies, and doesn’t wear sneakers with jeans.”
“Well duh to all of that,” Veronica playfully rolls her eyes. “But physically, what’s your type?”
They’re all looking at me, waiting for an answer.
“Um...nice shoulders? Dark eyes? Around six feet tall? Not too skinny but not too muscular? No facial hair?”
I realize that I’ve said all of these attributes as if they were questions--as if I myself do not even know what my type is. But in reality, I don’t. Sean was my first serious boyfriend and my only love, and when you’ve been with someone for almost ten years, you kind of forget what your type is. Your type becomes the person in front of you and no one else.
Physically, Sean and Ben are quite different. Ben is 100% Korean to Sean’s half-Japanese, half-white. They are both the same height, but they wear their weight differently. Sean was leaner, a little more wiry. Ben has a broader chest and thicker arms. When I was with Sean, I thought he was the most handsome guy in the world--I loved waking up to him and admiring his long lashes, tan skin, and perfectly sculpted nose.
And waking up with Ben is different, but not in a bad way. It’s like going from having toast and jam every morning for breakfast to having eggs and bacon--not a negative change, just a change.
“I can’t believe you don’t like a good beard!” Rose shouts, and with that, the conversation is steered away from me and into the world of intense facial hair.
As we tramp back downstairs, Liza falls in step next to me and nudges my side.
“So basically, your physical type is...Ben?” She says it quietly and no one can hear, but I pretend to shove her hard against the railing. She laughs hysterically at my faux annoyance and skips down ahead of me.
When we get back in the office, there are balloon animals everywhere.
0 comments:
Post a Comment