Away With The Marys

‘So what did Sharon say?’

‘About what?’

‘About your notice. Your notice that you put on her desk?’

Steve shrugged for the ninth time today. He was being surprisingly nonchalant…no, surprisingly stupid about the whole thing. The other day he was pretty serious about leaving, but today he was acting like nothing had happened, and was hoping that I would act the same.

‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged again.

‘Have you changed your mind?’ I asked.

‘No, my mind has always been the same.’

‘So, you’re staying?’

‘Yeah.’ He shrugged again.

‘What about the getting-no-respect thing?’

‘Dylan! What are all the questions about? Can we just get on with it?’

What we were getting on with was in the meeting room, assembling desks for Sharon’s meeting later today. We could have had it done in twenty minutes, but with Steve’s incredible time-wasting skills, we had managed to stretch forty-five minutes out of it. Amazing, considering we only have 6 tables to move. But thanks to my questions, Steve was now hoping to get the job done as soon as possible.

‘It’s just a bit odd, that’s all.’ I said.

‘What? Why?’ Letting go of the table we were moving.

‘The other day you wanted to go. Now…’

‘I never wanted to go, I was just, you know…making conversation.’

Steve’s usual art of ‘making conversation’ involves the early work of Alice In Chains, or how World Of Warcraft is not a children’s game. It’s never about leaving your job. I knew the real reason, and usually I would stretch it out a bit more by asking more questions to make him scoff and sweat. But I’d had enough of that.

‘It’s about Mary, isn’t it?’

Steve scoffed and spluttered and turned away, his hairy round face turning red.

‘Why would it be about…’

Mary peeped her heard around the door.

‘Hey guys.’

‘Mary! How are you?’ Steve beamed.

‘Good. Good. I was just going to get my brew? You fancy it?’

‘Yeah! Coffee for me…’

Steve let go of the heavy table we were in the middle of shuffling around the room, which made it fall awkwardly, nearly landing on my foot. I watched them cackle out of the room as I finished putting the desks together. It was slightly offensive. Just how stupid did Steve think I was? I saw them flirting with each other, if talking about a man called ‘Pigeon’ qualifies as flirting. But for him to assume I’d think nothing of it, on the day he said he was leaving, is well…stupid.

I finished moving the desks ten minutes later, so to kill a bit more time I sat on one whilst I messed about with my phone. The canteen was nearly empty. It was only 11am and the cooks in the kitchen were getting ready to make the dinners. In the far corner, Mary and Steve sat in the comfy chairs, chuckling and sipping their coffees. Alex spotted me as I was heading to the stairs. He shot up from the middle table and rushed over to me.

‘Forgot my wallet, Dylan.’

‘Morning to you too, mate.’

‘Oh, yeah…morning.’

Alex patted a few of his pockets and winced at me.

‘You couldn’t lend me 20p, could you?’

‘You’ve not got 20p?’ I asked.

‘Nothing. Forgot my wallet.’

This is the trouble with those wallets with the little pocket to keep loose change. If you forget it, you have nothing. That’s why I keep my change in my pockets. Hence the term ‘loose change.’ It’s hardy ‘loose’ when it’s in your wallet. I was contemplating lecturing my theory to Alex, but he winced a bit more, like he’d not eaten for two weeks.

‘Here you go.’ Handing over the coin.

‘I’ll give it you back tomorrow.’

‘No, it’s fine. I won’t miss it.’ I smiled.

‘Think I’ll get me some crisps.’

Alex popped his card into the machine on the wall and slipped in the coin.

‘You know, Alex…’ I wandered over to him. ‘Loose change is…’

He pushed a few numbers on the machine and watched the crisps fall. He wasn't in the right frame of mind for my theory.

‘Never mind.’

‘You sitting down?’

Alex and I took our seat at the middle table. Steve and Mary were still sat mumbling to each other. Every so often I’d hear a word I’d recognise, followed by a stream of laughter and loud sips of coffee.

‘They’re getting along.’ Alex nodded, opening his packet.

‘Yeah.’

‘What’s her name?’

‘Mary.’

‘Hmmm, I like fat Goths…’

Now, Alex comes out with a lot of odd things, but this was a corker. So much so, I had to narrow my eyes and look away, just to figure out what he meant.

‘ I'm sorry?’

‘You know, you see Goths on the train or on the street or whatever, and they look pretty frightening, yeah?’

‘Agreed.

‘But with fat ones, they look almost huggable.’

‘Huggable?’

‘Yeah, like you could give them a big hug.’

‘Yeah, but Alex, they’ve got buckles and sharp things all over them. You might pierce an organ.’

I’d love to hear what someone might have thought of our little chat. Two trolley pushers debating over whether to hug and girl in gothic clothes. You’d never see that on Question Time, would you? 

Alex looked into the middle distance and pondered my theory of pierced organs. He took a large Gary-Lineker-style bite of his crisp and tilted his head in slight agreement. I hadn’t noticed before, but Alex was halfway through his packet of crisps and he hadn’t offered me one. Surely it’s a human kindness? I couldn’t believe my eyes. There he was, sat right in front of me, crunching away on the crisps that I funded. Even if I didn’t give my 20p to him I’d expect one. That’s what people do in this world; they sit down and open a bag of crisps. As soon as you make eye contact with the nearest stranger, you have to offer, aiming the bag in their direction and smiling. It seemed that Alex’ crisp-offering gene hadn’t evolved, and even though I paid for all of the crisps inside, I couldn’t get a look in. But maybe I was getting ahead of myself. He was only halfway through. He was saving the best ones at the bottom for me, surely.

‘And she’s pretty old too. Old fat Goths are the best.’ He said.

He licked the salt and vinegar off his fingers and dived in for another. This time, a massive crisp came out. And I mean a massive one, big enough to enter into a competition or tap a stranger on the shoulder on the bus and say ‘Look at the size of this, mate!’ Alex looked at me, held the crisp to my eye line and chuckled to himself. Then he took a huge bite it, making the broken bits fall down his shirt. That added insult to injury. I wasn’t going to let him get away with this. As he picked out his next one, I followed it with my eyes, open my mouth slightly and watched him take another bite. Surely there weren't many left now. He must have been down to at least 3 or 4 more. I repeated the same process, this time miming a bite of an imaginary crisp in front of me, in sync with his real bite. But he wasn’t getting it. I decided to dig my elbow in his ribs a bit deeper.

‘Enjoying them?’ I nodded at the bag.

‘Mmm…’ His eye glazed over with a full mouth.

I nodded and looked down. Took a big breath of air and shook my head. None of it was getting through. I heard the clack of the comfy chairs behind me as Mary and Steve got up. They chuckled a bit more as they passed our table.

‘Oh, salt and vinegar.’ Mary said. ‘Can I?’

‘Yeah, there’s one left.’

Alex held the bag out and Mary dived in. The final insult.

‘Can you lend my 20p, Steve?’ I asked him, with an eye on Alex’ munching face.

‘Naa, mate. My loose change is in my wallet. That’s in my locker.’

‘It’s not loose change then.’ I held my head low.

‘Sorry?’

‘Never mind.’

Alex finished the bag the classic way, holding the bag above his head and shovelling the crumbs into his mouth. I always wondered if the Queen ate crisps. If she does, do you think she finishes packets the way we do? I bet she does. I bet she even ties up the empty packet into a bow like people in pubs do.

‘We were just talking about you, Mary?’

‘Oh yeah? Nothing bad, I hope?' Mary giggled.

‘No, we were just saying it would be nice to hug you.’

Know you that feeling you get when you can hear someone saying something that’s stupid, but it’s too late to stop them? Even before the sentence I know what he going to say.

‘Sorry?’ Mary asked with a smile, scraping a lock of black hair back behind her ear.

Steve looked a little threatened

‘Me and Dylan were just saying…’

Oh no, suddenly I’m involved.

‘…If we had to hug someone it would be a fat goth.’

‘No, no…’ I interrupted, catching Mary’s astounded face. ‘We were just saying, no, he was just saying that you’d be nice to hug…’

I don’t know how that could have made it better.

‘I’m sorry? What do you mean?’

‘No, we mean…’

I couldn’t think of anything to help. Alex tried, though.

‘Fat Goths that are old, too.’ He smiled.

Alex failed. Mary looked at Steve and smiled timidly, looking a little hurt and confused. We were waiting for Mary to go downstairs, but she smiled, straightened up and held out her arms.

‘Come on then.’

‘What?’ I said.

‘Let’s go.’

Oh no, I was being asked to fight a Goth. I was being asked to fight a Goth by a Goth. No-one fights a Goth. It's a rule of life.

‘What?’

‘Hug. Come one.’

I don’t know if you’ve ever been in this situation, but when a fat Goth wants a hug from you, and two people are watching, it’s hard to decline. I rose to my feet slowly and leant into her torso. She grabbed me, trapping my arms as she gripped her hands together around my back. Mary is a lot shorter that me, but she makes up for it. She bent her knees and attempted to lift me up, making me stand on my tiptoes. After holding on for a few seconds, that’s when I heard something snap. Oh God, she had broken my ribs. A fat Goth had broken my ribs.

‘There you go.’ She said, letting go.

‘Enjoy that, Dylan?’ Steve patted me on the shoulder, which hurt a bit more than I was expecting.

‘Yeah, brilliant.’

We all heard something fall from Mary’s chest.

‘Oh, look what you’ve done!’ She said in mock anger. ‘One of my bloody buckles has come off my coat!’

‘Sorry.’

I was saying sorry! Why?!

‘It’s OK. Let me know when you want another off me!’

I nodded as we watched Mary and Steve cackle off downstairs.

‘Thanks for that.’ I said to Alex.

‘No problem.’

I was in pain. She hadn't broken my ribs but it felt like it. I leant forward in my seat, somehow easing the pain of the Goth hug.

‘Why did you tell her what we were talking about?’

‘Just came out.’ He shrugged, licking his fingers. ‘Those crisps were good. You couldn’t lend me another 20p, could you?’

I’m keeping my loose change in my wallet from now on.