Modern - Chapter 9

"Derren?" What was my new neighbor doing here, at Genova Tech?

"You're Amelia Watsen?"

"Yes. And I assume you're Henderson D. Jones? Here to see Mr. Crawford?" I found myself slipping naturally into business mode. Derren hesitated a moment, then donned his work mask.

"Yes. Could you please tell him I've arrived?"

"Certainly." I quickly buzzed Mr. Crawford and waited for him to signal that he was ready. We sat in awkward silence until I got the signal.

"He's ready. Go right in," I said, gesturing to the door behind my desk. Derren walked past, shooting one last surprised, confused glance my way before disappearing into Mr. Crawford's office.

While they had their meeting, I found myself zoning out instead of checking over the report Mr. Owens had sent. So Derren was the mysterious transfer from another branch. I knew someone was coming in, and I vaguely remembered, now that I was thinking about it, that they were coming from New York. But somehow I never connected the dots that Derren was my new coworker.

Mr. Crawford had warned everyone in the company to be wary. "They're sending someone to compare notes, they say, and see if they want to adopt any of our practices," he had told us in a company-wide memo. "What that really means is that they don't trust us and have sent someone to check up on us. Be watchful. Don't be rude, but don't volunteer unnecessary information. You never know what could get you in trouble with the big bosses in New York."

Somehow I couldn't picture Derren coming to ruthlessly root out people who weren't meeting the levels of performance they expected in New York. As far as I knew, our branch of the company was doing really well. Why mess with something that was working?

After a few minutes of pondering and fretting, I decided to just wait and talk to Derren about it tonight over our dinner together. I was able to refocus on my work. When Derren left, I waved and smiled. He returned a half-hearted smile and a tiny, almost nonexistent wave. I almost texted him right then to ask if we were still on for tonight, but I decided that if he wanted to cancel, he would have to man up and tell me. I wouldn't create the opening for him.

The rest of the work day was a blur. Even though I had decided not to text Derren, I kept reconsidering and almost reaching out to him. I checked my phone every 5 minutes, hoping for a text or something.

When I still hadn't heard from him by 5, I packed up and headed home. Since he hadn't cancelled, I started cooking up some breaded pork chops and creamy peas and potatoes.

We had planned to meet at my place at 6:30. I had all the food finished by then and the table set with my best dishes. Since he seemed to be running late and I was still hoping he would reach out to me first, I washed some grapes, blueberries, and strawberries and set those out as well.

When I still hadn't heard from him by 7, I decided it was stupid not to reach out. I tried calling him, but the call went right to voicemail. Was his phone off? Did it die? Was he somewhere without service? Or. . . had he just red-buttoned me?

I gave him another five minutes and called again. This time it rang once before going to voicemail. Since that meant he was very likely hanging up, I threw in the towel. Sitting at my table that had never felt too big before, I enjoyed the delicious food I had worked so hard on in a repressive silence. I considered turning on music, but after all the time I had spent talking with Derren about our favorite songs, I felt like music would just make his absence hurt even more.

When I finished eating, I looked at the rest of the food sadly. Maybe I would give him one more chance. . . just in case. I called and the phone rang five or six times before going to voicemail. Well, at least this time he probably didn't hang up. He just ignored me.

I was putting the leftovers away when I heard loud footsteps coming up the hall. I assumed it was my next door neighbor, Tom. He was a pretty big guy. He wasn't usually out in the evenings, but he must have had something going on tonight.

The footsteps stopped, only to be replaced by a very loud pounding on my door. I flinched and almost dropped the glass container I was holding. Setting it on the counter, I hurried to the front door and peeked out the peephole. A familiar figure was standing there, looking around in confusion. Derren looked back at the door and gave another loud knock.

"Emmmmy," he called. "Are you hooooome?"

I opened the door and he swayed, nearly falling on me. I let him in, trying to ignore the reek of alcohol. Apparently he had been drinking, and from the looks of things, he had gone a little overboard.

"Sit," I commanded, leading him to a kitchen chair and fetching him a drink of water.

He took the cup and drained it quickly. "Thaaanks for the waaaaater." He drew his words out and slurred them a little, smiling at me rather vacantly.

"You're drunk."

"Iiiis that why I feeeeeel like thiiiis?"

"Yep. What happened?"

"Weeent out drrrrinking wittth the guuuys from work. Wanted to mmmmake frrriends."

"Mmmhmm. And do you usually drink a lot?"

"Noooope. Don't usually driiink at allllll. Thought I ordered sooooda. 'Parently noooot."

I shook my head. Was he lying to me? Or had someone really exchanged his soda for alcohol? That would be a very odd thing to do, but he seemed drunk enough that he wouldn't really have the capacity to lie. . . right? I decided to test him.

"Why didn't you call or text me?"

"Thooought I woould just be a liiiittle late. Was goooing to text you, but I forgootttt. Worrrrried you'rrrrre the baaaad guy." He laid his head down on the table. "Soooo tired."

I sighed. I wasn't going to get a clear explanation from him about the last statement tonight. It would have to wait for tomorrow. "You should probably get back to your apartment and go to sleep. Here, I'll help." I put my arms under his and helped lift him to his feet. He slumped against me, nearly sending me to the floor, but I managed to stay upright as I pulled one arm around my shoulders and put my arm around his waist.

We headed down to his apartment and I helped him get the door unlocked. Thankfully, he was able to get changed into pajamas without help. I tried not to fixate on his attractive chest (because apparently he never wore shirts to bed) as I tucked him in and set some water and ibuprofen on the nightstand by his bed along with a short note.

"Goooodnight kiiissss?" he asked as I turned to leave.

I turned and found him looking at me with pleading eyes. I sighed and gave him a soft smile. "Okay. Just one." I returned to his bed and leaned down, gently pressing my lips to his. He returned the sweet, tender kiss.

When I broke away, he was smiling. "Thannnks Emmmmmy."

"You're welcome. But we really need to have a talk tomorrow."