"Hello?" Mark called through the crowded doorway.
Susan swivelled around on the floor. "Hey, come in."
"I'm trying." He laughed balancing the pizza in one hand, holding a paper bag in the other, as he climbed around the boxes.
Susan smiled up at him from her seat on the ground, surrounded by books and journals and tax returns from the mid nineties. "My hero."
"Good thing I know you're talking about the pizza, I might get the wrong idea." He grinned. "Where should I put it?"
"wherever you can find a space."
"Why was the door open?" he balanced the box across two stacks of books
"Oh, the delivery company found the headboard they lost and when they dropped it off," she opened the pizza box as she spoke, "I told them to leave it by the door, hoping you weren't kidding when you offered to help – cause I'll need you to help me carry it into my bedroom. Only, they left it jammed up against the door, pinning it open."
"Why didn't you just let them put it in your room?"
"This mess is embarrassing." She pulled a slice out of the box and took the napkin mark offered as a plate.
"You invited me right in." he took his own slice.
"It's too late to make a good impression on you." She laughed.
"You got it?" Mark asked, unable to see her for the impressive ornate headboard he was carrying one end of.
"I think so." She lifted her end, pushing him back as she found her balance.
"Woah. Okay," he stepped back slowly
He backed through into her room, avoiding boxes and the contents of that which was scattered across the floor. Susan just went ahead and stood on anything in her path. When her hands slipped they put it down and picked it up again. It was in it's rightful place a minute later and Susan rubbed her hands together and collapsed back on her bed.
"This is gonna take hours."
Mark sat beside her, a little tentatively, "Oh, could be worse."
"Really? How?" she turned to face him.
"Well, you could be without my expertise," he stood up, "Or, what else would be worse, the whole building could burn down."
She laughed, "But then I'd get insurance."
"And new Medical books."
"You'd spend insurance money on medical books?" she looked incredulous, getting up to follow him back into the living room. It looked like a storm had been through it.
"I kinda hope not. That's quite sad really isn't it?"
"So you're married to your job, join the club." She sat down amongst her boxes.
He sat on an empty wooden crate and went back to putting her sorted piles on the rightful shelves as per her directions.
"Not particularly healthy for real marriages though – I'm thinkin."
Susan laughed, "No. Probably not."
"Is that why you never got married?" he asked before he could stop himself and kept his attention on shelving to avoid her eyes.
"Not intentionally. I just… well at least with work it's in your hands. You know? If it all goes to custard then it's either my fault or it isn't. Most of the time it's pretty much that simple. But relationships are another whole kettle of fish."
"It's true. So-and-so said so-and-so and you did this and she did this and he did… nothing simple about it."
Susan nodded. Mark had stopped working and was looking quite sad – the really scary kind of resignation-sad. The kind that's stopped looking for anything else.
"Or maybe I just never had the guts to through myself fully into a relationship – it's too… vulnerable. I've never trusted anyone that much I guess."
"Maybe you're just wise though – I mean I put my heart and everything on the line both times I got married and it wasn't enough."
"Well they were both fools to let you go without a helluva lot of fight."
"Oh, plenty of fight, that was half the problem."
"That's not the kind of fight I meant." Susan smiled, knowing he was deliberately misunderstanding her.
"So…" he turned back to the books, "Where do you want this one?"