Bubble Gums and other Insipidities

"Johnson & Merryweather, IT, Connors on the phone. How may I help you?"

Bored, I wrap the old-fashioned telephone cord around my left index finger and continue chewing on the much too bland chewing gum in my mouth, which after only three minutes had lost the taste of 'Bubblicious Blueberry' - as advertised on the packaging - and only tastes 'Bubblicious' instead. What a disappointment.

The silence that follows my words on the other end of the line almost seems like I had loudly shouted 'surprise' into the receiver. Or 'McDonalds, please place your order.'. As if the caller himself wasn't so sure why his fingers had just dialed this number. Then:

"Yeah, um ... Taylor here. I would like to speak to Mr. Merryweather. "

"Of course, one moment please."

Cumbersome, I push my chair away from the edge of my desk and lean on its armrests, trying to peer across the computer screen into my bosses office. Why this office was ever set up, remains as much a mystery as the construction of the stone statues on the Easter Island. I've never seen my boss stay in this office - actually on the entire floor - for more than half an hour. Really thinking about it, my boss was the Blueberry among the department head bubble gums. Hardly there, gone again.

Even now, a yawning emptiness greats me glancing between the open double doors of the office room and I let myself flop back into my chair. I'm sorry, sir. Mr. Merryweather is having lunch for the seventh time this day.

"I'm sorry, sir. Mr. Merryweather is in an important meeting right now. Can I help you? "

"No, no ... that's all right." The man on the other end of the line sounds almost relieved. Understandable. "Then I'll try again tomorrow."

He hangs up with a loud clack and the aggressive sounding rings in my ear. Oh no, of course, Mr. Taylor. Yes, I wish you a nice evening, too. Oh yes, thank you, I often hear that my voice sounds like that of an angel. Do they miss me in heaven? Mr. Taylor ... you charmer!

Grunting I hang up the phone and roll closer to my desk, on which several stacks of paper and loose sticky notes argue for the supremacy of orderly chaos. With the back of my hand, I push the pile of papers to one side and get a look on my monitors flickering screensaver. The tiny specks of dust magically attracted to its surface gleam innocently in the light of the sun rays, or dance across the keyboard in the same dark yellow light of Washingtons evening sun.

A glance at my watch tells me that I could finish work in a few minutes.

"It's still a mystery to me how you can keep track of this mess." The sudden voice in my back makes me jump.

Ben.

My best joker grin on my lips, I turn around. "Chaos? I'm an agent of chaos. "And at my next words, I raise an eyebrow meaningfully. "And you know the thing about chaos?"

Ben's brown eyes sparkle with amusement before he drops into the chair on the other side of my desk and answers with the same deep voice, "It's fair."

Grinning, he reaches for my red koosh ball, which apparently lay behind the thick pile of paper next to my computer screen and throws it in the air above his head. "Please, Cath. Swap the desk with Jim - he's boring. He knows no movie quotes."

"I heard that!" Jim.

"You should!" Ben.

Smiling, I glance over my shoulder at the desks a few rows away on the other side of the, at this time virtually empty, open-plan office and give Jim a knowing smile. The glasses of the black-haired man reflect the bluish light of his monitor and disguise the playful piqued expression in his eyes, but his lips show a slight smile.

I turn away and just see Ben leaning forward conspiratorially. "I'm serious-all he can say is ‚I carried a watermelon'."

Amused, I watch as my colleague grins back and continues to throw the ball and catch it again. His forehead - including brown eyes, Owen-Wilson nose, dark brown hipster beard - is furrowed in concentration and his red checkered shirt throws rebellious wrinkles every time he raises his arm. Suddenly he points with his free hand on my phone. "Did Merryweather accidentally turn you into his secretary, again?"

"Accidentally? He does it deliberately ... "I snort. Normally, all calls to Mr. Merryweather would be routed directly to his office phone. Only when he was not in the office could he divert them to one of the phones in the department.

"How likely is it, that he accidentally picks my speed dial every time? There are about twenty people working on this floor. "Accusingly, I pop a bubble of gum in front of my mouth.

"I've never been good in probability calculations." Ben grins at the red ball in his hands and pats it thoughtfully between his fingers, like some kind of anti-stress ball. "Listen, Cath ... about the wedding…"

"Oh, no!" I shout in supplication rather than annoyance, almost choking on my chewing gum. "Don't you dare call this off now!"

I just couldn't use another punch in the stomach right now. Having already had no success on the fabric flower front in Aberdeen on Saturday convincing the other bridesmaids that the dress is rubbish ("These dresses are fabulous, Clarice!" "You've outdone yourself with this selection."). I cannot lose my date now, too.

"Cath, I ..." Ben.

"Ben, please ... the dress looks like I want to act in High School Musical, and if I show up there without a date ..." Desperate self.

"Amanda doesn't want it."

"... who is Amanda?"

For an outsider, it must sound like my fiancé was just telling me that he was cheating on me. With Amanda. Which is complete nonsense, of course.

Ben and I have known each other since our first semester at university and it was never more than just friendship between us. Apart from that, we both aren't the type for a committed relationship. Ben even less than me. Well, at least I thought so. Until now.

"You met her at O'Briens three weeks ago." Ben looks at me, out of his brown eyes, as if he expected me to know all of his '' conquests '' over the last few years, by name and address.

"I didn't know it was so serious between you," I finally reply, discretely spitting my chewing gum into the wastebasket next to my desk.

Ben scratches his head in embarrassment when he replies mumbling, "Well, it is ... anyway ... I can not go to the wedding with you."

"Oh, come on." By this time, I feel like a little whining child, who desperately wants to watch an episode oft the Teletubbies. And then again. "It's only four days. You can tell Amanda that she does not have to worry, I'm not going to attack you ... or anything like that. "I get chills only thinking about it.

"I know ... but ..." I feel almost sorry for the way he's sitting in front of me, crudely and guiltily, like a crumpled up eco-paper bag. But only almost.

"May I remind you that I've played your fake girlfriend three times already? You owe me."

"Oh no!" Ben shakes his head vigorously. "If anything, you owe me. Do you know how long I've had to hear from my dad that I'm an idiot for "breaking up" with you? "He makes little air quotes with his fingers and then rubs a finger over the bridge of his nose. "Every time I visit him and Mom, he asks me if we are maybe getting back together."

I have to grin inevitably. "Your Dad is great."

Ben glares at me.

"But you owe me for the second time," I say quickly. "My hair stank of that sticky green stuff for weeks." I mumble at the memory of St. Patrick's Day two years ago, before adding, "And your reunion last year."

"That doesn't count either." Ben leans forward again slightly and strokes his chin-beard. "You had a lot more fun than I did."

"Not at all." I try to suppress a grin.

"You've told nearly all of the guests that you've just returned from an expedition to the North Pole."

"It was scary how many people believed me."

"That it was."

"So?" With big, sad eyes, I look over the pile of white paper in Ben's direction. If he had to cancel, then at least he should have a guilty conscience.

Ben looks up from his hands, as if hoping for a fire alarm test run. "Cath, I'm sorry. I want to do it right with Amanda this time. "

Great! So Ben decided to become Prince Charming all of a sudden.

"Well let me know when you find your manhood again," I murmur, shoving the pile of papers back in front of the screen. That was mean and I know that. And not very creative. But I will not let him get away that easy.

From the other corner of the office, a faint giggle that sounds suspiciously like Jim's hovers over to us.

"Ouch ..." Ben pretends to rub his cheek before his face suddenly becomes expertly serious and he puts the koosh ball back on my desk, his gaze flicking past me lightly.

"What?" I ask, putting a playfull horrified hand over my mouth and whispering, "Do not say that your manhood is right behind me?"

Ben gives me a quick grin before he gets up and nods behind me. "Mr. Merryweather. "

"Mr. Peters. "Already the subliminally annoyed voice of our boss blarts through the office, accompanied by a cloud of omnipresent masculine fragrance that could stand up to any perfumery. He nods in my direction. "Connors. I diverted my calls to your phone. I hope you did not have a problem with that. "

"Oh no. Of course not. "I shake my head vehemently and can barely keep my hands from jerking up like I'm in some sort of a robbery a gun pointed right at my head. "I-"

"Good." Mr. Merryweather taps the keyboard of his Blackberry with his oversized hands and walks past us toward his office.

"Of course not, yes?" Ben is standing next to me, grinning as if he'd just caught me sneaking a candy bar out of my pocket while dieting.

"Oh, shut up." Defeated, I lean back in my chair and look toward the ceiling, the gloomy gray of which seems to speak from my soul.

"Oh, that reminds me." Ben taps his foot against the back of my chair, causing me to protest with a moan. "If you find my manhood, you're welcome to keep it. It seems to me you need it more than I do."

"Ouch ...," I grumble, while Ben moves back to his desk with a big grin in his face, throwing his bag over his shoulder.

I could use another bubble gum.

Another chapter out of Caths point of view to get to know the main character better. In the next chapter I'll dare to change it to Steves point of view. Have a nice Weekend!:)