The Book

4

Monday mornings always smell of bleach. Sundays, after Max has left, involve swift and lacklustre cleaning before the week ahead, and the scent of it lingers to Monday.

This Monday, I was more pessimistic than normal about my day ahead, and struggled to get up. When I finally did, I was late and rushed around gathering my things together. As I did, Cathy's book fell from the arm of the sofa. This reminded me to quickly scrawl a note in the thank you card I had bought, before I headed out of the door and half-ran down the street to the train station, just in time to catch my train.

On the train, my panic subsided and I took my book from my bag. This morning, I'd chosen the Isis love story, snatching it up in a rush as I left the flat. It was hardback and heavy, and the words felt hard and heavy too. I closed my eyes instead, and dozed until I reached my stop.

My morning was spent with the usual drudgery, emails, taking calls, writing letters, listening to Erin gossip about her Friday night. I was bored, I felt restless. I felt as though I had nothing to look forward to- the next weekend was so far in the future. To break up the day, as soon as my lunch break arrived I picked up my card and walked down the corridor towards the room where Cathy worked. It was a big room - bigger than the one I worked in - and the sales staff worked here, so it was noisy. There were about twenty people in the room, all shouting into their phones. I knew all of them, vaguely, from our work events, so I smiled and nodded at those who acknowledged me. I walked around the room, looking for Cathy.

A big man, both in weight and height, stood up and strode over to me. He touched me on the shoulder. 'Rebecca! We don't often see you in here.'

'Hi Joe. How are you?' Joe was fine, he liked to joke and seemed harmless. I could put up with him.

'All the better for seeing you! You should visit us more often.'

I smiled at his untruthful flattery, remembering my scraped back hair and social awkwardness. 'I'm actually just looking for Cathy. Has she gone out for her lunch?' I made a show of peering around.

'Sorry to disappoint, she's not in today.'

'Is she sick?'

Joe shrugged. He wasn't the manager, how would he know.

'Oh well, I'd better go back then. I'll try and catch her tomorrow.'

Joe nodded smiled, waved his farewells and was back on his phone before I had left the room.

I spent the rest of my lunch hour reading the book. After the thriller I had enjoyed so much, this one felt flat, forced. That's the problem when you read a really good book. Nothing can live up to it for a while. The comparisons are too obvious.

The rest of the day passed in a stupor. I tried to focus on my tasks, but they bored me too much, my mind ended up wandering. I made a few silly mistakes, gave a customer the wrong information, missed a number out of an address, accidentally deleted a file. Nothing that couldn't be solved, but they were errors that I wouldn't normally make. Erin had given up on giving me the gossip, she was now brazenly scrolling through Facebook on her computer. Monday must have been just as hard for her as it was for me.

There were ten staff in my room; the three admin staff, then accountants and the boss, the senior managers and a secretary. The boss had an office with glass walls, where he could sit and watch his staff. But it was interesting to watch him sometimes, when he forgot that his walls were see through. He would pick his nose, or scratch his crotch. Today, I was looking at him when he received a phone call. He was often rude on the phone, so I watched to see what he did this time. He spoke little, he nodded. I sensed that something was wrong. He turned completely pale, dropped the phone and stood up. Looked like he might faint. He strode out of his office and through our room to the corridor, to the exit, without looking at or speaking to anyone.

This caused Erin to look up from her screen briefly. 'Ha! Looks like he's been caught. I knew he was having an affair.' The silence that had fallen over the room broke, and there was an excited gabbering as everyone began to guess whether Erin was right.

My boss did not return before the end of the day, two slow hours later. His phone receiver, dangling over the edge of the desk where he had dropped it, was eventually put back in its place by one of the managers. I left the office at 5pm feeling a mild curiosity, but not enough to hang around the office and wait to see if he came back like some of the others were doing. I just wanted to be at home.

It was colder today, the overcast sky made it seem darker, and I had my head down as I strode to the station. I knew I had no food in the flat, I should go food shopping for the week, but I couldn't be bothered. I really, really just wanted to be at home. I would order myself a takeaway, that would be fine. A takeaway and the leftover bit of wine in the bottle from yesterday. That would be a good way to treat myself, seeing as it was Monday.

I was hungry, so I started browsing the takeaways when I was on the train. There were hundreds in my area, and I was paralysed by indecision. Did I want Thai food? I liked the idea of it, but when I scrolled through the menu options, nothing jumped out at me. Japanese? Sushi seemed a bit too healthy for a takeaway night. Pizza? No. I eventually decided on Mexican - I had a hankering for spice and carbs. I ordered pork tacos just before the train arrived at my station, so that there wouldn't be a long wait when I got in.

I was always glad of my lazy Sunday cleaning spree when I got home on Monday evenings. When I had first got this job, fresh from university, and was finally able to ditch my housemates and afford a poky little flat of my own, I had an inertia about cleaning and tidying. I've never had an orderly mind, and mess doesn't bother me as much as it does other people. But then it reached a stage where I couldn't invite people over on a whim, where I would have to clean before doing anything. I'd shaken off my nosy housemates, their bossiness and passive aggressive notes, and I'd settled into my joy at not being told what to do. But it was to my detriment. I don't remember when it clicked, but eventually it did, and my Sunday evening cleaning ritual began. Now my only clutter was my books, and as books are beautiful, they don't count.

It was 6pm when my takeaway arrived. I had had the one glass of wine left in the bottle from yesterday and considered opening another, but restrained myself. I would enjoy my tacos then have an early night. After my rushed start to the day, I felt that I needed a proper rest. I'd been plagued by dreams the night before. I needed to sleep long and hard.