The Bagman's Direction

Chapter 44

"Atlas, I'm parched"

I had been filling out a crossword in the New York Times when I heard his scruffy, deep elder voice peak over his paperwork and soar into my ears. I didn't look up, still concentrating on a nine letter word for 'a large quantity'.

"Any preference?"

"Coffee"

"Coming up" I sighed.

I dejectedly tore myself away from the crossword, wishing I had triumphed. If I couldn't beat a simple puzzle, how could I beat anything?

"I'm going to the bathroom first though" I grumbled and he chuckled at my frustration.

I left the office and took a left. I kept tossing over words in my head like 'amount' but that wasn't nine letters and it didn't include the large part of the definition. Plentiful, that was a good one and nine letters too but it dawned on me the 'e' didn't fit with the rest of my scribblings. I tossed over a couple more words in my head, trying the whole process of elimination. As I sauntered through the halls I managed to pass the secretary desk and of course, the lovely Vincent held me up.

"Hey, there's something I need to show you on our way home today"

I leant against the desk and frowned at him. It didn't last long because he was looking up at me with those dumb green eyes and smiling at me. I couldn't help but smile back and I just shook my head, disappointed in myself.

"Fine! But it better not be too long a detour. We can't miss dinner again" I caved, "Oh and before I go, do you know a word for large quantity?"

"Numerous?"

"Ah a letter short"

"Are you doing those dumb crosswords again?" He laughed at me.

"Shutup, Niall said it was good to work my mind everyday. Now get back to work, Vince" I teased.

He rolled his eyes and shooed me away and so I obeyed to his whimsical demand. I continued to the bathroom, still racking my brain for the answer.

It had been a month or so since the argument. I had started the crosswords the day after my spat with Harold. Niall had insisted I start training my mind more often and I just saw it as a good opportunity to use my verbal skills towards something other than fighting. I mean the journal was good but crosswords made me feel useful.

I pushed open the door and strolled to a urinal, unzipping my pants and taking a piss. I sighed, looking around the scarily spotless bathroom decorated in tiles shaped like eagles and stripes and stars.

I wasn't alone. On the other end was another man. He had long dark-chocolate hair which was braided back and out of his face. He had waxy skin and a beard to match his thick hair. He adjusted his crooked large-framed glasses and cleared his throat. I tried not to look below the belt, focus on his profile. He looked old, not wrinkly or full of war flashbacks just maybe a decade older than me. He was definitely passed thirty five at least. He was tall and fit. He was attractive in the oddest of ways.

"Are you going to keep staring or are you planning on making conversation?" He said and it startled me.

He did a couple of shakes and fixed himself before flushing his urinal. I didn't even say anything, I was turning a bright shade of red. I was so embarrassed, I looked back down, ignoring his gaze.

"Well, speak up"

His grizzly voice sounded so familiar but I didn't recognise this man at all. I'd remember someone who looked like that.

"Just admiring your looks, if I'm being honest" I uttered.

I repeated his manoeuvre and joined him at the sinks. He laughed at my remark, beginning to wash his hands. I focused on myself, still refusing to look at him but we were in close quarters here. When I turned on the tap and squirted soap onto my hands, I accidentally brushed against his shoulder. Anxiety was leering over my shoulder.