Trying to Throw my Arms Around the World

Degrees of heartache

“Thanks a bunch, Lee.” Millie slammed her gym bag on my desk with surprising force. I had not expected her to be able to lift her arms up that high after her first session with Joan. “Who did you shag to get out of that torturous assignment?”

“Trade secrets, Millie. They can’t be shared.”

“Is she a lezzer then, that Joan? Is she going to come after me and all?”

“Depends. Do you want her to?”

“Fuck you, Lee. I’m a married woman.”

“See it from the bright side. You’re the star of the office now, and Lucy’s going to love you forever. And you’ll have your prime form back in no time.”

“Look at me. I don’t need someone like Joan to whip me into shape. And we all know Lucy will kiss my ass as long as I keep bringing in ad money, after that, who knows what she’ll do.”

“If you ask me, you were lucky to begin with. You’re the lifestyle blogger on this team. It should have gone to you in the first place.”

“Yeah, I did wonder about that. I suppose Lucy thought you needed it more.”

“But now everything’s back in its right place. Isn’t that lovely?”

“Joan asked about you, you know. Wondered how you were.”

“You can tell her I’m doing just fine. No more sore muscles. No more booze police.”

“I gathered that. Did you go on a bender last night to celebrate your freedom?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Millie sauntered off with a surprising spring in her step. I could only conclude that some people were strangely wired to adore brutal exercise regimes. I glanced over at Lucy’s office, as ever closely guarded by Annabelle. I was curious about the details of her deal with Joan, but I would probably need to get her drunk to have her divulge them − and I was in no emotional state for a night of alcohol abuse in Lucy’s dangerous company.

After work I stopped by at Nathalie’s under the pretence of checking up on her baby blues, which she was now officially diagnosed with − it only took living with one therapist and having another in and out of her home for six months after child birth to come to that informed conclusion − but with the added incentive of bumping into Roz and getting some free pub therapy. Anna opened the door for me.

“Lee, I’ve never been happier to see you.”

“Such a warm welcome. I could get used to that.”

“I was about to call you. Our babysitter just cancelled and Nat and I have tickets to a musical. I really want to get her out of the house for a few hours.”

“Don’t say another word. It would be my pleasure. And the boy needs some bad influences in his therapeutically correct life.”

“You’re a life saver.” I was just glad I could be useful to someone, even if it was a six-month-old boy.

“Is Roz around?”

“She’s got clients until nine. I’ll tell her to come up afterwards. She’s not keen on going home early these days, as you might have guessed.” It wouldn’t be in the pub, but at least I’d get to talk to my therapist. The only downside to the way things turned out that night was that I couldn’t drink while little Leo was under my care − not an easy feat with a well-stocked and varied drinks cabinet only a few feet away. And a heart that felt so broken it was almost ridiculous. I had high hopes for my conversation with Roz. I needed her to shed some new light on my situation and inspire me to take the right action. Not that she was an expert in matters of the heart, what with getting hers much more expertly broken than mine had ever been. But, of course, measuring degrees of heartache was as silly as me believing that Lou and I ever stood a decent chance.

To be continued…