The Dysfunctional Affair

Vacation Blues

My cell phone rang. I checked the flashing caller ID and grudgingly hit the talk button.

"This is Nadine," I said quietly.

"How was Russia?" Zeke Laroche asked.

"Beautiful, magnificent, breath-taking, amazing," I paused, "if you give me a second I can probably come up with some more adjectives, but they won't do it justice."

"I get the picture. I need to talk to you."

"Uh, today's not good; I have tons of things to do." This was the truth; I'd been in the office three days, and hadn't gotten anything done. Even my email had been left unread. I knew I had a case of the vacation blues, but wasn't sure what to do about it. I'd bawled on the return flight, hating the idea of leaving Russia.

"I'm sure you do." The door to my office opened. Zeke stepped inside, squeezing the phone closed. "But Lucy says you haven't sent her a single email all week, so you obviously aren't looking at them."

He checked the ceiling before taking a seat across from my desk. This had become standard operating procedure since a pencil fell down, hitting Anthony in the head.

"What's up?" I sighed, resigning myself to the task of talking.

"You haven't read your email."

"Sure I have."

"Liar, if you'd read it, you'd know I was currently homeless."

"Oh, yeah, about that," I groped for something to say. I hadn't read a single piece of email and had no idea what he was talking about. "I'm sorry about the fire; did you manage to save anything?"

"What?" Zeke shook his head and closed his eyes, a smile curling up the corners of his mouth. "My house didn't burn down."

"Oh, was it flooded?" I folded my hands on the desk. Zeke shook his head again. "Infested by termites, rats, maggots, in-laws, ghosts, poltergeists, zombies?" He shook his head at each of these suggestions, the smile widening as my suggestions became more ridiculous.

"You aren't even close."

"All right, why are you homeless?"

"Denise tossed me out about six months ago. I've been living in an apartment, but the neighbors are complaining about the hours I keep. I need a place to stay for a while."

"Did you ask Sebastian?"

"Yes, he's sleeping on Jacob's couch. His girlfriend tossed him out too."

"Oh, well, what can I do?"

"You have three extra bedrooms. I could rent one from you for a while."

"Me?" I frowned harder. "I don't think that's a good idea, I mean I am your boss."

"Nobody cares; several suggested I contact you about a room."

"Why?" I couldn't hide the surprise.

"I can't tell you." Zeke smiled.

"Well, who said it?"

"Again I can't tell you that. If I tell you, you'll get pissed off and spend the next three weeks bitching at everyone and giving them shitty assignments."

"Oh, come on, you're killing me. I have to know what they said. I promise not to get mad. If you don't tell me, it's going to drive me crazy." I have enough curiosity to kill at least fifteen cats. I really hate it when people allude to things, and then don't tell me what it is.