Friends With A Prostitute

Chapter 4

Cynthia tried to convince herself that reason she was leaving early for work was because she cared about her job. But she knew that wasn't true. She wanted someone to talk to. About Andrew, about the kids, about her life.

The three hours she spent at her cubicle in the accounting firm every day didn't leave much room for socializing with coworkers. She didn't want to get friendly with them either. She wouldn't be able to relate to their happy marriages and their filled out social calendars. Sometimes when she passed by a couple of them, she heard some of them whispering.

"Who is that?"

"She never talks to anyone."

"A ghost?"

"Wafts in for three hours every day."

She knew they thought she was a weirdo. She didn't care to disabuse them of that belief. It would be exhausting if she had to spend any extra time at work listening to their stories anyway.

But now she wanted a friend to talk to. Someone who would listen to her kindly and make her words count. And even though they had met for only a short while, to her Stacy seemed like the person who would do just that. Listen to her. So, with the faint hope that she would run into Stacy once again, she decided to pass by the street they had met on her way to work. And luck was on her side.

On the other side of the street, she saw the figure she had thought about so many times in the past few days. Stacy was frowning at the phone in her hand. Was this a bad time to interrupt? Then she saw Stacy flick her head, and that faint smile returned to her face. Cynthia had thought about that head movement a lot too, that flick of the head. It made it seem like nothing could ever bother Stacy. Whenever something tried to upset that faint smile on her face, she could just flick her head and forget about it all. Stay unbothered.

Stacy began walking away in those swift elegant strides again, and Cynthia nearly panicked at the thought of missing this rare opportunity to talk to her. She crossed the street without looking for oncoming traffic and ran after Stacy.

"Hey Stacy!" She shouted when she thought she was close enough to be heard. Stacy stopped and turned.

"Oh, Cynthia. How are you?"

"I'm alright." Cynthia caught up to Stacy and began walking alongside her. "Are you going somewhere?" She struggled to hide the fact that she was slightly out of breath from the rush.

"I was going to go back to my apartment. Had to cancel on a client just now. A stubborn idiot. Where are you going?"

"To work. I work at PWC, the accounting firm."

"You're an accountant? Sweet. You won't get the weird looks," Stacy winked at Cynthia.

"Oh, come on. You know what? Why don't we grab lunch somewhere? I'll just call in sick at work. I don't really want to go anyway."

"A rebel, aren't you? My bad influence works that fast. I've already changed you!" Stacy laughed.

"Of course not," Cynthia said quickly, slightly embarrassed at what Stacy thought she insinuated. "I've always hated that job."

"Oh well, if it means I don't have to cook, I'm in. Where do you want to go?"

They agreed to the Pizza place around the corner. On her own, Cynthia would have never picked such a calorie-rich place, but somehow Stacy made her feel it's okay to color outside the lines.

She had a lunchbox of quinoa in her bag which she was planning to eat at her cubicle at work. She never liked quinoa. It always got stuck in her teeth and it tasted like sand. But it was what all the fitness gurus talked about. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten pizza or anything that neared it in the on the "unhealthy" scale. She was excited to try taste all the greasy goodness again.

"It's good, isn't it?" Stacy asked when she saw Cynthia eat a slice of pizza like it was the best thing she had had in her life.

"Oh, it's great. I don't get to eat pizza that often. It's so good!" Stacy took another bite, then stared at the spot she had bitten into, almost as if she couldn't believe how it made her taste buds dance.

"Now why would you do that to yourself? Why deny yourself happiness? I'm pretty sure pizza is the food of the angels."

"It must be. It is so good." Cynthia replied, still staring at the pizza.

"You amuse me, Cynthia."

Cynthia reluctantly peeled her eyes off greasy goodness, "How come?"

"You just seem to be really enjoying that pizza."

"Oh, you know, sometimes I care too much about staying thin, so I don't eat things like these."

"For who? You got a boyfriend?"

"I'm married actually. Two kids."

"If you love him more than pizza, you must love him a lot." Cynthia's face dropped as Stacy said this. "Well, that's one way to react. Trouble in paradise?"

Cynthia realized her mistake, and tried to bring the smile back to her face, "Well, you know how marriage is." They stared at each other for a moment. Cynthia feared that she had struck a chord once again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"Oh, don't worry yourself like that!" Stacy leaned back in her chair and smiled at Cynthia. "I know how marriage is. I just work on the other side of it." She winked again. She saw Cynthia started to say something but then decided against it. "Come on. It's okay. What do you want to know? How I got into it all? Yeah, my job sparks a lot of questions." Stacy took a sip of her drink. There was a smile dancing on her lips.

"I just really don't want to offend you or to come off as judgmental or anything. I think you're a great person regardless of what you do for a living. I mean... I don't know your story so I have not right to..."

"It's okay. I didn't think you were judgmental. Just interested. I understand. Here's a deal: I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours. How did you get to work at a job you hate with a husband you give up pizza for?"