Revolt

11. Myopia

“People who aren’t there can say it was idiotic or shortsighted, but when you’re in a moment when horrible things are happening in front of you—sometimes you just need to act on what’s best.” – Bob Morley.

•••

“Good morning,” Anjola greeted the room, after twisting the door knob and letting herself into the office. She was expecting the usual—Adaure and Ehize at their respective desks tending to their work—but instead, the duo were huddled behind Adaure’s desk, discussing. It wasn’t until she strode over to her desk, to drop her bag that she realized Delano was in their midst and addressing them.

Her brisk pace slowed down a bit, as her brain assimilated the imagery in place and speculated on why exactly Delano was in the room. He had never addressed her team, behind her back and always went through her and so it didn’t make sense, that he’d do such now that they were technically partners as a result of the absence of the department’s head.

The trio turned to face her, or rather—Ehize and Adaure, since Delano didn’t have his back turned to her. She steadied her stance, with her right hand gripping the back of her chair and faced them.

It was a Monday morning, and protocol dictated that every worker was strictly corporate dressed and so everyone in the room was. Ehize in a white starched, Hugo Boss shirt, blue skin tight khakis and brown brogue boots. Adaure in a white chiffon blouse—dotted with miniature pineapples of varying colors—black palazzo pants, and nude wedges. And Delano in a black blazer, draped over a maroon button-down, mud-brown chinos and black Oxfords. There were times, she wondered if her coworkers were the stars of a popular, hippie teen show as regards to how they always looked dashing.

“Hey, Anjola.” Delano returned her greeting with the wave of a hand, and a smile as he pushed himself off Adaure’s desk, where he was previously leaning on. “No need to fret. We weren’t meeting behind your back, and conniving on a way to strip you off your post here in the office. I just came by to ask for the fuel expenditure documents, and got seduced by Adaure’s and Ehize’s gossip about the daughters of the C.E.O.”

“Oh,” Her eyes widened in comprehension, and she nodded. Ehize and Adaure on the other hand, didn’t bother giving her verbal greetings and resumed their conversation with such gusto and enthusiasm, that she knew it was staged. It was an intentional action, to exclude themselves from the conversation. It was a recurring theme, anytime Delano was around. She didn’t know how else to tell them, that a romance between her and him was improbable. “Which daughter is this gossip about, and what exactly is the gossip about?”

“The gossip is actually, about the gossip surrounding the fact that Zoe, the elderly daughter is almost thirty-five and yet to you know…settle down.” Delano replied, closing the space between them and folding his arms. Ever since, his botched effort to clinch her heart—there hadn’t been a lot of talking between them. Matter of fact, she felt only comfortable and relaxed because Ehize and Adaure were in the room also. Not that Delano’s presence was suddenly intoxicating—but it was mostly the guilt, ripping her apart from within.

“Some people find it curious, that a rich, attractive young woman like her is yet to notch a man, so they assume something might be wrong somewhere. Then, the woke females find this annoying, that people assume every woman is interested in getting married.

“Which makes sense, but then the other school of gossip argues again that she isn’t exactly doing anything great, because she isn’t a household name so definitely isn’t pushing career shit. Her Instagram followers also corroborate this fact, that all she does, is mostly party all day and night. So if she isn’t pushing career, might as well take marriage seriously? Then the woke women still go on to argue, what she does is nobody’s business and that it’s her life.”