Moving on

By the time I actually got to the office, my contemplation of the downward spiral of my life since Estelle had died had faded to a dull roar. I was still needed as a functioning individual, and despite every whispered prayer to whatever god was listening, the world was not going to stop. 1

Opening the doors to my cold, impersonal office building always left me feeling that deep down, no one really cares about you. That when you get to the heart of it, the world will keep moving and going and eventually you will be forgotten. Your name might live on, but by then the stories will be a farcry from who you were.2

I worked as human reasources director at one of the largest conglamorate corporations in the US. I was a small person, I didn't do much. I had an assistant, and he had dated her, once, long ago. Before everything went wrong for him. He still worked for me because I understood him. Because I loved her and he loved her.3

In truth, we all loved her. It was impossible to escape, I grew up with her, we were like sisters. I think her brother took it the hardest though. Nick had already shut down long before he ever heard the news, but for her brother, it was like the world stopped.4

He made the funeral arrangements, he went through with everything that had to be done, but I don't think he ever really realized that she was gone. I'm not sure he knows, even now. He doesn't talk to any of us. He hardly looked at me at the funeral. I could barely stand to go. The weeks around it passed like some terrible dream.5

Some days I still wake up in that dream. Some days I call Nick and I ask him to tell me why nothing matters, why she didn't matter, why this whole damn thing will never matter to anyone but us. 6

Today, I was going in to the office to my job. I didn't really do much, really. I mostly directed a team of people who had meetings about how to raise productivity, moral, and all of that. About how to get the most out of our workers. It was sort of like desiging a super effective machine, make it cost effective, make it nice to look at, make it sound desireable. Make the people want it.7

Nick was there to greet me, of course. A cold, blank look was all that he seemed to have left. Ash blonde hair and eyes bluer than cobalt, I could understand why she had fallen so hard for him. There were times when I could remember what Nick used to be, and I would think that I would love to run my hands through that hair, and make his cold eyes warm again.8

But Nick had no room. Nick had nothing left to give. Perhaps that was why I loved him, deep down. I had never said anything, never indicated that there was even a hint of attraction, especially not after she died.9

Though he sat and watched when we heard the news at the office, later, in Private, he held me and told me that someday, all this wouldn't seem so terrible. Some day maybe, we'd understand.10

That day has not yet come.11