She Quit

 “I quit!” 

What? She couldn’t quit.

Yet there Tira was: brown hair jumbled in saucer sized curls, metal rimmed glasses sliding down her nose, coffee stained shawl off one shoulder, wooden squirrel earrings swaying back and forth. Tira was here, no doubt about it, and yelling over his desk with quite clear intentions. But she just couldn’t. . .

“I’m telling you, Roy, I am done!” 

Done? What a weird word. To be done means something is completed and quitting can only happen mid-completion of doing whatever needs to be done; therefore, she is either lying about being done and quitting or lying about quitting and actually done with the project. 

Roy adjusted the black tie around his neck. It had tightened into a noose-like-grip since Tira barged through his office door, making even his afternoon tea shake in the mug. 

“I’ve been working on this project for monthsーwith Jason, for god’s sake! Every time I make a proposal, you refuse it! I’ve tried everythingーevery approach. I would ask what I need to do, but I’ve had it!” 

“Miss Walkerー”

“Nope! Don’t you Miss Walker me! All you do is stare out these perfectly shined windows, sipping your perfectly warmed tea, and probably have people come brush your stupidly perfect hair for you. Well, guess what? Perfection is a joke!” 

Tira’s chest heaved. Roy shifted the papers on his desk from one side to the other. Then paused. Would she take this as an act of perfection? Letting the papers rest where they were, he looked up at her instead. Tira seemed to be studying him, eyes in a slight squint and lips creased together. Can’t say I haven’t done the same.

 You have very blue eyes. 

“Say something!” She yelled, shifting her stare to the floor.

Roy nodded and stood, matting down the wrinkles in his suit. Tira was looking at him again, so he removed himself to stand by the windows. The city buildings sparkled in the setting sun, and even still he could see her reflection in the glass. 

“What I can tell you is. . . These windows haven’t been cleaned since last month, my tea is most definitely cold, and my hair has only existed to spite me,” Roy said. He let a small smile pull at the corners of his face. Why are you smiling? She is quitting, remember? 

“Um. . . Oh-I meantー,” Tira stuttered. 

“You meant to say something about you quitting?”

She let out a nervous laugh, “Yes.”

“I don’t like it,” Roy simply put it. Tira just flung her hands up in exasperation. 

Now he was full on smiling. When Tira had her first interview with him, he barely heard a word she said because he was so distracted by the dancing of her hands. Every sentence had its own choreography; a performance Roy grew to expect with continuous intrigue. His own fingers twiddled in the pockets of his dress pants. 

“You are right,” He confirmed, “It is ridiculous. I cannot deny that I haven’t accepted a single proposal from when you first applied for this position and consequently this project. But there wasn’t anything wrong with the proposals.”

“Enlighten me,” Tira said dryly. I will try. 

“You say perfection is a joke yet each time you come up to my office you exercise only in the nature of such perfection. The ideas you have are way beyond what any of your fellow co-workers have introduced. How could I do anything but refuse to let you move on when you continue to make advancement after advancement.”

“That is utterly the worst delivery of a compliment I’ve ever seen.”

There was a hum of silence between them before they both cracked into laughter. Tira giggled into her hands and Roy wished he could press pause like a Netflix show; screenshot it, caption it Tira, and post it as a meme on Twitter. 

Bear with him. He never did have a sense of humor.

“I’m still quitting,” she admitted. 

“Good.” Roy said. 

“What?” Yeah, what?

“IーI guess I kind of need you to quit,” Roy tried to explain. Was he really going to do this? 

“Are you firing me? After all you just said?” Tira asked. Fire re-igniting in her eyes. Roy stepped forward. She didn’t step away. Score? Score. 

“No! I justーIt’s justー” Roy stumbled through his vocabulary, “In the condition you are leaving the company and I have no official authority over you. . . Would you consider haveーhaving dinner?”

“I have dinner everyday,” she stated. Right, that was stupid. 

“With me? Dinner with me.”

“Oh.” 

“Oh?” Were oh’s good? O is a versatile letter of the alphabet; a vowel. Has to be. 

Tira tapped her nails on his desk, tilting her head and pursing her lips. The squirrel earrings tilted forward to graze the side of her cheek. There was a soft rose tint across her face, it bridged across the freckles of the nose. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she spoke. 

“Since the condition is I quit over, say, thirty minutes ago, can dinner be. . . tonight? What do you make of that proposal?” She offered with a smile of her own. 

“I-uh-You do know quitting this company requires some paperwork andー”

“Roy!” 

“Fine, yes. I mean, I accept,” He caved. 

“Well, then. I accept the dinner,” She said, backing her way to the office door.

“Tonight?” Roy asked, following her. 

“Tonight.” 

Then she slipped away, and the door closed in his face.

Sitting back down at his desk, Roy moved all the papers into a single stack and reached for his calendar. His hand tingled as Tira’s name swirled in black inked cursive across the page from his pen. The first time it appeared in his notes, Roy wondered why it felt so familiar. Now he only hoped it became frequent between the meetings and Zoom sessions. Then a realization dawned over him. Shit. He had to tell Susan to look for a new hire. Tira is right. Jason can’t be promoted.