Office Romance

She is applying black nail polish on his manicured nails. That nail polish company pays him a ridiculous amount of money every time he posts a picture of his fingers caressing piano keys, nails the colour of the black keys.

“Yoko Ono.”

He smiles. “That was different.”

“How so?”

“I think the Beatles would have eventually broken up even without Yoko in the picture.’

She ponders over that for a moment, decides that he is right.

“What about Abba?”

“First of all, they were not a rock band.”

“Then how do you explain the dozens of Abba cover songs done by rock bands?”

“For example?”

“Just Google it. My point is, mixing romance with band business never ends well."

“What about Skillet?”

“That is a completely different case.”

“How so?”

“John and Korey are married. Fully committed to each other. For over twenty years.”

He looks intently at her bent head. She has dyed her hair four different colours. He ponders for a long moment, decides to carpe diem because what's the worst that could happen? She could only say no and make his entire world spontaneously combust. But there were worse things than that. Like having to watch as other men treated her as though she was still available. Like watching her live her life as though she was still available. He knows how she feels about him. At least, he'd like to think he knows. Well, there was only one way to find out for sure.

“Hey.”

She looks up at him. He will never get over the feeling he gets every time she looks at him. He holds her hand, lets himself enjoy the feel of her callused fingers, a result of her playing guitar for so many years.

 “Let’s get married.”

She bursts out laughing, spilling some drops of nail polish on his pants. He stands up.

“Sorry. I know how obsessive you are about your designer suits. I promise I will take it to the dry cleaners as soon as I…”

She stops laughing when she sees the serious look on his face.

“I’ve already said I’m sorry. I don’t see why you have to be so…”

He gets down on one knee.

“What are you doing?”

He looks up at her, says her full name.

The other shoe drops. She points the nail polish brush at him in a very threatening manner.

“Don’t say it!”

He says her full name again, determined.

"I forbid you to say it!"

He says her full name for the third time, then:

“Will you marry me?”

Silence. Mountains move. Pigs fly. Hell freezes over.

"Please tell me you're joking."

"Marry me."

"Don't do this to me."

"Will you marry me?"

“Of course I will not marry you!

His entire world spontaneously combusts.

“Why not?”

“Because...because...just because!”

“Is it because you and I are not from the same…?

She looks away, busies herself closing the nail polish bottle. It was too early in the morning to deal with this. Too early in the year. It will always be too early to deal with this particular elephant in the room.

“Answer me please.”

“I need something to eat.”

She escapes to the kitchen to find Idiot 1 and Idiot 2 earnestly wrestling on the floor. Idiot 2 has the physical advantage but Idiot 1 is quick and does not fight fair. He pinches, bites and pulls without mercy. She tries to pull them apart but they are too committed to communicating using brute strength.

She desperately looks around for something she can use to pry them apart. She picks up a steak knife. No. Too dangerous. She picks up a mwiko - the distant cousin of a wooden spoon. No. Too ineffective. She picks up a frying pan. No. She grabs a big empty mug branded with the band’s logo. She fills it with water from the tap then…

Splash!

Idiot 1 and Idiot 2 immediately disengage, affronted.

“What is wrong with you two?”

“He threw away my Muthokoi.”

Idiot 2 looks at Idiot 1. “Your what?”

Idiot 1 gets in Idiot 2’s face. “What’s the point of making house rules if certain people behave as though they are above the rules?”

She cringes, covers up her discomfort by asking Idiot 2: “Did you break any house rules?”

“I did not break any house rules.”

Idiot 1, who is clearly not an idiot, takes out his phone, swipes then reads from it:

“House rule number 257: If you didn’t put it in the fridge, then don’t take it out of the fridge.”

Idiot 2, who is clearly an idiot says: “I was not aware of such a rule.”

“Ignorance is no defense.”

“You think making up 300 house rules is going to magically transform you into a practicing lawyer?”

Lawyer-in-training gives Idiot 2 a venomous look then continues reading from his phone.

“The fine for breaking house rule 257 is 500 dollars, to be deposited in the band’s bank account.” 

She is so tired of all this testosterone-fueled fighting and arguing and proposing… 

“Just pay the fine.”

“I am not paying a single cent until he puts back into the fridge the special porridge that my grandma made for me.”

“I already apologized for that! House rule 154 states that I shall not be penalized for any actions I do while having an episode.”

The two go at it again, this time with words, but she is too distracted to pay attention to their bickering. She watches as he enters the kitchen and heads for the fridge, not even glancing in her direction.

“An apology will not give me back my special porridge. And don’t think you can hide behind your bipolar forever.”

“I’m not hiding behind it! It’s a genuine condition that comes with genuine challenges. We discussed all this when you guys asked- no, begged me to be in the band. I don’t have to stand here and take this nonsense, this...this... blatant discrimination against persons living with mental conditions. Just say the word and I’ll pack my things and go.”

"That would be absolutely awesome!" Idiot 2 declares, "One less crazy person to deal with. Would you like me to help you pack?"

“No one is going anywhere!” She turns to him. “Help!”

He shrugs. “What can I do? Besides, I’m too busy dealing with rejection.”

Wow.

And so it begins.

This. This is exactly why they all agreed to rule number one: no fraternizing with fellow band members!