Oysters

In September last year, I started work as an accounts clerk for a large real estate agency in the city, one of the few jobs that suited my dyslexia. I prefer dealing with numbers and being able to concentrate on spreadsheets rather than myriad lines of confusing prose. There are two other people in accounting support roles, John, a small mouselike bloke, who seems incapable of making eye contact, and Jessica, Jess, a dark-haired bundle of energy. She is fanatical about running and every lunchtime she sets off for a run in nearby Hyde Park where she tells us of her love of speeding by the Archibald Fountain and through the Sandringham and Nagoya Gardens. Neither John or I work out.

Jess is John’s polar opposite but the team works well and we all get on, taking turns to buy the morning coffees and supporting each other in the co-ordination of the work. John is especially good on the trust accounting where we hold moneys on new developments and then provide statements to investors who buy off the plan. I’m not as good as him at the work and I’m shy so Jess is the interface between our department and the outside world, assisting to arrange settlements with lawyers who just want to get the hands on the money as quickly as possible.

We all report to a woman boss, Kareena, who is a very hard worker. She is at the office well before I start work at 8.30am and she leaves the office after I finish work at 5.30pm. She is driven and yet remains helpful to her staff. She has skin the colour of coffee and dresses extremely well, with a penchant for expensive shoes. There is a formality and a distance about her that is very “corporate”. She’s poured herself a cup of ambition. My ambition is for the same pattern, the regular crystalising in stability. I just need a female partner to make my life complete.

I’d been lucky in getting this job, although I’ll never get rich on my salary. It’s enough to cover the rent on my one-bedroom apartment in Kingswood and to meet the costs of the groceries and my hockey club membership. I play fourth grade each Saturday. I’m a half back and it’s my job to stop the onslaught of the inners and fast movers, as well as to try and create opportunities for our forwards. Hitting long and hoping is one of out strategies, especially when we don’t have any subs. It’s not a life strategy though where I tend to keep things close.

The longer I work with Jess, the more I admire her: the bright attitude, her smile, the way she keeps up her fitness routine even in bad weather, a routine that translates to a fine-looking body. She talks about everything except herself so she remains a bit of a mystery. She follows politics and gets excited by developments where there’s a move to sustainability. The move to solar in particular often crops up, the sunny side shining through even in her political beliefs.

I had no idea if she was hooked up with anyone and she deftly avoided any talk of her social life beyond discussion of running and sports. She especially loved talking tennis, which she played throughout her teenage years, and her conversation became enlivened when Wimbledon was on the telly, with the late night watching showing in her slightly sleepy responses the following morning throughout the series. She told us that she really liked watching Victoria Azarenka, the Belarussian tower of strength as Jess called her. Azarenka won the 2012 and the 2013 Australian Open and Jess could tell you about each of the games. I could listen to Jess talk all day, the lilt of her voice, the frequent laughter, even the way she turned conversation away from the personal, getting you involved, being a good listener too. I thought she was one of the most attractive people I’d ever met in my life. I wanted her so badly but I had no courage to try and get closer to her.

After about six months in the job, Kareena decided that we should have a fancy lunch on the company. The sales force had done an especially good job and we had a number of developments that had been sold in record time. She told us that the directors were very pleased with the result and with the supporting effort that the four of us had put in, not one single problem with the trust accounts and all settlements done on time and with no fuss.We would be treated to a seafood buffet lunch at Harvest Buffet on Friday lunchtime where we were encouraged to talk to the sales staff and get to know others in the company.

The Harvest Buffet has a great range of seafood: oysters, prawns, crabs, Moreton Bay bugs, and a ton of white fish. There was a surcharge for lobster but everything else available was to be paid for by the company, including a shared bottle of Riesling that went very well with seafood. So, with a standard pour of 150 ml that’s five glasses of wine. The pours could be generous.

I was very happy; I’d had most of my glass of wine. Plus, I love oysters, their succulence, the salty opulence of their flesh on the tongue, the way they slide down leaving an aftertaste of the sea. I loaded my plate and got stuck in to slurping up a number of fresh oysters. This was culinary heaven. I noticed that Jessica had prawns and white fish on her plate but no oysters.

“Hey Jess,” I said “don’t mind me but do you know that the oysters are included in the price? You can have one of mine, if you like, I’ve got lots on my plate. They are really delicious, fresh.”

“Oh no thanks,” she said, “I’ve given them up. They remind me too much of my girlfriend.”