Silence, Friendship, and a Few Drinks

As I get older, I prefer to work in silence. Other people are just distractions, trying to talk and focus on things other than work,  and so I don’t interact with them much. I work best alone, and I, somehow, have managed to avoid making any friends around here. Of course, it wasn’t always like this– everyone here has a team. But accidents happen,  and one happened to my team, and I requested not to be reassigned. It was only because of my team’s good will around the company that I was allowed that privilege. I work alone, in silence, and I do my work well. The section supervisor has had her eye on me for years, and if our semi-casual relationship means anything, I’m due for a promotion or two here in the next few years. Then again, time doesn’t really mean anything around here. Not like anything is going to change anytime soon, seeing how the boss forgets that us little people actually age. Selling my soul to a dodgy immortal may not have been the best decision of my life, but I gained a family here. Friends. Everyone who works at Lacewings has a reason for doing so, and until the accident happened, my reason was a damn good one. 

One of my co-workers, Bea Roe, sticks his head in my office, doing an obnoxious knock on the inside of my door. He was a man of average height, with sandy brown hair that was always slightly out of place. “Howdy,” he grins, “Couple ‘o us are headed out for the night, gonna stop out by the party store and shout about the park. Want in?”

“Not right now,” I grit out. Every time Roe stops by, it’s at least a five minute conversation, and I’ve got work to do. I don’t have time for his seemingly endless southern ‘charm.’ Even Jeremiah was never this annoying, and if I had less tact I would shout this fact at him, make Roe wonder why he was less tolerable than a dead man. It would hurt Roe’s feelings, the poor guy, but maybe it would teach him to leave me the hell alone. However, I know it would only make the boss upset, and push off my promotion for another few years, so I shut my mouth and turn back to my computer, hoping Roe would get the frankly obvious signal. 

“So, is that a maybe? We got about an hour ‘till it closes, and three before the cops’ll be called on us for lurking.” 

I groan, just a little too loud. “Listen to me. Look at me, Roe. I don’t want to go out for drinks. I don’t want to go lurking in a park. I want to get my work done, so that I can go home. Understand me?”

Roe scoffs at me, not bothering to reply before backing out of my office, the door sliding shut behind him. My face flushes with emotion that I quickly temper, taking several deep breaths before flicking back over to my work document, trying to find the place I had left off. The longer I look, the more pissed off I get. I don’t understand why people insist on trying to talk with me. It’s not like I advertise myself as someone to talk to in the dead of night after bad dreams, to tuck you back in with a kiss and a glass of milk at your side– no. Far from that. The last person I opened up to was dead, they were all dead, and that was just fine with me. 

I should have been on that mission, but I was sick. I was used to being the slacker of the group, and everyone else was too. I stayed behind, and the rest of them never returned, so I doubled down on my work and became the best corporate drone that this company has ever seen, because maybe if I was good enough they would let me go back and fix my mistakes. I would do anything to fix what I have done, and I know it’s possible. It makes ever denied request sting a little more each time, busily working my way up the corporate ladder.

I prefer to work in silence, but right now the quiet is choking me, as I imagine all the little sounds that my team would have filled the space with. Jeremiah and his soft snores. Rebecca, and the sounds of her flipping the pages of her book to try and resume her spot– she was always being interrupted but never had any bookmarks on her, and when the time came to go she would set it down with an annoyed smile. Josie would be knitting something over in that corner, she never could keep her hands still, and it’s easy to picture Rowan silently fussing over us the way they always did. Even when quiet, my team made noise, and it’s this gentle sound I miss so dearly, the type that leaves normal silence feeling so empty. My memories are the only thing left of my team, including my hopes of this loud silence that I couldn’t possibly recreate on my own. 

Maybe I should go out for drinks. I still haven’t found my spot on the document, and my door is still hanging open a sliver since Roe didn’t fully shut it. It’s just easier to stay here, alone. The thought of actively interacting with others, when that’s the thing I’ve been avoiding for the past year–it leaves me nervous. There’s always work to be done here. I could use that excuse for another decade. I could shut myself off, bury myself in my office and ignore every good looking, vaguely southern man that knocked on my door. I could pretend like nothing happened, and leave well enough alone. I could ignore the fact that I got my team killed, and solidify my reputation as the office's introvert.

But. But. My door is still open, just a little. Getting drinks with Roe couldn’t be that bad, right?