Chapter 3

Rebecca didn't go into the office the next day. She decided she could equally work from home. She felt her and Bradley needed some time away. Things were getting a little claustrophobic.

In any case, he said he needed to do a little field work - to talk to a few people nearer the 'coal face.' It suited Rebecca fine.

His remark about her 'stress' had stung her - even days after. She figured it must have hit home and resolved to go to the gym more often. But, would exercise solve her basic dilemma?

She was developing a crush on a colleague, despite her determination not to let such things happen. She hoped it would work through her system in time. She hoped it wouldn't take too long.

Tender documents were being prepared for the company's foray into Global's preserve. That wasn't her field and she was able to leave the detail up to Gordie and his team.

She figured it would take a month to prepare a report for the board, with most of the work supplied from operations. Consequently, there was little left to do for the present, until the tender round next month.

Most of her other work had been offloaded on to others and now she found herself in a wee bit of a black hole for a couple of weeks. Sam suggested she take a short holiday.

It wasn't that she was averse to a break. It was just she'd no idea how to use it.

Rebecca wasn't a 'holiday' kind of person. She couldn't remember ever actually going anywhere. Her breaks she'd always spent at home or visiting her ailing mother.

Her mum was gone now, died last summer, and her brother was working at a university in Canada. They'd barely spoken to each other in years - they weren't the kind of family that kept constant touch.

Perhaps she should visit Canada, she mused? She could arrange to inspect an associated company and have a glance over their systems? It'd be hard to organise, though, on such short notice.

She thought about asking Sam for advice, but it would be too embarrassing. How did you admit to someone you had nowhere to go for a holiday?

The first day she rose at her usual time and busied herself with housework. That evening, she drove to a little downtown cafe for dinner, but left straight after. She was the only one sitting by herself and it was discomforting.

Pretty much everyone she ever knew worked for the company. Bradley had been so right with the insinuation she'd no other life. Was it so obvious that even a relative stranger could pick it up?

She drove around town for an hour, just picking a street and seeing where it lead. She soon grew tired of the exercise. On impulse she headed out to where Bradley lived. She couldn't rationalise why - she just felt she needed to be going somewhere other than back home.

Rebecca pulled up the car a little way down the street where she had a good view of his upstairs flat. There were no lights on and, being early, figured he wasn't home.

Having resolved to leave - she was starting to feel stupid - a bus pulled up in front and Bradley got out. Rebecca watched him as he made his way home.

She was so nervous she almost cried. Indecision cleaved her heart in two. Should she march up and knock on the door? Or leave, and go home to her cold apartment?

Ten minutes rolled on by and it seemed like an eternity. 'The worse thing to do is nothing, ' she heard ring through her mind. This wasn't the intended situation, but, it fitted, just the same.

Rebecca started the car and pulled out. When she was opposite his drive, she swung into his drive and turned off the engine. She put her head in her hands and willed herself into the next step. By chance, that next step was made for her - Bradley came down the stairs to see what was going on.

"Rebecca?" he exclaimed in surprise "I wondered who pulled up. Is anything wrong?"

"No, ah, nothing!" she stammered, "nothing's wrong."

But, Bradley saw that wasn't the case - there was obviously something troubling her and he invited her up. He set her down on the freshly cleared chair she sat in that evening and made a brew of coffee.

"Want a shot in your coffee?" he suggested. She nodded dumbly, still unable to utter a coherent sentence.

Rebecca wished she was anywhere else but at Bradley's apartment. This was a terrible mistake, she concluded, and she searched for a credible means of escape while still preserving her dignity.

Bradley returned with a black coffee smelling strongly of whiskey. She took a tentative sip and shook as the belt poured warmth into her system.

"My, that's strong!" she gasped.

"Too strong?" he asked, concerned. "I can make you another with less..."

"No, I'm not a sissy," she replied.

"Sorry, I..."

He'd once told her she made people jumpy - made him jumpy. She could see that in his demeanor - taking every tone of her voice on board as if it came from the Queen.

"Bradley! The coffee's really all right and it's what I need right now. Thank you."

She could see the man subside a little at the reassurance. He recovered quickly and asked her, again, if anything was wrong.

"I guess I needed a break," she explained. He smiled at that and told her he was pleased she decided to drop in. Was it politeness or a more fundamental pleasure, she couldn't tell. "Look," she continued, "can I ask you a personal question?"

He looked guarded, but nodded slowly.

"Have you been in, ah, a situation where you have some leave and don't know where to go?"

"I see!" Bradley eased back in his chair and looked at his coffee through the glass. "You haven't a relative..."

"In Canada - a brother."

"Some beach house you could hire for a week or two?"

"And then what? What do I do there? Look at the bloody ocean for a week?"

"You could," he smiled. "Some say the ocean is a great reflector of moods."

"Oh, bullshit, Bradley. The ocean is an ocean. What dreamer said that?"

"Keats, or someone. How the hell do I know? I flunked literature."

Rebecca started to laugh. Once she started she couldn't stop and her giggling continued until it began to unnerve the poor guy. "It wasn't that funny," he insisted.

"Sorry," she chuckled, "I guess I needed that."

"So why hasn't a good looking woman such as yourself got a significant other?" he asked.

Rebecca squirmed at the question. She wasn't used to having her personal life put under scrutiny but, then, she started it, again, she reminded herself. "I guess I never found the time," she told him in a small voice. She wasn't used to being floored like this and she felt her resentment start to build again.

"How much time do you need?"

"Bradley!" Rebecca bristled. "Where am I going to find a person willing to put up with my lifestyle - with me?"

"Have you really looked?"

Bradley bore in with those deep blue eyes of his and she felt herself losing confidence.

"I don't need to look for everything on the shelf. I know myself and my expectations."

"Ah, so, maybe your expectations are the problem?"

"There's no 'problem'," she snapped. "I didn't come here for relationship counseling."

"Yes, tell me? Why did you come here?"

"I told you..."

"You had nowhere else to go - I remember."

"Maybe I should go?"

"There's nothing keeping you. Are you going back to that sterile little place in the hills?"

"How did you ... What do you mean, 'sterile'? It's an expensive apartment in a desirable part of town. You've never been there. How do you know it's 'sterile'?"

"You've just answered. I don't need to see it."

"Don't fucking play games with me, Bradley. What the hell is this squalor you live in anyhow? Rather 'sterile' than unhygenic."

"Oh you're fun," he laughed. "Yes, it is squalid. I never stay in one place long enough to unpack the suitcase. This is a squalid little crash pad - a place to sleep and no more."

"There!" Rebecca replied with satisfaction.

"But at least I'm being honest with myself and others. I live like a pig - you, like an ice Queen."

"Ice Queen?"

"Sure! You've walled yourself off in a little palace. How you were hurt so badly you'd want to do that, I don't know."

"Hurt? How..." Rebecca was shocked speechless.

"Likely explanation," he told her. "Terrified of being hurt. That'd be why you've raised your expectations beyond the realistic. No-one's likely to be good enough so no-one's likely to hurt you again."

"Psychoanalytical bullshit!" she spat. "You don't know anything about my life. You're making assumptions!"

"Sure," he agreed. "Assumptions and some observations."

"You're 'observing' me. That's spooky. Why?"

"I observe everyone around me."

"And that's a life?" she scoffed. "Lying back, making assumptions about people? What are you trying to avoid?"

"Ah, yes!" he looked away. "Avoidance! I admit this place closes in on me. I guess that's why I move around so often. That's why I prefer a fixed contract. Don't want to 'settle', see?"

"Yes, I see that!" she told him with satisfaction. "You're a drifter?"

"I guess."

"And you're drifting away from what?"

Rebecca now felt she had the advantage and was determined to press it home.

"I dunno," he shrugged. "I guess I'm not much good at the relationship stuff."

"You're not alone there," she said, more to herself.

"See?" he laughed. "We've lots in common."

"I guess we have," she laughed along with him. "You know? Remember that night of the social? When we had that dance, remember?"

"Of course. It wasn't that long ago."

"I thought someone on the board was trying to pair us up. Isn't that silly?"

"Silly? Why?" he chuckled. "Am I that repulsive?"

"No, of course not. But look at our ages, for Christ sake?"

"I'm 28."

"I know."

"You know? You checking me out?"

"I did see ... Well, look, I'm 45?"

"And that's significant, how?"

"Are you flirting?"

"Are you?"

"Maybe I'm a little tipsy," Rebecca admitted. "How much booze did you put in this coffee?"

"Well, put it this way," he laughed, "there's not much coffee."

"Thought so! What? Some sort of 'leg opener'?"

"You're still flirting!"

"Am not, well, maybe just a little. I need a good laugh."

"And you make excellent company when you've had a few."

"Do I? Well I've only had the one..."

"Yeah?" he scoffed."About three nips!"

"You beast!" she giggled. "Remind me to mix my own drinks when you're around?"

"You told me you weren't a sissy?"

"I'm not. I didn't realise what a slug you gave me."

"I did warn you."

"No you didn't. You're trying to get me carded!"

"Another?"

"I shouldn't, but, maybe, just the one more?"

"You won't be okay to drive," he warned her, getting up.

"Got a spare bed?"

"No!"

"Sofa?"

"Not very comfortable for you."

"For you, stupid! I'm not sleeping on some damned sofa."

"Maybe we can share?"

"In your dreams, sunshine!" she laughed.

"Coffee?"

"Three nips?"

"Just the one," he told her. "You'd be comatose!"