“Buildings?”
“Architecture, specifically.” He has a really nice voice. Deep, but not too deep.
“Try and google the office number,” I suggest, in case he really is that stupid and hasn’t thought of it.
“I’m already on it.” He’s speaking quickly, both of us aware that he should be minutes into an interview by now.
“Well, good luck. I hope you get it.”
“The right number or the job?”
“Both. Starting with the right number,” I say, with a smile.
“Thanks. Sorry for bothering you. Twice.”
“It’s fine. I’m keen to know now if you get the job.”
“Thanks again,” he says. “Bye.”
“Bye,” I reply as the line goes dead. I stare at the phone for a few seconds, hoping he isn’t silly enough to ring the same number a third time…just to be sure. It wouldn’t be a terrible thing if he rings again, but now I want this man with the lovely voice to actually call the correct number, answer questions about buildings, and get the job. Whomever he might be.
—
It’s not really the done thing to come home from an hour’s spin class and crack open both a microwave meal and a large glass of wine, but given it’s Friday night, that’s what I do. And anyway I wouldn’t have been at the gym if I hadn’t been canceled by a flaky man, with whom I’d already decided I would categoricallynotreschedule. He’s done this twice now and we still haven’t actually had a first date yet. My best friend, Miranda, calls it Cancel-itis. So this glass of wine was the one that I would have had if I had been out. There, I have justified that, if not the hideous microwave curry.
Hours later I flick through the various options on TV and wonder how it is that I’ve managed to watch everything decent on Netflix when I really don’t spend that much time at home. Perhaps, for once, I should watch the news and at least try to be as informed as my co-workers about the daily goings-on in the world. I really need to work with people who watch more trashy dramas thanQuestion Time.
Next to me my phone dings, telling me I have a message. I read it. It’s from a number I don’t recognize, until I look closer and see it’s the American’s. The message contains three words.I got it.
I mute the TV and let it continue showing me a background of filler news pieces that I haven’t been paying attention to.
Does he want a reply? Does he expect one?I’m glad,I type, followed by,Congratulations. I’m guessing you found the right number in the end.
I didn’t pose it as a question. I didn’t expect a reply, but one comes moments later.
Yeah. I apologized for being a few minutes late and told him what I’d done. He was cool about it.
I’m glad,I type. And then I delete it because it is exactly what I’ve written a moment ago. I replace it with,Always best to be honest.
Definitely.
I watch the screen. He isn’t typing. It’s my turn to reply, but I can’t think of anything else to say and so, after a moment, he resumes.
So, England in January. Cold?
A smile finds the corners of my mouth.Very. Sorry about that. Is that when you arrive?
Exactly one month from now. Yeah.
Where are you in Texas?
Austin,he replies.
No, I have no idea where that is. I leave the chat, google Austin, Texas, and then open the chat window back up, ready to display my newfound knowledge.Warm this time of year.
Warm all times of year.
I googled,I confess.Capital city of Texas, so Wikipedia tells me. I’ve just discovered Houston is also in Texas. So there you go.
