Mark’s visit
Mark showed up at eight on Monday morning, as if he didn’t know I was running a three-person project on my own. I don’t even have to go into the office so I don’t waste time commuting — and still, at eight-oh-seven, he was knocking on my door. So convenient that he can just stroll into the building using my code.
I let him in with a toothbrush in my mouth. I didn’t even try to pretend I was happy to see him.
“You didn’t leave me any other choice,” he said, kicking off his wet shoes. “We haven’t had a proper conversation in ages.” Before I could say anything, he added, “Just the two of us. Without the others.”
“Why don’t you call me?”
“Because you only pick up when it suits you.”
My eyes widened. I spread my arms.
“Well… of course!” I squeaked.
“Emily, I’m asking for one hour. One hour of your life. As your friend.”
My head tipped back helplessly. I’d already tuned myself into work mode, body and mind. And now I was going to have to listen to Mark vent.
“Have you had breakfast?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.
He stepped up to the kitchen counter, pulled out a bowl, then started unpacking his bag: banana, strawberries, blueberries, Greek yogurt. He grabbed my only sharp knife from the drawer and began slicing.
“Mark… is something wrong?”
He acted as if he were too focused on cutting to hear me. I stepped closer and caught his wrist. I felt the tremor. He didn’t look at me, just stared at the cutting board. I could almost hear his heart pounding.
“I miss you,” he said quietly.
“No,” I replied gently. “You don’t miss me. You miss the care. And the good sex.”
He lifted both shoulders and let out a long breath.
“I had that with you. That’s what I miss. What we had.”
“We were just hooking up, Mark. And that was years ago.”
“Two.”
“More than that. And it’s really not fair to Sofia. She’s a great girl, you know that, right?”
“We don’t fit.”
“Then why don’t you break up with her?”
“I just can’t. Whenever I start thinking I can’t do this anymore, she cooks some incredible dinner, irons my clothes so they smell amazing. Amazing, you know? What does she iron with that I end up smelling like freshly cut grass and face cream? Some kind of heavenly mix.”
“And that’s enough to keep you with her?”
“She’s practical. Smart. Funny.”
“Then why don’t you talk to her about what you’re missing?”
“Because she just doesn’t care.”
“How do you know?”
“Nothing gets her going. Nothing at all. We only do it because she knows it matters to me. She says her body doesn’t need orgasms to feel balanced. I’ve tried everything — toys, different kinds of movies — nothing works. That’s why it would help if you let her into your girls’ talks.”
My eyebrows shot up.
“Mark, seriously? Sofia can’t stand us. Me, especially.”
He waved that off.
“That’s just how it seems. She gets along with everyone.”
“Sure. She’s just jealous of me. And let’s be honest — she has every reason to be. It’s not exactly comfortable sitting there together.”
“Then find yourself someone already. Next time, bring that kissable-mouth guy.”
“He’s in Norway…”
“That’s rough. What about dating apps?”
I groaned.
“I’m too lazy for that, but I’ll take a look. Anyway, I don’t have room for any kind of relationship right now.”
“Not even a… practical one?”
I shook my head.
“Not even that.”
He slowly stirred the yogurt and fruit, then went still. Only his chest moved, rising and falling steadily.
“Want a quick one now? I still remember what gets you going.”
My mouth fell open.
“You mean you’d squeeze me in between two bites of yogurt as a favor?”
“Yeah.”
“And then you go home, eat what she cooked for you, and pull on your stretched-out T-shirt that smells like face cream and freshly cut grass — which she washed, of course, and folded neatly into your wardrobe…”
Sadness tightened painfully in my chest. Poor Sofia. I wished she’d find someone who actually appreciated her — and kick this ungrateful jerk out for good.
Mark’s ears flushed bright red. That reassured me. At least there was some trace of shame in him.
Without a word, I took down two bowls and divided the fruit and yogurt between them. We ate in silence, occasionally glancing at each other. I shook my head; he pulled his mouth into a puzzled half-grimace. Thankfully, he kept his promise, and within an hour I was able to start working.
I spent my afternoon break in the little shop downstairs, listening to the cashier and one of the women from the building gossip. They got so absorbed that they forgot I was even there, though I’d already stepped up to pay. They were talking about a young couple on the sixth floor. They’re getting divorced.
At first I wanted to interrupt, but then I stayed to hear the whole story. The wife had cheated on her husband with his brother. Quite a twist. I had to hear the ending. She’s moving in with the brother with her two kids — and he already has two of his own. Christmas dinners are going to be interesting.
Saturday evening, Dave invited all of us to a restaurant he’s planning to buy. Supposedly because he missed the “youthful energy,” but I think he just didn’t have anyone else to show off to. What a blowhard.
I honestly don’t know who would want him as mayor. Maybe the women in town will vote for him because of his looks and his smooth talk. At first, I thought he was handsome too. Now all I see is that smug half-smile. And Adele’s infections. And his pathological need to brag.
Of course, I feel like a jerk accepting his invitation. On the other hand, in return we had to listen for hours to how fate had blessed him with outstanding political instincts and exceptional business talent.
Adele listened proudly, her eyes shining. Which is understandable. As a lawyer, she’s always been drawn to successful men — the ones who seemed out of reach, the ones she could impress with her intelligence.
To Dave, Adele — with her knowledge and diligence — is a real asset. Their life, their arrangement. And for now, it’s a win-win for both of them.