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“I’m working on the report that you need on Monday,” Vera spun in her chair to face him, “You know, the one you didn’t ask for until it was 3:30 PM on the night before Thanksgiving.”
Tracy lifted his mug as if he were about to toast her, “You can do it on Monday, as long as it’s on my desk by eight.”
“I’m not coming in at six in the morning on a post-holiday Monday. I’ll just get it done tonight,” Vera turned her back towards Tracy. There was no point in arguing with him, he always won. She continued working, setting up different fields and writing queries. She was so immersed in her work, that a sudden movement off to her left startled her. Caught off guard, Vera jerked, her hand connecting with a coffee mug.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion, the flash of Tracy’s blonde curls, the tidal wave of coffee cresting the lip of the mug, and Tracy’s shriek, as shrill as a tea kettle whistle. “Oh my God,” Vera stood, “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“I was bringing you some coffee,” Tracy whimpered. His left hand wilted, the half-empty coffee cup dropping to the floor with a splash, droplets hitting Vera’s knee-length boots. The mug rolled under the cubical wall in a peculiar ellipse, a trail of black liquid pooling behind it.
As she watched, Tracy’s hand turned a fiery shade of red, his face becoming ashen. “You need to get that under cold water now,” Vera reached for his forearm.
“No,” Tracy backed away from her, “No water.” He backed all the way into his office, slamming the door behind him.
Vera followed him, knocking on his door, “You’re being ridiculous. Come out and take care of your hand.”
“No.”
“Okay, guess I’ll just go back to my desk then,” Vera leaned against the wall near Tracy’s office. The clock on the opposite wall read half-past six. If he came out by seven, she would work another hour, assuming she didn’t have to drive him to the hospital.
There was a knock at the door. “Vera? Are you there? I can’t open the door. I’m a lefty.”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Tracy,” she turned the knob.
Tracy blinked at her innocently, “Lynn is coming to get me. Can you help me with my coat?”
“Please tell me he’s taking you to the doctor,” Vera lifted his coat off the hook, holding it up for him.
“Uh-huh,” Tracy slid his right arm into his woolen peacoat, cringing as it brushed his left.
Vera eased the sleeve over his left arm, “When will he be here?”
“Five, ten minutes.”
Vera ran her hand through her red hair, suddenly conscious of the ink stains on her fingers and the water spots on her boots.
“Veeeera, I can’t do buttons,” Tracy interrupted her thoughts. She buttoned his collar and he coughed, “Not that one.”
“Too tight, huh?” Vera undid the collar and fastened the button over his sternum. She needed to finish his coat before Lynn arrived, or Lynn might think they were being inappropriate. Vera paused, her hands on Tracy’s fourth button. Was it inappropriate? She was just buttoning his coat, and only because he was injured. Yes, he was her boss, and yes, he was cute; but surely it was understandable in the circumstances. It was 35 degrees outside. He couldn’t exactly wander around the city unbuttoned, could he?
“Why are you pinching your face like that? Do you have to go to the bathroom?”
“Yes,” Vera lied.
“Well go then,” Tracy waved her off with his right hand, “You can finish dressing me when you get back.”
Vera scampered to the bathroom, eager to wash her hands and wipe down her boots. By the time she emerged, Lynn had arrived, his glasses fogged from the outside chill, his lips tipped down into a frown. “You’re like a child,” he scolded Tracy, “We can’t leave you alone in the office without some sort of disaster occurring. Last time it was the alarm, the time before you locked yourself out, and now this.”
“It was her fault this time,” Tracy pointed at Vera, “She spilled coffee on me.”
Lynn looked at her, surprise registering in his face, “Oh, you’re here.” He turned his attention back to Tracy, “You probably deserved it anyway. Why isn’t your coat buttoned? You’re going to freeze.”
“Vera, come button me,” Tracy ordered.
Vera could feel the warmth of blush hit each cheek like a slap.
“Quit teasing her,” Lynn began buttoning Tracy’s coat, “and Vera, go home. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.”