heading for the kitchen.
‘Thanks for ordering,’ Alex said, oblivious to the waitress’s rudeness. ‘Everything sounds great.’
‘Now you know what to order for next time.’
‘Nah, I won’t remember,’ he said.
‘Will I have to come with you every time you want sushi? That might be awkward on a date.’ Even as I joked my heart skidded at the thought of Alex on a date. Steady on, girl, I told myself. You’d think I’d be able to look at the man without wanting to lunge over the table. Not even Rory had this much hold over me. And that was at least based on a solid friendship.
I glared at the waitress for the rest of the meal but she remained unaware of my loathing, not even once glancing in my direction. She was all smiles for Alex though. She must have thought he was paying. Or else she had a crush on him. Or … as I suspected, I was Invisible Katie.
The worst part about being a fat woman isn’t that people look at you with judgement in their eyes. It’s that most don’t look at you at all. You cease to be a person for whom they need to account. They look over your shoulder, or at the ground in front of you, or they glaze their eyes and look directly through you. It’s like being a ghost, but with none of the fun of haunting. That waitress wasn’t ignoring me. I was simply inconsequential.
Alex and I went back to the office and straight into our meeting together, as if lunch hadn’t just happened.
I made it sound nonchalant, didn’t I? Our meeting together. Like I had them all the time and hadn’t taken nearly an hour to dress this morning.
Our company was always on the lookout for ways to get more work out of us without breaking EU employment law. So instead of just asking, they liked to make it look like overworking was our idea. We’d had personality tests that told us it was okay to be a workaholic. We’d been given motivational tee shirts and posters. There was a weekly prize for Awesomeness. We were on a slippery slope, one group hug away from going on retreats together to chant affirmations and weave everlasting friendship lanyards.
When Alex asked for a volunteer last month to help implement their latest improvement (vision boards stuck with aspirational magazine images to help us reach our goals), I had to fight the urge to shout Pick me, Pick me with my hand in the air.
Of course it was a stupid idea. But it was our boss Clive’s stupid idea, so everyone had to show willing, at least to his face. My face didn’t garner the same respect. I was now known as Karma Katie around the office.
In the conference room, I tried to shake off that henchman feeling as I double-checked my notes. Yes, Herr Commandant, everything was carried out as you instructed.
Alex pointed to his steaming cup. ‘No coffee for you?’ The very idea baffled him.
It smelled delicious. ‘I’d love to but I’m off coffee at the moment. My heart’s been doing something funny lately.’ As I hadn’t dropped dead from it I wasn’t overly worried about a heart attack. It was more of an unusual rhythm – da-da-da-da-da-da-kerthunk! Sometimes it made me out of breath.
‘It’s not dangerous, is it? You should get it checked.’
‘Oh, I’m sure there’s nothing really wrong.’ I tried not to get carried away with fantasies of him kneeling at my bedside, holding my hand to declare his love.
He nodded, unaware of the role he was playing in my imagination. ‘Let’s try to make this quick. I’ve got another meeting at two.’ He rolled his eyes.
This was his way of letting me know that he might be on the board, but he wasn’t one of The Establishment. He was far too cool for that. He windsurfed, for goodness sake. Just imagine him emerging from the sea, streaming with water, sun glistening …
The vision popped as he opened his notebook to get down to work.
‘Yep, agreed,’ I said. ‘Let’s make it a quickie. I mean … well, I didn’t mean that.’ Well done, Katie. Cool as usual. I pushed a thick lock of hair out of my face, accidently sticking myself in the eye as I did so. ‘Ouch.’
‘Are you all right?’ he asked. I waved away his concern, squinting attractively. ‘So, tell me then. Have you made your vision board? Are all your darkest desires pasted on cardboard for the universe to fulfil? It only accepts paper requests you know.’
‘Every single one is documented for the Fates to act on,’ I said. ‘I even stuck the Philips Pharmacy logo on there. If I could find a photo of Jenny, I’d add it. Maybe with a lock of hair and a voodoo doll.’ Jenny’s latest objection was that we tested the products on animals. We didn’t, but once she was on a roll it was hard stopping her. ‘And I used staples on the really important ones … calorie-free cupcakes and world domination.’
‘Lofty goals. I’m glad you didn’t waste time on trivial things like cancer cures or filthy riches.’
‘Without calorie-free cupcakes, what’s the point of the rest of it?’
His throaty laugh gave me bedroom visions. ‘You always brighten my day, Katie Winterbottom. ’
That’s me, the day-brightener. If I’d had a quid for every time I’d heard that from someone I fancied, the calorie-free cupcake research fund would be nearly full. I suppose being appreciated for my conversations was all right, if he wasn’t going to love me for my body.
‘I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to make our last meeting,’ he said. ‘A good mate got us last-minute tickets to the rugby. Promise not to breathe a word of it to the higher-ups. They think my mother needed a ride to her chiropractor.’
I held up my hand in oath.
‘Your email was very thorough though. I didn’t expect graphics.’
I knew I’d gone overboard when I found myself in the office after eight p.m. trying to animate tiny pencils to march across the presentation.
‘You must let me take you out for a drink,’ he continued. ‘You’ve saved my arse once again. And I suppose you’ll have to save it today too. We need something to show the board. We can’t really monitor progress, can we? I mean without violating HR policy. The damn things are probably supposed to be confidential.’
‘I suppose I could ask everyone if they’ve done it. That’d give you something to report back on. Maybe a few people would be willing to show theirs to the board.’
‘Would you be willing to show me yours?’ he asked.
I’d show him mine right there on the conference table. ‘I, erm.’
‘That sounded rude, didn’t it?’ He smiled, not making any effort to correct it. Did he mean what he’d said?
Then he laughed a deep, rich chuckle that made my reproductive system wobble with glee.
‘Don’t you need to get to your next meeting?’
He ran his hand through his gorgeous hair, blowing out his cheeks. ‘In my next life please remind me to study architecture or film-making, not finance. Honestly, Katie, I don’t know what I did in my past life to deserve this.’
‘You
