Page 6 of Crying in the Rain

2. Buy mints.

3. Delete voicemails.

Pride glimmered in his periphery. He hadn’t even listened to them, but for safety, he overwrote item #3 with:

3. Breakfast.

Low-level chatter interspersed with clangs from the kitchen greeted him at the cafeteria entrance, and he slowed his pace, trying to appear casual and normal as he passed by the cleaners grabbing a quick cuppa mid-shift. A few of the clerical staff were in too, he noticed, but no management yet. No presenters, either; most came in, did their show and left.

Reaching the counter, Ade dragged up as much of a smile as he could. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best he had.

“Morning, Pip.”

“Good morning, Ade.”

He scanned the breakfast stuff on offer, fried eggs, sausages, bacon, shrivelled and unappealing, same as him with Pip’s glareburning into him. She wouldn’t say anything, but she’d know, and he hated that she’d know. Her concern hovered like a warm blanket, so close, yet he couldn’t reach it, didn’t dare try, so utterly ashamed.

“What would you like?” she asked coolly. “Coffee and a bagel?”

There was no chance of him chewing his way through a bagel. “Porridge, I think.”

“You hate porridge.”

“The one with—” Someone queued up behind him and he reworded on the fly. “—Tate and Lyle is OK.”

“Are you sure? I could do you some scrambled egg.”

Ade nodded. “Thanks, Pip. You’re the best.”

“I’myour bestie, and don’t you forget it,” she said sternly, and he nodded again but couldn’t look at her. She was the best friend he’d ever had, so kind and supportive, always there when he needed her whether he’d asked for her help or not. Still, it was hard to remember sometimes that she wasn’t angry with him.

“Go sit,” she prompted, her tone gentler now, which was somehow worse.

Obediently, Ade set off towards his usual table but then stopped mid-step when he spotted the man sitting alone in the back corner of the cafeteria, his poise relaxed as he watched distantly out the window, very much the chilled Scandinavian. He picked up the cup in front of him, glancing around the room as he sipped, not entirely coming off as someone amenable to company, but in the second or less that they made eye contact, Ade knew he had to take a chance and went over to introduce himself.

4: Company

Kris

“Mr.Johansson?”

“Yes?” Kris startled, though he wasn’t overly surprised, given he’d met the man’s gaze, briefly and by accident, but he couldn’t recall having met him before.

“Ade Simmons,” the man said and held out his hand. “I’m working on the play with you today.”

“Ah. That makes sense.” Kris shook Ade’s hand and gestured to the seat opposite by way of invitation. “I prefer Kris, if that’s OK.”

“Got it.” Ade sat. He seemed a cool operator, very formal.Maybe they use last names here.

“Sorry.” Kris backpedalled. “Mr. Johansson is fine, but…he’s my dad, not me, if you see what I mean.”

Ade’s smile was very controlled, almost fake. “My dad passed years ago, but I’m just the same.”

“Sorry about your dad.” It was a silly thing to say, and Kris felt foolish. Ade didn’t seem to notice.

“Thank you, although he didn’t live with us, so…”

One of the serving staff appeared next to the table. “Your coffee and eggs, sir,” she said, placing the mug and plate in front of Ade.

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