Page 4 of A Song of Death and Desire

Beep, beep, beep.

The blaring of my annoying as fuck alarm wakes me and tells me it’s time to get up and start the process of getting ready for work. I groan and roll over, entwining myself around the warm body beside me. I’m too comfortable and far too tired still to want to leave this comfortable bed. My girlfriend, Kelly, wiggles in my arms, letting out a soft chuckle as I tighten them around her even more as she struggles.

“Babe, turn the bloody alarm off! You need to get up.”

“No,” I grumble, keeping my eyes closed and trying to drown out the screaming of the alarm to no avail. Kelly jabs me in the ribs with her elbow, not too hard but also with enough force behind it to make me roll away from her.

“Come on Eagan, you can do it,” she encourages like she’s my personal cheerleader, hyping me up for the day ahead.

I like my job. I do. I’m a graphic designer for a PR company run by my best friend, Tom. Yes, he’s my boss, which can be kind of weird sometimes, but he is very laid back and never really has to play the ‘boss’ card with me. I work hard for him, and he pays me well and then we kick back and watch the football with a few beers after a long day. It’s a pretty good arrangement. But sometimes there’s days like today where I simply don’t want to drag myself into the office.

Tom’s company has grown considerably over the last couple of years, and we have many more employees now than we started with. This is great for business but does make things a bit more difficult for me as I’m not really much of a people person. The social expectations of working in an open-plan office with a bunch of other people are exhausting. I particularly hate the small talk—“how are you? How was your weekend? Wow crazy weather we’re having!”I’d much rather be in an office on my own or, better yet, work from home but Tom runs his company like a team and always encourages us to get to know each other and socialize. He doesn’t mind my usual stand-offish demeanor, but he still expects me to at leasttryto play well with others. Even though I enjoy the design work that I do, I find the rest of the expectations of my job boring and tiresome, so sometimes it takes a herculean effort to make myself go—or a jab to the ribs.

After a quick shower to try to wake myself up I drag myself to the kitchen where Kelly has a coffee already waiting for me.

Kelly is gorgeous, has tan skin, dark curly hair and curves I love to sink my teeth into. We’ve been together for three years now and things are…okay. I wouldn’t say that we have the perfect relationship, but we are used to each other, and we coexist in a comfortable bubble for the most part. I have no real desire to look for anything else. I’d say we are happy as a couple but occasionally I wonder whether I’m letting Kelly down. Perhaps she can do better than me and can find someonemore compatible with the way she wants to live her life. I try to shove those thoughts and feelings down. If she were unhappy, she would say so right?

“Thanks Kel,” I say as I take the steaming mug from her, sighing as the liquid warms my throat when I take a sip.

“Have you thought any more about what we talked about the other day?” she asks. My introverted personality is a point of contention. Kelly has always been social and outgoing. She has a large group of friends with whom she goes out regularly. She spends most weekends at parties or the bar. She always has plans which is the polar opposite of my preferred way of spending my downtime.

My ideal weekend is staying at home and watching Netflix or doing some tasks around the home. If I go out it’s to the gym or out fishing on my own. Every now and then I like going out for a drink with Tom. Occasionally, Kelly will convince me to spend some time with Tom and his wife, Lacey. I don’t mind this so much because I feel comfortable around Tom, and I like Lacey. I have a couple of people in my life who I can be myself with but even then, I need time to myself after socializing to decompress and recharge my social battery.

Kelly, on the other hand, I don’t think she has a social battery, at least not one that ever goes flat. No matter how tired she is from her day at work, she is never too tired to spend time with her girlfriends. She thrives on social interaction. I love that she has that quality, but god, it’s exhausting.

She gave up trying to persuade me to go out with her and her friends not long after we started dating. I made it clear that those kinds of environments make me uncomfortable. While she doesn’t ask me to come out anymore, she still regularly brings up how I need to expand my social circle. Make more friends. She thinks I’m lonely and that I need to be around people more often. I know that this is her way of showing she cares. Shedoesn’t want me to be alone and she feels bad leaving me at home when she goes out on weekends. But I honestly don’t care, and I wish she would understand that this will always be a way that we differ.

“I really think that you need to try and form friendships with some of the people at work. I know that they go out for drinks sometimes. Why don’t you go along?” We have this conversation every few months. No matter how many times I tell her I’m just not interested in a friendship that extends beyond colleagues, she refuses to accept this as an answer.“We all need friends,”she tells me, but when I mention that I am perfectly content with Tom and Lacey as friends, she says they aren’t enough.

“Okay, Kel, I’ll keep an ear out for when the guys are doing something together next. I’ll go along with them for a change. How about that?” Even though the thought makes me feel uncomfortable, I want to make her happy, and maybe she’s right. Maybe I do need to try and get out of my little shell a bit more. She smiles at me, placated for now.

“Thanks, babe,” she replies as she presses her lips quickly to my cheek before leaving the kitchen to start getting herself ready for work.

I walk into the office with a minute to spare, my second cup of coffee in hand. I make the round of polite greetings before situating myself at my desk. I hear my colleagues chatting about their weekends, their partners, and their kids but don’t feel any urge to join in. They’ve learned by now that it’s not worth trying to include me in the conversations. I’m not rude, and I try my best to be kind, but I think it’s probably quite obviousthat I’m scanning for an exit route whenever I’m dragged into a conversation.

Not long after I’ve sat down, Tom walks in. Tom always looks well put together at the office. He’s tall and keeps his brown hair short and neat. Dark-rimmed glasses circle his brown eyes, and his button-up shirts are always well-tailored. I put some effort into my appearance as well but usually opt for more casual attire. My work is mostly behind the scenes, and I don’t often work face-to-face with clients, so there is less importance in making a good impression. Tom, on the other hand, makes his position in the company clear with the way he dresses. He gives a greeting to the room before coming over to my desk.

“Hey man, how are you?”

“Ugh, okay for a Monday, I guess,” I respond. Tom laughs, knowing my particular frustration with Monday mornings.

“Lacey has been bugging me to get you and Kelly over again. Do you think I can tell her we will make it happen?” he asks. He knows that I don’t like my social calendar to be busy, so he always gives me choices about when and how we hang out.

I nod. “Yeah, for sure. We like spending time with you both. Just let me check Kelly’s schedule, and I’ll get back to you soon,” I say sincerely.

“Great,” he responds with a smile before leaving to go to his own office, separated from ours.Hegets the privacy and quiet of his own office. Perks of being the boss, I guess. Lucky bastard.

In the break room at lunch, I overhear my colleague, Don, talking to a couple of other guys. Don’s about ten years older than me and has a wife and kids. He’s a decent guy but I haven’t made much of an effort to get to know him despite the fact he has worked here for at least a year now. “The fishing here is fantastic,” he says to one of the new guys. I think his name is Steve. Steve nods eagerly in agreement.

“So, you're going out this weekend?” Steve asks.

“Sure am. My fishing buddy Brenton and I go out quite often. It's a good break from the family chaos,” he laughs.

“Any chance I could join you? I love fishing but don't have my own boat.”

“Hell yeah! The more the merrier,” Don says cheerfully.

My mind returns to my conversation with Kelly, and this seems like a good opportunity to show her that I'm trying. I want to make an effort for her. I clear my throat, and their gazes turn to me.

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