Page 57 of Taste

“I can cook. Well, the basics.”

“I can give you a list of things he likes. Balanced small palatable meals… Sorry, mate. I’m being a dick here. How is he? How are you coping?”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I was stuck in a cold basement flat with a man I was starting to adore but who was currently curled up in a small, sweaty ball, and I’d counted getting him to shower last night as a great achievement. How was I coping?

“Overwhelmed,” was what I’d come up with, and it was the truth.

“Don’t blame you. No offence, mate, but I’ve been here, many times. I’ve slept in that bed with him, pulled him through worse than this. It’s been a few days now, so, well. I’m glad you’re here.”

“I don’t know what to do with him. I mean, he’s all right. Sleeps a lot. I’ve got the hang of the meds, I think. He takes them like clockwork, seems really clued up on what he needs. Says the meds make him nauseous and that’s why he doesn’t eat.”

“He needs to drink water, so make him. Also, water gets him up to pee, which can be a good opening to chuck him in the shower. Watch cartoons with him, just stupid shit that doesn’t require thinking. And make him eat three meals a day—more if you can.”

“Anything else?” I’d tried to memorise what he was saying, staring in amazement at the small colourful boxes he was loading into the freezer.

“Don’t worry too much. If he wants curry for breakfast, let him. He’s not hard to handle, just love the shit out of him. I got that right, didn’t I? You’re together now? You’re not here to finally murder him and dismember him in the bathtub?”

“I wish.” I laughed. “Mark hasn’t got a bathtub. And yeah. We’re…together.”

“Thought so.” Ben had smiled. “The two of you haven’t exactly been subtle. All that pining across the lobby. He goes all funny when you’re anywhere near him.” He handed me a mug of steaming tea that I hadn’t realised he’d made and told me to go take a shower.

I hadn’t known what to say to that but returned to the room feeling both less fragrant and a little better about my efforts, finding Mark awake and smiling. I’d loved watching the two of them interact. Ben had sat cross-legged on the bed feeding Mark seared minute steak with a teaspoon while reporting on the football scores, sharing recipe ideas and giving him the lowdown on his girlfriend’s latest overpriced fashion purchases. I’d sat there just listening in and thinking how lucky Mark was to have friends like Ben.

Ben was right about us ‘pining across the lobby’, I couldn’t deny it, not when I went all funny just watching Mark discuss the sad state of our current curtain supplier with Mrs Winter and wondering aloud whether we should just bite the bullet and order our next batch from China.

Our company ethos was important, but at this point I would happily teach myself to sew so I could give him all the curtains in the world, if only to see him smile. I loved him. Deeply and madly and with an intensity I barely understood.

“Good morning.” Mr Klutz came bumbling in, followed by a man I instantly recognised. “Colleagues, if you can please take your seats since we have busy agenda this morning. Mr Rivenescu, as you may know, is here with us today for a routine audit. He will be visiting your departments today and is hoping to interact with our staff. I expect your full cooperation in giving him both access and your time.”

Oh dear. Routine audit. That wasn’t what I would have called it; these visits were usually referred to as hell-days, but at least I knew my department was up to scratch, and I looked at Mark, hoping he had his shit under control, because this was never a fun thing to sit through.

“Mr Quinton, would you like to start off? I believe there have been some staffing issues this week.”

I hated Mr Klutz sometimes, the clumsiness of his choice of words and the pressure he put people under. Like when Amelia returned to work after her maternity, and he grilled her on the new Disability Act in front of everyone. Not that we shouldn’t know our legislation, but there was a time to put people under pressure, and it wasn’t when they’d just come back from maternity or sick leave.

Mark stood up, blinding the room with a smile, and I tried to relax my hunched-up shoulders, reminding myself that he was a professional.

“Our staffing issues are always a concern, and Mr Christensen and I have been working on a proposal to alleviate some of the shortages we have experienced of late.”

“You…and him? Are working together?” That was Tom Karki from IT. Well, he was so out of touch with humanity it was a wonder he even knew we existed.

“Mr Quinton and I make a good team,” I said, drawing a gasp from a colleague further down the table. I didn’t care. Mark grinned at me, and I gave him a cheeky wink. Yes, he still riled me up. Every second of every minute. Every hour of the day.

“We do indeed,” Mark continued without missing a beat. “And we’re currently working on a staff-share proposal, where we can offer generous overtime to existing staff willing to help out in other departments. We are, of course, working closely with union representatives to ensure we aren’t breaking any agreements, and budget-wise we could comfortably afford these changes by eliminating the use of our temp agency. As you all know, we have many multi-skilled staff members already, a few of whom have approached us with a view to crossing over to gain experience in new departments.”

“That’s why we have the management trainees,” Amelia said, cold-hearted as always.

“Well, why are we not retaining them this year? I haven’t seen anyone being kept on, and losing those hard-working people is a waste.”

“The budget doesn’t allow us to expand.”

“Perhaps we need to look at the budget then.”

At least people were getting involved, and Mark started throwing out numbers I didn’t even know he had. I agreed with him and figured I should say so.

“Mark is right. We need to get better at retaining our staff. That’s something the two of us have also looked at. We’re fully aware of our staffing levels and the need to keep within this year’s budget, but we’re losing very valuable workers who could be better utilised by our proposed flexible department contracts.”

We hadn’t discussed a name, but it had rolled off my tongue, accompanied by a small, gruff swallow from Mark.

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