Page 64 of Handle with Care
Somebody puts on music with a solid beat. I can’t quite keep from dancing along as we set up one of the workstations at one end of the gallery.
“Sweet moves, Dylan.” Nancy gives an approving look as she comes through with the printed schedules for Will and me. She joins in for a moment, nodding along to the beat and giving a shimmy. Will’s nearby, and he tries to keep a smile off his face.
“I’d give you a whirl around, but you know, exhibits.” I grin at her, dancing in place.
“Yeah, fair.” She laughs. “Right, see you later for tea?”
“Sure thing.”
Will studiously pretends to not listen. Instead, he starts to read through the thick printout of our schedule. And knowing him, he’s going to read the entire thing from start to finish and not even skim read or skip any parts. His focus, as ever, is enviable.
I decide to follow suit and check out Lily’s plans. I flip through the pages. She’s given us both chances to work through all the various tasks, which is fair. And mostly, it looks like we’ll be working separately—and it will be very busy, even so. Everything kicks off tomorrow into overtime. And we’ll be working apart often and with different hours. Something inside me twists.
Which is going to make the extracurricular events rarer, too, if our schedules don’t align.
That night, we agree to take a break in favor of catching up on sleep, laundry, and some practical life things. Plus, I’d hate for Will to get another migraine because of overdoing things with me. It’s been a very welcome whirlwind, the last few days, but Lily’s meeting with us earlier was a wake-up call and a reminder of what’s on the line. And that there’s an end in sight—way sooner than I like. Plus, I’ve got a week of holiday at the end of the month, with the statutory bank holiday, once the exhibition opens. Which really means we only have the show changeover to do, and then everything’s done.
And everything ends.
After throwing my laundry in the wash at my flat, I stand there staring at the clothes going round and round in the front loader.
“Well, well. Hi, stranger.” Russ walks into the kitchen, freshly arrived home from his studio day. “I was starting to get worried you were kidnapped. Good to see you.”
“Good to see you too. I’ve been, er, busy.”
“Want to go to the pub for a pint? Watching the machine is only so fun.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Our local pub’s around the corner, and being gone for an hour works since the laundry won’t be done till then anyway. And seeing a friend would be welcome. Stephen’s somewhat scandalized and teases me about what’s going on in my briefupdates, but I haven’t been home to catch up with him on a call either.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re sitting in the pub’s patio garden with the cheerful after-work crowd with drinks in hand at a picnic table. Overhead, leafy trees shelter us, and the warmth of the day lingers. Overflowing flower baskets in pink and red hang around the pub garden. Russ’s curls are in their usual disheveled state, and he wears a plaid button-down. I’m in tie-dye shorts and a royal blue T-shirt, enjoying the sun slanting through the trees to where I’m sitting. Music plays on. The patio is full, and people stand lingering around the doorway, laughing and carrying on.
“How’s my long-lost flatmate?” Russ asks, settling in with his lager.
“Found?” I raise my lager to him, and we clink glasses. “What a time. So, er, date three got extended.” I grin sheepishly, euphoric too at the thought of Will.
“Yeah, I gathered that.” Russ laughs, shaking his head at me. “Turns out he has some redeemable qualities other than splashing you with his car, hmm? How’s that going over at work?”
“Oh, they don’t know, believe me. We keep things under wraps there.” Then I think about our irreverent session in the prep room last Friday night. No regrets. “Mostly. At least away from where anyone can see us.”
His eyebrows lift. “Right. So, it’s a secret. Anyone know what’s going on?”
“Er, only you and Stephen. I don’t know if he’s told anyone, to be honest. He’s very private, I think.”
“He must have friends.”
“He must, but I haven’t met them. I mean, we haven’t had time yet, with everything going on?—”
“You mean with all the hooking up.”
“Yeah. That.” I laugh, buoyed. “I’m exhausted but happy. Except.”
“Except?” Russ gives me a curious look.
It’s hard to keep the slight frown that comes. “Except I’m most likely going home at the end of the month because the odds are against me for getting the permanent job with the museum. I mean, aside from Will being a favorite of the director, he’s obviously British, and I’m not. Visas are a pain. And that means there’s a hard stop to all of this when I leave.”
“Well… you don’t know that yet,” Russ tries. “Though you’re probably right about the job, unfortunately. It makes sense, what you’re saying. Though I’d love it if you stayed on a little longer. You’re a great flatmate.”
