Rhinoceros 13
There was a bright light in this otherwise dark and inescapable tunnel. A text popped into his phone, not from Annie, or a colleague, or his union representative, or even the police, but from Jen. Hi u free one evening soon? Suggest drinks say where when Jen. He replied, in a more traditional grammatical form, and his reply led them both, at 7.30pm on a Tuesday evening, to The White Lion. Alan got the drinks and they sat in the same cubby hole, in the same places, as the last time Alan and Annie had met there.
“Have you lost your car again?” Jen asked. From another person this would have been cruel.
“No, thank you. You are looking, um, nice.”
“If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t look too great.”
“I don’t mind. And no, I’m not too great. I'd tell you but I see you've not brought your violin. Also, you're not reporting back to Annie, are you?”
Jen seemed momentarily stung, but brushed it away like a passing wasp. “She’ll find out anyway. But I won’t breathe a word.”
“Thanks. Well…” And Alan wondered where to start. “Actually, aside from getting beaten up – which I sort of deserved – and losing my job – which I like to think I don’t deserve – there’s not much to tell.”
“Let's start with the violence.”
“Hmmm. But it doesn’t show me in a good light, and I’m pretty much at rock bottom now, so I’d appreciate the chance not to continue digging my own grave.”
“Don't mind me. I like a good story. And I might have one of my own.”
“Yes, sorry, don't mean to hog the evening. I guess you think I'm just wrapped up in my self. I’d better get a couple more drinks in so we can have a straight run at it.”
And so Alan did tell the story so far. He didn’t have to play down his stupidity too much, as he would for Annie, or lay too much emphasis on the heroics, though a little exageration surely does no harm. And he made her laugh and produces expressions of concern over her freckles, and in the rest of the telling there was interest peppered with a little astonishment. And in return Jen told some of her life so far, the office politics, and travel, even the failed relationships. Alan felt further pangs guilt for not listening actively enough as his own life still bobbed around him, like flotsam on a shore. Maybe she noticed, because Jen went quiet for a while, then, with some kind of internal struggle, decided to refocus. “OK, you have your union. You can fight legit, or you can fight dirty – oh, except you still haven’t got the films back, right?”
“Right. And I wish they didn’t exist.”
“OK, you say that, but they do, and that makes the choice easy. The films are probably wiped, so you can stop fretting about them. You care about the job, yes?”
“I care about some of the pupils, I suppose.”
“Same thing. You don’t have to meet the Mitchelsons again – and it’s not worth getting the police in: too much trouble, right?”
“Right.” This was easy. Alan was already feeling lighter, almost aerated. Another five minutes and he would be able to float above his chair.
“So you’re narrowed down to your fight with your Head. If you decide to, you need to read up on procedures, get professional help, even if you have to pay for it, and co-opt sympathetic colleagues. Yes?”
“I guess.”
“You don’t sound too sure.”
“I’m just wondering if I have the fight in me.”
“Everyone has if they want something bad enough. Alan, if you don't, who else will?”
“But still…”
“Look, Alan, I've been at rock bottom myself. I was being harrassed by the boss a few years ago. He would do odd things, like take my mobile phone off my desk and place it in his office so I had to go in and get it. And he leant right over me when asking questions, with his horrible breath and beady eyes. And everyone in the office saw it, but other than a few sympathetic comments, they did nothing. They way everyone does in this country. A few tuts, shrugs, mustn't grumble, that sort of thing. So that's when I realised that you have to get proactive. So I recorded him and kept a diary. It wasn'r easy, needed a bit of nerve and patience, but, Jesus Alan, anyone can do it.”
"And went to your union?"
"Nope. Wasn't convinced they would help either - call me cynical - I just presented him with the evidence one day, and politely asked him to back off. Obviously, it was a bit uncomfortable, continuing to work there with him, but I was sick of the spineless lot in the rest of the office. So what I'm saying is, I can help you. But you need to grow a backbone, too."
“Jen, you already are helping.” And this was true. She’d done the spadework in a few words, in a few short minutes, that it would normally take Alan several weeks or even months to fathom out. By which time it was usually too late. Jen was in a different category of human, it seemed to Alan. In fact he felt guilty in his attraction to her, seeing as she was being so useful.
They moved on to other topics, but the sense of the initial conversation remained with Alan throughout the evening, and carried him home. They agreed, quite naturally, to part at the pub, but to meet up again at an unspecified time and location. It was as simple as that.
For the first time since his divorce, Alan felt a sense of gloom and rising despair at the thought of returning to his flat alone.
