The Invitation

On my way to work on Tuesday I had another panic attack.

I don't think anything in particular sparked it off. I was casually driving to work listening to Magic fm. Other than the slight irritation of the penetrating sound of Celiene Dion's voice I was in good spirits. Oh yeah, I was still angry about the dvd idea. And of course there were the legal forms and statements surrounding the incident with Bradley....

Maybe there was a reason why a wave of pain flooded my head at the traffic lights. I tried to calm down as soon as it happened. I cradled my head in my hands and forced myself to think happy thoughts.

Halfway through imagining happy free chickens I had an awful thought. What if the doctor was completely wrong? What if I'm suffering from a rare incurable disease?

It didn't help. The cars began beeping behind me.

I managed to park on a nearby street. I turned the radio up and changed the station until I found a song that would put me in a good mood. Strangely, Snoop Dog and Akon seemed to do the trick. I sang along with Akon's chorus and made a mental note to buy the single. Medical reasons of course.

Gay Boss was not impressed when I arrived to work at 10:45 am. CEO had made a surprise visit! Gay Boss lied for me and told him that I had a dentist appointment. CEO didn't believe him. I guess the HMV bag full of CDs was a dead giveaway.

CEO was seated at the head of the conference table when I arrived, pissed off because he was kept waiting for so long. Well he should have told us he was coming shouldn't he! He'd bought a plan for the dvd with him and he wanted to go through it with the two of us. I think he's going senile. He's completely forgotten what it takes to run a business. I was in shock when he relayed his fabulous plans. What a nutter!

Gay Boss completely ignored me through the meeting. I don't blame him. What the hell was I thinking? I took the morning off to buy an Akon album!

After the meeting concluded I got up to leave and another wave of pain filled my head. Gay Boss was immediately at my side. Ten minutes later we were in my office waiting for my headache to pass.

"Elise take a few days off. Go home."

I went home. I went home and poured myself a drink. I changed into a silky nightgown and wrapped my hair up in the ridiculous matching turban that Grandmama gave me for my birthday. I checked myself out in the mirror. All I needed was a cigarette and I was the Drama Queen herself. I think I'm slowly losing my mind.

I got bored after an hour of prancing up and down the house trying out various European accents to go with my new look and I decided to do something constructive. I made a cup of tea and checked the mail.

Council Tax

Gas Bill

Bank Statement

Invitation!?


I ripped open the envelope. People never send invitations anymore unless it’s something important. Maybe it’s a wedding!

Cher Elise et (Solicitor)

You are invited to my Housewarming Party on Saturday 23rd February

Dress: Smart-Casual

Regards,

Aimee

Aimee's moved to London. Not just anywhere. Her address says "Battersea Mansions"! She didn't say anything about it before. The Bitch! She's trying to move in on Solicitor I just know it! I paced up and down the house silently cursing Solicitor's Runway Model Ex-wife.

Actually when I met Aimee she seemed genuinely friendly. She was going through a rough patch and she seemed lost and terribly unsure of herself. She and Solicitor still keep in contact. Maybe going to the party would be a good idea.

When Solicitor got home that night he found the bedroom in a complete mess of clothes. I had spent the day trying on every possible outfit for the party.

Replaced with a DVD!

CEO wants to replace me with a DVD!

Gay Boss came up to my office early this morning with a few printed emails from CEO.

Email 1:

This situation breaks my heart.

What happened??/??///??????

This is what he sent when he heard about my meeting with Sanyo. "Breaks my heart"? What the hell is he talking about? It was one mistake. It's not as if I make a habit of screwing up!

Email 2:

I have personally realised a more effective way of presenting to prospective clients. We currently have a fantastic creative department that is not being used to its full advantage. Bellow you will find a schedule for the creation of an audio/ visual presentation on DVD!

He planned out the footage! Every cross fade, every shot, every cut. He wants an audio commentary from an "authoritative male voice" to run over the edit.

This way every presentation will be picture perfect. Anyone can present at any time. It’s just a case of pressing the right button!

I lost it. I actually lost it. I walked around in a rage. Effing and blinding. "Anyone can present". I've done a bloody good job for the last few years! I made one stupid mistake and he wants to replace me with a fucking DVD.

How unprofessional! Imagine walking into a room of directors and flicking on a DVD. Standing back and filling nails while they look at a screen for half an hour. Flicking the screen off and handing them a contract.

"That's it folks. Wanna sign up with us?"

CEO has gone mad!

That’s not the worst of the email. After I ranted for a while I read the rest.

I regret letting a perfectly good employee go. I feel there is a definite difference in the qualities of a male figure in this line of work.

He's talking about Old Prick. Old Prick got sacked because he wasn't performing well. He screwed up countless deals. How can CEO compare my skills with that of an idiot?! What a sexist tosser!

Gay Boss laughed at the email. He said that he had to reply to it but he's completely stuck on what to say.

Here are a few ideas that I came up with:

1) Elise does a bloody good job. She made one mistake!

2) Old Prick was a shit employee. His skills are nowhere near the minimum required.

3) A DVD is completely unprofessional.

4) The creative team are not filmmakers.

5) To hire a camera man and an actor to do a voice over is not free.

6) It will take a minimum of 16 weeks to complete.

7) By the time the footage is complete it will be Out Of Date.

8) CEO, you are a complete asshole. You need to step back into the real world. It's a wonder how you made this company a success. If you started out in today's world you'd be sitting on the side of a street collecting change to feed your fucking crack habit!

I think that’s enough information to aid Gay Boss with his response...

Last night

We didn't go out. We were getting ready to but Solicitor unzipped my dress as we headed to the door and...well...we missed our reservation.

He loved the football tickets. I had tucked them in my thong and he pulled them free with his teeth.

I loved the diamond neckless. They match the earings he bought me from Paris.

I don't know what else to say. I can't really describe my evening without it sounding like an erotic porno.

Well you don't want details do you?

Scrapbook

The most memorable Valentine's Day for me was the day Raj bought me a red rose.

Being single at 16 and going to school on Valentines Day was either fabulous or traumatic. I personally loved it.

We had a post box in a corridor in the main building at school. People dropped cards in during the week leading to Valentine's Day, leaving names and registration class number on the envelope. A few volunteers would sort through them the day before and on the morning of Valentine's Day we'd have cards waiting for us at registration.

It was the busiest registration of the year. The buzz of gossip lasted throughout the day. Who sent whom a card? Who received the most? And cruelly, who didn't receive any at all.

Year 11 Valentine's Day was the best I'd ever had in school. It was the final year of compulsory education. We knew that we'd loose touch with many people so we all made an extra effort with friendship cards.

As we excited sorted through our card that morning Raj burst through the door with a bucket of single red roses. He handed them out to all the single girls in the class. Each rose had a personal card with a message attached to it.

Raj was a good-looking guy. He was nicely toned. Green eyes. Cute dimpled smile. It was difficult not to feel special, even though he'd given a rose to every other girl.

My personal message said: "To Sexy Elise, everyday is an adventure with you Kitten... Please don't claw my heart out. Be my Valentine."

(When I was in year 8 I broke up with a guy called Philip the day before his birthday. In my defence I didn't know it was his birthday and we'd only dated for two weeks! He told everyone that I clawed his heart out. My nickname was Kitten for a while.)

For that one day Raj made all the girls feel special. He made the geeky girl feel popular, the fat girl feel attractive and the quiet girl feel confident. I noticed and spoke to girls that I hadn't ever spoken to before. We compared cards and exchanged hugs.

Later that day I stole a kiss with Raj behind the sports shed. No tongues. A nice warm kiss on the lips. I wonder how many kisses he received that day...

It’s nice to think back to days like that. To flick through scrapbooks, read old cards, look at old photos. This gave me an idea for Solicitor's card.

I've made Solicitor homemade scrapbook. I bought a plain notebook and filled it with photographs of the two of us. I wrote down little messages to go with them. I even included an old picture of the two of us at a bar when we were at University.

I bought a new bedroom outfit for tonight. A silky black pair of suspenders and stockings with a deep red bra and thong set. I'm going to hide the football tickets in my stocking.... Maybe a little game before he can get his hands on them!

Glitter Glue and Research

Yesterday afternoon Gay Boss brought a box of arts and craft materials to my office.

We're currently working on an new potential client and I needed to research the product range. This basically means that I spent the afternoon making smiley-faced, lopsided people out of playdo, I decorated my appointment diary with pink heart stamps and glitter glue and I attempted to create a beautiful picture of a boat out of cut out felt pieces.

A couple of hours into the "research" I had a fantastic idea. I'd make Solicitor a Valentine's card from scratch! Homemade cards are so personal. I could make a cool contemporary, unique card. He'd love it.

I began humming to myself while I lined up the tools. I suddenly felt like one of those cool artists. The ones that always make personal cards for relatives. Maybe I could get into the card making business on the side. People would love them. I'd be promoted on Richard & Judy. Celebrities would have specially made cards made and would pay me thousands of pounds for the service.

Scissors - check
Black Card - check
Red Felt - check
Pink Glitter glue - check.

An hour later and I was frustrated and hot.

The black card was folded at a slight angle. I tried to straighten it out but there's a huge nasty crease running alongside the edge of the card. The red felt hearts were cut out unsymetrically with jagged edges. There was more pink glitter glue in my hair then there was on the card.

I don't understand why anyone would give a child such complicated craft materials. I felt heartbroken when I stepped back to admire my hard work. It looked awful. I can't give Solicitor this! He'd think I'm some kind of a retard.

I threw away the card and attempted a different approach.

Scissors - check
Pink Card - check
Red Card - check
Black Felt-tip Pen - check

I decided to fold the pink card in half and cut out a heart with the red card.

So far so good.

I stuck the heart on the front and wrote Solicitor's name and my name in the centre. I ran out of room. The letters at the end of my name were tiny.

I threw the card away.

I've decided to buy a card. It shows that I'm not cheap. Solicitor will definitely apprecite a proffessionally created card more than a homemade one.

I think I'm done with the research. I know the product range well. I'd never personally buy any of it though. Why would anyone?

I'm taking it easy today. I'll toddle off to Admin around 3. Bimbo's decided to try out her new make up stills on me. She wants to impress Pierce with a new look. Until then I'll just sit around, eat some smarties, drink some tea...

The Shampoo Attack

I presented to Sanyo yesterday morning.

I didn't have much time to prepare for it as I spent most of last week feeling sorry for myself. It's not the first time I haven't prepared for a presentation. I usually slip into a professional mode and I somehow manage to pull it off.

Not this time.

My audience were three women. For some reason Women are much more difficult to present to. They look for mistakes. They compete with each other to ask the most complicated questions. If anything is going to go wrong in a presentation it normal happens at the end during the discussion.

I messed up right at the beginning.

"As Sony have a large range of products, catering for different consumer groups..."

Gay Boss went red in the face. What did I do wrong?

Shit! I'm presenting to Sanyo not Sony!

I felt a wave of hysteria erupt as I realised my mistake. I had to fight to keep myself from laughing out loud. The three witches stared at me in silence. One of them was writing something down on her notepad.

That's it. I've fucked it up.

I somehow got through the rest of the presentation without any further hiccups. I doubt we'll hear from them anytime soon.

Gay Boss was livid. He had a "chat" with me when they left.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? I can't believe you could be so fucking stupid. You completely fucked up!"

He tends to swear a lot when he's angry.

Logically I knew how serious this was but I still couldn't repress my laughter. I buried my face in my hands and silently shook while Gay Boss stalked up and down my office ranting and raving.

I decided to stay put in my office for the rest of the day to "reflect on my current issues".

At 5:30 on the dot I picked up my bag and locked up my office. For some odd reason I was happy. I'd completely messed up a potentially great deal but I was happy.

I got to the bottom of the stairs when I sudden rush of pain enveloped my head. I gripped the banister to keep my balance. I stayed still. The pain disappeared as quickly as it came. I took a deep breath.

Another pain rush. It felt like my brain cells were exploding.

I sank down onto the first step and cradled my head. I couldn't breath. What was happening to me?

"Oh my God! Elise!"

Bimbo came running down the stairs and sat down beside me.

Another rush of pain.

I gripped her hand.

"I think I'm dying."

I honestly did. You read about these things all the time. A perfectly healthy person dying on the spot with an intense headache.

Bimbo panicked. She burst into tears. Her panic had a huge effect on me. The pain suddenly got blindingly worse. I couldn't speak.

Bimbo called Stoner from her phone while she held me. He was there within a minute. The two of them walked me to Bimbo's car. Stoner sat in the back with me. My head seemed to get worse. Shooting pains running through my brain. I had to remind myself to breath.

"She's having a brain haemorrhage!" Bimbo sobbed from the drivers seat. "I love you Elise. I haven't told you this before but I really do."

"She's not having a brain haemorrhage!" Stoner shouted back. "She's experiencing an allergy attack. Did you use a new shampoo?"

....

"You've experienced an anxiety attack."

The doctor at the hospital was very definite about it. The waves of pain had slowly diluted by the time he saw me. I was left with a dull headache.

"But I'm happy!" I cried out. Honestly, the doctor didn't know what he was talking about. Doctors make mistakes all the time. Remember that surgeon that left his forceps in a patient and sewed him up? The headache was not an anxiety attack. I'm not anxious about anything.

He smiled kindly and squeezed my shoulder.

"These things happen. The next time you experience it remember to take a deep breath and relax as much as you can. It will pass. Would you like me to prescribe some medication?"

This was embarrassing. I shook my head.

I told Bimbo and Stoner that it was an allergy attack. Bimbo freaked out and asked what shampoo I had used.

"Um... it was Morrison's own brand."

Sorry Morrison's, it just came out! I'm sure your product range is very safe.

The safest I'd ever been

I did go to the police.

Solicitor picked me up from work on Friday and he drove to the police station. He parked outside and asked me if I wanted to go in. I contemplated for half an hour before we went inside.

What should have been a chat about the incident turned into a gruelling interrogation. I filled out a statement form and answered more questions. I thought I'd just have to relay the incident but I was asked to recall whether he grabbed my left arm or my right arm first. I was asked what side of the car I was pushed against.

I felt like screaming. "I already told you this you stupid pikey bitch!"

Long hours later we got up to leave. The police officer shook our hands.

"We'll be in touch."

That's it? I don't know what I expected her to say but I thought she'd elaborate a little more.

As we drove home I felt as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I did the right thing.

That night I couldn't sleep. I suddenly had an over whelming feeling of regret. I'd possibly ruined Bradley's life. I tossed and turned for hours unable to repress the dull pain in the pit of my stomach.

I was exhausted. It had been days since I had slept. Whenever I managed to nod off I had unbearable nightmares.

I padded to the bathroom in search of some sleeping pills. I was raiding the box of pills when I heard Solicitor. He stood in the doorway wiping the tiredness from his eyes. He slowly regarded the box and looked at me in question.

"Do we have any Nytol?"

He shook his head. He walked in and replaced the box.

"Get dressed. Put something warm on."

Ten minutes later we stepped out of the house into the cold night. Solicitor loaded the car with a thick blanket, extra coats and jumpers and two flasks of hot chocolate.

We drove for hours. He took the M4 out of London towards the west. Past Heathrow. Past Reading. Past Wokingham.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

We turned off at an exit past Swindon. The country lanes were dark and empty. There were no streetlights at all. Solicitor turned off down a dirt road barely wide enough to fit a car. There were thick bushes on either side scraping the windows as we drove through.

We suddenly stopped. Solicitor turned off the engine and the lights from the car.
"Close your eyes."

He helped me out of the car, holding me steady on the jagged road.

"Look up" He whispered.

I opened my eyes and gasped. The sky was filled with million and millions of stars. They were so bright they were like Christmas lights. I stood frozen in shock.

We sat on the blanket on the bonnet of the car smoking, drinking hot chocolate and whispering. It was as if we had discovered an amazing secret. As if we didn't want to ruin the silent beauty with any noise.

I fell asleep in the car on the way home.

I remember falling asleep in the car when I was a young child. I remember being carried into the house by my father. He used to hold me close and kiss my hair. My face buried in his neck. I trusted him completely during those moments. He kept me the safest I had ever been.

Solicitor carried me up the stairs when we got home. He laid me down on the bed and removed my clothes. He tucked me under the thick duvet and slid his warm body beside me. He wrapped me in his powerful arms. I felt his butterfly kisses on my neck before I fell into a blissful deep sleep.