Chapter Fifty-Five Soundtrack: we can't be friends (wait for your love) by Ariana Grande

Last night, Mei was surprisingly sympathetic about my omnishambles. While stroking my hair, she said, 'It was the dumbest decision you could have made, but I'm just so happy to see you decide something.'

Which, on second thought, is not actually that sympathetic.

Okay, meeting Nas's parents was too much. I don't think I'm wrong there. But today at work, I'll ask him to be my boyfriend. Or the guy I'm seeing. 'Boyfriend' is a lot. But something like that. Something serious.

I rehearse in the lift up. The lighting is bad, and I slept for exactly 20 minutes, but I still think I look convincing and charming and forgivable.

I'm mumbling the words to my apology as the doors open.

They're halfway out of my mouth when I realise that Nas isn't there. This is a little unusual, since punctuality is his favourite weapon in our war, but I won't let it worry me.

At my desk, I refresh my emails four times. Nothing. But still. Nothing to worry about.

Sally, our team assistant, pokes her head in. 'Hey, Ellie, did you see that email from Daniel?'

Daniel is Barry's boss. Daniel is very, very scary. He has a lisp that we all pretend to ignore and a stern demeanour that implies he'd fire us all in an instant. I suspect he's a genius.

'No,' I reply. Hopefully, Sally can't hear my fear.

'I'll resend it. It may have gone to your spam.'

She vanishes. It's a little weird that she's helping Daniel with emails, since she's our assistant. But then again, since Barry set up her desk in a repurposed cupboard, who knows what she actually does anymore?

The email arrives a minute later. Subject line: Team Structure.

I've been laid off before. I know how these conversations start.

With trembling hands, I open the email.

It's so much worse than a redundancy.

Dear Eleanor,

As Sally has just been promoted to support me in the Executive branch, she's been updating me on your team's structure. I understand that your work on Pendleton was vital in securing the recent BAFTA win - congratulations, by the way. I'd like to meet to discuss your role in the team and a potential restructuring vis-a-vis promoting you to management. Separate conversations are occurring with Barry regarding his future here, so please don't share this more widely until those are resolved. Would Wednesday suit you to discuss a formal offer? Please bring an updated CV and be prepared to outline your vision for the team.

As you may know, Nasir has been in conversations with our Animation team regarding a co-production on a title you're developing. He has recently indicated that he'd like to be reallocated to that team permanently. We're still finalising details, but a new team structure would not include him. I understand that sharing your role has posed challenges - Sally has been very descriptive about this - so hopefully this will come as a relief.

Any questions, don't hesitate to ask. Otherwise, I look forward to meeting on Wednesday.

Best,

Daniel

Nas left. Also, I'm getting a promotion. But more importantly, Nas left.

The office is so quiet now. I can hear his stupid clock ticking. I'm certain that he only bought it to annoy me - it skips ticking one in every three seconds.

This should be the happiest week of my life. I've achieved my career-long dream and I'm being rewarded for it. It even sounds like Barry is being sacked. But I can't stop looking at the empty desk opposite me. I shouldn't be celebrating alone, because I couldn't have done this alone.

I open my messages with Nas. The last time we spoke, he'd bought me a television to celebrate a huge milestone, after we'd had sex and he'd shared his fears over being used for sex, and then... Ah yes. Then I crushed him like a bug.

I'm not really sure how to express that in a text.

I go with: hey, it's weird here without you. I've been thinking about things a lot and I want to talk. can you call me?

One tick.

Two ticks.

Blue ticks.

No response. He doesn't even type.

What an asshole. He has one failed conversation with me about dating and he just runs away! Who does that? How can he leave me when I need him?

That doesn't even sound sincere in my mind. Of course I'm not angry. If anything, I'm disappointed that I didn't predict this. He's always wanted to work in animation. The only thing stopping him, I think, has been helping me. I guess that's not an obstacle anymore. I guess I should be happy for him.

Maybe he'll text me back later. It's not like he'll ignore me forever. We were building something. We were about to become something. He must realise that, even if I didn't express it like I wanted to.

I look at his empty chair again.

Ding.

Nas?

Nope. Paul. He wants to know if we'll commission his show. This fucking guy.

Usually, I'd snap without thinking. But this time, I really, really think about it. And then I reply.

Hi Paul,

Apologies for the confusion! Regarding why we haven't moved ahead with your pitch: it's because we only commission shows that are good. Hope this helps!

Regards,

Ellie

Paul doesn't respond.

If Mei has taught me anything, it's that you never, ever put a man ahead of your career. She'd be furious if I passed on the promotion to mourn Nas. And I don't think I want that, anyway. I would always have taken this opportunity: when I hated him and would have revelled in managing him; when we were friends and I would have asked for his advice. This has always been the goal. So I just have to focus for another few days. I can figure the rest out later.

My CV is buried in an old folder on my desktop. I haven't opened it since I started here. I scan it, sigh, and then close it again. This is boring. Instead, I click through the other documents in the folder. Tax forms. An old company headshot. A to-do list from the start of the year.

Ooh. Not boring.

When I open it, I laugh so hard that I have to take a walk.

It reads:

This year I'll:

Win a BAFTA

Calm Mum down

Make Nas quit

Mission accomplished, I guess. I just wish it felt better.

*

three more chapters to go! thank you so much for reading this far.