The Cost of Eavesdropping
Posted: Friday, February 03, 2012
by George Stay
Just one word.
That was all it took. One solitary word.
Spoken in close proximity to your name and you can make some assumptions, you can begin to see things happening. You can start to imagine a better life.
Now admittedly, the word came crashing over the top of his cubicle with a rising tide of other office noise. And there was a small gap between the word and his name, the kind of gap that might have been a pause, or might have included words unheard in the rise and fall of that tide of sound. But her voice, her voice always reached out to him over the hubub, much like the eye can follow a colorful beach ball floating amid the waves.
But all he'd been able to say to her had been small talk -- about their shared work, co-workers, the weather, last night's popular television show, the latest news (gossip) and, once, their family backgrounds (she came from a family of five, four of them girls). He breathed in everything she said and memorized not just what she'd said but how she'd said it and what her face looked like when she spoke. Still, while he often fell into those deep brown eyes of hers, he had been unable to speak more openly of himself to her because there always seemed to be other people around, because he didn't trust his co-workers not to harrass him about her and because, well, he wasn't even sure he was on her feminine radar.
On that day, though, he picked up on enough of her conversation with another female co-worker to know, by both tone and context, that they were sharing something quite intimate and secretive. So when he heard her speak that singular, most incredible word in such close context to his name, his heart raced and his head spun and he wanted to jump up and shout. Or at least interrupt her to make certain he'd heard her correctly.
Instead, he kept his head down and went into action. The next day, an arrangment of flowers came for her, anonymously, of course. He figured he'd guage her reaction to know whether he'd heard her correctly. She wore a puzzled smile on her face when the flowers arrived, a look he picked up because everyone -- especially the women in the office -- stood up to see where the flowers were going. Flowers did not arrive in their office every day and people had to know just who was so special that they were the target of someone's affections.
He repeated it a few days later, with a larger arrangement. He was surprised because her look was even more puzzled and less happy. Almost as if she was afraid she was being stalked.
Finally, three more days later he screwed up his courage and delivered a single red rose to her cubicle in person. Of course, he made sure he showed up before anyone else in the office, including her. But he left her a note, using that same word she'd used, and in extremely close proximity to her name too.
Her reaction was swift. And it was not at all what he'd expected. She stormed over to his cubicle, anger spilling out of her eyes.
What's this all about? she demanded. What gives you the right to leave me this? Are you the person who's been sending me flowers? Why would you do this? Why? she kept asking that same question, repeating it over and over in increasingly more angry tones.
Well, he said, his face red, his mind confused and flustered and his composure completely shot, I overheard you the other day say that you loved me. I wanted you to know that I felt the same but it has taken me until today to find the courage to speak to you.
What? she said, stunned. What are you talking about? When did I say that?
Five days ago, he said, when you and Sheila were talking. I overheard your conversation, or at least part of it.
Oh my God, she said, rolling her eyes at his utter stupidity. I didn't say that I loved you, Jimmy, I said I love going to my new gym. Because there is the utterly cute and sexy trainer there and we have been, well, getting to know each other ever since I signed up for his help.
And with that, she turned on her heel, muttered something about how he'd screwed up things with the trainer, and left him, sitting in a deep hole out of which there was no graceful exit.
This Article has been viewed 600 times. (Not updated in real-time.)
Top-level comments on this article: (3 total)My heart bleeds for him :( Great story-telling, George!Hey, thanks Jennifer. I had been contemplating this "assignment" for several days when, on my way to work, the story just came to me. Especially the opening. From that point on, it just seemed to flow. I liked the idea of the guy being Jim, but she was talking about her gym. An easy mistake to make, I think. Anyway, thanks for reading and responding.
i think it is the best story!Thanks, Abolghasem. I appreciate that comment. I am always glad when someone gets and likes one of my stories. Thank you for taking the time to read it.
Hi George.
Great job! Great story! You described a shy person so well (I know because I am one). And you illustrated your title brilliantly.
Hugs,
DianneComing from you, Dianne, this is, indeed, high praise. Thanks and thank you for taking the time to read my completed "assignment." I, too, am a shy person so I know this guy pretty well.
We want your comments! If you can read this, you don't have javascript enabled, so you can't use this comment system. Please enable javascript.