The Organization (4 page)

“All right,” Erin replied, “but let’s do this again soon.  Or have dinner.  Or play cards.  Or…”

“Or sit and talk about Maggie?”

Erin shrugged, made herself smile, and replied, “We can talk about whatever you want.”

“See you soon, then,” Charlotte said, rising from her seat.

“Yes, let’s.” Erin kissed her on the cheek for the second time, and watched as she left.

Chapter Seven

Paul entered the café about twenty minutes after Joanna and Charlotte had arrived for their weekly tea. Charlotte had settled into this routine and, in fact, started looking forward to it. She had gotten so accustomed to being alone that she forgot that she enjoyed being connected with other people.

As Paul sat at the table, placing a bag at his feet, he asked, “All right, Charlie? Joanna?” as a way of saying hello.

“What have you got there?” Joanna asked, a smile playing on her face.

“Hey now, maybe it’s my groceries.  What do you think of that?”

“I think you’re a liar, Paul Goodale.  I know you don’t cook,” Joanna replied, laughing.

“How well you know me!” Paul replied, grinning.  He looked at Charlotte and asked, “Any guesses from you?”

Charlotte pretended to think hard for a moment and then replied, “A sex doll.”

“Excellent guess, but no.”  Paul pulled the bag up onto the table and pushed it toward Charlotte.  “Open.”

“Should I be afraid?” she asked.  Paul simply continued grinning as a response.  Charlotte opened the handles of the fabric bag to reveal a pair of football cleats, the crimson laces tied together into one knot.  She gasped and felt genuinely touched by the kindness.  “Paul…” she began.

“No, please don’t thank me.  I blush terribly,” he joked. Some color had risen already in his cheeks.

Charlotte cradled the leather shoes and asked, “How did you know what size I wear?”

“You forget that I’ve got greater security clearance than you.  I stopped by the human resources department and requested they retrieve your shoe size from your personnel file.”

For a moment, her smile faltered. She wanted to ask if that was all the information that Paul had retrieved from her personnel file, but she kept quiet, unsure of how to extract a truthful answer.

Joanna raised her eyebrows and interjected, “Well, that was… creative.” The corner of her mouth twitched and she added, “Very nice gift, Paul.  Now Charlie will be a proper footballer at practice tomorrow night.  And Harriet will be happy to see the laces reflect the team color.”

Charlotte took a deliberate sip of tea before asking, “Harriet is on the team?”

“No,” Joanna replied, “not exactly.  She’s more of our organizer, scheduler, morale-booster, cheerleader, record-keeper…”

“She’s everything
but
a player,” Paul interrupted. “I think she stays involved because of Thomas, even though he misses half the games.  I suppose you could think of her as our coach, of sorts.”

“Ah, I see,” Charlotte replied, losing herself in her thoughts as she sipped her tea.

#

The recreational league convened its games at four in the morning. This was late enough so that some players could come directly from work, and early enough that others attended prior to going into work for the day. More importantly, it was early enough that the sun had not yet risen, which meant that the teams could safely play on an outdoor Astroturf field so long as the air quality was acceptable for the day.

Charlotte arrived at the field before most of the rest of her team. She wore track pants and a long-sleeved shirt, and carried her cleats, mismatched tall socks, and water bottle in her bag. She didn’t have shin guards or her own ball to bring to practice. She wondered if she should have gone scavenging so she could earn enough credit to buy her own equipment..

Charlotte waved to Joanna when she came into view, strolling toward the field with a large bag over her shoulder. It seemed to be bursting at the seams. Joanna sat down on the sidelines next to Charlotte as she stretched her legs, and opened the bag. In addition to Joanna’s personal belongings, it was full of uniforms of a sort: t-shirts with numbers printed on the back. Joanna pulled one out, the number four jersey, and tossed it to Charlotte.

“Nice,” Charlotte said. “I mean, thank you.”

“You’re a member of the team now,” Joanna responded with a smile. Joanna’s smile faded as her attention was caught by Thomas and Harriet arriving at the far end of the field.  She gestured toward them and commented to Charlotte, “I wish they’d just find a way to get along today.”

Joanna’s wish would not be fulfilled. As the team gathered and hustled into a loose circle for practice, Thomas and Harriet stood opposite each other and barely made eye contact. Thomas wore a jersey, athletic shorts, and football cleats, contrasting with the more polished look of Harriet’s clothes: a ruby, silk blouse tucked into fitted trousers the color of sand, and simple but expensive-looking flats. Geoff, the team captain, announced that the first game was scheduled for a week later and that he wanted to get a feel for each player’s strengths and weaknesses during the day’s practice before deciding on who would play which position. The rest of the hour would pass by running drills and simply running laps around the field.

With adrenaline still coursing through her veins and emboldening her to feel more confident than normal, Charlotte took an opportunity at the end of practice to walk over to Harriet, who was stretched out alone on the turf, legs crossed at her ankles, leaning back on her hands and staring out over the field.

“Hello,” Charlotte said, holding her water bottle with both hands.

Harriet looked up at her and, without smiling or giving a greeting, said, “You did well this morning.  I’m impressed.”

“Oh, thanks.  I used to play.”

“Well, it looks like you’re still playing,” Harriet commented.

Charlotte held out her hand, “I’m Charlie, by the way.  Charlie – Charlotte – Parker.  Everyone calls me Charlie.  I don’t think we were actually introduced at Joanna’s party.”

Harriet shook her hand, more so gripping it and releasing than actually shaking. “Hello Charlie. I’m Harriet, as you know.” She cocked her head and answered her surprised expression by adding, “Joanna told me you had asked about me.”

“She did?” Charlotte asked.  She wondered what Joanna had said – what she suspected and what she was willing to admit on her behalf.

Harriet finally gave a small smile. “Only after I asked her about you.  I like to know who’s on the team.” She asked, “So you work with Joanna and Paul?”

“Yes, I do.  I’m new to their lab, though.  Well, I’m new-ish.”  She began to feel her confidence fading and a tickle growing in her throat.  She coughed and asked, “So, what is it that you, uh, that you do? For a job, I mean.”

“I work in media,” Harriet answered.

“I see,” Charlotte said, at a loss for words. She felt unsure of herself as she looked at Harriet, who even under the artificial lighting had a glow to her skin and an intensity to her eyes as she looked penetratingly at Charlotte. Charlotte’s lips felt dry and she took a drink of water from her bottle.

“Have you played as a forward before, Charlie? You’re stronger with your right foot, and I bet Geoff would like you to give it a go as right forward,” Harriet said, changing the subject back to the sport.

“I was a midfielder before, actually, but I could try it out,” she replied.

“Yes, I’ll recommend it to Geoff,” Harriet said.

“Great,” Charlotte responded. A moment later she tested the waters by stating, “You seem to know quite a bit about the game for someone who doesn’t play.”

“I used to play.  As in, I don’t play anymore.” Harriet smiled, and Charlotte interpreted it as teasing. Harriet added, “I’ve found that I’m a better manager, if you will, than a player, but I used to play – as a forward. That was ages ago.”

She met Harriet’s eyes and smiled a small, secretive smile. She felt as though they were playing at some unspoken game, and that she had won a minor victory by getting Harriet to reveal something about herself. Satisfied with herself and having run out of topics of conversation for the moment, Charlotte said, “Well, it was nice to finally meet you, Harriet.”

“And you as well, Charlie – Charlotte – Parker.”

Chapter Eight

“You want to come over to my place,” Charlotte repeated, squinting suspiciously at her new friend.  They sat in their new usual lunch place, on the bench with the view.

“Yes, I do,” Joanna replied.  “Geoff says we should go over the league rules with you before the first game.  And I haven’t seen your place before.”

“There’s not much to see,” Charlotte said. Even under Joanna’s gentle gaze, she felt self-conscious about her Spartan apartment.

“Oh, don’t worry, it’ll be fun.  Harriet said she would come, too.”

“She did?” Charlotte asked, feeling a rush of excitement overpower her embarrassment about her tiny, dingy apartment.

Joanna pursed her lips as if to chide her, and then relented into a smile. “I knew that’d get you.  So if we get off work, go home for some sleep… and let’s see, you and I have tomorrow off work, as does Geoff….” Joanna tapped her fingers on the arm of the bench, thinking.  “And Harriet – I don’t think she has to be at work until midnight or so.  Let’s say eight o’clock?  That all right?”

Charlotte shrugged happily.  “Sure.”

#

On her way back from taking out the trash to the incinerator, Charlotte passed her neighbor, the lady whose couch she had helped move. The neighbor tried to engage her in conversation, making some comment about the weather, but Charlotte successfully dodged her.

Charlotte closed her apartment door and studied her space. It was small and cluttered, but everything had its place. She had pulled her large, leather chest out from under the bed and pushed it to the center of the room to serve as a low table. She angled her recliner toward the chest, and set up her two folding chairs to complete the circle.

“McGillicuddy, what time is it?”

“20:07,” McGillicuddy responded. Her guests were late.

She threw a quilted blanket over the top of her bed, which was in the corner of the room, not far from the mish-mash of chairs, and situated the pillows against the walls to make it seem more inviting, almost something of a couch. No sooner had she stood back to evaluate her arrangement before there was knocking on her door.

Charlotte opened the door to Geoff, Joanna, Harriet – and Thomas. She quickly remembered to smile and invite them in. The four guests shuffled into her dimly lit apartment, and Joanna was the first to offer her compliments on what a nice space it was, how efficiently Charlotte had maximized the space.

“I used to have a place not far from here,” Thomas commented, “Back when I was in university.”

Charlotte responded, “Yes, I moved in here when I first arrived in London.” She felt a flash of panic at her thoughtless comment, generally disliking any conversation that opened the door to asking about her background. She quickly added, “But I really like the location. It’s so close to everything and quite within walking distance of the market and work and --”

“The market, yes!” Joanna interrupted, for which Charlotte silently thanked her. “Well, the black market anyway.” She grinned and elbowed Geoff in his ribs. “Show Charlie what’ve brought.”

Geoff walked the couple of paces over to the chest/table, and dropped his backpack onto it.

“Mind the glass,” said Harriet, speaking for the first time.

Geoff pulled two bottles of champagne out of the backpack, placing one on the chest, and passing the other one over to Charlotte for her inspection.

She studied the label, incredulous, then looked at Joanna for confirmation. “Is this the real deal?”

The group grinned, except for Harriet who merely gave a small smile.

“It is, my dear,” replied Joanna.

“You didn’t really think we were coming over to go over the rulebook, did you?” Geoff questioned as he settled into the recliner.

“Actually, I did,” Charlotte replied as she made her way over to her makeshift kitchen space. Joanna and Thomas sat on the two folding chairs and Harriet, after appearing to contemplate sitting on the floor, sat on the edge of the bed.

Charlotte returned to the center of the room, and handed an assortment of mugs off to Geoff.  “Sorry, I don’t have champagne flutes,” she said to him.

“Not a problem, mate,” Geoff replied, popping the cork on the first bottle and pouring the champagne into a mug for each person. Harriet stepped forward from the bed to take one of the mugs, anticipating a toast. Once everyone had a mug in hand, Geoff cleared his throat and said, “To our latest player, may she score often – on the field and off.”

Joanna shook her head, and repeated part of the toast, “To our latest player.”

“Hear, hear,” said Thomas, clinking his mug against Geoff’s, as Harriet toasted simply, “To Charlie.”

After taking an obligatory sip, Charlotte glanced at the bed and back at Harriet, who smiled politely to show she was not uncomfortable sharing the space. Charlotte gingerly on the bed at first, but as conversation got going and the champagne kept flowing, both Harriet and Charlotte had relaxed against the propped-up pillows.

Charlotte could feel that her normally pale skin was flushed from the alcohol. Her cheeks felt hot. She wasn’t used to drinking real alcohol and it was blurring her thoughts more than she would have anticipated. She wanted to ask McGillicuddy what time it was, but she thought it would be seem rude to her guests, as though she was waiting for them to leave. The question of time was resolved soon enough when Thomas asked, “Harriet, what time do you need to be at work?”

Harriet took a long moment to respond, her eyes on Charlotte, before saying, “I’m off this weekend, actually.”

“Oh,” Thomas said, looking disappointed for some odd reason. Charlotte watched his face.

Geoff cleared his throat and said, “Uh, Thomas and I were talking about going to the salons for a chaps’ evening out. You don’t mind, do you, Harriet my dear?”

Harriet looked from Geoff to Thomas, gave a cold smile and said, “Not at all.”