Luncheon
Devi Sherman
Walter shuts down his yellowed desktop computer,
"You're good to take lunch," Mike had told him.
He places his hand-made Gone Lunchin! placard atop his cubicle and chuckles to himself lightly. He grabs his prepacked tuna sandwich from his standard-issue lunchbox before finally letting his shoulders drop and relaxing his expression. He sinks into his chair and chews quietly. Chews and sits. He struggles to think of something “exciting” about the rest of his day, distracted by his tasks: populating Excel sheets, making calls, taking calls, "Yes, boss," etc. The ritualistic silence of his lunch break is broken by a few voices down the corridor.
"It was Daniel, ya' said?" he makes out from one of them.
As they draw near, Walter observes their shadows: Mike's average height and larger build, coupled with a smaller man’s form. He musters up an extra smile for the passers-by. Before he can complete the process, their paths cross; (presumably) Daniel points at Mike’s unwelcome arm around his shoulder and then at his head, making a swirling motion with his finger. Walter looks forward, rather than up, having been voted "Tallest Employee" every quarter since being hired. He sees Mike distracted and Daniel now making eye contact. He mouths something like, "Oh my god," or "so annoying." Walter doesn't notice, but a smile creeps across his face: not his regular forced lips, bent slightly upwards, but an organic one, bearing a few pearly whites as well. The moment passes, but Walter decides to wade in it for a little longer- the duration of his Lunchin' break.
Walter huddles towards the door, a little rushed; he just clocked out, and there’s no reason to be at work while not doing work.
“Hey!” he hears from behind. He turns to see Daniel,
“I saw you at your cubicle earlier, right?” he asks.
Walter stutters a little and laughs an awkward laugh, “Yes, that was me.”
For the first time since starting his job, Walter is suddenly participating in a conversation in the workplace that doesn’t make him wanna scratch his eyes out even a little.
“What’s that ‘Mike’ guy’s deal?” Daniel scoffs, “he’s like if my dad were my boss, and I do not
like my dad.”
Walter had to pause. He hadn’t thought about Mike much- he was just “the boss.”
“The guy never shuts his trap,” his new acquaintance continued, flapping his hand open and
closed.
“Yeah,” Walter laughed, “he really never does,” copying the hand motion.
The two share a friendly smile as Daniel finishes packing up his stuff for the day. Walter slips his lunchbox away into his matching backpack and glances up to see Daniel still standing and waiting.
“Thanks for waiting.”
He finishes up and dons his bag, ready to go as a kindergartener on their first day. Walter’s tall figure stretches as he turns off the buzzing overhead lights and motions Daniel out the door. Following Mike’s instructions, he types the PIN into the door pad, and the two walk off after the LED flashes green and the speaker beeps. Walking towards the parking lot while the dull midwestern night sky glows its regular haze, they find themselves walking in the same direction.
“I think we might’ve parked next to each other,” Daniel chuckled.
They reach their respective sun-faded sedans, finally ready to say goodbye: a pleasant first talk. Walter opens his driver's door and tosses his belongings onto the fabric of the passenger seat. Daniel rests his hands on the roof of his car and his chin on his hands, watching.
“I haven’t got your name yet,” he says.
Turning around, “Walter,” he answers- just the one word.
“Nice to meet you, Walter,” he says in a sing-songy, sarcastic way, “My name is-”
Putting on his best Mike voice, Walter interrupts, “Daniel, ya’ said?”
“Yes,” he hangs his head, “Daniel. It’s nice to meet you, Walt. Do you drink?”
Furrowing his brows and glancing away for a moment, he follows it up quickly, “I’m not pitching you an AA meeting if that’s what you’re thinking. Just wanted to see if you’d wanna grab a couple beers sometime.”
Walter nods, happily obliged. They exchange goodbye’s and see you next time’s and drive off.
Lying in his twin-sized bed, tucked into striped blue and white sheets beneath a matching navy comforter, Walter is unable to sleep. It had been a while since he’d made a friend. Maybe back in high school, he thinks. It wasn’t due to friction or unlikability. He just had other priorities; people were unpredictable, but school—and then his career—were always the same. Change made Walter nervous. It always had until now.
“Adults have friends,” he thinks to himself.
Drifting off to sleep on Thursday night - or “Friday Eve,” as it's called in the office - he finds himself repeating what Daniel said, the request swirling around his head,
“Beers,” he echoes, “do I like beer?”