Amelia
By the morning, I’m spiraling. I sent the text at 11 p. m., and I know for a fact that Crawford never
sle eps. He regularly emails me in the early hours, but he hasn’t r eplied. As I get ready for work, I check
my phone obsessively, waiting for a text, an email—anything. By the time I get on the subway, my palms
are sweating, and I have my phone in my hand the whole way, staring at it, willing something to show up.
But nothing does. Walking into the office, my mind is a flurry of half-imagined disasters. I picture
walking up to my desk, finding Crawford and HR standing there, holding a termination form, telling me
my actions were disgusting and d epraved.
Every time my phone lights up with a notification, I imagine that it’s Sterling House telling me I’m
fired for breach of contract.
I feel sick as I walk to my desk. I sit down and wait for the buzzer to sound, but it’s eerily quiet.
Opening my computer, I glance at his door obsessively, clicking on his calendar to see where he’s
supposed to be today. He should be in the office this morning, and usually he would call for me as soon as
I sit down. I wait patiently for him to emerge.
By midday, he still hasn’t appeared. I have no emails from him, no texts, and I haven’t heard a sound
from his office. No one has come by to see him, and he had a meeting scheduled at ten.
Eventually, I can’t stand the suspense any longer and call Kaitlin. “Hey, what’s up?” she asks,
sounding busy.
“Did Crawford cancel his meeting with Kendrick at ten?” I ask, and I hear the clicking of her mouse
through the phone.
“No, Kendrick couldn’t make that one. He called last night to say he had to be out of the office. Is
everything okay?”
“Have you seen Crawford today?” “No, I haven’t actually. Sometimes an urgent issue will come in
overnight and he’ll be out dealing with that, but I haven’t heard anything... hang on...” Her voice
becomes muffled as I hear her asking Beatrice something. “Beatrice says Crawford asked not to be
disturbed this morning. Sorry, I got in late and I’m only just catching up. Did you need him for
something?”
“No, no, that’s okay. I’m... I’ll... I was just checking.” I hang up, my chest tightening.
Then I jump out of my seat as the phone on my desk lights up again. I grab it, wondering if it might be
Kaitlin calling me back.
“Hello?” “Amelia,” I let out a long breath of relief at his familiar voice, but he sounds strange.
“Mr. Crawford?” There’s the sound of a hacking cough through the phone. “I need you to go into my
office, please. There are three folders on my desk. Collect them and bring them back. I’ll stay on the line.”
“Is everything okay?” “Just do it, please.” I put the phone down, rising and going into his office and
over the plush carpet to his desk. It’s immaculate as ever, with three folders stacked on the edge.
I grab them and go back to my desk. “Okay, I have them,” I say. “Good. Go down to the parking lot.”
“Uh... excuse me?” “Go down to the parking lot. I need you to go meet Melvin. Bring your laptop, a pen
and paper, and the files. He’ll drive you to my apartment.”
He coughs again, and it sounds hoarse and painful. “Are you alright?” I ask, my chest tightening, he
sounds awful. “I’m fine.” “You sound sick.”
“I’m not sick,” he says, anger rising in his voice. “Don’t tell anyone I’m sick.”
“Do you want me to ask Beatrice or the others to do anything?” “No. I sent them my instructions over
email. I just need you to do what I’ve told you to do and stop asking questions.”
He hangs up, and I pull the phone away from my ear, staring at it irritably.
I put the folders into my bag, along with a pen and paper. I go back to his office, unplug his laptop,
and bring that too, just in case he doesn’t have one at home.
I pause for a moment, looking out through the window at the beautiful view. I can imagine sitting on
his office chair, curled up contentedly, painting for hours in this space.
He hasn’t mentioned the photograph I sent, and at this point, I don’t care; I’m just grateful I’m not
fired. Not yet at least.
I head back to my desk, pick up my bag, and hover, unsure how to play this. If Beatrice sees me leave,
she’ll ask where I’m headed, and I’ve never been very good at lying to people. Telling her I’m going to
his apartment is out of the question. I get the feeling the other EAs have never been there.
Racking my brain, I walk through the office toward Kaitlin, Julia, and Beatrice.
“Hi, Crawford has asked me to deliver some files for him,” I say vaguely, expecting a thousand
questions about where I’m going, but Beatrice just glances at me disdainfully, flicking her hair out of her
face.
“He emailed me about that. It’s fine. You don’t need to r eport to us every time you go anywhere,” she
snaps.
She has a long list of names in front of her and hundreds of thick, cream envelopes. There’s a big gala
coming up soon, and she’s been stressing about it for weeks.
I look at Kaitlin and Julia, and they don’t look any better than Beatrice. My heart aches for them.
They all work so hard, and it doesn’t seem as if they get much recognition for what they do.
“He asked me to thank you,” I blurt out. Beatrice looks up with her eyebrows raised.
“What? What for?” “He said he appreciates how smoothly things have been running lately.”
It isn’t a lie. I saw an email he sent to Vanessa about it. Beatrice stills as she glances at Kaitlin.
“Oh,” her shoulders lower a little, the invites in her hands resting on the desk. “Well, that’s good.”
“He’s been out a lot, I know, but he talks about you three all the time. He values the work you do. I
can tell.”
Julia and Kaitlin are both smiling now, watching Beatrice. I wonder how many times in his life
Crawford has complimented them. By the look of surprise on their faces, probably never.
“Okay, you’ll be late if you don’t go now,” Beatrice says, but her voice is a little less frosty than it
was.
I turn, heading to the elevators with a little smile on my face. When I reach the parking lot, Melvin is
already waiting for me.
I climb in and nod at him. “My lady,” he says. “My lord,” I r eply. “Is he sick?” Melvin rolls his eyes.
“He’s never sick.” “Is that the official line, or do you genuinely believe that?” He shifts in his chair,
uncomfortably. “He doesn’t like people to know he’s human. He has to show the world that he can tackle
anything. He can’t afford for his rivals to know he occasionally gets the flu.”
“But in your professional opinion?” I ask, and he smirks at me. “He’s sick as a dog. Didn’t even chew
me out for being five minutes late this morning.”
“Has he left his apartment?” “Tried to. I took him halfway to the office, and he threw up on the
sidewalk, so I took him home again. I’ve been waiting for him to ask me to collect you for an hour.”
“Why me? Doesn’t he want one of the other EAs to help?” His expression when he meets my gaze is
hard to read. “He wanted you.”
His tone is odd, but I brush it aside as he starts the engine and we drive off.
“Do you think we could make a stop on the way?” I ask. “I don’t want to get you in trouble though.”
Melvin raises an eyebrow at me. “What did you have in mind?”