The Very Nice Box

by Eve Gleichman

  “That’s too bad,” Ava said. “I’ll have to check it out.”

  This caught Jaime’s attention. He’d clearly been listening. “T-Double-M?” he said from his desk.

  “Thirty-Minute Machine,” Ava said.

  Jaime turned back toward his computer and rolled his eyes.

  “Hey, man,” Mat said. “Don’t make me push the neg alarm!” He was smiling, but Ava sensed an edge to the threat.

  “It’s just—T-Double-M ? Who even calls it that?” Jaime had reddened.

  Mat betrayed a flicker of embarrassment. “I guess I was just trying to be efficient, like Ava here. Let’s encourage each other, okay? One thousand percent positivity all around. Sound good, Jaime?”

  “Yes, Mathew,” Jaime said. He pushed himself up from his Encouraging Desk Chair and headed toward the Wellness Kitchen.

  Ava glanced up at Mat. His hair stuck up in the back, and his eyes were puffy. Ava wondered if he’d been awake all night too. But she let the thought stop there. She didn’t want to know what—or worse, who—had kept him awake.

  “You, um,” she started, “you forgot this.” She dug into her pocket and held out his yellow bracelet.

  “Amazing—where’d you find this?” Mat said, taking it. “Saved me a trip to the Swag Lounge! I mean, who am I without my yellow bracelet?”

  “You must have dropped it on the street. Outside my apartment.”

  Despite her full-body effort to avoid thinking about the night before, she had done it: walked right back into the memory. Mat fit the bracelet onto his wrist. “Hey, um, listen,” he said quietly. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

  Ava hesitated. She felt her humiliation like a mask on her face. “Actually,” she said, “I’m behind on integrating the Very Nice Box’s safety feature.”

  “Oh,” Mat said. He looked genuinely disappointed. “That’s too bad.” He waited a beat, and she knew he was waiting for her to change her mind. She felt trapped.

  “Maybe later, though,” she said.

  “Oh, really? Great,” Mat said. He lingered a moment, as if preparing to say something more. Instead he patted the hair at the back of his head and made his way to his office.

  Ava closed her eyes. She would will her embarrassment away. She would devote herself to hinges, bolts, latches, and knobs. She would work several Unlimited Outdoors Breaks into her afternoon to break up the remaining units and clear her head. She would attempt to resolve things with Jaime. She would—

  Her email pinged.

  Dear Ava,

  I am pleased to see that you’ve arrived promptly to work, as usual. Please meet me in the People Office as soon as possible.

  Regards,

  Judith Ball

  Chief People Officer

  Green

  Ava’s heart skipped. She opened her S-Cal. Had she missed a Self-Review appointment? Had she said something wrong during the “Yes, And” meeting? She looked around the floor, but everything looked normal. The Technical team sat with their headsets next to a row of coders. A presentation on workplace harassment was happening in the Imagination Room. A couple Spirit team members milled by the Wellness Water cooler. She made her way through the atrium and the Salty Kitchen, past the enormous weeping fig tree that shot up through the center of the building, into an elevator, up three floors, and finally into the crisp, glassed-in offices that housed People. She could smell the pine cleaner before she was even inside Judith’s office, which was immaculate and flooded with natural light. Judith’s seniority at STÄDA meant she had the best office in the building, with a clear view of the Statue of Liberty behind her, the new STÄDA parking lot to her right, and the well-groomed baseball fields in front of her.

  “Ava,” Judith said. “Thank you for coming in. We’ll just wait one more moment.”

  “Wait?” Ava said, closing the door behind her. Her throat was tight and the back of her neck was on fire. “For what?”

  “Whom, in this case,” Judith said, glancing up at her. “Have a seat.”

  She did. They sat for a moment in terrible silence. A Tranquil Clock hung near the door—the same as the one in Ava’s kitchen. Andie’s design. Judith sat across from her, apparently undisturbed by the length of silence. She peeled an orange. Ava fixated on Judith’s hands as she took a Prepared Pocket Knife and cut into the skin, tracing two incisions around the longest axes of the fruit. The skin came off in four identical pieces. She hadn’t even cut into its flesh.

  Behind Judith, her two diplomas hung on the wall, along with the framed photograph of Judith’s twin daughters. The two girls sat in a treehouse, wearing cutoff shorts and sleeveless shirts.

  “I like that photo,” Ava said, attempting to slice through the silence. But Judith did not need to respond. The door had opened. Mat stood, looking unsure of himself.

  “Mathew,” Judith said. “Please, sit.” He did, glancing at Ava with an eyebrow cocked. Ava looked away. She tried to ignore the hard stone that had lodged itself against her throat.

  “Mathew, Ava,” Judith said, “I’ve called you in here today to discuss the nature of your relationship.” She pulled a crisp piece of paper from her desk drawer and uncapped an Inky Black Pen. At the top of the form, in STÄDA’s signature font, were the words WORKPLACE RELATIONSHIP DISCLOSURE FORM. Ava had never seen a STÄDA form like this. She and Andie had never been required to officially disclose their relationship; the company had been too young back then, without a fully formed People Office.

  “Sorry, what?” Mat said.

  “You may act baffled if you wish,” Judith said. “But the fact of the matter is I happened to see you both having breakfast in public a few weeks ago, and yesterday I observed you leaving the parking lot together in Mathew’s car. Finally, I’ve noted that you have coordinated your Unlimited Outdoors Breaks—”

  “Listen, Judith,” Mat interrupted, dragging out the L in Listen just long enough for Judith to change her posture. He softened his voice. “I get that relationship disclosures are important, but this really isn’t necessary. As Ava’s manager, I want to make sure I can cut through the noise and empower her to—”

  “Mathew,” Judith said, with enough quiet force to get him to stop talking. “It’s precisely because you’re her manager that this is so important. You can’t open STÄDA up to unnecessary liability. Now is the time to clear up the matter.” She tapped the end of her pen on her desk.

  “Nothing is going on between Mat and me,” Ava said. “Romantic or otherwise. He’s my manager.”

  “Yes, I was part of the hiring process,” Judith said. “But thank you for that reminder.”

  “And in any case, he has a girlfriend.” She stared at the polished concrete floor. She didn’t sound like herself. Her feelings jumped ahead of every word she spoke. “Are we excused now?” Her ears burned.

  “All true,” said Mat. “Except the girlfriend part. I don’t have a girlfriend.” He crossed his ankle over his knee and clasped his hands behind his head. “So I’m glad we’re here to clear that up. Thanks for the feedback on my attitude, Judith,” he said, facing her. “I’ve been giving Ava rides to and from work because the Vandals destroyed her car.”

  Judith looked alarmed and turned to Ava. “Why didn’t you report that to Security?”

  “Why would she?” Mat said. “Unless someone in Security is a mechanic, all Ava would get from Security is a survey asking her how she felt about Security. No offense to those surveys. I like them, but you have to understand they’re really more of a long-term strategy, not for crises.”

  “Even so,” Judith started, “all matters of security—”

  “As for Outdoors Breaks,” Mat continued, “we’ve been coordinating them to stay fresh on several upcoming campaigns for Ava’s box designs.” He sounded calm, as though he were discussing something as boring as refilling a water cooler. “Ava kindly showed up at my apartment last night—”

  “So you’ve seen each other after hours, at home?” Judith brought the ti
p of the Inky Black Pen to the piece of paper.

  “Yes, but just because Ava was nice enough to drop off the personality bracelet that fell out of my car.” He pulled the bracelet out of his pocket. He was so convincing that Ava momentarily believed that this was how the evening had gone.

  “When I answered the door,” Mat continued, “my sister was home. So Ava must be mistaking my sister for my girlfriend.”

  Ava’s breath caught in her throat.

  “As for my relationship with Ava,” Mat said, “it is, as Ava stated, purely professional. Something you might not totally see, as a Gen-Xer, is that professional work happens both inside and outside office walls. Friendship, trust, and fun are all integral. We’re really redefining what it means to be productive. Right, Ava?”

  “What?” All his words had fallen away except “my sister,” which made Ava feel like she had stepped out of a bad dream and into a much better one.

  “Any interactions we’ve had have been friendly discussions about the Very Nice Box, Ava’s fantastic new Passion Proj—”

  “I know what the Very Nice Box is,” Judith said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. “I watched the ‘Yes, And’ meeting from the virtual conference channel.”

  Ava must be mistaking my sister for my girlfriend. Her assumption now seemed ridiculous. How could she have assumed the woman was his girlfriend without considering all the facts? He’d never mentioned a sister, but then again, she had never asked whether he had siblings. Did they live together? Was she just visiting? She remembered the woman’s hand on Mat’s shoulder. So he had a sister he was close to. And she had lost an entire night of sleep over it.

  “Ava, the Very Nice Box is elegant,” Judith said, straightening her pin. “I think Andie would be—well . . .” She cleared her throat. “She would be proud.”

  “Thanks,” Ava said. She felt her throat constrict. Judith may not have been one to commiserate, but Ava suspected that she had privately grieved Andie’s death. When Ava had returned to work after the accident, she learned that Judith had retired Andie’s role. Although Judith had framed it as a business decision—that promoting Jaime and a few other interns would be cheaper than hiring a new department head—Ava suspected that the decision was more sentimental than Judith let on. Now Judith jotted something on the piece of paper that Ava couldn’t clearly see, aside from the words professional, Unlimited, productivity, and bracelet.

  “And Mathew, I trust that your work is progressing smoothly? You must be busy with all your regular duties on top of overseeing the Vandals task force. I’m eagerly awaiting your plan, which I have no doubt will be thorough after all the time it’s taken you. Do you have any updates to share on that front?”

  Mat rubbed the back of his head. “As a matter of fact, I do have some exciting updates to share about the Vandals task force. I’m just putting the finishing touches on a proposal that I think you will be very happy with. I’ve been busy, but I like busy.” Judith stared at him.

  Mat cleared his throat.

  “You’re excused, if that’s what you’re asking by clearing your throat,” Judith said. “Thank you both for your time and candor.”

  Ava felt an uncontrolled giddiness as she stood and they made their way out of Judith’s office together.

  “Jesus,” Mat said, closing the door behind them. “What is she, stalking us?”

  “I know,” Ava said.

  “The woman needs a hobby.”

  “I totally forgot you are in charge of the Vandals task force. Do you actually have a plan?”

  “Between you and me, no. I one thousand percent forgot about that assignment.” He shrugged. “But sometimes the last minute is the best minute.”

  They stepped into an elevator and Ava pushed the button for the twelfth floor. She was wired, her mind turning. He had a sister. He had no girlfriend. She had no reason to be embarrassed. He’d covered for her.

  “Ava, there’s more I have to tell you,” Mat said as the elevator doors closed. His voice lowered, even though they were alone. He searched her face. “That woman from last night,” he said. “She isn’t my girlfriend. That part was true. But she also isn’t my sister.”

  “What? Who is she?” Ava said. She felt like a fish that had been yanked out of the water and thrown back to sea only to be caught again. The elevator doors slid open. “Why did you say she was your sister?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” Mat said, looking straight ahead and speaking so softly she had to strain to hear him. “Can I stop by tonight?”

  “Stop by my apartment? Yes,” Ava found herself saying. The words preempted the thought. “Of course. I’ll see you tonight. What time?”

  But Mat had already started toward his office, away from her.

  15

  Ava could not bear the thought of a two-unit commute home—not when she had to prepare her apartment for Mat—so she ordered a Swyft from the north lot of the Simple Tower.

  “Enough heat?” the driver said.

  “Yes,” Ava said. She slipped on her Peaceful Headphones and closed her eyes, envisioning Mat inside her apartment. It was impossible—like imagining Roy Stone from Thirty-­Minute Machine showing up. The days had become shorter and more brutal, and by the time she got home, it was dark. She walked Brutus through Fort Greene Park, the wind biting at her, blowing her hood off and chilling her so completely that her ears ached from the inside. Brutus quickly peed on a tree, then whined to turn around, his hind legs quivering in the cold. They headed back to her apartment, the night sharp in her face no matter which direction she turned in.

  She’s not my girlfriend. That part was true.

  She tried to play back the rest of the conversation.

  I’ll tell you later.

  Why had Mat lied, then? And to Judith! And how was Ava supposed to go on with her evening if she had no idea what time he was going to show up? Back inside, she unhooked Brutus’s Curious Leash, and he shook his entire body, releasing himself from the grip of the cold.

  Ava checked her phone. Nothing. Well, she needed to get on with her life. She couldn’t just sit around waiting for Mat to show up whenever it was convenient for him.

  But that was exactly what she did. She tidied the already tidy kitchen, lit an Enduring Candle, blew the candle out, remade her Principled Bed, neatened her Supportive Pillows, wiped down her Appealing Dining Table, and straightened out the clothing in her closets, even though it was already straightened. She looked out her window, desperate for a sign. Every passing car was his until it wasn’t.

  “Well, fine,” she said to Brutus, and his tail beat against the floor expectantly. She started preparing lunch for the next day: a tidy salad with almonds and sweet potatoes. He wasn’t coming at all, and she was the butt of a joke she didn’t understand. Maybe he’d forgotten his own plan entirely, or changed his mind without telling her. Maybe he’d been in a car wreck. Her Serious Knife slipped, slicing into her thumb.

  “Fuck,” she said. “Jesus.” She moved to contain the blood with a paper towel. It was this sort of small jolt—a slip of a knife, or tripping over a sidewalk crack, or hearing someone lay on a horn—that would suddenly send her into a dark place. She held the paper towel against the cut, which bled through immediately, and, leaning against her kitchen counter, she began to cry.

  Since the accident, life had felt unfairly hard. She tried to think of what Andie would say to comfort her now. It’s just a cut. You’re all right. C’mere. Let me see that. She wiped her face with the crook of her elbow and brought another paper towel against her thumb, which had begun to throb.

  The buzzer rang, startling her, and Brutus barked.

  Of course, Ava thought. She cleared her throat and hit Talk. “Hello?” she croaked.

  “It’s freezing! Open up!” Mat’s voice carried through her intercom.

  “Sorry,” she said, buzzing him in, her heart once again out of its cage. The apartment was now a mess. There was no time to hide it from him—the blood had run
through a wad of paper towels and now she saw there was some on the cutting board too, plus her nose was running and she probably looked—

  “Ava?” Mat said, opening her door, sticking his head inside. “You always leave your door unlocked like this?”

  “No!” she said. “No.” She’d been so preoccupied with his visit that she hadn’t even locked the door behind her. Who was she?

  “Hey, what . . . what happened to you?”

  Brutus trotted over to Mat and sniffed his leg.

  Ava looked down at her thumb. “I was chopping . . . I didn’t think you were going to come over . . . and then I slipped. I mean, the knife slipped, and I—”

  “Are you crying?”

  “No,” Ava said.

  Mat smiled at her and tilted his head. He pulled her against his chest, into a tight hug. His coat still held the cold from outside, and her face was pressed against the zipper, but she didn’t care. He held the back of her head with his huge palm. Brutus barked, and Ava suddenly remembered this about him—that he had the capacity to become jealous. As a puppy, any time she and Andie had gotten close, Brutus had attempted to leap between them or caused trouble somewhere else in the apartment to pull at their attention.

  “Sit down,” she said. “I’ll make you some tea.”

  “You sit down,” he said. “Where are your Band-Aids?”

  “I’ll get them,” she said.

  “Sit,” Mat said. “You too,” he said to Brutus, who barked.

  Ava sat on her Practical Sofa and allowed herself the luxury of waiting to be waited on. “In the bathroom,” she said. “Under the—”

  “Got ’em,” Mat said. He peeled open the bandage and sat next to her. He took her hand and clumsily wound it around the cut. “Nice apartment, by the way,” he said. “You weren’t kidding about this being a STÄDA showroom.”

  “It looked better before there was blood on my countertop.”