A chill went down my spine as screams and sobs filled the main office.
I knew the sound of that glass breaking would haunt all of us in the room for
the rest of our lives, like the shards pricking at our insides over and over.
We were on the eighth floor of the building. Several people peered out of
broken window to look down. Some stayed there, others recoiled in horror.
As though guided by an invisible rope, I glided towards the window. I was
shaking, but unafraid. My morbid curiosity always got the better of me. My
high-heels crunched the broken glass as I reached the window.
I stared ahead at the vast, cloudless sky. Then I looked down and saw her.
Korina, clad in her black jacket and pencil skirt, lay twisted on the ground,
blood pooling around her head, and, even from this height, I could see a
bone sticking out of her ankle.
Beads of sweat accumulated on my temple and neck. I collapsed on to a
nearby chair and wiped my forehead. I suddenly felt dehydrated and cold at
the same time.
Through the rest of the day I watched almost everyone at the office go
through some sort of meltdown. New sides to people I had worked with for
so long emerged. It was uncomfortable and frightening. The most
vulnerable, inner parts of people were on display. The tough guys cried, the
women were blubbering messes and the bosses were completely at odds at
what to do with everyone. I heard my boss say in a shaken voice to the
police that she had planned to get safety glass installed in all of the floors.
I tried to make myself useful by getting people coats and hot drinks for the
shock, hugging other co-workers to give them a little comfort and providing
the police with as much information as I could.
To work hard had always been my motto. Always being occupied was
essential. So when Claire told me to go home with everyone else in our
office, I was taken aback. This was not like her to send me home. She had
always revered my willingness to work overtime. But now, at only one in the
afternoon, she was insistent that I take the rest of the day off.
Throughout the drive home, the questions in my head doubled, tripled and
quadrupled. The main one that kept me up half the night was:
Why would Korina choose such a public and violent death, when things
seemed be going so well in her life?
A week later I arrived late and a little flustered at Cafe Bizarre. I could
already see my group settled with their drinks at the square table.
Ashley Kent, who appeared too shell-shocked to sip at her gin and tonic, and
Steve Prempton, a man I found irresistibly hot.
I brushed away my cat’s hairs from my coat and sat next to Steve. My face
flushed as his fingers accidentally brushed over my tights.
“She was so young,” said Ashley, dabbing her running nose with her napkin.
“I can’t even imagine what her parents must be going through.”
I hesitated for a moment and, plucking up my courage, opened my dry
mouth and said: “I wish I could have known her better. She always seemed
like a lovely woman. I mean….”
I struggled a bit. “Why would she do this? Did you guys know if she had
problems at home? Was it something to do with work?”
“How could it be work?” said Ashley, suddenly irritated. “In any case, we
shouldn’t go inquiring about her personal life. People do have a right to
privacy.”
I glowered at her, aghast.
“Ashley, Korina is dead!” I found myself shaking. “She threw herself out of
OUR office window. There has to be a reason for this and we should know
why.”
“I don’t want to know!” she said, bringing her tissue to her nose again.
“Well she wouldn’t do this unless she was pushed to the edge!”
“How do you know? You just said it yourself, you barely knew her.”
My hands balled into fists. She didn’t know Korina either.
Swallowing my anger, I asked as calmly as possible: “Do you know why she
did it?”
“I do.”
My heart leaped in my mouth as Steve, who was sweating profusely, spoke
the first words since I’d sat down. He swallowed, and said:
“Korina and I, well…”
An affair? Shock and indignation flushed my whole body. They were having
an affair.
All eyes were on him now. He looked down, licking his lips.
With each second he hesitated, my fury increased. When he started to fiddle
with his credit card, I exploded.
“Well WHAT?”
“It had been a few months back.” he said. “When we first started going out,
she was normal. She seemed happy. Then after a few weeks, she, er. She
started… acting strangely.”
I held my breath for a few seconds. A couple sat a few feet from us clinked
their glasses.
“She was always crying. She drank a lot. Whenever an animal appeared on
the screen of my television, she had to leave the room. I asked her what was
wrong, but she said she didn’t want to talk about it. But she finally came
clean and told me her dog had died. That’s why she never brought me to her
apartment again. The pain was too much. Then, um, two weeks ago she
asked Claire for some time off for mental exhaustion. But of course, it was
the start of the conference. There was just no way.”
I thought back on the lecture on the conference Claire had given us three
months before. She strictly forbade any of us to plan a vacation during this
time. Even interns had to be taken in to help us out.
My breathing increased as Steve continued.
“A few days later, she was drinking, heavily. I tried to talk to her, reason
with her, and get her to contact her parents. But she kept shutting me out.
Her heart was broken. It was almost like I wasn’t there.”
He paused. My heart drilled in my chest. My palms felt clammy. I’d had so
many fantasies of how he would be as a partner to me. Now I felt deeply
uncomfortable sitting alongside him.
“So you broke up with her.” I said.
“I thought I was doing the right thing. I even gave her a ring as a goodbye
gift.”
He stopped, unable to continue. He placed his hand over his mouth, his face
pale.
Ashley screeched her chair backwards and made a bolt for the bathroom.
He and I were both alone. The chatter around us sounded like a distant noise.
I tried to remember how Korina had been that day. Jittery, for sure. But she
had been like that for a month. Her composure was refined, her
conversations with everyone else were short and to the point. And she had
never really one for banter.
As I pictured her walking among the cubicles, I remembered one small detail
I had overlooked that day. She had kept looking out of that window and
trailing her knuckle across the glass in a circle. She was still keeping busy
with her computer and paperwork. But she kept returning to the window,
rotating her index finger at the center of it, as though wiping off a stain.
No one else paid attention to her. I certainly didn’t think anything of it.
But now it fell into place.
The ring, Steve’s little “parting gift”, and the office, where her boss forced
her to work hard despite her mental state: she was making a point. They
were the two things that exacerbated the agonizing grief for her dog - a
gorgeous little Cairn terrier, who, according to Korina, “loved everyone”.
I glared at Steve. He started to play with his credit card again.
I pictured him with her, unable to cope with her tears and drinking,
abandoning her in her most desperate hour, leaving behind only an
expensive ring for comfort.
Everyone had deserted her; her pride and joy, the sympathy of her boss and
the man she was going out with.
No person should ever have to cope with so much loss.
Tears prickling my eyes, I grabbed my bag and ran out of the bar.
Once I was alone in my car, the floodgates opened. For Korina, her family,
wherever they were, and even for her beloved Cairn.
I entered my apartment with Izzy mewing at my arrival. More tears fell
down as I ripped up his food pouch and dipped the saucy meat into his bowl.
I slipped off my high-heeled shoes, sat on the sofa and turned on the game
shows.
After watching the usual quiz for fifteen minutes, I felt a chill up my arms
and saw that I had left the window open.
Izzy came back into the room, licking his jaws as I got up and walked
towards the window.
The breeze was mild and the night was calm and silent. I breathed in the
fresh air.
Korina had not been silent. She’d spoken up about her problems. But no one
listened to her.
I closed the window and turned back to Izzy, who stared at me in a puzzling
sort of way.
I nestled back onto the couch and Izzy curled up next to me.
“Don’t worry,” I said, stroking my cat’s head as he squinted. “Korina won’t
be forgotten. This time tomorrow, everyone will know the truth.”
