Chapter Six; Part One
“I’m fine,” I say sharply, placing my hands on her shoulders and pushing her away. I do not like being touched without my permission, especially by someone I don’t like.
“It must be so awful! Her being murdered like that!” Sara’s eyes are fastened on mine, and I get the uncomfortable feeling that she’s getting a kick out of this. There are people who thrive on misery, and she might be one of them.
“Yes. It’s not great.” I sit at my desk and turn on my computer. I pointedly keep my back to Sara so she might take the hint. Alas, she does not.
“I know you’re grieving right now. If there’s anything you need, I would be more than happy to help you. Anything at all!” Sara materializes in front of me, her hands clasped in front of her breasts. I can’t help but notice she’s wearing a black dress that is very out of character with her love for pastels. Her eyes are moist, and I look askance at her. I hate people who absorb the misery of others, ,and she would appear to be one of those people.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I drop my eyes as my computer starts chugging. I just want her to go away, but she stubbornly refuses to take the hint.
“Would you like to have dinner tonight?” Sara clasps my arm, and I glare at the offending appendage. I know it’s time to put my foot down, hard. I glance into Sara’s hopeful eyes, and I steel myself for the unpleasant task at hand.
“No, Sara, I do not want to have dinner tonight. I do not want to have dinner with you any night. We are colleagues. Nothing more. I want to keep it at that.” I remove her hand from my arm and let it drop to her side. She immediately bursts into tears.
“Why do you have to be so mean to me? I like you so much, and you hate me!” Sara runs from the room, loudly sobbing. I get the feeling I’m supposed to chase after her, but I don’t move. I’m unhappy that her little scenes are getting more and more frequent, but I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t want to go to my supervisor because Sara hasn’t done anything egregiously wrong. I don’t want her to be fired; I just want her to leave me alone.
“She’s a soul-sucker, isn’t she?” Lynnette whispers as she passes my desk. She’s a comely redhead in her thirties, and I like the way she livens up the place. “She tried to do the same thing to me a month ago, but I shut her down right fast.”
“I went to lunch with her once,” I say, keeping my voice low as well. “I think that was probably a big mistake.”