The Human Mate

I smiled as I looked at the wall clock. Thirty minutes left to head in for my long whimsical weekend. I organized the pages of myreport for the sixth time then stapled them together. I put them down, dug through my bag and retrieved my pocket mirror. My black eyes looked tired but sharp. My lip-gloss was a bit smudged from batting my lips together all morning. I lifted my black suede bag to my thighs. It normally my first choice but being a gift, I couldn’t just throw it at the back of my closet and forget all about it. I extracted my lip gloss and reapplied it.

Satisfied with the outcome I put away my mirror and make up and organized the articles on my desk. I wanted it to look neat for my meeting with the Robertson’s on Monday. Their case was really giving me a tough time.  I couldn’t comprehend why someone would get married to a man she knew dreamt of having children when she herself wanted none. I sighed, then stared at the family photograph on my desk. We were truly a beautiful looking family. 

I had always asked my parents why they had settled after just having one child and had never gotten a straight forward answer. They both seemed too keen on avoiding the subject altogether but I suspect that my mum’s pregnancy wasn’t exactly a bed of roses. She probably told my dad that she wasn’t having another child after me. But then again, I’d never heard her complain about her nine months carrying me.

As I sat there contemplating the reasons behind my being an only child, I barely noticed Suzanne knock at my office door and walk in.  She was smiling her ‘I have something big to tell you smile’. Her red lipstick was brighter than ever. Her long straight dark hair secured neatly in a bun. Suzanne was smartly dressed in a beige pantsuit.

“Almost done for the day?” She asked as she got closer to my desk.

“Just about.” I replied.

“Guess what?” Suzanne leaned over my desk and handed me her phone. “We’re trending on Instagram.”

“What? How?” I ask, snatching the device from Suzanne tostudy the post on it.

“You do remember that we’re friends with Rose Reynolds. The fastest rising journalist of the century. She’s working for Vogue magazine now and yet many other magazine brands are still trying to porch her.”

“I explicitly asked her to not make our photos public. I don’t enjoy the extra attention.” I handed Suzanne her phone back.

“Obviously she was never going to listen. Anyways, pick you up at your place? Or are we just going to meet up at the club?”

“What on earth are you talking about? I’m not going out tonight.” I speak while I pick up my briefcase and load my laptop inside. 

“Come on Clare. We promised to help our friend pick the perfect venue for her 25th birthday party. You can’t back out now.”