Chapter 2: Sweaty hands

-SIENNA-

"You seem very distracted today. Is everything ok?" said my boss Roger. We’re in the middle of our Monday morning meeting to organize the work week and I can’t remember a word he said. Roger is the best boss anyone could ask for. He’s very polite, organized, focused, and always available to help with anything that I ask. He’s in his early thirties, divorced, with high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes hidden behind dark-rimmed glasses. He has this hot nerdy vibe that makes a lot of girls and some guys have a crush on him, but he always keeps his distance. I’m so out of focus today that I would be afraid of losing my job if he hadn’t complimented my work so many times over the past few years.

"Sorry. I was thinking about the project that was canceled last week. So many hours invested on it and it was unfortunately shut down."

"The board of directors decided to put it on hold. They will probably want to start it again by the end of the year. It was good, though. Now we have more time to focus on other important matters, such as the new software." He continues explaining the tasks that we’ll need to complete, but I can’t hear a thing anymore.

It was hard for me to pay attention to anything work-related today. After our girls’ night out on Friday, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Michelle’s suggestion, since it seems to be the only option for me to keep my apartment. What would the outcome be if I decided to go through with the fake marriage idea? What are the risks if the immigration office finds out I’ve committed marriage fraud? I avoided searching for information online about the topic how not to be tagged as a potential criminal. I’ve always been a good girl, following the rules. I recycle, always pay for breakfast bars at the office where no one checks the cash register, and I even clean up other people’s trash off the floor. The thought of breaking the law so much makes me want to vomit.

Luckily, Roger cut today's meeting short, and we left the meeting room. I don't want him to realize how inefficient I will be today. I've been working for this company for two years. Roger gave me an opportunity when I was fresh out of college with almost no experience. I have learned immensely from him, and I love working with numbers, something that to others may seem boring. When you calculate something, there is only one right answer: there are no gray areas. This gives me a certain amount of security, something that is important to me. It hadn't even been five minutes since I was back at my desk when Michele arrived beside me.

"So? Have you thought about my suggestion from the other night?" she asks, her voice almost a whisper. "The guy is desperate and will need a decision by the end of the week." As if it wasn't enough to consider such an absurd idea, but combined with the time pressure, it ends up intensifying the dread I'm feeling.

"I’m not sure. Can I meet the guy? That might help me decide." I reply in a low tone. The last thing I want is for my curious colleagues to find out about my outlaw intentions. I rub my sweaty hands on my dark blue pencil skirt, trying to calm myself down. I was so nervous in the morning after another sleepless night that I didn't think twice about what I was going to wear. After a shower, I grabbed the first skirt I saw and paired it with a matching blue silk blouse. Thank God I didn't eat anything for breakfast, otherwise I would have thrown up by now.

"Yes, that can be arranged. Do you want me to invite him over to our place? Hank and I can act as a buffer between the two of you, helping you both get more comfortable," she offers while playing with her pearl earrings. Probably another gift from Hank. He spoils her rotten, giving her presents all the time. Michelle is gorgeous like a young Beyoncé, intelligent, funny, and I am very happy to see that my friend is truly appreciated by her boyfriend.

"Thanks, but I think it would be better if we met at a coffee shop where we could get to know each other better. Without you there, we'd be forced to talk to each other." I exhale deeply. I can’t avoid the subject any longer, though the mere thought leaft a strange taste in my mouth. Paying off my student loans, along with the hospital bills, hasn’t been easy. I’ve barely been able to make ends meet. With the rent going up all the time, everything has become impossible. "Can you please ask Hank to give the guy my number? I'll need his contact information also. What's his story anyway? Why can't he have a visa, and why couldn't he find a suitable person to marry him?"

She looks up, searching for information from the bottom of her brain and says: "I don’t know much. Apparently, he had some issues with someone from his old team and had to be traded. As I understand, he couldn't qualify for a visa due to some issues with his French/Canadian passport, and he needs to solve it quickly before the season starts. I met the guy once when we went out for drinks after a pre-game. He is kind of hot, not as hot as Hank, though. He had a beer with us and went home early without talking."

That, unfortunately, doesn’t bring much to the table. I’ll have to ask everything during our meetup. Perhaps I should bring a list of the major topics in order to avoid forgetting important issues, such as agreeing to wash his dirty underwear or to have a baby with him.

What I have to do is think about the guy as a new roommate. Yes, this can work. I'll forget that I have a piece of paper legally binding me to him and move forward with my life. I feet a little relieved already and can breathe better for the first time today. "And one last question. What’s his name?"

She moved closer to avoid prying ears and answered me without further delay. "Matthew Gruber. But everybody calls him Matt".