WHEN YOU HEAL

SPLASH

First name: 

Embarrassed.

Last name: 

Frustration.

Sana logged out of the call.

Why did Sana always have to end up making a Mr. Bean impression in front of a large audience in the name of the Almighty and his cherubins?

Could she not just for once shine with a witty comment or stylish appearance. No, she had to be the clumsy woman everyone remembered by her meme-worthy actions instead of her name.

It took Sana almost a year to get rid of mockeries and beer names such as Heineken, 1664, and encounters that began with, "aren't you the girl who got beer thrown on her face?"

The incident with Lee revived the other episode starring the man and a pint of lager. Sana shuddered as the images poured from her mind's beer tap.

Newly promoted as store manager after spending two years as an assistant, Sana was proud to have risen but hated the obligations that came with the position.

Business trips, no, Sana was not enchanted by the voyage where one left the lover behind to share a room with a random colleague, eat awful food, assist to conferences and workshops.

At least this time, the event was in London. A city she knew but did not affectionate. The lack of sunlight and constant damp weather influenced her mood, which plummeted below zero.

Now she stood at another event she detested, the closing after-party. The company did everything to make sure employees mingled.

The strategy worked; some did more than share a few beers.

According to Keela, a wedding invitation from a random colleague dropped in her Outlook mailbox every month, a christening invitation every two months, and two Bar Mitzvah per semester, amongst other events.

One of the higher-ups probably thought their job consisted of connecting people like Nokia.

Her bosses and seventy percent of the company were from the United Kingdom. Thus they drank as though tomorrow would never dawn; not refined wine but pints, huge boxing gloves size beers for a total knockout.

Sana was nervous. During the three days, she managed to slalom from day to day without being noticed. She clung to the other French managers for dear life as Keela was busy with people from her department. They sat in the conferences by region, and when the time came to speak, Sana let whoever wished to flaunt their knowledge do the show.

There at the party, it was just about having fun and not gaining pointers. Everyone joined a group of their choice, and Sana had none.

"So who's who?"

Keela spared her a few minutes to explain, "okay, you have the German team over there. They'll be doing drinking challenges all night. There you have Fabrice and almost everyone from marketing."

"Who's that guy? He seems to interest the crowd?"

"That's Olaf Nielssen, the new product manager. He's the man of the moment; he's always the center of attention. Over there, you have Micheal Gulliams from retail ops. The guy with the salt and pepper hair Micheal is talking with is Lee Cook. He's one of the older regionals and one of Micheal's best buddies. Poor soul, he's going through hell since his wife left."

"Keela, come on."

"Just a moment, Lisa," Keela turned to whisper, "I have to go and kiss some boots, stilettos, and make egos shine," she gave Sana a wink and strutted away.

Alone, Sana turned to the buffet. She wondered how everyone managed to drink so much without eating. She picked and ate anything already sliced and avoided anything that would stick to her teeth.

Lee arrived and picked a plate. For the first time in the evening, the man felt freed from sterile conversations. He took some avocado and shrimp salad, pasta salad, and a few slices of bread. All he picked had sauces, and Sana thought it was risky with the prominent beard he had.

To Sana's surprise, the man remained standing next to her.

"Hello," the woman wondered what demon possessed her. The man minded his business. Why did she do that?

"Hi."

The reply had the woman blinking in dismay, imagining she had to follow up, "I'm Sana."

"Lee."

"Nice to meet you."

Lee's eyes remained focused on his hands. One held his beer while the other the plate of food. He debated on his immediate needs.

Should he quench his thirst first or fill his stomach?

Was he even hungry?

Unaware of the internal turmoil Lee was in Sana, prompted by the lack of response, pursued, "I'm sorry about your wife. It's always difficult to lose someone."

Lee slowly turned to face Sana.

Was it a joke?

Did Camille send one of her friends to mock him?

It was already hard enough to live as a trending topic on every one of their headquarters department floors, but this was too much for the man who felt humiliated beyond compare.

Inside, the Alpha male in him howled.

How dare this stranger mention his wife.

In his mind, Lee conjured different scenarios. He settled for the one which would earn him a fine and an apology instead of the option which would condemn him to a life sentence.

Sana ignored Lee's body language. 

The man stood stiff. Tiny veins began to throb to accompany his rising temperature, making his mind release a cartoonist boiling kettle whistle.

"It's amazing that you're even partcipatㅡ."

Splash.

Unwarranted and without warning, Sana's face got a live version of Hokusai's Great Wave on her face. Her gaping mouth welcomed a part of the icy lager while her hair and shirt soaked in the rest.

Lee walked away as all froze to stare at Sana.

"Sana, what happened?" Keela took no time to come back. Unlike the rest of the employees around, she just saw Lee walk away, but the word spread like wildfire, and now she dabbed her handkerchief on Sana's shirt.

"I don't know; I was speaking to that regional manager who lost his wife and giving my condolences for his loss when he just threw his pint of beer at me."

"Sana, his wife isn't dead. When I said she left him, I meant that as in breakup, divorce, not death."

"Well, sorry, you should have made it clear."

Misinterpretations and misunderstandings, life was full of them, but what Sana found when she got home left no room for any miss of any kind.