In Spite of You, page 19
Jeremy pulled out a bunch of manila folders and handed them to everyone around the table. He was secretly proud of how official they looked, like they were cold war spies plotting to either blow up or erect a huge wall.
‘The eat shit or die plan,’ Anna read out aloud, enunciating each word, ending with the upwards lilt of a question. ‘Jeremy, what the fuck?’
‘It’s something my mum said,’ Jeremy answered, with a little bit of chagrin. ‘And eat shit or die almost rhymes with spite pie – for those of you who don’t know, the spite pie was my original plan. It’s a long story, but this … this is my new plan.’
‘The plan is to eat shit … or die?’ asked Sarah-Jessica in outrage.
‘The plan is to eat shit or die trying.’ Jeremy took another breath, and tried to channel his inner CEO, or someone else who routinely gave people folders full of information. ‘All of you bring something different to this plan, which is why I’ve asked you all together. It’s kind of a brainstorming session, a romantic think tank.’
‘Ocean’s Eleven but for simps,’ Liz added.
‘Sure,’ Jeremy said. ‘Liz and Anna have been involved the entire time. We have a kind of three-witches-from-Macbeth situation going, and I trust them with my life. Sarah-Jessica is a pop-culture genius who has probably seen every Christmas romance movie that’s ever been made, so I think she’ll have some great ideas on how to turn this relationship disaster around, maybe in a festive fashion. Bradley is a very successful crisis manager for a large corporation, which I thought could be useful too, because this is absolutely a crisis.’
‘No, I’m not,’ Bradley said in bewilderment. ‘I do HR for a bank.’
‘Oh. Well, umm, I just value your thoughts,’ Jeremy lied. He actually thought that HR professionals were just workplace cops and should never be trusted. ‘I also invited my mum, but she said it’s “déclassé” to come into the city on weeknights,’ he went on. ‘And last of all, we have Heather, who is the only member of this group who has actually dated Sam, so her input will be very … very valuable.’
Heather looked at him, her smooth face creased with worry. ‘Oh, I don’t think I’m comfortable with this, Jeremy …’ she said slowly. ‘I’m sure you mean well, but you can imagine how … strange this might be for me, right? And I don’t think it’s fair on Sam to have people talking about him behind his back.’ She gathered her handbag and coat and stood up.
‘That’s totally fair, Heather, and I expected this response.’ Jeremy took a deep breath and held up a hand. ‘I’m not an idiot. Well, I am, but I guess I’m optimistic too. And I’m desperate, so if you could give me any advice, literally anything, that would be amazing.’
Heather paused, still angled towards the door, then she looked briefly at the ceiling. ‘Okay, I’m telling you this because I honestly did pick up something between you two. He seemed happier around you than I’d seen him in a long time. You know we talked about him coming out as bisexual when we were dating – without the two of us breaking up? He thought it would be unfair on me – no matter how much I protested, and no matter how important I thought it was for him to … I don’t know, find himself.’
Jeremy shook his head. ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘I only mention it because that kind of selflessness is always seen as a positive. But I dunno – maybe it’s a flaw. I gotta go. Good luck, Jeremy.’
Jeremy waved despondently as she left and turned back to the rest of the room.
‘Well, that was cryptic,’ Liz said. ‘Felt like a zen riddle or something.’
‘Sam has thirty oranges and is too selfless. How many oranges will Sam be carrying if he catches a train at seven pm?’ said Anna.
‘It’s okay,’ Jeremy said. ‘I was expecting too much. It was probably crazy of me to invite Heather like that.’ He sighed. ‘I just need to convince Sam I’m sorry. Maybe I could show up at his door and play music from a boombox until he forgives me?’
‘Turning up at his door didn’t go so well last time,’ Anna reminded him.
‘Who is Sam?’ Bradley whispered to Sarah-Jessica, who shrugged.
‘I literally don’t know what anyone is talking about,’ Sarah-Jessica piped up, raising her hand. ‘But I think that hot lady who just left actually has a point, because look at everything you’ve written about this guy.’ She pointed at the binder. Jeremy had copied Sam’s spite-pie plan to such an extent that he’d photocopied the original document and written over the top. In the key stakeholders section, he’d tried to describe Sam.
‘Blah, blah, blah, handsome, blah, blah, blah, thick meaty thighs,’ Sarah-Jessica read. ‘And then like seven different synonyms for “kind” and “nice”.’
‘Well, he is,’ Jeremy said, staring wistfully into the distance for a second. ‘That’s how we met; he was very generous to a stranger – an unfriendly stranger at that.’
‘Yeah, but, like, isn’t that what the old lady said?’
‘She’s not old,’ Jeremy said crossly. His young staff seemed to think anyone over twenty-five deserved the orange seat on the bus.
‘Whatever: the point is maybe you could do something to show you appreciate this guy for more than just being generous and nice?’
‘That’s a good idea,’ inserted Bradley. ‘A friend of mine, Big Dick Harry, has this issue where guys only want to sleep with him because of how massive his cock is, but he also wanted someone to fall in love with his huge veiny heart too.’
‘Tale as old as time,’ Jeremy muttered – but his brain was working frenetically, and he started snapping his fingers in a way that annoyed even himself. ‘So, what if I did like … a big gesture … where instead of him helping other people, I help him? A kind of reversal, a plot twist? I could … buy him … a whole new wardrobe, because I’m great at fashion and that would be pretty generous. No, that’s stupid.’
‘It’s gotta be something meaningful to him,’ replied Anna. ‘It’s gotta be Make-A-Wish-style generosity, like something Sam’s always wanted or that would change his life.’
‘Dark analogy,’ Jeremy noted.
‘I do think you’re onto something though,’ said Sarah-Jessica, tapping away on her laptop like it was the morning pitch meeting. ‘Every good romance movie has that big moment. Any chance he’s moving to London and you can chase him through the airport and give a big speech?’
‘I agree with this too,’ said Bradley, looking briefly professional as he adjusted his glasses. It was always weird remembering that someone who you’d seen accidentally drink cigarette butts out of an empty beer bottle also had a real-person job and knew what they were doing. ‘We deal with a lot of empty apologies in HR, so you have to work to show that you mean it.’
‘This is all good … really good,’ Jeremy said, scribbling down some utterly illegible notes. ‘Keep going!’
There was silence for a while, and when Jeremy looked up encouragingly, Liz just shrugged and drawled, ‘Only you know what would be the most meaningful and important gesture to make for Sam. Plus, I’m getting bored.’
‘Me?’ Jeremy asked stupidly. ‘What can I do?’
‘I dunno. This is veering into some aspirational bullshit. Maybe your dad will visit you in a giant cloud formation and tell you to believe in yourself.’
‘He’s not dead; he just has another family.’
‘Well, maybe they’re up there with him. Maybe there’s a whole pride march of family members in the sky who are just waiting to give you advice,’ Liz said sarcastically.
Jeremy stiffened and then abruptly grabbed Liz’s face with his hands and bent over and smooched her loudly on the forehead. ‘March!’ he said triumphantly.
‘Eww, so wet,’ she gasped, laughing.
‘You are a GENIUS!’ Jeremy yelled.
‘I know. But why specifically?’ Liz asked.
‘I know what means a lot to Sam, how to help him, and what skills I have to do it. March!’
It was lucky Jeremy had had so much practice recently with implementing insane plans with looming deadlines, because now he knew what he had to do for his grand gesture, he had a massive amount to do in a very short amount of time. It was also lucky he hadn’t rage-quit his job at PopBuzz because the site was integral to the success of his new plan.
In the time Jeremy had known Sam, Sam had been planning and stressing and hoping about one thing. And despite Jeremy’s obsession with himself and his own nonsense, even he had eventually realised how important it was to Sam: the goddamn climate rally.
They’d discussed it so many times – Sam’s hopes, his fears, his excitement and passion for the project. That fervent belief in something unselfish and constructive was one of the aspects of Sam’s personality that had made Jeremy fall for him in the first place, and even with his outward contempt for ‘broccoli jobs’, it had secretly made him feel bad about his own work.
Luckily, now he could use all his skills and networks and energy to make Sam’s rally a huge success. Sam would never ask him for help, but Jeremy knew it would mean something. Even if Sam never spoke to him again, never forgave him, at least Jeremy would go to his cold wet grave knowing he’d done something good for someone he cared about – and also the environment.
‘Right,’ Jeremy said, back in the PopBuzz office the next day, the team lounging around him with their coffees and laptops in their usual morning meeting area. ‘Something a bit different today – we’re going to make a difference. Or more of a difference anyway. We’re gonna shine a light on climate change!’
‘I haven’t seen it,’ said Veronica, one of the youths they paid to be on TikTok all day.
‘Climate change isn’t a TV show, it’s … the thing happening to the world,’ Jeremy clarified. ‘And it’s bad.’
‘Okay, I clearly knew that,’ Veronica scoffed. ‘It’s just that we usually cover mostly TV here, so it was an easy mistake.’
Sarah-Jessica and Aiden meanwhile were looking knowingly at him, already understanding exactly what his game was.
‘I think it’s a flagrant violation of journalistic ethics to wield your power as deputy editor like this,’ said Sasha, a little pompously. ‘But on the other hand, we should be trying to educate our audience about climate change and this rally is objectively important. I’ve already been pushing for more climate coverage.’
‘Also, ethically, we should all try to help our boss get laid,’ added Aiden.
Jeremy had explained the entire Sam situation to the team, feeling like it was already pretty ethically dubious. Plus, he was sure they’d have all found out via gossip anyway.
‘Yikes,’ said Jeremy. ‘I’m going to get fired. Or taken to The Hague.’
The team worked hard – Jeremy was surprised to find that most of them actually enjoyed the challenge of writing about something different, and perhaps the virtue of the project was giving them new purpose also. He was taking a note for the future – maybe he’d been underestimating his team?
He was propelled by anxiety and stress and deadlines, but also the knowledge he was doing the right thing – not just because he was helping a good cause, but because Sam was the right thing for him. It was weird not to have any doubts about that. He had plenty of doubts about whether this plan would work, if he could pull it off, but not about Sam.
The days passed, and Jeremy was working late into the night – without being paid to, he realised grimly. He’d become everything he hated. Sometimes he imagined he was in a film, in one of those montages where he’d wake up at his desk, glasses askew, rubbing a crick in his neck. That was pure fiction, however; Jeremy found it hard to sleep in an actual bed, let alone in an office that smelt like old eggs.
As fast as the deadline approached, the days were conversely crawling by, the wait exacerbated by how much he missed Sam. It was strange to think about someone every day but not be able to talk to them, not know if they hated you or were even thinking about you too. So Jeremy tried not to think about him.
Eventually, the day of the rally dawned and he was up at seven am, adding the final touches to the eat shit or die plan, hoping today wasn’t about dying. But he had a huge spoon and was ready to shovel in as much shit as he could. He met Liz and Anna for coffee, then the PopBuzz team to finalise the coverage of the day, and then he and his friends hit the street, heading to the square beside the town hall, where Sam’s rally would be taking place. He was nervous, he was excited, but most of all he was tired. The dice were about to stop tumbling, and he didn’t know if he wanted them to.
As they got closer, Jeremy started to see other people clearly headed to the march too, with climate shirts and megaphones and placards.
‘Shit … I forgot something,’ Jeremy said, stopping Liz and Anna. ‘I’ll catch you up.’
An hour later, Jeremy stood in the crowd, a huge placard resting against his shoulder. The gang, including a bunch of his PopBuzz team, were at the square, and Jeremy was anxiously loitering close to the stage, trying to catch a glimpse of Sam among the buzzing swarm of organisers and volunteers, when he caught sight of Patsie chatting to an annoyed-looking police sergeant. He pushed his way through the crowd, trying to get close enough to say hello to her.
‘Look, you’re going to have to delay everything by another half hour,’ the police sergeant drawled, shaking his head.
‘We have a schedule,’ answered Patricia politely.
‘Yeah, well, you told us you were expecting hundreds,’ the sergeant said. ‘I’m going to have to call in some backup. It’s just public safety.’
Jeremy looked at where the sergeant was gesturing and felt his heart stop. The streets around the town hall were a seething mass of people and placards, and he could see more in the distance, pushing their way in. There were thousands of people, this protest already bigger than some Jeremy had joined around the bushfires a few years earlier.
‘Holy crap,’ he breathed. He was so happy for Sam, thrilled for him. But he felt proud of himself too – he’d worked incredibly hard over the last couple of weeks, and it felt good to know it had led to this spectacular turnout. It also felt good to do something objectively good for the world. Sure, he’d done it as part of a grand romantic gesture rather than pure altruism, but as the old saying went, it was about the destination not the journey.
‘Ah yeah, sure, we can … we can delay,’ he heard Patsie say, before she ran off in the opposite direction, her phone already held up to her ear.
The people continued piling in, the back of the crowd stretching out of Jeremy’s view. He could see movement and frantic organisation happening behind and around the stage. He caught sight of a pop star named Apricot XPX puffing on a vape and nodding coolly as Patsie handed her a matcha – it had been Sarah-Jessica’s idea to reach out to the star after interviewing her for PopBuzz. Apricot XPX was massive on TikTok, and very outspoken on social issues. Jeremy also watched as a local politician tried to bring some corflutes for his own party on stage with him.
Suddenly, it all began, the crowd now streaming through the roadblocks and around the town hall, stretching down both sides of the street. Her voice booming over the speaker, an Indigenous elder welcomed them to Country, talking about the effect of colonisation on the land and how the traditional custodians had cared for it for tens of thousands of years. The leader of the Greens stood up, talking about the hope she felt at the sight of all these people, and the work they needed to do. She managed to make it sound like their party was responsible for the rally, which Jeremy bristled about on Sam’s behalf.
Apricot got up to speak before she sang a song, looking beautiful and effortlessly cool. She also spoke about what the protest and this rally meant for her.
‘It’s easy to get cynical,’ she admitted. ‘It’s easy to assume the worst – about what’s happening to our planet, about people, about our lives. But seeing everyone here makes me feel like if we work hard, we can overcome this together, use our numbers to stop companies and individuals who are determined to profit from destruction, to force our governments to work for the future, and to make amazing things happen. It’s easy to be alone and scared and pessimistic. It’s harder to believe in other people, believe in change, believe in happiness.’
After she sang, she gestured to someone offstage, and, with an almost painful beat of his heart, Jeremy recognised Sam, standing quietly to the side, looking handsome and perfect. Sam waved his hands in front of his face bashfully, and then kind of half stepped out. Part of the plan had involved telling Apricot all about him.
‘I want to thank my friend Sam,’ Apricot said, ‘who organised this whole event, and who I’m told rarely gets the credit he deserves. Let’s all thank Sam.’ The crowd didn’t really change the tone and volume of its applause, but Jeremy watched proudly as Sam managed an embarrassed little wave.
Jeremy was standing at the front, staring intently up at the stage, separated by a crowd barrier and a couple of security guards. He was far enough away that he could only just make out Sam’s face, but he felt a wash of panicked warmth when he realised Sam was looking down into the crowd directly at him. He could tell they were making eye contact – thank god Jeremy was so stupidly tall.
He took a deep breath, and raised his placard up high and made sure Sam could see it.
It was a crudely but colourfully drawn picture of a world on fire. Above it, it just said: I’m sorry.
Jeremy saw Sam looking at the sign, and he pointed up at it, and yelled, ‘I’m really sorry.’ The crowd was so loud – he knew Sam couldn’t hear him – but around him his friends and the PopBuzz team had created a little island of silence. He could feel them all waiting to see Sam’s response.
