with her.
"Who said that there's a man?" I asked.
"Well, did you finally turn lesbian so we could run off and adopt a lot of adorable children together?" she asked.
I almost snorted my drink through my nose.
"Wait, when did you turn lesbian?" I asked. "You love men. You love Neil."
"I would make an exception to adopt adorable babies with you, obviously," she said.
"Obviously," I replied, rolling my eyes. "The fact that you're already pregnant with an adorable
baby is a total non-issue, right?"
Sarah waved her hand impatiently. "Total. Besides, it could be ugly. We don’t know that yet."
"Seriously, I'm not going to tell you who, but yes, I have met someone," I said.
She rolled her eyes right back.
"You and your discretion, you are no fun," she said.
"Yes, me and my professional workplace behavior," I said, "The government hates that."
"Want to go out?" she asked.
"I already have my purse," I said, shutting my monitor off and standing up.
Sarah held the door open for me. "Let me tell you about what the government likes."
We walked to a local coffee shop, her telling me about how the woman working at the D.M.V. had sworn at her the weekend before.
"I'm telling you," she said, as we walked through the door, "I missed my calling. I want to be able to cuss at clients and not do my job. Maybe someday, if I'm very, very good, I'll die and come back to life as a D.M.V. employee."
I was still laughing as I ordered my coffee and soup.
"Drinking your lunch, I see," she said, as we claimed a table. "Good call, day drinking is the one major perk all government employees share."
"I don't drink on the job, you know that," I said.
"Yes, yes," she said, rolling her eyes, "You are discreet and professional. You know I know that, honey. If I wanted to go to lunch with someone who actually drank on the job, I'd make Herman take me out. I have to buy my own lunch when I go with you."
"You don't really think that Herman drinks on the job, do you?" I asked.
She shrugged.
"I bet the old coot has a bottle of Jack or Jim in his desk, but I don't think he drinks it except for show, with his buddies. He's too smart to get drunk," she said.
"I wouldn't know," I reminded her.
"Yeah, we had a lot of turnover for a while," she said. "He has vowed never again to learn anyone's name unless they make it a full three years. Don't take it personally, he's just an ass."
"He'll have to learn my name pretty soon," I said.
"He sure will, sweetheart," she said, and rolled her eyes again. "Pretty sure that he thinks we're all interchangeable peons, anyways," she said.
I picked up my coffee and took a quick sip. "Not you, right? He loves you. He knows your name, at least."