A few years later, my marriage ended. I came to lunch that week barely speaking, staring at my food without eating much of it.
Charles didn't ask questions. He just talked about ordinary things, gave me something to listen to instead of my own thoughts, and let the silence between us be comfortable instead of empty.
Charles didn't ask questions.
Then, the year after that, my mother passed away.
I came back to work three days later because I didn't know what else to do with myself.
I'd forgotten to pack lunch. I sat down across from Charles, realized I had nothing, and just stared at the table.
Without a word, he tore his sandwich in half and pushed it toward me.
"Eat something. You'll feel worse if you don't."
I did.
I'd forgotten to pack lunch.
And for the first time since the funeral, I cried in front of someone who wasn't family.
He didn't try to fix it. He just sat there, letting me, as if that was enough.
And it was.
***
One Monday, Charles didn't come in.
I noticed right away. Eleven years of noon lunches will do that.
I cried in front of someone who wasn't family.
I told myself he was probably sick, that I'd see him Tuesday, that everything was fine.
Tuesday came and went.
Wednesday too.
On Thursday, my manager mentioned it almost as an afterthought, the way people mention things that don't feel like they belong to them.
"Oh, did you hear about the janitor? Charles, I think that was his name. Passed away over the weekend. Heart attack, I guess."
I told myself he was probably sick.
I sat there for a moment, not understanding the sentence even though every word in it was simple.
"Charles? Our Charles?"
"I guess so," she told me, already turning back to her screen.
I went to the bathroom and sat in a stall for ten minutes before I could breathe normally again. When I came out, the break room was the same as always.
Loud. Full. Nobody at our table.
The break room was the same as always.
***
The funeral was held on a Saturday at a small chapel across town.
I went alone.
I checked quietly if anyone else from the office was planning to attend.
A few strangers offered the kind of sympathetic head-tilt people give when they want to seem like they care without actually doing anything.
