Token

To say that David woke up with a hangover would be too much. Well, unless we're talking about a moral hangover, because this one he had like from here to the moon and back. He regretted not getting more drunk, because then maybe he wouldn't remember the embarrassing events of last night.

Completely depressed, he reached for his smartphone and saw eleven missed calls from Philip. He received only one text message from him, but a very meaningful one: "Are you alive?"

David groaned. He leaned against the wall. It was getting to ten o'clock, but it was Saturday and he didn't have any work, so he could sleep longer. The anxious text message from Philip, however, was something he couldn't ignore.

"David?" Philip answered as quickly as if he were sitting with the phone in his hand.

"Yes, it's me. I'm alive," he murmured.

"Thank God! Do you have any idea what kind of commotion you caused yesterday? It was Meiden who picked you up, right?"

"Yes, Meiden, but... what commotion?" David had the worst possible feeling.

"I don't know how to tell you this, but people started gossiping about a love triangle with three men and you as one of them..."

David cursed pointedly. After that scene yesterday, he might have expected it.

"And to think that I am the most innocent..."

"It won't be so bad. I asked some of the guys to make a little correction. You weren't rescued by a jealous billionaire lover but by a new neighbor you don't like, by the way. So it really should be ok, just..."

"Just..."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I didn't say that," he replied matter-of-factly. "Meiden pissed me off beyond belief. What did he think I couldn't handle some retard?"

"So that boy over there really...?"

"No," David replied in exasperation. "He got a little carried away, but it was nothing serious. I would have handled everything quietly without a problem, but that Meiden must have spoiled everything. How he actually got there I don't know, but if people are talking about me now, it's because of that idiot."

"I'm sorry. It's my fault..."

"Not yours," he sighed. "You didn't force me to do anything. You gave me a suggestion and I took it. I acted thoughtlessly and it came out as it did. Fortunately, I will never meet that boy again because I doubt he will show up at our disco again."

"Hm, you're probably right. What about Meiden?"

"What about him?" David suddenly felt himself tense up.

"Apparently he acted like a jealous lover. I didn't want to ask about it, but it was him, wasn't it? Was it because of him that these thoughts came to you?"

David considered for a moment whether he should lie to his cousin or tell the truth. However, he came to the conclusion that he trusted no one as much as he did him, so who else could he confide in about his problems and seek support? After all, it was to him that he ran when he began to suspect he was gay.

"It was really a coincidence," he confessed. "Neither of us planned it, and neither of us plans to repeat it." Admittedly, David could only speak for himself, but he doubted the Norwegian had any erotic intentions toward him.

"But yesterday..."

Well, yesterday Meiden acted totally out of character. Usually cold, composed, almost devoid of any emotion except hostility... Wait, wait, after all, that's exactly what he was yesterday, only with the addition of his fists.

"I think he might have just wanted to save me. You know, to help. He didn't know that I had everything under control. I think any decent guy in that situation would have moved to help."

Well, that's right, he realized. From the sidelines, his conversation with Greg must indeed have looked like a kind of assault. If he himself had seen how the girl's forearm was held by the boy, how she wanted to leave and he wouldn't let her, how they exchanged tense words with each other, he himself would have rushed to her aid. Only, he would not hit the man so immediately and would try to convince him to let the girl go. Meiden reacted more aggressively, but perhaps he saw the situation as a greater threat than actually existed? After all, he didn't know David's capabilities. He didn't know his ability to defend himself. He wanted to save him from danger. Did that mean he cared at least a little about him... as an employee?

"Maybe you're right. You won't have a problem continuing to work with him?"

"Not likely. I just don't know if he would want to have an employee like me."

He almost confessed to Philip what ugly words Meiden had used towards him, but he was ashamed. For himself and for Meiden. It would be best to forget yesterday's conversation or just pretend he didn't remember it. After all, he cared about the job and yesterday he too had said some unpleasant words to Meiden. If the Norwegian fires him after yesterday, his father will probably be furious.

David suddenly realized how dependent his life was on Meiden. If he were self-sufficient and lived far from his parents, he could quit this job and completely forget about the Norwegian and his consistently bizarre behavior. In the case where he formed one family unit with his parents, he also had to think about them and his father's company, and could not afford to lose this job. So he had to forgive and forget and hope that Meiden would do the same.

Yes, forgive and forget. But the Norwegian practically called him a slut. He might as well have referred to him as a free slut. The guy had to grit his teeth sometimes and forgive, but to forgive such words after Meiden did such things to him and didn't even apologize?

David finished talking to Philip and found himself in a bad mood. Even a shower didn't help him cheer up. He tried to tell himself that he liked Meiden as a person, or at least as a boss, but after last night he liked him less than before which means practically not at all anymore. At the very thought that he would have to go to the palace on Monday and work for him, he felt resentment. He knew that hundreds of thousands of people in the world have shitty bosses but he preferred to count himself among the hundreds of thousands who have decent bosses. Unfortunately, at this point he didn't have the luxury of choice. He couldn't change to another job because there was no other job.

"Oh, David, have you had too much to drink?" he was greeted in the kitchen by his mother, who was just making stuffed cabbage rolls.

"No, not so much," he stated, looking into the refrigerator to prepare his breakfast.

"Mr. Meiden found you yesterday?"

"What?" David looked at her surprised.

"He came yesterday saying that there was some misunderstanding between you two and that he wanted to apologize. He mentioned something about cultural differences..."

His mother looked at him with tension, as if she wanted to force an answer with her eyes, what was it that made the rich Norwegian apologize to his employee.

Under her gaze, David felt uncomfortable. He dipped his head into the refrigerator, pretending to look for something to make sandwiches.

"Did he really say that? I don't remember him doing anything that required an apology," he lied and his voice cracked just a little.

"Really?" did he think, or did he hear relief in his mother's voice.

"Yes," he replied falsely lightly. "Maybe that's what the cultural equation is all about, because I really don't recall anything like that."

"Then you must be careful too, David," she admonished him. "It would be better if you didn't say something that in Mr. Meiden's culture could be considered offensive."

And how is he supposed to know what passes for offensive in Mr. Meiden's culture? After all, he's not some eccentric Norwegian billionaire thinking he can grope his employee with impunity and then call him a slut while waving his fists in the direction of some teenager's face.

"I'll try, Mom," he promised.

"That's good. Mr. Meiden left a token of his apology for you. Apparently he destroyed your clothes..."

"Ah, that's the point!" David was glad to find an excuse as to why Meiden might apologize to him. This explanation should reassure his mother. "Remember a week ago I came back in wet, stained clothes? I fell over on the wet grass, but it was Meiden's sudden appearance that surprised me so much. But wait, what token?"

His mother, who was apparently reassured by this explanation, pointed out to him a box lying on the sideboard somewhat roughly B4 in format, B5 high. It was quite large for a token.

"Go on, see what it is," the excited mother instructed.

He had no desire to do so, but under her scorching gaze he decided he had no other choice.