Chapter 33
33
M ACKENZIE
“It looks great on you,” Kayla says, beaming with a smile. “Girl, you’re ready to start a new chapter in your life,” she adds, her eyes moving over my skirt suit.
I so didn’t want to wear a skirt suit at my job interview.
First off, despite all the positive signs, including Mrs. Goodman’s verbal encouragement, I’m not sure I’ll get this job.
And I so don’t want to jinx it by walking into the hiring manager’s office wearing heels, a pencil skirt, and a fitted jacket.
What if the person I’ll be doing the job interview with––which is not Mrs. Goodman––dislikes my outfit?
What if the CEO I’m supposed to work for has a jealous wife and doesn’t need the snarky remarks of their spouse triggered by a sexy secretary?
But Kayla insisted.
She said it would boost my confidence and kill my insecurities.
I don’t know about that.
I mean, the suit looks good on me. I bought it yesterday after scouring a few stores in Manhattan and conversing with Kayla during her lunch break.
I wanted her opinion. I tried it out for her.
She said, ‘Yes, yes. Do it, girl.’
So now I’m doing it.
She was kind enough to come to my place this morning, help me get ready, and share a cab with me afterward.
I didn’t say no to her, so here she is, dressed for work, giving me her opinion on my outfit.
Her help is much appreciated as my mind is all over the place.
The last few days have been tense for me.
All this time, I haven’t heard from Callan.
After my neighbors and their friends had gotten picked up by the police, the building turned quiet.
It took me a while to get settled, not to fear every little noise, not to watch every car crawling down the street, and not to envision myself joining that group of people.
I don’t know what that was all about, but seeing them being dragged away by the cops sent a shudder of horror through my bones.
Honestly, I’ve never been more frightened in my life.
But then, things got back to normal, and I felt more confident about my fate.
Unfortunately, things haven’t been easy when it comes to Callan. After not hearing from him, I started to fear for him.
What if he’d been picked up as well?
I tried not to freak out, and although it was difficult to get back into my routine, I slept well that night and didn’t think about it.
It’s been several days since that day, and now, I’m more freaked out than ever.
Mrs. Goodman called the following day and said that the job interview had been postponed.
My first feeling was that she wasn’t entirely truthful.
She seemed like a nice lady, but some things weren’t in her control. Maybe they wanted to interview someone else, and if that person didn’t work out, then they’d call me for a second interview.
Strange scenarios spun in my mind, and I had to trust her that the interview was still on, but frankly, I couldn’t.
She couldn’t give a new date right away, which only fueled my distrust with the process.
That wasn’t the only thing keeping me up at night, and I wanted to do something about my anxiety, so I tried not to fret over Callan not contacting me anymore.
It’s not like he had contacted me before, right?
We never exchanged phone numbers, and most of our interactions seemed random and connected to my neighbors’ shady business dealings upstairs.
Now that they’d been gone, maybe he didn’t see a reason to get in touch with me again.
But that didn’t sit well with me.
Not after spending that last night with him.
Not after feeling the things I’d felt for him.
Something didn’t look right to me.
And, of course, considering that I was still feeding on that chemical connection to him, my mind started to spin a lot of self-doubt.
I hated that, and despite knowing what it was and who I was, I still couldn’t escape its clutches.
I was a woman profoundly affected by him, still feeding on the memories of him and experiencing pain and distrust––my old friend––because of that.
I so wanted to talk to him, and I was ready for some bad news, like, for instance, that we were done.
We had a good time and all that, but things didn’t work in real life.
I was ready for anything.
The following day, I squealed under the weight of uncertainty.
I felt trapped in silence with a job interview that couldn’t materialize, a lack of focus that messed with my life, and absolutely no answers.
Luckily, Mrs. Goodman called again and gave me some good news.
She forwarded me the new date and seemed optimistic about my chances of getting this job.At that point, she felt like a mother to me.
The one I never had.
Relief washed over me, and suddenly energized, I called Kayla and told her the good news.
And then I went out shopping.
Even stranger than Callan’s inexplicable absence was not seeing his men––if, in fact, they were still watching me.
I started to doubt that.
And if that wasn’t only a skewed impression, and it was the truth, in fact, the entire story must’ve taken a turn for the worse––I thought.
That couldn’t have been a good sign.
So, after shopping in a rush and bringing what I’d purchased home, I pondered a little more and left everything unpacked before changing my clothes and heading outside.
It wasn’t that late, a flicker of daylight still lingering around.
With stark determination, I checked every spot in the area.
The building where I’d seen them a while back, and then, the park where so much happened.
I was hoping to see one of his men follow me, making sure I was all right.
I was anxious to get some answers.But I couldn’t find Callan’s men.
No one was following me.
No one cared whether I was there, putting myself in harm’s way, or I was safe back home.
And that’s when my trust in our story fell apart.
I wandered aimlessly for a little longer before returning to my building.
By then, it was dark outside, and the streetlights barely sprung up to life.
I ran into the super in front of the building and pretended I was waiting for my friend.
He was quick to inform me the apartment upstairs had been vacated and would be leased again.
I played stupid and asked about Carmen. He said Carmen and her husband had a family emergency and broke the lease.
I listened to him, amazed at how unaware he seemed to be that people, like me, had witnessed their departure.
That aside, I didn’t argue, only nodded.
He said the apartment would be on the market as soon as it got renovated.
I didn’t ask any questions.
I found it strange as it was, so I nodded some more, and because I didn’t want to walk upstairs with him and hear more of that stuff, I pulled away, telling him that my friend must be down the block and I’d go to meet her.
That’s how I started to walk away from my building.
The night was cold and unfriendly, and I wanted to find solace in just about anything.
I wanted to go back and not wander on the streets anymore, but it wasn’t in the cards for me.
I kept going until I reached Beverly’s building.
I found it so interesting that she’d lived so close to where I lived.
Like a putz, I looked up at the windows––I didn’t know if hers overlooked the street––and frankly, I hoped for a miracle.
A lot of ‘miracles’ have happened in the past.
I ran into him.
I talked to her more than once.
I even talked to him when he was at her place.
I felt strange and queasy about stalking that woman.
Even so, I pulled my phone out and called her number.
Her phone was disconnected.
What about that?
It felt like my legs had turned into rubber, and I was about to fall.
That little detail made my confidence crumble.
He was gone.
And she disconnected her phone.
I felt like I was the victim of con artists, and how far was I from the truth?
I was standing in front of her building like a stupid little girl who couldn’t find her way home.
A few minutes had passed before a man living there stopped in front of the entrance, ready to go in, and glanced in my direction.
He asked me if I needed any help, and I swallowed hard and made up a story.
I was supposed to meet Beverly, but she hadn’t answered my calls. I was worried about her. That sort of crap.
He looked at me with suspicion and then told me she no longer lived there.
My heart sunk, and despair gnawed at my edges.
Regardless of how illogical my reaction was, I couldn’t not think that maybe things weren’t coincidental.
He vanished.Became a ghost. And she moved away.
His men were no longer in front of my building or the area.
My neighbors got arrested.
Where did I fit in that story?
I asked the man if he knew where she had moved, and he gave me a chiding look before entering the building without a word.
I was lost and cold as hell as if the entire Arctic ice cap had melted over me.
Hugging myself, I stood on the sidewalk, not knowing where to go and what to do. All that interest with which Callan had surrounded me was permanently gone.
Anyway,I got home eventually, but my life has never been the same.
I lost my peace of mind and sleep. I couldn’t eat.
Somehow, I managed to go through the motions and wait patiently for the job interview.
I knew I needed this job and couldn’t screw it.
So, for now, I’m bottling up my emotions and going with the flow.
All these days, I haven’t expected him to show up and offer an explanation, and he surely hasn’t disappointed.
So here I am.
“So you think I look good,” I say, unease spinning in my chest as I glance in the mirror.
My nervousness doesn’t register with Kayla.
If it does, she might think I’m jittery because of my job interview.
But I see way more than an outfit in the mirror.
My cheeks are hollow, and my eyes burn.
They’ve been burning since he left with atoxic mix of longing and fury.
“Good,” I say, pivoting to the chair and taking inventory of my things––my briefcase, my purse, and my coat.
I put my coat on and Kayla drapes hers on her shoulders before collecting her bag.
Minutes later, we’re in front of my building, waiting for our cab. A merciless wind makes my skin prickle and my eyes water.
Kayla does a double take.
“Damn, you look good, girl. And also sad for some reason,” she continues just as the car comes to a stop in front of us.
We occupy the back seats when the driver steers the car away.
‘Sad for some reason’.
Her words ring in my head as the buildings rush past us.
I am sad.
It’s like moving away from a story that has never reached its ending.Has he ghosted me?
It wouldn’t make much sense, would it?
But what else could it be?