11
We make it to my desk. I set my laptop bag down, then turn back to Macy.
“You could have at least told me he texted you after the wedding,” she says.
I wince. “Sorry, it’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s just, I didn’t know if anything was actually going to happen, so I didn’t want to make things awkward.”
“Are you kidding?” She shoots me a look of disbelief. “Scott was a total rollercoaster after seeing you at the wedding. He was so happy to run into you, then he was disappointed when he heard you’d left early, then he was happy again when I told him you were single, and even happier when I gave him your number. I knew he texted you! I should have pushed you more to tell me!”
I smile, a familiar warmth filling my chest. “He wasn’t the only rollercoaster.”
“So? What happened? You went out Friday night? How many times have you gone out already?”
I blink at her as I think. “Um… four times, I guess, if you count walking around Party City.”
Her jaw drops as her voice rises. “Four dates already and I’m just now hearing about this?”
I raise my hands and shush her as I laugh. “I’m sorry, I promise I’ll never keep another secret from you again.”
“That’s a flat out lie, and you know it,” Macy smirks.
I grin in response, and her frosty look turns to a smile.
“Scott said you guys used to work together at The Roast.”
I nod. “Yeah, right after we’d both graduated high school. We worked together for a year. I had a huge crush on him. We were supposed to meet up once he’d gotten back from his internship thing with your family friend, but I sort of stood him up…” I wince as I finish the story.
“What?” Macy’s brow furrows. “Why did you do that?”
“I thought for sure he’d have forgotten, or been busy, or still be with his girlfriend, or… I don’t know… it just felt embarrassing, and I’d just been hired here and had to stay late for work that day anyway.”
“I can’t believe this. If I had just told you who my brother was or showed you a picture, you two could have already been married by now.” Her eyes widen with glee. “Oh my gosh, Lucy, we could be sisters!”
“Woah, Macy! Slow down!” I wave my hands at her, trying to bring her back to reality. “Scott and I just started going out. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. Please. I’m already nervous enough about all this.”
I won’t lie though, my mind has wandered there a few times. What can I say? I’m a woman. I can’t help it.
Macy grins. “You don’t need to be nervous. He really likes you.”
My cheeks heat as my heart jumps. “You think so?”
“I know so,” she nods. “He kept calling me Friday afternoon and asking me all sorts of questions about what you like, and he’s been in the best mood I’ve ever seen him in the entirety of the last two weeks.”
I smile so wide my cheeks hurt. “I really like him, too.”
The door to the office opens and we both glance over to the the empty receptionist desk. Macy gives me a quick hug and an excited look as she heads back to the front. I sigh and settle in my office chair, swiveling around. The weekend felt like a fairytale, but my cubicle brings me back down to reality. Actually, “brings” might be too soft a word. It’s more like it slams me back down to reality with all the force of a WWE Superstar. And this time, there are no McDonald’s hash browns to ease my pain.
“Morning, Jeremiah,” I hear Macy say as she buzzes him in.
He’s a little late today. I wonder if he’s still mad at me. I roll my chair to the edge of my cubicle and peek out to see him walking towards me. When he sees me, his eyes widen as he slows his pace, then stops.
“Morning,” I say, giving him a little wave and a smile.
“Yeah, morning,” he says, shifting his weight. We descend into awkward silence.
“So…” I start to speak, fidgeting with a pen in my hands. “Have a good weekend?”
“It was alright.”
“That’s… good.”
“How about you?”
I nod. “Mine was good.”
Silence falls again. After a few seconds, I sit up. “I guess I’ll let you get to work then,” I say, reaching to pull out my laptop.
“Lucy…”
I turn back to him, giving him my full attention. “Yeah?”
He frowns as my eyes meet his, then he looks away. “I’m sorry for blowing up at you on Friday.”
A wave of relief flows through me. Jeremiah is one of my best friends. I had no idea what I did to make him so upset with me, but I’m glad things won’t stay that way.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say smiling. “It happens.”
He looks at me like he can’t believe what I’m saying. “You’re not mad at me?”
I shrug. “I was at first, but then I figured you must have had a reason to be upset. We’ve been friends for four years now, and you don’t ever snap at me like that. You get annoyed with me pretty often,” I add, grinning, "but you don’t snap.”
He lets out a sharp breath and smiles. “Cool.”
“Is everything okay, though?” I ask. “You’ve been on edge the past couple of weeks. Have I been bugging you for too much help?”
“No. It’s nothing, really.”
“If you're sure…” I cock my head, not buying it. “Hey, wanna get lunch today? I still owe you for the help with Macy’s wedding.”
He noticeably perks up. “Yeah, that’d be great.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then.”
Jeremiah heads for his desk as I open my laptop. I take a look at my to do list and go through the early morning emails from Monica. Mondays are always busy, and I’ve got a long list of tasks plus an online meeting to attend tonight.
It’s going to be a long day.
I received a few responses over the weekend to other emails I’d sent out, and a few new emails that I forward to Monica for instructions on how to respond. She’s left a few checks for me to deposit, as well as some things I need to mail out. I glance at the clock, then back at her office. She’s usually in by now.
A quick look at the calendar reminds me I’d purchased a plane ticket for her to fly out this morning and come back to town Thursday, which means this week might be fairly quiet. That also means I’ll need to drive by her house to check for packages on her porch.
Guess I’ll start with making notes on Friday evening’s meeting.
I login to the online meeting software we use and go to past meetings, finding Friday’s at the top of the list. But, as I hover my mouse over it, my heart sinks.
It didn’t record.
I feel sick to my stomach as I double, then triple, then quadruple check that there’s no recording. I sigh, rubbing my face in my hands.
I hate making stupid mistakes like this. But sitting here freaking out does nothing. I pull out my phone to text Monica. Usually, I provide a solution when I’ve made a mistake, but this time, there’s nothing I can do. I can’t make notes for a meeting I didn’t attend. All I can do is be honest and own up to it.
I shoot Monica a text, explaining my mistake.
Me: Hi, I’m sorry, I messed up. I didn’t set the meeting to record Friday evening so I am unable to make notes from it.
I stare at my phone for a minute, then lean my head back on my head rest, waiting for her response. I’ve learned to be as straightforward and to the point as I can be when I mess up.
The minutes pass. She might still be in flight, though she should have landed by now. I set my phone down on my desk and resume my other tasks, my morale low. Another minute passes, then my phone starts to buzz. I take a breath, my heart pounding a little harder. I feel the familiar prickle of nervous sweat forming as I answer.
“Hi, Monica.”
“Hi.” Her tone is brisk. “The meeting didn’t record Friday?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
“We discussed several marketing projects. I needed the notes from that meeting. Do you have a solution?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, mentally berating myself. “I can reach out to everyone who attended and ask for copies of any notes they took. Using those and the basic outline of the meeting you gave me ahead of time, I think I can compile a fairly comprehensive summary of the meeting and projects discussed.”
“That’s going to slow down productivity from everyone involved in the meeting. They’ll have to take time away from their work to get their notes together and send them to you.”
She’s right.
“But, go ahead,” she continues. “And, once you’re finished, please send the notes to me and everyone else who attended.”
“I will.” I make a note in my notebook as I speak. “I’ll have them to you before the end of the day. And, this won’t happen again.”
“I need you to attend these meetings in person. I’ll send you the dates I’d like to have them, so please add them to my calendar and clear your schedule accordingly.”
“Right, will do.” Monica usually doesn’t plan meetings so far in advance, but I guess me missing the last one changed things. Or maybe it’s that I’ve been less flexible lately.
“Alright. Can you pick my daughter up from school this week and drop her off at her grandmother’s house? You’ll need to do that until I get back Thursday. And, some plans changed and I need you to drive her to school as well. She’ll need to get there by eight fifteen.”
“Okay,” I nod, making another note. I like Monica’s daughter. She’s sweet. But I don’t like mornings. I’ll have to remember to set my alarm for earlier than usual this week. If she’s staying at her grandmother’s house, she’s on the other side of town, so I’ll need to…
“I’ll be in touch,” Monica says.
“Right. Bye.”
I hang up the phone, taking another deep breath, then I get back to work.
A lot of people misunderstand Monica. She’s intense, and busy, and has a lot on her plate. That means my job is intense and busy, and a lot of things on her plate are shoved to mine. But that’s the nature of my job. I take more menial tasks off Monica’s load so she can focus on more important, big picture things. She’s running this whole company, after all.
Monica is a good boss. Whenever I make mistakes, so long as I’m honest and take responsibility, she lets it go. For instance, my first year working for her, I nearly made a mistake that would have cost her $2000. Two-thousand dollars. That’s worth more than me, for crying out loud. When I told her what happened, she calmly suggested a solution, which I followed, and avoided the $2000 charge.
I have learned quite a bit working for her. Though, they aren’t the things people expected me to learn—I’ve learned things like how not to freak out in stressful situations, that I can figure out anything if I work at it long enough, and etc. Those sorts of things. I’ve been stretched doing things I have no idea how to do, and pushed so far outside of my comfort zone I can’t even see it anymore. My confidence has absolutely increased in certain contexts.
But, in some ways, my life is Monica’s life. What I mean is, my life revolves around hers. That makes it difficult to have a life of my own. I never minded much before, but the more time I spend with Scott… well, the things I used to say to convince myself I’m fine with how things are haven’t been working as well as before. Is this job really what I want to do for the rest of my life? But even if it isn’t… what else would I do?
A familiar fear is creeping up on me, one I usually ignore, and I don’t want to deal with it now.
I shake my head, ignoring and tamping down on my emotions.
Get a grip, Lucille. Buckle down and get to work.
Jeremiah arrives at my desk promptly at noon.
The spiraling thoughts I’d tried unsuccessfully to bury are still stealing much of my focus, but I do my best to smile up at him.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Mhm,” I nod as I stand. “Let’s go.”
“I’ll drive.”
Macy watches us walk out the front door, giving me a weird look.
“What?” I ask. “Did you want an invite, too?”
Macy shakes her head. “No, but…” her eyes flick from me to Jeremiah, who looks on edge for some reason. “Um… never mind.”
I furrow my brow, staring back at her.
“I’ll just talk to you later,” she says, waving me away.
“Let’s go, we’re wasting our lunch hour, and it’ll be busy,” Jeremiah says.
I give Macy one last look, then turn back to the door. “Okay.”
We end up at the new burger joint Jeremiah had mentioned to me on Friday. It’s absolutely adorable inside, with a whole 50’s vibe going on, complete with the checkered tile floors, neon lighting, bright red sparkly stools, a juke box, and tall glasses for milkshakes with cherries on top.
Basically, it’s my version of heaven. I really want to bring Scott here.
The thought makes me pause, a small smile breaking out on my face. He’d love it here, too.
“What are you smiling about?”
I turn to Jeremiah, who’s watching me. “I love this place! It’s so cute; it’s like a diner was teleported here from the fifties. Actually, I think I want to live here.”
He shrugs. “It’s cool, I guess.”
Well, he’s definitely back to his usual self.
I sigh. “Come on, let’s go order, Oscar.”
He shoots me a confused look. “Oscar?”
“You know,” I say, staring up at the menu. “The Grouch.”
“Oscar the—” He stops and glares at me. “Hey, at least I don’t live in a literal trash can.”
I grin. “That’s true. Although, with how messy you are, you might as well.”
He snorts and shakes his head, but can’t hide the half smile tugging his lips upward.
We order our food and grab seats at the bar since most of the booths are full.
“This place is packed,” I say, looking around.
“Yeah,” he nods, shifting in his seat. “Heard you apologizing to Monica on the phone today. Something happen?”
“Oh…” I frown, resting my elbow on the bar in front of us. “Yeah. I was supposed to set one of her online meetings to record and make detailed notes from it, but I messed up and it never recorded.”
“That sucks,” he says.
I nod, falling silent as my mind turns once again to my completely unnecessary but very real existential crisis I’d spent the entire morning having.
“What’s wrong?”
I snap back to the present to see Jeremiah watching me. “Nothing, it’s just… Do you like your job?”
A waiter slides our food in front of us. Jeremiah picks up a fry, takes a bite, and shrugs one shoulder. “Not really.”
“So… what is it you want to do with your life, then?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you don’t like your job, what career do you want in the future?”
He stares at me like I’m speaking a foreign language. “I’m an accountant.”
I scowl, grabbing my burger and taking a bite. “Oh, never mind.”
“What’s going on with you?” he asks.
I swallow my mouthful of food, then set my burger back down. “Lately I’ve been thinking… maybe I don’t want to be Monica’s assistant anymore.”
“What? Why? What else would you do?”
I still, then sigh. “I don’t know.”
“Exactly.” He takes a massive bite of his burger, then digs back into his fries. “Everybody hates their job. That’s just how it is. You do it to make money, not to feel good.”
“You don’t think you should do something that has… I don’t know… meaning? Something that’s personally fulfilling?”
“What? You think being an accountant or Monica’s assistant is meaningless? There’s no value to it?”
“That’s not what I mean at all,” I shake my head, then let out a frustrated sigh. “It’s just that sometimes… Sometimes I’m afraid there’s something wrong with me. I’m afraid that maybe… maybe there’s nothing special I’m meant to do. Maybe I’ll always just be me. Plain, boring, average Lucy, who hates rollercoasters and has seen all ten seasons of Friends about eighty times. I guess… I guess sometimes, I just feel trapped in place, in a lifestyle I don’t want to be my forever, with no way out.”
My head feels a little clearer as I say the words, but my heart grows heavier. Jeremiah doesn’t say anything. I turn to him, and he wrinkles his nose.
“Who peed in your drink today?” he asks.
My face heats in embarrassment. I glare at him, then turn my attention back to my food. “I don’t know why I bother talking to you. You’re the worst.” I slam down some fries and sip my drink, no longer wanting to be here with Jeremiah. I see him watching me from my peripherals, but ignore him.
“You’re just having a bad day.”
I glance over.
“It’s just a bad day,” he repeats. “You made a mistake, so you’re down on yourself. You’ll feel better tomorrow. Nobody’s a better PA than you. It’s like you were born to be Monica’s assistant.”
The comment chills my insides and makes me feel infinitely worse, but I try not to show it.
“Besides,” he continues, “you’re crazy lucky to get to work directly for Monica like that. Everyone knows who Monica Harper is. It’s a huge opportunity. Tons of people would happily take your job. Don’t start thinking about throwing it all away because of one bad day.”
I stare down at my fries, trying to hide my frown. It’s not just because of one bad day. It’s because of my everyday.
When I first accepted Monica’s job offer, I was thinking the same things everyone else is always saying—that it’s a fantastic opportunity and will surely lead to further opportunities, that working as Monica’s direct assistant will teach me so much, afford me insight into her thinking and how she does things, and that it will all help me grow. But, I was wrong. I spend my days getting coffee and lunch, returning Amazon orders, picking up prescriptions, taking her daughter to sports games forty-five minutes away, picking up packages off her porch, running to the store to try to find those portable smoothie blender things that are impossible to find for some ridiculous reason, and all manner of random errands aside from my regular office work. And I get it, that’s the job. I thought that’s how it would start, but that by now I’d have found another opportunity, or my job might have grown, or position may have changed when I proved my work ethic and reliability. But it’s been four years now, and the only thing that’s changed is me.
And, to be honest, I’m not sure how I’ve changed is for the better.
I don’t like to think about it. It scares me.
Jeremiah is still staring at me, waiting for a response. I swallow down my emotions and inner conflict. No one ever seems to understand, no matter what I say. They see Monica Harper, and that’s all they see; there’s no room for my feelings in the face of such a “great opportunity.” I’m “Monica’s girl,” right? Not even Lucy. Just Monica’s girl.
So, like I always do when this topic comes up, I force a smile.
“You’re right. Thanks.”
“No problem,” he says, returning to his food, clearly satisfied with his effort. “So, what’d you do over the weekend?”
I take a breath, picking up another fry as the dark cloud hovering in my insides fades. Turning my thoughts back to Scott warms me, lightening the heavy mood our prior topic of conversation had put me in. “Actually,” I say, squirming in my chair a bit, “I went on a couple of dates.”
Jeremiah freezes. “What?”
“I said I went on a couple of dates.”
“With who?” he snaps.
I straighten in my seat, taken aback. “Hey, why are you so—”
“Who did you go out with?”