14
“Stephanie,” Jessie says, her eyes wide, “you’re awesome!”
“You just noticed?”
Scott’s jaw is nearly on the floor. Stephanie absolutely decimated us and easily took first place by using some extremely risky shortcut she figured out that let her skip half the course.
She stands up, tossing her controller on the couch and grabbing a wing from the chicken bucket on her way out.
“Who are you?” Scott asks, staring at her.
She smirks. “I’m your worst nightmare, Chicken Man.”
Scott’s brow furrows in confusion, looking as if someone just slapped him in the face without warning. I stifle a laugh.
“Come on, Jessie,” Stephanie says.
“What?” She straightens in her seat. “Why?”
“Because it’d be nice if you let Scott and Lucy spend some time together without you being here telling Scott how much you hate him every two seconds.”
“Oh! Right.” She stands up to follow Stephanie, setting her controller on the coffee table. “Um, by the way, I don’t actually hate you. I just get a little competitive. So… sorry, Scott,” she smiles apologetically.
“You’re good,” he says, still distracted by Stephanie’s comment.
Once they leave, Scott turns to me. “Chicken Man?”
I bust up laughing. His reaction is hilarious, and I can’t help it.
His bewilderment turns to amusement. “You think that’s funny?”
“Heck yes. I am so changing your name to Chicken Man in my phone.”
“Oh really?”
I nod, and Scott attacks me with tickles, sending me into another fit of laughter.
“Stop it! Stop!” I say, out of breath from laughing so much.
He grins, no longer tickling me. I take a breath, giggles still escaping my lips, then turn my head to look at Scott, very aware of his hand on my waist, which is lighting flares in my insides. His face is just above mine, hovering so close. The twinkle of warmth and happiness in his eyes makes me melt into a puddle. Everything about him is just like a dream, a dream I never want to wake up from.
I wonder if he feels the same.
“I love your laugh,” he says softly, his hand trailing up my side.
I stutter, my brain once again struggling to form words. “I sound like Goofy when I laugh.”
His brow furrows. “What?”
“You know,” I say, embarrassed that my lame comment ruined the moment, “like, the one who’s friends with Mickey Mouse?”
He chuckles, then a smile as warm and bright as the sun cracks on his face.
“I didn’t notice. I guess I need to hear it again to make sure.”
“Wha—”
I’m cut off mid sentence as Scott leans over and blows a raspberry on my cheek.
I thought I was laughing hard before, but my complete and utter shock that that really just happened makes me laugh so much it makes my nonexistent abs hurt.
When I finally stop, Scott grins. “You're right. You do kinda sound like Goofy.”
“Hey!” I punch him in the arm. “You’re not supposed to agree!”
He shrugs, then pulls me into a hug against his chest. “I like it. I think it’s really cute.”
Pressed against his chest, I can hear his heart beating, feel the steady rise and fall of his breaths. He’s warm, and solid, and smells like pine needles. I sigh, sinking into his embrace.
He lowers his head, his lips hovering near my ear. “I like everything about you, Lucy.”
My eyes widen, heart pounding so hard I’m sure he can feel it. I squeeze him a little tighter, and he does the same.
I hope he never lets me go.
“Hey, Lucy, what are you going to wear on Saturday?”
I blink as I glance away from my laptop and up at Macy, who is smiling and leaning back against the wall near my cubicle.
“Saturday? What’s Saturday?” I ask.
Her brow furrows. “Did Scott not tell you?”
At the mention of Scott, my confusion (and interest in this conversation) grows. “Tell me what?”
“It’s his birthday on Saturday, so our family is having a get together in the evening. He was supposed to invite you.”
His birthday?
He never told me his birthday is coming up.
“Oh. Um, he didn’t say anything, but maybe he just forgot…” My heart sinks a little. Does Scott not want me to come? Or maybe he doesn’t want me around his family yet? I mean, we’ve been going out for just under three weeks, and have only been official since Monday, and today’s Thursday, so that’s only really four days of officialness… Maybe he’s not sure he’s ready to introduce me…
Oh my gosh, what if he’s having doubts about me already?
Noticing my expression, Macy swiftly interrupts my spiraling thoughts. “Lucy, don’t worry about it. I swear, that idiot would lose his head if it wasn’t attached to his neck. I’ve been cleaning up messes like this ever since he was born. I’ll talk to him.”
“No,” I shake my head, “don’t. Maybe he doesn’t want me to come. He might have a reason, and I don’t want him to feel obligated to invite me.”
Macy softens in response. “No way. He’s crazy about you, and he wants you there; I promise. I’ll take care of it.”
“Macy, you really don’t have to—”
“I know my brother. Trust me, okay?”
I stare back at her for a few moments, then nod. “Okay…”
She gives me another smile, though I can spot her frustration with Scott behind it, then stomps off to her desk. The front door to the office opens, and I assume she stepped out to call, and possibly yell at, Scott.
A few minutes later, the telltale sound of cars zooming by outside denotes the opening of the door, followed by Macy’s chair making a slight scuffling noise as she sits back down at the receptionist desk.
My phone starts buzzing next to me on my desk, and I’m not at all surprised to see that “Chicken Man” is the caller. I bite my lip, nervous to answer. What if he’s only inviting me now because Macy is forcing him?
Only one way to find out, I suppose.
I take a breath as I stand and head for the door, deciding to take the call outside. Macy glances up at me with a pleased look as I pass by, but I’m too busy staring at my phone to respond.
Once outside, I accept the call, lifting the phone to my ear and hugging my arms to myself against the chilly autumn air. I was so worried about what Scott might say that I neglected to bring my coat out with me.
“Hey, Scott.”
“I messed up,” he says, sounding pained.
I let out a breath. “Scott, if you’re not ready for me to meet your family yet, I completely understand. We’ve only been seeing each other for—”
“I want you there, Lucy.”
I stop, his tone making my breath catch.
“Even if no one else comes, I don’t care, as long as you’re there. I want you to come.”
“Okay.”
“I didn’t tell you about it because I know you have to go into the office Saturday nights, and I didn’t know if you’d be able to get the evening off. I didn’t want you to feel bad if you couldn’t come or didn’t want to skip work, so I—”
“I want to come.” This time, it’s my turn to cut him off. “I’ll get the night off.”
He’s silent for a few seconds, and when he speaks, I can hear the smile in his voice. “That would be the best birthday gift ever.”
“Then I’ll be there,” I smile, too. “Um, what time is it at?”
“Dinner is supposed to start at six-ish, but everyone gets there at different times, to be honest,” he says. “Want me to pick you up?”
“That would be perfect,” I say. Then, holding back a laugh, I add, “I hope Macy didn’t yell at you too much.”
“She did, but I deserve it. I never want you to think I don’t want you around.”
As he’s speaking, I notice a car in the parking lot, one that wasn’t there earlier. She must have pulled in as I was stepping out to talk to Scott…
Crap.
“Sorry Scott,” I say, rushing back to the door, “I have to go back to work.”
“Okay. See you, Lucy.”
I hang up and quickly breeze past Macy, who points at Monica’s office, likely meaning she was calling me and I wasn’t here. As I take my seat at my desk, she calls out to me.
“Lucy? Is that you?”
I grab my notebook and head for her office. Once I reach the doorway, I poke my head in.
“I’m here! Sorry, I was taking a call outside.”
“Something wrong?”
“No, it was just a personal call.”
Monica looks up. “I see.”
I step in and take a seat, notebook and pen in hand. “How was your trip?”
“Good. I have a few things for you to do,” she says, straight to the point. This is the biggest misconception people have about my job: Monica and I are not friends. I like her, I very much respect her, she trusts me to a certain degree, but we aren’t buddies. She’s my boss; I’m her employee. At the end of the day, she has to make decisions that are best for her and her business, which means there’s a clear boundary line between us and an understanding that I could be replaced, if necessary. Maybe that’s not true for all personal assistants, but that’s how it’s always been for me.
I like to believe that I’m a valuable employee. I work hard, do my best, and try to avoid creating any unnecessary work or asking excessive questions of Monica. I try to make her life easier. It’s my job. But, I walk a thin line, and I’m about to push it again.
After she lists the tasks she has for me, Monica finishes with instructions for Saturday’s meeting.
“We’ll have fifteen attending this week. Don’t bother getting individual orders this time, just do catering from Gio’s. And, I’d like for you to attend.”
My heart sinks. Attend? I always set up catering for Saturday night meetings; I’ve never attended one.
My mind scrambles. Normally, I would have immediately nodded and made a note to attend, but this time, I hesitate.
Maybe I should just skip Scott’s party and go to the meeting… If it’s for work, he’ll understand. That’s why he never told me in the first place, anyway. And lots of people work holidays and their significant other’s birthdays and etc. It’s just a part of life, right? But…
What about future dates? What if Scott invites me out on a day trip, or plans a fancy dinner, or we get tickets to go to a concert, and Monica asks me to work? What about all the times I’ve already cancelled on family and friends in the past because Monica’s schedule changed last minute?
Do I really want to do that to Scott, too? Do I want to set that precedent in our relationship? And… was it really fair to treat my friends and family that way in the past in the first place? I get that it’s for the sake of my job, but… Is my job really what matters most to me?
No. Scott matters to me. I care about him so much.
I want him to know that.
More than that: I really want to be there.
I straighten in my seat. “Um, I’m sorry, I have some important plans on Saturday evening.”
Monica looks at me. “I didn’t see that on my calendar.”
“I’m sorry, it came up last minute and I didn’t have a chance to tell you yet.”
“You can’t move your plans around?” she asks.
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling like a dummy with how many times I’ve repeated the phrase. “I can’t. I could still pick up catering before and set it up, though.”
Monica watches me for a few moments. She’s frowning, but just slightly, her lips tightly pressed together. Finally, she responds.
“I’ll take care of it.”
I blink a few times, surprised. I’m always the one tasked with coming up with a solution when I’m unable to do something. The fact that Monica says she’s taking care of it makes me a little worried.
She glances back down to her laptop. “That’s all I had for you.”
“Oh, right. I’ll get all of this done then,” I say, waving my notebook as I stand and exit her office.
Back at my desk, I get to work on some of the more menial tasks, letting my mind wander.
Part of me wonders how much of this is my fault. From the beginning I never set boundaries at my job. I made myself available every second I could, and I was proud of my performance and flexibility. But what has the cost been?
Scott has shaken things up, and suddenly, I’m realizing I want my time back. I don’t want to fill all my hours with work. I want to fill them with his infectious smile, his laughter. I want to fill them by slapping burritos and playing Mario Kart, I want to see more of Stephanie’s hidden sides and Jessie’s competitive nature, I want to know more about Macy than just what she’s reading or eating, to go out more often, to visit my parents and grandparents more often, to pay attention to and fall in love with the people around me that I’ve ignored all too long, to find things I love doing and make time to do them.
A month ago, I cancelled lunch with Jessie for work. A week before that, I canceled dinner with Stephanie because Monica asked me to drive her daughter to a soccer game. I even left my mom’s house early on Mother’s Day this year because Monica asked me to come in and “Get a head start on the week.”
I need to make a change. My life, my priorities, matter too, right?
So why do I feel so guilty about it?
“So, there’s something I wanted to tell you guys.”
My parents both look at me across the dinner table, flickers of curiosity and worry in their expressions.
“Um, I recently started dating someone. I have a boyfriend.”
They glance at each other, both smiling. My dad looks happy for me, but a little hesitant, like all dads are when their daughter starts dating. My mom’s eyes twinkle with excitement. “What’s his name?”
“His name is Scott,” I say, a mixture of nerves and happiness swirling in my stomach. “You remember Macy, from work? He’s her brother.”
“Scott?” My mom’s forehead creases in thought. “Is this the same Scott you had such a big crush on when you worked at The Roast?”
My cheeks tinge pink. “Yes.”
“Oh!” Her smile widens. “Do you have a picture?”
I pull out my phone and show my parents a photo of Scott.
As they look at the screen, my mom peppers me with questions about him, about what dates we’ve been on, how long we’ve been talking, etc. My dad listens silently, a weird cross between a smile and something else on his face. I think he’s in shock. I have no siblings, after all, so this is his first (and only) experience with a daughter leaving the nest and kissing a boy. Although, Scott and I haven’t kissed yet. Which is good, because my mom asks if I’ve kissed him yet, and when she does my dad looks like he may pass out. I quickly say no to prevent the need to resuscitate my father.
“I can’t believe this whole time you’ve been working with Macy and had no idea Scott is her brother,” my mom says, settling back in her chair as I put my phone away.
“I know!” I shake my head, smiling. “It’s so crazy.”
“Good thing you took the job as Monica’s PA,” my dad says, now recovered enough to rejoin the conversation.
“It’s like it was meant to be,” my mom smiles.
My smile becomes something more akin to a grimace. “True. It’s been a little hard at work lately, though.”
“How so?”
My lip quirks as I try to think of how to explain. “It’s just a little difficult to go on dates and spend time with Scott with how my schedule is. Before, I never really noticed how much I was missing out on, but now…” I shrug. “I’m expected to be flexible and keep my schedule open, and just move things around when Monica needs me to. I’ve always done that and prioritized my job, but… I think I’m starting to realize that maybe I don’t want my life to be centered on that. Like, I want more personal time to actually live my life.”
My parents are quiet. I look at them, not sure what I’m expecting them to say. I continue talking.
“I already left my first date with Scott early for work, and I felt awful. Then, today Monica asked me to come into work this coming Saturday night, but that’s Scott’s birthday, and his family is having a party. I told her I couldn’t change my plans, and she wasn’t very happy about it. But… Scott matters to me, and I know it would mean a lot to him if I went. And I never ask for time off. So, shouldn’t it be okay for me to go celebrate him?”
They glance at each other, then my dad turns to me. “Well, you usually work Saturday nights, don’t you? Did you give Monica much notice about Saturday?”
I blink. “I only found out about the party today, so…”
He nods.
“I know you’re excited and it’s fun to start dating someone,” my mom says, “but you also have to keep in mind that you’ve been going into the office on Saturday nights the last four years. It’s understandable Monica might get upset that you’re unavailable with such little notice, since she counts on you.”
My throat feels dry. “That’s exactly why I was planning to speak with her about no longer asking me to come in on Saturdays. It’s not explicitly in my contract to work Saturdays; it’s just something I’ve done. I want to have more time to myself, to actually date Scott and be able to spend time with family and friends, like I said. As things are now, I hardly have time to go grocery shopping each week.”
“Just keep in mind that you and Scott just started dating,” she says.
“What do you mean?”
My dad rests his arm on the table. “We just don’t want you to make any rushed decisions that could affect your job when this relationship is still so new.”
“But this isn’t a rushed decision. I’m not just doing this because of Scott. It’s just that spending time with Scott is making me realize how unhappy I’ve been with my job. I’m tired of always cancelling on friends, and of being nervous something will come up when I have plans I’m looking forward to. And I’m tired of always taking my laptop and working on vacation, even though I haven’t actually had a vacation in three years. I’m tired of Monica’s life taking priority over mine.” I shake my head, my emotions catching up with me. “I’d really like to quit. I just don’t know what else I’d do.”
“Lucy, everyone has to do jobs they dislike and make sacrifices,” my dad says. “When your mother and I first got together, we hardly saw each other with how busy we were. Sometimes, you just have to be willing to make sacrifices and do work you don’t enjoy.”
My frustration builds. I have been making sacrifices. I have been working hard. I’ve been doing the best job I can for the last four years while my personal life and relationships swirl down the drain. It’s not that I’m lazy or unwilling to work. I get it.
Is it really so wrong to want a change? To want to be happy? To want to have more time for the things that make life worth living?
Am I really just being selfish and lazy?
“I know you’re frustrated, and you think you want to work somewhere else, but working for Monica is a huge opportunity that could open up so many doors for you in the future,” my dad continues. “This job is a big blessing and practically fell in your lap. Don’t throw it away so quickly.”
“I don’t want to be a personal assistant forever,” I say, my voice starting to wobble. “I hate it. It’s so stressful. I’m constantly on edge waiting for a call, and Monica is constantly asking me to do things I don’t know how to do, and I’m just expected to figure them out. Every night I go to bed and I dread waking up and going to work.”
“Just give it time,” my mom says. “You’re in a new relationship and things are a little overwhelming right now.”
“Everyone works jobs they don’t like, sometimes for their entire lives,” my dad reiterates. “Working for Monica Harper might be challenging, but that’s because of how prominent she is. Don’t give up because you hit a rough patch.”
That’s not my point. I’d be happy working a job I didn’t like if I had time for my own life, too.
Right now, Monica’s needs come first and mine come second. That’s how it’s been the past four years. It’s the job.
But I’m just so tired.
I clear the dinner plates, stacking them in the sink. We move to the living room, hanging out and chatting for a while until I finally start to yawn and decide to head home. I slide into my car, replaying the dinner conversation in my mind as I drive back to the apartment. I make a few extra loops on the way, blasting music with the windows down. It’s my favorite way to think, and clear my head.
I know my parents mean well. They want to make sure I’m taken care of, that I make wise decisions, that I work hard and I’m responsible, that I don’t ruin my life just so I can spend time with my boyfriend.