Chapter 12 The Sky’s the Limit
12
The Sky’s the Limit
The heat’s on the fritz at work the next morning, so I opt to leave my coat on. When I move to uncoil my scarf, I hesitate, unwrapping it from my neck carefully, like I might find a bit of Adam wrapped inside like a gift. I only find the last flecks of glitter from Chelsea’s holiday concert. I shiver off lingering memories of Adam’s fingers on my skin.
Since the scarf-touch yesterday, my fingers have been itching for an excuse to text Adam. It’s normal to casually text a friend in the middle of a workday for no reason other than wanting to hear how their day is going, right? Friends do that. And Adam is my friend. My attractive friend. My friend who stared into my eyes in a charged goodbye that ended in a featherlight neck graze I’m trying not to think about.
My group chat saves me from compulsively texting Adam an out-of-the-blue “Hey!” like a crushing dweeb.
8:32 AM
Mara:
Why did Patrick send me a formal text breaking up with our trivia team??!!??!!??!!
8:33 AM
Mara:
Chelsea!?
8:35 AM
Chelsea:
It’s not my fault! Patrick and Josie are focusing on their relationship right now without distractions.
8:38 AM
Alison:
She called you a distraction?
8:41 AM
Chelsea:
Just trivia, but I think I was implied.
8:44 AM
Chelsea:
I have to go. The children are here, and they’re forming a mutiny.
A text notification from Adam interrupts the group chat, and I should be mortified by how I beam at it.
8:55 AM
Adam:
Do you like this stain for the cabinets?
A picture of Adam’s arm holding a finished cabinet door in the morning light of his driveway fills my screen. The stain is light and natural. The warm wood tone juxtaposed with the cabinet’s large, modern shape and chunky, matte black hardware looks so contemporary-cozy I’m overwhelmed with the urge to make a potato kale soup.
8:56 AM
Adam:
Everyone likes white, because it photographs well, but I think this will look better in Sam’s place.
My chest smarts. We spent yesterday talking about everything other than Sam. It was as if we were becoming more than forced partners in a funereal task. Or maybe that’s what I wanted to believe.
And then there was the way he looked at me. The way his finger grazed my neck. The way it seemed like he wanted to—
Whatever this is, or can’t be, doesn’t dampen the harmless delight of talking to Adam.
8:57 AM
Alison:
I love it! It’s perfect.
8:57 AM
Adam:
Good because I stained them all last night.
8:58 AM
Alison:
What would you have done if I’d said no?
8:59 AM
Adam:
Nothing.
9:01 AM
Alison:
I see how it is.
Adam doesn’t respond for the rest of the morning no matter how frequently I check my phone. When I can’t stall any longer for my meeting with Daniella, I walk into her office and immediately relax at the sight of a half-full green juice.
Though she’s a mostly even-keeled boss, an eleven thirty a.m. meeting with Daniella can get dicey. A slave to efficiency, she regularly exercises during lunch, relying on juices and powders for sustenance. On cardio days, she fasts until one p.m. to avoid reflux, and at eleven thirty a.m., she’s not always at her cheeriest. But today is a strength-training day, so I enter with a little extra confidence.
“Patty mentioned you have reservations about moving into her role with private developer accounts. Now, I don’t have much time before Pilates, so forgive me, I’m getting right down to brass tacks.” Daniella takes a long slurp of her green juice. Her dark hair doesn’t move from its severe, sleek pony. “When you were a young girl in STEM, dreaming of your future, what did you imagine?”
I sink into the modern chair in front of her desk and shrink by approximately a foot. “I think I wanted to build trains.”
Her forehead creases. “Hm. I didn’t expect that. The rest of this speech works better if you wanted something more enterprising.” She sits up in her chair, waving her hand like she’s testing the wind direction. “It’s fine. I’ll pivot. When I wanted to level up in my career, I identified where the money was coming in, and I put myself at the center of it. That’s where I want to see you, Alison. At this firm, local government contracts aren’t keeping the lights on. Do you want to be the one poring over spreadsheets and modeling transit plans or do you want to be managing the people doing those things?”
I like and admire Daniella, but I’m also vaguely terrified of her, so, under her scrutiny, I grab on to my cushioned seat, feigning a more assertive, powerful posture. Adam’s words from yesterday about focusing on what I want—or at least avoiding the things I don’t want—buzz in my mind. “I’ve never seen myself as the corporate-ladder type.”
“Then maybe you should reevaluate the way you see yourself. Dream big, Mullally! The sky’s the limit.”
Behind Daniella’s right shoulder is a motivational typography art poster that says exactly that. I wonder if she bought it because she’s always been able to say “The sky’s the limit!” without irony or if this poster has incepted her over time. The one to her left reads do the needful , and I thank the god of corporate jargon she didn’t incorporate that particular catchphrase in our one-on-one.
“I don’t want to pressure you, but I want this tied up by the end of Q-four.” She nods, and I’m dismissed.
I check my phone on my way to my desk like a woman possessed, and to both my delight and terror, I’ve missed a phone call from Adam. Not even my close friends call me unless something’s terribly wrong, but something about Adam’s no-nonsense persona tells me he might be the kind of guy who uses the phone.
I wanted to hear your voice, I imagine him saying in his low, gruff way and instantly shiver.
I, on the other hand, am not the type of woman who calls, due to modern socialization.
11:38 AM
Alison:
Sorry I missed your call. I was in a meeting.
11:43 AM
Adam:
Didn’t mean to call. Sorry.
My mouth raspberries as I deflate into my office chair. What was I thinking? Giving in to “happiness” and nursing a crush on a man I met through my ex-boyfriend—an ex whom, despite his death, I’m somehow dating? Again?
My phone illuminates on my desk in my peripheral vision.
11:46 AM
Adam:
What was the meeting about? How to make your job more appealing to Hallmark writers?
I snort. Warmth floods through me almost like our historic building’s heat is working properly.
11:47 AM
Alison:
No, that’s my presentation on Monday.
11:49 AM
Adam:
You have way more presentations in your line of work than I do.
11:51 AM
Alison:
That’s it. I’m quitting to become a carpenter. Hallmark will write a movie about my move to a small town to open a bespoke cabinet shop to save the town Christmas parade, and in doing so, its very soul! It’ll be called A Cabinet for Christmas .
11:54 AM
Adam:
I feel like you think I build a single cabinet from sunup to sundown.
11:55 AM
Alison:
You do in MY Christmas movie.