6. It’s about time
6
IT’S ABOUT TIME
L ast night plays over and over in my head on a loop, going over every moment, every single interaction I’ve had throughout the day, making it nearly impossible to exist.
What happened between us was a mistake—how could it not have been? Two complete strangers who’ve never seen each other in real life should never have done anything like that. That and the fact that Will was my confidant, my virtual bestie, made it so incredibly wrong. But it happened so quickly, I couldn’t have stopped myself even if I wanted to. And if I’m being honest with myself, I didn’t want to stop myself.
After I finally pulled myself together by taking a shower and consuming about twenty pounds more of Valentine’s Day candy, I managed to fall asleep. It was a restless night, filled with nebulous dreams of me and different versions of Will sitting outside a café somewhere, laughing over coffee and dessert during springtime as cherry blossoms blow around us in the chilly air under a warming sun. Me and Will rolling around in my bed as he and the morning sun kiss every inch of my skin at the same time. His lips soft as they explore, strong when he’s in between my legs, shoulders pushing them open as he makes me come harder than he did last night with just a few words.
Sometimes he’s a pale, short king with bright blue eyes, or a beefy gym rat. Other times, he’s the perfect guy you’d find if you googled “tall, dark, and handsome” or the adorable boy next door type. Regardless of what he looks like, however, he’s always amazing , every version of him absolutely perfect and sweet and kind. I know that I’ll like him, no matter what he looks like. And I ache for that moment; ache for that place where I can see and touch him, where I don’t have to keep playing the imagination game, and we can just hang like two old friends.
I want that. I want that more than anything these days. Despite having a few friends here, New York City can get lonely, and I’m hungry to have the easy relationship Will and I have virtually, but in person. And I know it’s as simple as asking him to meet up somewhere, but maybe it’s for that reason alone that I shouldn’t . Risking this odd companionship and relationship over just wanting to touch him—or fuck, at least just see his face for once—seems a bit foolhardy—especially after what we did last night. We still haven’t talked today—something completely out of the norm for us—leaving me terrified that I’ve already ruined things. And maybe I’m being stupid; maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal to him and I should trust our friendship more and?—
The slap of a manila folder on my desk brings my recurring daydream and concerns to a violent halt. I jump about a foot in my chair, almost knocking my Diet Coke over my entire office set-up.
“This folder is missing the pricing sheet.” Lena looms over me, her dark brown eyes fierce as she crosses her arms in front of her chest.
With a slicked back ponytail and expertly tailored skirt and silk blouse, Lena doesn’t just look like my boss—she looks like a Boss. Capital B. Her commanding presence demands respect, which causes those with smaller egos to misinterpret her as a different type of b-word (didn’t I once refer to her as an ogre, too?). But I’m convinced she’s just misunderstood. She has to be.
“I need to hand this to the higher-ups in forty-five minutes, and I cannot have one of the most important pieces of information missing from the packet.”
“Yes, Lena.” With shaking fingers, I pick the folder from the desk and rifle through the papers. “But, are you sure? I thought I printed them out and?—”
“Bridget.” Her voice is all business. I swallow and look up at her. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Right. Okay. I’m so sorry. I’m not sure what happened, but I’ll go ahead and print one out super quick and bring it back to your office as soon as possible.”
I turn from her and quickly click through my documents, searching for our most updated pricing sheet on our company shared drive. I expect Lena to walk back to her office and continue with her day, but she chooses instead to prop herself up against my desk. With hesitation, I look up at her to meet her gaze—brows furrowed, eyes narrowed.
“Are you scared of me, Bridget?”
I laugh once involuntarily because, well , duh. She can’t be that oblivious, can she? She’s way too smart to be.
“I—” I hesitate, wondering what it is she wants me to feel.
“It’s not a trick question,” she says, as if reading my mind. Folder in hand, she says, “Come on. Let’s step into my office.”
Out of habit, I take my notebook and pen with me, ready to take any necessary notes—whether it be instructions on how to brew evil potions or what paperwork I need to file after she fires me (though that last one might just be something to ask HR).
“I’m not trying to terrorize you,” she tells me once she’s seated behind her desk and the door to the office is closed tightly behind us. “I’m just trying to train you to be the best at your job, however trite that may sound. Because this industry… This space isn’t for everyone. For too long it’s been controlled by abusive people, and you need to be tough in order to survive it.”
I gawk at her, wanting to ask her whether she realizes the irony in her statement. But there’s no need, since it’s visible on her face that realization has already dawned on her.
“And I fear I’ve already become part of the problem,” she whispers, wincing.
“No!” I say a little too loudly. “Well. Um, maybe . It’s just… You can be a bit intimidating sometimes. A lot of the time. Okay, fine, all of the time. And that can make it difficult for people to approach you when they have questions or need help. And maybe… Maybe if they felt like they could talk to you and stuff, fewer things could go wrong? Because, you know, you’d be able to assist them instead of instilling fear and making everyone avoid you as much as possible?”
Wow. How diplomatic of you, Bridget. I hope you liked the free food in the kitchen, because that’s the last time you’ll be seeing such a fantastic smorgasbord of flavored sparkling water, soda, and snacks.
Lena raises a brow at me, her eyes roaming all over my face as if studying every inch of my expression, soaking up my words.
“Am I fired now? Please don’t fire me. I know I might not be great yet, but I can get there because I really love this job and I feel like I could really learn a lot from you and I’ve been making a lot of progress and I promise I will?—”
She raises a hand. “Stop.” Lena heaves a huge sigh, pinches the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “I’m sorry.”
My jaw drops, and I look around, searching for someone else who might be in the room. Because she can’t have apologized to me. There’s no way. “Did you… Did you just apologize to… me ?”
She clears her throat and fiddles with a pen. “It has come to my attention that I may not be the nicest boss to work under sometimes. It’s not like I don’t know that I’m not an easy person to work with, but I didn’t expect for people to find me so horrible.” She groans. “You see, I had an abusive boss when I first started. This person… They took credit for my ideas, yelled at me, and made me do unnecessary work just to humiliate me. Screamed when things didn’t go their way, whether it was my fault or not.”
I gasp, finding it impossible to believe that anyone could take on the legendary Lena Bouros. Was it someone from this company or somewhere else? It was my understanding that she started working at Sartoria straight out of college and all throughout her grad school, so this had to have happened at this company. Did the person still work here? Was it someone I saw every day?
“When I began to grow within the ranks,” she continues, “I vowed to myself I wouldn’t be the same way, but I guess I didn’t even realize it happened to me, too. The thing is, sometimes in this industry, it feels like if you’re not the one being feared, you’re the one who’s going to lose. And I suppose I’ve gone a little too far over the years.”
I stare at her, wide-eyed, unsure of what to say.
“So, if I’ve… terrorized you,” she says with a wince. “I… I apologize. I didn’t even notice I was doing the same things that were being done to me.”
“Um.” I hesitate. “Not to ruin this beautiful after school special moment—and I mean that in the best way possible, because I honestly find this pretty healing—but what brought about this self-awareness and need to repent?”
She purses her lips. “I’m not proud to admit this—to be honest, I’d love to say it was all me, and I had an epiphany—but, no. There was an HR complaint. Several, actually. At first, I thought they were insane, but I started thinking and—” She shakes her head and looks off into space. “I don’t even want to tell you what it was—I actually am not allowed to—but it rocked me. What I said was very similar to something my old boss said to me once. It wasn’t a great feeling when I realized I was doing exactly what I swore never to do. In fact, I believe I even used the same words my old boss did and everything, made someone feel small just because they weren’t well-versed in something instead of using it as a teachable moment. But at least I’m not taking credit for anyone’s work like they used to do with me,” she says with disgust.
“Anyway, HR suggested I speak to everyone who reports to me and, well, that includes you. I’d like to know how I can uplift you—not put you down.”
I smile widely. “Lena, you have no idea how happy this makes me. This job means everything to me. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt passionate about getting up in the morning and doing something that isn’t related to my hobbies or my cat.”
She shoots me an uncertain look while I think back to all the other jobs I’d had in the past, from admin roles to retail; dog walking to appointment scheduler at a hospital. The only thing that’s come even the tiniest bit close to making me this excited is that one time I took a job as a cook for that retired Goldman Sachs banker who had a breakdown and decided to open his own very successful burger food truck. And that was only because I got unlimited fries and was allowed to take any leftover food back home with me at the end of the day.
But anyway, even getting free fries on the regular does not compare to feeling like you’re a part of something big. And it is big, even if it is “just” clothes. It’s something people wear every day, it becomes part of their life, it’s how they express and present themselves to the world. And to be able to do it in a responsible, sustainable way is the cherry on top of it all.
“Good,” Lena tells me. “I’m happy to hear that because I think it’s time I start involving you more in projects. So let’s talk.”