49. Nevaeh
My fingers run over the keyboard of the computer at the office while I make a plan for my interview with Leonard Tick. Genevieve, my supervisor here in Monaco, brings me a cup of tea at lunch and sits down in front of me, a smile on her young face. She’s only five years older than me, but she’s in charge of everyone. I put aside my work to be polite and also take advantage of the break.
“Thank you,” I say and point at the tea.
We’ve barely spoken since I started coming to the office a little over a week ago, but she’s been kind to me ever since.
“How are you?” she asks while taking a sip of her drink. Her brown hair is in a tight bun, as always, and her matching brown eyes are highlighted through her purple eyeliner. Her bronze skin almost glows today, and I wonder what has her in such a good mood.
“I’m fine, just getting everything ready for the race weekend,” I reply, hating the small talk, even though it’s one of the most human things in the world.
“You’re flying in a few days, right?” I give her a small nod.
“How are you?”
“I found out I’m pregnant this morning, so I’m pretty happy right now,” she says, and I can’t stop my jaw from dropping.
“Oh my-—Congratulations,” I manage to blurt out, a bit confused why she’d want to share this with me. Genevieve grins, and I finally realize why she’s glowing. It’s happiness. She’s, without a shadow of a doubt, happy.
“Thank you.” She adjusts her collar before clearing her throat. “You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you, but I promise there is a good reason. I have to leave for a doctor’s appointment, but Mrs. Lu and Ms. Martin are coming by for a debriefing. Would you mind doing that for me? I have all of the information here,” Genevieve says and hands me a folder full of papers.
I hesitate because I had no idea that Mrs. Lu and Ms. Martin were coming. I’ve been leaving Ms. Martin messages since yesterday, asking her if my newest article was okay or if she wanted me to change anything. She hasn’t gotten back to me yet.
“Sure, no problem,” I reply, sensing there will be an opportunity for me to speak to my boss.
Genevieve stays at my desk a little longer, sharing her story of her partner and her trying to get pregnant for the last year, but not having any luck until now. I congratulate her a few more times before she leaves, and I go back to my planning.
Leonard is polite, but he’s also quiet and keeps to himself, especially during race weekends, according to Val. So, I will have to find a way to make the four days entertaining for him as well as for me. It will be difficult considering that, even after all my research and the few evenings I went out with him and our friends, I’ve barely found out anything about this man.
Giving up, I text Val to ask her if there is any connection I can build on. He’s her mentor and teammate, not to mention a friend. She must know something.
I almost jump out of my chair from excitement.
“Good news?” Ms. Martin”s voice interrupts my victorious moment, and I clear my throat before answering.
“Not news, but what I found is very good, yes,” I reply and share what has me feeling giddy at the moment.
An approving smile spreads over her face as she settles in the seat in front of me, the same one Genevieve occupied only an hour ago. There’s something familiar now about her smile, something oddly comforting. Like I’ve seen her smile and eyes a hundred times by now even though I’ve only met her in person a few times before. The feeling unsettles me a little, especially because when I smile at Mrs. Lu to greet her, I don’t feel the same connection.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been working closer together with Ms. Martin.
“I’m very impressed with your performance at this company, Nevaeh. You take every criticism under consideration, every tip I give you, and you continue to surprise me with your implementation of said advice. I have to admit, I did not expect this when I hired you,” Ms. Martin says, and I let out an uncomfortable laugh. Praise and honesty like that from her are two things I’m not sure how to handle.
“Thank you for your guidance and the opportunities you’ve given me,” I simply say to both of the women in front of me, but a strange expression briefly covers Mrs. Lu’s face. It’s gone so quickly, I don’t have time to ask her about it.
“Genevieve tells me that you received the honor of debriefing us on what has been going on,” Mrs. Lu states while settling against her chair, crossing her legs in the process. I pull the folder out from under my notebook, showing them everything Genevieve told me to. Mrs. Lu and Ms. Martin listen closely, taking the papers I hand them with every explanation of what is on them.
“What about the new client list?” Ms. Martin asks, and I skim through the documents to look for them.
The first list I find has around ten names and reads New Tennis Clients. Under the reason for some of their joining it says: Articles of Formula One drivers written by Nevaeh Fuchs. My heart sinks from shock when I read Sabrina Barlow’s name along with Catalina Sanchez’s and Santiago Castillo’s, all of the famous players I’ve been watching for years.
The dates of their signing reveal that this happened almost two weeks ago.
“Did you know about this?” I ask Mrs. Lu, pointing at the paper. She scans the page quickly, her eyes widened ever so slightly before she looks at me. Her lips are pulled into a thin line as she contemplates her next words.
“I didn’t, but I will look into it and get back to you, I promise. I know how desperately you wanted to get a job in the tennis department,” Mrs. Lu assures me, but for some reason, I don’t think she will spend a minute on this to help me.
These famous tennis players signed as clients, which means that they agreed that exclusive content and information will be given to Griffin Sports, and it’s all thanks to me.
“Now, is there anything else?” Ms. Martin asks, pulling me back into the moment.
“No, that’s it.” I try not to read into this, to believe my boss when she says she didn’t know, but it feels strange for the head of a company not to be aware of ten big, brand-new clients signing. Clients that bring in a lot of money.
No, I don’t believe her when she says she didn’t know. But what I don’t understand is why she didn’t tell me.
What could she possibly gain by keeping this from me?
Mama, Papa, Nova, and Aileen are all standing in my apartment, inspecting it with various degrees of disapproval or excitement. Mama looks personally offended by how small it is, Papa is murmuring something about how practical the space is, Nova is horrified by the size of my bathroom—big enough for one person but tiny in comparison to the one she has—and Aileen is signing how wonderfully charming she finds everything.
We had a very awkward dinner where my mother and I didn’t speak and Nova couldn’t stop talking to fill the awkward tension with conversation. I love my sister, I do, but it didn’t help. The looks I got from Mama were enough to tell me she still hasn’t forgiven me for this decision, for choosing to live my life the way I want to, not the way she thinks I should.
“I will personally pay you monthly so you can move into a place with a bigger bathroom,” Nova calls out before a dramatic gasp escapes her. I translate what Nova said to Aileen, and she giggles at her girlfriend’s words. “You only have one drawer for your bathroom things?”
“Leave my bathroom alone,” I say as Papa walks up to me and wraps an arm around my shoulder. I lean my head on his torso, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
“I can’t believe you live here,” Mama says, scrunching her nose up in disgust. “You had a house, a home with so much space, and you gave it all up for… this?” Aileen frowns at my mother, so I place a hand on her shoulder to assure her it’s okay.
“Yes,” I say, not hesitating. And I’m happy, I add, signing the words because if I said them out loud, I have a feeling it would hurt her more.
My mother has been many things for me in my life. A friend, someone to lean on when times got tough, a patient listener when my anxiety first started. She’s been overbearing and controlling too, but she’s never been cold. That’s not who she used to be to me, but she’s grown so fucking cold, I don’t know what to do anymore.
“There’s something you wanted to discuss with me,” Papa chimes in, hugging me a little before stepping away to stand in front of me and block my view of Mama.
“It’s work-related,” I say, hoping he hears in my voice that I want to discuss what happened in private. I give Papa a look when he furrows his brows at me, and understanding washes over his features.
“Then, let’s go get some ice cream and discuss. I’ll see you all back at the hotel,” he announces to Mama, Nova, and Aileen, signing the words with his hands at the same time.
We all make our way outside of my building, Nova and Aileen hugging me goodbye and telling me they’re excited to spend the day together tomorrow. Mama simply disappears into the taxi, not looking back once.
My heart hurts a little now.
“Will she ever forgive me?” I ask Papa, and he holds out his arm for me to take.
“She doesn’t see how successful you are yet, so she thinks you made the biggest mistake of your life. But, everywhere I go during the race weekend, I hear people praising you. ‘The young journalist who has exceeded everyone’s expectations,’” he says, and half a smile tugs on my lips. “She wants you to move back home, but I can see now how well you’ve been handling everything. I’m so proud of you,” Papa goes on, and I squeeze his arm.
A tear slips down his cheek, but he wipes it away quickly.
“It’s just hard for both of us that you’re not around, which doesn’t mean that you should move back. It’s just, you grew up so fast, and we miss you.”
My own tears stream down now. I want to respond, but it takes me a second to get rid of the lump in my throat.
“I miss you both a lot. There is still so much I need you both for, things that have me tossing and turning all night that I can’t seem to answer for myself. I will always need you, no matter what,” I point out, and he nods, his eyes fixed on the street in front of us.
“Then tell me, what has you tossing and turning?” Papa asks as we make our way toward the gelateria.
“My boss has been hiding that new tennis players have signed with Griffin Sports to have articles written like the ones I write for the Formula One drivers. She told me she didn’t know, but I have a feeling she’s lying to me,” I explain.
“Why do you think that?” He looks down at me, his face void of any emotion.
“Because these are famous tennis players, top tennis players. They’re probably paying a lot of money to get these exclusives. How would she not know about this for two weeks?” I ask, and he nods, clearly agreeing with my train of thought. “I wanted a job in the tennis department, but they didn’t have a spot for me. Now they do. I’ve proven to be a good journalist. There’s no reason for her to keep this from me,” I say, frustrated all over again.
“Maybe there is one that she didn’t want to share with you,” he guesses, shrugging a little. “Give her some time. Now she knows that you know. She won’t be able to hide it from you anymore,” Papa adds, and I already feel a lot better now, having spoken to him.
“Yeah, you’re right. Thank you,” I say as we stop in front of the gelateria.
“Your mom will come around too.” I appreciate his reassurance, but, right now, it feels like I’m the villain in her story, and I’m not even sure I want her to forgive me.
There shouldn’t be anything to forgive.
Maybe if I say it a few more times, I’ll stop feeling so guilty.