5. Piper
It’s 6:45 a.m. when I swing open the metal door to the office, and I’m thrilled to find I’m the only one here. There’s something about a quiet space at the start of a workday that feels hopeful.
While I dread morning meetings, like the one at 7:15 with today’s prospective donor, it’s nice to start before the day’s chaos ensues. Plus, I can’t blame folks for wanting to meet before they head to work, even if it means my work starts when the sun’s barely up.
The 6:30 a.m. train was empty and felt especially so without a Banker Man exchange to look forward to. It’s become a source of amusement, wondering what sort of line he’ll give me as we split up at the doors.
I wonder whether he’ll ever be James, in my mind, or whether Banker Man is the best he’ll get from me. I should stick with Banker Man. It’s less personal. Less likely to mean something it shouldn’t mean. More likely to dampen the nervous energy that flits under my skin when I wonder whether he’ll miss me today too.
Slinging my tote over the back of my chair, I unload its contents to their respective homes on my desk. The laptop gets plugged in, my lunch gets tucked in the bottom left drawer, I place my notebook to my right and my water bottle to the left. I pick out a file from the bottom right drawer and scan the profile of this morning’s donor to familiarize myself before he arrives.
Like most of our donors, Mr. Nowak is older and trying to find purpose in retirement after a lifetime of, checks notes , corporate law. He’s interested in seeing the proposal for the Hope First scholarship program. He wants to learn how any funds he provides would be allocated.
I could talk about the program all day, and I might if I’m not careful. My fingers find a pen to jot down a few thoughts to structure the conversation, and more importantly, my anxious mind:
Mentorship
College application support
FAFSA help
Grant opportunities
Matching funds
One-to-one reporting from recipients to donors
Lasting generational impact
Those points sum it up. My phone buzzes with a text, vibration breaking the silence and causing a startled yelp to leave my mouth.
It’s only 7:08 a.m.
Sami follows the text with a gif of a pleading penguin, its smooth fins held together in prayer in front of its sweet little face. I can’t fight the grin that’s spreading across my cheeks.
My fingers fly across the screen as I try to wrap this conversation in a bow before Mr. Nowak arrives.
Today is going to be good. I’m not sure why, but I can feel it.
Each fallen leaf crunches and splinters under the balls of my feet as I walk to meet Sami for our half-apps date. Hearing every crisp, dry edge pop under the pressure of my steps is supremely satisfying. I’m shimmering from the inside out as I stroll through the neighborhood, my brain bathing in the glow of a truly great day; everything turned out exactly right.
I run through each hour in my mind, trying to wring my memory of every last drop, wishing I could bottle up today’s wins for a future tomorrow.
The donor meeting went flawlessly. I secured a ten-thousand-dollar initial pledge for the scholarship program. The jelly didn’t seep through the bread of my PB I fully expect Sami to call out the shitshow that is my life.
Instead, she just grins, a quiet chuckle coming out with her words. “That sounds right. And then?”
“And then the next day was KingCon. You know how it is; the train was totally packed. The only open seat in the whole car was next to his, so I took it. At the time, though, I didn’t realize it was him—he was obscured by the mass of Elvis fans. We recognized each other after I sat down. I apologized again for the shoe, we traded names, the usual stuff.”
Sami’s pursed lips tell me she’s not buying what I’m selling, this attempt to make the interaction sound casual.
“Uh huh,” she squints, trying to read my thoughts. “So, tell me. Why exactly did that man, that six-foot-tall, blue-eyed, suit-wearing man,” she shoots a glance toward the bar where James is sitting alone, nursing his drink, “saunter right up to you and give you a train pass? If you ride the same line every morning, he must realize you have a fare card.”
My heart pumps a steady thrum as I shift in my chair. Without the absurdity of KingCon as a backdrop, the agreement I made with James feels silly, reckless even. Whatever delusion led me to say yes that morning has since disappeared.
“Well, we were talking about all the Elvis costumes, and I mentioned how expensive the whole thing must be, doing the KingCon bar crawl. I guessed the attendees probably didn’t care about paying the fares to wander around the city, that maybe some of them were related and traveling on a Family Fares card. Saving money that way.”
“Piper. No. No …” Sami grips the edges of the table with her petite hands, and I can see the story starting to knit together in her mind. If there was no judgment before, it’s likely to come now.
“And then he offered to set up a family pass and add me to his account,” I continue. “I think he got the sense I’m broke, which I am, and he wanted to do something nice. It’s not a big deal.”
No way is my nonchalance coming across as anything but forced. I’ll keep trying.
“Let me get this straight to make sure I understand,” Sami leans forward, not breaking eye contact, “You meet this guy, James, on the train. You mess up his shoe. You sit by him the next day, tell him your name and that you’re poor, and he offers to pay for your commute?”
“Yes. That’s the gist.” When Sami puts it like that it sounds ridiculous. I suppose it is ridiculous.
“Girl, he is in. to. you! ” She whistles and I hush her before anyone, before someone , can take notice. “You think guys are out here being chivalrous for fun? In this economy?”
She leans back in her seat, pleased as punch to be a witness to this romantic development of mine. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
“Sami, there is nothing to do about it. I’ll take the train like I always do, and we’ll say hi and goodbye. That’s it.”
“Hmmm. I can see that going super well for you.”
I cover my face with my hands, scrunching up my features behind my palms as though it may help me disappear from this conversation altogether.
“You know as much as I do that I can’t pursue this. He’s a banker, just like Henry. It’s taken the last twenty-four months to put myself back together after he tore my life to pieces, and I am finally back on track. I know the kind of guy James is, and I’m not interested.”
“You sure? Cause you looked very interested when you watched his ass walk away from this table.” Sami is impossible. Mostly because she’s always right.
“There is a difference between being attracted and being interested. Even if I were, I’m too much of a mess for him. I’ll never be put together enough or articulate enough to exist in his world. I tried that, remember? I’m not looking to get involved with another guy who will only want me until he really knows me. There’s no need to lengthen the roster of men I’ve scared away.”
Sami considers this with a nod. She shepherded me through the breakup with Henry and knows the toll it took on me, on us. She wants to protect me almost as much as I want to protect myself.
“I get that, I do,” she replies.
Her empathy softens the space between us as she continues. “If you don’t want me to push you on this, I won’t. But I’m telling you, Piper, I saw the way he smiled at you, the glint in his eye when you laughed at his drink order. He feels something toward you, whether you want him to or not.”
I drain my drink, letting the wine tingle my throat before setting the empty glass on the table. I’m not sure where we go from here.
Then it hits me.
“Oh shit!” I jump up with a start. “Sami, we’ve gotta go home. I need to make more sausage balls.”