Chapter 13 I feel underdressed
I feel underdressed
Morgan
I rub my weary eyes and stare out of the window.
I’ve laid in bed for three hours fantasising about sleep that hasn’t showed.
There’s been an array of messages which have come through on my phone, none of which I’ve read.
My mind feels too jaded to be able to deal with anything outside of these four walls.
So much happened in such a short space of time. I feel caught in a loop, replaying the entire evening over and over.
Was I wrong to kiss Paddy back? Did I make a mistake by kissing him in front of Jerry?
I stare up at the ceiling. How could I let this happen? I’ve opened myself up to heartbreak when what I should have been doing is concentrating on the things that are important. Like starting work or learning how to drive. Both things I’ve known I need to do but have made no attempt to even try.
I let out a sigh and grab my phone off the bedside table, refusing to look at my inbox as I open up the tab to the internet.
With the big wide world in my hands, I search for driving instructors who live locally.
Of course, everything that comes up is either too far away or costs too much money, so, feeling deflated, I check the time on my clock and decide to call Holly.
She answers after only one ring. “Who is this?”
Crap. “It’s me. Morgan.” Holly doesn’t have my number, but I know hers by heart.
She clears her throat. “Morgan?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“You have a phone?”
My eyes close, a glimmer of a smile breaking. “I have a phone.”
The line rattles, presumably from her moving around. “Jesus, how long for?”
“Since my birthday.”
“And you’re only just calling me now?”
I cover my face with my hand. “I forgot. I’m sorry.” I don’t admit to being so wrapped up in Paddy and my dad, that it slipped my mind.
She blows out a heavy breath. “Better late than never. So, you can’t sleep, huh?”
Rolling to my back, I say, “You know me.”
“Yeah, I do. What happened?”
My free arm bends across the top of my head. “So much I don’t even know where to begin.”
Holly chuckles. “Wanna talk about it?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers, I reply, “Not now.”
“You sound tired.”
“I am.” I roll to my side with the phone against my ear. “How’s your aunt?”
“Oh, you know, old and miserable.”
I can’t help but laugh, enjoying hearing her voice. I’ve missed her. “When are you coming home?”
“A few more days.”
My lips pull into a straight line. “Okay.”
“Unless you need me to come home sooner?”
“I always need you,” I reply, making Holly let out a gentle hum of amusement.
“Ah, thanks, I feel so special. But you do just fine without me, Morgan.”
“Not true. You went away for a few days and everything went to shit.”
“What about the job? Did you hear back?”
“I got it,” I tell her, a mix of happiness and frustration running through my veins. “I start Monday.”
“That’s great news,” she sings cheerily.
“Yeah,” I remark, hearing how flat I sound. I don’t want to work there, but I need to start somewhere. There’s silence down the phone. “You still with me?”
“I’m here. You know, you used to write stuff down when things got too much. You could give that a go? Tell it to the paper as you used to say.”
“I said that?”
She laughs. “Cringy, right?”
“Definitely cringy,” I laugh back, vaguely remembering. “But yeah, you’re right. I can’t sleep so I could be productive I suppose.”
“That’s the spirit.”
I sit up, scratching the top of my head near my ponytail. “I’ll let you go, but I’ll message you soon.”
“Sounds good. See you soon, Morgs. Night.”
I hang up and drop my phone on the duvet. Throwing back the covers, I tiptoe quickly to my pad and paper on the side, then dash back to the warmth of my bed. Clicking the end of my pen, I let the tip dance across the page until the sun begins to rise.
Running on four hours of sleep, I arrive at my first day of work on Monday morning. I put on my big girl pants today and caught the bus, something I will not be getting used to, if I can help it.
I wouldn’t say all my bridges are burned between me and Dad, but I certainly wasn’t going to ask for his help.
In fact, yesterday, apart from coming down for Sunday lunch where I had to endure endless conversation about Jerry and his perfect life, I stayed away from the mix. Truth be told, I couldn’t stop writing.
What started out as a plethora of jumbled nonsense, transformed into raw, unbridled emotion. Nobody will ever read it, but I felt every word I got down, even those that weren’t clear to me.
After today, I plan on taking Kevin for a walk to the oak tree and getting some more writing done. My creativity is spiked, and I can’t let it slip away.
Inside the modern office on the main high street, I walk to the receptionist and introduce myself. Fortunately, the lady behind the desk remembers me and kindly shows me to Mr Caldwell’s office.
Just like the last time I was in here; I immediately want to leave. It’s so dull, and the sound of his slow, drawn-out tone isn’t helping. I have to fight off a yawn when he begins with my formal induction.
It’s nearly a whole hour later before I’m able to grab some coffee. Chucking it down, I immediately pour myself another.
“Go steady, it’s all about pacing yourself.”
A shy smile graces my face as Sarah pours herself a mug.
We met when I was being shown around. As it turns out, her desk is next to mine.
She’s the same age as me, I think, with bobbed, glossy champagne hair.
One of the perks of this particular office is that regular clothes are permitted, provided they’re sensible.
Safe to say that Sarah is the embodiment of the word, with black suit trousers, a shirt and matching blazer.
“I feel underdressed.” I assess my Converse, baggy black jeans, and tucked in jumper.
“Don’t sweat it.” Sarah opens the fridge and pulls out the milk. “You look great.”
“I appreciate you being nice to me because I’m new.”
She chuckles under her breath, leaning against the counter the same as me.
“I think the words you’re looking for are thank and you.
But seriously, take a look around this place.
” She does a quick lift of her chin while I scold myself internally for being rude.
“Everyone in this office is pushing fifty or looks like they hate their lives.”
I look around swiftly, realising she’s right.
“I’m being nice to you because I finally have someone to talk to. Unless you’d rather I leave you alone and get back to my desk? Because I get told that I talk too much all the time.”
“No, no,” I stammer, rapidly drawing the conclusion that it’s probably wise to be sociable, even though I haven’t done this in so long. “I appreciate you talking to me. I’m sorry for assuming anything. Honestly, I’m grateful.”
Her cheeks lift. “Come on,” Sarah says, and I follow her to sit at my desk beside hers. “Have you been shown the system yet?”
I nod, but I’ve already forgotten how to use it.
Sarah flicks her hand away, gesturing at me not to worry. “It’s easy to forget. I have it written down so that I remember.”
She passes me a Post-it note which I press to the front of my computer screen. I stare at it before asking, “What’s next?”
“We take calls. Make them. Then we’ll get more coffee and work out why, of all the places you could choose to work, you chose here.”
I sag into my chair. “That’s easy. Because my dad got me the interview and accepted on my behalf.”
“Oh, shit.” Sarah’s eyes widen.
“Yeah.”
Tapping the buttons on her keyboard, she logs into her emails. “You need help getting into yours?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, working the mouse to where I want it to go.
Sarah watches me with an amused grin. “You know, it helps if you’re quick with a computer. Some customers don’t like it when we blame the system for going slowly.”
I manage to click what I want to, then look her way with a deadpan expression.
She lifts a hand to her mouth and quickly looks away.
“So, why of all the places you could choose to work did you choose here?” I ask, repeating her question.
She spins a picture frame on her desk so that I can see. It’s of Mr Caldwell and her standing side by side. “For the same reason as you.”
My eyes jump to and fro, seeing their similarities. “Mr Caldwell’s your father?”
She huffs. “The one and only. So, you’re not the only one with a sad story, new girl.”
I drop my head but muse to myself. Sarah’s probably wondering who the hell I think I am, acting like my problems surpass everyone else’s.
I want to tell her that if it wasn’t for my dad being ridiculously overbearing about this, then we wouldn’t have met, and I wouldn’t genuinely feel okay about being here for the first time.