58. Rosy
FIFTY-EIGHT
ROSY
My eyes fall closed as I inhale deeply, trying to centre myself. Exhaling audibly, I breathe in again, holding it before releasing it. I can’t seem to conjure the calm today. My patience is wearing thin, and I’m worried I’ll snap and say something.
I need this job.
As I retrace my steps back and forth past the sinks, I try to push away the agitation.
I brace my hands on either side of one of the basins, and my head slumps forward.
I just want to go home and not have to deal with people today, but that’s not an option.
There’s nothing I can pinpoint that’s triggered this feeling, but I just don’t have the bandwidth for people today.
I don’t try to hold back the sigh that escapes me as I head out of the communal toilet and back to my desk.
The smile plastered on my face even feels fake, but at least I’m trying?
Sliding onto my chair, I give myself another moment to breathe before pulling up an email.
Trying to work through some of my tasks proves more difficult today.
My attention’s split between the work in front of me, and the corridor to Peter’s office.
That nervous anticipation that he might appear and reprimand me for something buzzes beneath my skin.
“Rosy.”
I startle and knock over my desk organiser. Pens roll in all directions. I scramble to grab them, and Brett merely watches instead of assisting.
“How can I help?” I grind out, but I force a smile, so he barely seems to notice my agitation.
“I’ve got an urgent position with a quick turnaround time. So I need you to stay late tomorrow, as there’s a shitload of applications to shortlist. Then we’ll do some telephone interviews before I select the candidate.”
“Oh, ah…” I trail off. Do I want to stay late for this? No. But I don’t know how to say that. He has four other people in the team, plus Peter. Surely any of them can help? Does it really have to be me?
Then it clicks.
If he gets the others to help fill the position, the commission’s split. I’m salaried, so I don’t receive a commission. I’m being used so he can get more of the money. It hurts, but it’s also not a surprising revelation either.
His gaze narrows when I don’t respond.
“This is an important contract for the company, do I need to speak to Peter?” His usual flirtation is missing, as his tone turns hard and threatening.
“No,” I reply, my eyes dropping to my desk as my head bobs. “I’ll assist and stay later if needed.”
“Perfect, I’ll come get you when I’m ready tomorrow.” His switch in mood has me spinning, but it doesn’t matter how I feel because all he cares about is getting what he wants from me.
“Enjoy the rest of your day.” He winks, then strides away.
My lip stings, the faint taste of metal coating my tongue from the painful grip of my teeth. No matter how intense the urge to respond to him is—to say I hope he has a good day too—my mouth refuses.
Grabbing a tissue from my bag, I dab cautiously at the self-inflicted cut, grateful it’s at least on the inside and not visible. My shoulders slump at the thought of tomorrow, of staying here with Brett. Just the two of us.
It’s not like he’s physically forced anything, but he’s been more forward and overtly friendly recently. So it will make tomorrow a long, painful day, having to smile and keep him at arm’s length.
Maybe people will stop using me one day; they’ll see me as an equal and not just…a cog in the machine.
I blink quickly, trying to push back the rising tears. I can’t cry over a job; I just have to finish the day, then I can go home to people who care about me.