Chapter Twenty-One #2
I dig my phone out of my bag so I can text Glenn to tell him I need an awful lot of advice, and I see I have a message from Ella, asking me to please call her when I have a second.
I put my phone back in my bag. I’ll find a second later.
At home I sit at my table/desk and check LinkedIn to get an idea for what else is out there.
While I’m there I see just how many Lettercatters are requesting and leaving recommendations for me and each other, how many have the public Open To Work setting on.
All I can think of is how sad Jude will be if he sees this.
The people he wanted so badly to not let down are all softly moving on.
I send the text to Glenn, and then I call Ella.
“I haven’t seen you at the office,” I tell her, after we say hello.
“Can you blame me? I don’t think Darth Vader’s sister hung out on the Death Star too much. I’m not saying Jude’s the bad guy here, just that—”
“No, I get it. It’s a weird place to be lately for everyone.”
“That’s sad,” she says. Then, “Lacey, Jude misses you. He didn’t tell me that but I know he does.”
I think for a moment, instead of answering immediately. It’s something Jude does that used to drive me crazy before I really knew him. I believe what I called it then was fake-cerebral bullshit, but now I know is just him deeply considering the question before he gives a response.
“I miss him too,” I tell her. “But I don’t know how to separate him from who he is at work. That didn’t used to be a problem.”
“He thinks he’s doing the right thing,” she says.
“I know, and I disagree. He’s killing a thing that I love, and I don’t know how to let that go.”
“Then convince him that he’s wrong! That’s what the two of you do all the time.”
“He has all the data, Ella. So I think what he really wants is to just be done.”
Glenn writes back and invites me over to meet the baby on Sunday, which means on Saturday I get to shop for small socks, a very soft blanket, and an overpriced stuffed cat with a more than passing resemblance to the Lettercat logo.
The next day I take MUNI to West Portal and discover a suburb in my own city, full of strollers and bookstores and people ten years older than me who have it all figured out.
I take a winding street up a hill and find his road, and then his house.
Parked in front is a motorcycle.
I double- and triple-check Glenn’s message on my phone, telling me I should come over for an hour at around eleven on Sunday morning.
It’s five past. I think about leaving, or waiting up the street, or behaving like an adult and knocking on the door.
I choose the final option, silently hoping I don’t have to see Jude holding a baby. My heart doesn’t need that.
I’m in luck, because when Glenn comes to the door to greet me, Jude is right behind him.
“You don’t want to stay longer? I’m sure Lacey won’t mind, as long as you don’t try to hold the baby.”
Jude steps out onto the front step, holding his helmet. He’s wearing jeans and a plain black t-shirt; I’ve noticed he hasn’t worn a Lettercat one since the day he canceled the release.
He pulls that swoop of hair out of his eyes and looks at me, almost for permission. I might be less frosty than before, but I’m still very far from warm. I give him what we’ll call a chilled neutral reception and believe me, he notes it.
“No, I better go. Thanks again, Glenn. Lacey, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Poor guy,” Glenn says as he shuts the door behind us. “He’s really going through it.”
I shrug and follow him into the living room, where his toddlers are sprawled on the floor in a pile of Lego. I say hi to them but they’re more interested in whatever they’re building than some stranger there to meet their sister.
“Jen and Ryley are getting some rest at the moment,” Glenn tells me, taking the gift bag I offer. “They should be up in a half-hour or so, which hopefully gives us enough time to get into your situation.”
“We don’t have to!” I tell him. “This can be a social visit. You have three kids under five, that’s enough to deal with.”
“Lacey, as long as your problem doesn’t involve anything that needs wiping or cutting into cubes, I would be delighted to help. And clearly I’m up to speed; Jude’s stopped trying to spare me the gnarly details of what’s going on.”
I do a quick check to make sure we’re talking about the professional side of things— we are —and then I tell him that I’m not really here to talk about Lettercat.
I’m not here as his employee, either, if that’s okay.
I remind him that he’s my mentor and then I tell him about Faith and Layla: how Edmund connected us, that I might be receiving an offer, my concerns about the company.
“First of all, you sound a bit like you’re asking for my permission. You don’t need to do that. But if you’re wondering if this opportunity is perfect, well, it’s not. None of them will ever be.”
“Do you think that I’m ready?” I ask. “It’s a big job.”
The glasses come off. I was waiting for this part.
“Lacey, of course you’re not ready. Much like I wasn’t ready to start my own company.
Or become a parent. No one’s ever ready for anything; things happen, and you either rise to meet the challenge or you don’t.
You’ll make mistakes; that part is unavoidable.
But if you’re a smart person— which you are —you learn from those. ”
He’s right, of course, and this is great advice. As a passionate product person, this should really light my fire. But it doesn’t, and Glenn can tell.
“Tell me what the downside is if you do this,” he asks.
“It’s not about pros and cons,” I tell him. “Especially if Lettercat’s going to be gone in a year, there’s literally no harm in trying. The data all says I should do it.”
“But?”
“I believe in facts. I think intuition is a myth, and my gut has never told me anything. But for some reason I just don’t want to do it.”
Glenn puts his glasses back on. “I see two reasons why that might be. You could be burned out, which is possible given the way you work. Still, I doubt that’s the case. You said your gut’s never told you anything. Have you considered that it’s trying to, but you’re not listening?”
The muffled sounds of a baby crying come from upstairs, and Glenn tells me he’ll go change Ryley and bring her down to meet me.
She’s adorable and smells delicious, but after a half-hour of holding her while talking to Jen, whose boys are now crawling all over her, I find myself scooting back some personal milestones on my long-term life plan.