I Scream for Irene #2
Subject: RE: Return to Office
Hi Mona,
Following up on this message, we are very much looking forward to your return to the office. I also wanted to let you know
that I received a lovely note about you from Lana Winston. She’s eager to discuss working with the firm.
Upon your return, I and the other directors would like to schedule a meeting to discuss your very bright future at the office.
Thanks again, Mona!
Sincerely,
Carolyne
cc: Bill Cleg
Normally this would be a definite buy something bubbly and tell all my friends moment. Yet here, with just Alice’s vacant eyes staring back at me, it feels so . . . anticlimactic.
That’s the problem. Normally, I’d be feeding off the buzz of the office. Normally, I’d send this kind of victory to the group
chat right away. I’d humblebrag and everyone would act fake happy for me for securing someone like Lana, and we’d all go home
better for it!
Now, it’s been so long since anyone has added me to the thread, that this message from me would come from out of nowhere.
And why was my next instinct to run to Jane or Sami—or even fucking Carmen—over something I knew was at their expense?
Because that’s the problem. This victory could very possibly cost my new friends their homes.
I shove those thoughts away for now—no use dwelling on worst-case scenarios. At least Missy and Robin seemed to care about
the building and the tenants. I’ve given this place its best shot at a happy landing, or at least a softer one.
I type a message to just Olivia:
Guess who’s bringing in Lana for a pitch meeting next week!
Immediately the dots that Olivia’s typing appear. At least someone will be happy for me.
Before Olivia’s reply comes, a knock sounds at my door. I drop my phone and make my way over. When I open the door, I’m surprised
to see Norm—he’s in his brown shirt and grey work slacks.
“Hey, Norm! Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Norm backs away insecurely—he’s gripping a grease-stained paper bag in his hand. “I brought you, um, lunch.” His words
are almost a whisper.
I get the feeling any sudden moves will send him running. So I hold myself very still and smile at his incredibly sweet gesture.
“Thank you so much. Please, come in.”
He steps tentatively into my front hall.
I point toward my couch. “Make yourself at home. I’ll grab some plates.”
Once we’re settled in my living room, we dig in. He must have asked Sami what I like, because it’s my favorite sandwich with
the right dressing. I dunk a fry in mayo and ask, “So how is work going today?”
Norm shrugs as he swallows a bite of food. “Decent, I think. Same old.”
There’s a weird look in his eyes when he asks, “I guess your leave is up soon?”
I’m not sure if it’s a question or a statement. “Yeah, I should be going back the week after next, on June twenty-ninth.”
I can’t suppress my smile as I think about waltzing back in with a shiny new client. “I can’t believe how fast time flew.”
“Yeah . . .” There’s an uncomfortable edge in his tone.
“When was the last time you went to the office?” I try to keep my pitch conversational, hoping I’m not scaring him somehow.
Norm stares at his hands. “Probably five years ago.”
I think of all the Christmas parties, all the Stampede fucking cowboy breakfasts. Those communal moments, the trauma bonding,
was what made the job so worth it to me. And he’s avoided the place the whole time. How lonely it must be.
“Norm, it’s been really cool getting to know you lately,” I say. “It’s nice to have someone in the building who works at the
same office.”
He nods but doesn’t add more as he swallows another bite of food. He chews intently, then grabs a napkin from the generous
stack Sami stuffed in the bag. “Are you looking forward to going back?”
I nod automatically. “Getting back into the pace of things might be tough, but I am.”
His eyes narrow at his BLT. “Yeah, I’ve noticed it’s pretty intense.” His voice drops. “IT people can see a lot of the goings-on—almost
everything.”
The French fry I’d just bitten goes dry in my mouth. He definitely knows something.
Of course he does. Why didn’t I think of the possibility that he might have seen I’m bringing in Lana as a new client?
“Okay, look.” His voice is steadier than I’ve ever heard him. “I don’t have many friends or anything, so this may come off sort of . . .” His eyes lock right onto mine and he hardens his shoulders like he’s decided something. “Um, so, are you still close with Olivia Chambers?”
That is not what I was expecting him to say. “Yeah,” I confirm. “We’re close.”
He winces at this. And I realize it’s possible she’s been a real dick to him, the way I know a lot of people are to the IT
guys. I race to her defense. “I know she can seem rough around the edges, but that’s because she’s working so hard to move
up the ladder.”
“Look, I feel like I should say this because you seem somewhat . . . because I appreciate your, um, including me, but Olivia
isn’t . . .” All his words are muttered. But then he looks up and seems to decide something. “She doesn’t have your best interest
at heart.”
It’s so bizarre, what he’s saying, that the words almost don’t register.
“I know about the Vesterno account,” I say slowly. “She was totally honest about that, and I’m okay with it.”
He shakes his head and continues, “Not just that one. She has asked to keep Levin, Eden Watermark, and GBA too.”
I ignore the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears. That’s more than half of my portfolio. I blink and I blink, trying to
sift through why she’d do that. “Well, I guess it makes sense if she’s been working on them.”
His nod is patient, like he wants to soften whatever blow he’s preparing for. “She cited several errors she’d caught on all
of them and stated she was concerned about your standard of care for the clients. I think Corbin plans on complaining about
you too. I found some of their DMs on the server.” Norm’s feet fidget, like he’s resisting the urge to spring from the room.
“I’m sorry. I just, I had to say something, I didn’t want you not knowing.” He wipes the sweat that sheens his forehead and stares at his sneakers. I get the feeling Norm hasn’t done anything
this uncomfortable in a million years. And a vision of him psyching himself up to come talk to me flashes in my mind.
His phone sounds with the distinct sound of a Teams message. His eyes pop at his screen, but he doesn’t make a move to leave.
“Hey, is that an IT call?”
He nods. “I’m, um, I’m supposed to log back in at twelve forty-five on Thursdays. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the time.”
“Of course.” I stand, shuffling my wrapper into the empty bag. “Thanks for lunch.”
We make our way to the door. My legs feel like they’re made of jelly. I’ve been so eager for my triumphant return to work
with a flashy new client in tow, ready to be a big cheese in the office again. But am I about to lose my whole suite of clients
and suffer a humiliation instead, all thanks to my shitty friends?
“Hey, Norm,” I say, my hand hovering on the doorknob as he walks out. “I really appreciate you for telling me. You’re a good
friend.”
His face goes instantly red.
After he’s gone, I go over every recent interaction with Olivia. Everything I’d shared. She’s been my closest confidante through
all these years. I wanted her—no, needed her—to look up to me, to think I was somebody worth emulating.
By the time I retrieve my phone from the counter, I’d almost forgotten that I’d sent her my latest good news.
I almost laugh at what’s on my screen.
A single thumbs-up emoji.
Later, she’ll say she got busy but she was really happy to see that news. That’s usually how it goes.
So instead of popping open some bubbly or whatever delusions I had of celebrating today, it ends up being one of those nights
where I can’t sleep no matter how much I crumple my comforter between my legs.