He Finally Got a Real Name
Thessa called Tuesday morning to check how I was doing. Her sickly sweet voice sent chills crawling up and down my spine. I know Thessa. And as much as I admire her, I know she’s a calculating bitch. In her eyes, everything and everyone has a precise, measurable value attached to them. Right now, I matter because none of her translators bring in the kind of money I do.
That doesn’t change the fact that she’s desperately looking for my replacement. I’m sure of it. She simply doesn’t want to need me this much. She hasn’t found anyone yet, though. I’d be able to tell.
She also knows I screwed up and failed to factor Ben into the equation. Somewhere, she’s probably sitting back comfortably, stuffing popcorn into her mouth while waiting to see how I get myself out of this. If I had to guess, she’s spent the last week becoming best friends with all the other translators. Constantly asking questions. Getting them talking. Trying to find out whether I’m secretly outsourcing some of my work behind her back. Deep down, she probably doesn’t really believe I’d do it, because she knows me. I’d rather work myself to death than do something that leaves me vulnerable to her—or anyone else.
Since I’d dreamed about Ben and his catalog on Sunday, I wasn’t surprised when the boat dealer’s email arrived Wednesday morning. It was almost like he’d sensed exactly how hopelessly trapped I’d managed to get myself. I had never seen such a chaotic, fucked-up mess of a project in my life.
At first I just sat there scrolling up and down the pages in disbelief. Then I burst into helpless tears. Then I checked the deadline. Then I cried even harder. Then I drank two large gin and tonics and kept crying.
Calling Adele or Mark would’ve been nice, but I wasn’t in the mood for either lectures or sexual propositions.
Then Grumpy popped into my head. That little asshole who probably thinks we spend our days sitting around scratching our asses while he does some incredibly important, indispensable work. Then I remembered something else too: after Mark managed to make things even worse, I probably wouldn’t be going anywhere near the pharmacy for months.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Yeah. This exhausted, wrecked face right here.
This is what you’re jealous of?
Is this what makes you feel better?
Knowing life doesn’t exactly treat other people gently either?
Asshole.
I went down to the pharmacy wearing slippers, sweatpants, and a stretched-out T-shirt. Karma immediately got to work, because I ended up stuck in a ridiculously long line.
“What can I help you with?” he asked coldly—painfully coldly—like he’d never seen me before.
“I can’t sleep. Do you maybe have some kind of calming tea or something?”
“Tea or something?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why can’t you sleep? Are you in pain?”
“Two coworkers dropped out, and I took on their work too. I don’t have a single day off for the next six months.”
His eyes dropped to the counter. His fingers tapped impatiently against it.
“I see. So… are you in pain?”
“No,” I whispered, my voice catching.
He turned sharply and headed toward the far end of the shelves. He crouched down, pulled open a large drawer, and started digging through it. After inspecting what he’d found, he slowly walked back over. Then he placed the tea blend in front of me.
“Lemon balm. This should help. Anything else I can get you?”
Yeah, I thought. Maybe a little sympathy. A little kindness wouldn’t kill you either.
“No, thank you.”
“Great.”
I was already boiling water when a thought suddenly twisted my stomach into knots:
What if I’d run into Karate Dad? I laughed. I don’t even know his name. Jesus Christ, had that really not mattered until now? How much longer are we planning on calling each other Karate Instructor and Magic Girl? The smile slowly faded from my face. His kids popped into my head. Do I really want to become some horrible evil stepmother?
No matter how hard I tried to push the thought away, sad little boys and girls danced through my mind. Accusing looks. Tears. Okay. Their mother is alive. I wouldn’t actually be a stepmother. But then what would I be? The other woman? Oh, shit. The little boy is five. Kindergarten. The little girl just started first grade. Bedtime stories.
I pressed my hand to my temple. Jesus Christ, I’m such an idiot. Why the hell did I have to throw myself at him? I grabbed the gin to pour another drink, but thankfully some subconscious brake kicked in and stopped me.
No matter how much crap had landed on me lately, I had to focus. I had to keep going. Just a few more months. Then I’d have all the time in the world to obsess over stupid things.
The lemon balm tea actually helped me sleep a lot better. I increased my squat sessions to thirty at a time, but I still kept avoiding walks. Even though I’d love to finally go sit by the river for a while. The weather’s beautiful. Just lie down somewhere, listen to birds chirping, feel the warmth of the sun on my face…
*
Mark called this morning.
“Can I come up and pee at your place?”
For a second I thought I’d misheard him.
“What?”
“What?”
“I’m about to burst, and I just dropped Sofia off at emergency dental care. Come on, let me up!”
I still couldn’t process what was happening.
“Doesn’t the clinic have a bathroom?”
“Are you serious right now?” he snapped, offended.
“I just don’t get it…”
“What don’t you get? Why I didn’t get out in front of the clinic where there’s never any parking and walk my fully grown girlfriend inside holding her hand?”
I didn’t dare ask why he hadn’t peed before leaving home like every normal human being.
“Fine,” I gave in. “Okay.”
I cracked the door open, then sat back down at my computer.
A few minutes later, though, he called again.
“Please come downstairs, the code isn’t working!”
“What do you mean it isn’t working?”
“I don’t know, but I seriously can’t hold it anymore!” he yelled into my ear.
A red haze flooded my brain.
I just wanted to get to Mark as fast as possible so I could tell him exactly where to shove it for not leaving me alone.
I stormed down the stairs. The elevator didn’t even cross my mind. But the second I saw him through the glass—miserable and desperate—I instantly felt sorry for him. He was pacing in front of the entrance with a twisted expression on his face. I let him in.
He rushed past me and hit the elevator button. The doors were almost closed when Karate Dad suddenly appeared out of nowhere, dragging the two kids behind him, and jumped inside.
The doors had barely shut when he suddenly pulled a crumpled business card out of his pocket and held it out to me, his face burning bright red.
“You asked me the other day where I teach. Weren’t you the one who said you wanted to bring your son?” he stammered.
I snatched it out of his hand like I was afraid someone might snatch it away from me.
“Oh. Yeah, yeah. Thanks,” I babbled.
Fucking elevators.
Way too fast.
*
“So who exactly does this idiot think you are?” Mark chuckled after coming out of the bathroom.
I shrugged and lowered my head so he wouldn’t see my face. It burned so much it almost hurt.
“How would I know?”
“Still pretty funny that you took it,” he grinned. “He’s gonna lose his mind when he runs into whoever it was actually meant for.”
He patted my shoulder, kissed my forehead, then slipped back into his shoes. By the time I snapped out of it, he was already gone.
He really had just come to use the bathroom.
He really hadn’t wanted to bother me.
I really am awful for always assuming the worst.
But the business card…It might actually be the cutest thing in the world. How many days had he been carrying it around in his pocket for it to get this worn?
His name is Ryan.
And now I know his phone number too.