If It Can Go Wrong, It Will
My week started with a tiny little “oops.” You know, the kind that makes you want to set your laptop on fire.
The project manager for the telecom account sent me a sugar-coated dressing-down. According to her, the quality of last week’s work was noticeably below my usual standard.
Excuse me?
No one has ever criticized my work before. And definitely not in a message the length of a novella.
Fine. They have no idea what I’m dealing with: a reduced workload, two SOS projects, a bitch of a boss, Ryan, and the kind of exhaustion that’s slowly killing me.
So I gave myself permission to wallow for a while. A full-blown crying session in the fetal position on the long side of my couch.
That bedspread Adele gave me turned out to be a surprisingly practical gift. At least only that ended up stained with mascara washed away by my tears instead of the pale lavender upholstery underneath.
I hadn’t even managed to work up the energy for a cool shower when Ryan texted me. His kids are sick, so he’s looking after them all week.
There went who knows how many more precious minutes of crying.
That miserable Monday was followed by an equally miserable week. This time my period arrived with brutal cramps, and my head felt like someone was trying to split it open from the inside. Running on even less sleep than usual and in a constant state of anxiety, I somehow had to squeeze top-quality work out of myself for the telecom project while working flat out on Ben’s catalogue at the same time.
By Thursday lunchtime I was running on fumes.
I was furious with myself.
With all of it.
Eventually I managed to calm the storm in my head by thinking about the money I’d earn for all this suffering. And everything I was going to buy with it. A three-dimensional epoxy floor for the bathroom. A double vanity. An elegant breakfast bar with matching stools…
Honestly, just writing that still gets me excited.
Naturally, my walks didn’t happen, and I officially excused myself from doing squats on account of female circumstances.
Instead, I occasionally comforted myself with cold peach juice. I honestly don’t know how this drink managed to stay out of my life for so long. It’s thick, sweet, and silky as it slides down my throat. Right now I can’t even imagine drinking alcohol or anything fizzy. That’s what shame and sexual deprivation will do to you.
Adele talked me into taking a couple of hours off and actually allowing myself the break. So we planned breakfast at my place for Saturday. Meet in the afternoon, and before you know it you’re still drinking wine and putting the world to rights at two in the morning.
Somehow my apartment has become the place where everyone relaxes most. Mark’s place is too modern and sterile. Sofia rents hers out now that she’s moved in with that idiot. Adele doesn’t even have a place of her own yet. And Dave simply isn’t one of us. For some reason, nobody ever wants to hang out at his place.
As always, Sofia outdid herself. One beautiful treat after another emerged from her thick canvas-lined picnic basket with its lid. Chilled chocolate milk in tall swing-top glass bottles. Freshly baked, fragrant croissants. Ripe strawberries tucked into paper towel-lined containers. If Mark ever dumps her, I’m dating her instead. I honestly can’t imagine a more caring partner.
Adele must have guessed Sofia would go all out again, so she put together a cheese board decorated with neatly rolled slices of Serrano ham, each pinned with a cocktail stick.
All I had to provide was the coffee machine.
“I swear, you girls are angels. Thank you,” I said.
“And what about me?” Mark protested. “I’m the one providing Sofia for all this.”
Adele and Sofia gasped in perfect unison.
“What am I, exactly?” Sofia squeaked.
Mark spread his arms theatrically.
“A successful veterinarian who’d be spending her days all alone without me.”
“In your opinion,” Sofia shot back.
“So which part is only my opinion? That business is booming? Or that you’d be consumed by loneliness without me?”
“The second one. Though I’m not entirely convinced about the first one either. It’s all a matter of perspective.”
Adele hissed through her teeth. Her fingers tightened around the knife she’d been about to use to butter her croissant.
Right.
Money.
That subject always hit a nerve with her.
“I saw the clinic’s price list the other day,” she said bitterly. “One month’s salary wouldn’t even cover a minor procedure at your place.”
“Until you pass your bar exam,” I reminded her.
“Yes, for fuck’s sake, until I pass my bar exam!” Adele snapped. “I know. You don’t have to remind me every single time.”
The kitchen fell silent.
Adele grabbed half her croissant, shoved the whole thing into her mouth in one determined movement, then chased it with a strawberry.
I watched her frozen in place. That little outburst could easily have ended in death by choking.
Looks like September’s bar exam is starting to feel a little too close.
We waited for her to survive swallowing it all. Slowly, cautiously, we started moving again. Bloody money. Why did anyone have to bring it up? Then again, it isn’t entirely fair that Adele keeps holding it over our heads.
Yes, getting established as a lawyer takes longer, but her future is going to be far brighter because of it. Especially if she keeps moving in political circles. Dave is already feeding her work—admittedly more as practice assignments than real cases. Once she opens her own practice, she’ll have a steady stream of clients. The lucrative kind.
Sofia spent years studying so she could treat exotic animals. Mark was already freelancing for software companies while he was still at university. As for me, this is the first time in my life I’ve actually been paid well for my work. And I’ve earned every cent of it. Fine. It’s my own fault I’m putting myself through this, but still. Adele knows exactly how completely burned out I’ve become in just a few weeks. It’s a little unfair that she keeps going on about her trainee salary.
Surprisingly, it was my chronically tactless friend who broke the tension. Mark simply pulled out the latest app he’d been working on. A menstrual tracking app. Needless to say, all three of our jaws hit the floor. Even Sofia had no idea that’s what he’d been developing. Apparently it’s going to be the best fertility planning app on the market.
Once the last crumb was gone and the chocolate milk bottles were empty, everyone started gathering their things without being asked. I was grateful. They spared me the awkward phase where I start dropping increasingly obvious hints before finally telling everyone outright that it’s time to leave.
Within a few minutes, Mark and Sofia were gone. Adele stayed behind, compulsively drying every last dish I’d washed. I gently rubbed her back.
“You really didn’t have to.”
She gave a brief shrug. Her jet-black hair shifted with the movement, brushing against her long neck.
“Oh, please. I wasn’t going to leave all this for you. You’ve got enough on your plate.”
I felt myself getting emotional, but swallowed any further thanks. With my nerves in the state they were in, I could easily have burst into tears all over again. Besides, after her outburst earlier, I wasn’t exactly convinced this would end with the two of us wrapped in a heartfelt hug. When Adele gets like this, it’s best to leave her alone. Exams. Court hearings. Work. Birthdays. Name days. Trips. Breaking up with Dave. Making up with Dave. I could go on.
Instead, I decided to steer the conversation somewhere a little lighter.
“Isn’t it crazy that of all people, Mark came up with a fertility planning app?” I said. “Wouldn’t it be funny if we actually ended up using it to get pregnant one day?”
Adele’s head dropped forward like a rag doll’s. Then, slowly, she lifted it again and turned toward me, almost as if she were moving in slow motion. By the time she was facing me, her eyes were blazing.
“A baby? You? You sleep with everyone. You’re incapable of settling down. You’ll never be a mother.”
My jaw hit the floor for the second time that day.
Not a sound came out of my mouth. I just gaped at her like a fish washed up on shore. Finally, I silently pointed toward the door. Without another word, Adele walked out.
Her words hit me like a punch to the chest. I had to get out. Out of the apartment. Out of the building.
I had no idea where my feet were taking me.
*
“Well, look who finally decided to show up.”
I flinched at Grumpy’s voice.
I stared blankly at the pharmacist behind the counter. I have no idea how I ended up in the pharmacy instead of down by the river. To steady myself, I pressed my palms against the cold marble countertop.
“What?” I said blankly.
He pulled a box from the pocket of his white coat, gave it a shake, and set it down in front of me.
“Vitamins. Haven’t seen you in a while. Figured if you’re not leaving that apartment, your body could use a little support. They’re on me. Take one or two a day. Even my grandmother looks more refreshed than you do. So… what brings you here?”
“I… honestly don’t know,” I muttered. “Band-Aids, I guess.”
And he really did toss the vitamins into the bag with the Band-Aids.
The fact that even Grumpy seemed to be malfunctioning finally pulled the rug out from under me.