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She’d spent the whole weekend alone in her apartment, trying to ignore the sounds of Jonathan moving around next door. Trying not to wonder what he was doing, or whether he was thinking about her. What he was thinking about her.
Instead of wallowing in self-pity, Esther had distracted herself by tackling a long overdue wardrobe purge. By Sunday night, she had a garbage bag full of old clothes earmarked for donation, and her closet looked like it had been set upon by a pack of obsessive-compulsives, right down to the spectrum of color-sorted shirts. It was so beautiful, she actually considered taking a picture and submitting it to Apartment Therapy.
But then she heard Jonathan’s coffee grinder fire up next door, and spent the rest of the night on the couch eating cheese until she felt sick.
Now it was Monday and she was back in the land of the living, sitting at her desk in a form-fitting sheath dress and fancy shoes, feeling like an imposter. As a result of her closet purge, and in an effort to break out of her funk, she’d vowed to start dressing up more for work. Dress for the job you want, like the career counselors advised. One area of her life might be a dumpster fire, but she could at least focus on improving another area. Maybe if she made an effort to dress and act more professionally at work, she’d get more respect.
Only this form-fitting dress she was wearing had fit her form a lot better two years ago when it was new. Not only was it uncomfortably tight across the bust and hips, but it kept trying to ride up dangerously high on her thighs. It was also itchier than she remembered, which was probably why it had been buried in the back of her closet. Instead of feeling like a confident, grown-up career woman, Esther felt like a squirmy kid chafing in her Sunday best. Total professional dressing fail.
“What’s wrong with you?” Yemi asked. “You look weird today.”
“Thanks,” she muttered irritably. So much for New Improved Work Esther.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Do you have an interview?”
“No, I’m just trying to dress a little nicer.”
“Why?”
“No reason, apparently.” She tugged her skirt down for the one thousandth time that morning. “What time do you want to do lunch?”
“Um.” Yemi’s shoulders hunched as his eyes skated away.
“What’s wrong?”
“Why do you assume something’s wrong?”
“You’re making your turtle face.”
“I’m not—I don’t have a turtle face.”
“Yes, you do. Whenever you don’t want to do something, your head starts trying to retract into your body like a turtle. What don’t you want to do?”
He pressed his lips into an expression that might have been intended as a smile, but looked more like a rictus of pain. “I told Jinny I’d eat lunch with her today.”
“Oh.” Esther felt like someone had pulled her chair out from under her as she was about to sit down.
Yemi looked miserable. “I’m sorry if—”
“No. Don’t be.” She shook her head. “You should have lunch with Jinny.” They were work friends too. The three of them had been eating lunch together for the better part of a year. It wasn’t like Esther had a monopoly on Yemi.
“Are you sure?” He was clearly having a hard time with this. Navigating interpersonal drama made him uncomfortable. It wasn’t exactly Esther’s favorite pastime either.
“It’s fine,” she told him, trying to sound more sincere.
Yemi looked down at his shoes. “There’s something else I should probably tell you.”
Esther watched him squirm and waited for the other shoe to drop. Whatever it was, he really didn’t want to have to say it.
“Jinny asked me out last week. We’re sort of…dating, I guess.”
“Oh. Wow. That’s—wow.” Esther couldn’t form a better response. She should be happy for them. She should be ecstatic. Two weeks ago, she would have been jumping up and down at the news. She would have thrown them a party to celebrate. Now she just felt emptier than before. Abandoned.
Yemi’s mouth turned down unhappily. “This is weird, I know.”
“It’s not,” Esther said, doing a poor job of selling it. “It’s great.” It was great. “I’m happy for you both.” She was trying to be, anyway.
“You should really talk to her.”
