And now you will be gone nearly a week.
It took all of her self-control not to scream into her phone in all caps and ten exclamation marks. Instead, she replied with a dry, “For Christmas.”
Julie
And how many Christmases do you think I spent with my family before I made partner, Grace?
The rhetorical nature of the question was obvious. Grace didn’t respond before Julie texted again.
Julie
These things are noticed, Grace. When it’s time to discuss equity partners, they won’t remember all the years of effort and sacrifice you put into this. They’ll only see where you’ve failed to demonstrate dedication and commitment. Becoming a partner has been so important to you. I hope this isn’t a misguided attempt for my attention, but if it is, you have it. And I don’t want you to throw away what you’ve worked for.
Grace stared at her screen while too many emotions warred for control of her thumbs. Rage that Julie was accusing her of harming her own career for her attention.Attention?Frustration that she could never tell Julie exactly what she was thinking. That she couldn’t ask why Julie cared more about Grace’s fucking job than she ever had about her heart.
But there was an odd feeling brewing in her gut. Bubbling and churning and making her lip curl. Not a feeling. A question. A doubt springing from the crack in her iron-clad drive. Did she want this? Want a life where her work took up all the room, and all she had were frayed margins to share with friends and family and… love?
She couldn’t blame a new wave of nausea on her neighbor’s chemical bomb. For the first time in her life, those ratios seemedwrong. Living for work rather than working to live felt perverse somehow.
Foundation crumbling under her feet, she reached blindly for her purpose. Professional success wasn’t just about her ego. It wasn’t even about her. Achievement was how she showed her mother that working two jobs as a single mom to send Grace to a private school she could hardly afford had been worth it.
She owed it to the grandparents she never met. The ones who’d taken a desperate risk and sent their eleven-year-old daughter alone to be raised by American nuns in Miami to give her a chance at a bountiful life. Her grandfather had died while a political prisoner, and her grandmother had suffered a fatal heart attack before Grace learned to walk.
Was she dishonoring all that sacrifice by jeopardizing her hard-won place at the firm? The backs of her eyes burned, and she wished for a fast-forward button. Some way to know whether she was making a huge mistake. Whether it was selfish to chase someone who felt so good. Whether letting generational hopes slip off her unworthy shoulders.
They were at cruising altitude, even if the constant turbulence meant no one was coming by with a little bottle of vodka to help Grace drown her anxiety, when her phone buzzed in her lap. She was almost too tired to check it. She didn’t want to see Julie’s name. Didn’t want to fear having thrown away years of work. But her hand moved reflexively.
Alix’s face popped up on her screen. A photo of her standing in a packed airplane aisle. Freshly cut, wavy hair messy in that sexy, intentional way only Alix could manage. It was so obvious she was smiling, even with half her face covered by a mask. The unseen dimples burned into Grace’s chest and paused her existential crisis.
Alix
That message took so long to go through! My Holiday Flight Bingo Card had: crying baby, woman doing lunges in the aisle mid-flight (bonus points because she also took her shoes off), drink cart slammed into my knee, and a man screaming over FaceTime the entire time we were boarding (he briefly mentioned a bone spur he’s having removed, which also feels like double points). I know it’s early to declare victory, but I’m pretty sure I’ve got this in the bag.
She couldn’t stop herself from responding, just like she couldn’t wrestle her smile into submission. She glanced to her right before responding.
Grace
I might take the whole board with this one: Heavily seasoned hard-boiled eggs directly next to me. HEAVILY SEASONED.
Alix
Noooooo
Grace
Oh, yeah.
Alix
What the hell is wrong with people?
Alix
T-minus three hours, fourteen minutes, and six seconds until you land. I hope your sinuses aren’t blown out.
Grace
I’m not sure if I’ve gone nose-blind, or if the smell has just chemically bonded to my skin.
