“Yeah.” Greg sounds so tired. “Much worse than the last one.”
Time slows, and I’m very aware of everyone I spend most of my waking hours with, watching us from the tables.
Al is peering over here sadly, and my chest tightens at the idea of him losing his job. Carol and Morgan are whispering to each other. Sarah’s arms are wrapped around her middle like she has a stomachache. From the seat beside her, Grace fromSales puts an arm around her shoulders, and as Sarah leans into her, Grace plants a light kiss on the top of her head.
Wait.Love, G?
So much for my psychic link with Greg! I read this situation completely wrong.
Greg is standing with his arms crossed in front of me, and my heart hurts, thinking about him being unemployed and Tita Wendy having to worry about their mortgage payments, after they already lost their house once.
“Look, I’m not going to tell Mark Winterson anything.” My eyes dart between Greg and the group at the tables, sizing me up. “I’ve been trying to break up with him.”
“You have?” Greg says with sudden enthusiasm.
“You’ve beentrying?” Carol from Legal arches an eyebrow. She seems out of place in this diner, with her sleek blond bob and black pin-striped pantsuit, her short pumps and skeptical expression. She has a permanent let-me-speak-to-the-manager voice going on.
“Yeah, he’s been…hard to pin down recently.” My heart seems to beat louder and louder, the longer I stand in front of everyone. And a wild idea starts to form in my head. “Maybe I could help you.”
Morgan turns in her seat, peering at me curiously.
“I…found some weird stuff at Mark Winterson’s house,” I say. “It seems like something strange is going on.”
“Strange, like…?” Sarah says.
“Financially?” I laugh nervously. “Like…is this a crime?”
Morgan’s eyes widen. Carol’s jaw drops. Greg looks like he’s seen a ghost.
“It’s that thing you were talking about—” Sarah starts, turning to Greg.
“We’ve already told her enough!” Steve the Project Manager cuts in. “How do we know we can trust her?”
“Let her finish,” Greg says firmly. “I’ve known her my whole life, okay? If you trust me, you can trust her.”
“Sorry to interrupt!” A woman with an apron around her hips and a pad in hand comes by. “Are we ready?”
Morgan picks up a menu, but Carol cuts her off, orders enough fries for the whole table, and gives the waitress a tight smile that says,Please leave now.
“Ruby?” Carol prompts. “What are you suggesting?”
Adam from Accounting pulls out an empty chair, gesturing for me to sit. So I do, scooting in nervously.
“Maybe I could put off breaking up with him for a couple weeks. And try to notice what I can, in the meantime. And tell you about it. Maybe get you something you can use.”
I glance at Greg, still standing behind me, looking skeptical and confused.
The list of my self-limiting beliefs that Trisha made me write is running through my head:
I am selfish
I am lazy
I am a mess
Maybe I can accept myself. Use my inertia, be selfish and messy for a good cause.
“I mean, lord knows I’ve stayed in relationships past their expiration date before,” I add. Around the table, that gets a couple nervous laughs. “Maybe I can put that to good use. I got myself into a weird situation, but…maybe I can use it to help you guys out, before I extract myself from it.”
