“Totally. What are your weekend plans?”
“Me? Oh, I... um...” Where do I begin? Hiding in my apartment with my dog and avoiding human contact is pretty much the opposite of Jasleen’s perfect life.
“Hey, since you’re not busy, you should come work out with me! I mean to Pilates, not the 10k, you wouldn’t keep up.” She smirks. “But Pilates you should definitely do. Having a weak core is detrimental to your spine health, and it only gets worse as you age.”
I blink several times, too stunned to respond. I mean, she’s right. But seriously?
Thankfully, we’re interrupted by Ebele. Her hair is cut short to her scalp, accentuating her high cheekbones, long lashes, and full lips. Her umber skin is highlighted with metallic-blue shadow, matching her well-tailored pantsuit. Jasleen and I both straighten in her presence and offer polite greetings.
“Aubrey. Jasleen. Boardroom in ten. I want to go over all your work from the past week so we can plan for next.” Ebele was born in Nigeria but went to private schools in England before emigrating to Canada and graduating with a degree from Dartmouth University, and with her mixed accent she could make a killing moonlighting as an audiobook narrator. Just as quickly as Ebele arrived she sweeps away, disappearing into her office and shutting the door behind her.
“Well,” Jasleen says with a coy tilt to her head, “I’m excitedto hear about your plans. You always come up with... interesting ideas.”
Before I can think of a witty retort she’s gone, and the coffee in my mug isn’t the only thing leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
The boardroom meeting lasts the better part of two hours. Jasleen’s, Linda’s, and Samantha’s ideas are all fabulous; they’ve had productive weeks and made grand plans for the days ahead. My business degree rounds out the team, sure, but when it comes to being creative and building my own schedule I’m still getting the hang of things. For my part, I decide to canvas local businesses for funding to tide us over while we’re still waiting on a large government grant to be able to implement our programs on a large scale.
After the meeting I meander back to my desk, a plain office whose only view is that of a crowded parking lot and overflowing garbage bin, and collapse into my chair. From a chaotic and stressful night that ended in a hospital visit, to bringing little to the table in that meeting where everyone else had great ideas, to listening to Jasleen’s perfect weekend plans, and topped off with that backhanded exercise comment that sent me straight back to high school, I’m ready to go home.
Painful memories of my past resurface so vividly that I can smell Axe body spray permeating the air of the overly lit hallways. I can hear the cacophony of lockers slamming, shoes squeaking, and conversations echoing as students shuffle their way to and from class in hordes. It’s like it was yesterday: cliques forming, alliances shifting, lifelong friendships ending, mean girls hiding cruelty in their compliments and spreading rumours at every turn. I thought I’d escaped all that nonsense, but it’s like nothing has changed at all.
“Aubrey!” A kind voice snaps me out of my reverie.
I blink several times and turn to find Linda and Samantha poking their heads around my door. “Oh. Hey! Hi.” I clear my throat.
“You okay, hon?” Linda asks.
“Yeah, you seem sad,” Samantha agrees.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
But the pair must be too in tune with my aura for them to buy it. “What happened?” Samantha steps inside and sits on the edge of my desk, assuming a motherly role that comes as naturally to her as opening someone’s root chakra.
“Oh nothing. Just a had a long, stressful night.”
The pair eye me, waiting for me to elaborate.
I concede with a sigh. “I had a bad date.”
“Aw, honey.”
“Poor thing!”
“What happened?”
I wave my hand dismissively. “I really don’t want to get into it. Let’s just say hell would freeze over before I got a second date with that guy.” The little-known fifth horseman of the apocalypse: Aubrey gets a boyfriend!
Linda tsks. “You should let us set you up! My son, Topher, is still single, you know.”
Samantha agrees. “I have two eligible sons. Fraternal twins! You can take your pick between the rugby player and the guitarist.”
“As lovely as it would be to become one of your daughters-in-law, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I say. My social life is bad enough; the last thing I want is to poison what little joy I find at work with my stupid curse. “Thank you for offering. I mean it.”
“Just promise you won’t give up on love,” Linda commands, brows raising and accentuating all her wrinkles.
I can’t say that I already have. So instead, I smile and nod. “Of course. The one for me is out there. Somewhere.”
Samantha snaps her fingers. “You know what? I met the loveliest young man playing pickleball last weekend—Marjory’s boy. He was so kind! And a hell of a pickleball player. I know for a fact he’s single. I could set you up on a date with him!”
