Page 115 of Spring Break Fling

“How’s work, Hannah?” her mother asked.

I looked at Hannah and waited to see how she would answer the question.

“Not great,” Hannah said.

Hannah’s mother tilted her head, concern etching her features. “What’s wrong?”

Hannah sighed, her fingers absently tracing patterns on my knee. “Clarke gave my project—the one I’ve been working on for months—to Steven. Just passed it over like it was nothing.”

“Who’s Steven?” Marianne asked, leaning forward.

“Some guy who does the bare minimum,” Hannah explained. “I’ve been working late nights, weekends, putting everything into this pitch. And Clarke just hands it off like I’m some disposable intern.”

Her father, who had been quietly listening, spoke up. “Have you talked to HR?”

“And say what?” Hannah laughed bitterly. “That my boss is unfair? That’s career suicide in corporate America.”

Marianne snorted. “Sounds like bullshit.”

“Language,” her mother chided automatically, but there was no real heat behind the reprimand.

I squeezed Hannah’s hand, feeling her tension. I knew how much this job meant to her, how hard she’d worked. Seeing her deflated like this made my blood boil.

“You’re worth more than that,” I said quietly.

Hannah’s father nodded, his weathered face serious. “Your mother and I always told you: know your worth. If they don’t recognize it, find somewhere that will.”

“It’s not that simple, Dad,” Hannah said, but I could see a spark of something, hope maybe, flickering in her eyes.

Her mother leaned forward. “Actually, it might be. You won’t know unless you try.”

“I know, but this is just part of the process. I have to pay my bills.”

“I don’t know why you’re putting up with that nonsense,” her mom said, cutting straight to the point. “You should quit and find something better.”

Her dad chimed in with a shrug. “Your mom’s right. Life’s too short to waste on people who don’t appreciate you.”

“And what, I’m supposed to just walk out and wing it?” she shot back, her tone sharper than before.

“You can’t run unless you learn to walk,” her mother said.

I cringed because I knew that was exactly what Hannah didn’t want to hear. She was a realist. That kind of thing didn’t have the same effect on her as it did on other people.

“You have to take chances,” her dad said.

“Can we not talk about this right now?” Hannah said with frustration.

An awkward silence followed, and Marianne quickly started talking about a new restaurant she ate at. I could feel Hannah pulling back into herself. I knew there was still some tension between her and her parents. I understood it. She still had some trust issues and I didn’t blame her.

“We should probably go,” her mother said after a while.

Hannah walked her family to the door, hugging each of them goodbye. Her mother whispered something in her ear that made her smile, and her father gave me a firm handshake before they left.

“Well,” Hannah said, turning to me after closing the door. “That wasn’t terrible.”

I chuckled. “Your family’s pretty cool.”

She rolled her eyes. “They mean well. But they don’t understand corporate politics. It’s not as simple as just quitting.”