Page 7 of Tell Me What you Think

"I don't know what you mean," Olga murmurs.

"That you never tried. When your head is clear and you look at this with fresh eyes, you'll realize it wasn't that hard — that all it would've taken was one moment of courage to ask her out, and by not doing it you'll never know what she would've said."

"Come on, Silvia. You and I both know Marina is into men, and even if she weren't, a woman like her would never look twice at someone like me. We're on completely different levels. She's ambitious, she pushes back, she loves responsibility, taking on challenges, managing people — and what I love is managing someone's schedule, keeping my head down, looking after one person without any more responsibility than staying one step ahead of what they need."

"That doesn't make you incompatible, just different. And you're not less than her or less than anyone. We all know Ricard is a walking disaster and the only reason he's lasted in that job this long is because you've been there handling everything he forgets."

"Maybe you're right, but you're forgetting that by now Marina probably thinks I'm an idiot. Do you have any idea how many times I've turned red or tripped over my words in front of her?"

"I think that's endearing." Silvia shrugs, brushing off each of her friend's excuses the way she's been doing for almost two years — ever since Olga confessed everything after a happy hour that stretched too long and left them both a little worse for wear.

Silvia considers herself an empathetic person, but she finds her friend's attitude genuinely hard to understand — because being scared of rejection is one thing, which she knows is really what's going on with Olga, and spending two years sighing over a woman without finding a single moment of courage, even just to test the waters, is another thing entirely. More than once she's thought about stepping in herself. She has no real relationship with Marina — everything between them is strictly professional — but Marina is warm and grounded, the kind of person you can talk to about anything, and the only reason Silvia hasn't said something yet is fear of losing Olga's friendship.

"You think it's endearing because you love me," Olga says with a small laugh, "but Marina doesn't know me. All she gets is the version of me I turn into when she's around, which is basically a tomato with a mouth that can't get through two sentences without choking."

Silvia bursts out laughing at that, then looks at her with warmth. She wishes she could do more than just listen — give her a little push, or engineer some situation that would help her take the leap — but Olga is who she is: withdrawn, private, and indecisive, and until she feels ready on her own, no one can do it for her.

"All right, then. Let's drink to forgetting her fast so you can get out there and sleep with a couple of women who'll leave you satisfied and clear-headed."

The color that rises in Olga's cheeks is the same she'd get if Marina herself were sitting across from her, because for the past two years her mind has connected everything to do with women and sex to the regional director, and sometimes she imagines things — very interesting things — that steal her breath and make her underwear damp.

"For God's sake, stop thinking dirty thoughts about her," Silvia laughs, watching the near-purple shade spread across her cheeks and neck.

The times she sees her like this are the only times she can truly grasp how much her friend is struggling, and the kind of emotional paralysis that woman sets off in her.

"You think I'm a coward, don't you?" Olga asks, raising a hand to flag down another round.

"Coward isn't the word I'd use for you, because I know Marina is a lot to handle — but I do think not trying anything isn't the smartest call." Silvia's eyes go wide all at once and start to shine like two headlights in the dark. "What if you told her in writing?" she offers, lit up with what she clearly believes is the perfect solution. "You leave a note in her—"

"Absolutely not, I'm not doing that. An unsigned note is the same as nothing, and if I can't say it to her face I'm not saying it in writing either — I think it would be worse, actually. I'd die of anxiety waiting for her reaction the next time I ran into her."

"You're right. Okay, fine. Operation Marina Cardona: aborted."

Silvia raises the fresh beer that's just been set in front of her, and Olga picks hers up and does the same — but for a moment she hesitates before they clink glasses, as if closing the door on Marina once and for all, and part of her feels a deep, hollow ache at the thought.

"Operation aborted," she whispers at last, touching her glass to Silvia's and feeling like a complete coward all the same.

After showering and eating a sandwich with a soda while watching an episode of the new show she's gotten hooked on, Olga clears the table and settles onto the couch with her laptop balanced on her legs. She opens a new email addressed to the HR manager and starts drafting her request for the floor transfer, effective Monday.

She knows exactly what she needs to say, and in barely five minutes she has three short paragraphs laying out her reasons for the transfer. She obviously leaves out the part about being in love with one of her supervisors and frames it as a desire to explore other departments because she's looking to grow in a new direction.

The email is polished, professional, and impossible to turn down. She also knows that if it came to it, Ricard would back her up if she asked him to.

She reads it through one more time to make sure there are no mistakes, hovers the cursor over the send button — and her finger doesn't move. At the last second she closes the laptop, telling herself it's fine, she can send it tomorrow.

Chapter 4

"Why is it so hot in here?" Marina asks, stopping in front of one of the desks in the HR department, addressing the personnel manager.

Núria, a woman in her fifties who has been with the company long enough to know every single employee by name, looks up with a grin because she recognized Marina's voice before she even saw her.

"It's a strategy to make sure people like you"—Núria stands and walks around the desk—"people who just keep moving up, spend as little time down here as possible."

Marina laughs and gives her a quick hug after they exchange cheek kisses.

"Congratulations, by the way," Núria tells her.

"Thanks."