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“Hilde Klunt, ma'am,” she said.
“Please don't call me ma'am,” I insisted.
“Sorry, I'm just nervous, and when I'm nervous I default to formalities. Would you rather I call you Anna?” she offered.
“Definitely not Anna, considering my name is Anya,” I corrected.
She winced. My stomach winced in turn. It felt like kicking a puppy, hurting her.
I resolved to do it less.
I said graciously, “It's alright, Hilde, please do call me Anya, or ma'am if it makes you comfortable. I kind of like it. Makes me feel mature. Like I'm in charge or something silly like that.”
She looked at me with utter shock at my little joke. “Anya, of course you're in charge! You're a hugely important President at the most successful company in Silicon Valley! I can't even imagine how it feels to be in your shoes. Your parents must be so proud. Mine are just proud I'm using my English degree on a good paying, corporate job.”
“I studied English, too,” I told her, which was the truth.
She beamed. “I knew we'd have a ton in common,” she said with assurance.
Every smile felt like it was full of sunshine. Her hair reflected the sunlight's rays in a way that made them even more beautiful. In fact, she was a smooth mirror, reflecting the best of those around her so they could see themselves in a better light.
That was what I saw in her, right away. She herself was a smooth pool, for all her fluttering anxiety. An inner calm pervaded when she moved, something that only came from being a decent person who thought others were generally decent, as well.
I hadn't known anyone like her before. She made me uncomfortable.
Because what if she was wrong? What if I wasn't decent?
