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“I’m a delight,” I tell him.
Besides, he hasn’t seen dirty yet.
As we order our lunch and step to the side to wait for it, he wraps his arm casually around my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re my friend, Cricket.”
I lean against his shoulder, relishing in the comfort he provides, as I reply, “I’m glad you’re my friend, Rueben.”
***
We arrive back at the hotel, exhausted, yet energized, still buzzing from the Salukis’ big win and the sugary Swedish Fish.
After we ate our Chicago hotdogs, we decided to head over to a different section of Alumni and visit with fellow classmates a little. Mostly, we both just wanted away from Danny and Ellen. Rueben ran into Dylan again, and they quietly carried on a conversation. I bumped into a small group of ladies from my communications class, so I spent the rest of the game catching up with them. In fact, Jenna and Bridget invited me to have a drink with them before the alumni dinner this evening, which I accepted.
Rueben and I make our way into the elevator, hands touching ever so slightly as I press the button and wait for the car to move. “Today was fun,” I say, watching the number creep up and stop on four.
When the elevator door opens, he waits for me to exit before he steps off the car. “It was fun,” he confirms as I approach our door and wait for him to use the keycard to open it.
Stepping into the room, the cooler air conditioning hits my arms, prickly goosebumps peppering my exposed flesh. I set my wristlet down on the bed. “I was invited to go have a few pre-dinner drinks with Bridget and Jenna from comm class. We studied together on Wednesday nights through senior year. Do you remember them?”
Rueben tosses his keycard and wallet onto the dresser and turns to face me. “Yeah. Those were two of the women you were visiting with at the end of the game, right?”
“Yes, that’s them. What do you think? Do you want to go have drinks before the alumni do-hicky?” I ask, plopping down on the bed and flopping on my back.
“That sounds good. I was invited to go meet with Dylan for a little bit. I could go meet him now and then come back and shower and go with you for drinks.”
Rolling to my side, I face my friend. “That could work. I’ll get showered and ready while you’re gone.”
Rueben lies back and stares up at the ceiling. “Sounds good. I’m not sure how long my meeting will take, but I don’t think too long. He actually wants to do a conference call with his boss.”
“On a Saturday afternoon?”
Rueben turns onto his side, resting his head on his palm. “The government doesn’t sleep, Crick.”
My eyes widen. “Dylan works for the government?”
“Apparently so. He didn’t give me a lot of information to go on, but he swears it’s legit. That’s why he wants to do the conference call. He could probably tell I was a little skeptical at first.”
“As you should be. But the government? That’s pretty bad ass, Rueben.”
“Yeah, I suppose. I’m pretty spoiled right now. I only have to go to Chicago once or twice a year, and working from home is pretty awesome. They pay good money, too. I’m not sure I’m looking for a change.”
I shrug awkwardly, considering my head is resting in my palm. “Doesn’t hurt to talk to him though, right? Maybe you won’t like their offer, but maybe you will.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” His brown eyes stare straight into me. “So, what are you going to do about your job? I hate to think of you as unhappy there, Crick. If that’s not the job you want, then go find the one you do.”
I sigh. “I know. I think I stay because it’s comfortable, you know? When I first moved to San Francisco, that job was the only piece of the mess that was still mine. I had to break my lease on the first apartment because I knew I couldn’t afford it solo. My dad had to drive me out there, help me find an even smaller studio that was within my measly budget. He bought me a car that was just old enough to not cost a fortune but wouldn’t nickel and dime me yet. I worked at a late-night pizzeria to help offset the starting minimum wage I was being paid. But through all of that, I had the job, the station, and their support. It wasn’t long before I was promoted from afternoon and evening assistant production work to the morning show, and from there, production director.”
“You did what you had to do, clawed your way from the bottom, and made a name for yourself. I’m proud of you, Crick.”
“Thanks. It wasn’t easy, and believe me, there were plenty of times I almost packed up and came home.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Listen, I’m not telling you to quit your job. I’m just saying to think about it. Think about where you’re at and where you see yourself in five years. Ten years. Don’t stay if it’s not what makes you happy. Life’s too short to be anything but.”
His words reverb in my brain.Life’s too short to be anything but happy.Does my job make me truly happy? No. It hasn’t in a long time. I’ve known that, but refused to really look at it. Now, the trick is going to be figuring out what that is and where I go from here. Do I quit my job and find something new? Go back to the production room, starting over again at the bottom? Or stay where I am because it’s stable and the bills are paid?
