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“I do,” she said, and Samantha thought she was lying. “But not till seven. Let’s go have a drink first.”
“No, thank you.” Samantha tried to get around her again, but she blocked her for a second time. “Miranda, what are you doing?” She was really ratcheting her obnoxiousness up a notch.
Miranda laughed shrilly. “Denise, what do you suppose is going on with our little Samantha here?”
Ourlittle Samantha? Since when?
“I don’t know.” It was obvious Denise didn’t know what Miranda was talking about either.
Miranda folded her arms across her chest. “You’ve changed. What gives?”
She was not having this conversation. Not now. Not with them. “Miranda, I’m tired. I want to go home. Would you please excuse me?”
“No. Come have a drink with us. It will perk you right up.” She pivoted and linked her arm through Samantha’s as if they were best gal pals.
Samantha ripped her arm away from her. “No!” she said forcefully.
“Why not?” Miranda screeched. “What is your problem?”
“Miranda,” Denise said, sounding worried.
Miranda ignored her. “Is it the man? Who is he?”
“What?” Samantha said. What did Brent have to do with anything?
“You’ve changed. Something’s different. Is it him?”
Denise came closer.
“I don’t know. I guess so.” She started toward the door.
“Okay then,” Miranda called after her. “When he dumps you, and you go back to being normal miserable depressed Samantha, we’ll be right here waiting for you.”
The words pushed her out the door. Her cheeks burned from the heat of them. She hurried to her car, trying to process. She fumbled with the keys, made sure not to peel out this time, and drove a block before pulling over and getting a grip.
Whathad that been?Normal miserable depressed Samantha?That’s what they thought of her? That’s who she was? No. That’s who she’d been? Not really. But that’s who they wanted her to be. That’s who theyneededher to be.
And suddenly, she could see herself sitting there behind her counter, quiet, all tucked in to her misery. She was floating there above the room, looking down on the last two years. And there were Miranda and Denise, flitting around, giggling and flirting with lawyers, poking fun at her and then inviting her out for drinks.
It was all so clear. They needed her to make them feel better about their miserable selves.
And when she wasn’t miserable, it made it harder for them to ignore how miserable they really were.
She felt sick.
She needed a new job.
She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Please get me home, God.” Then she checked her mirrors and pulled back out into traffic. She was going to stop thinking about it and just do it. She was going to send out some resumes tonight.
Maybe that would distract her from worrying about Brent.
