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Instead of working at my desk amid the hostility, I take the case files and hang with Jane. And by hang, I mean that I work while she types away at her computer.
All the time, I can’t stop thinking about the scene I saw in the parking lot. The synergy between them, the laughs and smiles, and I clink my nails against each other so hard, I break one.
Then I accidentally get a paper cut and my thumb bleeds, and it’s supposed to hurt, but I don’t feel the pain. Because the real pain is banging on the walls of my ribcage.
So I review the case files.Allof them. That’s what I do when I’m stressed. I enter high-functioning mode.
And I needed to finish them so I could see him again. I couldn’t just go to his office without having done my work. But now, I have.
So I reorganize the files and the Post-it Notes I made for each detail that could be used as a weakness, as well as my observations through some research I did myself and any advanced research I asked Jane to help with.
I’m feeling confident when I’m carrying them to his office. I did a great job.
My phone vibrates and I juggle the files in one hand and check the text with the other.
Chris:Hey, stranger.
I clink my nails under the papers. After everything that happened over the last couple of weeks, I kind of ghosted my college friends, Chris included. He came by the house soon after Dad’s accident and I told him I needed time to wrap my head around things.
And I did.
The result is that I can’t keep dragging him into my mess anymore. I guess I was just too hopeful when I thought he could make me forget.
I realize now that no one can.
So I type with one hand.
Me:Hey! Sorry I haven’t been around.
Chris:And here I thought you forgot about me.
Me:I haven’t. We need to talk.
Chris:Now?
Me:In a bit.
Chris:Where are you?I’ll pick you up.
Me:I’ll send you the address.
He really doesn’t need to since I have my car, but I forget all about that because I’m in front of Nate’s office and I have all the work done.
So I send him my current location and hide the phone.
“Miss Shaw,” Nate’s assistant, Grace, greets me. She’s a middle-aged woman with a kind smile that I’ve always found heartwarming.
“Is Nate in there? I finished the case files and I think I have solid footing on some weaknesses.”
“He went home for the day.”
“He…what?”
“He went out for lunch and said he wouldn’t be coming back for the rest of the day. I’ll hand them to him tomorrow morning.”
The world starts spinning and it takes superhuman control to place the files on Grace’s desk.
I didn’t hear it wrong.
