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“Oh also—no more shots on the clock when you’re the boss.”
“Got it,” I say over my shoulder, and head back towards the bar. See? I knew I was in trouble.
Work continues to be slow enough for me to ruminate on our conversation and the possibility of being ‘the boss’. Never having been the boss of anything, it’s such an abstract construct. I could do the job. I’m not worried about that. I look around at my co-workers, my work friends, and try to picture myself ordering them around, and wonder if they’d even listen to me. What if they did take advantage of me? Habitually showing up late, wandering off on their shifts. And then what would I do? My instinct as a co-worker would be that it wasn’t personal, and that I should probably just take on as much of their jobs as I can to make it easier on everyone else, and that’s exactly what I couldn’t do if I wanted to be a successful manager. I also wondered if I were to becomeRuby the Manager, then what would happen toRuby the Writer? Am I officially giving up on her? A lot of the time, it feels like I should—at least from a logistical standpoint—but it’s simultaneously impossible to swallow. I only have this one dream, this one thing that I’m almost good at, and even I don’t believe in it.
When I finally get home that night, I text Evie and tell her about the being helpful versus being a doormat comment to see if she thinks it applies to me. I don't tell her about the job offer. Evie had the job that I wanted, so it has always been hard to talk to her about work. I wasn’t jealous, because it wasn’t that she didn’t deserve it, and it wasn’t like she had ever made me feel like I was less than, it was just that I felt like I deserved it, too.
I watch her text bubble for a long time before she finally replies:I don’t know, Ruby. I don’t think you’re a doormat. I think you’re tough. Maybe a lot of what other people see as weakness or giving in is just fights that you realize aren’t worth it because you’ve had real struggles that they haven’t. But also, I think that you would benefit from fighting for yourself just a little bit more, and not taking so much shit just because you can.
In theory, it sounded great, but I wasn’t exactly sure how to start.
twelve
Thenextevening,I’mstanding in front of my bathroom mirror in a strappy black midi dress that I’d borrowed from Evie, and it doesn’t look terrible on me. I’m impressed, not just that it somehow fits, but also that I’d figured out how to lace up the back and had gotten it done on my own. She could have warned me about that, but of course, I could have tried the dresses on days ago like I said I would, too, but I was nervous. However, even though I’m wearing someone else’s clothes and what feels like someone else’s makeup, I’m surprised to find that I still feel very much like myself. This brings me a bit of comfort because I didn’t expect to. I expected to feel like an imposter, and then it’d be obvious that I didn’t belong. Now, I’m starting to believe that it could, somehow, all end up okay, and that maybe I’ve been blowing it up in my head for no reason.
Thinking that I still have a bit of time before Jake arrives, I’m surprised when I hear a knock on my door. He’s early, I assume, but when I open the door, it isn’t Jake I see. It’s Alex. I can feel the smile fall from my face and turn into something else entirely, and he sees it happen, too. His eyes get dark and sad and lost. I think maybe he’s been drinking already. I’ve never liked seeing him in pain and my instinct is to touch him, but I resist, stuffing it down and biting my lower lip—another anxious habit. My stomach is in knots.
“Wow, you look…pretty. You weren’t expectingme, I guess,” he says, and kind of laughs. He looks up at the ceiling and runs his hand through his hair.
“Thanks,” I say softly.
“That’s okay, I get it, but I knew you weren’t going to answer my texts either, and I was just wondering if you were still going to go with us next weekend for my birthday thing.”
Ugh, shit. “Alex, I don’t know. I don’t know if it would be a good idea for us right now.”
“Right, because your boyfriend won’t let you go.”
“No, that’s not why. Alex, listen, please.” I pause for a minute and attempt to gather my thoughts before I throw up too many of them, or not enough, and I don’t know if I’ll get a chance to take them back or do it over again. “This feels fucking terrible, and I hate it. I miss you. Deeply and profoundly to my very core, I miss you. You’re supposed to be my best friend. But I don’t know how to navigate that right now, not after the other night. Honestly, I’m starting to wonder if anything about our relationship was ever really okay, or if it was just…some kind of fucking toxic mess. I don’t even know if I can take anything you say seriously…” I trail off at the end, the last part coming out harsher, hitting harder than maybe I’d meant for it to. I can feel it. It hurts me, too.
“Wow, are you fucking kidding? You can’t take anything thatIdo seriously? You’re going to say that to me right now, after you’ve told me repeatedly,for years now,that I’m the only person that understands you? And now, what? Now we’re nothing? You want to throw it all away, while you surround yourself with trust fund babies and dress likethat? Is this even you talking, or is Evie feeding you this shit? I bet she loves your new boyfriend, doesn’t she?”
“See, why do you do that, Alex? Why even bring her up? This has nothing to do with Evie.”
“Well, it doesn’t feel like you, and neither does this,” he says, gesturing toward me. “Who are you supposed to be right now? Because you don’t sound like Ruby. And you sure as hell don’t fucking look like her.”
Before I respond, I see Jake standing in the hallway, maybe ten feet away. I don’t know how long he has been standing there or how much he has heard. Black suit, thin black tie. He looks perfect, as always, but I can’t quite process that right now. We lock eyes and I’m unable to say anything, but I can feel Alex staring at me, waiting for a response, unaware that he’s being watched.
“Is this guy bothering you?” Jake asks.
Alex scoffs and lowers his head, shaking it, before turning around. “This guy, huh? That’s fucking awesome.”
“No, he’s not,” I reply. “He was just leaving. Come in.” I say, leaving the door open behind me. Jake passes Alex on the way in, their shoulders brushing, and they exchange heated glares. This was not the way I had intended on beginning the evening.
“What was that all about?” he asks after closing the door.
“Um, nothing. We just…used to be friends, and now we aren’t, I guess,” I say.
“Right,” he says. “So that would be the neighbor that you had a falling out with?”
“Yeah,” I reply.
“And you guys werejustfriends?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I tell him again, my voice fainter than I mean for it to be, “just friends. Give me a minute, okay? I’ll be ready to go in a minute.” I retreat into the bathroom, do nothing other than take a few deep breaths and try to center myself, and emerge a few minutes later, as promised, feeling not much better.
“Ready,” I tell him.
“You sure?” he asks.
