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She lifts her eyebrows as she picks out a scone, and I go through the mechanical act of paying for the breakfast I don’t want before sitting down at a table by the window and taking out my phone.
I’m sipping coffee as I lift it to my face to unlock it, and I nearly drop the cup when I see something in my alerts.
There’s an email from Monty Freeman of Freeman & Daniels.
I’m certain it’s another rejection—I interviewed with his firm back in December. So many interviews ago that I’d barely remember what the guy looks like, much less what his firm does, if I hadn’t run into him a couple of weeks ago on Christmas Eve.
It wasn’t exactly a promising encounter.
I’d been walking with my best friend’s sister, Ruthie, and her little girl, Izzy, because we were all headed to the same Christmas party.
Ruthie and I do not get along. When she was a little kid—a toddler, for God’s sake—she used to pretend she was a dog so she’d have an excuse to bite me. She’s the kind of woman who excels in driving people crazy without even trying, and she seems to have a special interest in drivingmecrazy.
Don’t get me wrong, she’s still my best friend’s sister, so I feel a sort of…protectiveness for her. But life’s better if there’s distance between us.
Of course, Freeman loved her. He’d fallen all over his feet to talk to her, asking her dozens of questions about her latest vanity project—a bookmobile she set up in her old camper van. She’d even flashed him photos of it, becauseof courseshe did.
One of Ruthie’s favorite topics is how vain and self-involved I am, but I’ll be damned if she doesn’t like to turn the conversation to herself whenever possible.
And sure, it didn’t do much for my ego to get ignored in favor of a van called “Vanny.”
But maybe that encounter didn’t go as badly as I thought, because now there’s this email…
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I whisper to myself.
I feel someone staring, and look up to see a woman who’s wearing a furry onesie with a tail watching me likeI’mcrazy.
A low moment, to be sure.
I click into the email, everything in me concentrated on this moment, on this possibility. On this hope.
I feel beyond pathetic that I’m this desperate for a job at a general practice firm I hadn’t heard of a few months ago, but I need this. I need it bad. I’m sick of feeling that everything I’ve tried and done is a failure.
Mr. Royce,
Excuse me for my late reply. I’ve been away for an extended holiday vacation with my family. I must tell you what a pleasure it was to meet your wife and daughter on Christmas Eve. You have a beautiful family, and I might add that family is very important to us here at Freeman & Daniels. Some lawyers care more about the job than they do about their lives outside of it, but Daniels and I know what’s truly important. One of the benefits we offer is excellent insurance for our employees and for their families.
I would be honored if you’d come in for another interview at your earliest convenience.
Yours truly,
Monty Freeman
Well, shit.
I should definitely disabuse him of his belief that Ruthie and I are married and Izzy is mine. It’s the kind of thing he’d find out quickly enough if I actually took the job. I won’t have a family to put on his “excellent insurance” or to bring to company picnics or whatever. Besides, he may be the sort who likes to do a full background check on his employees, in which case he’d find out pretty quickly that I’m not married.
The truth is that I never intend to get married, to anyone.
I’ve seen some truly ugly divorce cases—people who pledged they’d love and honor their spouse, and just a few short months or years later want nothing less than complete destruction of that same person.
Then there’s my dad. He died when I was a teenager, and my mother’s never gotten over it. Never really attempted to get over it.
All four of my best friends seem to be bound and determined to race each other to the altar, but that hasn’t changed my mind. I think marriage is a bad bet. A losing proposition. A sure way for a person to take leave of their senses and hitch themselves to an anchor that’ll hold them back
I wouldn’t say I’m vain, the way Ruthie thinks, but Iamambitious. I feel driven to succeed. To do.
And yet…
I’m reaching the bottom of the Asheville barrel. It’s not a huge city, and there are only so many law firms. I’ve already started sending out feelers to Charlotte, and I have a couple of interviews there next week, but the thing is…
I don’t really want to leave.
This is my life, my home, and I don’t want to let Myles drive me out. I don’t want him to succeed.
Which is why I find myself crafting a delicate response to Freeman that neither confirms nor denies that I have a wife and child.
