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He frowns briefly, then shakes his head imperceptibly. "Yes. I would very much like you to come. To decorate the tree. Nick's getting takeout, and we're going to make popcorn decorations. And we'll have some to eat. Popcorn I mean. Not decorations. Though I guess we could eat those too since they’re made of popcorn too.” He scrunches up his face and slams his mouth shut.
"Oh," I breathe, wishing my life were different. That my situation was anything other than what it is. "Jonas, that sounds like so much fun. I wish I could." And I really like the sound of takeout. "But I have to be somewhere soon." His face falls, and a small part of me, a part I’m not proud of, lights up at that. Having anyone disappointed by my absence feels good. Having Jonas, a truly good man, disappointed, feels better. I'm used to people not caring if I'm around. I'm used to being invisible.
He clears his throat, the lump in his throat bobbing as he stares at me. "This is not going how I planned." His fingers tap the side of his leg. "I would...very much like you to come. Maybe you can cancel your plans."
Breaking his gaze, I gather up the bag, thankful I didn't have to explain the contents, and slide past Jonas into the hallway. "I'm sorry," I say, looking back at him. "I really can't." I hurry to my office, aware of his large presence shadowing me. I glance at my watch and speed up, my heart beating faster.
Despite my panic, a little thrill goes through me as I step through the doorway of my office. I have an office. How incredible is that? No one from high school would believe it. I didn't get a yearbook, but I'm pretty sure I was voted most likely to work in fast food.
I didn't have many friends in school. I was too busy trying to keep my head above water. But even then, working in fast food sounded like an honest way to make a living and not something I should be ashamed of, despite what the popular kids said.
A job, any job, meant I got to eat. I never starved, but there were way too many nights I ate saltines and peanut butter for supper. Dad always seemed to have enough money for the liquor store, but when it came time to buy groceries, suddenly, he had to pinch his pennies.
I grab my big purse and shove the bag in. I can't quite zip it shut, thanks to the mountain of granola bars Jonas gave me. They'll buy me a few extra days. Thank god.
"You're seeing him." The anger in Jonas's voice freezes me in place. I hug my bag to my chest as waves of emotion pour off of him, battering my back. "Why? Why would you go back to him?"
I close my eyes and let my chin drop, exhausted. He’s made his feelings about Keith very clear. He was right. I just didn’t see it in time.
"I'm not going back to Keith. I haven't seen him in a month." Not since he dropped me at work, kissed me goodbye, then vanished.
With everything I own and then some.
"Good," he grumbles. "I didn't like him. He was not a good choice for you, Janey. Not at all."
The anger I've been living with for a month and the frustration I can't escape, bubble up. I turn on him, glaring. I don't care if he's my boss. I don't care if he means well. I don’t care that he’s wonderfully sweet.
"I think that's pretty obvious now, Jonas. I would really like people to stop reminding me of that. I made a mistake. Do I really need to be punished for it for the rest of my life?"
Through a wash of tears, I see his face fall. I feel like I kicked a puppy. A kind, sweet, protective puppy. But the walls are closing in on me. I have to go. Now.
I spin and run for the elevator, slapping at the button. I refuse to look back at him. I am such an idiot. It isn't his fault. I know that. And I just yelled at probably the nicest man I've ever met. I'm a complete hag.
I chance a look back at him as I step onto the elevator. He stands, head bowed, in the middle of the office, and I can't help thinking I've hurt him deeply. I put my hand on the door, holding it open, torn. I desperately want to go to him. To tell him how sorry I am. But another glance at my watch convinces me to drop my hand.
I can't stay, no matter how much I want to.
His head comes up as the doors close, and for a second, our eyes lock. There's a determination in his gaze that I haven't seen from him before. Heat warms my cheeks and, for a second, just a second, makes my imagination run wild. What would it be like, to be with someone like him? Someone good and strong. Someone honest.
That heat carries me through the lobby and out into the biting cold of the night. It's only then that I realize I don't have my coat.
So stupid.
I turn to go back in but stop, heart fluttering. I'm cutting it late as it is. If I don't get there soon, I won't get a spot. And if I don't get a spot...I don't even want to imagine what will happen.
Thankful for the heavy sweater I wore today...the only one I have left, I break into a jog. I lock my eyes on the bus stop in the distance, and I don't stop until I'm inside the glass enclosure. The bus is there a minute later. I muster up a smile for the bus driver, a kinder older woman with steel gray hair. She looks like a sweet grandmother, but she runs this bus with an iron fist. Twice I've seen her chase off someone acting up.
She makes me feel safe. The office and this bus are my two safe places.
I get off at the same stop I have for the last two weeks and run the last block, clutching my purse to my chest. This isn't the nicest neighborhood. It's a lot like the one I grew up in, actually, and I remember how to keep myself safe.
Rule number one, purse straps can be cut.
The line is long, and dread settles into my chest. But I grab a spot at the back, grateful for the bodies in front of me that help to block the wind. Some of the faces around me are familiar. All women who look older than they are, all carrying the same dread in their eyes that I am.
I still can't believe I ended up here, in line at a homeless shelter, praying they'll have a corner for me to rest in tonight. I think I got too comfortable. My job at Brash was a godsend. I'd worked reception and done a few other odd jobs in office settings, but nowhere as big as Brash. I don't know how I found the guts to apply, and I really don't know why they offered it to me.
Working at the front desk was better than I ever dreamed. Going to work made me happy in a way that no other job did. I felt truly a part of something.
