Elaine’s lips form two straight lines before she twists them into a flashy smile. “Sure thing, Javier, let’s hurry. I’ve got my work cut out for me with Lauren’s team to figure out.”
For the second time I have to bite my cheek, except it’s not to make a silly joke, it’s to keep myself from saying something not so pleasant. This is going to be a long day.
My head is pounding an uneven rhythm, most likely from the multiple causes of it. One, I’m starving. Two, stress, which also includes number three, Elaine. It’s five after seven as I pull into my garage. My shoulders are heavy and there is a gnawing pain in the back of my neck. I hit the remote on my garage door to close it and climb out of my car. My legs are like overcooked spaghetti noodles. I wobble my way to the stairs. I never imagined being a manager would be this difficult. The idea of more power equals more work or decision-making was always something I understood or assumed, but dealing with Elaine today was beyond difficult. Every candidate I chose, she found something wrong with.
We finally agreed on five people, two from her pile, two from mine and one we both were iffy about but I suppose we were ready to call it a day. Prior to my Christmas holiday, Javier had not mentioned Elaine helping me. He had made it clear that it was my choice. So the lunch meeting really threw me for a loop. I’m not sure if Elaine coming along was his idea or one forced on him by her? Maybe he doesn’t think I can choose people on my own? Maybe he is regretting his decision in promoting me? My airway constricts; I let out a breath from my lips.
I inch my way up the stairs to my townhouse. It’s a three-story colonial-style home. I bought it several years ago and fortunately for me the previous owners did some pretty amazing renovations. Reaching the top of the stairs is like winning an award. There is a prize waiting inside for me, a liquid kind and I cannot wait to pop open the bottle of wine and unwind. Ha! I unlock my door and put my purse on the side table. I’m extremely safety-conscious so I immediately lock my door again.
The 2005 Shiraz is glaring at me from my wine rack. I bought this one a while ago. It’s been on my rack for at least a few years. Normally, I would wait to share a bottle like this with someone special, but today is my first day as a manager and this calls for a celebration. Besides, I’m supposed to be video chatting with Jack at any moment. I wish we were talking in person. My stomach is empty and a wrecking ball of nerves is swinging around inside. This long-distance thing is really a drag, especially after the day I’ve had. If only he were here when I got home tonight, waiting for me, so we could celebrate this moment together. The idea of talking to a computer screen makes my stomach churn.
I texted Jack from the bathroom at work to let him know I was still working on my team list with Elaine. I roll my eyes. I argued with myself about whether or not to text him in front of her, but then opted for the privacy of my bathroom stall. It was not my most prideful moment.
I pop the cork of the bottle and let the burgundy liquid fill up the glass. Well, not fill up…I like to keep my glass half full… It’s better for aerating and a much tastier sip. I lift the glass and take a long swig. My shoulders drop. Ah, definitely worth the wait. It’s woodsy. I sigh. Anything woodsy reminds me of Jack and his delicious scent. It’s sandalwood and apples and makes me want to take a long walk in the forest with no hope of ever leaving.
Which is what I signed up for when I said yes to his proposal. But now…now I’m lost. I’m spinning around in this forest of so many different paths and I’m not sure if Jack and I will ever meet up to join in our journey of life together. I know it’s only been a day. But…I miss him. After these last twelve hours, it would be so great to fall into his arms and take in his scent—forget about Elaine and her overstepping. I shake my head.
A vibrating sound is coming from my purse. I rush from the kitchen to the living room to retrieve my phone. The contact pops up at the top of the screen. It’s my mom. I roll my eyes. I’m sure she wants to talk wedding stuff.
“Hello?”
“Hi honey, how was your first day as a manager?”
“Good. Really good, but I only just got home.” I hesitate about telling her goodbye immediately.
“Oh dear, honey, it’s after seven. Is this going to be your new schedule?”
“Ah, I hope not.” I laugh.
“Well, anyways, I wanted to see if you’d had a chance to check out the Pinterest boards I made for you. I’d really like for us to settle on a theme so that I can focus on that.”
“Oh, yeah I’m sorry, Mom, I haven’t had a chance to check them out. I was really busy all day at work and like I said I just got home. I haven’t even eaten yet.” I pat my stomach as I head back to the kitchen.
“Oh honey, that’s not good. I’ll let you go then. Have a good night.”
“Thanks, Mom, I’ll check out the Pinterest thing as soon as I get a chance.”
“The sooner the better.” She laughs.
“Goodnight, Mom.”
I hit the end button and put my phone on the counter. Now, what to eat? I desperately want to talk to Jack, but I might pass out from hunger. The salad at lunch was hardly appetizing and definitely not filling. My stomach growls almost as if on cue. It’s wouldn’t be a good idea to chat with him on an empty stomach. Being hungry is not a good quality. Especially since every moment I speak with him I want to be pleasant and fun, not grumpy.
I open my refrigerator. As I suspected it’s empty. I got in late yesterday from my flight back from Texas, so I haven’t had an opportunity to buy groceries. The pantry only offers one solution. Popcorn. Might as well. I get out my pan and place it on my gas stove. I drizzle vegetable oil in the bottom of the pan to cover it in a nice thin layer and then cover the oil with the kernels. I blast the heat on high. I think I’ve got enough to time to change into my comfy clothes. I stride to my bedroom and take off my three-inch red heels. I place them on my shoe rack. With my first paycheck for this position I’m planning on buying celebratory shoes to mark my success. I haven’t figured out which ones yet, but the centrifugal force of Stuart Weitzman always pulls me in as I pass by the store at the mall.
My skirt drops to the floor and I toss it on my bed along with my white blouse. I dash to my maple dresser and pull open my comfy clothes drawer. Nothing like a pair of slimming black yoga pants and purple hoodie to make me all cozy inside. And sheesh, thank goodness I had a salad for lunch today. My skirt was not exactly providing a ton of breathable room. Maybe I did overindulge a bit over the holidays.
I made Jack a red velvet cake as part of his Christmas gift. It was the dessert his mother had always made before his parents died. We had it after Christmas dinner with my family and almost everyone was full from the dinner and begged for small slices. Jack took the rest of it home with him and the next day…we got a little creative with the leftovers, especially the cream cheese frosting. My mouth waters. I remember licking some of it off of Jack. Mmmm…I rush back to the kitchen.
With this new position if I do have these late hours, when would I find time to make it to the gym? And the stress. The stress of the job and planning a wedding? My cortisol levels are going to be shooting through the roof. I’ve got to figure out a plan. I might have to add squats or jogging in place into my routine. I squat down ten times in a row. Who am I kidding? I’m exhausted. Doing squats is the last thing I want to do right now.
The white kernels are popping open the lid. I grab my silver popcorn bowl from the bottom cupboard and pour the luscious fluffy snack into it. I swipe my salt off the counter and sprinkle the popcorn. I glance at the clock on my stove. It’s now almost eight o’clock.
I mosey into the living room and place the popcorn on my mahogany coffee table. Megan